“So…what did you think?” I tucked myself as far back into my chair as the cushion would allow, my palms clammy and my heart throwing itself against my ribcage like I’d forgotten to ask for decaf in my latte. On the outside, I sat perfectly still. Not blinking, not breathing. Waiting.
My professor smiled, a picture of confidence and ease. The polar opposite of me. Finally, she spoke, “I like it. We have some work to do, but your story is really good.”
I exhaled, chin trembling, and smiled back.
It was the first time I’d handed one of my novels to someone other than a family member. As a Creative Writing major, I’d had poems peer-reviewed, short stories critiqued and scripts read. I’d received negative and positive feedback before. But not on something this big. Not on what felt like my heart itself. …Read More.