Feeling apprehensive when turning in my last round of edits would be an understatement. The panic lingers even a year after it has been published (probably why my audiobook introduced more material). Once it’s out there for public consumption the critical lens widens. The material becomes a target and immediately gets snapped it in its dangerous jaws. Yes, rejection will always sting; that’s a given. For authors who write their life stories, though (like me), it is a little bit harder to stomach such criticism. In a way this rejection now means they’re outwardly rejecting the person too. Their life wasn’t a valuable read. Their life didn’t capture the right amount of attention. They weren’t good enough. Ouch! But people interpret art differently and my writing is no exception. I continue to tell myself this on a loop to self-soothe.  

Also, I try to remember that in a world of no, lives at least one yes. And that connection is my end goal, folks. Unity is such a beautifully complicated thing when speaking about our shared messes of life. If you read my book, I hope you can relate to some of mine.