One of the most difficult things about being a writer, at least for me, is the time between sending out a new manuscript and waiting for a response from an agent or a publisher. It’s always the same level of anxiety for me and the longer it takes to hear back, the more insecure I become. Of course, I worry that the manuscript that I thought was so polished and readable was actually riddled with errors and dead boring. Or maybe it’s really good, but it somehow didn’t make it to its destination. Instead it is lost somewhere in the cyber world. Of course I know this is not possible, as I did receive an email confirming it arrived safely, but none the less….
I know I could work on my next book. I know I should be working on that manuscript, but for some reason I just can’t. That’s not exactly true. I just won’t. Not for a little while at least. Not until I can’t stop myself. Not until my computer pulls at me like a magnet and begs that I tap out those first few words, the easy ones: “Chapter One”.
The good thing is that I’ve had enough experience to know that this will eventually happen. It’s close. The characters that have been dancing about in my imagination want me to show up at the page and give them a chance at a life of their own.
Everyday I resist the urge to call my agent. I don’t want to be a pest. She will call me. I just have to be patient.
But it’s so hard.
Maybe if I just forget all about it and begin that new book; the one that’s taking up so much space in my imagination. Okay, here goes.
Today I did only what I wanted to do: Slept late, read my book, read the paper, had a long bath, watched two movies – only edited first articles and finally unpacked both of my suite cases – from UK and Hawaii.
I went to the Canucks game on Thursday, which I loved and we won against Atlanta! I have finished my Christmas shopping and the house is decorated…wow – talk about organized 🙂
The only thing is, I haven’t written a word of my novel since returning to Canada. I suspect it is because the first draft (50 thousand words of it) are at this moment with an editor. We were supposed to get together for lunch last week, but she had to cancel and I haven’t heard from her for this coming week. Writers will know what this translates to: pure insecurity and fear. Here is what I think: She hates my ms and wants to burn it. In fact, she hates it so much she doesn’t want to call me and waste her time on such a pathetic loser of a writer. She hates it so much that she is tempted to use it as TP! I could, of course go on an on with this negative thinking, or I could distract myself with another movie and dinner out – hey that sounds like the better idea.
It is because of how I feel when I don’t hear from an editor, that I do my best to turn around first suite articles within 12 -24 hours. I figure a good writer has a great imagination and that can be bittersweet…
In the meantime, I just wish she’d call…
While I had high hopes of getting some fiction writing done while away in Suffolk visiting my aunt, I am finding I only have time for my editing work, not book writing. Of course, this is my choice. If I wanted to, I could spend all of my days at various (and fabulous) Internet cafes in Woodbridge, but then what would be the point of leaving Vancouver at all? After all, a cafe is a cafe no matter where you happen to be. With this in mind, I’ve put my writing aside, opting instead for experience.
It’s really good for me, as a writer, to sometimes put the creating aside and dive into life. These are the times when I listen and watch and imagine, and I know, for a fact, that by doing this, I become a better wordsmith. The trick is to put aside all guilt about not writing and live in the moment. It’s a luxury no doubt, but a life without luxury is not a life worth living 🙂
Think it’s time to pop into the pub for an ale…