Seven Degrees Left of Center

Waiting on Beta Readers the Art of Not Refreshing the Inbox

I told myself I’d be calm about this part. That I’d send Seven Degrees Left of Center off to my beta readers, close my laptop, and simply… wait.

I lasted about three days.

There’s something oddly vulnerable about knowing people are reading your work in real time — not in theory, not “someday when it’s published,” but right now, while you’re pacing the kitchen, overanalyzing every comma you didn’t change. It’s like handing someone your diary and then pretending you don’t care if they notice the smudged pages.

The funny part is, I trust my beta readers. Completely. I asked them because they see what I can’t. But waiting for feedback still feels like standing seven degrees off-center — close enough to balance, but just tilted enough to make me aware of every little wobble.

So I do what writers do when they’re waiting: reorganize my files, convince myself the coffee maker sounds like an incoming email notification, and reread my own sentences until I’m sure I’ve broken them.

But somewhere in all that waiting, something shifts. I start realizing that this is part of the process — not a pause, but a space. A quiet moment where the story breathes without me. It’s humbling, really. Because feedback isn’t just about fixing flaws; it’s about learning to let go, to trust that what you’ve built can stand on its own while others walk through it.

Maybe that’s what this whole book has been about from the start — learning to navigate slightly off-center, to find direction even when the compass spins a little wild.

So, I wait. Coffee in hand. Inbox open. Still learning the art of patience, one refresh at a time.