I’m an author. I have self-published and sold books. I don’t have much of a following, and I don’t have the confidence-boosting event of an agent liking my work, but I’m serious about writing.
I still don’t know where writing will lead. I suppose I should assume that if my writing hasn’t gone anywhere in the five years I’ve been self-publishing, that it’s not going to go anywhere. But I’m optimistic, because the most important thing to me are the words and their meaning. Everything else is beyond my control to a great extent.
I don’t know if I believe in God, but I pray for success. I don’t specify what success looks like, because I don’t like telling God what to do. I also don’t think God is going to get me a publishing contract, but maybe They will help me see success when it’s in front of my eyes. Maybe I’ll see a new way to publicize my work. Maybe I will have a strong desire to let writing go.
My definition of success is having readers who want to read the next novel in the series. Readers whose imaginations visit Barn Swallows’ Dance or the neighborhoods of Chicago where my characters live. People who know who their favorite character is. I want people to feel welcome in my world. Maybe I can have that success.
We shall see. I will never have any success if I give up.
Words Like Me 