Many and Varied Obsession #472: Checking Statuses of Things

So I’ve written previously about how I have a couple of stories being held for consideration, one by Apex Magazine (which is fucking crazy) and one by Pseudopod (which is only a little less crazy). Since learning this information, I’ve been obsessed with finding out whether I will be rejected at the next stage.

Pseudopod gives you nothing to follow, which is fine; I have nothing to look at and obsess over other than seeing how many days it took for them to reject other people on The Submission Grinder versus how long I’ve been waiting. So of course, I do that every day.

Apex uses Moksha (a word, by the way, which refers to the release from the cycle of rebirth in Hinduism and Jainism), which is a manuscript submissions site that tells you what number you are in the queue. “Great!” I thought when I first submitted. “Now I can see how close they are to reading mine!” I started around 475 in the queue and over time made my way down.

After I received my “held for consideration email,” the queue moved. I presume that I’m in some other queue, the assistant editor queue, and I am now at #8. I have been at #8 for many days.

“Beck,” you say. “You don’t even know if that number matters anymore now that you’re out of the slush pile.”

You’re right. I know nothing.

“Also,” you say, “those people are fucking busy.”

You’re right about that as well.

“And Beck…” you say. “Checking it every two hours will not change anything. A watched pot never–”

STFU. I just want to know. Even if they say, “Sorry, it’s cute and all, but it’s not right for our magazine,” that’s fine. As I said in my previous post, it’s an honor just to be nominated. But I want to know. I am an obsessive person. I will not feel the relief my skull craves until I know one way or the other. Moksha, release me from the cycle. If I’m rejected, I can send it somewhere else. If I’m moved further along the consideration chain to the Editor, then I’ll have something else to wait and obsess over. OH GOD.

“Beck, stop weeping.”

STFU

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