I tend to experience a macabre sense of the perverse when I watch those people who audition for The Voice or American/Australian Idol thinking they’re so much more talented than they really are.
And sometimes, when I post my writing on my blog, I fear that I might be one of those people in the world of poetry. It’s obvious that I like what I have written, or I wouldn’t post it. But does it leave my friends cringing and thinking, “Oh man. She’s at it again!”?
Most of the people I know are nicer than me, and would most likely never admit that to me. So how can I find out if my work is good enough to be published properly – on paper, in ink, rather than just on my own blog, or if that is a completely vain and unrealistic dream?
The only way is to ask someone who knows.
So, tonight I bit the bullet and submitted one of my poems for publication in a quarterly poetry journal.
I’m both excited and terrified.
I hope they like it.
I hope I picked the right one.
Oh Lord, I hope I’m not making an idiot of myself.
But if I don’t try, I’ll never know. Nothing was ever achieved by chickening out.
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