So I was piddling around with the cows this weekend, and sometime late Sunday night, wore out from cow pies and giggles, I came across an email. An email that had somehow burrowed into an inbox black hole. And though I occasionally discover “lost” emails, they are most often junk emails.
This was not a junk email.
It was an editor email. An editor asking, mostly nicely, whether I was going to ever get to work on the next project. And I thought (after I freaked out about it having arrived in the black hole three weeks ago) that it hadn’t really been that long. I mean, geez, it was just…let’s see…three months ago since I finished the other project and said I’d get back to her soon.
Um…three months? Three. Whole. Months. OHMYWORD! ITHADBEENTHREEMONTHS!
So, yeah. Then I really freaked out. ‘Cause basically, I work all day, most every day, writing. What had I been doing?
I suppose I could make a pie chart and figure it all out, but I think that might be a wee bit depressing, to see how I’ve actually been wasting time.
And anyway, I have been working. Of course I’ve been working. I just don’t have anything tangible…say, like an improved bank account…to show for it. That’s the unfortunate side of working on picture book manuscripts or middle grade manuscripts or any manuscript, for that matter. You work and work and write and write–and all the while, you’re operating on all sorts of intangibles.
Like faith in yourself and your work, trusting that your craft’s improving, hoping that this time, you’ve captured on paper the story that’s in your heart.
You can’t put faith, hope, and trust in a bank. But I still believe that someday, that work will pay off.
In the meantime, I’ve responded to that email and thanked that editor for her extreme patience. And though she hasn’t given me a deadline, I kinda think I need to finish this project tout de suite. So there’ll be no more watching comedians or listening to Julie Andrews or messing with cows.