Sometimes the act of working towards a resolution is more satisfying than the outcome itself.
Eleven weeks ago, I submitted a novel for a second round of consideration to an agent that seemed a good fit. Between their reputation and catalog, it hinted a possible match with my own quirks and writing style. Based on their input, I spent part of four months–in stretches on weekends and evenings–revising the manuscript, documenting the changes in a nifty table. I found the tedium of this process pretty difficult at times. When something is so close to being there, sometimes the realization that there’s another step left, is more daunting than the effort required to actually take it.
Yet for all the challenges, there was sweetness. A great proofreader stripped every line to its core, and reassembled the pieces. I learned very obscure–yet handy–points of grammar and diction. When the manuscript survived two reviews by someone who had copy edited one of my favorite books in print, it was a very reaffirming experience. Net effect: because of the collaboration, the project came through the other side tighter and more polished.
And so, with the edits done and the email sent, the wait began. Vacation and a change of scenery made the time pass at the beginning quite easily. The freshness of a new year was a good distraction for much of January and kept my focus on other issues. My birthday helped, especially all the nice notes and phone calls from friends and family.
But largely the weeks advanced, each one barely indistinguishable from the last. As the the three month mark loomed, I had a tremendous amount of trouble sleeping–a problem that grew more acute this week, when I barely slept at all. In my insomnia, I watched Taxi Driver twice. It took being absolutely miserable before I realized what I needed to do. The only thing I could.
I sent a note. In addition to thanking them for their input, I indicated I would start querying other agents next week.
The agent might respond. All I know is I have my bearings again.
