Winter and spring were very victorious times for me. I sold all kinds of stories and got into all kinds of MFA programs. Triumph is a very short-lived emotion. It feels very good for a day or a week and then it fades as if it never existed. But the point is that feels very good.
Summer was a bit more quiescent, but the lack of triumph was masked by all the angst and agony associated with writing my novel and then abandoning my novel and then writing the other novel and then moving and preparing for the program to start.
But now I feel ready for some more triumph. During odd moments, I find myself casting about for things to apply to or places to submit to. I haven’t fallen back into the trap of checking Duotrope obsessively, but I am uncomfortably aware all the stories that are out at markets for longer than usual. I just feel like I’m in a state of expectancy. I feel like it’s time.
Not for a big triumph, you know. I’m not expecting a novel deal or something. But selling a story? Yes, I do kind of expect that.
This is clearly not an optimal state of affairs, because I’m pretty sure the universe has no idea that I’m due for a triumph. Nor do I want to do anything differently in order to pursue such a triumph. I feel as if my life is fairly well-organized as it is. I’m writing and revising and submitting. Nor is it ever wise to feel like you’re owed some validation by strangers.
Still, the expectancy exists. It is difficult to dispel, and I am not really trying to do so. It’s a fairly pleasant emotion. There’s nothing anxious or obsessive about it, because there’s no element of uncertainty in it. I feel like the triumph is definitely coming…so I can afford to wait for a bit.
Of course, if the triumph is slow to get here, then I’m sure the emotion will mutate into something that I have to deal with. But…that’s a problem for another day (or maybe never?)