Just sent Another Story off into the void to be read [and JUDGED] by total strangers.
I came across this cool new Science Fiction/Fantasy journal, Unstuck — I liked a lot of the excerpts they put up, and their very first issue is coming out in December — all very exciting. Plus they’re based in Austin, which is renowned as the Almost-Athens of the Midwest. Then I poked my clicker-self into their submission section.
Taking submissions. This week.
I’ve been tiptoeing into the realm of writing, and part of that is getting published, and PART OF THAT IS REJECTION.
Delicious cinnamon-scented rejection.
So, I slapped Another Story into a submittable form, and clicked that terrifying button.
I keep visualizing some sort of Norse warrior holding a spear to my throat, and making me kneel and polish his shoes. All while he looks through my story, rolling his eyes and coughing with disgust.
Norse disgust. Which is 40% worse than normal disgust. RAGNAROK-level DISGUST.
The disgust that Odin would have for a mortal who bought him a monocle for his birthday.
In short: Nervous.