And by my editor, I mean me, or that neurotic, picky me that’s in here somewhere. Lately, I edit for all of 15-20 minutes before I can’t even stand to look at the page anymore. What I do during that time works out pretty well. But damn! I’ve got stuff to do, let’s go! Normally I can do this stuff at quite a stretch. Not lately.
I think part of my resistance to editing is that I’m officially stressed out. Being stressed and nervous about a number of non-writing things doesn’t create the greatest environment in which to work. Kind of sucks all the air out of the room, really. I can sit and think about submitting to several publications I want to, and imagine which stories in revision will be best for which markets. When it’s time to revise, though, nah. Just a funk. Incidentally, while staring at the wall earlier I discovered that if you say funk loud enough and with enough intensity and a really hard ending ‘k,’ it’s almost as satisfying.
If my editor is a bit constipated, then my writer must have been eating her fiber. After deciding to scale back to the monthly Write 1 Sub 1 in which I’ll only commit to writing one story per month instead of one per week, I wrote 4 stories in 2 weeks. Two were just under 1,000 words, but the other two are about 3,500 and 6,500 words. Funny how that burst happened once I decided to take the pressure off. Two of them made up both stories I wrote in June (one on the 29th and one on the 30th, no less). The other two were in July. Technically, I’m done for the month as far as new writing, and had promised myself I’d be editing recent stories. Interestingly, I have a brand new crop of story ideas that won’t leave me alone and I keep thinking how I should be writing, instead.
I only have 8 submissions out right now, 5 stories and 3 poems, but I have heard from 3 editors. They each let me know that my submission was in the “maybe” pile, with varying levels of enthusiasm about the writing and likeliness that it would be accepted. One poem that’s being held started out as super-short, darkly odd flash fiction. I rewrote it as a poem, and took it from darkly odd to darkly odd and funny (I think). I’ll be extra tickled if that one runs, because it’s gone through so many changes and was submitted to one of my favorite places. It’s nice to hear from editors when they know they’re going to hold something for a while. Those editors are much better than mine. (Yes, that was a whinge.)