I don't know about you but i feel like July is a long month. It's like i've been out too much and yet i've been cooped in too long. This mirage is strange because i don't really remember how the doldrums of July blew by extremely fast.
I submitted four fictions this month and only one slipped in. The lucky story was selected as an editor's pick and that made my heart big. The other three were submitted to low-acceptance market, a lesson that only mean i still have a LOT to learn about writing. There are blogs out there that talk about rejections, a topic i can emphatize as interesting and humbling, for what is the value of eloquence if i cannot communicate clearly and subjectively to an editor. I have work to do and i know it.
I anticipate some free hours of brainstorming now that i am done with my painting class. I never realize how a bulk of conceptualization is needed to produce a viable artpiece. It is actually similar to the discipline of writing, sometimes i will start with a phrase then build paragraphs until i have a coherent story. I like writing, maybe because it comes first before painting, and although it may sound propagandistic, i can only validate my development if my pieces will be out there, and that someone publish it not only because it is likeable but most importantly it is relatable.
Note to self: time to get serious Jay.