(I could’ve sworn I’ve used the plate spinning metaphor on this blog but nothing’s popping for plate, plates or spinning. I await the sigh-and-eye-roll of the librarians amongst you to school me on my own blog.)
One of the banes of this writing gig has been the resounding radio silence that almost always follows the dispatch of a script to interested parties. I’m more patient than most but the waiting and wondering and imagining has always been difficult:
- I know the script has been received;
- I know the interested parties have other things on their plates;
- and I know that I – just – have – to – be – pa-tient.
But my imagination can run riot: was the script downright terrible? was the script really badly received? have I fallen from favour?
The anxiety of not hearing hasn’t been so crippling the last couple of months. There’s been a deadline every few weeks and as each one has been met or pushed, there’ve been other projects in my queue to leap into. I’m busy enough that I’m aware that I haven’t heard back from whoever, but I’m not really concerned: I have another deadline to meet. It’s nice.
Actually, it feels pretty damned good.
