The trouble with laundry is that it is never, ever finished. I mean, unless you do your laundry naked, there's always something that needs washing.
Dishes, at least, give you a few hours before they come back and smack you in the ass. You can actually clean all of them. And for a little while, if the kids aren't home, or if you order take-out and use paper plates and plastic utensils, they may actually stay done.
Writing short fiction is like doing the dishes. It's compact. I can get most of it in the dishwasher. The rest of it, pots and pans, the good knives, wiping down the counter and scrubbing out the sink -- that all happens in the editing. And if I've done it right, the thing gleams when I'm through. It goes out into the world all sparkly, to be accepted or rejected on its merits. I hope.
The Damn Novel is laundry. No matter how done you think you are, standing there in front of a newly emptied laundry basket in your bathrobe with no skivvies on, there's always that one shirt with the grease stain from the time when you had that particularly juicy burger and it dripped in the wrong direction and a little bit of melted cheese went along with it and even though the pretreater specifically said it would get out grease stains, do you think it did? Noooooo.
(No, no. It's all right. I'm fine. Just...breathing deeply. Right then.)
The question is always, "Have I done everything I possibly can to make this MS shine." I suppose it's a confidence issue. I could question whether it's really ready to send into the world until the moon grows devil horns. Ultimately -- assuming it really is as ready as I can make it -- I just need to suck it up and get to sending. Or querying. You know what I mean.
Laundry sucks. (The real laundry, not The Damn Novel. I love The Damn Novel with an unhealthy fervor. Okay, not that much. I'm ready to let it go. Mostly.)
Coming Friday!: A short story using the words: pleasure, flogging, hard, (no, I'm not kidding, these are the kinds of readers I have) quintessence, buttercup, persnickety, cello, calliope, and forlorn. This should be interesting.