This Sunday I submitted my first piece for consideration in a paying market. Then I submitted it to another. The piece in question being speculative poetry, there's not a lot of markets for it, but two in one day isn't bad.
I had written this poem over a year ago and forgotten about it; it languished from then until this past week in a folder labeled "Starters" because at that time I apparently thought I would ever write that story in more detail. (Spoiler: I'm not.) When I found it, I realized I actually kind of liked it. So I worried over it for two days, tweaking the rhythm and redoing the ending until I was nervously confident about it, and then the friend who was looking it over for me gave the best advice: "The worst they can say is no, and you will be no worse off in any way than you are now."
For a perfectionist like me, that is a hugely liberating thing to hear. The thing is, I didn't write this for publication; I wrote it because it was fun and then I edited it for publication. So if I lose the time I spent editing... oh well. It doesn't hurt me at all. I've still got parents paying for my living expenses, a regular job hunt going, and more poetry markets to look into for this before I give up on it. And it's not like I'm hurting for ideas either; more and more I'm finding that things I had idea seeds for fit the criteria that various places want. I can rework some of my old things to fit other places' criteria.
Long story short: I'm very likely going to be rejected. And I'm pretty much fine with that. (But if I'm not, you can bet I'm going to be bragging about it on here.)