I don’t mind waiting — certainly not if there is a deadline or date attached to the waiting. It’s the total fog of uncertainty that makes this process less than pleasant.
Go go go. Start walking. Do you legs work? Go. Now. Go go! You don’t have to plan every step. Believe that the world will reveal people and places and objects worthy of your attention.
In many ways I feel very much like I’ve been abutting against a giant ocean liner throughout this agent / publisher process (for a decade now). The lightness of creation is killed by these processes. Unintentional stillness feels like death. Gatekeeper stillness, the most eye-roll-inducing stillness of all. Stillness is important, of course, but projects have energy and momentum, and excessive stillness — when you’re not looking for it — can be terrible. Look at all the terrible, sloppy books published. Now imagine a shadow world of superb books that never got made because they were murdered by these processes. They’re out there, in drawers.
The insanity / frustration is further compounded when you trust your taste (having built up that trust over decades), know you have something that isn’t bullshit, and can’t be bothered to wait for the world to catch up.
References
Nightingalingale