Mar 08 2009
Waiting
I know you have been. “Where the hell is ShakespeareMom?” you’ve ranted. “It’s, like, 4:15 her time. Why the hell doesn’t she post?” Okay, so maybe that’s not what you’re thinking. Maybe you get to this blog once every few weeks, and you’re reading this eight days after I post it…
Oh, to be truly popular. *sigh*
Anyway, I digress. I was talking about WAITING, that excruciating extended amount of time when we sit expectantly still, when we listen, watch, and pine away while we depend upon someone else for something to happen. Maybe we’re waiting by the phone for a call from some guy we went on a date with, some guy who said he’d call five days prior. Maybe we sent off a bunch of resumes, and we’re waiting for a single call for an interview. Maybe we’re waiting for dinner (my kids always are).
But we’re waiting. Tense, worried, impatient, unable to move on until we know something.
Welcome to my world. I’d list out all the ways I have to wait, and all the people I have to wait for, but I just wrote out a ranting blog, and I don’t want to anymore.
But I have a theory. I think waiting is a way for other people to have power over you. I learned this from my son. You see, if he knows I’m waiting for him to get dressed in the morning, he’ll drag it out as long as possible (sometimes TWO HOURS). It’s his way of telling me that he is in charge of his clothing situation, not me.
And when my husband is late, he’s telling me that his time is more important than mine, that his obligations are more important than mine, etc. Naturally, he’ll deny thinking either of these things. After all, he doesn’t usually like sleeping on the couch.
That’s the two-part equation in my theory.
1. Making people wait = power.
2. Making people wait = pissing people off.
Can you actually think of a time when you didn’t get peeved when you had to wait a long time? I don’t tend to fester when the check at a restaurant comes a little late, or when a new cashier isn’t perfect. That would be stupid. No more would I mind waiting for a really good ending to a novel…
But I rage when a novel goes nowhere for hours, when my husband misses dinner time by ninety minutes, when an appointment doesn’t show.
Think about this with your writing. It’s one thing to wield your authorial power and make us wait for a good scene, pinching us here and there as you build suspense. It’s another thing entirely to blow everybody up without reason, to make a quick ending to keep everything hanging for the next book, or to make us read thousands of unnecessary words filled with nothing but fluff, just to prove you can do it.
As for me, you’ll only do it to me once. Only my husband gets away with it with few serious repercussions.
My son–he’s not so lucky. If he doesn’t get dressed, he gets a time-out. Let him wait a while, so he knows MY power.
I divorced my husband because he made me wait one time too many. That was the time I was waiting for him to pick me up from class and I had to wait outside in a rough neighborhood. This was after he made me wait in a different rough neighborhood and I was attacked. I took my power back.
Sis, my kids are ALWAYS hungry. No kidding. They finish dinner and immediately ask me when I’m going to give them a snack. If my kids could eat all day, they would.
Then again, if I could eat all day, I would. Thankfully, I have a lot of other pursuits that I would do all day if I could, too, and most are incompatible with eating. Thank God for piano playing, writing, singing, sewing, and painting!
Oh, and aw2500, I can certainly see that ordeal as a problem. I can’t imagine my husband’s ever forgiving himself for such an event, let alone my forgiving him.
Oh, and Shakespearemom,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Did you know Roxy loves cottage cheese? Is that your influence?