If I had a crystal ball to look back at all the times in my life I had to wait for things, I would probably be astonished at how many hours I have spent in a holding pattern. In those moments of uncertainty, time takes on a mystical quality and one day feels like a week, a week feels like a year and anything longer than that feels like an eternity.
Trying to connect with, and build a relationship with, a literary agent has taken waiting to a whole new level. I have crafted something I am extremely proud of and want so much to find someone as passionate about sharing my story as I am. But that takes time – a lot of time. Agents are very busy people and I understand that. My manuscript is one in a pile of hundreds that they have to sort through to find a collection of phrases and characters that speak to them and that they think they can sell to a publishing company. I get it. But that doesn’t make the waiting any easier.
I recently submitted my full manuscript to a literary agent in New York. Her email, although encouraging, did say it would be a few weeks before I heard back from her. That email was sent 9 days ago but, in my estimation, it feels like 9 months have gone by since we had any communication. In that 9 days, my emotion has gone from elation to worry, from feeling confident to being self-deprecating. It has been a roller coaster of emotion but it is a train I have been hanging on to because that ride up and down those tracks and through those loops is part of the thrill of the journey to being published. I can only hope that the ride ends well and I don’t veer off the tracks into a wall.