I’ve been part of Insecure Writer’s Support Group on Facebook for a while now. The first Wednesday of every month, many of the members write posts about their insecurities, and so today I join in for the first time. Make sure to check out other writers’ posts here.
This week I did something brave (for me), but it was preceded by a titanic load of insecurity. Thoughts of inadequacy, general suckiness, and self-pity overtook my mind. I almost didn’t go through with it. I closed the tab on my browser. My insecurities were right, who was I to think I was good enough, my writing was ready, or that anyone would want to read my drivel.
Fortunately, I began to think that maybe I am not the best judge of my own writing. I did believe what I was intending to submit was good just a few days ago when I gave it another read through and final edit. Maybe that me was right. And then a realization struck. What’s the worst that could happen?
I’ve been rejected before, this would just be from a more prestigious literary journal. I signed up for this. Writers submit and get rejected, usually more often than accepted. All writers have to start somewhere.
And then I had another thought.
What if someone thinks it’s good and accepts it? Do you want to waste that chance? If they reject it, you can resubmit something else, but you’ll never know if maybe just maybe your work will get accepted.
I opened a new tab and typed the journal’s address. I ended up submitting a short story and several poems.
Editors, if you get a horrible submission or even a great submission (it doesn’t matter which in the end), know this: clicking the submit button is an act of bravery. It requires gargantuan amounts of courage.
And that is something to celebrate.
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