I came out of the bookstore, walked around the truck, unlocked the door, and got in. I waited there in the passenger seat. Then I realized I’d gone shopping on my own and had driven myself.
Ah. I glanced around to see if anyone was looking, got out of the truck, walked back around, and got in the driver’s side. I drove straight home.
Sometimes I’m waiting for someone else to come along and tell me my writing works, that it makes sense, that I know what I’m doing. Then I realize I’m alone in this thing.
I have really got to get this thing on the road because I don’t want to sit in the parking lot. To lose the metaphor, I have got to start polishing my writing and sending out query letters again.
What are you waiting for someone else to take of?