Not an ode to jazz, more a short ramble about crippling imposter syndrome in relation to my declared intent to publish the engaging narrative that is “Amy Grace: Payne”.

The book is written and has been so for several years.

Is it the absolute best iteration of itself – I don’t know, and that is the question that haunts me.

I know it’s a good tall tale, the story is engaging, different, and all those things that should keep the reader engaged while licking their finger and turning the page to eagerly find out what happens next.

However, is the telling up to the job? 

That is the spectre that haunts my waking day.

I’ve hidden behind the cover design and text formatting; in fact, I’ve used any and every reason real and imagined to delay publishing this book.

But eventually even the most reluctant author must stand and be counted.

The naval gazing, the woe is me, the hand to forehead flouncy shirt wearing dramatics – it all must end.

If I fail spectacularly, if the reception of my work is to condemn it as toe curling cringe, then so be it, the sun will still come up on the morrow. 

I quote it often, and I should live it: “It’s NOT the critic that counts…”

Print, embrace, and relish the ride.

Hug those you love, stay safe, and do your absolute best to remain sane!