I can now die happy.
From the moment I first knew I wanted to be a writer (around age 8), I dreamed of my words in printed form, in someone else’s hands to read. I wanted to be on the shelf at the library or stacked in the bookstore.
This certainly isn’t the first time I’ve been in print. Starting with a summer job for the Intermountain Express (a local weekly newspaper in rural New York) going through my first published book, “dBASE 5 for Windows Quick & Easy,” and on to numerous magazine articles, my words have appeared on paper many times before.
This is a different kind of thrill, however, and it’s only partially tainted by the fact that I had to act not only as author and editor but also as publisher. The taint is easier to take because I know that, without this option, my words would continue to languish, locked in their word-processing files, inaccessible to any eyes but mine.
Take your pick. I’ll be happy either way.