As I move toward publication, the biggest difficulty is the doubt. I spend a lot of time second guessing the choices I've made, worrying that my work won't be engaging, or that I simply won't break through and absolutely no one will read my books.

No one.

Not even my cats.

Which is ridiculous, of course. At minimum, I can always read the books to my cats.

In a moment of despair, I told my friend Marni that I would be happy if I managed to sell even 20 copies of Spooked.

"Really?," she asked.

"Twenty!," I insisted.

So Marni made me do the one thing that she feels will ensure we laugh about all this later: she made me write it down.

Yep. There it is. "Sell 20 copies." But once I wrote it down, it looked so pathetic, I decided to set a few further goals, sort of like gates. Pass through a gate, prove to myself that even my lowest expectations were achievable. Pass through them all?

Prove that there's a difference between setting reasonable expectations, and giving in to the terrible, hateful, doubt-filled voice in your head that is always trying to make sure you fail.