ImageI’m wondering if this is what it’s like to climb Mt. Everest.  You’re standing on the peak looking down at clouds.   You say, “All Right.  There’s rock and sky.  I could see this from a plane.  What?  I forgot the camera?  No selfie?”  

You manage to get the book written and published.  That’s the peak.  Then you look down from the peak of completion and say OMG!  The slippery slope of advertising and criticism!

But the 2nd book in the series is staring you in the face screaming “EDIT ME!!!”  And the 3rd.  And the 4th…

ATTO RUN:  The FIrst Level of Hell  is published.  It’s on the Amazon site under books. Write in ATTO RUN, look for the stars and you can’t miss it.

Was it right to write that?  Oh no!  I’m spiraling into “I’m Slime” mode again!  Don’t panic. Don’t panic.   

It’s all right.  I found my towel.  Back to near-panic mode.

There’s that feeling inside, one that says “Danger Will Robinson, Danger!” “what if…what if…what if…” and then there’s the “I’m not worthy” BS that comes from so deep inside that I’m not sure where it lives anymore.  

From the people I’m meeting in the blog-o-sphere it’s painfully obvious that anyone who is a writer is not quite right.  That’s why we get along so well–we see the world in a different way.  It means putting our emotions on a platter and serving them to strangers just because we can’t not do it.  It makes the vulnerable soul a punching bag for criticism.  It’s one thing coming from people I know–and it hasn’t happened yet–but the more people who read the book, the more likely it is that someone will write, “This is the worst piece of s**t I’ve ever read!”  

It sucks being OCD.