Proof

Today the proof for my second novel arrived in the mail.  Again, I was overcome with a sense of joy.  The cover looked beautiful and the book is rather thick, much longer than I ever could have expected.  Anyway, the joy of accomplishment is hard to dim.  I find myself wondering, albeit hopefully, if I'll manage to write anything as compelling in the future, anything I will enjoy as much.  I'm well aware that I've been putting a lot of myself into my writing and sometimes I wonder if it's too much.  Then again, only a select few people could ever understand all of the little personality quirks and inside jokes littering the pages.  In some ways though, it is only appropriate--I'm writing a story that I would enjoy reading and if others enjoy it, that's fantastic, too.

Currently listening to "Play" by Rascal Flatts