What am I afraid of? Deep in my soul I’m afraid that no one will like my stories. I guess every writer shares this fear to some degree.
Some of the doubts come from insecurity. Maybe I’m not interesting. Maybe I don’t know what I’m saying. Maybe my stories don’t mean anything to the reader and they’ll throw it in the trash.
There’s not much I can do about old scars that twist my thoughts. All I can do is try the best I can to write a good story.
Fear makes me too sensitive to criticism. Remember that dire review that panned the story? We all get one. I dread those with a passion.
A part of the fear comes from reaching for perfection. What if someone notices that extra comma
Or misplaced adverb. Is a paragraph too long or too short? I can drive myself wild with rewrites.
So here I sit exposing my tender guts and hoping you won’t poke me.
Fear doesn’t need to make sense. It just is.
See what you think of my new story.
My new holiday romance Journey of the Magi is free from October 8 to October 12 on Amazon.
Journey of the Magi blurb:
Widow Noel Martin never breaks promises, and she promised her kids they’d have Christmas at her childhood home in Connecticut. But driving across country takes money. Noel is broke when a snowstorm blows them into a tiny Minnesota café owned by a man who can change her mind. She accepts his offer of a job. Despite her attraction to him, she makes it clear she is only temporary help.
Dan Longstreet isn’t adopting any more strays, but he needs a waitress. Dan works so hard to make his café a success, he doesn't have time for love. Though Noel’s slender blonde beauty stuns him and her two adorable children tug at his heart, he denies how they threaten to change his life.
When tragedy strikes, their new-found love is the first victim. Noel can't stay and Dan can't leave. Will their journey be the gift that reunites them?
Excerpt: Even with her knit hat pulled down over her ears, her high cheekbones and the up-tilted tip of her nose flamed as bright red as a cheap statue of a Christmas elf. She blinked in the bright light.
Dan’s pulse leaped like a startled deer. He knew everyone who frequented the Deer Run Lounge and Cafe. She was no local wife searching for an overdue husband or one of the three women who made a living, if you could call it that, picking up the lumberjacks and mill workers for an hour or two.
His blood heated but he managed to control his urges by slowly polishing a clean glass and setting it in the rack for the next day’s trade. Dan nodded hello.
Her over-sized man’s winter coat trailed to her ankles, but she visibly shook. He wanted to tell her to take off her coat and get warm. She removed her gloves, pulling the fingers off one by one until her white hands shone in the dim light. A pale circle around her ring finger marked the recent removal of a band.
She returned Dan’s stare. “Is that sign in the window still good? Do you need an experienced waitress?” Her flat, emotionless voice didn’t match the way her fingers twisted round and round her gloves. His palms itched to cover hers until she calmed.
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, his mouth dry. Something in him yearned for her to be more than a passing stranger.
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