I’ve been thinking lately about the suspended state I’m in. I’m waiting for my agent to find a publisher for my young adult novel. I’m waiting to be accepted into a creative writing MFA. I’m anxious and checking my email and Googling my name in case some sort of result is being published online before I’m actually told about it and re-checking my email and stalking my online grad application status. None of which is making anything happen any faster.
At the same time, I’m thinking I should probably enjoy this state. I have no demands right now, other than self-imposed ones. When I wake early to write, I can pick my activity: update social media, create a new blog post, continue character sketches for my next novel, thrust a finger at my alarm and sleep an extra hour if so desired.
Once I get answers, life won’t be so simple:
Scenario 1: My agent does not find a publisher. My free-to-be-me state continues, but with an overhanging (though temporary) sense of doom and gloom and worthlessness, and a renewed drive to do even better next time.
Scenario 2: My agent finds a publisher. It’s exciting and amazing but exhausting: edits, deadlines, publicity, readings, reviews—generally a million new ways to be kept on my toes.
Scenario 3: I do not get accepted for the MFA. My free-to-be-me state continues; repeat the doom and gloom and worthlessness.
Scenario 4: I get accepted for the MFA. Yay me! But now to do the work and find the time and pay the tuition.
Of course, I desperately want scenarios 2 and 4. I don’t care about the effort they’ll entail. They’ll be more than worth it.
But what will happen will happen. Maybe for now I should enjoy this gentle, undemanding float, knowing my ship will be hitting stormy seas—for good or bad—soon enough.