This One Goes Out to the Ones I Love

Just sent my agent my manuscript. "Just" as in 2 seconds ago. It's off my desk and on its electronic way to being on hers. That makes me happy. That makes me freaked out. That makes me insecure. That makes my IBS and racing heart go nuts (TMI?). That makes me feel accomplished. That makes me feel like a giant fraud - like I think I can pull off writing a book, ha! That makes me excited for everyone in the whole entire world to one day read it. That makes me want to DIE if anyone at ALL ever considers reading it!

Your basic head case.

After YEARS of having this book rattle around in my brain and make me all but pre-occupied and unable to do anything else, I FINALLY decided it just needed to get "out." However "out" turns out to be. If nothing else, it tells the story of our little family and the transformations in all of us as a result of the wisdom born of having Plan A turn into Plan B. At least from my perspective. Someday my grandchildren can dig it out of a box in the basement and argue over who gets stuck with it.

Rosie Thomas' song, "The One I Love," is in my ears and on my brain, both on a loop. This, ultimately, is my greatest wish for the book, my greatest hope, my greatest prayer. "Let this book go out to the one(s) I love. Mary, carry this book and place it into the hands of whomever needs to read it, for whatever reason (perhaps just to feel better about their own abilities as a writer - Shakespeare, it ain't).

Whatever may be, may be - let it be.

Amen.