Another writer posted on a kid-lit chat board that she no longer cared if she got published. Her post made me reflect on my own journey. I’m either lazy or impressed with my post (possibly both) that I thought I would repeat it here.
When I began submitting, I gave myself an allowance: a number of rejections before I should give it up. (It was a ridiculously low number.)
When that number passed, I gave myself a time-frame by which I must have my first acceptance. (It too was absurdly short, in hindsight.)
Then I decided I must get my ‘break’ before I reach a certain age.
When that came and went, I took stock. I realized that I was happiest writing the first draft to a new story. The rest was justification for spending the time.
That settled it- I will throw in the towel when I no longer have these precious moments of happiness and can not see the point. No more numbers, dates, benchmarks.
That was when the first acceptance sneaked up on me. I’ve had many moments of happiness since, getting acquainted with parts of the process I hadn’t had a chance to before.
But no matter, I know THE WRITING IS THE THING.