Selling books is my day job.  Working in a bookstore for more than a decade I have watched hundreds, maybe thousands – of books launch into the world.  A scant handful will find a regular spot on the bookstore’s shelves, but more will spend only a month or two (the lucky ones), cover faced out to the world. Maybe then they will have a chance to snag the readers wandering the tables and shelves.  The really lucky one’s will get a review, maybe even a rave that will spike interest and sales. Still, even seeing this – I wrote a book.  Two years ago, I began waking up at 5 AM to write for about an hour before going to work. This is the only time in my house for solitude and quiet.  At first it was hard to wake so early, but soon, my story rather than the alarm got me up each day.  That’s what I wrote: my story.  Doing so became a kind of therapy, a way of looking at the world anew each day. By recalling, examining and telling the darkness, the light has become all the sweeter.

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