I was driving my elder daughter to school this morning when Marvel Girl made the unexpected announcement that she had watched The Princess Bride again last night. As someone who has watched that film approximately eleventy-six times, I was filled with a warmish sense of maternal pride. I say warm-ish because it was precisely eleven degrees and blustery outside (and that, as any self-respecting Sydneysider knows, is what we proclaim around here to be cold — along with any other celsius temperature reading that fails to begin with the number 2 and is followed by another digit).

I am still unsure what prompted Marvel Girl to take another look at one of the favourite films of my childhood, and as a result have been afflicted ever since I dropped her off by what I am now grandiosely (and ever so slightly theatrically) referring to as the Curse of Inigo Montoya.

Although Inigo’s more famous and oft-quoted line in The Princess Bride features him introducing himself and then advising his foe that they should prepare to die (in what some have described as a masterclass in effective networking), I believe another of his classic statements is entirely more relatable and have thus co-opted it to form the basis of said Curse.

Even if you’ve only seen the movie once, you know the line:

I hate waiting.

See? TOTALLY RELATABLE. I defy you to present me with a single person on the planet who actually enjoys waiting. Even though waiting is something we all have to do — it could even be said to be a defining feature of the human condition — I genuinely believe the person who finds waiting pleasurable is about as rare as say…oh, I dunno, someone with six fingers on their right hand?

Waiting SUCKS.

Anyone who has held on for any kind of meaningful response (and I include this category everything from academic scores, job applications, marriage proposals and — probably worst of all — medical test results) knows how agonisingly dreadful waiting is. Samuel Beckett clearly knew all about it: Waiting for Godot goes exactly nowhere yet somehow keeps audiences riveted to their seats.

The slippery, torturous and endlessly annoying thing about waiting, you see, is that the tantalising promise of some kind of result or outcome forces us to endure the unbearable space between.

I wrote a while back about the liminal places in our lives when I was in the process of finishing my novel. But now, now that I have shepherded my words onto the page and guided them into the hands of a prospective publisher, I am back in that space between again. This is not nearly as simple as waiting for Marvel Girl to get home to ask her why she watched The Princess Bride again (and to apologise for forgetting to ask her how her English exam went yesterday — yet another maternal fail). The stakes feel so much higher and, depending on the day, they are tangled up with words like worthiness and success and the unthinkable opposites of those.

This, my friends, is the Curse of Inigo Montoya.

And yet, The Princess Bride gives me hope.

Inigo Montoya, though cursed to wait, never gives up. Buttercup never stops loving Westley. Miracle Max somehow finds a way to pull off a marvellous death-defying feat. The baddies (even the Rodents Of Unusual Size) get beaten, the goodies rescue the princess, true love prevails, and the world now knows the true meaning of the phrase, “As you wish”.

It’s all quite heartening, really.

Waiting is giving me the opportunity to tinker here, in my little patch of cyberspace, for the first time in months. It’s allowing me to read books occupying the same genre I write (which I tend to avoid when creating to avoid becoming at all derivative), to listen to podcasts I wouldn’t normally have time to (which led this morning to me snort laughing when I heard the enormously intelligent and wickedly funny Marina Hyde describing the long-feuding Cyrus family as “Tennessee Lannisters”), to plan extensively detailed holiday itineraries, to cook things I haven’t made for ages or haven’t ever made — the list goes on and on and on — and all because waiting, much as I find it utterly and completely maddening, waiting gives me the space and time to do all these things.

Turns out the Curse of Inigo Montoya may be a blessing in disguise.

And so, my friends, whatever you find yourself waiting for, may you find Inigo’s Blessing rather than his Curse.

Mind yourselves,

BJx