As I write this, I am gearing up to share the first draft of my finished novel with some folks who have generously (and perhaps foolishly) agreed to take a look at it for me. Out of morbid curiosity, out of pity,  because they’re bored and not traveling over spring break, because they owe me one–take your pick.

I’m doing this because I have been a faithful little writers’-book junkie, and all those books tell novice writers that they must, simply must, show their work to someone before shooting it off to a publisher or literary agent or the chances of their manuscripts being published shrink dramatically. I believe them, because at this point, let’s face it, their books are in print, and mine is still in a Word file. But the very thought of sharing my manuscript is giving me the heebie jeebies.

It’s not that I don’t trust the people who want to read it; I do. But the combination of my low self-esteem and my occasional lack of faith in myself makes me fearful: What if they don’t like it? What if they read it and laugh at my feeble attempt at storytelling? (Note poignant illustration of esteem problem.) What if they pass it around to other people and use it to make fun of my unattainable dream behind my back?

In my demented mindset, it never occurs to me to ask, What if they love it?  What if they have good suggestions for it? What if they know somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who can put it the hands of somebody who can really help me with it? Nope–other than at this very moment, it doesn’t occur to me to look at it that way at all.

So, I will make copies and send file attachments to these wonderful, patient (they have to be if they know me) people and hold my breath until they’ve finished reading it. I will submit myself to their examination and cross-examination of my manuscript, even though I’ll hate every minute of doing so. It’s not that I think my work is perfect, it’s that it’s easier for me to submit it to an anonymous publisher or agent than it is to submit to people I have to see or work with or look in the eye.

I so wish I could be curmudgeonly and fierce about not wanting to show my work to anyone before publication. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be Philip Pullman: “Do they imagine writing as a collaborative activity where you write a bit, then share it and talk about it, and people take it to pieces? Then you go back and write a bit more and show it again, and they take it to pieces again?… For me, anyway, it’s not like that. Writing is spending a long time in silence, by myself, and covering up the work when anyone comes in the room so they can’t see it. ” (from an interview with Dave Welch for Powells.com) I guess once you’ve gotten yourself published, then you can afford to wait until publication to show it. But how do you get yourself published without showing it to others (not publishers and agents) first? If there’s anyone out there who’s figured that one out, I’d love to hear the answer.

In the meantime, I’ll share, uncomfortably and with great trepidation. But listen up, once I get published, nobody gets advance copies. Not nobody, not no how.