There is a period known to all writers, a time fraught with peril, frustration, hope, and depression - the dreaded post-submission waiting period, during which one goes from the heights of elation to the depths of depression. In between submission and response the disposition of your manuscript exists in a state of non-resolution, like the cat in the box. Eventually, you debate whether the certainty of rejection will outweigh the uncertainty of acceptance?
After spending days, weeks, months, and sometimes years in crafting your piece to perfection, writing at the top of your ability, resolving all faults, smoothing the phrasing, and styling the piece to be more akin to prose poetry than rude narrative. Finally you do the last picky edit, package the result and send it forth to some faceless editor or worse, a poorly rewarded slush reader. Surely, you think, the recipient will be floored by your effort and eager to beg permission to publish it so the world may enjoy your delightful writing.
Days go by. Time enough for someone to have embraced it, you think. But there is no word. Oh God, what if it got lost in the mail/queue? Should you inquire? No, give them some more time.
But the days drag by and with each day's completion you think of more dire reasons why there has been no word. Perhaps it is being rejected, destined for the trash heap of literary failures. Maybe it has some fatal flaw - should you have read it one more time? Yes, there were some things you should have thought of, things that occurred to you AFTER you sent it. Perhaps you should rework the draft one more time - juice it up a little, play down this and promote that?
Eventually, the anticipation will end, as it must, when the box is opened.
After spending days, weeks, months, and sometimes years in crafting your piece to perfection, writing at the top of your ability, resolving all faults, smoothing the phrasing, and styling the piece to be more akin to prose poetry than rude narrative. Finally you do the last picky edit, package the result and send it forth to some faceless editor or worse, a poorly rewarded slush reader. Surely, you think, the recipient will be floored by your effort and eager to beg permission to publish it so the world may enjoy your delightful writing.
Days go by. Time enough for someone to have embraced it, you think. But there is no word. Oh God, what if it got lost in the mail/queue? Should you inquire? No, give them some more time.
But the days drag by and with each day's completion you think of more dire reasons why there has been no word. Perhaps it is being rejected, destined for the trash heap of literary failures. Maybe it has some fatal flaw - should you have read it one more time? Yes, there were some things you should have thought of, things that occurred to you AFTER you sent it. Perhaps you should rework the draft one more time - juice it up a little, play down this and promote that?
Eventually, the anticipation will end, as it must, when the box is opened.
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