In the last few months, though, I’ve started to feel a little discomfort. Writing is highly personal. I’m not saying I act out the risque scenes in my novels at all, but I do fill every sentence with a bit of my soul. And that, for me, is far more personal. Do I really want to deal with people being able to climb inside my head that way? Not people, reader people or other writers–they get it. But, say, those I come in contact with at work or who attend church with me.