You’ve just written a bangin’ chapter for your novel. You’ve looked over it for typos and grammatical errors. You even waited, sleeping on it before reading again in the morning. Everything seems to be in order, so you put yourself out there.
And putting yourself out there feels a lot like walking naked into a busy city street, all your goods exposed to the speculative eyes of strangers passing by. Will you get appreciate glances, nods or raised thumbs?
Or will people sneer, whisper to their partner, and cackle?
You know it’s a vulnerable feeling, but maybe this isn’t your first rodeo. You know your
privateschapter is kickass and people are going to love it.
But then the first critique comes in and… the critiquer hated it. Their suggestions amount to more words than you even submitted.
“This style just isn’t doing it for me,” says one stranger.
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