The Art of Submission: A Confession

Forgive me, She Writers, for I have sinned.

It has been three months since my last submission. And, believe me, the hypocrisy of this—the fact that I haven't submitted my work in months and yet continue to give submission advice through this platform—is not lost on me. Every week I've scrambled, hours before my deadline, to think of something—anything—to share with you all about the process. Something I've learned, something I'm thinking about, something I'd like to be doing better. 

What are my reasons? Plenty. Because I haven't finished a new story in months. Because my old stories feel old and woven tightly with the doubt that comes from continuously being rejected. Because this is hard. Because I often question the legitimacy of my changes in this world without connections or ten thousand Twitter followers. Because I recently discovered that a writer I knew distantly and who won a Pushcart was in a relationship with one of the judges and it has made me stop. It has made me wonder, "What is this world I am submitting to?" Because all of this makes me realize the longstanding and patriarchal traditions of this publishing world, and because I am sick of submitting myself to it. Because I am scared that I am not good enough. Because I am scared that, even if I were, being good enough would not be enough.


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