A story's trip through the Clarkesworld submissions queue.
On a dream-like "what if?" hope, tempered with "since they are so responsive, at least I'll be able to submit it somewhere else when they reject me, but still: what if?" I finally submitted a ruthlessly-pared-down-from-5000-to-under-4000-words story (the paring down alone took a month to get to a place which made me somewhat happy) to Clarkesworld on Tuesday morning, and found that my story was #27 in the queue. Before leaving for lunch, it was #25, and I already felt the sense of approaching doom. You can actually watch the clock tick down to your story's death; it's an interesting feeling.
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