|My agent said there'll be days like this... there'll be days like this my agent said.|
I'm trying not to break a writer's rule of thumb.
Patience. It's part of the job description.
I know it hasn't been two months yet since my agent began sending my debut thriller on its maiden voyage to editors. I realize much like getting an agent, only one editor has to say "yes" to further my dreams. So I try to put it behind me at the end of each day as I rest my head on the pillow.
At least no one got hurt today.
However, it's getting harder to suppress sort of a Jekyll and Hyde persona. I'm beginning to feel a little bit like Hank Moody, the main character on Showtime's Californication. I can see myself spiraling out of control somewhat in a fit of literary confusion. 'Damn right I poured my heart out in that manuscript. Researched the hell out of it. Bartender, yes, I'll have another.'
I've almost run out of mild-mannered retorts when my friends say "I can't wait to read your book. When is it coming out?" I still smile when I answer, "I have to get a book deal first." What follows is a sympathetic look akin to patting me on the head.
Thankfully, I have family and now March Madness to keep me sane. Of course I would care less about my brackets (not true) if my agent were to call me with some "Are you sitting down?" news.
Until then, here's to Hank Moody for keeping me in line. I can see where going off the deep end will get you. Better to just vicariously live through the train wreck.
Besides, have to keep telling myself 'Be patient. Your time will come.'