When a cockroach runs across the bathroom floor, do not think you are a gymnast on the parallel bars. The towel rack will come out of the wall, anchors and all, leaving four holes and torn wallpaper. You will hit the ground shoulder first. The stool you sit on while you fix your hair will fall on you. Bits of drywall will fall on you and coat the floor. You will have bruises on your shin, a pulled muscle in your thigh, a terrific bruise on your lower back, a bruise on your elbow, a pulled muscle from your elbow to your shoulder, tiny cuts on your fingers, a bruise on the back of your neck, and pulled muscles in both shoulders. It will hurt every time you turn your head. For about ten minutes you will fell like vomiting. For much longer you will feel like an idiot.
Amazing the power of a 2 1/2 inch cockroach.
When I let people read my work, I have moments of panic. A desire to escape as if there is some trick to escaping myself. But usually the long list of excuses for why everything is still not right just leads to looking more foolish. I’m tired and in pain and wondering why I can’t pull off the published author trick. Hey, I’m not a gymnast.
Lately the why-aren’t-you-published question is akin to the why-are-you-in-pain question. The cockroach answer is as embarrassing, but more people understand it.
If publication is a goal, what holds you back?
You could say that publication isn’t necessary. You could also say I should’ve just mushed the cockroach. But I don’t actually believe either of those statements.