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Oh, the doubts.

A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book, nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book, nothing can help him.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna’s quote is embedded into my soul as every minute I spend engaging in the craft I adore, I have those moments of doubt and simply wonder why? Why do I torture myself in this pursuit? Why don't I just give it up?

I can tell you that I probably have spent as much as I earned from this endeavor and am trying to scrape together enough to finish the projects I started.

But then...

This voice in my head says,

“Don’t you dare give up! ”

Suddenly a weird sort of magic happens.

I am enveloped in euphoria. The characters whisper their story in my ear, and my dreams become full of adventures like no other.

Lightning strikes, and the plot begins to unfold faster than my butterfingers full of neuropathy can type.

Yep, this is my joy...

Now, I'm not saying I'm a great writer, and I say that which much love and respect for the editors who labored over my work, but I think I'm a pretty damned good storyteller.

Now the reviews...

Sure the opinions of friends and family matter. Even though many fall silent about my pursuit and that is a bit nerve-racking. I mean, who would have thought that cousin, aunt, or especially that zany, crazy friend Lori would write a damn book or two or three. But frankly, it makes perfect sense, doesn't it? I mean, I’ve always been a natural-born bullshitter with my head in the clouds.

Though it is the reviews, however, from folks, I've never met. The perfect strangers, who enjoy my work, and who have purchased every book. They have no ulterior motives other than the pleasure of reading, and I'm so touched they chose to read my work—this is what brings me to tears and keeps me pursuing this endeavor.

The reality... Over the past year, I've spent time on undertakings that didn't bring me exhilaration, and those projects failed. I, of course, have also been dealing with treatments and the physical and emotional side effects of having a critical illness, so those things combined have delayed my progress.

But...I want to let each one of you know, I haven't yet found the cure, but I certainly know what my medicine is —and that is losing myself in the narrative.

So... If you wonder how I am doing, know as long as I'm writing- this girl is in joy.

Thanks for reading, much love and keep the writers of the world writing -please buy books!

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