I promise that this blog will eventually become something other than a syncopatedly pathetic drip of information concerning the journey of ONE measly little article. Now comes the whole “naked in front of the doctor AND my wife” sort of disembodied feeling. Right now, somebody is poring over my writing, most likely saying “what in THE WORLD? Is this man on drugs? I mean, he’s funny and all, but I’m not sure this kind of calibrated schizophrenia will fit within our comparatively mellow subject matter.”
It literally feels like I imagine it feels to be a color blind guy working for the bomb squad. Through the static-ridden, Tandy Corporation radio comes the following directive:
“Clip the red wire.”
It is my understanding that most successful writers started out with a drawer full of rejection letters. I guess nowadays it is rejection emails. They just kept at it until they got someone to accept something they’d written. Start on your second piece while you’re waiting to hear about this one. If the magazine accepts your article, they will likely do some editorial slicing to your original piece.
Yep. My understanding as well. I think I’m more skittish about having it hacked than rejected. I mean, if you don’t like my kid, don’t put them on the team. Suggesting I amputate their arm? meh.
I’ve had my stuff hacked up as I wrote in an earlier comment to and earlier post. My wife will tell you I wasn’t happy about it. I alternately fumed and despaired. Still, in the end I produced a better paper because of it. My committee chair finally said to me, “Steve, if you want to write a 500-page paper, go for it. Just make sure you cover thoroughly all the things you are not covering well right now, and that’s about what it will take you. If you want to graduate from the program, I’d suggest paring the paper down to a few concepts you can cover adequately in the 40-60 page suggested limit the program gives you.” I took his advice and graduated. You can expect to have these emotions, Ron.
Expect to have them? I’m slamming straight shots from the 100-proof bottle of Pessimism!
Go tie a Reverse Hackle on your Uke and wave it over the Sac for a few hours. You’ll be fine.
They will enjoy what you have submitted as much as your friends enjoy the innate oddness that is YOU Relax you got this 🙂
Your faith in me is appreciated, Kim!