Since my last post, I've been writing. (Hooray) I've also submitted some pieces to contests and magazines. (Applause) Now, I am waiting and feel the ominous underbelly of gray clouds moving in overhead. The loom of rejection makes the air thick. I dwell on "what ifs".
During these times, I am comforted by the joy I find in the journey of writing. I suppose, published or not, a writer writes. We send our babies out into the world, come what may.
The good news is that becoming more comfortable with rejection means that there have been more submissions to reject, more experiences, more growth. That's how I choose to think of it, anyway.
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