I waited
and waited
and waited...
no one came. I finally gave up and started packing when I saw a woman weaving through the aisle clutching the book like a treasure to be guarded
"I am so glad I didn't miss you... your book has helped me through one of the worst years of my life"
I really didn't know what to say, but listened to her story. It was sad and beautiful at the same time.
In that very moment I learned that if she was the only person ever to buy that book... my work was complete.
Writing, at least in this genre, is not a number's game. Your book matters, and will probably matter greatly to that "one person"
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