It is what it is...
When I submitted the Slick Rock Creek manuscript to my former publisher in the UK, she said it was "another rambling tale about mountain folk that only other mountain folk will buy." She wanted changes that would have made it entirely another story.
After a year, I found another publisher, one here in the U. S., and the book came out in a form I could recognize. Rosemary in Yorkshire may have been right. The novel hasn't sold fifty copies in the two months it has been loose in the world.
Still, although I might wish it had been edited a little more closely, it is essentially the story I wanted to write, about a place as much as about people. Judging by the reviews I've seen, and the feedback I've received from readers, the few who have read it, liked it right well.
I'd rather please a few readers with what came from heart, than make a pile of money with a borrowed tale. I'd rather be a good and honest writer rather than a pandering and rich one. I'd rather write true and deep in obscurity than have the taste of shallow fame in my mouth every day.
Of course, if a lot of people did buy my book, I would be elated. That isn't likely to happen at this point, but I am still happy to have written it, and grateful for those of you who took time to read it.