After agonizing and revising and hesitating and second-guessing you finally do it, you hit the send button and it’s gone – your words. It can’t be recalled. It can’t be redone. It is away from you now and soon (or not so soon) you will know. There will be a judgment:
We’d like to see more please.
We regret to inform you that your work does not fit our editorial needs right now.
At least you did it. You took action. You moved from the realm of fantasy to an actual goal; from probability to possibility. That pile of stories, essays, and ideas has had some movement clearing some space for new stories, essays, and ideas. You’ve sent a piece of your brain, heart and soul but not all of it.
Maybe you should hesitate before you hit the send button in certain instances. Maybe is such a cautious, namby-pamby word when I know that you should have. The retort, the telling-off, the gossip should have marinated a while longer (at least 24 hours) before you sent it. If you’re like me, you’ll learn not to put some stuff in writing at all. I still make phone calls when I’m angry sometimes but increasingly, if I can’t say what I need to say face-to-face, I let it go. Just thinking about what I could have said in a deliciously direct if not outright mean way is often enough. No need to say it. No audio trails or paper trails left. Sometimes it’s great to interact with people who don’t know exactly what you think.
Who knew a button, a command could have such power?
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