Drafts and drafts

When I handed in my novel a week ago, my agent said he had several other books in the queue ahead of it, so it’d be a few weeks before he could get to mine. I admit, my initial response was — “Good, because I can’t stand to look at it anymore.” That was the fourth? fifth? draft, and I had read most of those words many, many times.
But now I’ve had a week to decompress, and I could use a few more weeks, but I can actually see a time when I will be happy to read his comments, even if his comments involve lots of rewriting, because I want this novel to be great, and in service to that goal, I am apparently willing to hurl myself at the wall, over and over and over again.

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