I am doing a final read-through of my book (The Trailer Park Rules) which I left alone long enough that I’d forgotten a lot of details. The gratification I felt when reading a particular scene I believe I nailed, made me cry. I’m so proud of this work, and I’ll be proud of it even if it makes me a pittance, which is the likely outcome. *I* know it’s good. There are thousands of good books out there that don’t make any waves and mine will probably be the same. But I’m still going to keep writing.