SEND.It's so easy to do. With one small move of the computer mouse and a click on the button, I submitted my story to Rooglewood Press. There. It's done.
And yet, the torrent of emotions made the movement anything but small. You might as well say that jumping off a cliff is but a tiny flick of the ankles. Everything from terror to relief to excitement to hope blew through my mind so quickly that they were all a blur.
God, give me favor.
It was a whirlwind of emotion that came and passed, leaving me almost numb and breathless in its wake. Now that my story is on its way to the judges, I can sit in semi-peace and process my thoughts.
The terror comes from that perfectionist desire to read it through one more time, hoping that I can somehow make it better. I know my story was not perfect -- I have met writers with considerable more polish than I have yet acquired. Maybe...if I took a little bit more time...I could make my diamond-of-a-tale shine.
The relief comes from letting go of that. My story is good. I know it is. No more will I wrestle over it (at least, not until I win the right to work with their editors). It is done. It is gone.
The excitement comes from trying something new -- something that smacks of the good kind of scary.
The hope comes from a dream...a daydream...that my story will win. More and more, I had to sit back from a reread and smile and say "this could actually win." And I know that any chances it has comes from my Father.
And now? The feeling in my chest is an achy, pleased feeling. It has no name, but I imagine it akin to the feelings of a mother sending a grown child off to his future. It is time for him to go. You do not doubt it. You hope you gave him all he needs to succeed. You expect he will do great things. And, regardless of what anybody says, a little piece of your heart goes with him.
God, give it favor.