I'm waiting for my book, "Blossom for Me", to be released. I love that one of my books is finally moving out, its cardboard suitcase all packed, to find its way in the world. It's a watershed moment for me- a tide change. Maybe even a change of luck. I'm thrilled and excited and filled with anticipation. And I'm scared. My inner critic, Zelda, is playing devil's advocate: what if it gets terrible reviews?? What if nobody wants to read it?? The disaster! The horror!
I tell Zelda to shut up already. I mean, chances are good that it will neither do as well or as badly as I think. It will be a nice book, well received and with a little extra luck, a few people will read it. I tell myself that Zelda is wrong more often than not. She had me biting my nails over first round edits. I've finished them now- and they were fine. The occasional embarrassing slip-up was found by my editor and this is a good thing. This is a fabulous thing because I want the book to read well. Going over the edits was time consuming, but it was hardly earth shattering. Zelda had been quite sure I'd have to start from scratch and re-write the whole thing. But I didn't. Now I wait for my editor to get back with the second round and Zelda's at it again. Though really, I'm sure those edits will be just fine as well.
Wisdom among writers is that the best way to get past waiting is work on something else. So that's what I'm doing. I have three works in progress at the moment. Zelda thinks this is insanity and she may have a point. Three novels in progress and six 'finished' manuscripts that may or may not see the outside world; along with several hundred poems and an assortment of short stories and a collection of plot bunnies under the bed may well be the clinical definition of totally nuts. I've been prolific and disciplined at writing. I have been horrid and lackadaisical at trying to find placement. Zelda is sure this is abnormal. I am, she says, like the woman with twenty cats who simply can't resist getting yet another kitten.
Fine, but at least I have something to work on. And , Zelda aside, I still believe that if I work long enough and hard enough, I will someday have something spectacular, something amazing. Or at the very least something else that's publishable. So I keep on working. I'm currently re-writing a book called "Without Wings" for the umpteenth time. It took me two long years to work through the draft. Now I'm trying to make it better. Zelda thinks it is an awful mess and, with three points of view, totally and wholly and without a doubt unpublishable. But I keep plugging away. Because maybe this is the book. The one I'm meant to write. This may be the amazing spectacular wow! I've been working for. Or not. Who can predict these things?
At least it gives me something to do while I'm waiting for Blossom to be published. And who knows, maybe that is the book. The one I was meant to write.