Start over, as if that’s all there is to it. I’m about to finish a sixth novel, Les Mailles sanguines. The stage fright gradually seizes me, because I will have to face the publishers, those who will say no. If I have had the chance to be published five times, I wonder if 1) I will be remembered 2) if what I write is valid.
I stop complaining here right now. I’m just starting over, rehearsing, and also rewriting. I’m trying to reinvent myself.