So...I'm flummoxed. I have a story ready to send out (cue the clouds parting, the reveille, the blinding sun), but I don't know where to send it. Is there any point in sending it to my dream markets, all of which receive thousands of manuscripts every cycle, take 400 years to respond, and frown on simultaneous submissions? Because what's the point of that, really? Isn't the definition of madness doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result? According to that definition, I'm mad. The madwoman in the loft (paging Gilbert & Gubar!). In other words, my dream markets should be called "in-your-frickin'-dreams" markets.
It's not the inevitable rejections that bother me; I'm used to them, and I know as well as anyone that hearing, "Um, not even close," is just part of the process. So if I'm not whining about rejection, what am I whining about? I don't even know. Maybe I'm whining about not being sure where my writing belongs and about the realization that maybe it doesn't belong anywhere. That's not necessarily a bad thing; it just requires a mental adjustment.
Well, I guess while I'm figuring all this out, I'll send the damn thing on its way. Because that's what madwomen in lofts SHOULD do.