Eight Days

Eight days.

Eight days left until the deadline for the anthology submission.

The little tale I’m writing is coming along quite nicely. It’s almost a bittersweet tale to be honest. My main characters decided to really throw me a couple curveballs though in where the story was headed, but it’s a good thing I believe. Where they are leading me is bringing in the romance aspect a little bit more.

The problem is I really need to get this finished so I can take some days to edit it before I send it in. I had wanted to have it finished by tomorrow night. I’m thinking there’s only about 2k words left to the story to write, and I’m almost hoping I can finish it off tonight, but there’s a couple other things I need to do as well so we’ll see. I have to have it completed by tomorrow night so I can edit.

A looming deadline should get me going, right? Of course, they always do. Also the fact that the agency noted the sooner you send the submission in the better helps with the motivational panic. But I’m also trying to keep a steady pace so I don’t rush it and the story ends up as total crap. I feel like I’m trying to stand on the middle of a seesaw to keep a balance on finishing it without rushing but being done on time.

The motivational panic is starting to grow a little more though considering I only have eight days left. Eep.

I think the fear that I’m actually doing this is starting to mount a little bit as well. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this. It is freaking nerve wracking.

Half of my brain keeps fantasying about getting an email saying my story was chosen to be in the anthology and what my reaction to that email would be. Which in turn makes me giddy and nervous and excited on the inside. The other half of me is sort of bracing myself for the blow of not getting accepted.

I shouldn’t expect much, I know I shouldn’t. I’m really just an author starting out compared to all these other published and more successful and known authors by at least more than a few friends, but the thought of being picked is sending my mind reeling. The thought of not being picked, however, is kind of crushing the enthusiasm to do this.

Then again, I’m trying to keep in mind something I read not too long ago.

It was an article of someone’s blog I believe that said they aim for 100 rejection letters a year. Sounds strange, right? When you hear the logic and reasoning behind it, it really isn’t.

They aim for 100 because in all those rejection letters, there has to be at least a few acceptance letters. If you aren’t getting those rejection letters, then you aren’t trying, and all your fantasies of receiving the acceptance letter can never come true if you aren’t even trying.

It sounds bittersweet and discouraging in a way, but it has a valid point. At least the rejection letters means you tried.

Sure, you might scream and curse at the world for those first few rejection letters. You might cry and wail you’re giving up writing. You might doubt yourself and believe you’re a horrible writer. But once the initial blow to the heart and passion subsides, you can still say you tried.

And how many people out there anymore can say they at least tried?

That’s what I’m trying to tell myself. That’s what I’m trying to make myself focus on as I write this tale and send it in. At least I tried. Even if it’s a rejection email I get back, I can say I at least tried.

As weird and backwards as this may sound, if it is a rejection letter I get back, I feel like I should keep it somewhere I can see it. As my reminder that there is always another anthology I can try for, always other opportunities out there. I can still write my series and everything else my heart desires to put down on paper.

One rejection doesn’t stop a career trying to get off the ground.

So eight days. Eight days until I can say I took a chance. And however many days until I can either say I did it, or at least I tried.