There are mileposts in every writer’s career, I suppose. Getting an agent. Getting a publisher. Getting that first book into stores and into readers’ hands. I could go on and on, because a writer’s career is simply a journey, and although every journey doesn’t have an identifiable destination, it seems to me they all must have moments that mark progress.
So here’s a recent one for me: According to my publisher, sometime in the past few weeks, I sold my one-millionth novel. Bells didn’t chime. No fireworks. I didn’t even pop a cork on a bottle of champagne. In the grand scheme, it’s probably not much. But for a guy who began by wanting only to write a story good enough that someone might actually want to read it, well, this is a pretty big deal. And also, it’s an opportunity to say thank you to all of you out there who bought one of my books (or two or three) and made this milestone possible. We all need friends on our journeys, and I’m so glad to have you with me.