I labored under a delusion for years that writing was precious, unique, and important. That my worlds were somehow glimpses into something Great and Beyond, and that my abilities as a writer would someday inspire awe and adoration. In those years, I didn’t write very well, and I didn’t write very much; I also never considered all that went in to actually getting a book published. I had a kind of distant understanding that eventually I’d have to actually share what I did, and that likely to get something to the masses, that would require, you know, time and publicity and all that (something I’m just starting to consider now).…