My security blanket is my own space, both physically and mentally. Everything is safe when you’re alone, you know? You can think, say, write, or do whatever you want without any judgment or criticism, except maybe from God. But I’ve found God to be far less critical than any human.
So anyway, I sent out my novel to beta-readers today and I feel like I just stepped outside in a bikini. Did I shave? Is my butt covered? Do I have RT? Am I pasty-white? I hope no one notices my stretch-marks. What about that jiggly place between my thighs? I need one of those ghetto Thigh-Masters.
I hate swimsuits.