All writers have fears. Whether we speak aloud of them or not, they’re there.
I used to be afraid that if I let someone read a story I’d written, they would pretend it was good — that way adults hang up children’s scribbles as if worthy of awards — even if it wasn’t. It stopped me from sharing my work for a long time, until a teacher told me my work was worth setting free.
I have very abstract fears, as someone who spends a lot of time imagining scenarios that may or may never happen. It makes me a very creative human, but also plagues me with constant worries about things other people probably never stop to think about.
Example: What happens to the characters in a book after it’s over? Does my dog secretly understand what I’m saying and know I’m talking about her Christmas present?
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