Last night, I got an interesting piece of information. The wonderful human being reading and critiquing my work (the first that is neither friend nor family) is a professional editor loaning me her time. I can't believe it. Does this mean my work is worth a damn?
This came up when I asked about her maybe reading my other novel, the six-year-old baby that will lead to the series I've been working on for a long, long time. She revealed her day job and I couldn't wrap my head around it. She seems to really like my work, which is phenomenal. Does this mean my work might someday see print? I have always had hopes for myself, not in an arrogant way, but in a hopeful way.
Knowing someone out there thinks my book is good (especially someone who doesn't love me and is in the literary world) only makes me want to work harder. I love being writer. I've never wanted to be anything else, not really. Its my center, my therapy, my thing.
So, on to the next chapter, since I'm feeling inspired this morning.