Plant, Water, Wait
Balancing out the hustle and the hold.
Every writer knows this season.
The rewrite is finally done. You’ve polished every scene, obsessed over every comma, hit “Submit,” and sent your query into the world.
Then comes the hardest part.
The waiting.
Welcome to the Limbo Lounge, where your inbox suddenly becomes the most interesting place on Earth and refreshing your email somehow feels like a productive activity.
So...what do you do while you wait?
Plant.
Maybe you dust off an old script that’s been patiently sitting on your hard drive. Maybe you outline a shiny new idea. Maybe you dive into a craft book because learning is its own kind of progress.
Just keep planting.
Because if you plant it write—yes, I meant write—your garden has a much better chance of blooming.
I’ve watched writers get so caught up in the hustle that they hand over a script before it’s truly ready. It’s like proudly delivering someone a tomato plant and promising them a BLT. The potential is there...but the tomatoes haven’t shown up yet.
I understand the temptation. You’re excited. You’re afraid you’ll miss your chance.
But a rushed script is far more likely to miss its chance than a polished one.
Great stories deserve time to grow.
Water.
Watering isn’t just rewriting. It’s continuing to invest in your craft while your work is out in the world. It’s reading scripts, taking classes, supporting other writers, entering contests, querying thoughtfully, and writing the next story.
Your words are a gift. Keep growing them.
And then...
Wait.
Oh, the waiting.
It’s like staring at a hydrangea every morning hoping today is the day it magically doubles in size.
You want to email: Have you read it yet?
Don’t.
If it’s a query, give people three to six weeks before following up. They’re busy. Reading takes time.
Contest results? I’m living that season right now, and somehow these long summer days feel even longer.
But here’s what gardening teaches us.
Seeds don’t bloom because you stand over them impatiently.
They bloom because you planted them well, watered them consistently, and trusted the process long enough for something beautiful to happen.
So while one script is growing somewhere out in the world, I open a blank page and start another.
Because that’s what writers do.
We plant.
We water.
We wait.
And eventually, if we’ve done the work, we harvest.
Writing is like the gardening cycle. No need to rush either. It will take its time to bloom.