JUNE 6, 2018

Submission

The 76th episode of the Word Count Podcast is entitled “A Disaster in the Making” accompanied by an image of the eruption of Japan’s Sakurajima Volcano.

My story inspiration

Richard finally switched to a HOT theme now that winter is hopefully behind us for another year. I stared at this image for a long time, and I began to sweat just from the sight of it!

My story is cobbled from the physical feelings associated with the picture and thoughts of the last time I was near a volcano. As readers of my blog know, I returned from Bali last year right before the eruption of Mt. Agung. You can read about my experience here.

That, in turn, got me thinking about what can cause us to see red.

Out of this, “Submission” was borne.

You can also listen to me reading the story on episode 76 of R.B. Wood’s podcast.

Hope you enjoy.

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I wake up in the mornings feeling cautiously optimistic, even hopeful. Maybe today, I say to myself … maybe today. A robotic smile stretches across my face as I go about my daily routine. It makes things easier to appear happy. I don’t have to explain a smile like I would a scowl. To the best of my ability, I try not to think about you. My interaction with others must appear normal as nobody questions my actions.

And though life doesn’t feel effortless, it doesn’t feel forced either.

I wear my mask well.

By mid-day, my energy plummets and my confidence wanes. I’ve learned not to schedule appointments or important tasks after 1PM. The afternoons turn into a blur of numbing, useless activity, fuelled by a wandering mind. I drift aimlessly until early evening when a different feeling overtakes me.

Rage.

I can’t shake it no matter what I do. I seethe and bubble like an active volcano on high alert. How ridiculous is it that I should compare myself to an unpredictable natural disaster! But that’s how I feel, about to erupt at any given moment.

The volatility of my moods frightens me, makes me wonder if I’ve become undone. Should I even be this angry? I don’t know.

What I do know is anger has a temperature, and it’s red-hot. It buries me like lava and chokes me like smoke. The discomfort pulsates from one part of my body to another. It beads as perspiration around my clavicle. It trickles down my back and over the arc of my buttocks. It glues fabric to my skin. An inferno flows through my veins.

Okay … so I’m being dramatic, but I’m a writer, after all. That’s to be expected.

It’s been nearly six months already, and I haven’t heard a word from you—not one word.

Why haven’t I heard from you?

I say I haven’t heard from you but that’s not entirely true. I did hear from your partner. You two are a team and everyone knows that. She sent me a form letter sometime ago. I’m sure it’s one sent to everyone who submitted to you.

At least I know you have my story.

Still, six months is a long time to wait. Surely, you should be close to making a decision by now.

What the fuck is taking so long?

There’s that rage again.

I’ve gone to your website and reread your submission guidelines at least a hundred times over the last month. It must appear as if I’m stalking you. I mean, it seemed too good to be true when you proposed to help an unknown author with a worthy manuscript. You, the best literary agent in the business, offering your services for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Others in the industry have criticized you as a publicity hound, even called you shameful for poaching established authors from other agencies. I don’t care. Everyone knows representation from you is a quick climb to all the notable bestseller lists.

Your tight submission timeline worked in my favour. I quickly dusted off my manuscript and rewrote several chapters. It was a great first draft. I sent you everything you asked for, checked and re-checked it before hitting the send button.

I can only assume you’ve been inundated with pitches, but I have to believe I made the cut. I have to believe it even though your silence pierces my skin like needles. I imagine electric shock to be less painful.

It’s tempting to email you to check on my status. It is so tempting … but I won’t. I won’t give you a reason to disqualify my work for not following the rules. I will wait, even as I continue to burn.

I will wait.