After having had a project to work on for the last year, I have found myself somewhat at loose ends these days. Especially towards the end of my book, I was writing in a frenzy of excitement. My beta readers now have my story in their capable hands, and I have to wait for some feedback.
One does not simply hand a novel to a person and expect a two to three day turnaround time. People have lives, and even with the best of intentions, if a person is going to give your novel actual thought and reasonable feedback, they aren’t getting back to you in a week. Of course, that makes this a really hard stage of the game. I hate waiting, I’m bad at it, and this is definitely teaching me patience.
The reason I think I’m at loose ends is because my main project is finished for now, and so I’m not coming home and writing up a storm.
There are benefits to not writing like crazy. First, I get to spend more time with Luke and Toby. Family time is important, and they are patient with me while I’m writing. They deserve the extra time as much as I do. I’ve been able to experiment more with my other interests. I’ve been trying new recipes. I’ve been visiting with girlfriends. I’ve been reading all those articles I always thought I’d get to.
You would think this luxury of time would be met with unbridled enthusiasm. This is where you would be wrong. I am driving myself into a froth for want of things to do. I am thinking about new projects already, trying to find one that is small enough to work on while waiting on my next round of Bento.
My only consolation is that lots of my friends are this way, they just happen to be that way about cooking, or knitting, or volunteering, or video games. Everyone has their passion.
It’s just another part of the process. Or so I tell myself.