After I published my book, I decided to donate a copy to my local library, mostly because why not and also I had just started working there and it seemed like a fun idea. So into circulation it went, a news article was written and eventually it was checked out by its first patron.
The first to read it was a sweet elderly woman who loves supporting locals and will read anything written by them (perks of working the front desk she returned it to me and told me all of this herself.)
When she returned my book it printed a slip to transfer it to another library because there was another hold on it. And just like that it was off traveling the library system.
When I started writing it really just was for me and I published for myself too. I am overjoyed with the support and the those who have purchased it. I am not one to beg for reviews so to my knowledge those do not even exist.
But the hardest part is not the lack of reviews or thoughts that people might hate it. It’s the knowing it is being read, which was the purpose but it’s the knowing that my imperfection is on display and openly allowing others into my head. It’s intimate and intimidating and I literally never considered this part of writing a book.
I digress, this was just a sappy post to say my book is being transferred around the state for others to read and hopefully take something helpful away from.
