Wow. Quite the build-up. Nerves. Wringing hands. Research.
The act itself was almost simple. A few file and saves. A last minute edit. A flash drive.
We’ll pretend it ended there, that I didn’t open and re-open those files, testing, re-testing line breaks, titles. We’ll pretend I didn’t have second thoughts, third thoughts, didn’t drop a poem or two from the packet, didn’t make strange screeching sounds as I uploaded and then hit…submit.
It was an odd sensation…rather like throwing a baseball into a vat of jell-o. There’s the wind-up, the pitch…and then jell-o. The anti-splash. It’s out there. My poetry is out there, just hanging in lime-green limbo as I wait for the rejection.
I’m not letting myself think of the alternative. The idea of rejection…is comforting. Exciting even. An affirmation of the status quo, a tick in the “yes, I’m really a writer” box. The idea of publication, on the other hand, is a little frightening. I think maybe publication will be the death-knell for all of my excuses.
After all, if a magazine is taking me seriously…maybe I have to take me seriously.
The jell-o wobbles, holds firm.
WOK Blog Challenge: Current
Magic Spreadsheet: 9,908 words, 24 day chain, 332 points