There has been an uncomfortable feeling following me around like a late-afternoon shadow.
Well, all I needed to do was check out my Google Docs to be reminded of the spreadsheet I set up a few months back to keep track of my freelance submissions. Since I hadn't been exercising my keyboard skills because I was out of town, I haven't had a reason to go there. Well, now that I'm back and I have gotten through my backlogged to-do list (grocery shop, doctor appointment, pick up medicine from the pharmacy, follow up on past-due bills, drop off Preschooler in Chief's late school photo order, etc., etc.), I finally decided it's time to attempt to get back into my writing routine. And there it was, that reminder that eight weeks has come and nearly gone since I submitted my essay to Newsweek. And there hasn't been a word from them. And in this business, silence is not golden. On the bright side, there are six more days before I'm officially rejected. Sigh.
Maybe because it takes so long to be rejected from these publications it makes it feel like the rejection is bigger than it really is. There have only been two rejections at this point, which really isn't all that bad. And there are still several other publications that I can try to place my piece with. But you submit your work and wait and wait and wait.
Perhaps if I was a big-named writer with lots of recent clips at national publications, getting my stuff published wouldn't be so emotional (or difficult). But then again, I'm sure big-named writers probably don't write stuff on spec without knowing that it will be published wherever they want it to be published. So I guess I just need a break. I need to get a couple of pieces featured in prominent publications. Then things would get easier. Or maybe I wouldn't sweat it so much if an occasional piece was rejected.
I wonder if it's better to keep shooting for the big publications or to start small and take my small successes to the bigger publications. It has to be who you know. And at this point, I don't know the right people.
Father in Chief says I should shelf the essay for a bit and work on something totally different. And I could do that because I always have ideas bouncing around my brain. But I don't want to start from scratch. And if I'm going to be working, then I'd rather work on my other who-knows-if-it-will-ever-get-published project: my book. Ugh.