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"57c7">You feel elated; better yet, you feel like you’ve given birth. Enjoy this moment for a minute; let the pride of creating the best piece ever written wash over you. You need those endorphins because no other publication will feel the same way about your article, and soon enough, neither will you.</p><h1 id="f097">Step #2: Let the tinkering begin</h1><p id="836d">Two full hours have passed. And still nothing. Your rational mind knows you should allow up to two weeks for your piece to be reviewed, but in your case, surely they’ll make an exception, right?</p><p id="5909">Self-doubt starts to creep in. If they haven’t looked at your piece yet, you still have time to make some adjustments. You open your draft, and nothing sounds right anymore. You can’t even reach the end, it’s so boring. Even your title sounds off. Gasp! Is it even okay to change it at this point?</p><p id="6d8d">Twentyfour hours. Your self-esteem is in the gutter. You’re thinking of pulling out your article altogether. Somehow, you resist. You tinker some more.</p><h1 id="336a">Step #3: Getting a little help from your friends</h1><p id="fcc1">It’s been more than a day, and you stopped believing that your article is better than sliced bread. In fact, you now think it kind of sucks. But who are you to judge? You’re not in the right frame of mind right now.</p><p id="5aec">So you ask for feedback. You share your draft link to anyone willing to listen. They give minor suggestions and overall think it’s a great piece — they know better than to upset a crazy-eyed clingy writer.</p><p id="0273">The notification bell still hasn’t turned green. Your inbox has grown cobwebs. Slack channels have no new messages. It seems like everyone has a life except you.</p><p id="62b7">No more! You’ll pretend like this article never happened and move on to the next one.</p><h1 id="a712">Step #4: Feeling the lowest of the low</h1><p id="3bdc">You vowed to write an article every day or every other day at the very least, but here you are scrolling and doing anything but meeting your quota.</p><p id="0a5b">You’re not a procrastinator, you say. No. You’re heartbroken. You’re a small fish in a big ocean, and soon you’ll get eaten alive. Nobody cares about you; nobody gives a crap about what stories you have to share. Your submission is there, collecting dust, while a snob

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editor lets out an evil scoff at the sight of your name.</p><p id="66a0">What’s the point in even trying. You feel like you’re paralyzed.</p><p id="6279">Must. Get. Validation.</p><p id="6594">You try to dust yourself off, but you’re still not ready to write. So you read. You enroll in more courses. You research — your own life stories won’t do; everything must be thoroughly backed with dry scientific papers and quotations.</p><h1 id="6b65">Step #5: Judgement Day</h1><p id="c522">The bell turned green! It’s green! You have a note on one of your ever-pending articles. The publication thanks you for sending it their way, but they’ll pass on this one.</p><p id="0357">Your topic is now obsolete — half a dozen more articles have been published with this theme since you submitted your piece. How does that even happen? Do we all get visited by the same ideas at the same time? It feels like a cosmic joke, only you’re not laughing.</p><p id="0e1f">So you got rejected, big deal, you say to yourself. It’s all part of a master plan to thicken your skin. No worries, you’ll try again! This time you’ll go for a publication that has been kinder to you in the past; you know they’ll recognize your story for the hidden gem that it is.</p><p id="d3cd">Except…two full hours have passed, and it’s time to go back to step two.</p><p id="9179"><i>You leave the computer to go scream in a pillow</i></p><h1 id="e1c4">The end?</h1><p id="3512">When all else fails, you write an article about Medium. I mean, it’s still considered writing, right? It’s better than nothing, anyway.</p><p id="fd3e">By the time you reach the end, you think it’s pretty great. God, you’re good. In the midst of all this desperation, you’ve still managed to produce terrific content.</p><p id="686d">You didn’t have high expectations about this little piece, but now you think it’s worth submitting to some big-ass publication. You’re not such a small fish anymore; you’ve got experience now, dammit. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.</p><p id="ec51">So off you go!</p><p id="0929"><i>Submit</i></p><p id="b16c"><i>Refresh</i></p><p id="b9f8"><b>Did you enjoy this story? If so, please support me by subscribing to my <a href="https://adriana-sim.ck.page/d766b1e499">newsletter</a>. I check my subscribers’ list every day <i>Refreshes Convertkit</i></b></p></article></body>

A 5-Step Guide to Anxiously Waiting for Your Story to Get Published

It’s all about that validation

Photo by Mag Pole on Unsplash

What is the single thing that kills productivity more than all procrastination techniques combined?

Hitting the refresh button.

Refreshing the Medium page. Refreshing your e-mail. Checking back into those Slack mastermind groups. Refreshing the Medium page again.

Because you never know, that little bell might turn green. Is it green yet? Maybe your article got accepted or, God forbid, rejected. Still, bad news is better than no news. Or maybe someone started following you or liked one of your older posts; thank heavens for that — the silence was getting deafening.

Still not green yet? You can’t tell, you’re reading this article. Better hit refresh again and check real quick. It’s ok, I’ll wait.

If you do this too, welcome, my friend. You’re a master procrastinator and an insecure hot mess on top of that. There’s nothing wrong with you. Join us — we, validation-seeking beginner writers, need to stick together.

If you still think you’re one of a kind, I’ll take you through the process of a procrastinating anxious writer, from the birth of a story to its demise. You might find yourself in our midst, after all.

Step #1: Feeling the high of creating a masterpiece

You finally conquered your writer’s block, endured the blood, sweat, and tears it took to create this story, did so much research you could easily become a scientist, and edited the living daylight out of your paragraphs.

Now for the finishing touches: sprinkle a little bit of Grammarly, capitalize your title, choose the proper tags, submit it to a top publication (because, ahem, you’re not a mere mortal)…and voilà! It’s done!

You feel elated; better yet, you feel like you’ve given birth. Enjoy this moment for a minute; let the pride of creating the best piece ever written wash over you. You need those endorphins because no other publication will feel the same way about your article, and soon enough, neither will you.

Step #2: Let the tinkering begin

Two full hours have passed. And still nothing. Your rational mind knows you should allow up to two weeks for your piece to be reviewed, but in your case, surely they’ll make an exception, right?

Self-doubt starts to creep in. If they haven’t looked at your piece yet, you still have time to make some adjustments. You open your draft, and nothing sounds right anymore. You can’t even reach the end, it’s so boring. Even your title sounds off. Gasp! Is it even okay to change it at this point?

Twentyfour hours. Your self-esteem is in the gutter. You’re thinking of pulling out your article altogether. Somehow, you resist. You tinker some more.

Step #3: Getting a little help from your friends

It’s been more than a day, and you stopped believing that your article is better than sliced bread. In fact, you now think it kind of sucks. But who are you to judge? You’re not in the right frame of mind right now.

So you ask for feedback. You share your draft link to anyone willing to listen. They give minor suggestions and overall think it’s a great piece — they know better than to upset a crazy-eyed clingy writer.

The notification bell still hasn’t turned green. Your inbox has grown cobwebs. Slack channels have no new messages. It seems like everyone has a life except you.

No more! You’ll pretend like this article never happened and move on to the next one.

Step #4: Feeling the lowest of the low

You vowed to write an article every day or every other day at the very least, but here you are scrolling and doing anything but meeting your quota.

You’re not a procrastinator, you say. No. You’re heartbroken. You’re a small fish in a big ocean, and soon you’ll get eaten alive. Nobody cares about you; nobody gives a crap about what stories you have to share. Your submission is there, collecting dust, while a snob editor lets out an evil scoff at the sight of your name.

What’s the point in even trying. You feel like you’re paralyzed.

Must. Get. Validation.

You try to dust yourself off, but you’re still not ready to write. So you read. You enroll in more courses. You research — your own life stories won’t do; everything must be thoroughly backed with dry scientific papers and quotations.

Step #5: Judgement Day

The bell turned green! It’s green! You have a note on one of your ever-pending articles. The publication thanks you for sending it their way, but they’ll pass on this one.

Your topic is now obsolete — half a dozen more articles have been published with this theme since you submitted your piece. How does that even happen? Do we all get visited by the same ideas at the same time? It feels like a cosmic joke, only you’re not laughing.

So you got rejected, big deal, you say to yourself. It’s all part of a master plan to thicken your skin. No worries, you’ll try again! This time you’ll go for a publication that has been kinder to you in the past; you know they’ll recognize your story for the hidden gem that it is.

Except…two full hours have passed, and it’s time to go back to step two.

*You leave the computer to go scream in a pillow*

The end?

When all else fails, you write an article about Medium. I mean, it’s still considered writing, right? It’s better than nothing, anyway.

By the time you reach the end, you think it’s pretty great. God, you’re good. In the midst of all this desperation, you’ve still managed to produce terrific content.

You didn’t have high expectations about this little piece, but now you think it’s worth submitting to some big-ass publication. You’re not such a small fish anymore; you’ve got experience now, dammit. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.

So off you go!

*Submit*

*Refresh*

Did you enjoy this story? If so, please support me by subscribing to my newsletter. I check my subscribers’ list every day *Refreshes Convertkit*

Writing
Anxiety
Humor
Life
Self
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