Anticipation

I had three essays out for consideration. One was rejected, so I immediately sent it back out to another publication. I received word that another was also not chosen, but I haven't really had the focus to resend it, so for now it has returned to the back of my mind.

As of this writing, I am waiting on two responses, one is due any day now, and the anticipation is killing me. It is a tremendously personal piece (I know, I'm a memoirist, what isn't personal about my writing?), although the subject matter has a far more universal appeal than I think most editors would like to admit, and I really am not sure if the editor (Dinty W. Moore) will see the appeal. The finalists are set to be announced in September, and the month is waning.

I've spent some time obsessively stalking the publication and my submittable account and learned nothing.

Did I mention that the anticipation is killing me?