Putting My Heart Out There Again

Have you ever had that dream where you go to high school, and you say hi to your friends but they’re all laughing hysterically, so you look down and realize you completely forgot to get dressed?

Or that dream where you go to work, and  you say hi to your coworkers but they’re all laughing hysterically, so you look down and realize you completely forgot to get dressed?

Or that dream where you go up on stage, ready to show what you can do, and you’re excited, but everyone in the audience is laughing hysterically, so you look down and—realize you completely forgot to get dressed?

In waking life, this doesn’t happen. Unless you’re a writer looking to get published. Then this dream is real. All the time.

You give your manuscript to your beta readers, and you may as well have stripped down in front of them.

You send your query to agents, and you may as well have stripped down in front of them.

You send a proposal to editors, and you may as well have stripped down in front of them.

Your words, your soul, your heart, all over the page for everyone to see. It’s nerve-wracking and ego-cracking.

I’ve been out of the game for a few years, and I liked to think I’d grown a thicker skin, a stronger resistance to rejection, a more pragmatic and less emotional way of releasing my stories into the wild for criticism or acceptance. Nope. I have not.

It’s as scary now as it’s ever been. I am a little more confident of my abilities now, and I’m definitely a better writer now, but the fear and doubts and negative self-talk is still there.

And I’m really sorry if you read this far hoping for one, but I don’t have an answer. I don’t know how to make writing and submitting less scary or less hurtful. I only know that now I’m a little older and I don’t have time for the should-have-dones. I don’t allow the fear to create hesitation. I have to send this project to this agent. I have to send that project to that agent. I have to find my place in the publishing game. Yes, I’m opening myself up to rejection and criticism, but if I don’t, I won’t be open for acceptance and praise … and readers.

What’s the saying? No risk, no reward. I could be disappointed, but I have to be willing to be disappointed to be delighted and thrilled. So I write another hopeful query letter … and wait.

I just looked down, and I’m wearing a T-shirt and jeans. At least, there’s that.