This is not the email your waiting for…

Every would-be author has done it. Waited and waited and waited for that all-important verdict on their manuscript. Even though I still chuckle every time I call myself a writer, I have spent almost 2 weeks impatiently waiting. Even though I was told it would take 10-14 days, I knew that once I got to this week I would be jumping on my phone every time it tooted to let me know that I was receiving mail.

However, there is a tiny part of you that doesn’t really want to know what the professional thinks because, in a matter of seconds, a year’s work could be flushed down the toilet, condemned. I am a wife, a mother, a nurse (well, I was once); a member of the invisible disease club; a blonde (maybe should have put that first!), and a Brit. But am I a writer?

Even if an editor thinks I am, it is the readers of the world that will decide whether or not my slightly steamy imagination and humorous story telling is good enough to officially make me a recognized author. It would be amazing if that happened, but if it doesn’t I will still carry on writing because, at the end of the day, this is for me, nobody else – ME!! Rarely do I say that – I think those who know me well would agree that I am far from self-centered – but occasionally a girl just needs a little something she can call her own, especially if she’s worked hard to earn it and overcome many obstacles along the way. I would like to reinforce something I have said before and will probably say again and again: this is something my disease can NEVER take away from me.

Meanwhile back at the email… all day long, every single ‘toot’ was Gap, or Restoration Hardware (can’t afford to buy anything in there anyway but a girl can dream!), info about Jeans Day at school, Facebook messages, school field trip news. You name it; it all came through, without a single bit of consideration for the fact that my nerves were in absolute tatters. Then, while making dinner, supervising homework, catching the contents of my five year old’s nose as he sneezed for the 5 millionth time and folding my 500th load of laundry… ‘TOOT’ – I ignore it, it’s after 5pm, it can’t be important, it will just be Banana Republic AGAIN trying to sell me another dress I don’t need. BUT, I found out over an hour later, yes a WHOLE HOUR later, that it WAS the email I was waiting for…

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