Hey there. I’m Brian’s neuroses. Are you comfortable? Can I make you comfortable? I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable. Just let me know if I can make you  comfortable.

Should I be saying comfy?  Does everyone know what I mean by comfy?  Problem is, if you say it enough, comfy doesn’t sound like a word anymore. Comfy. Comfy.  And it wasn’t even a word to start with.

I’m a little bit on edge. A lot on edge.  You see, for the first time ever, a real person is reading my book. Not a friend. Not a classmate. Not an industry professional. A real, honest to goodness human being with a brain and blood and very probably sweat glands.

This has never happened before. And it’s kind of vomit inducing.  See, for months now, the vampire in my head has been telling me I suck. That I’m really, really terrible. And lately it’s been saying, “See? That real person who reads this is going to think so too.  Then you’ll know I’m right.”

Now, Brian knows that the reality is not everyone is going to like his book.  But I, his neuroses, have this fear that NOBODY will like his book. That people will point and laugh.  That readers everywhere will create cruel limericks simply to express their disdain.  And once you’ve been mocked via limerick, it’s pretty much done. Game over, man. Game over.

So I’ll be over here in the corner, teeth chattering and knees knocking.  Like Mel Brooks said, “Hope for the best, expect the worst.” Which is good because that’s something I’m awesome at! Go me!

Was that too boastful?  I’m sorry.