I submitted a manuscript on April 10. When I left for a conference last week its status was "with reviewers." When I checked again last night it had changed to "awaiting editor decision."
I hate waiting, she said in her Inigo Montoya voice.
My hopes were not high for this manuscript -- I was a little surprised when my advisor wanted to submit it to the flagship journal in our field. I think there's a home for it somewhere, but I expect it to get rejected from this particular journal.
Even so, I'm not very good at waiting for the axe to fall.
At the conference I presented a related poster, and I had a couple of conversations with a woman who surprised me with her strong opinions about it. She wound up the first conversation by saying, "I think that's a serious confound that you need to consider." I spent the next three hours thinking, "Confound?? What's it confounded with?? What could she possibly mean?" I understood the issue she was raising but I still don't know why she would call it a confound, except maybe in an Inigo-Montoya-speaks-again sort of way. We crossed paths at the next poster session and I asked her to tell me more. The second conversation left me less unhappy, but still certain that she found my measure unpersuasive.
And then...last night I discovered that she is the associate editor in charge of my paper.
It is probably a faux pas that I didn't know it at the time, right? But if I had known it, wouldn't I have been expected to keep quiet about the manuscript under review? It's not like I could have said, "Why, hello, Dr. Holding-My-Future-In-Your-Typing-Hands! May I buy you a beer? Or two? Or a pedicure? Did I mention that you're looking very pretty today? And also clever?"
This morning I woke up feeling glum, feeling certain that a rejection was imminent and also that my summer students will hate my class. I was thinking about waiting and Isaiah 40, thinking that my wings do not feel very eagle-y on this particular day. I am feeling more dodo-esque, or perhaps, if I am feeling generous, penguin-esque. I am trying to remember that I don't have to be eagle-y in advance: it is God who bestows grace, and not Jamie who has to manufacture it.