Anticipation is the most anxiety producing thing I know of. It’s the stuff dreams are made of. The very catalyst of desire and ownership is built upon the fabric of those moments before thing come into fruition.
It should be classified as some energy force.
I sit here waiting patiently for my novel to be released. No, not even released but some figment of a release date and I ball my fingers in anticipation for the ready so I can play the part of the author that I’m so needing to play in order for the world to know my work is ready for their enjoyment.
I was told by my publisher soon.
I know it’s a long process and other author need their chance. I just need mine as well. Thank God we aren’t selling houses and cars and the fact that folks can buy more than one or two or three- which leaves the market wide open and less of a rat-race. Thank the literary Gods for that.
Thank God for blogging to keep me satisfied until the moments when the public has access to my storytelling work in that capacity.
Thank God also for the passage of time and the ability to acknowledge when that time has arrived.