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 publisherís Inbox as if there was nothing to it.
While some have asked if I was elated or relieved, Iím honestly not sure. Perhaps both but mostly Iím still a bit numb. One thing I do know, Iím not naÔve.
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; Iím sure what lies ahead will be as challenging. Iíve written enough to know that my immediate future includes an editor, pen in hand, ready to write red-font comments over my virtual pages. Itís a given because every writer needs a good editor and good editors finds mistakes. Iíd like to think that whoever dissects my work will find nothing but as I said earlier, Iím not naÔve.
What Iím 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 companyís 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: ďI will praise the Lord according to His righteousness [not according to my feelings]Ē Psalm 7:17 (Wegner paraphrase)
Thank you, all my friends! Thank you, Lord!