Survival Tips for the Waiting Part of Writing Tip #25—Embrace the Wait

This post may seem familiar. I began my very first post for the Embrace the Wait column with the same following paragraphs. But now, through two years of waits, in life and writing, God has given me a deeper perspective which has altered the article’s ending. And isn’t that what embracing the wait is all about?

You wrote your heart out.

Wait. No. That doesn’t seem poignant enough. Let’s try this: from the depths of your soul, words—like drops of blood, trickled onto a thousand hungry pages. Eh … too 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 Grand Poobah of English grammar adored 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 it a proposal, and cradled your baby inside the monstrosity. 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 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 parade-wave to the crowd of agents and editors who are shocked at your survival, your smile assures them that you’re a professional—that condensing a ninety-thousand-word manuscript into a two-paragraph synopsis is perfectly normal and thrilled you beyond words.

Then, with one tap of the magical, unforgiving send button, you hurl the fruit of your labor into a virtual abyss. You dare to hope and shed a tear in memory of your baby’s tender upbringing.

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

Yeah, right.

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

That comma may seem a simplistic divider of time, but what if there is more to the ancient curl 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, their 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.

He wrote his heart out—by crafting all of creation. He’s spent thousands of years refining His work—that we continue to botch. He wrapped His creation inside a proposal—to reunite us with Himself through Jesus. And now, as we all wait in this comma of time for His faithful voice to call us home, we are commanded to do the following: “… throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

Maybe that’s why many of us struggle when confronted with long periods of waiting. It’s makes more sense to run a race than to wait a race. The dictionary defines the word wait as, “to stay where one is or delay action until a particular time or until something else happens.”

But the Christians’ definition of the four lettered w word is inherently different because the object of our wait is not a something—it’s always a Someone. Whatever endeavor God calls us to wait through, our confidence and focus lies in who He is.

When we realize that time is not the substance of our wait, it is easy to view time for what it really is. A tool. God uses the instrument of time to accomplish His purposes and plans much like a writer uses a pen to form the letters and words that fill a manuscript with story.

As God writes your perfect life story, may you be strengthened by the knowledge of His great love for you and be given the peace to rest in His sovereign plan—especially the waiting part.

Annette Marie Griffin is an award-winning author who has managed and directed programs for children and youth for more than twenty years. She has written curriculum for character growth and development of elementary-age children, developed parent training seminars to benefit the community, and counseled at-risk youth. Her first children’s book What Is A Family? released in 2020. She and her husband have five children—three who have already flown the coop and two adopted teens still roosting at home—plus two adorable grands who add immeasurable joy and laughter to the whole flock.