A journey back in time
In what I was about to call ‘the old days’, until I realised that it wasn’t that long ago, if you sent an agent or publisher a manuscript, or a magazine a short story, or a person a competition entry, you did it by post. Back then you worried about delivery problems such as the recipient’s Rottweiler tearing the postman’s leg off, or your local post box being struck by lightening, rendering all the letters within nought but blackened dust.
It all came down to Mr Postman
But all those things aside, the most important thing was, of course, waiting for a response. Because you know when the post comes, this meant there was only one moment a day when your anticipation levels would rise to unbearable heights. You’d stare out of the window, or (if you have one of those post-boxes that was at the bottom of a driveway) lie in the garden under a camouflage blanket of leaves with your binoculars. Your heart would leap with every noise. Is that the postman’s car coming now? Was that high-pitched scream Rover from next door tearing a delivery boy’s leg off? Would it be heartless of me to run over and rummage through his bag for anything addressed to me whilst he writhes in pain, awaiting an ambulance?
Response window for today is now closed. Please resume excitement tomorrow.
If your post arrived with no letter for you from the people in question, you could ride out the surge of disappointment and get on with your day. You had until tomorrow before there was any point in getting excited.
24-hour panic stations
Now, however, thanks to the miracle of instantaneous communication, it is possible to receive a response at almost any time of day. This particularly applies if you have submitted work oversees, when different time zones mean you can experience the joy of starting you day by checking your emails and receiving a soul-destroying rejection. To be able to feel that depressed early in the morning is a feat that could only have been achieved pre-email by having a photo of some abandoned puppies on your cereal box. Look at them, they’d love some of that milk you’ve just poured liberally onto your cereal.
We’ve all become obsessives
With the potential to receive a response at any time of day, there is no longer that window of opportunity that we could enjoy with the postal system. Which means most of us will become email goblins, checking our messages every few minutes on PC, or laptop or smart phone. We can no longer be tense just for an hour or so in the morning. Now, thanks to email, it’s an all-day experience. The wonders of technology, eh?
To be honest, it’s amazing we don’t hear more stories about writer’s whose heads have exploded through the sheer strain of anticipation. Then again, maybe not. After all, who’d be able to write it? Not them, obviously.
Coping. Or not.
So how do you cope? Do you cope? What are you tips for avoiding copious email-checking?
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My coping mechanism: Dual e-mail accounts. The casual one that I leave open pretty much all day long, and the professional one that I’d have to endure a grueling log-out, log-in again process to access. (You laugh, but believe me — with the tech hex I’m apparently under, it can be a lot worse than it sounds.) Thanks to procrastination, general laziness, and the occasional “out of sight, out of mind” mentality, I may go as many as two days in a row without poking my head in to check for reject– I mean, responses! (Shame on you, me. Be optimistic!)
I’m trying to imagine the process that must make signing into an email account so complicated that you don’t bother very often! Is your account guarded by a bear, marooned on a island in the middle of a lava lake or something?
As hard as it might be, I admire your willpower, and the fact that you can let laziness get in the way of checking for those important rejecti-responses
That’s what I lack I think. I suppose I should just say ‘you can only check your email at this time each day’ or something and then stick to it.
And yes, be positive!
Lol, no, nothing quite so epic-quest-ish. The computer just likes to freeze on me if I spook it by clicking on things too fast, or something. So until I determine the arcane ritual required to keep the technology spirits appeased, I feel like I have to walk on eggshells. Willpower isn’t born: It’s created by bratty laptops! What doesn’t kill our internet makes us stronger! XD
I just keep my mailbox open, if there’s a message I’ll know it and if I can, I’ll check it immediately. I don’t really have a problem being obsessed with my mailbox, but my girlfriend on the other hand…
I’ve started doing that as well, although I find I still check it. I don’t trust my computer to make the noise it’s supposed to when I get a new message, although at least by keeping it open it cuts out 30 seconds of sign-in time every occasion that I want to have a look.
Is that your girlfriend has a problem being obsessed with her mailbox or yours?!
Me being obsessed with mine