This is the hardest thing as a writer. You want to write and love to write, but no one is finding your work. It can seem like a very lonely road in the beginning.
When I first started writing, I really didn’t have an audience. For the most part, writing was my therapy. I was in a waiting period for a job that seemed like would never come, and a friend of mine suggested I write and self-publish my books while I was waiting. He said, “If you sell a few, at least that’s a little bit for your effort, but in the meantime, you keep your mind on something other than worrying.”
He was right, of course, and I’m sure he’d throw that in my face now. I was obsessing over finding a teaching job and with nothing available, I was quickly spiraling in my worry. Writing gave me an outlet for my mind, and I kept it up long after.
That was 2012.
It is now 2026, and I’m still searching my perfect audience, and because I want to be true to myself, I’ve come back to what I wanted in the beginning, before 2012, because I was writing long before that. I’ve gone back to my roots and in search of my readers.
While my students still enjoy my stories, I’ll keep writing at least one a year, but for the most part, I’ll write the thriller and sweet romances I’ve always enjoyed writing while waiting on my perfect audience.
