A couple of weeks ago I dragged the barbecue out of the shed where I keep it over the winter. It was beat up and cruddy looking and the tank was totally out of gas. Last weekend we took the old tank back and traded it in for a new tank full of propane. Tomorrow, on my day off, the weatherman has promised sunshine and I am going to fire the barbecue up and scrub all of the dirt off and tomorrow night when my wife comes home from work we are going to have ourselves a barbecue.
I know that other folks have had steak and hamburgers and hot dogs already. I’ve smelled my share of barbecues just walking down the street. I know that I am slower than a frozen snail crawling uphill in reverse – but I don’t care and you won’t hear me cry about it.
Sometimes, good things take their time in getting there.
So don’t fret if you don’t sell a billion books today. Don’t fret if Kindle Scout doesn’t grab you up right away. Don’t fret if Stephen King hasn’t phoned you up and asked you for your autograph just yet.
Don’t fret if your book isn’t quite written yet.
Don’t fret if the hounds of debt are baying at your backdoor and peeing on your front.
Don’t fret if all your friends think that you are just kidding yourself that you actually have some kind of ability to write a novel.
Don’t fret if the Man Booker committee neglected to attach your name to their list of nominations for the 48th year in a row.
Don’t fret if BookBub thinks that your font smell funny.
Don’t fret if Jeff Bezos has issued a restraining order upon your last three novels.
And likewise, do not fret if the waters of the mighty Amazon have led the canoe of your typewriter into Yahoo Yokel’s septic field.
Sometimes good things take time.
yours in storytelling,