The Writer's Life: Is Anybody Out There?

One thing I have learned since my novel came out this fall is just how loud the silence can be. Unlike performers, like singers and actors, whose praise or scorn is immediate, the author is isolated from her audience. We are more like painters and sculptors I suppose, wondering what those who stand in front of our work are thinking? Though I also suppose those graphic artists can go to the gallery or stand in the park and eavesdrop on people commenting. At least the author has a theoretically unlimited potential audience, while the single painting or sculpture may wind up in some one's home and thus hidden from view.

Do other authors yearn for the response I do? Today I took a couple of copies of my book to Half Price Books and sold them. I only got five bucks each -- they cost me about nine dollars. With this particular book, An Involuntary King, I just want the most possible people to read it. Future books will be more for the few dollars I can get. I think what happened at the store was well worth the loss. I got attention, affirmation. The man, a true book lover, admired my cover, saying it was a really great one. Both he and his assistant were intrigued by title. I was in hog heaven.

I imagine myself sometimes sitting in a tall tower with my computer, looking out over a deserted landscape as far as the eye can see. A small chime sounds and I rush to the desk to see the email that just came in. Writer's Digest want s me to take one of their webinars.. or maybe someone wants to sell me some prescription drugs. Back to the window I go to wait for the next email... which just might be someone who read my book, maybe. Could happen. It will. I promise. Surely.