Things to Ponder

I've just gotten over a nasty and annoyingly uncomfortable stomach sickness, one of those kinds where no matter how you twist or bend you can't quite get comfortable. Anyway, some friends of ours came over the other night to have dinner, but Karen, who is a published author, was wanting to talk to me about my writing. It was a very long night but filled with great conversation -and a few tears on my part- and I was able to learn a lot, even in those few hours. Yet still these thoughts haunt me. What if nobody like my writing? What if I can't support myself? It terrifies me to chew on these thoughts, though I know I can't ignore them. They're like the IRS.
One question Karen asked me, one I had kind of expected, was who my audience was. Who am I writing for? I told her, as I tell pretty much everyone, that I am my audience. I write for me, things I would want to read. But then she hinted to something interesting, that so many books which are deemed "great books" were usually meant for a specific person. And honestly I can't recall ever turning to the first page and seeing something like, "I dedicate this book to myself, without whom it would never have been written. Thank you, Self." So as I write, I try to think, who is this for? Is it for my parents, my best friend, my niece, my brother? I don't know.
Another thing Karen suggested, which has helped with her books, is using personal experiences. Here is where the tears started and I won't say why, but for some reason I feel uncomfortable using my experiences. It's like broadcasting a page in a diary to the entire world, too personal. I wonder if it's something I have to get over. I can't see many experiences worth writing about, but maybe it is because I am too familiar with them. I've danced at the same studio since I was five and there have definitely been some crazy times there, but they seem to be the things only people at the studio would understand. We clap and groan when this particular person goes down the floor because her poise is so evident that it's impossible for her to look bad doing something. And another person, we say she has "magic taps" because her tap shoes make a nice, clean, crisp sound, not the dragging metal against wood most everyone else is used to. But these are things I've grown up with, things I'm accustomed to, the sounds and the people. How can I incorporate that so others will understand or see the irony?
Most of my immediate family is in or has been in the medical field, and trust me, you would not believe some of the stories they'll bring home. Still, these stories seem only funny to us because of how they relate to some other event or movie or quote we all recognize. I guess it's just something I have to pray about. Lord, help me get passed this... funk. Please guide me.

-Grace