I miss my anxiety … but lately, my aim is improving.

For the most part, authors are wriggling balls of anxieties held together by dreams and duct tape. We like to pretend we’re not, but if you catch a writer in an honest moment, (s)he’ll admit it’s true. Before I had an agent, I thought my anxiety would disappear when I found one. Before I had a publishing deal, I thought a contract would cure my nervous woes. I believed a multiple-book deal would leave me smiling forever. I should have asked for a unicorn too – because clearly, I was dreaming. The question for authors – and, truly, for every

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