Week One; We Wait

So I’ve shared my novel with a few friends and David Henry Sterry - Mr. Book Doctor, and  now I wait.  I have a sneaking suspicion that people aren't reading my novel, but I’ve been there myself.  People who have written manuscripts tend to have a scary look in their eyes:  part desperation, part manic insanity.  I've run the other way myself, just like everyone seems to be doing with me, and I know why.  No one wants to deal with people who are so egotistical they believe they can write a novel.  No doubt it’s a manifesto of some sort, anyway since those  writers are a crazy lot, right?
Meanwhile, I’m floundering without writing.  I don’t like not writing.  Even yesterday, when I got a massage from the Chinese Acupressure guys with the massage chairs in the mall, I felt uncomfortable.  What?  No one gets massages from these guys?  That explains a lot.  Anyway, after my massage, I picked up my free gift with purchase at the Clinique department in Dillards.   I’ve been looking forward to owning yet another pretty bag and $65 worth of makeup I don’t need, but after the initial rush of excitement, my gift seemed meaningless. 
A free spray of Chanel No 5 lifted my spirits, as did a  Starbucks iced caffe mocha, but the truth remains; I’m only going to be happy when I’m writing.  This stage of the process – the sales and marketing part – is a necessary evil, though.  I’m showing the world I believe in what I’ve written enough to fight for it.  I’m showing the world my determination.  And yes, I’m showing the world just how crazy I really am.
Meanwhile, the first reader who returns my manuscript will get a bottle of Clinique moisturizer (you didn't think I'd give away the whole bag did you?).