July 8, 2008 § 2 Comments
A week ago Monday, I handed in my book manuscript. It is not the typical book, nor was it a typical assignment. In fact, the project came to me by way of … luck … one degree of separation from someone working at a religious press… who knew I am a writer …who (somehow) trusted me.
The book, to be a collection of originally written prayers, a far cry from my lifestyle-businessprofile-interiordesign-food journalism, had a 4-week turnaround time.
“You’re kidding,” you say.
“I’m not,” I answer.
After handing it in last week, it was quiet and I had that awful empty feeling you get when you hand over something that you’ve worked on. And every now and then you stop short and say “Shouldn’t I be working on that?” Oh, you say, when you realize that no, that project is done. As writers and editors, we sit there and work and work and work, in a special kind of limbo, one in which others may have input and we nod and accept their noise, and we keep on working. Pretty much alone. We are engaged. Focused. Primal in our relationship with the pen and paper, keyboard and screen. Our eyes blur, we become deaf in this aliveness of writing. We work, write, edit, push. Alone.
And then we step away, come out of it and into the light again, walking a bit stiffly. And wonder what the heck we’ve done, if anything.
Next project? I have an idea which will involve a fairly in-depth query and meanwhile, I flirt with fiction, a place where so many blog acquaintances have gone and therefore continue to inspire me.