The supremely fantastic Barry Lyga answers this question for us today: Did your publishing experience turn out as you expected?

Absolutely not. It would have been nearly impossible for it to have turned out as I expected, though. See, I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was about eight years old. When you spend the bulk of your life fantasizing about something — and when you’re blessed with a good imagination — it takes on a ridiculously inflated position in your mind. Reality can never match up. So, no: My first book did NOT sell ten billion copies. I did NOT win the Pulitzer and the Nobel in the same year. My book did NOT spontaneously cure cancer, acne, and halitosis in those who read it. I did NOT instantly become a household name from here to Senegal and back.

All that said, the experience actually ended up being BETTER than I ever dreamed or anticipated. If you look at the (oh-so-slightly) tongue-in-cheek “disappointments” above, you’ll notice that they’re pretty much about me, about what my writing could do or mean for me.

Here in the real world, though, I’ve learned that the best part of a writing career is what means to OTHER people: The e-mails I’ve gotten from teachers who tell me that students have learned the joy of reading thanks to my books. The letters from kids who read them and feel compelled to contact me. The parents who read them along with their kids and bonded. The very special girl who e-mailed to tell me that reading BOY TOY helped her to understand her boyfriend, who had been molested as a child.

I always knew that my work meant something to me, but I never in a million years could have imagined that the words I write all alone in my office could mean something to people I’ve never met. And that’s the best part of publishing — touching the lives of people you’ll never even know.