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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