I had an email this week from a reader and she’d just read Flirting with Forty and she loved it. Loved it. She felt like I was inside her head and she said she hadn’t read a book she’d loved this much in so long.
And then I did a double take and it wasn’t Flirting with Forty. She’d read Odd Mom Out. Someone had given her an advanced reading copy of Odd Mom Out.
I was touched and amazed by this woman’s response to Odd Mom Out because I wasn’t sure this next book would resonate with readers the same way Flirting did, and yet the reviews and reader comments are just as good, if not better.
That’s when I had my first of several small epiphanies: I don’t write for everybody. I write for those who need my books.
The second epiphany was that those who need my books will find them. I can’t agonize over sales numbers or public response or lists. I can only have faith that my books will find those who need them most. And I do mean need them.
Those who know me know I have this long history of being a missionary in my own way. I want women to have more. I want women to know love and expect goodness and compassion, hope and laughter. If I can write something that makes a woman believe…if I can write something that makes someone feel…if I can write something that comforts and encourages than I have done what I’m meant to do.
We women can do anything. We just have to know we’re not alone.
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