So, I’m doing the obvious but arguably masochistic thing tonight: working on submissions.
I want to get to where I’m submitting to five places each month but it’s hard because I’m picky. I watch people carefully on Twitter and submit to places intentionally, tending to wait awhile after rejections.
So tonight I’m trying to work up a submission that doesn’t include anything currently pending, this mag is not interested in simultaneous subs. I start digging for something I can edit and I realize I’ve always had two primary notes: terrible longing and making people up to want because I can’t deal with real people. I am the ongoing tragedy of my own authorship.
Anyway, the good thing about having only a few chords in your repertoire is that you know the way everything builds. So, it’s back to digging for me.