There is a certain kind of horrible anxiety that seizes a writer who has just sent his book out to people for them to read. Are they enjoying it? Did that part suck so much they stopped? Are they recognizing your true, mad genius? Or have they scorned your life's work and tossed it into the gutter, never to see how truly special a find it truly was?
In my time giving people stuff to read, from Brellan to Wolfhound to other stories, I haven't had it quite this bad for some time. Maybe because this is the first readthrough and response I will get on Kingsley. Maybe I simply have fewer distractions this time to amuse me while I wait. Or maybe I've created the greatest book of all time so read it you guys!
Ahem. I will attempt to restrain myself now. Calmly. Calml--It's got plot twists and everything! Genius I tell you!
Sigh. It's going to be a long couple of months.
I've gone through a few chapters so far, and I'm taking it on my flight to Boston so I should have several straight hours to subject myself to--I mean, enjoy it.
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