The Best Thing

I write YAs as Liza Conrad, and consequently, I sometimes go to schools to talk about being a novelist. I usually open with a question: "What do you think is my favorite thing about being a novelist?"
I get some great answers.
Being famous.
Umm . . . no. Last I checked I can walk down the street without fear of being mobbed by fans (though I am, oddly enough, occasionally asked to sign a book, which is cool). Nope. I'm not famous.
Being rich.
Umm . . . most especially not. Even if I was making Stephen King money, which I'm not, and even though I am well-paid, I have four kids and a leaky roof. A disobedient, FAT, well-fed dog, a bird with expensive taste in bird food. Rich, I am not.
Booksignings!
Nope. Not that either. In fact, sometimes they're awkward. Occasionally they are fun. Usually my coffee mug is filled with wine to make the time pass. Sort of kidding about that last comment.
What then?
I get to work in my pjs. Personally, I think that is the coolest thing in the world. I get to sit in a chair and make stuff up for a living. That's what I tell them.
But lately, I have a new answer.
In October, in time for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Red Dress Ink released Do They Wear High Heels in Heaven. It's about a woman with breast cancer and her best friend, a gay writer. At first, I was worried that the depiction of a mature gay relationship (not the "Jack"-type character from "Will and Grace") would bring me hate mail. Then, who knows, maybe Brokeback Mountain seeped into enough of the collective unconscious. I got one or two negative comments, and one review I found narrow-minded and offensive, but no hate mail. What I have gotten, daily, weekly, for the months this book has been out, are emails from people from all walks of life. Gay, straight, old, young, teens, and grandmas. All saying the book touched them. It reminded them to celebrate the life of someone they loved who died of cancer. The humor in the book (because I do think your humor is sharpened when death comes knocking) made them laugh and remember some poignant moments. I heard from gay men who applauded a gay relationship being depicted in a loving way. I heard from way too many women who lost friends and sisters to breast cancer. But they all shared. Some mornings, after my webmaster forwarded me emails, I would cry in my coffee. For real. I felt it such a privilege to get to know all these people who have passed on and who are still loved and remembered. I felt honored that people would be so touched by a book they would write me.
So now, I have decided, as I have written back to each and every person who wrote me . . . and sometimes that's kept my fingers typing for quite a while each day, that THAT is the best part of being a novelist. I wrote something that touched people. I shared with them. They shared with me. So to all of you . . . thanks.