I’m re-reading my novel THE COWBOY’S BABY this week, probably for the fifth or the sixth or the eighth time counting all the copy editing and proofreading I did in the beginning. And to my surprise, I like it. I’ve liked it each and every time, although this morning I discovered I used the word squashed instead of quashed (a problem a lot of other writers have, I’ve noticed) and wish I hadn’t.

This time I’m re-reading THE COWBOY’S BABY in order to create a bible of characters and settings for the sequel THE COWBOY’S BABY GOES TO HEAVEN. ( And yes, if you follow this blog you will know that I’ve already finished the first draft of  HEAVEN. I enjoy tackling things out of order.) I never planned on a sequel, but when it came time to start writing my novels for this year I saw people still buying and enjoying my first.

And now I’ll continue my title statement. If you won’t read your own books (or re-read them), how can you expect anyone else to? If nothing else, you touch base with who you used to be. And I know, some writers don’t have the time to do this. I’d expected to feel uncomfortable reading my own book; but while I can sometimes remember why I did this or how I did that or what I deleted and replaced in certain spots, mostly I’d just be enjoying the story if I wasn’t busy taking notes.

How about you? Do you ever go back and read the books you wrote? Do you still like them if you do?