I walk over the long track of broken glass. Even though I’ve seen others come out unscathed, I wonder how badly I’m going to bleed. Hang on, that’s not it. Go back a bit. I look at the email which says I’ve been accepted for Talent Campus. Two seconds of elation, then the rabbits in my head send a clear memo that this is when I will get found out. It's a standard writer worry, isn't it? i.e. When the organisers and writers hear what I’ve written, they’ll chase me out of the b