This weekend I put on my big girl panties and did the unthinkable.

I sent my full manuscript (minus the epilogue) to a complete stranger for a meal. And it terrifies me to know that she is probably sitting on her couch up in Canada right now…chewing on my words…savoring them (perhaps?)…and quite possibly even spitting them out in disgust. I understand that this is a crucial part of the process and all writers who have come before me have done it…it just doesn’t make it any easier.

I mean…what if this manuscript truly is crap? It’s the main reason why I haven’t let my husband or mom or family read through it. I could serve them a steaming pile of dog shit and they would probably tell me it was the most beautiful thing they had ever smelled. I love my cheerleaders and have needed them over the past few months; but I also love my critical, candor-driven, plot-line chewing, make me so nervous I want to vomit pre-editor betas. I know their honest feedback could hurt, I just hope it doesn’t hurt too much.

Knowing the roughest, ugliest version is under a microscope is enough to make anyone mad. But I have faith that she (and my other Beta readers who are in the process of receiving my little baby) will make my story the best possible version of itself.

I’m tough enough to handle this, right?

I’ve got a few days to convince myself that I am…because in a few days, I’ll start getting feedback.


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