Over the years, I’ve come to learn that people have no idea how much they impact upon the lives of others. One small gesture from you; a forgotten phone call, un-confirming a set date, a small token of appreciation; all that can make a huge difference in someone’s life, and without you even knowing it.
There are times when I have doubts about my writing, what writer doesn’t? Then again, there are those occasions when somebody does or says something about my work that reassures me that I must continue. No matter what happens, I’ll always write. I’m not sure there’s anyone who could stop me. They might be able to put a stopper in it for a spell, but the likelihood is the desire will fizz inside until it bursts forth from its containment. Writing is what I do. It’s what I’ve always done, and the only thing that will ever change is whether or not I have a willing audience.
Recently I had one of those life-affirming moments, thanks to a thirteen year old girl who’d read The Ferryman’s Wife. I’m always pleased when someone from my target audience enjoys my work, but nothing compares to when they show me their appreciation via letters or cards. This girl in particular wrote me a letter, in her own words, and added a review into the mix. Reading it brought a tear to my eye. It fills me with immense pleasure knowing that my readers are experiencing what I’d intended them to when I created the story. While I won’t share what she’s written (out of respect for her, as well as keeping my inspirations to myself) I will say that her praise was enough to spur me on to complete a difficult section of The Heart Thief. She may never know how much she has helped me, but I have so much to thank her for. The letter will remain in my possession forever, but what she’s actually given me is something of much greater significance. She’s given me reassurance, and that is priceless.
There are times when I have doubts about my writing, what writer doesn’t? Then again, there are those occasions when somebody does or says something about my work that reassures me that I must continue. No matter what happens, I’ll always write. I’m not sure there’s anyone who could stop me. They might be able to put a stopper in it for a spell, but the likelihood is the desire will fizz inside until it bursts forth from its containment. Writing is what I do. It’s what I’ve always done, and the only thing that will ever change is whether or not I have a willing audience.
Recently I had one of those life-affirming moments, thanks to a thirteen year old girl who’d read The Ferryman’s Wife. I’m always pleased when someone from my target audience enjoys my work, but nothing compares to when they show me their appreciation via letters or cards. This girl in particular wrote me a letter, in her own words, and added a review into the mix. Reading it brought a tear to my eye. It fills me with immense pleasure knowing that my readers are experiencing what I’d intended them to when I created the story. While I won’t share what she’s written (out of respect for her, as well as keeping my inspirations to myself) I will say that her praise was enough to spur me on to complete a difficult section of The Heart Thief. She may never know how much she has helped me, but I have so much to thank her for. The letter will remain in my possession forever, but what she’s actually given me is something of much greater significance. She’s given me reassurance, and that is priceless.
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