I printed out a copy of my manuscript and marked it up while reading it aloud. This morning I moved most of those changes to the computer. I'll finish up tonight or tomorrow, and then there's another change I'm thinking about making.
And then I start looking for someone who can sell it to a publisher for me. I am both eager and reluctant to begin this process.
Someone should invent a machine for it. Writers could slide their pretty manuscripts into a slot, and in three seconds the machine would spit it back out along with a slip of paper like an ATM receipt. It would have the name of the very best agent for you or it would say, "Sorry, please try again."
No waiting. No wondering. No shadowy doubts lurking backstage.
But that's impossible, soforgetIevenmentionedit. I love waiting!
It's the wondering I don't like.