Too bad we can’t skip to the last chapter and take a peek!

It’s funny. When I come here to write lately, I just can’t seem to think of anything amazingly insightful or interesting to say. Some smart aleck is probably thinking, “When did you ever say anything insightful or interesting?” All I have to say to that is, um, . . . nothing. Yeah. I’m pretty out of it.

BUT! The good news is I am making splendiforous progress on my book. Twenty chapters finished. All I have left is the Epilogue and two “bonus” sections. Appendixes. Appendices. Whatever. They contain must-have info, but they’re not part of the narrative. So . . . guess what this means? My family is going to have to read it soon. None of them have wanted to so far. And it’s not because they don’t like my writing. It’s because they know their hearts are going to break all over again.

I understand. Mine broke over and over as I wrote it. And it still breaks when I edit some parts, even though I’ve re-re-rewritten them who-knows-how-many times now. Some wounds will always remain tender to the slightest touch. But it can’t be helped. My family has to read it, because it’s their story, too, and must have their seal of approval.

I’m happy that I’m nearing the end of this particular writing adventure. But I know, in some ways, the real adventure is only beginning. Like a change in the wind . . . a certain scent in the air . . . something lies just around the corner, and the breezes are already ruffling my hair and stirring my blood. Yep. It’s coming. I’ve only heard whispered hints and seen flickering glimpses of what it is. But I know its coming is as certain as the ending of a story written long ago. This book–and everything it’s setting in motion–is part of something outside of me. I’m just being carried along on this ride. But I promise I’ll let you know where I end up.