Patience may be a virtue, but it ain’t one of mine. I finished the first draft of my third novel and I’m giving it some breathing room before I have another look at it, see how much work it needs, and start on the second draft. But I’m itching to start now.
See, I know the road to publication is long and bumpy, with lots of switchbacks, and I figure, the sooner I start on it, the better. I’ve just self-published my second novel under a pseudonym. I finished the first draft of that, oh, 3 years ago. It took three years of polishing and researching and querying agents for me to realize that if I wanted to see it in print before I had grandchildren, I had to take matters into my own hands. Now I have a book on the Amazon Kindle Store. Yay, me! Unfortunately, only one person has bought it. ONE.
Because, what I have learned, am still learning is that publishing is only the beginning. Nobody knows it’s out there, well, except for that one friend and I have sworn her to secrecy. (long story short, I live in a conservative country, work in a conservative field and don’t want that very unconservative novel linked to my real name) Now I’ve got to start down yet another long and bumpy road, the thrilling Marketing Highway, a virtual stretch of tarmac with no end in sight.
So you can see why I might be a little impatient to get things moving with my third novel.
But I’m waiting. Why?
Because I know that every good novel needs that breathing space between drafts, time for the writer to regroup, rethink, and gather the necessary distance to look at it with fresh, and hopefully objective, eyes. I don’t want to have any regrets when I finally send that novel out into the world, whether to solicit an agent and traditional publisher or indie-style on Amazon.
So I remain, writer in waiting.