See, I’m not the most patient of people. I get antsy. I get nervous. My mind spins in a thousand different directions. I’m not very good at waiting at all.
Being an author has tested my waiting skills in a way if never really imagined. Oh, logically I knew it would be there and try me, but I never really fully grasped just exactly how it would make me feel.
But wait I shall because there’s nothing else I can do. Just keep waiting. Eventually, the wait will come to an end, for good or for ill, and I’ll deal with that when it happens. The weight is heavy on my shoulders, but I can carry it.
Until then I apply Schroedinger’s principle: right now the book is both accepted and rejected.