Learning to Embrace the Wait

You wrote your heart out.

Wait. No. Not poignant enough. Let’s try this: from the depths of your soul, words—like drops of blood, trickled onto a thousand hungry pages. Eh … that’s cheesy, wordy, and a little weird—not what I’m going for. Better stick with the original.

You wrote your heart out. You spent hundreds of hours polishing, correcting, improving, and editting. Wait. Editting? That doesn’t look right. Duh, there’s only one t in editing. Why in the world would I type it that way? Oh yeah, because the original rule maker of English grammar adored rule exceptions and undoubtedly harbored a secret disdain for teachers and writers.

You wrote your heart out. You spent hundreds of hours editing your work. You then crafted a separate saga, called a proposal, and cradled your baby inside. Why is there a need to wrap a novel inside a novel? Simple. The document is a weed-out device. In case you somehow survive the all-consuming process of birthing a literary masterpiece from the loins of your gut, the proposal is intended to finish you off with one swift kick to your fortitude. But you’re a fighter. So, you rise from the ashes of platform fluff, shake off the lunacy of comparison titles, and plaster your best pageant smile across your pale, screen-bathed, face.

As you take your final lap around the ring and parade-wave to the crowd of agents and editors who are shocked at your survival, your confident stature assures them that you haven’t been knocked loopy by the ninety-thousand-word manuscript you just crammed into a two-paragraph synopsis. Then, with one click you hurl the fruit of your labor into a virtual abyss of hope and shed a tear for the memory of its tender upbringing.

Now, good and faithful writer, after months—perhaps years of toil and type you may finally enter into a rest-filled season of bliss and enjoy the reward of your hard work. Yeah, right.

In a fantasy land there would be no pause between the click of a proposal submission and the dings of your inbox flooding with offers. But this is reality. Not only is there no guarantee any agent, editor or publisher will find interest in your work, there’s no assurance you’ll ever receive a response to indicate they’ve considered it. Nope. You’re now stuck in the scary limbo that separates two parts of the traditional publishing process. And you dangle there like a comma between two independent clauses—confused and unsure of your relevance.

That comma may seem a harsh divider of time, but what if there is more to it than meets the eye? What if we could slice open the jot and use a microscope to examine its insides? And what if we could find an entire chapter of revelation hidden within the confines of that drippy period? I believe we can … well, as far as the comma relates to the wait period between writing and traditional publishing is concerned.

Throughout scripture we see examples of God’s children experiencing ups and downs and the pauses in between. Some of the most powerful lessons Christians can learn are hidden within those waits. Imagine if there had been no pause between Joseph’s adolescent dreams and the fulfillment of the promises? What if Jonah hadn’t experienced his hiatus in the belly of the fish? What if Moses and the Israelites had been teleported to the Promised Land? What if the Messiah had appeared on the scene before Adam and Eve could stitch their fig leaves together? The implications of such omissions are so far and reaching there’s no way to fully fathom the impact. But at the very least, it would have reduced our magnificent, living text into a very dull read.

The waits we experience in life carry the same significance as those we see in scripture. God is at work in us molding us into the image of His son. And, as all writers know, it takes time, patience, and many strategic pauses to create a work of art.

Still, the balance between waiting on the Lord and running our race can be tricky, especially when we’re tempted to check email a hundred times a day for a response to a submission, or we’re bombarded with other writers’ success stories on social media, or rejection letters seem more plentiful than spam mail. During those times it helps to have some practical tips to redirect our steps and keep our focus steady. That’s what I hope to accomplish in this blog series. I can’t wait to share with you what God has been teaching me and hope you’ll share with me some things you’re learning along the way too. Together, we will embrace the wait … with grace and excellence—for His glory.

Annette Marie Griffin is a award-winning writer who speaks at local women’s group meetings and women’s retreats on the topic of biblical womanhood and finding our identity in Christ. She is the Operations and Events Coordinator at a private school for special needs students and is the editor of their quarterly newsletter. She has written custom curriculum for women’s retreats and children’s church curriculum for Gateway Church in San Antonio, Texas where she served as Children’s Ministry Director and Family Program Director for over twenty years. She and her husband John have five amazing children and two adorable grands. She’s a member of Word Weavers International, ACFW, SCBWI, and serves on the Board of Directors for The Creative Writing Institute.