Every time someone calls me an author, I tense up. I can feel it in my shoulders. I purse my lips, and the wrinkles on my forehead grow deeper when I frown. “I wish they would stop calling me that,” a voice inside me whispers.
Every time someone calls me an author, I tense up. I can feel it in my shoulders. I purse my lips, and the wrinkles on my forehead grow deeper when I frown. “I wish they would stop calling me that,” a voice inside me whispers.