![]() Please! It’s Cassie Hogan’s birthday party and I can’t go in a dress that everyone in my class has already seen.”īeth made a face. “Mum, we need to go shopping on Thursday night. Every day in a preteen’s life was wonderful and horrifying and life or death. I was already facing the door, waiting to hear her latest catastrophe or thrilling story. “Mum!” Beth threw open my office door but I was braced for it. ![]() There was a difference.īraden just laughed but I was being completely serious. After eighteen years in Scotland, I knew that crabbit meant “grumpy as hell.”Īs much as I appreciated the sentiment, I argued that I was not grumpy. Everyone in our family knew I only put the sign up when I was in the zone and really didn’t need interruptions creating havoc with the flow of words.īraden bought me the sign. I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing my twelve-year-old daughter was about to bust into my office, even though my “Crabbit Writer at Work” sign was on the door. ![]() It was mostly due to the personal nature of the story. This was the first time I wanted Braden to read one of my stories before anyone else. But as I watched my printer whipping out the novella I’d spent the last month writing, I had to admit that what I was feeling was a different kind of apprehension. Usually when I finished a book I felt a level of apprehension before sending it to my agent and editor. ![]()
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