You send it to your agent. As soon as you hit send, you realize everything that is wrong with your manuscript and wish you could control +z that effer back into your inbox.
You calm down and try not to think about it. That works for approximately two days as you do all the things you neglected to do while drafting (Laundry. Pay bills.)
People start asking ‘How’s it going?” which messes up point three.
Your agent gets back to you. She loves it! Small tweaks she says. Let’s talk, she says.
You wonder if your agent’s definition of ‘tweaks’ is some obscure medieval definition that actually means large, seismic changes.
You and your agent talk. Or, she talks and you madly scribble down notes and make stupid jokes. You agree with all her changes because she’s a genius. Or there’s one point that you push back on (or two, or three) but after talking it out, you agree, or convince her of your point. This talking, hashing it out is part of the work. You marvel at all the little pieces of thinking that makes a book go.
You get off the phone with your agent and realize that you have promised her a bunch of changes (deep digs, cosmetic changes and killing off some people) in FOUR WEEKS. CRAP! These are medieval tweaks.
You realize that one of those weeks is going to evaporate because it’s Christmas.
You panic, gently, into your Holiday Spiced Flat White.
A friend who is beta reading for you texts you from a plane to say she’s freaked out and can’t wait to read more.
Another beta reader friend tells you she loves it…and gives you a whole bunch of suggestions for edits.
You realize that writing is a living thing. It’s never over. It’s only ever evolving, growing. This, instead of throwing you into despair, makes you happy. A sustainable writing life. It’s what you’ve always started.
You stop writing your blog post and get to work revising.