I’m waiting for people to say yes. I’m waiting for people to say no.
I’m waiting for inspiration to strike.
I’m waiting for trepidation to recede.
I’m waiting for confusion to clear up (ha ha–never!).
The other verbs that go with waiting are goofing off, surfing, thinking and avoiding.
I’m goofing off in every possible way by doing *other* kinds of work, which is BAD.
I’m surfing the interwebz for new author promotion strategies.
I’m thinking of all the ways I can strengthen my characters.
I’m avoiding the tough stuff–should I *really* be a writer? Should I quit my job, pierce my lip, dye my hair teal, and take up photography? Should I buy a pair of purple Chucks? Should I run away to Australia? All of these things are valid questions, except the last one. I couldn’t run away because then my kid wouldn’t take his vitamins, and then he’d die of scurvy and rickets and other horrible diseases, which would not be OK.
(Do people even know what “four-letter words” are anymore? Like p*ss and sh*t and f*ck? Maybe the four-letter word concept is old and tired, but I still think wait is one of them.)
The pug is for you, Amy Tipton, and the sign is from here.