Hurry Up and Wait

The excitement. The euphoria.

For months I planned, plotted, and prayed. Hands shaking, I packaged my proposal and dropped it in the mail—scant hours to spare before the deadline for submitting arrived. Breathless, I sat back to wait.

Finally, it came. The request for a full manuscript. Heart pounding, I polished and shined my story, then packaged my novel and dropped it in the mail—scant hours to spare before the deadline arrived. Breathless, I sat back to wait.

Months passed. I sought God for an answer. When it came, I wasn’t prepared.

The rejection.

Weeks of waiting and hoping, begging and praying. All for naught, or so it seemed. I cried—despaired of ever seeing my dream realized. But somehow, after a few days, I managed to start writing and the process of submitting and waiting, hurrying and delaying, started all over again.

Somehow, I thought it would be different after the contract. Somehow, I thought that slip of paper would change the process, shorten it perhaps, so that the waiting wasn’t so excruciating.

Not so.

Being contracted only adds to the things being waited for. Now that the book has been submitted to my editor, I wait with anticipation to hear what changes will be required. I look forward to the day that I’m presented with galleys. I long for the day when I peruse cover art and graphic designs. I can hardly wait until I hold my book in my hands.

All of this makes me think that perhaps it’s a lesson in patience that God is trying to teach me. Perhaps the waiting isn’t so terrible, since it’s in those times that I am still, and God’s voice is most clear.

So what has my lesson in patience taught me? I’ve learned the day I wrote, “The End. . .” that was really the beginning.

Next week: The Conference