I’m behind…like waaaay behind. I don’t know how this keeps happening. Life just gets in the way of this little blog sometimes. I apologize. I’m here now, though.
Coming in the next few days in my blogging world:
Our Anniversary Celebration
Memorial Day Celebration [would you believe me if I told you my parents drove 7 hours to ATL and 7 hours back to RAL all in one day just to surprise us? Well, they did. And it made my life. Parents: they always show up when we need them most, huh?]
And a recipe for some delicious homemade chicken and mushroom Alfredo pasta [not to be confused with Fettuccine Alfredo]
But tonight? Tonight I come to you with a hopeful heart. Part of this weekend involved spending time with my oldest big sister. She and I don’t see much of each other, but we share a love for the English language and all things written. She was the one person I was most afraid to show a few chapters of my book to. Why? She’s an editor. My biggest writing plague? My grammar and punctuation. I was terrified she was going to return my pages bleeding red. Don’t get me wrong, my sister loves me and she’s one of my biggest writing supporters, but she’s honest. And I need honesty.
This all took place a while ago. It was before Mr. Husband and I were married, so that gives you some perspective. But we got to talking about it yesterday.
So what’s going on with your book, she asked me.
It’s sitting in my closet.
Truth be told. I’m terrified of the next step. The book is finished. The story is completed. But to me, the writing won’t ever be finished. There will always be something I see that needs to be fixed. There will always be better ideas. I’m scared to do something with it and then have a new, better idea born. She said something to me that made a lot of sense.
What’s the worst that can happen? Someone won’t publish it? It’s not getting published sitting in your closet, right?
Right. She’s right. But that leap is just so dag-gone hard. Everyone has to start somewhere, though. Right? Tell me she’s right. Tell me I should do something with the two-hundred some-odd pages sitting, collecting dust in my husband’s closet. Tell me to jump.
Here it is, in all it’s glory. [this photo was taken last year the day I started my edits.]