It's a waiting game, this business of trying to become writer. Sending my squalling infant manuscripts out to agents and editors, I am strung with a combination of hope and anxiety which becomes, by degrees, a bobbing calm and eventually settles to grey resignation. And then the realisation that I need to get on and do - write - other things. But it has made me very good at waiting.
It has occurred to me this week that it's made me good at other things too.
Adapting to change: in terms of rewriting an entire novel at the behest of an agent or editor who then walks away, sure, but always having faith that change is a force for good and welcoming it rather than resisting.
Being captain of my own ship: putting my books on Kindle, promoting them and believing in myself. If I don't steer my own course, who will? Courage and resilience are required for life.
Embracing diversity: excellent for characterisation. Also excellent for tolerance, acceptance and living peaceably in the world and accepting everything it has to offer.
Sometimes I quail under the weight of doubts and misgivings but I don't know if I would bear these traits at all if I weren't at heart a writer. I know I couldn't be one without them.
