Finding My Type in New York

 Subject to Subject Line Paranoia

When I have a story (or, as is usually the case, several stories) out for consideration, checking email is more than just a casual endeavor. It becomes a preoccupation bordering on obsession. Every time I waken the computer or pick up my phone or tablet, the first thing I do is open Gmail. With a mixture of optimism and dread, I scan the subject headers column looking for keywords like "accepted" or "congratulations", and manifesting my little heart out that I won't see "rejected" or "we're sorry".

The ambiguous "re: your submission to XX" is a mixed blessing. I don't open those emails right away. In a Schrödinger's Cat sort of way, until I read the email it is both good news and bad news. I can allow myself to ride the high of anticipated acceptance.

Earlier this week the subject line was without ambiguity.

It was just after lunch when I opened my email for probably the thirtieth time. As usual, the war in my brain started without preamble. Half of my thoughts were full of hope that I would receive word from one of the publishers. The other half snidely sneered at my naiveté. Both sides were momentarily silenced when I read "Congratulations!" in bold, black pixels.

"Obviously some spam made it through Google's filters," the snotty side of my brain hissed.

My eyes darted to the sender column. My heart stopped when I recognized the name of the publisher. Back to the subject line, I read the rest of the bold text.

My story was accepted. Schrödinger's Cat is alive.