There Goes My Baby

I’m feeling a certain mild tightness in the chest I haven’t felt in quite a while. It’s nervous energy, humming away in evidently the only place it can: my ribcage. In high school and college, I was a much greater worrier than I am of late, I try not to take things as seriously, and as a result don’t have panic attacks nearly as often. Haven’t had one in months.

If this feeling doesn’t go away, I may end up skewering that record. Why, you ask, is his breath a little uneasy? Why is he tightening into a ball of nervous energy?

Answer: I sent out Tuxxer. I emailed it this very morning, to one of the publishers (who will remain nameless) on my list. Everything. All twelve pages, the logo, a synopsis, character guide, and succinct little cover letter. Done, done, done. And ever since I pressed the *Send* key, I’ve been holding my breath, just a little. Can’t help it.

Granted, it’s something every writer has to face. It’s not the first time I’ve submitted something for publication. Last time it was sample chapters of a novel I’d written…. But that’s beside the point. This is it. I’ve worked a very long time to develop my story (both plot-wise and artistically) to the point that it would be suitable and ready to print; but now that it’s here and I’ve actually mailed it… I’m a tiny bit squeamish. I suddenly don’t need coffee this morning, because I’m already wired as it is.

Now, I KNOW that it doesn’t do to hold my breath and just anticipate whatever is going to happen, but I’m asking for a little slack. It’s my first time with this particular project, which has become very dear to me. There are a few different places I can look to submit for printing. I’m not married to the thing, changes can be made if necessary, but still: It’s my baby, and I’ve just sent it out into the world.

Here’s hoping it comes back.