Because the thing she feared most wasn't spiders, or heights, or even death. It was the unfinished novel in the bottom drawer of her desk. Three hundred pages of raw, bleeding truth about a woman who chose safety over passion. She had started it at twenty-five, abandoned it at twenty-eight when a mentor told her "literary fiction doesn't pay the rent."
Because the thing she feared most wasn't spiders, or heights, or even death. It was the unfinished novel in the bottom drawer of her desk. Three hundred pages of raw, bleeding truth about a woman who chose safety over passion. She had started it at twenty-five, abandoned it at twenty-eight when a mentor told her "literary fiction doesn't pay the rent."
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