Okay. So. I’m finished with manuscript number three. And THIS one has potential. I think. But there’s something bugging me about it, something not right. Problem is, I don’t know what it is. This is where your true friends in the writing world come to the rescue. (Hey Valerie! Kimberly! Georgia! Cheryl! Barb!) These experienced, agented, mostly published, highly educated writers have read my manuscript and hammered me. I asked them to. And I liked it. See, I’ve been living in this make-believe world for the better part of a year. And I think I know what’s happening. But, turns out, I’m so comfy there, so close to the story, that I can’t actually see it anymore. I guess a lot of people would be sad, or cry even, if someone who they respected and actually liked said, “This is crap. Leave it out or fix it so it carries the story forward.” Yeah, I might cuss under my breath, but if it’s true, then I need to know. If it’s really true, I go, “Thank you! That’s what’s been bugging me. It needs to be cut or re-written or rearranged. What would I do without you?” I’d never get an agent, that’s what. Thank you, critical readers. Keep kicking my ass.