I have been on a bit of a querying frenzy with HOUSE OF BONES for the past few weeks. And it has paid off... somewhat. My beloved novel-in-verse is currently in the hands of two brilliant agents who were wise enough to request the full manuscript (that's four requests for the full so far). In addition, I'm waiting on a couple of other agents who have yet to respond. I won't mention the one who sent me a form rejection yesterday...oh, too late. But, who cares? One less that I have to wait for, I say!
I don't mind waiting. Honestly. But sometimes I can get preoccupied with the waiting, obsessed with checking email, frantic with the "what ifs" that race around in my brain.
So I have to do something. But what?
I could write. But my latest project is slow going, only revealing itself to me a few lines at a time, which reminds me of how long the publishing process can take, which reminds me that I'm waiting to hear back from agents, which leads to checking email and chasing away the "what ifs."
I could doodle. But doodling makes my mind wander, and a wandering mind leads to ideas, and new ideas lead to thinking about old ideas that led to finished projects, which reminds me that I'm still waiting to hear back from some agents.
I could revisit an old manuscript. But revising makes me wonder how much revising an editor or agent will want me to do on HOUSE OF BONES, which reminds me that I'm still waiting.
I could play Scrabble or Words with Friends. But word games always make me think of writing, and thinking of writing reminds me of waiting.
I could read. But reading a great book reminds me that I hope to be published some day, which reminds me that I really want to land an agent, which reminds me that I haven't heard back from a few agents yet.
I could scrub the bathrooms. But scrubbing grime makes me think of cutting the junk out of a manuscript, which reminds me of all the stuff I cut and tweaked in HOUSE OF BONES to make it as polished as it could be, which makes me think of how marketable it is, which makes me think of how I just need to find the right editor, which reminds me of how much I need an agent.
You get the picture. I'm obsessed. There is only one cure for this obsession, I'm afraid.
I need an agent.