I’m playing the waiting game and I hate it. I haven’t heard back from any agents (it takes 6-8 weeks, my rational brain reminds me) and I can’t seem to drum up any enthusiasm to write. Which is the most frustrating and the most frightening.
I have so many unfinished ideas that don’t seem to find their way to paper. All these stories in my head branch out into dead ends, roads leading to fog that I have yet to explore. And yet, whenever I sit down at my computer, I find myself staring at the screen. Then, I get distracted. A new Tumblr post – better check my Twitter – I wonder what job updates there are on Monster? Hours later, I emerge from the haze and it’s time for bed/work/whatever. My word count remains the same.
As summer heats up, settles in, I hope that some spark of inspiration will find me, like a lightning bug caught in a jar, or heat lightning silent in the sky. I want to catch it, keep it, hoard it close to my chest until I’m the one lit up inside. And, the only way to release it is through my hands into words.
Until then, my fingers remain crossed.