There’s no way I’m not going to not be tired today. That’s what less than four hours of sleep does to a person.
Impossibly, it was not because of performance anxiety over the two hour training session I’m supposed to conduct today with a group of folks I’ve never met before. Incredibly I could not fall asleep in the first place, which has rarely been my problem. Impractical as it is, my issue was caused by my mind wandering around poetry.
I was reading a lot of poetry before going to bed. Add that to the growing list of things I can’t do in the hour before going to bed. 🤷♀️
Thankfully that was all it was and had nothing to do with the results of the 3-D mammogram and breast ultrasound that occurred hours earlier. That mess had already been discussed and swept away. Thank the Universe, that topic was open and shut quickly. Grateful today to be lamenting sleep woes in classic SugarCookie broken record repetition style instead of thinking about how my life will never be the same.
Last night I had to send out lots of declines for the lit mag. I don’t like that part of my new gig. Turns out I dislike being the bearer of bad news more than I dislike receiving it. I’ve got declines rolling back to me now quite regularly and I open those emails and just kind of shrug. I update the spreadsheet I’m using to keep track of my submissions like it’s just a business transaction. I don’t feel the sting of rejection and I wonder why not. It’s curious.
What’s even stranger than that is my reaction to instances I’ve opened my email and found an acceptance. “Congratulations,” they say. We want your words.
This from my most recent acceptance letter.. “What powerful pieces! We particularly loved ‘Mining the Gap’ and are thrilled to say that we are going to publish it…”
This makes me feel all warm inside for a blink or two and then my heart returns to its typical rhythm. Not quite as subtle as a shrug but also not the spinning on dance floors one might expect. Why is that?
Is there something wrong with me? Do I disbelieve what I read? Am I incapable of being moved? Or do I not trust the sources? “Powerful?” Really? No way.
Maybe it’s indifference because I intend to keep submitting my poems regardless of the outcome. Perhaps it’s similar to writing them in the first place. The feeling I get from writing is pretty satisfying. Then really working whatever that is over and over until it feels finished is next level. I get excited. I turn the music up and dance a jig in my underwear in the kitchen all by myself. I love it when I read one of my beautiful babies and get that same rush and tingle.
This morning I was at it early, revising a poem to prepare it for the world at large. When I finished and read it through without stopping, I welled up with tears. I mean, the topics of my 20’s and 30’s are old news. How incredible is it that I can still get choked up like that? That’s the stuff.
Perhaps publishing is not the goal, but part of the motivation to revise? Perhaps I get enough satisfaction from self-publishing and don’t really need more? Perhaps these are the things I tell myself to steel my mind— to prepare for all the inevitable rejection.
In any case, here’s the latest SugarCookie poem which is currently on display at wonderful online publication called Prometheus Dreaming (Poetry Volume 2, Issue 2.5): Mining the Gap
I’m grateful to this publication for wanting my words and including them among so many other wonderful poems I’ve read there.
That’s gonna be it for today folks. Thanks for playing along. (Time to go take a nap now – ha!)
Peace and Love,