When I started writing, I never imagined there would be so many instances when I’d have to wait. And wait some more. For someone who is not renowned for her patience, it’s not easy.
First, there’s real life. It takes priority of course, whether through your work, family, or that pile of washing-up now reaching unknown heights (and eating out of plastic plates is apparently reserved to sloppy students. As a full time Mum, I’m supposed to keep my house in perfect condition, while cooking dinners fit for the Queen, and raising well-behaved kids…HA!). When I finally manage to get some free time to write, it’s never long enough, or I get interrupted, and I have to wait again for my next spare five minutes.
Then come the beta readers, wonderful people who agree to read your blood, sweat and tears, in order to point out the good and the bad before you present your work to the masses. They also have a personal life (yep), so waiting for their verdict varies from a few days to a few weeks. I prefer it when I get updates from them. But sometimes, their reply doesn’t even come at all and I’m thrown into a paranoid nightmare, from “they hated it but are too polite to tell”, “they got bored and stopped” to “they uploaded my story on a free site.”
Then there are the professionals you might use: agent, editor, cover design artist, proof-reader, formatter…their number is as endless as the accumulated waiting time they put you under.
I haven’t reached that stage yet, but next will be the reviewers. Like the beta readers, they not only have real life to contend with, they also have a list as long as my arm of books given by authors desperate to hear their make-it or break-it thoughts. So of course they play their part in the waiting game.
And what about the buyers? Those elusive, enigmatic people whose behaviour no one can really foresee? I’m expecting them to make me wait the longest…if they show up at all.
Writing. Waiting. Is it a coincidence only one letter separate those words?