I dedicate this post to the people who read, not just my books, but any books. All books. Without you, authors would be a mighty lonesome bunch.
Too often writers get caught up in fame games, buy into their own PR, and stop realizing they don't really matter as much as they think they do.

See, there are thousands of other writers out there who are eager to have somebody read their stories. When you come right down to it, I'm nobody. My stories matter. The words I write matter. But me? I'm the invisible woman.

A year or two ago, I read this on Amie Stuart's website, as part of her bio page.

Last but not least, I'm a storyteller and a writer, and I'm here to entertain you.

Yeah. Me too. I work for ya'll. I'd write the stories anyway because of all the voices in my head, but without you readers, they'd have nowhere to go. In the old days, they'd have drilled holes in my skull, trying to let the evil spirits out, so I'm lucky I live in more enlightened times.

I am beyond blessed because on a daily basis, I receive wonderful letters like those from Ginger, Jenny, Denise, Ann, Sara, Kelly, and many more. I wrote back to each of you because it means the world to me that you took the time out of your lives to tell me how my book made you feel. You didn't have to do that, but I'm so glad you did.

That's why I write. Not for reviews, or recognition, or even money, although my agent thinks we should get paid. I write for that one moment when I know I moved somebody; words I wrote made someone else laugh or cry. That's magical. And ya'll can snicker at me if you want to, but I get misty over those letters. I look at them with awe and disbelief. Who am I to be this lucky? To have people reading what I write? Well, I'm nobody, of course. The words are everything. Thank you for reading them.

Readers everywhere, I salute you.