Yesterday I had a brief conversation that got me thinking. I mentioned that I'm accustomed to doing everything on my own because I don't have much in the way of a "support system". I have no family, no love interest, no kids, and my best friends at home have no interest in my projects, events, or writings.
Every now and then someone will tell me they've read one of my books, and that's where the discussion almost always ends. Nine times out of ten there is no additional comment such as "I enjoyed it" or even "hey, at least you tried." Just "I read it." And then they move on to the next topic.
Last year, someone who went on a walk-in-the-footsteps-of-the-characters trip associated with one of my book series told me during the trip she didn't like my books. I was stunned and wondered why she elected to go on the trip.
My passion project that will ultimately be my opus has even less of a draw. I have never claimed to be a spectacular novelist, but I do believe my whimsical fantasy series has enough merit to justify a thumbs-up now and again. I can't begin to say how thankful I am that my editor has had the grace and fortitude to stick with me. (You're a godsend, Cindy Freeman.)
I am now 13 novellas into my 49-novella series, and while the saga has yet to find its audience, I know in my heart there will be one person cheering on the characters through thick and thin, and taking the time to tell me how the story affects her. People like that are a gift. Although I have never met this long-distance peach of a friend in person, I want to say how infinitely grateful I am for nearly a decade of online friendship with her.
And so, in closing, I must ask the all-important question: Sanndi Thompson, will you be my Valentine?