People have told me over and over again how patient I am. As I get older, my patience isn't as it use to be. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe because as I get older, the future doesn't stretch out as far as it did when I was younger. (Note that I said younger, not young. HA!)
But for now, my patience is wearing thin when it comes to hearing back from agents and editors. It's a sad thing to say, but some days I wish to see a rejection letter in my mail box near the street or in my MS Office Outlook folder. Even a rejection is considered movement. Though backwards.
Yeah. That's sad.
P.S. If you're wondering, yes, I'm writing the next story but whether or not I get The Call determines what 'next story' I really should invest my time in writing. So I'm kind of dragging my feet...uh...fingers.
I'm incredibly impatient these days - and everything annoys me. Think I'm just turning into a grumpy old woman.
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There's just so many things to gripe about. I understand totally. So I struggle with it too. My tongue has a permanent scar on it.
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