I’m not a patient person. Anyone who knows me can see this coming from a mile away. When I get something in my head, it gets done because why wait? The only exception to this rule is when I don’t want to do something. The boring, the uncomfortable, or the dreaded are things shelved in the to do pile for another day.
Right now, I’m suffering through the sickness of having a re-write of my book done and out to three people for critique. Feedback is a mixed bag (noted in a previous blog.) Of course I want them to like it, but I want honesty too so I can correct any issues in the story. But it’s the waiting… It’s that sickening fear they have put it to the back burner because there are a million other important things to do ahead this. Yes, they offered with excitement, which only makes it worse. In my insecure mind, they get to page 2, realize it’s shit, and it falls to the lowest priority. Worse yet, they stop all together, too chicken to tell me they hate it, and it’s a topic we never speak of again.
Paranoid? Of course I am…this work has been my life for the last year and a half. I’m to the point it’s about to get shelved, which is a terrible pain breaking my heart. I’ll do it because I have to be realistic too and hope future works do better.
Where does this bring me? It’s 6:08am on a Sunday morning and I’ve been up for a good hour worrying. Instead of sleeping in, enjoying a day off from the work week grind, my stomach churns with anxiety. And I wait. I check my e-mail every ten minutes (it seems.) And I wait. I try to fill in the down time with useless You Tube videos. And I wait. I tell myself they need more time. And I wait…