The waiting game…

Currently, I have over fifteen pieces of prose, poetry, and photography out in the world right now, waiting on a decision for publication.

It’s an unnerving feeling. This must be akin to being a mother, sending my newly-eighteen year old children out into the world.

I hope I’ve prepared them. Raised them well. Nurtured them, loved them, made them strong enough to stand on their own two feet. I worry about them. I fear for their failures, hope for their successes. A tiny piece of me – well, fifteen tiny pieces of me – have been sent into the unknown and now all I can do is wait.

I often speak on this blog about how fast time goes for me. Well, it’s just slowed to a crawl. I sit here and refresh my inbox, over and over, waiting for an answer. Is it only 12pm? Now 12:05. Tick, tick, tick.

How are my children doing? Have they impressed you, Mr. Editor? Are you disappointed in their flaws? Are you in awe of their innocence? Disturbed by their darkness? Each of my children is so different, uniquely their own identity, sometimes I am unable to believe that we’re related.

Did I really produce this? Are these really my thoughts, come alive? Especially when I produce a piece so dark, so mysterious, so alien to my own belief system – I hardly can believe that the words are my own. I love my children equally, even when I doubt their maternal origins. Perhaps this is the father’s influence?

Who is the father of my writing? Why, my subconscious, of course. He churns inside me, lugubrious and tempermental. Happy one moment, miserable the next. My conscious mind, bubbly and optimistic, normally silences him – but sometimes he slips through. His influence bleeds into my words and I stand shocked, admiring the strength of his features in my children after they are born onto the page. I see more of him in their faces than I see myself, and it both saddens and thrills me. Ah, the beauty of the blend!

Yes, fifteen pieces of my soul are out in the world right now. All I can do is wait, pray, and wish for their uniqueness to stand out among the masses, their light to shine among the plethora of candles burning brightly.

To my children’s success,

~ Victoria Elizabeth Ann


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