Maybe it’s just me, but I always feel like I’m imposing whenever I ask someone to read my work. Of course, I’ve heard that a lot of writers are hesitant to show their work to someone else, especially when it’s still just a first or second draft. After all, your novel is your baby; you’ve been working on it for months, if not years, and the last thing you want to hear is someone say that it sucks. Working up the courage to allow someone to read what you’ve written is hard enough. But then there’s this added weight of the guilt of imposition.
Whenever I finally make a decision to show someone my work, to ask for their opinion of it, I always feel like I should crawl up to them on my knees, smeared with ash and dressed in sackcloth, manuscript in hand and beg in the most deferential voice I can muster, “Would you please…if it’s not too much trouble, because I know your time is valuable and you probably have a million other things you’d rather be doing but….could you please, please read this and tell me what you think?”