Little accomplishments help break the long depression

That horrible man we shall call a dentist stuck his needles in my gums and tongue to numb me before he pulled out my tooth. Would you believe he used a Q-tip with some minty stuff to pre-numb me in order for me not to feel the needles? Good gravy. I don’t remember those needles feeling like electric shock in my mouth. Five or more different spots! I handled it well. Called him a son of a bitch and rinsed out my mouth.

The tooth yanking was cake. I think the kid who assisted and held Mr. Thirsty was just out of Mr. Dentist School. 1, 2, 3. All done. I felt no pain but was annoyed of how he stretched out my mouth like I was in some absurd porn trying to fit five cocks inside, you know.

From sitting down to pulling out it took 20 minutes.

The next four hours at home were rough. I’m biting on gauze to stop the bleeding. Side of the face so numb I could bite my tongue off and not even know it. I got my daughter with me who I just picked up off the bus. My father-in-law and son are with me and so are ABA therapist and my daughter’s case specialist. All these people around and I’m in the next room suddenly with the chills, hungry (I hadn’t eaten in 6 hours), and mad drooling with bloody soaked that threatens to choke me if I fall asleep. I’m feeling useless.

My son, who knew this morning about the dentist, interacts with me now having no idea what’s wrong.

Here’s the catch. I’m the guy who takes care of everyone. My wife will have to take charge when she gets home from work. (don’t ask about my father-in-law) By now I should be picking up my wife, making sure my son does his home work, and then making dinner. Earlier I cheated with my daughter’s snack and gave her cereal instead of cutting her up fruit.

Don’t get my wife wrong. She wants and did take care of me and the kids when she came home. But it was hard for her. I had to talk her through it. We’re two different people from two different lives. Tomorrow will be back to normal.

But before that I finished revising and sent out that story to that mag and also sent out two other stories. So that’s 3 markets out. And I received 1 rejection today.

Submitting to magazines got me thinking about what I wrote about yesterday about groups and how I never stick with just one. In my career I’ve been accepted by various kinds of markets.

Strikingly different.

And strikingly scarce.

I lot of what I write doesn’t fit in with a market, with the market’s group. And that’s fine. I don’t want to speak to people who don’t want to listen to me.

But to the ones that do buy what I write, the feeling is awesome.

So the point I’m tying to make?

Don’t worry about rejection.

And write short stories. Even if you are writing a novel. Novels take time but short stories don’t. While you’re doing your big project you can do many short stories and, considering your goals, you can make some scratch or find exposure.

Plus, you can piss off your friends in your writer’s group who are still spending years working their novels going nowhere. Little accomplishments help break the long depression. Also, what you learn from writing the short stories will go into the craft of writing your novel. You can’t lose.

 

 

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