The Insecure Writer, Me

See these nails?  I stopped biting them just in time to save the fingertips and why? Because I'm an INSECURE WRITER; I need those fingers for the keyboard.









This is me when I was an INSECURE ACTRESS, biting my nails.  (Ignore the caption. Marilyn was always trying to get the spotlight away from me. I think she might have been more insecure than I was.)





I don't know which is worse, my insecurity on stage or what I'm enduring now. But I no longer look like the picture above. Here's a more recent one.



Writer on the Verge . . . but of what?




Oh, I have me ups and downs. There have been days when I've seen myself with the Nobel prize for literature clutched in my nibbled fingers. I once thought I'd craft a Newberry Award acceptance speech just in case . . . you know the phone rang. But when a call came through on the day the award was decided, it was the vet telling me I could pick up Buffy.





This is my INSECURE WRITERS REJECTION week and I'm celebrating by joining the blog hop of other angst-filled-creative-finger nibblers. At last a support group.







Alex J. Cavanaugh

If you feel like hopping on board just click on the link above and join in the angst and the insecurity. It might be fun.
Sliding on the Edge, C. Lee McKenzie, WestSide Books, Spring '09