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Limbo

Tree beside a foggy roadWe’re all waiting for Hurricane Florence to make landfall, even those of us who live far away. With friends and relatives in the Carolinas, we’re braced for disaster with both a thrill at the power of nature and a gnawing, anticipatory helplessness.

The weather mirrors my own restless limbo while I wait to hear back from my agent about my new YA novel. He tells me he’ll have notes for me next week, which is soon, and I trust he likes the book, but I won’t know for sure until then.

Both situations remind me that we have little control, sometimes, over things that matter to us a lot. We can prepare, evacuate, and work hard, but we still encounter times when we have to wait, when a turning point depends on someone or something else.

This is the time before answers. But those answers are exterior ones. The inner ones are still in our control. For me, limbo has solidified one thing: I’m certain my novel is good. It’s not perfect, it may not be good enough for the next stage, but it’s the best I can do at this point. I’m as ready as I can be.

My thoughts are with those in the path of the hurricane. Stay safe.

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