Yesterday, I started sending out my novel for feedback from a few readers. They are all writers with a sensibility similar to myself. They are the first to be reading it. I was enjoying making this past round of revisions, but as soon as I let the manuscript go, I had all kinds of misgivings. The bowling ball is halfway down the alley, and I can’t bear to see where it will end up. No amount of body English is going to make it roll more true. It’s in the mail, and my back is turned.
So funny how other people’s opinions are so important to me, no matter how much I try to be strong. Feedback is just feedback, I tell myself. It has nothing to do with my self-worth as a writer or human being.
Tell it to the judge.
Yeah–he’s right here.