I guess the morning is nearly over: it’s 11.50 now and I started work at about 9.15 so I can have a bit of a break. I’ve sent something off: I always feel a bit weak at the knees when I send a piece of my soul out into the universe. It takes so much out of you, preparing these submissions – in fact, submission is a good word for it, since it feels like preparing your soul for God. Only trouble is, God doesn’t answer for a looooooooooooong time, and when he does it’s likely to be ‘not today, thanks.’ Yesterday, today and forever, it seems like nothing changes. But there is no choice except to carry on.
So: today I have sent off a clutch of poems. I’ve called them, collectively, ‘Five-Fingered Faith’ and they include ‘Spike’, a poem on funerals inspired by Emily Dickinson and one called ‘My Guru’. They range from very long to very short, and my hope is that something in there will interest the editors.
I nearly didn’t send them anything. When I read the description of what they’re after my soul plummeted to the depths and I thought, there’s another place I just don’t fit in. But then I saw they were planning an issue on the theme of ‘Faith’ and I thought – hey, just maybe. In any case it doesn’t cost anything and they do allow simultaneous submissions, so what have I got to lose?
Apart from my will to live, of course… but that’s pretty much gone already.
Ho ho.
Here’s where I sent them:
So: once I’ve prepared my manuscript and read and re-read their requirements and made sure I’ve done everything right (and EVERY SINGLE publisher, let me tell you, wants something different) and actually sent the things out into the world to fend for themselves, I’m feeling a bit shaky and in need of a sit-down and some TLC.
So here we are.
How’s your morning been?
Kirk out
Sarada Gray 