I finished my second edition of the second Shadows book a while back and finally got a few printed editions and a number digital ones out to people I trust. Including a printed copy to a very important, trusted,and loved person.
My husband.
Over the past week I've been going through checking up on the people who have copies to discover that NO one is reading it.
This afternoon I walked into my husbands office hoping that he would have, at least, made an attempt, or cracked the cover.
Nope.
It's on his desk, with half a foot of crap  piled on it. The parts of the cover that can be seen are covered in a fine layer of dust.
He hasn't touched it.
No one has.
So I have to wonder what the point is?
This is my life's passion, literally the only thing I have ever wanted to do in my lifetime.
And maybe all the time and effort I've poured into this career have been waisted. Maybe I should have been focused on something else. Maybe then I wouldn't be in a dead end job in a town where Friday nights mean multiple stabbings.
I feel sick.
And just the slightest bit like I don't know who I am anymore.