Late Friday afternoon, I finished my book, Shrapnel in the San Fernando Valley. I could say it was nearly a lifetime of work, but I certainly did not work on it full time. However, I will tell you when and how it all began, because I just did a search on how far back the files went and surprised myself.
You’re not going to believe it, and I can hardly believe it, but guess what will be done by Friday? I mean it this time. I don’t mean another step will be done in the process of being done. I mean done and submitted to publishers done. I mean, as soon as I get a Query Letter, that is. Right now I’m 88% there.
Well, it’s been a little while, hasn’t it? I’ve been thinking about writing in this blog for a while now and have been feeling hesitant/resistant/overly introspective and fearful to share, though, my intention is to continue to go on.
I know I may have mentioned how unnerving it’s been to write my memoir. It’s scary really. It’s scary to think about publishing it too. But I always knew that I wanted to write it. I did purposely wait until my parents passed away – not that this mattered in the scheme of things. Neither one of them would have bothered to read it. And now that they are gone and I have written it, I do not feel any less guilty about all that.