What It Feels Like To Get Published – Part I
Herein lies the third instalment of blogs I’m writing about being a writer. The first, what it feels like to have a writing idea; the second, what it feels like to finish a writing project; and now, what it feels like to get published.
This is a LONG post that is so long, I’ve split it in two! But this one is long on it’s own. Just a heads up. 
My first poem that was published was a piece entitled ‘Spring’, and it was published in The Windsor Star newspaper (remember those?). I won third place in their annual spring poetry contest. I was twelve years old.
I remember feeling scared to submit, but I did it anyway. I remember hand-writing the piece on a paper and snail-mailing it in to The Windsor Star. I remember the constant pull of wonder if I would place or be published at all, like extra strands of ligaments in my legs…constantly twitching (these literary ligaments still exist today!). I remember feeling the weight of the piece ‘being out there in the world’ outside of me, still, actually, very much in my body, as I awaited the results of someone’s judgements.
Submitting something you’ve written is a mighty feat. In and of itself, the ‘act’ of releasing the piece into the eyes, heart, mind and body of another person to judge takes courage. This is a fact that I stand by wholeheartedly.
It takes courage to ‘submit’ – which, in the true sense of the word’s meaning – is a surrendering to the release of the thing, and a conscious awareness of what it is to put that thing in someone else’s control/power/judgement, and await the subsequent consequences of that judgement.
I wanted to win the poetry writing contest I’d submitted to. I wanted to place first. I remember feeling that rush of heated confidence that the writing was good enough to take the win…but it was fleeting. As time passed, that confidence melted away and slipped out my toes, and the swell of insecurity swooped into my mind like a flock of hungry vultures.
Sometimes what happens after I submit a piece, (then and now) after the courage it takes to do the submitting subsides, melts, disappears, I experience a numbing. Voices in my head convince me that the piece is ‘not good’ and ‘don’t have any expectations’ and ‘forget about it’…I think it’s a process I’ve built into my creative life so to soften the blow when a rejection comes in.
I can fill an entire house with rejections, forget about a wall.
So, my body has, over the decades of submitting, created some habits to help deal with the outcomes of the releases of my writing into the hands of those who will publish it or not. I feel heat, anxiety, nausea, excitement, hope, yearning and desperation when I submit something I’ve written, and/or when I post it on my blog.
The waiting for the results of the submission can be excruciating. When I was twelve, it was pretty excruciating. And then, I received a letter in the mail with a positive response! An acceptance of the piece with a third place prize, publication of the poem in The Windsor Star, AND I was invited to an awards ceremony at the Windsor Public Library, main branch. That gorgeous building bathed in so many shades of brown, where I’d gone up the down escalators, watched puppet shows, and frolicked about in the joy of library visits, was like a church to me. It was amazing to get to go there to receive an award for my first published piece…it made it more ‘real’ or ‘professional’ that there was a ceremony in a location I revered.
But how did it feel? Well, I was terrified to attend the award ceremony. I was asked if I would read my piece, to which I responded in the affirmative, even though I was terrified. And, I felt a pang (or five) of sadness that I didn’t win first prize. I was curious about who’d won, and I wanted to hear their pieces…to compare. Because, goddess, the Compare Monster had taken residence in my spine already.
I felt joy but it was conditional. Muted. A kind-of cautious mistress who kept grabbing at her chin with worry because she didn’t truly feel like it was real, like she belonged. Not an imposter, as I’ve heard many creatives use a way to explain their feelings about their work, but someone who was invited to the party but didn’t really know how to ‘be’ at the party. I knew in my head that it was an achievement to win third place, to get my writing published in a newspaper. I knew my mom was proud because she said so. I knew my teachers were excited, because they said so…but it was like…despite the lived reality of what I was experiencing, the penetration of the success in my body…was limited. The feeling of ‘joy’ in my heart was there but…cautious. It quickly became layered with voices of (nasty? hopeful? afraid? elated?) parts of me that measured this brand new, inaugural success of publication, tallied it as not-quite-a-win, and pressured my creativity to ‘make’ more and see if I could have ‘real’ success as a first-place winner.
As I write this, I feel both…embarrassed and awed at what I’m uncovering/discovering when I ask myself what it ‘feels’ like to be published. There are so many external and internal contexts to consider in order to answer it fully!
The meaning of ‘published, I believe, needs to be acknowledged and agreed upon in order to help with the how-it-feels explanation.
What does ‘published’ actually mean?If the process is: a) write something b) submit it to 1) a traditional form of publication, ie: magazine, journal, news outlet, traditional publisher, c) get accepted, d) the piece is then ‘published’ – this is one scenario.
I didn’t get paid when my poem was published in the newspaper, but it was published in the newspaper, so it ‘counted’. How we label what is published, where it is published, and whether or not we get paid if it gets published is a slippery snakes-and-ladders kinda landscape currently.
If the process is a) write something b) submit it to 2) a digital format publication (examples: a blog, an on-line community/website, etc.), c) get accepted, d) the piece is ‘published’ in a form that may or may not be ‘deemed’ a traditional place recognized for publication, and therefore ‘less’ than said ‘traditional’ places for publication. Is this the same ‘published’ meaning? It begins to get very complicated…very hairy in these waters. Who decides what is ‘professional’? Does one have to be paid in order for their work to be ‘professional’? What about how long you’ve been doing the art? How many places have shared/published/supported the work? Who decides what is ‘traditional’ or not? And why?
But wait, there is still another process to acknowledge: 3) self-publication. You still a) write something – but everything is different after this. There is no ‘submitting’. There is editing (Please, let there be editing!), and everything else you do on your own (or hire it out). You pay for it, you get the result of a digital or hard-copy piece of writing or both. You write a poem, you ‘publish’ it on your blog. People read it. The ‘actions’ are the same…even the people involved in the process could be the same (ex. you hire a freelance editor to edit your book, and she also edits for a traditional publisher), but the…gravitas/prestige…or the measured levels of success…are different. It can feel like it’s better to be traditionally published because of its place in the history of measuring a writer’s ‘success’ in this way.
For me, how it ‘feels’ to get a poem accepted into a Canadian literary magazine like ARC Poetry or Geist is different than how it feels to publish a poem on my blog. In both cases, the writing happens, there is no money received (sometimes – even this gets wishy-washy as some traditional publications pay, whilst others don’t; and some blogs like those on Substack or Patreon or even personal websites can generate money for the writer…ahem, does this ‘count’ as ‘professional’ if you ‘buy a writer a coffee’/donate/pay for their blog?); and the outcome of people reading the poem happens. One could argue that both instances here equal ‘publication’. But the socially agreed upon level of achievement is different.
All this said, if a self-published book or poem makes money, like, a lot of money, the traditional book publishers pay attention, and the writer can ladder-up into this realm of publishing. Money also plays a role in this ‘what it feels like to get published’ world I’m writing about. But…let’s wait on this part…
Another example of what ‘published’ means is evident in the granting system. To apply for most (if not all!) writing grants, you need to show that you’ve been a) paid for the work that’s been published, and/or b) have had a book traditionally published, and/or c) have had a form of the writing published as in spoken word poetry, and/or d) if you’ve self-published, I believe, a certain amount of printed books/e-sales have to have been achieved in order to ‘show’ success. There are designated ways that a writer must ‘show’ her publication history. These…definitions of ‘published’, I believe, affect the way it feels when something gets published. If you can’t apply for grant with the writing you’ve published in the ways you’ve published it that doesn’t match the eligibility guidelines, does that make the writing ‘less’?
When I joined the League of Canadian Poets and The Writers’ Union of Canada ten-plus years ago, self-published authors were not recognized as ‘published’ writers. However, this is changed now, with eligibility guidelines shifting to embrace the current reality of the publishing industry and social media. Still, sometimes it can feel like applying for a bank loan: you have to show that you have a chunk of money saved before they give you the loan…but if you had the money saved, you wouldn’t necessarily need the loan at all. Snakes-and-ladders, my friends.
Oof. You’ve made it this far! Thank you! I think that’s more than enough for today! Stay tuned for Part II!
Here’s a bit of a poem I wrote in 2021…it kinda speaks to how it feels to be rejected…to be someone who desires to be published…and who is deciphering in her head and heart that actually means…and feels like…
