So, I did a scary thing today. I submitted the Little Girl and The Tortoise to Publisher's Weekly for review. 

Now, the odds that I'll actually get picked up to be reviewed by them is . . . very miniscule. I can hope and dream, but I'm counting on it not going anywhere. That said, putting yourself out there is a scary thing, and the imposter syndrome was strong as I was filling out the form. 

Who did I think I was, that someone like Publisher's Weekly would review my book? And even if they did, how likely were they to be kind to it, and not rip it to shreds for its obvious faults? 

I had to fight that voice in my head because I'm really proud of the Little Girl and the Tortoise. I'm proud of the art, I'm proud of the story, I'm proud of the work that I put into it. I want people to see it, and this was an opportunity for me to try and get it out there. There will always be things for people to criticize. I don't anticipate that everyone will love the art of the book, or maybe the messaging, or maybe the rhythm of the prose won't vibe with some people. And all of that is okay. 

That doesn't mean that my book doesn't deserve to be seen. 

Dealing with criticism is something I've struggled with my whole life. It's that whole rejection sensitivity thing. But if I'm gonna make it as an author, then I've got to develop a thicker skin. So here I am, sending my heart out to a big review company, fully expecting to be ignored or rebuffed. 

But at least I did it. It's worth a try, right? And if it turns out to be a mistake, then that's one more thing I've learned on my journey. I've got this. I can do scary things.