Three O'Clock and All's Well

It's a little after three in the morning, and I've just finished the first draft of my submission to Dean Alfar's Speculative Fiction Anthology, Volume 2.

Frankly, it's been a wild ride. I juggled four different plot ideas since the anthology was originally announced some months ago, and it took until this week for me to realize that at least one of them was worth completing. The other plots are probably healthy enough to support stories on their own, but my conclusion of this entry should allow me to put them on the back burner for further development.

I'd try writing up one of those others right now, only the deadline for submissions is tomorrow (today?) already, and my attention will most likely be fixated on getting the finished copy in on time. Besides, I've been writing non-stop for the last five hours, and before dinner I had been stuck on the computer for six. I need my sleep at the moment.

What worries me the most, actually, is the fact that I'm worrying about this submission in the first place. You could argue that I have nothing to prove since my entry made it to the first volume; I'd argue that I have everything to prove to myself now, since I can't sleep unless I get some indication that I'm a consistent author, rather than an insanely lucky one.

I'm not certain as to whether or not this entry is good; My mind tends to be blurry at three in the morning. You could say that all the story got wrung out of my head like water from a wet dishrag, and that wouldn't be very far from the truth. The only thing I can hope to do now is file it away and give it a cursory read in the forthcoming early afternoon. Then, God willing, I'll have enough strength left to toss it into Mr. Alfar's inbox.

If you're still awake out there for any reason, at least you get to know that I share your pain. This is the kind of insomnia that people don't care to write about, really -- the kind that gets fueled by blind panic, mostly because your favorite far-off deadline now happens to be standing on your doorstep like a rogue IRS agent. And he's not there to give you a rebate.

What do I have planned next, now that this is practically over and done with? Well, I hear that the Philippine PEN is looking for submissions...