your head. A dunce cap full of stinky bowel-scorpions. Thing is, I find that if I preset my brain like some kind of storytelling slow-cooker, I can wake up without that fear threatening to suck my heart outta my nether-holes. It's like this: before bed, I take a handful of moments to think about the next day's work -- where are the characters, what

Bleed on that page in a way that makes you vulnerable.

I'm just saying, do you feel your heart palpitating? Do you feel suddenly overcome by uninvited worry and embarrassment? Shhh. Shhhh. Realize that this doesn't matter. None of this matters. You're not saving the world. You're just telling stories. That's