Once upon a time, I wrote with my family members in mind. I considered what they would want to read or not read, so I left some things out of my books and added others in that I thought might please them. But there was something missing in those books, and I never could get as excited about them as I am about the books I write now. Don't get me wrong. I do like those books. But I don't feel that burning passion for them.
The fact that my family turned out to not care about the books I was...
Published on January 24, 2010 10:26