Forbidden Romance Tales
he conceded, his tone thoughtful, measured.
“Thank you,” she said, the words feeling inadequate. Praise from him was a rare and potent drug and she felt its warmth spread through her.
“You’ve taken my critiques seriously. But still you withhold yourself. Fear constrains you. The personal must seep into your work if it is to resonate.”
“It’s difficult,” she admitted, her guard down in the intimacy of the critique. “To be that exposed and then hand it to someone for judgment.”
“Exactly,” he said softly. “To write is to expose. To create is to risk. That is the privilege and the burden of being a writer. You must trust yourself enough to be seen, even if it burns.”