I submitted a few poems today to one of my favourite literary journals. I had a few poems rejected last year for inclusion in an anthology, one of which was reworked and mailed today, hopefully better than it was before.
I rationalize to myself that, after enough editing/fixing/tinkering, it’s necessary to finally print and send, but it’s so utterly terrifying. Yet, I’m even looking forward to getting a rejection letter, should that be the case. At least that means it’s been considered.
With that, it’s now time to get back to work and massage a new short story into something that might one day become publishable.
Wish me luck.