I couldn’t have said this any better myself… Best of luck Kathy!
Alone, I am nothing. I am made up of little pieces of the world. Bits of many people and places.
When I was very little I lived in Burma and there was a small bridge not far from my house where I used to go play. The whole world lived under that bridge and I controlled it. I observed and reigned. I never dared step in to that world, though. It was too dangerous. I stayed on the outside with my nanny protecting me.
Writing a book is a gargantuan task. It is one of the scariest things in the world. Not only is there the fear of failure — “even if I do finish it, will anybody want to read it?”…. but, there is also the fear of losing a part of yourself. Every writer must give a piece of themselves, a part…
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