Some Days I Feel Like a Writer!

Other Days, Imposter Syndrome Wins

The journey through a writer’s life, similar to the journey of healing and recovery, is not a straight line.  Although I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil, I never put much effort into having my work published.  This is rather surprising since most of my employment involved some component of writing, whether it was ad copy, boring as paste whitepapers, testimony as an “expert witness,” or drafting policies and procedures.  Wherever I worked, I became the default person when something required documentation.  The consensus from my colleagues was that I could write better than most.

Then I tried submitting to litmags.  As a recovering corporate nerd, I keep a spreadsheet of my submissions and calculate statistics as well as generate pie charts of my publication success.  For the calendar year 2023, I began slowly and sent a total of 70 submissions.  Of those, I received five acceptances, which works out to a 7% acceptance rate.  Based on information from other writers, that’s not bad.

Year two is moving along at a faster rate.  As of today, June 11, I have sent 105 submissions.  Four of those have been accepted, and fifty submissions are still in a pending status, keeping me steady at a 7% acceptance rate for current responses.  I had hoped to improve upon last year’s pace, but it’s only the middle of the year.  There are fifty potential “yeses” out there still.

The emotions involved in those responses defy the rational approach I’ve tried to embrace.  Last week, I sat down at my writing desk with the whole day blocked out for work.  I sent pitches to several magazines, submitted poetry to a couple litmags, and made a voice recording for one of my poems that will be published soon.  I felt like a writer!  Get this girl an agent!

Fast forward a few days, and those magazine pitches were passed up by editors, a handful of those pending litmag submissions came back as rejections, and I had a few sick days.  I was feeling pretty low.  No new creative ideas visited me like my muse thought I might be contagious, and my existing work sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher when I tried to read it aloud.  Even poetry by my favorite writers fell flat.  Words had lost their flavor.

My mood needed a reset button, pronto!  I peeled myself off the couch and took the dogs for a walk. I admired the flowers in our garden. When the rain finally stopped and the sun smiled upon the world, I opened the sunroof on the car, hit the drive through for a coffee drink, and drove around with the music turned up to boost my mood.  (Have you heard the new Eminem track “Houdini”?  Pure genius!)

After some sunshine, caffeine, and adrenaline, I’m ready to roll up my sleeves and get back to the grind.  These words aren’t going to write themselves! 

What is your favorite way to get out of a funk? Tell me in the comments!