This week i’m writing a super-scary section of my book and am plagued with anxious questions and baroque self-doubt. Is this too dark? Too seamy? Too implausible (though it really happened)? And (worst fear of all) will anyone give a fuck? It occurs to me that we all constantly feel this way even when we’re not writing books or undertaking some other scary venture so I send solidarity if the sensation is especially acute. Feel free to send magic carpets and unicorn carrier pigeons if you’re so inclined. Golden parachutes also welcome, though in my heart of hearts I know there ain’t no way out but to write it.