I felt like I wasn’t a real author. It was bad enough to have to deal with the stigma of self-publishing (also a topic for another time), there was also the fact that anyone who’d look me up on Amazon and other retailers would not find a backlist. I had no readers of my own (except for my family and some friends) and I was merely riding the coattails of an established author. But to have a backlist, and to be taken seriously, especially in the fantasy genre, I needed a novel.

Did I write a novel? No. I couldn’t, remember?

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