On Monday of this week, I finally submitted my short story, Heavy Things.
I was feeling pretty impressed with myself for achieving a couple milestones. After all, I’d thought for the longest time that I couldn’t write a short story, let alone a competent one. It was also a significant moment to throw my hat in the ring in something resembling a professional way. The process of pre-editing for submission was a fun, if somewhat OCD game, and also, I felt, illustrated some philosophical truths, and I was all set to create an uplifting entry here as a way of crystallizing all that stuff for myself.
And then after submitting my story, I considered the writing I did in Heavy Things, and the way my obsessive focus on the pre-editing process changed things…how this change is starting to creep into my novel, and something else happened.
I saw that, once all my idiosyncrasies which are not “good writing” were stripped away, I look pretty much like everyone else.
And it all looks pretty meaningless right now. Cognitive dissonance is a bitch.