I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the act of waiting, probably because I’ve been doing a lot of it lately. I’m a writer and everything in the publishing universe moves at its own undetermined as of yetpace. At this point Im hoping the adage of good things come to those who wait rings true this New Year, more than ever.
When I was a kid waiting was excruciating, especially around the holidays. It seemed like the days leading up to Christmas would tick forward one decade at a time, until I thought I was going to explode before reaching the big day.
Now waiting is different and sometimes even insidious. You hunker down, accepting the inevitable, and pray whatever youre waiting for gets here before your stomach has turned into a seething ball of stress.
Where did the excitement go? The anticipation? Is it lost with age? To be honest, I dont really know. What I do know is I have a helluva lot more patience than I had as a kid. So I sit here and wait, while outside forces I have absolutely no control over decide my writing future.
