Moments

I'm not always the sharpest tool in the shed. Or maybe, it's that I'm simply a glutton for punishment. But rejection is part and parcel of this writing business, and you'd think, after the last few years, I'd try my very best to avoid rejection. To write, rewrite, revise, and revise again so that whatever piece I'm working on is in its best and most beautiful form when I submit it.

Normally, I do that. The other day, I did not.

So here I sit, waiting for a rejection that is bound to come through, knowing that--unlike other submissions, which have been my best work--I can't even hope that it will be accepted. It probably shouldn't be accepted, should it? And I have to ask myself, what was I thinking?

Truthfully, I have no idea what I was thinking at the time. Maybe I submitted in a moment of despair, knowing full well the piece wasn't ready, as a way to prove to myself that I have a long way to go. But I'm normally not a defeatist like that.

I'm just hoping the editors are quick. The quicker the rejections come, the less painful they are. Just like the removal of a band-aid. I'm also hoping that eventually, long after I've received word that this piece "just isn't a good fit" that instead of a rejection, I see a yes.

I guess we all have our moments, and I had one the other day.