I have no patience. None.
Which is why this week is torture.
I currently have queries (letters of interest for the unindoctrinated) out to a few agents, and I am stalking my email like it was Christmas Eve and I was four and couldn't sleep for fear I'd miss something. In fact, I didn't sleep all that well this morning because right below that layer of consciousness was this knowing that I had sent these letters out, that someone could be reading them right now and sending me a response. Of course when I woke up and checked the Blackberry there was nothing but spam.
I also realized that my letter wasn't as good as it could have been, so I re-vamped and sent out to a couple more agents tonight. Researching agents after Kellen goes to bed has become my routine, actually. By next week I could have a real problem in terms of the number of queries I have out in cyberspace. I should be patient and wait for some responses. Or maybe I should channel my nervous energy into writing Chapter 2, which is currently angering me.
Instead, I'm wandering around my house, anxious for some patience juice while obsessively refreshing my inbox, even at 11 p.m.