The Moment I Realized That Maybe – Maybe – I Was Talented: One day I was staring into space, thinking of what I’d accomplished in the last several years. I’d sold books to Red Dress Ink, Simon and Schuster, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, Random House, and Benbella. (Bloomsbury still lay in my future.) I’d sold books for adults, teens and children. (The only age groups I hadn’t sold for: babies and toddlers.) Those books had included comedy, drama, historical, contemporary, suspense, mystery, romance. (No Westerns or Sci-Fi/Fantasy yet.) And that’s when it hit me. I’d always only ever described my writing career as lucky. (You’ve seen me do that in these pages.) But if I could sell so many different books for so many different age groups to so many different publishers, and this despite the fact that I’d never had a bestseller and was hardly a household name, then maybe – just maybe – I was a little bit talented too? For the first time, I gave myself permission to allow for that possibility within the confines of my tiny little mind. And now I’ve said it here too.