Comments? Questions?
Picture me, sitting at my desk, bloodshot eyes strained against the screen as I feverishly write to please the voices in my head when, suddenly, my email pings. What’s this? A reader dropping a note to tell me they liked something I wrote? Or maybe it’s a question about a character, or an upcoming book? Gasp! The joy! The rapture! They like me! They really like me!
I play it cool as I hit reply. Hey. Glad you liked it. Thanks for reaching out. I hit send. Then I do a happy dance. My Italian Greyhounds jump in, pretending they know how to howl when really they sound like they’re being skinned alive. My eight-year-old joins in, doing his version of a break dance. Our chinchilla pops his head out of his hammock to see what the commotion is about. The bearded dragon gives us his side-eye that clearly communicates he thinks we’re a bunch of morons. My husband shakes his head, smiling.
“Are you going to do this every time?”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes I am.”
See? Side-eye. He’s judging us.