I used to think that an adult waiting to get an edit back on his book was like a child waiting to get spanked. The kid just wants to get it over with, but he wishes he could skip the event altogether.
In my old age I've become more optimistic:
I now realize that waiting for a writing critique is more like waiting for a doctor's report.
For a few days the patient sits around and worries that there's a tumor and he's going to die.
Then he KNOWS there's a tumor and he's going to die.
Soon dying is all he can thing about. So he eats a lot of chocolate-covered donuts, because he realizes there that if he's going to die, he might as well die happy.
50 pounds later, the report comes back.
"Sir," the doctor says (because he is a polite doctor), "There is a tumor."
And though the patient is fat from chocolate-covered donuts, his ears still work.
He realizes he isn't going to die.
He realizes he is now a FAT patient who isn't going to die.
And he says, "Kind doctor sir, would you please take the tumor out? Would you help me take the tumor out? Would you make me a new man? And would you do liposuction to remove all this fat you caused in the first place?"
So, here's a note to say thanks for helping make me a new man. Err... woman.
And... could you do liposuction to all the fatty writing I added to my book while I waited for your report?