One night I decided to write a book...just for me. It was sort of like a diary. I wrote in my book about being in the hospital with my daughter when she was sick; how I met and married my husband; what it was like when he cheated on me with my sister. You know, regular everyday stuff. I also wrote how I managed to escape my abusive father, raise the children that I had by him and testify in court about what he did to me as a child. Yeah, that was one night. On another night I decided to publish the book that was sort of like a diary. And on that night, like many want to be authors, I...