I don’t like waiting. When I go to a doctor’s office, if I have to wait, I often end up pacing around the room. Or, I’ll get out the phone and Tweet or hit Facebook.
Waiting for news on a manuscript is a killer. I can’t pace around the office for 50 to 90 days. I do use Doutrope to track submissions and see where things are. So this means I log into it every morning and see the days out go up by one day, and the estimated days to response go down by one day. It is about as much fun and productive as watching grass grow.
In the meantime, I’m editing and rewriting the first novel. I’m still hoping for some feedback from my “beta” readers. I’m getting some rides in on the motorcycle and time with the grandkids.
But every time I have some quiet time, my mind goes to the project out there. Who’s reading it? What do they think of it? Do they like it? Did I make a hash of it? Self doubt creeps in. I start beating myself up for thinking I could write well enough to submit a story. Why am I even trying?
And, then, I think of the t-shirt my half-sister’s husband wears.
Dang! I think I’ll go for a ride.