Or, Counting One Writer’s Blessings
I am grateful for every person who has purchased one of my books in the last year and half, and for every stranger who has stopped to read one of my posts. I’m especially grateful to those who have encouraged me with likes and comments, and to those of you who found me via absurd and hilarious search terms.
I am grateful for friends, family, and my husband who support my writing and tell me that, yes, I really am a delight to read. I am especially grateful for a husband who has read a romance novel because he wanted to know what I was working on. I am grateful for my parents’ lack of media savvy so they do not have to be embarrassed by what, exactly, it is that I’m writing.
I am grateful for the internet and the entrepreneurs who make it possible for me to write what I want and offer it to readers without being mediated by a publisher. I am grateful for the online communities of likeminded writers who support and inspire me in self-publishing endeavors, and for the communities of differently viewed writers who keep us on the “other side” honest about our options and odds.
I am grateful for the education I received from my parents and my public school, and I am grateful to my university professors who taught me how to look at English as a language, look at language as a tool, and look at tools as a means of creation. I am grateful to the young girl named Lily Emily White who took the time to learn and absorb the lessons those professors offered her.
I am grateful, as ever, to my muse, my nameless green-eyed wastrel of a muse who always comes back to me and never minds when I have gone on ahead without him.
I am, indeed, as all of my neighbors love to say, blessed. And I am grateful for it.