It’s a special sort of torment, waiting to hear from a publication. I am being optimistic.
The thing is, I know my work is good. That is, all the work that I consider for submission is good. So every rejection is a “They Just Don’t Understand My Genius” Poet Merit Badge.
Every writer gets rejected. We all make our bones that way. It’s part of the nature of our profession. I’m in a place with my work where I don’t feel bad about it; I like what I’m doing and what I’m putting out there, I’m secure with it and how I feel about its quality, and there are several reasons why a publication might reject your work at any time. And if I do feel hard-done-by about it, there’s the “They Just Don’t Understand My Genius” to fall back on.
Still. I really hope they publish something of mine. The publication says their guest editor is reading through the submissions and making her selections and I should hear from her soon. So here I sit. Squirming with impatience.