Submitting a work for publication reminds me a lot of what it felt like to ride my first real roller coaster, which, by the way, was Millennium Force at Cedar Point and, frankly, it scared the hell out of me.
As did submitting this story. There was the choice: I picked, from the search results Duotrope spat out (a really handy web site, by the way, should you find yourself looking for places to send writing to). In the case of Cedar Point, my friend chose Millennium Force because he was a weaselly little bastard and knew I’m afraid of heights. The anticipation and, let’s face it, fear while in the queue, so to speak. Finally, the thrill of hitting send and knowing, acceptance or rejection, I’ve finally grown enough of a backbone to get this far with something that wasn’t my school’s literary magazine.
Millenium Force actually just made me scream noiselessly for about half a minute before I though I was going to black out, but that’s really where the comparison falls apart (except not really, because I’m actually losing my mind over whether or not it’ll get accepted).
However, after much panicking and worrying over specifics and editing the absolute crap out of it, I’ve finally sent “Death at Teatime” off for publication consideration. Something I should have probably done sooner, based on the choruses of “It’s about damn time” the news was met with over on Facebook. Updates on how that goes will follow, naturally.
More importantly, I have ideas for writing, which is awesome since I haven’t had ideas I liked in weeks. Weeks, people. That’s way too freaking long for me not to be able to get writing done, because then I start considering what weird possibilities could happen in real life and that’s not good for anyone.
Phil's Misadventures In Fiction 