In Which I Am Really Bad at Waiting

Eleven days ago I sent my revised manuscript of HARBOR LIGHTKEEP AND THE BROKEN WORLD to the agent who asked me to revise and resubmit it. The same day I sent fresh queries to three other agents. Every time I check my email now I brace myself for bad news, smaller bad news like one of the new agents sending a form rejection or bigger bad news like the agent who wanted the R&R still not loving my book enough to offer rep. Either is a distinct possibility. I also brace myself for good news, like a full request from one of the new agents or an email asking for a call from the agent who got the revised full manuscript.

The agent who asked for the R&R seemed eager to read my book, so I had a vain hope that I'd know one way or the other within a few days, but nearly two weeks later I'm still waiting. To be clear, I'm not upset at this agent. She has clients she's working with on edits and sending on submission to editors. She's reading queries from other writers and reading full manuscripts she's requested. She's also a writer herself and needs to devote time to her own work. She doesn't owe me a fast response. That didn't stop me from hoping she would give me one anyway.

So now I wait, which is one of the things I'm worst at. I told myself, as well as telling my CPs and whoever sees my tweets, that once I turned in the R&R I was going to get back to work on the adult contemporary romance I started this spring and put on the back burner when I got the R&R request. Reader, I lied. Well, I didn't exactly lie. That's what I intended to do and what I still intend to do. But it hasn't actually happened yet. I've opened the document and read through what I've written so far, yes, but I have not added any more words to said document. 

Part of this is that my ADHD brain struggles to complete tasks I'm not excited about. Part of it is that I've never written anything for adults before and it's proving to be harder than I thought it would be.

Mind you, I haven't been staring at the wall or bingeing Netflix while not writing. I've been trying to conquer my large to be read pile instead. I've read some great books, and that's a valuable thing for any writer to do, but if I want to keep being a writer I really do need to actually get back to writing at some point.

I'm almost done with my TBR pile from the library (let's just forget about the 20+ books on my shelves that I haven't read yet for the moment, shall we?) so maybe this will be the week I figure out how to convince my brain that going back to work on the romance is exciting. We'll see.

I don't have a good picture to represent me not writing and holding my breath every time I check my email, so here's a beautiful photo of my cat, Daniel Tiger, instead. He's a reader, as you can see.

In Which I Need to Eat My Words - Which Might Come in Handy Because I Can't Seem to Make Dinner and Write a Book at the Same Time

 Remember earlier this month when  I wrote  that I had stopped setting definite goals by which I absolutely must be agented or published. I was going to take the rest of the month off to read, and I had accepted the fact that I was not going to have a manuscript ready for PitMad in December and that that was okay.

Well, that lasted less than a week. I suddenly got an inspiration for my Nutcracker inspired contemporary fantasy. I knew approximately what would happen and I knew that one of the things driving the MC's desire to succeed in his quest was his desire to prove to himself that he could thrive despite his recent diagnosis of type 1 diabetes. It seems I have a penchant for creating main characters with some type of struggle. As the mother of a type 1 diabetic I am particularly appalled both by the lack of characters in children's books with T1D and by the fact that, on the rare occasion they occur, the condition is often portrayed inaccurately.

From that point on I wrote furiously. New characters appeared that I hadn't even imagined before I started writing, let alone fleshed out (when I'm brainstorming a new book my first step is always to write a background for all of the important characters). It turned out there was another important mouse, a best friend I didn't know existed, and a set of cousins from Germany.

It all went amazingly well. The book is out to beta readers as of yesterday, and, while it's not guaranteed, it's quite possible I will have a new book ready to pitch in December after all. All that contemporary and urban fantasy I was going to read? Yeah, it's still on my to be read pile, otherwise known as the end table beside the big, comfy chair I usually write in.

I'm pretty proud of myself for getting an idea and sticking with it even though it went against my original plan. You know what I'm not proud of, though? The fact that I am apparently incapable of cooking dinner while writing a book. Actually, I need to rewrite that sentence. It is really difficult for me to simultaneously work on a book I'm excited about, supervise remote learning for three kids (only two are mine, but my 4th grader has a podmate who comes to our house), and remember to do the things I need to do to cook dinner.

Monday was the prime example. Plan A for dinner was a pot roast in the crockpot. Well, as soon as I got back from my morning walk I fired up my computer so I could get to work. Between 8:30 and noon I only actually got about an hour of work time, due to a combination of interruptions from kids and my own ridiculous compulsion to check social media instead of actually accomplishing something. When I went into the kitchen to make lunch for the kids I saw the Crockpot on the counter. That had nothing in it. 

I then initiated plan B. I would put a lasagna together after lunch and stick it in the fridge. At 4pm all I had to do was heat up the oven and stick the lasagna in and it would be ready in an hour. At 4pm I dutifully went into the kitchen and turned on the oven. A little after 5 I was helping my high schooler with an assignment and went to check on the lasagna. The oven was working away - heating absolutely nothing. The lasagna, dear readers, was still in the fridge.

There was no time to both cook it and eat it before three of us had to leave for a Cub Scout meeting at 6pm. I stuck it in the oven anyway. My teenager, who was not going to the meeting, go to eat it when it was fresh. My 9 year old, who doesn't like lasagna, ate spaghetti before we had to leave, which she was going to do anyway. My poor husband and I had to wait until after the meeting and eat warmed up lasagna. 

I've been spending some time in the evenings narrating what I wrote that day to my 9 year old. Since I was done, yesterday she asked me about my ideas for my next book. My husband commented, "I'm glad that you're writing and excited about it, but could you figure out how to also make dinner when you're excited about a book?"

I will try mightily. I promise. However, I cannot guarantee that my family will not be eating cereal for dinner at some point.