On Monday, I hit the SEND button on my laptop, and my manuscript flew away. After three years and countless hours hunched over my desk, it was gone, winging its way to my agent and a fellow writer.
When I sat down to craft my first novel at 42, I never dreamed that eight years later, I would have completed my third. But I have. And I finished this one, tentatively titled THE FUNERAL DRESS, much as I did the first – sad that it was done.
Sure there are rewrites to do. But then I need to consider other’s perspectives, concerns, dislikes, likes, etc. And although there’s great good to come from that process, it will definitely be different for me and Emmalee, Nolan, Cynthia Faye, Leona, and the others from Cullen, Tennessee.
Family members have told me to take a break, rest for a while, do nothing. But I feel at a loss. My days are a little lonelier now, even though I have time to chat with friends and prepare for the Thanksgiving holiday.
Fortunately, there is another story begging for my attention, but I know I need to linger in this moment just a while longer, even if it is a bit uncomfortable. I need to say a proper goodbye to this process, this journey, that carried me over a mountain and delivered me into a world that I love.