Submission

I sent out a piece of flash fiction yesterday, to 8 different journals, some of whom warn, ''we do not accept simultaneous submissions.'' Uh huh. You know, I used to take that admonition seriously. I used to send my little pieces out to one journal at a time, then wait, patient as a maiden in a fairytale, for 3 to 6 months, until the mailman delivered my own self-addressed envelope back to me, with an anonymous, typewritten rejection inside. Such fun. Kind of like getting dressed up and asking someone to dance, and standing there just shivering with anticipation, awaiting their reply. And that person responding with a scripted ''no'', not even something personalized, just a vague, ''you do not meet my needs,'' or, ''best of luck finding a dance partner elsewhere!" That's a real confidence boost, let me tell you.

I've long since decided that it's much more fun to blitz-submit, and then write condolence notes to the losers. As in, ''Dear Editor of minor, shoestring journal X, I am withdrawing my submission of 'Fantastic Essay Y', as it has been accepted for publication in Prestigious Journal Z'. Best of luck meeting my needs better, next time!"

And what's with this word ''submission'', anyway? It's so craven. So weak. I much prefer the word ''launch''. As in, ''watch out world; I'm launching this baby!'' There's energy to that, and confidence. And, yeah, it might be a NASA launch (meaning, it might not make it into orbit), but it's just so much easier to consider a new launch, rather than a new submission, now isn't it? With that in mind, I've got some more launches to plan.