If nobody’s going to read this, then why am I writing it?
Good question? But I’m not writing something new here just jotting down what’s already been composed. I’ve been working on this book for a decade now, and I spent a lot of time in my head arguing with imaginary readers such as yourself. Wait a minute. Are you imaginary? Take the lobe of your right ear in your right hand and pinch. If that hurts, then you’re not imaginary.
Are you gorgeous? I’m not gorgeous either. Just on the page, though, let’s all pretend to be gorgeous.
