I’m 62, freelance writer—you know, the hustle, no benefits, always chasing the next gig. Every single day, every day, I tell myself I’m working on my book, the one I’ve been "working on" for twenty years. But the truth is, I’m scared. Terrified, actually. I fear finishing it, I fear it being a bestseller... because then I’d have to leave my quiet life, my quiet, private life. All those tours, all those people, abandoning the peace I cling to... it’s paralyzing. So I just keep writing, and not finishing. It's ridiculous, I know. I just… I don’t know what to do.