There are times when I wonder what am I doing? Many days I talk to myself.

Writing is not an easy answer to a question that occupies the time. I achieve a form of satisfaction when people read my blog or books and compliment me, but the reality is I write because I enjoy it. My success is like an imaginary playmate, sometimes it appears, and sometimes it giggles, running away.

Any writer taking years or months to finish a project deserves an award. If marketing isn’t a skill, then a slow start is fueled by endless cups of caffeine, sleep deprivation, and self-doubt.

I started writing to have my work in an independent bookstore. Now, with so many of the stores closing, I’m chasing my shadow. Acquiring an agent and publisher was only half the battle. Nowadays, a writer, unless you’ve sold a gazillion books, is expected to walk over dead bodies to help your publisher market your book.

Well, as unfamiliar as I am with the ins and outs of publishing, I’m plodding along. Some moments (yes, moments) are better than others. I crave the time when I can write my next story, which is on the back-burner because of the marketing I need to do.

Ironically, I did get a review (yeah) on recently published, The Last Merry Go Round, in Amazon. The same reader who gave me five stars on The Ears That Have Eyes (first book) gave me three stars for this latest one. Why? Our conversation was The Last Merry Go Round was emotionally hard for her, because it hit too close to home. I’m happy for the review and professionally glad the review wasn’t a one star. I hear writers say all the time, “It’s hard to get reviews.” I’m celebrating to get a review on Amazon and two commentaries on Goodreads—one of which is five stars, along with that three-star one added from Amazon.

Life is a handshake with many people. I feel being in the crowd and have someone extending you their hand warrants an admission you’re (still) in the race.

Writing, for me, is about passion. I’m drawn to character-driven fiction, elevating thinking and dialog long after one closes the book.

I’m happy moving like the engine that could and being me.