Pray?

Got an email today from an agent in Oregon who wants to see the first 3 chapters of my historical fiction book. I’m always ambivalent about praying for things like this, because I’m overwhelmingly aware of the fact that I truly have no idea what’s best for me… let alone anyone else.

I’ve actually been spending a lot of time evaluating and praying through my writerly ambitions lately. I often question the value of what I do—both the quality of my writing and, to be honest, even the prospect of “success” leaves me doubtful. I can’t imagine not writing and not wanting to be published, and yet I think sometimes about the pressure of deadlines, of rewriting for the hundredth time, the daily temptation to check amazon’s sell chart, the frustrating fact that if it’s nearly impossible to sell a book as an unpublished author, it’s even worse for the guy with one book that already flopped…

What I’m saying is that, like certain gray donkeys I know, I pretty much live under my own thundercloud.

I really, really want this random middle-aged guy in Oregon to like my book (at least enough to look at the FULL manuscript, maybe?). It’s hard to be patient, to let myself hope, and to be clear-sighted about what I really ought to be doing.

Am off to revise.

Pray for my mental health, if nothing else…