I’m facing the in-between time.
All the flurry of being a debut author is over. And some of the mystery is gone. There’s less anticipating the thrills of authorship and more anticipating the work I’ll need to do to support my second novel.
There are some things I can do in advance, but a lot of the work will come later, closer to the release. And so I wait in the in-between time.
These are the thumb twiddling days when I’m waiting for galleys of book #2, waiting to hear what my editors think of book #3. Starting book #4, but not having the pressure of a deadline to urge me on.
Plus, it’s January. No holidays, no celebrations, no events–just 2015 spread out in front of me with several future months so jam-packed I wish I could move some of those days to now.
My Mom has a saying (she has quite a few!). When I was bored or impatient, wishing Christmas or my birthday or summer vacation would hurry up and arrive, she’d say, “Don’t wish your life away.”
I usually rolled my eyes and kept wishing.
But now, a grown-up myself, I remember what Mom said and I guess she was smarter than I knew. It’s tempting to sit in the in-between time wishing something exciting would happen. Wishing my next novel would release or I’d win an award or I’d be invited to speak somewhere.
But then I might miss Saturday’s two-hour hike through a rhododendron ravine where a bold stream curled around mossy rocks. I might miss sitting around after dinner, sipping wine and talking about LIFE with my husband. I might miss watching dogs play tug-o-war in the sunshine while the wind kicks up last fall’s leaves. I might miss reading an extra novel or two just because I have the time.
Life isn’t the exciting bits, I think. The exciting bits are just sequins and beads and tassels stitched onto the background of a rich fabric we weave each day. And the in-between time gives me time to appreciate the weight and heft of the pattern I’m blessed to weave.