Thanks to angst encouraging nonsense like sitemeters and stat counters, I can see that some people have read the chapters that I so anxiously-optimistically-ridiculously posted.
First thought is something like, Oh wow. Someone’s reading it.
Second thought is like, Oh shit. Someone’s reading it.
Third thought is more like, Oh great someone’s reading it and not saying anything to me about it which means they think I’m an idiot and they’re asking what I was thinking and that I really should get a clue and become smart and, jesus, if I’m like this because someone is reading my blog what on earth am I going to be like if I ever get to be a published writer–who am I kidding–and what if, god forbid, what if someone in my own city is reading my book and I won’t know who they are and I’m going to be walking around with my insecurities on my sleeve–up and down both sleeves and down the front and back of my shirt and sitting on top of my head–and I’ll be looking around everywhere I go for that person, that one soul is who is reading my book–I can just see it now–I’ll walk into a coffee shop and there will be that, that, that stranger reading my book and I’ll scream. What am I talking about? Who is this person whose nerves just jumped out from her skin? Damn widgets.
The third thought is like the third rail. Keep away.