For Writers: The Ultimate Reward

What do you picture when you dream about yourseemed we'd never see our friend on the walking
book's success? Do you envision readers stoppingtrails again. We worried when her mother was
you in the grocery store with stars in their eyes?admitted to the hospital. Up and down, her progress
Getting on Oprah? Seeing your book in the frontseemed to change like the December wind that
window of your local Borders?skittered across the parking lots at work.
Or maybe you dream of your book riding at the topJudy was absent a few days, then a few more.
of the NY Times bestseller's list for months at aSomething felt wrong.
time? How about dining with Dean Koontz and hisThen came the dreaded email. The subject line
dog, Trixie? Of course, this repast would be followedalways seems to say the same thing. "Sad News."
by a glowing, personal endorsement of your worksJudy's mom had passed away, released from her
by Trixie, and if you're lucky, maybe Mr. Koontzearthly bonds and finally free to float among the
himself.angels.
Am I close?When Judy returned to work a week later, she
Are you being honest?shared stories about her mother's final days. One of
Over the years I've pictured several of thesethem surprised me greatly, and fundamentally
dazzling dreams happening to me. Including achanged my definition of success.
multi-million dollar movie deal in which Harrison FordJudy read to her mother during her final stay in the
plays Gus LeGarde. And of course, the world wouldhospital. For hours on end. She happened to have my
fall in love with the LeGarde family and beg for moresecond book, Upstaged, handy and began to read to
each year.her during her responsive times. Sometimes her
I imagined quitting my engineering job, staying homemother would just lie there with her eyes closed, and
to write, making enough money to pay down theJudy didn't know if she was listening. Frequently,
debt and take care of long needed repairs, like theshe'd ask, "Do you want me to continue reading,
twenty-six windows that shake and rattle every timeMom?" Her mother would respond. A nod or a short
the wind blows.word.
I envisioned copies of my books in everyone's home"Yes.
library. Worldwide, mind you. Not just in the States.A nurse perched behind Judy and became involved in
Lots of dreams. Big dreams. And all revolved aroundthe story, too. So Judy would continue reading aloud,
the traditional definition of success.giving comfort to her mother and providing a little
Recognition. Adulation. Confirmation that my work isarmchair escapism to her nurse. Solace came from
valued. And enough money to take care of a smallthe tentative loving voice of her daughter, close and
country.warm. And she was reading my words.
A few weeks ago something happened that changedIt floored me.
all that.In a flash, I realized if one woman could be
Judy, one of my lunchtime walking partners, hadcomforted on her deathbed by my books - I'd
been canceling walks and working through lunch toalready reached the definitive pinnacle of success.
make extra time to care for her elderly mother. WeYou'll never know how your stories will affect the
all admired her, watching as she shopped for herworld. Not until it happens. So keep writing and
mom, took her to numerous doctors' appointments,imagine the best. Not the money, not the fame, not
and tended to her increasing needs with fortitudethe ability to quit that day job. Imagine affecting one
and devotion. She was one of five siblings, but tooksolitary soul in their final moments on this earth, and
the bulk of the responsibility on her shoulders.you'll have pictured... the ultimate reward.
The cancellations increased in frequency, and it