I write for the enjoyment of my readers. Period.
To spend hundreds of hours in creating a novel and not have it read by another person is, to put it simply, a travesty and a colossal waste of time. At the other end of the pole, to have it read and enjoyed by one person is not only exhilarating, but also makes the task worthwhile. To create joy in the life of just a single individual is in itself a reason to celebrate.
When I write a novel, I undertake a formidable mission of gripping the reader’s imagination and transporting it to experience times, places and events that know no bounds. The reader becomes immersed in a world that is not only a figment of my imagination, but also that of the reader. In this surreal world of not only what was but also what could have been, the reader loses self in feelings of sensuality, passion, love, fear, morality, ethics, religiosity, and the like, and becomes deeply involved in both the experiences of the mind and of the heart.