ANGRY ANGST

Angst. The word looks as convoluted as it feels. Angst catches the breath. It raises the heart rate. The process renders your thinking to mush. The process is inexplicable: why is a submission of a novel to an agent as traumatic as formulating the last words on your death bed must be? Why is it in looking for that 999thversion that you want to send, you have the dickens of a time finding it? Why then does one lose the submission that has been worked on and revised for how long to the OUTBOX (thanks to King Google?) only to discover this morning that you may have sent three drafts? Oh, the horror. Are we writers such “lowly worms”?