Waiting.
Just the sound of the word sends shivers down my spine. It conjures swirls of stress and shadows of doubt.
In short, I hate waiting.
Whenever I submit a short story for publication, I feel anxious. I feel excited. I feel accomplished. But those feelings are often short lived. Once I submit a story, I start to second guess myself. Did I proof read enough, did I format correctly, did I attach the document to the submission email?
Maybe I am a closet perfectionist?
Many of my short stories are written on a whim. The thought comes to me and I just go with it. I am always happy about the outcome. The problem is the waiting. I am usually fine up until the date of final submission. Then I get antsy. I start to think about my story, and how it could improve. Many times, it morphs into something different in my mind. Something better.
As the gears spin, I find that a a better story develops. Many times, a story that is much more in depth and epic. The birth of a novel, possibly?
I find that many of my short stories eventually find themselves as introductions to something much bigger.
Currently, I have a couple stories awaiting acceptance/rejection. I find myself stalking their Facebook pages, obsessively checking my emails, and sneaking around their blogs, in hopes of a surprise announcement that I might have missed.
Whether rejected, or accepted, I am okay with the outcome. The short story that I created can become so much more with a little nurture and love. So why am I so anxious? I guess I just don't like to wait.
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