Have a little patience, croon Take That in my ear.
Sorry guys, but I have a deep seated tendency towards impatience.
This week I finished rewriting the last chapter of my novel, leaving only a couple of sections further back that I want to retouch before this draft is finished.
My wonderfully overactive, obsessive and annoying brain took this opportunity not to sit back, look at what I have done and think “Hey, well done. You’ve worked hard, you should be proud.” No, oh no. Not my brain.
My brain decided to say, “Hey, you, the smug looking git in the mirror. Think you’ve nearly finished? What about…SUBMISSIONS! Do it now, now, NOW!” That is what my brain is currently shouting at me to do, whilst the sane people in my life are telling to chill the crispy duck out and take it one step at a time, because there is so much left to do before this bad boy is ready to submit.
And, as a wise owl told me (Hi, Simon!) there is no rush.
“There is a rush there is a rush, submit submit submit!” Says my brain. Shut up brain.
Why do I feel the rush to submit? I dread it for starters, and there is definitely an element of wanting to get it over and done with. There is also the fact that it is very nearly ready, tantalisingly ready, so why not be prepared and start thinking about it now? (Because there is a big, a huge, a gargantuan difference between preparing for it and actually doing it.) And then there is the real pin in the cushion, that darling little viper just waiting to bite me in the arse…hope. Because maybe, just maybe, this time will be THE time, the time someone says the three letter word that would make my dream come true.
I have to be patient, I know that, and there is, for the moment, enough fear imbedded in hope’s cheeky bite to keep me far, far away from that send button.
I’ll hit play instead, and listen to Take That demand my patience once more. Or maybe twice more…