Krista over at Mother. Write. (Repeat.) just posted about the publishing waiting game. She had some interesting thoughts on why the road to become a published author, while nerve wracking and sometimes unbearable, isn't the worst thing. Her point was that as long as you're waiting, you're still in the game. Even in the loneliest, darkest pit of limbo, there's a glimmer of something wonderful to keep you going - it's hope.
Writing has been an adventure that has taken me down the rabbit hole where down is up and up is backwards. Sometimes, I feel like I'm in a foreign country (digitally speaking) with its own customs, celebrities, and history. Through it all, even when things are looking bleak, my hope refuses to die. It manifests itself as a tiny voice encouraging me to keep writing, keep revising, keep working at my craft. Often I find myself wanting to tell it to take that cheerleading bull and shove it. Then I remember that I'm having an argument with myself in my head and I stop because I'm not established enough to be haunted by inner demons (yet!).
The process of querying, entering contests, and finding new beta readers for more revisions is tiresome. There are days when I want to quit just so I can sit on my butt and read a good book (which is how I got myself in this predicament in the first place). But I know that I will never be satisfied until I'm published. I won't ever quit because I'm compelled to forge on for reasons I don't even understand myself. As long as there are stories that need to be written, I'll write them. Plain as that.
While waiting still sucks, I'm happy to look at it from a fresh perspective. Waiting is the place where my hope lives and thrives on the limitless possibilities to come. I'm grateful to be in the game at all, so I wait. Hoping, I wait.