A couple of days ago I breathed a big sigh then headed out for a therapeutic massage. Every muscle in my back and shoulders ached but it was finished. The book was written.
After several years of planning and months of writing, I pushed the Send button and whoosh, my manuscript moved from my computer to my publisher's Inbox as if there was nothing to it.
While some have asked if I was elated or relieved, I'm honestly not sure. Perhaps both but mostly I'm still a bit numb. One thing I do know, I'm not na茂ve.
While gathering material for the content, choosing and discarding title possibilities and gaining permission to quote previously published material took the better part of the last nine months; I'm sure what lies ahead will be as challenging. I've written enough to know that my immediate future includes an editor, pen in hand, ready to write red-font comments over my virtual pages. It's a given because every writer needs a good editor and good editors finds mistakes. I'd like to think that whoever dissects my work will find nothing but as I said earlier, I'm not na茂ve.
What I'm finding most difficult is the task of limiting the names of those people who encouraged me to a single page of acknowledgements. How do I thank them for their role in my personal life and in my company's success? Nor dare I forget those who have been less than positive because through their influence I have been enabled to rise to higher heights of thanksgiving, that of giving thanks in spite of how I felt.
The Psalmist David got it right when he said: "I will praise the Lord according to His righteousness [not according to my feelings]" Psalm 7:17 (Wegner paraphrase)
Thank you, all my friends! Thank you, Lord!
