Push, and breach

 Nine months. That must be some kind of record for me. If I was the type to read into things, I might note that it's also the time it takes to make a new human from scratch. 

I'm here puzzling through the audio book process, wishing I had practiced better organizational habits. As per usual, I'm learning a lot between sighs, as if the despondent air displaces to make room for the more useful knowledge. 

Entering the process, my focus diffuses, like the thrust of a good night's rest striking a solid river boulder. I find old pictures in search of cover art, delete some and make mental notes to share others. I find old files in search of manuscripts, and work briefly on book blurbs. I frown and I groan and I thrash. 

All of which to say, progress. My cover artist is graduating college, which is a proud moment. Work on the 6th cover has been delayed for a variety of reasons, and ultimately I take accountability for some of it as well. The edits have gone poorly, most notably because since the 1st book, this is the first book requiring some very aggressive rewrites. The entire landing, more or less. A lot of the book is in tact, but in its current version, the ending is a collision area of many ideas. The road is on fire and my paramedic methods are having trouble reaching all the separate disaster zones. My day job isn't helping. I am truly busy; only recently have I discovered the only time I have is Sunday morning, after recovering for the week, just before I have to prepare for the next, a crease of time about as wide as a page turned sideways. I know a lot more now than I used to, but the important fact is something that has been with me for years: nothing will happen if I do nothing. 

So, I shall work. I have a plan in place, loose though it is. Ideally this year the 6th book will be out, and I will have officially moved beyond where I was trapped before, along with some honest-to-goodness marketing. Work will immediately begin on the 7th cover, because I have brainstormed idly on that (one benefit of having less time is having more money, say to pay for cover art). 

Among all that I could comment on things I've learned, and realized, and considered, but after so much time I have the benefit of having experienced those new thoughts, and then weigh and judge them, and come away with a certain understanding of their more objective worth. My mother sent me thanks in pictures for her retirement gift. Said differently, I have another photo of her on yet another beach. This time though, she credits me with her ability to make the trip. I felt good. I felt really good. I've fantasized for years about award ceremony speeches and other grand gestures. I thought "this is what it's going to take, nothing less." Turns out I was wrong. That isn't at all what it took, to feel like I was making up for the sacrifices, even a little. Simple subtraction revealed who all of those other dreams were for, and I'm fine with that truth. I dream them more boldly now.

I had an adventure recently, milquetoast though it was, it was a first, important step for me. Well, a second. Once upon a time, I went to Puerto Rico to attend a friend's wedding. That was probably the first. 

Recently, I visited that same friend, and met his second child. Nine months, plus a handful of years past that. There isn't a whole lot to say; I shook Time's hand. It was small, and big, and smooth, and weathered, and light and strong and surreal and certain.