REAPER is now in the hands of my very willing and able beta reader bunch (thanks, guys!) and I just have to say…

I’m fucking terrified.

I would love to say that I’m confident it’ll be warmly received, that their red pens will grow dry with lack of use, and that I will be worshiped for my uncanny ability to bend and twist language to create a masterpiece. 

I know. I laughed, too.

The thing is, I’m not even sure that it’s any good. It started out as a short story that morphed into a novel because someone named Renee thought it’d be fun to participate in NaNo last year. (Side note: I will never EVER do that again.) It was like pulling teeth to get the words on paper and now that they’re down and being scrutinized by SEVERAL pairs of eyes… Hang on. Pretty sure I almost fainted there.

The good thing about finishing this first (and second) draft of REAPER, though, is that now I know that I can do it. Granted, I wrote two other novel length drafts a few years ago, but those two stink so bad that an entire warehouse of Febreeze couldn’t do anything to hide the stench.  Finishing REAPER has given me the confidence to dive in and DO IT AGAIN. 

And again.