behindtheax

that's done

Yesterday, I left the house with seven of my stories, each concealed in its own brown envelope. I was hurrying a little because I had promised myself I would get them in the mail that day and I was running late and needed stamps. Having just showered, I left the house with wet hair and by the time I got to the end of my street my hair was frozen and hitting the side of my face as I walked. For some odd reason I like this feeling of having frozen hair.
I won’t go to the post office that is closest to me because I find a few of the people who work there half hateful (well maybe that is a little harsh, perhaps they are just unhappy with their work and are unable to smile anymore) and I wish to avoid that because being a little superstitious I fear some of that negativity will get transferred with my stories. So, I always walk the extra distance to the next post office. It is a bit of a jaunt but the pleasant atmosphere is worth the walk. I like walking anyway.
It was such a relief to finally let those envelops, all with their proper postage, slide into the mailbox. I get into this momentum of sending out my stuff but if I pause at all, I will end up letting them sit on my desk for another month or two. So, I am glad they are gone and that I can’t pull them back regardless if they need another rewrite or not. Whew! It is so tough to do though – makes my heart beat fast, makes me anxious – like I’m preparing to bungee jump or something. (Not that I ever bungee jumped before) I keep thinking what is your problem – it isn’t like this is high school English where the teacher comes down the row and drops your 63% book report on your desk and looks at you like you are the sole cause of her misery. These lit magazines get a lot of mail, so I know I will never be their sole cause. And you'll never know unless you try.

posted by mary j. @ 10:31 AM