There’s this weird thing that happens sometimes. It’s called success. For my writing, success is publication. This is the third year I have consistently written, edited, and submitted poetry to various journals. Before 2020, I wrote poetry, but seldom had done much with it. Every now and again I’d enter a competition, but that was it. Cut to 2022, and another two poems have today been accepted for publication. These will make my ninth and tenth poem acceptances since I began submitting in 2020.
There are no guarantees. My rejections outnumber my acceptances. I read things I submitted two years ago and shudder, embarrassed that I thought it was worth a try. But I do keep trying, keep reading, editing, rewriting. I keep noting editorial advice, keep reading lists of where to submit, keep attempting to match themed call outs to my output. I do all of this because I know that while no poem of mine is perfect, any poem is potentially good enough for the editors I’m sending it to.
That’s my point.
My poems only have to be good enough. And the thing is, there’s no other way to really know if my work is good enough except by sending it out there into the world, all polished and shiny with potential.
If you find yourself doubting whether your painting, your dance, your stories, your music, your sculpture, or your poetry is good enough, give up wondering. Be open enough to let what you make be good enough for someone else to decide. It just might be.
The 2022 writing update:
2 thoughts on “Sending out for success”
Well said about submitting, Bec. I use submissions as an incentive for revision, and yes, there’s also the ego satisfaction of seeing my name in print, even if it’s for online publications read mostly by other writers.
The best is the enemy of the good. I don’t know who said it, butI love that quote. For most of my life I’ve been a perfectionist , and perfectionism has prevented me from doing so many things because I wanted my finished product to be the best.
Thanks for dropping by Frank and for quoting Voltaire with the best being the enemy of the good. Perfectionism, I think, is no help to creativity, it’s harshly judgemental, the opposite of playful and what are we doing with words Frank, if we can’t have fun with them?