Bonus post: Between the Send and the Reply
On being left alone with your own mind after daring to share your creative work.
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There’s a strange hinterland between submitting a piece of creative work and receiving its appraisal. A liminal space, like a ghostly waiting room.
If you’re a creative, you’ll probably know what I mean.
This is the part that I find the hardest.
Not the sexy part where you make the thing - the delicious rush, the crackle of blood and spirit. Not the triumphant bit where it’s sold or picked up or (imagine!) praised. Just...this bit.
The unavoidable wait.
The bit where I’m checking my email every five damn minutes.
It feels like I’ve exposed my very viscera and now I’m sat here trying to pretend that’s totally normal.
And at this point - always at this point - I wonder why in the name of all that is holy do I do this to myself.
I’ve written a one-woman play. I have no idea if it’s any good. It could be terrible. My God, it probably IS terrible. Maybe that’s why I haven’t heard back yet. Maybe the people I’ve sent it to are trying to find the words to tell me just how terrible it is. And on, and on my mind goes.
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