After months of angst and woe and apprehension, I have finally finished my book.
It feels amazing.
I am a lame duck in the writing world. I have written many a novel, a short story, a poem. But I don’t toot my horn often and I haven’t been published, except for an article here and there a number of years ago.
Of course there is editing editing editing to do. But I have followed the road to its end.
I am of the strange sort that it doesn’t really matter if I get published or not. It’s the thrill of the chase that sustains me.
Surely you have had creative moments where all you want to do is — create. You have this nebulous or fairly detailed idea in your head of something you want to make. Pick an art. It doesn’t matter. We all start from a seed, and, if we’re lucky, it grows into a fine, tall, sturdy tree.
Sometimes the seed splits and doubles and all you have to show for your progress is a couple of bushy, out-of-control bursts of color.
Other times, though ….
I don’t know whether I’ll try to get this one published or not. There’s always an e-book or whatever if I just can’t stand not having the world hear about Paris.
But more importantly, I have a finished creative product in my hands.
Something that came completely from my head.
Something that turned this way and that until it became a beautiful vase on the potter’s wheel. A landscape painting of immeasurable beauty. A song that gives you goose bumps every time you hear it. A movie that makes your heart burst out of your chest because it’s so poignant.
It’s like birthing a baby. You don’t know what it will become, but your life has become richer for it.
Keep your creativity going. Don’t stop. Not if you really want to feel free.