Tiptoeing through my words

Tiptoeing through my words

I don’t know about you, but I find writing a story an exhilarating, but somehow unnerving, experience.

What if I tell the story all wrong? Miss the chance to commit something wonderful to the page and end up with an account that is merely satisfactory? In some ways, the blank page of the empty book is so reassuring, because, in it, anything is still possible, nothing is committed, fixed or final.

I’m not a commitment-phobe, I hasten to add, it’s simply that I worry...