Last week, I posted about the agony that is waiting for publishing news and what constructive, positive uses the writer can make to that (glacially-slow, interminable, torturous) time. Today, I thought I'd take a few moments to examine the flip side, so here's my list of wasteful or destructive things NOT to do while waiting. Recognize yourself here, anyone? :)
1. Check out the gushing reviews, glowing fan-mania, and/or awe-inspiring sales stats of an author you secretly consider less deserving. Especially not one who's a friend.
2. Chew out your own liver (with or without liquid support) over the fabulous publisher support of a debut author.
3. Allow yourself to think in terms of fairness or karma, neither of which have any damn place in publishing.
4. Try to make deals with Fortune, the Muse, God, or the Devil. None of whom give a rat's patootie about your little endeavor.
5. Drive your family and/or significant other either crazy or away with your alternating bouts of delusional optimism ("When I'm as successful as J.K. Rowling, I plan to *buy* the Queen of England.") and abject despair. ("I might as well slit my wrists this minute, because New York's silence clearly means that everyone I've queried is busy getting together to read excerpts aloud and laugh behind my back!")
6. Reread the submission you just sent off and start picking it to pieces. Or worse yet, send out three or four versions with increasingly-hysterical notes. ("Trash the last one! It really sucked! THIS is the one you want-no, this one!")
7. Loudly declare that this time is the last time, that you're through with all this publishing hoo-ha if this project doesn't sell. Because we all know you're a junkie, addicted to the chase.
8. Sit wild-eyed and drooling by the phone, computer, or your mailbox (in case you're dealing with some Luddite who's not down with technology) making scary, snarling noises if anyone else in the family dares approach.
9. Delete *any* document files from your hard drive.
10. Allow yourself to think, even for a single second, that any one publishing professional's tossed-off opinion is more important than the joy you find and the friends you meet in this excruciating, exhilarating pursuit that has gripped you like no other.
While we're having fun with this (or at least *I* am, what else would you add to the list?
By the way, thanks to Edward Munsch for the inspiration -- in case any of you were thinking this was a view from my webcam.
1. Check out the gushing reviews, glowing fan-mania, and/or awe-inspiring sales stats of an author you secretly consider less deserving. Especially not one who's a friend.
2. Chew out your own liver (with or without liquid support) over the fabulous publisher support of a debut author.
3. Allow yourself to think in terms of fairness or karma, neither of which have any damn place in publishing.
4. Try to make deals with Fortune, the Muse, God, or the Devil. None of whom give a rat's patootie about your little endeavor.
5. Drive your family and/or significant other either crazy or away with your alternating bouts of delusional optimism ("When I'm as successful as J.K. Rowling, I plan to *buy* the Queen of England.") and abject despair. ("I might as well slit my wrists this minute, because New York's silence clearly means that everyone I've queried is busy getting together to read excerpts aloud and laugh behind my back!")
6. Reread the submission you just sent off and start picking it to pieces. Or worse yet, send out three or four versions with increasingly-hysterical notes. ("Trash the last one! It really sucked! THIS is the one you want-no, this one!")
7. Loudly declare that this time is the last time, that you're through with all this publishing hoo-ha if this project doesn't sell. Because we all know you're a junkie, addicted to the chase.
8. Sit wild-eyed and drooling by the phone, computer, or your mailbox (in case you're dealing with some Luddite who's not down with technology) making scary, snarling noises if anyone else in the family dares approach.
9. Delete *any* document files from your hard drive.
10. Allow yourself to think, even for a single second, that any one publishing professional's tossed-off opinion is more important than the joy you find and the friends you meet in this excruciating, exhilarating pursuit that has gripped you like no other.
While we're having fun with this (or at least *I* am, what else would you add to the list?
By the way, thanks to Edward Munsch for the inspiration -- in case any of you were thinking this was a view from my webcam.
Comments
And Angelica, I think we can all relate. There's no delusion fantasy/paranoia like a writer's!
Gad, we can be a dramatic bunch, can't we? :-) Fun post, Colleen.
I think the best antidote to the waiting is to check in with ourselves and reevaluate our priorities. I also think it's probably NOT a good idea to follow the tweets of a particular agent or editor while you're waiting. I've been following several potential agents over the past few years, to get a feel for who I might (and might not) be able to work with, but once that puppy is sent off, I'm going to have to tie my hands behind my back not to read those tweets!
Now, if I could only tell all this to my subconscious . . .
Lose hope.
Start comparing what you make to the average person asking if you'd like fries with that burger.
Great post!
CC
My total favorite is #10. I've always heard that writing is such a solitary thing- I have NEVER found that to be true. The best people I've met, like you, are in my writing circles and they are ALWAYS there for me.
Raven
I'd like to add--listen to tales of horror of other writers' experiences. Why borrow trouble? My journey may be easier. It may be harder. The only thing I know for sure is it will be different.
@Raven- Laughing at our paranoia helps. Glad to hear you're moving forward.
@Lark- What a wise realization you've made. You're absolutely right that every writer's journey's different. And some writers' war stories serve only to terrorize others. It's like when you're pregnant and people feel the need to regale you with stories of miscarriages, deliveries-gone-horribly-wrong, and their second cousin, Martha, who gave birth to a cat-faced troll with the feet of a pigeon. :) Why? Why? Whyyyyy?