There’s something about a writing deadline that gives you sudden, sharp focus. I think it’s the knowledge that you have a limited number of days, hours, and minutes to make the words as perfect as they can be.
These deadlines come in all shapes and sizes. It might be your editor waiting for the text; it could be your own self-inflicted timeline — you need to finish it so you can move on to the next thing on your list.
But perhaps there’s nothing like the deadline of a submission — the knowing that the end is just the beginning.
Once your words have been polished, the format crafted to perfection — and the fees paid — you upload your file and hit the submission button.
Maybe you are hoping your story will be selected by a magazine. Maybe you are querying an agent. Perhaps you are submitting to a publisher, or to an award you hope to be longlisted for.
That’s why the moment your finger taps it, or your mouse clicks it, the submit button is just a page-turner. A new chapter is about to begin. It’s called the wait and it’s not great. It kind of reminds me of watching a TV series where you have to wait a whole week for the new episode to drop.
And when the moment finally arrives, excitement or disappointment turn out to be another page-turner. If things go your way, you’ll be happy — for a while — until the itchiness start again. If you get a rejection — which tends to happen 99% of the time — you’ll feel down. It’s normal. It may last hours, days, or week. In the end, you’ll go back to writing.
Putting pen to paper, or tapping the keyboard to create bits, is a constant. A continuous enterprise made possible by the discipline of suffering.
Almost all is subjective. You just have to keep going.
David Cuen 
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