One would think that being critiqued would eventually become like an old hat, worn, faded, and familiar. I have been writing for over a decade and a half, and the hat hasn't even gotten dust on it. I still release each chapter, book, or snipet of writing with a eager heart and wait just as tensely for feedback as I did the first day I pushed my first fledgling from the nest. Even now, an old authoress (over the big 30), I still feel like a school girl when I get a nice review.
Now, I don't mean the shy kind, knee-high bobby socks, hair in pigtails, and bangs in the eyes sedately waiting in the corner. I am referring to the giggly kind with bouncy blond hair that laugh at everything and scream while jumping up and down clutching their fellow gigglers at the slightest announcement of something good. Yeah, I feel a little bit like them.
When one of the respected readers that I had asked to comment on Living Sacrifice told me that she "loved" my book, I wanted to jump up and down and scream right in the middle of the auditorium at church. Of course, I squashed the impulse. However, that giggly blond is still in there somewhere doing a happy dance at the fact that someone I respect really likes my book.
So, if you someday happen upon a usually dignified-looking woman, over 30, doing a happy dance off in some corner when she thinks she is alone, it is probably me. It isn't likely, though. I don't even do it in front of my hubby. Only my toddler son, my two dogs, and the kitchen appliances truly know what a nut case I still am. Some parts of us never really die, not that I ever was a giggly sort, really. However, I was a bit of a ham.
- Rachel Rossano
