Few realize the level of sadomasochism inherent in fiction writing until it’s too late. We write a few non-fiction articles and we think we’re ready for publication. We dash off a few short stories, adjust their commas and quotation marks, and prepare them for the world, only to find that we can’t let them go.

What’s the difference? Words are just building blocks, no matter the structure, so why does fiction feel so personal to some of us? What are we afraid of?

Some fear rejection. Some fear success. Some fear the vulnerability inherent in fiction, the secret window into the writer’s soul and secrets, which some reader will inevitably find.

Thus, we allow ourselves to be dominated. Dominated by our insecurities, by the power we extend willingly to the editors, by the X-ray vision of the ever-vigilant reader, all of which are really just extensions of our own fear.

The grand irony is that the only way out of this pattern of dominance is through submission; submission to as many markets as possible!