My eyes were drawn towards the literary agent sitting in the audience back row. Although I'd heard much, I'd never previously laid eyes on her. People spoke her name in hushed tones: single-handedly, she turned ordinary writers into mega-rich superstars.
Her agency had rejected my first book.
Now was my chance, though. My act could sell Dostoyevsky to five-year-olds. I'd grab her attention and she'd approach me afterwards, smiling.
But... as the fourth writer ended her talk, the agent silently rose and slipped away.