(This is a re-post from years ago. I don’t offer it up because I couldn’t think of anything new to write. With my novel launching this week on September 20th, this post gives me comfort. Come what may, whether my books sales or not, I am loved.)

You might think I’m weird for posting a picture of my feet.  I’m mean, let’s face it, they’re not model worthy.  But for me, this picture stands as a reminder that I have not, and will not, accomplished my goals as a writer alone.

The nail polish you see on my toes, I did not do.  It was the night before my scheduled photo-shoot with Kelsi.  I planned to use these photos to promote my very public—anyone can have access to—website and facebook fan page.  To say I was freaking out is an understatement.

At about 9:30pm, I decided my toenails had to be painted.  The perfect photos I hoped for just wouldn’t be perfect without it.  Thinking it would only take a few minutes, I chose a color from my six-year-old-daughter’s stash, since I don’t own any nail polish myself—which should have been my first clue that this was going to be a disaster.

After ten minutes of sitting on the bathtub rim cursing my shaky fingers, in walks my husband.  He took one look at the smeared hot-pink mess on my toenails and said, “sit on the counter.”

After removing my failed attempt with nail polish remover, my sweet farm boy, who has no sisters by-the-way, knelt at my dangling feet and proceeded to coat my toenails in a much better color than the one I had first chosen.  And not just one coat, but three.  This is probably why my daughter only likes daddy to do her nails.  My toes were perfect when he finished.

There have been many times in this writing endeavor of mine, when others have assisted me when I needed it most.  The members of the Henderson Writers Group, who told me the first draft of my novel “sucked”, but then gave me the tools to make it better.  The beta readers whose excitement for book two, and three helped me push through the pain of every rejection I received until my debut novel “Rory’s Choice” finally sold.  And many more.  Even you, who are reading this now, give me the strength to continue every time someone rolls their eyes and says, “Oh…you’re a writer.”  I can and will succeed, because I’m not an island—none of us are.

Thank you for taking part in this journey with me.  I hope each of you will take a moment today to recognize and thank those that support you.