Approximately two minutes ago, I sent the final draft of my second novel off to the publisher. PHEW!!!
Let me say that one more time. It really feels great.
This book and I have lived together for two years. There are fragments of the story scattered all over my life, appearing at odd moments like real memories. I’m starting to look back on it as if it happened to me, as if I were in it instead of writing it. I can’t proofread the text any more. I can hardly see the words on the page because they are almost committed to memory. I look right through the words to the people and places they describe.
So now, it’s time to say goodbye. The book is on its way, by invitation, to a capable and generous writing friend who started his own publishing company. By the end of this summer, it should be available in paperback, Kindle, and Nook formats.
All of which is like opening the front door of my house and watching a group of well-loved guests walk down the drive to the street, on their way to whatever comes next.