Getting Published

Writing, for me, is a practice — a creative-spiritual practice. It's good for my soul and helps to keep me on an even keel. I go in and out of the desire to be published, to gain more recognition as a writer in my own right (rather than merely as "that woman who runs the Writing Salon").

Ten years ago I was much more concerned about being published, so I sent out more submissions (not many, but way more than I do now [I haven't sent anything out in, oh, probably three or four years], and my number of acceptances relative to the number of submissions was actually quite good. You'd think that would have spurred me on to send out even more submissions. But it didn't. Once I'd proven to myself that I could do it if I tried, my interest waned. Weird.

I'm not proud of this, because one thing I have often said to my shy, lazy, or overly modest students who are dragging their feet about submitting their work is that it's SELFISH to horde your writings and never share them with anyone. To submit your work (if you think it's good work) and get it published is an act of generosity. False modesty is tiresome and annoying.

Why haven't I taken my own advice? Hmmm, seems like no matter how long you've been writing, questions such as this one continue to arise.

What I am realizing more and more every day is that there are so many more questions than answers!  Whether the topic is "my life as a writer" or "my battle with breast cancer" or "learning to cook after all these years of eating Lean Cuisines," what's of primary importance are your questions. The answers are secondary, because the answers are always changing. But the questions — the searching — are what make life so interesting.