I have to admit that there are many times I am reluctant to say I am a writer. Not because there is anything wrong with being a writer, you understand.
It has always been my dearest wish.
It’s more that I question whether I have worked hard enough, written well enough to call myself that. Ever.
Writers are people like Philip Pullman, Diana Wynne Jones, Eva Ibbotson, J.K. Rowling, Michelle Paver, Suzanne Collins, A.S. King, Jonathan Stroud…You know, grown-ups.
Today I got an email from my editor at Scholastic that made me think that maybe I am a writer after all.
My first review for ASHES, ASHES. (Note: it is a little spoilerific).
You can check it out here.
I’ll just be over there squealing and turning cart wheels.