Cuddles on the Side

I haven't been posting lately because I made the decision that I have GOT to finish this book.  I've spent the last five months planning and working on structure and waiting for feedback.  I was beginning to feel like the heartbeat of the story was slipping away from me.

So, everyday I try to write at least five (but some days I get in 10) new pages and I send them to an amazing friend who sends back line item edits and she lets me know when certain sections make absolutely no sense.  On any given day I may have 10 new pages to write, 10 pages to edit from the first round of notes, and more pages to edit from the second round of notes.

This friend is moving across the country in a few weeks and I know that she's working through the night to help me.  There are no words for my gratitude.

Thankfully, some solid readers are coming out of the woodwork - people who embrace this work, get it, and like the friend mentioned above are willing to find space in their own busy lives to read my stuff and get me some feedback.  I don't know how people write entire books on their own.  It's like getting lost in a maze, sometimes, I just need a fresh set of eyes to help me see what is obviously not working and what is amazingly possible

I can say with certainty that there will be a solid draft of this book by the end of summer.  I'm trying to maintain my sanity by keeping up with my fitness so that the joy of reaching my goal isn't overshadowed by feeling like I have to get back in shape again. But when I'm tired and I know that I'll be at Starbucks before the early rising Arizona sun comes up, all that I want is a mug of rich, hot chocolate with added half-and-half.  For now when I feel that way I'm grabbing my running shoes and squeezing in a few miles, but who knows before this is done I might be grabbing my sandals and heading to the Safeway by my house because they have the best chocolate glazed donuts in the world.  Seriously.  They are the absolute best.

Needless to say, I am exhausted and bone tired.  Today I was trying to confirm the content of an interview I'd transcribed months ago and every time I leaned in close to listen I was interrupted by something like this:

"Mom, look I found an inchworm.  It's feet are sticky.  Would you like to hold it."

"That's so neat, that the feet are sticky, but no, sweetheart, Mommy doesn't want to hold your inchworm."

It takes me a few seconds to find my place again and capture my rhythm and then:

"Mom, if you want to hold my inchworm let me know because he sure is wiggly."

"Thanks, babe.  If I decide to hold him I'll let you know."

This goes on until finally I am holding a yucky inchworm in my palm.  I try to hand it back to my smiling child who is delighted to be teaching his squirmy mommy how to hold bugs.  "You can hold it for longer if you want mom."

"Thanks, babe."