One writer stands before a post box, hovering an A4 envelope to its mouth.
Another sits at a computer, hovering a finger over the return key.
In the envelope is a submission, waiting to be sent.
On the computer is an email submission, waiting to be sent.
The writers hold their breath.
Phloop. The envelope drops into the post box.
Click. The finger hits return.
The writers stare. It’s done. Gone. Wait. What if that scene’s still not quite right? What if a grammatical error was missed?
But it’s too late. All they can do, now, is wait.
But it could take months to hear back and no-one can spend months just waiting like that. They need something to take their minds off it. There’s nothing either of them can do, now, any way.
So what do they do? What do writers ever do?