Seems like I do a lot of waiting. Waiting for the college to call for an interview. Waiting for that boy to call. Waiting for school to get over so I can publish my thesis. Waiting for this depression to hit the road. Waiting to be discovered. Waiting for agents to get back. Waiting for the second draft to slip my mind so I can dive into the third with fresh eyes.
There’s a lot of waiting. What do I do with all this spare time?
First, I spent a few days playing Minecraft. Then, I dove into another project.
I’ve discovered, through this waiting process, that when it comes to finishing a novel, I’m all set. I can do it, and I have. I have no one to wait on besides myself. I have complete control over whether or not the novel gets worked on. If I don’t work on it for a few days, then I’m the only one to blame.
When I’m waiting on other people, I feel helpless. There’s nothing I can do to hurry up the candidate selection process or send a nudge to that boy to let him know I’m waiting on his response. It’s up to someone else, and I have no control over the outcome. Sure, I can revise my cover letter and tweak my resume, but I don’t have control over anyone else. I might be the perfect candidate until the next one walks in. I might be his dream date until he meets another girl who fits the bill even better.
I can write the most daring, thrilling, romantic, magical, and adventurous novel, but it’s no good if a better novel comes out right before mine, or right after.
Overshadowed. That’s how I’m feeling right now.
It’s not that I’m bad at what I do, but someone else is always better. Someone else commands English better, directs the plot better, and strings along the romantic mystery with more skill; someone else is always prettier than me, dressed nicer, skinnier, and more put-together. They say there’s someone for everyone, but I’m seriously starting to doubt that. They also say that when God closes a door, he opens a window, but I’ve yet to find that window.
P.S. It’s Harry Potter’s birthday.
Beatrice B. Morgan 