I don’t even have all the feedback yet. Just little tidbits. A few comments dropped casually over WhatsApp on the opening pages. A clarification here. A question there. A pause. A “Wait, what did you mean by…?” Enough to confirm a few things I was already side-eyeing, eye-rolling, and unhinged staring.Enough to make me feel a new kind of fear I didn’t even know about. Last week I wrote about sending my paper-baby, virgin novel, Forget The Fairytale, to my beta readers. Letting go. Resisting the urge to tweak my work to death, even though I didn’t have one more logical thing to give it. Giving it to other, yet trusted people and…