Being a writer is full of hurry up-and-wait. You hurry-hurry to get through a first draft (for me, the most painful part of the entire writing process). Then you hurry-hurry to read and revise it because you're so anxious to fix the millions of things that are wrong with it. Then you hurry to make it somewhat presentable so you can push it out of your own hands, by sending it out somewhere -- either to an agent, editor, or trusted critique partner(s). Right now I'm waiting for feedback on something brand new. In the mean time, I'm looking critically at some old and half-finished projects, trying to see if there's a spark anywhere I should ignite and work on.
But mostly just waiting and wondering. Sometimes I think I should have been a dentist instead. Or any less emotional profession.
