A few weeks ago, I submitted a column, where I gave advice to rising high school seniors, to my local paper. I sent the email around eight at night and received a follow-up email the next day asking for information about me. I’d actually forgotten all about it with the chaos of getting ready for dog training school taking up my attention.
Then, early this week, I couldn’t fall asleep. My mind raced as I lay in bed before popping over to the question of whether or not the column was actually published. So I pulled out my iPhone, and I searched my name on the paper’s website.
The first result was my column. (Click here to read it.)
Excitement didn’t make me giddy enough to do laps around the building or inspire me to type out another column. I emailed the link to my parents before tucking the phone back beneath the corner of my pillow. The fireworks I’d half expected to go off around me, didn’t. Maybe I already knew on some level that the paper would publish it on their website. After all, the online editor probably doesn’t email everyone who submits something and request a short bio.
This feels like more of a letdown than it probably should. Maybe next time, when I see the words in ink on actual paper, then I’ll jump up out of my chair and do a happy dance. That means I need to keep writing.
But for the moment, at least I can look forward to writing in my query and pitch letters: yes, I am published.