When I was a kid, waiting for Santa seemed an interminable space where day-to-day life was put on hold. “I can’t wait! I can’t wait!” became my daily (internal) mantra.
I’m not waiting for Santa this year but I’ve put myself in a similar tizzy waiting in other ways.
- One agent who has my full manuscript tweeted that she is going to read all submissions and reply to authors by the end of the year.
- Three other agents have had my manuscript for weeks/months and I’m still awaiting word on those.
- By the end of December, I’ll be notified whether I was accepted for a prestigious writing residency at Hedgebrook on Whidbey Island in 2011.
Living more in the present has been a lifelong struggle. When I put this much effort into waiting, I become a permanent resident of limbo. It’s not a good way to live. My stomach twists, I stress-eat, I obsess about things completely out of my control.
And if/when I don’t get what I’m waiting for, I’ll feel letdown – both because I didn’t get that agent/residency/big break, but also because I can’t get back these days that I’ve wasted not living presently, joyfully and gratefully.
Sounds like I’ve begun my New Year’s resolution list early.
Any resolutions emerging for you yet?
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