Veer had marked a date on his calendar months ago.
That date had now come and gone, and his book was still not finished being made.
🦁 Veer Singh
Ved, how long does publishing actually take? I feel like I am waiting endlessly.
📖 Ved
As long as the manuscript needs. Not a day more, and not a day less.
🦁 Veer Singh
That is not a timeline, Ved.
Ved smiled at his impatience.
📖 Ved
Do you remember what we spoke of when your manuscript was first submitted? Review, discussion, evaluation, editing, production.
🦁 Veer Singh
I remember. I did not realise each of those would take real time.
📖 Ved
Each stage exists because rushing it would cost your book something. A rushed review misses what matters. Rushed editing leaves mistakes readers will find long after you cannot fix them.
Veer looked at the calendar on the wall, the crossed-out date staring back at him.
🦁 Veer Singh
I had imagined a date, and I have been measuring everything against it since.
📖 Ved
A date imagined before the work began rarely matches the work once it is truly known.
🦁 Veer Singh
So the waiting means something is wrong?
📖 Ved
No, Veer. The waiting usually means something is being done properly. A book quietly becoming what it was meant to be does not announce itself loudly.
Ved took a finished book from the shelf and turned to its very last page.
📖 Ved
This book took far longer than its author expected too. Today, no reader has ever asked how long it took. They only ask whether it was worth reading.
🦁 Veer Singh
No one has ever put down a book and complained it took too long to be written well.
📖 Ved
Exactly. A reader remembers whether a book moved them. They do not remember its production calendar.
Veer took the crossed-out date down from the wall, and for the first time in months, did not replace it with another.
