If I had my way I wouldn't have told a soul about my manuscript until it was published and sitting snug at bookstores everywhere. And yes, I do see the flaw in that logic. If I didn't tell anyone about it, how exactly did I think it was going to get published? I saw it playing out something like this; I'm home playing in the yard with my kids. A car breaks down in front of our driveway and the stranded motorist wanders back to use the phone. We chat as he/she waits for the tow trunk and low and behold I learn they just so happen to be a publisher at Random House. Timidly I introduce them to my novel. They are enchanted by the stellar wit of my writing style and offer me a lucrative contract on the spot.
I'm a fiction writer. In my head this scenario is totally plausible. In the real world, not so much.
My big fear of coming out as a writer was if my book never went anywhere. I envisioned it a "they're all going to laugh at you" scene straight out of Carrie. Unfortunately I don't have the telepathy required to pull that off...yet.
Do I honestly believe my family or friends would laugh at me for NOT succeeding in getting published? No way, no how. Heck, they were the ones that dragged me kicking and screaming out of the aspiring author closet. They sure didn't do it so any failures I faced would be public. They did it because they are proud of me and want to see me succeed. And I thank them for it. They know me well enough to know that I would much rather be known as someone that tried and failed than someone that was too scared to try at all. Maybe I won't be the next J. K. Rowling, but rest assured it won't be for lack of trying.