If You Love Something….

If you love something…break your white knuckle, sweaty fingered grip on it and let the thing go. No really, put it down. That’s it. Good writer…. Want a cookie (or a biscuit if you hail from the UK)?
       Why is submitting a story so much more difficult than posting it to a blog? In both situations it leaves your hands (metaphorically, in this day and age) and goes out to be read and judged by those who may or may not know you. I try not to go back and edit blog posts unless there is a dramatic mistake. I’m sure it’s a combination of stubbornness and pride–if it was good enough for me to put it out there, it can stay that way (false). 
       The point is, however, that if I so choose, I can delete or edit or completely change a blog post in a few minutes with a couple of keystrokes. Once you submit something…it’s gone. In theory, you could email the person saying, “Wait, wait! I forgot a comma!” But not only is that unprofessional, it defeats the point of submitting. When you submit a story, you let it go. If it gets rejected, you go back and take another look—try to figure out what you can polish and edit and cut and trim. But until you know, it’s just sitting there in someone’s inbox (email usually, physical sometimes). Which is a great adrenaline/anxiety rush if you’re looking for one, by the way.
       There is something freeing about sending a piece off. The thrill of trepidation as you wait to see if someone (who is, one supposes, somewhat of an expert) actually thinks it is worthy. A “like” on a blog post could come from anyone, a comment gives you more insight into what someone thought of your work, but people can (and do) lie. If an editor doesn’t like your piece—they won’t lie and tell you it was great and publish it because they feel bad. 
       As you may have guessed, I sent a little piece off about 10 minutes ago and I think my heart-rate is finally returning to normal. I think it becomes far to easy to sit back on our comfortable blog bums and post pieces to the adoring masses (you are an adoring mass, no arguments!). It certainly does for me. Here,there are no consequences. Sure, some of you may hate a piece I write, but (so far) no one has been vocal about it.
       It’s nice to force yourself to stop hanging about on the edge of the cliff looking at the pretty water below and swan dive (or belly flop) off the brink and into the abyss. The rush as you fall is both frightening and exhilarating and you can only hope there are no rocks waiting for you at the bottom.