Nerves

Stan has the manuscript. He will, at some point or another, sit down and read some of it (or even all of it).

Oh dear.

Sometimes I think I'm a good writer. Then I read good (and great) writing and feel miserably inadequate.

After all, I remember, I'm not published. I have a marvelous agent, but have yet to convince him my manuscript is ready to be seen. I love my book, but it pales in comparison to my favorite novels.

Of course, even if I get published, that doesn't mean anyone will read it and like it. Even if Stan sends out the manuscript, that doesn't mean it will impress anyone.

At least I love it. That should be enough...right?

Groan.

I just have so much to learn, and I'm afraid I'll never learn it.

If you can't tell, my nerves are eating me up.

All, right. Enough wallowing. Chin up, teeth clenched, and back to work!