A big sigh of . . . relief?

Yesterday I turned in the New Book.  I sat at my keyboard, my finger poised over the “send” button, awaiting my fanfare or at the very least a hallway lined with hand-shakers and well-wishers.

What I got instead was a queasy stomach and an early pepto-bismal bedtime (but was it the book or the street falafal?)

It’s a hard thing to do, to put your baby out there into the world. Now, granted, “the world” is currently just my editor and my agent – both lovely people who want nothing but the best for me – and if it’s a bunch of 12-point, double-spaced junk they will let me know and we’ll shiny-up the messy bits long before any of you get a peek at it.

But it’s still hard to let it go.  Truth be told, I’ve been sitting on it for at least a month – making little tweaks here and there, only to go back the next day and tweak the tweaks back again.  Basically I could have and perhaps should have turned it in then, but there is just always that little Goblin on my shoulder telling me that inspiration, like a bolt from the blue, could strike tomorrow and illuminate all the hidden problems and untapped potential.

Shut up Goblin, I’m on a schedule here.

The book is done.

Now comes the hard part.

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