I’m so tense with my prose. I’ve been rereading my edits on Cold Rock, and I keep trying to impress. I keep trying to sound so important.
My readers don’t need me to preach or get in their way. They just want a good story. I need to write to them as if they are sitting across from me at the Bean Hollow or the Vintage Coffee House, ready to be entertained by a story and not a philosophy.
When will I genuinely start writing for them and not at them?