I submitted my first two writings for publication last week. It was a huge breakthrough for myself and my writing, which I had hoarded like a dragon’s treasure for most of my life. I liked to pretend that I wrote for other people, but in truth, showing people my work terrified me. Writing is such a pure and direct correlation to one’s thoughts…I always thought that if someone didn’t like my writing, it meant that they didn’t like the real me. I felt like I poured a little bit of my soul on the page, and putting that out in the open for others to casually read was appalling. Not saying that my writing is high-caliber (so far from it), just that I hate being judged and even more, I hate being wrong. And since writing is an art, there are so many ways to be “wrong.”
But I was never happy just writing for myself. When I wrote for others and saw the emotions that my work caused, it felt like magic. I was working a spell on them through words on paper, causing them to feel emotions and see images that had only existed in my head. Now it existed in two heads, three, more…What a crazy thing this was…It is my biggest motivator for continuing to write.
This week (hopefully today), I will hear back from one of those publications. I am fully expecting rejection, but at the same time, there’s that glimmer of hope…but even if I get that first golden rejection slip, I am proud of myself. I wrote a work specifically for publication, meeting a guideline with a cover letter to boot…Those are things I am proud of doing. No regrets here.
How do you other writers cope with the waiting game? Absorb large amounts of Netflix? Check your email ten times a day? Let me know in the comments and we can wait together!