Thursday, September 6, 2007

letting it go

i was up until one in the morning again, printing out another FINAL version of the manuscript. yeah, yeah, you've read me say that before, and i know even as i type that word, this might not be the final FINAL manuscript...the one that gets sent to jenn... i promised don he could have one more read-through.

sometimes don's relationship to my writing makes me realize you really do have to be careful what you wish for. when i was married before to a horrible man who didn't appreciate my writing, i wished fervently for someone who would. don is everything a writer could want in a life partner but sometimes he forgets the story decisions are ultimately mine. but he cares so much and has such an amazing eye for detail and has such a finely nuanced appreciation for the sound of language... the editor in me can't resist giving him another go.

so there it sits, on the blue-tile table, in all its pristine glory, gleaming white pages, shiny black ink, a Story that wasn't there until i made it up, my own little miracle of creation, the Word made Paper, if not flesh. i brush the top page with my fingertips, straighten all the pages in a pile. i gently ease and smooth, touch and brush with all the flutter of a newborn's mother.

the pages of the previous drafts are piled on my altar, waiting to be burned at the equinox as an offering of thanksgiving for this Harvest, and a prayer that this Story shine in the world like a fire in the night.








1 comment:

Bookwormom said...

Stopping by to try and catch up with your last several posts.

I admire your dedication to your craft - getting up at 3 am to work. The fox and the peepers would certainly help me along. Do you have a working title? Approximate date it might be pubbed? I apologize if I've missed some of this info, I likely need to read your posts more deeply.

I hope your grandmother is ok. Daily during the course of my job I watch busy adults caring for their elder family members. Sometimes they're frazzled and sometimes they're calm and collected but the love and concern underlies it all.

The sandwich generation I believe they are called. Plenty of pressures from all sides, not enough filling to go around.