Although some of my projects are just ideas I like, even those that I send out tend to be things that I simply enjoyed writing, liked the finished result and hoped perhaps someone else would disagree.  But the story I’m working on now is a little different.  From the first moment that I thought it up, I felt protective of it.  There was something about it that I loved, and I felt an urge to live up to what I saw as the potential of the idea.

And, you know, not fall short of the target.  Badabum-tish.

And, you know, not fall short of the target. Badabum-tish.

This is a double-edged sword.  While I’m now working on editing that story, I’m constantly concerned that it may not be all that I think it could be.  I like the story, I like the way it feels, progresses and finishes, and every time I read through it I think I did a good job on it.  But still the doubts remain.  It’s one of those stories that, if I don’t stop myself, I could spend a long time editing and revising, until everything good about it is lost.  Or if everything good is miraculously retained, it could simply sit here, waiting for me to decide it is perfect.

But I’m not convinced I’ll ever achieve perfection with it.  The ending is everything I wanted it to be; the story arc works in exactly the way I’d hoped, and the atmosphere is set the way I wanted.  Only one detail really still needs fixing.  So, again, I’m trying to overcome my personal cynicism about my work and my perfectionistic streak, and allow myself to finish and then actually send out one of these stories for an editor to cast their critical eye over.

Somehow, every time I do this, I feel nervous — as if rejection would, in some way, change the work itself.  I feel stupid for feeling this way sometimes, but I seem to be unable to overcome that sensation.  Oh well.