Jumping the Gun

 

Every year I do this. The moment I step outside on a decent spring day, I begin to work in the yard.

“This year it’ll be different.” I say. “I can get a jump on the planting season and be harvesting tomatoes by the Fourth of July.”

That’s when I start cleaning up the old beds and get the seedlings started inside. Sure, it still snows every once in a while, and the car windows are coated in frost every morning. But I got a plan!

And every year my first set of seedlings grow leggy and die. Anything planted early outside also bites the dust. Eventually, I wait until Memorial Day to go to the Farmers Market and buy a few dozen plants. It doesn’t matter that by buying those plants I’m still jumping the gun because by the end of the season the plants I grow from seed are as big and productive as the ones I bought.

I could wait the whole month of April and most of May to get started. I’d probably have more energy to get through the season if I didn’t burn out by starting two months sooner. But I know myself too well. Cabin Fever drives me to act against my better judgment.

I will jump the gun.

I will plant and kill again.

I can’t help it.

I’m a gardener.

Just like I can’t help but to send my stories to publications I know will reject me. I see an ‘Open for Submissions’ link and I can’t help myself. I have to send my Steampunk Horror story to a mag that publishes nothing but Lesbian Romance. Oh, and that Literary zine that focuses on 18th Century Naval battles wouldn’t mind reading my Dystopian YA Epic. They are just asking for it, you know.

Yeah, I could look over their website, read the stories they publish, but who has the time? Submissions close at the end of the month, I can’t spare an hour to get to know what they like. And don’t get me started on what kind of format they want submissions to come in. The crybabies.

But then, when the right story goes to the right publisher my chances of success goes way up. I even get published in a print publication. If only I could remember this the next time I finish a story and try to plant it in the first open spot I see. Writing Fever drives me to act against my better judgment.

I will jump the gun.

I will submit and get rejected again.

I can’t help it.

I’m a writer.

 

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