I am not a patient person. I suck at waiting for anything. I am the original ADHD, instant gratification, I-want-it-now girl. Needless to say, I’m in the wrong business, since it seems like the getting-published side of writing is all about waiting. Ninety days is a lifetime to people like me. And when that 90 days stretches into five or six months, I become a walking basket case.
(That Tom Petty—he knows me. He speaks to me. When he wails, for twenty-nine nasally beats, “THE WAITING IS THE HARDEST PART,” it’s like he’s singing what’s hidden in my soul.)
I know part of this comes from my control-freak nature. Control freaks hate to wait—not because we are impatient, even though we can be—but because waiting for someone else to do something means that something is out of our control. My manuscript is out there in the cold, hard world and I’ve lost control over it. God only knows where it is or how long it will be until someone actually picks it up to read it. Control freaks can’t handle not being in charge.
I know; I need some serious therapy. Counselor Shelley is working with me on this, but I’m not making much progress. See, I want to be cured of my impatient, control freak problems NOW, not tomorrow. Not after six sessions. NOW. NOW. NOW.
Sheesh. And I wonder where Amazing Child gets it from…
So, I’m sitting here, waiting, slowing losing my mind while I drive the Playfriends, Shelley, and my CP insane with my incessant complaints of “Why is this taking so freaking long?!?”
Then I take a deep breath and remind myself that no news is good news. Each day I wait without hearing anything is one more day I haven’t been rejected. One more day where I can pretend the editor with my manuscript is dancing up and down the hallways with joy over what’s she’s just discovered. One more day I can dream that THIS manuscript is the one.
So that’s a good thing. Sorta. But it doesn’t make the waiting any easier. I blog, I write another email to Shelley, and I whine at DG for a while. Then I break out the Tom Petty CD and wail along at the top of my lungs…THE WAITING IS THE HARDEST PART.
How do you handle the waiting?