Friday, February 18, 2011
And then I start playing the “what if” game. I hope most of you aren't like me. I hope you’re so self-assured that nothing ever shakes you. But if you're not, then you know exactly how the game goes.
A wicked little voice whispers in your ear and nibbles away at any amount of self-esteem you ever thought about having. The voice plows through your fields of imagination, sowing noxious, stinging weeds.
1. What if nobody buys my story?
2. What if somebody DOES buy my story but doesn't like it?
3. What if I don’t get any reviews?
4. What if I DO get reviews but they’re bad ones?
5. What if I don’t do enough promo?
6. What if I do so much promo everyone cringes when they see my name?
You get the idea. I honestly believe in a previous life, I was a little dog who raced in circles snapping at his own tail. What will I do if I ever catch it?
Luckily, my husband and two daughters are all accustomed to this behavior. They shake their heads, roll up a newspaper and swat me. “Snap out of it! Look at everything you’ve accomplished. When are you going to start believing in yourself?” You should hear them. The way they harmonize this mantra is very impressive.
I tell them I'll probably always be this way. Childhood demons and old habits die hard. Besides. Believing in me is THEIR job. I'm lucky they do it so well.
And since they are so very supportive, for their sakes, I will do my best to stop playing the "what if" game. I'm going to trade up and don a new and improved "whatever will be...will be" mindset.
So. If you’d like a wee taste of my new story, here’s a bit for you to enjoy:
Beyond a Highland Whisper excerpt:
However, tonight Latharn was different. He didn’t go any further then the hungry possession of her mouth or the desperate, crushing embrace. Nessa sensed he needed this night to be different. His body tensed beneath her touch, he restrained his caress as if he wanted her to reason rather than just shatter into mindless bliss.
He raised his head and gazed into her eyes. Nessa flinched at the depths of pain and frustration etched in his face. He struggled, trying to communicate, to connect with her deepest emotions without the use of words. He took his palm, flattened it against his heart then placed it upon her chest. His brows drawn together in a questioning frown, he tilted his head and waited for a sign that she understood.
Her lower lip quivered at the very obvious gesture. Nessa whispered and covered his hand with hers. “Are you telling me you love me?” Her whisper caught in her throat.
One corner of his mouth pulled up into a relieved smile as Latharn nodded and brushed his lips across hers. He took a deep breath as though steeling himself against his own deepest fears. He took her hand and repeated the heart touching gesture from her chest to his. Then he raised a brow and awaited her answer, anxiety filling his eyes.
A lone tear escaped down her cheek as Nessa stared at her hand splayed upon his broad chest. “You know I love you,” she murmured with a moan. “I just wish that you were real.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling her into his arms to cradle her against his chest. Holding her close, he stroked her hair as she gave way to tears.
Enjoy your days, my friends, and remember - whatever will be...will be! :-)
The Wild Rose Press: http://tiny.cc/l68th