There is a certain kind of unique terror in publishing a written work. While none of the stories I've written are in any way autobiographical, they have come from somewhere inside me. Where, I can't really say. There seems to be a font of storytelling in my subconscious and, when unleashed, it's very prolific. But, sharing those stories is daunting. It's a bit like those dreams where you are walking down the street naked and, unlike Rosie O'Donnell in Sleepless in Seattle, you feel vulnerable and frightened.
Just like with selling handmade items, publishing your writing definitely has its challenges. But it also has its amazing high points. I love when someone lets me know they've purchased my book. Better yet, they purchase it from me and have me sign it for them. Even better, they let me know they've read The Treasure of Ravenwood or To Miss the Stars and they love it. They tell me how much they love Mouse and Shadow's story or how deeply they connected with John Worthington.
All this means the world to me and is worth the fear I feel. Yet, I have to admit, there is one thing that I love even more. There is that moment when a reader tells me they have re-read my story. That they had to go back and experience it again. As a reader, I know just what this means. I've read books once. It is, however, those books I re-read that mean the most to me. To have someone go back to Ravenwood or to John's study and revisit my characters, to re-experience the story I wrote? That's why I take the chance. That's why I write.