I'm terrified of dentists. I'm not talking a little anxious or even palms sweating. I'm talking the kind of panic only steel will can tame. I literally drag myself into that office because I like having teeth. She's a lovely person, a gentle dentist, and so patient. Nevertheless, I've come from there now, and I'm grateful for her skill, but I'm not going to lie (as my daughter often says). I need a restorative nap.
Writing can be almost as frightening. Today, I seem to have no objectivity. I have friends who positively crow with delight over a new story, and goodness knows, I was feeling pretty cocky. Plot flowing, characters growing. It all seemed to come together. Not so much as I read over this new snopes. It appears to be a mishmash of stuff that may be scenes collected in a document--or a story that needs to be tidied up.
Better skip that nap and find out what I've got!
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