or Novel anxiety
It’s been almost a month since I sent my novel to my old screenwriting teacher, who had offered to look at it for me and take her “mean red pen” to it (her words, not mine). Other than an e-mail a few days later which made no specific reference to the manuscript but had a link to a Christian writers’ organization, I haven’t heard a peep from her since, and since she’s doing me a huge favor I am in no position to pester her about it.
It will come as a surprise to no one among my friends and family that I have been over-thinking this. The most likely explanation is that she’s been busy with her own life and hasn’t really had time to devote to looking at someone else’ manuscript. But my mind wanders through other possible explanations:
* The manuscript is truly, utterly horrible, and she is afraid she will offend me by telling me so.
* The manuscript puts her to sleep every time she picks it up.
* The manuscript is truly, utterly horrible, and she can’t force herself to look at more than a page or so per day.
* The manuscript has driven her stark raving mad, and she is currently in the care of trained professionals.
You know, if my writing were half as creative as my neurosis, I’d be on the New York Times best-seller list by this point.
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March 6, 2008 at 8:21 am
[...] John Carney is suffering from novel anxiety. An old friend is editing his work and he is feeling a ...