Dangerous Occupations

Well, yesterday I proved how really well I can fool myself!

I pulled out of the driveway and as I drove past my house glanced back and saw that the mail had come.  There was what looked like a slim, large envelope sticking out.

Oh, oh.

I put on the brakes.  Peered at the box.  I was already running late to the Chiro.  Should I jump out and see if that was my response from Harlequin?  I look at the watch, at the mailbox, at the watch… finally I sigh and lift my foot off the brake.  I’d already moved the appointment once that day because I was trying to do too much…I just needed to go and get on with it. Besides, if that was the envelope from Harlequin, it couldn’t have been good news. I could be wrong but why would they send back the 3 chapters if they were requesting more?

I told myself, So what? If it is a rejection, I’ll just keep on writing. I’ll concentrate on my paranormals for a while and just take all that I’ve learned once again and work at it some more. No big deal. I write because I love to write. Yeah, sure I want to get published but…I write because I write. And so what if they didn’t like this story…that it’s one that’s been in my heart for years, that of all I’ve set free to the world, this one matters in a whole different way because of that, that I’d not even been sure I’d wanted to risk that rejection because of that–I like it.  It was mine.  Letting it out changed that.  I love all my stories, each for themselves but this one…well, it’d just always been for me.  Now someone might be telling me it wasn’t to their liking…Oh man, what had I done???

By the time I was talking to the gals at the doc’s, my stomach was in turmoil. I was quite literally sick with trepidation that what I’d glimpsed sticking out of my mailbox was yet another rejection and by dang, I just didn’t want to see it.

When they left me in the little room getting therapy I called home and asked my son to get the mail. The results?

Nothing was from Harlequin.

Imagine that.

I laughed. I groaned. I shook my head. I realized…I’m such a big fat liar. I have answered to everyone that has asked, “It’s no big deal if I get rejected…I’ll just keep writing and one day, I will get published. Until then, what is, is.” And the truth was, I’d always examine my thoughts and feelings when I’d say this…I believed myself that I would be fine with a rejection. I felt fine with it. No, I’m not saying I would have been happy or not disappointed but I truly thought I’d not be be…sick over it.

Hah, hah, what a laugh! I was quite literally sick with worry over what was in that mailbox! For someone who is always so careful on how things are phrased, said or interpreted, even to myself, this discovery was quite a shock.  sigh, so yep, I’ve admitted it…I’m anxious and watching the mail.

LOL I truly feel sorry for the mailman. The poor man is oblivious to the dangers of delivering the ‘wrong’ type of mail to my house. Talk about dangerous occupations.