I just ordered a book from the Big A – not because I like giving Jeff Bezos my money, but because the book is by a student and I want to support her. The slim volume arrived at my door, clad in the blue and white packaging, and I ripped it open; I marveled at her creation. She. Wrote. A. Book. And she had the guts to put it out into the universe.
And here I am, three years on the same story. Three-and-a-half years if I’m honest. Don’t get me wrong, Amanda is my muse, and I love her story. But something feels like I’m stalling, like I’m afraid to finish. What if hers is the only story in me? What if no one likes it? What if? What if?
But ‘What ifs’ be damned. I’m writing – and with a group of competent, sharp, amazing women who will keep me focused, keep me honest, and help me shape the end of Amanda’s story. Because her story – my story, the words I’ve woven in my head and managed to type on a Google Doc long since copied, re-copied, shared, and edited – deserve to be read and savored.
So there.
(And because my heart can’t stand that I started this post with a reference to the Site that Shall Not Be Named, please take a moment to visit my favorite local bookstore’s website and scroll though the lovelies that live there – just a short drive down Kellogg. Order local, folks. It makes a difference: watermarkbooks.com
shelly. walston. writes. 