Too many tabs

 I have too many tabs open: American Eagle, Canva, author website inspirations, instagram and a pathetic little google search on “how to find a literary agent”.  It always rolls back to that. I have no idea what i’m doing. This year will be the first year of my life that i have actively been trying to get work published. There i am sitting thinking how proud i should be, only to come across other authors who are publishing short stories like revolving sex partners and sending in narrative articles about feminism every 5 minutes; yet here i am proud of my one sad little submission to a magazine.

 

 I feel like a small lost child in a supermarket, adults passing me by like i’m invisible and hurrying to the shortest check out line. Everybody knows where they’re going. I have no idea. I’ve spent almost the entirety of my first decade in America doing a lot of different things, so it’s daunting to have reached the point where i feel i must now focus on the deal at hand. The writing. I’ve been running from writing for many years. I get good ideas and i push them away. I ignore my hundreds of notebooks of ideas from before time began, instead sitting watching bloody Love Island and thinking how incredibly sad it is that i’m frying my brain on such filth.

 

Now that i have made the leap to finally indulge my poor literary chains it’s no wonder that i am entirely overwhelmed. Thousands of stories are intertwined and knotted together, making monkey fists and cussing at me. I’m not entirely sure where to begin. I’m currently working on a submission for a short story competition, i have a creative nonfiction essay that i’m also prepping and a few others scattered about around my desk. My first novel is out somewhere waiting to be read; the stress and embarrassment of that is entirely horrible, several times i’ve been tempted to pull it and hide it in a cave somewhere. Honestly. No one tells you about the utter SHAME of sending out your work, even if it’s not a fear of rejection but a repulsive reaction to the mere act of  “trying”.

 

Nevertheless — onwards and onwards until the hill begins. I’m still proud of finishing my book this year and finally plucking up the courage to try to get something published — after having had work stolen in the past thats a pretty big step. I think the business of submissions will come along once i get the hang of it and find my footing, but i’ll continue to wonder about my first novel and be slightly disgusted by it haha. For now i’ll try to shed the extra 30lbs covid inflicted upon me, by forcing me to eat regrettably too much and sucking down Dr.Pepper like it was some horse piss elixir. Holy hell i gotta curb that damn sugar addiction and replace it with something.

 

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