122 Pages

I don’t usually check my KENP page reads obsessively; especially since both books only just went on Kindle Unlimited recently. Most days I don’t check them at all. But this week something pulled me to look, and there it was…122 pages read of The Enigma on Kindle Unlimited.

Someone, somewhere, is in the middle of this book right now.

I don’t know who they are. I don’t know if they found it through the con, through a friend’s recommendation, through the algorithm finally noticing it exists. I don’t know if they’re curled up somewhere reading slowly or racing through on a lunch break. I only know the number, and the number is real, and someone is currently living inside a world I made.

That stopped me for a moment.

The number itself

I’ll admit, the numerology girl in me couldn’t let 122 pass without looking it up.

What I found felt almost too fitting, 122 is associated with new beginnings supported by partnership; not a solo venture, but something built alongside others. It speaks to balance between action and patience, to trusting that the timing of the universe is working in your favor even when nothing visible seems to be happening. It’s described as a quiet reassurance that a threshold is near, even when the work ahead still feels real and unfinished.

I’m not going to pretend I have everything figured out about what’s coming next for this series. Sales some weeks feel steady, other weeks feel quiet enough to make me wonder if anyone is finding their way to these books at all.

…and then I see 122 pages, and I remember that the quiet weeks are not empty. They are just quiet.

What patience actually requires

There’s a version of building something that looks like constant visible momentum - sales charts climbing, reviews pouring in, every metric trending upward in a straight line. That has not been my experience, and I suspect it isn’t most people’s experience, no matter how curated the highlight reel looks from the outside.

What I’m learning instead is that the real work often looks like nothing at all from the outside. A page count quietly climbing on someone’s Kindle. A query sitting in an agent’s inbox, unanswered, for now. Something moving forward at its own pace, regardless of how ready I am for it to finish.

122 pages doesn’t look like much. But it’s real. It’s proof that the story is doing exactly what it was always meant to do, finding the person it was written for, one page at a time, whether or not I’m watching.

For the woman reading this

If you’re in a season where the progress feels invisible, where you can’t point to the metrics that would prove anything is happening, I’d gently offer this: the page count is still climbing. Somewhere, quietly, without your permission or your awareness, something is moving forward.

Trust the timing. Keep showing up for the parts you can control. Let the rest unfold the way it’s meant to.

122 pages. Someone is reading right now.

That’s enough for today.