The Silence of the Editor

For the past two years I've been waiting for one editor to call me. It's like waiting for a cheap date. He never calls. Never writes. And I just wait by the phone and chew my fingernails. He says he's going to call. Soon. "I'll call you," he says. "Sorry, I got busy," he tells me. "Well, I'll call you next week," he schmoozes.

Actually . . . at this point I could care less. The way I figure it, there is incompetency in every business and walk of life, and I might just be working with an editor who can't edit. Still, it is frustrating.

But I'm used to waiting. If patience is a virtue, hell's bells, my clapper is ringin'!

I've been waiting on editors my entire life: the ones who tell me they love me, but then reject my work; the ones who say they will be offering a contract, but then renege; the ones who tell me they are going to publish my work, but never get around to calling with verification or a check.

But hey, I'm a sucker. This guy is going to call me today! I just feel it. I'm going to be waiting right here by the phone (he said he's going to call!!!!) and I'll pick up on the third ring.

After all, I don't want to appear too anxious. I'm not, after all, a cheap date.