The Book Which Dare Not Speak Its Name...
...because I don't have one yet.
If you're lucky, really lucky, you work every day on a creative project, sometimes for years, and every once in a while you have a moment. It might be more than a moment; it might be a week, or even two. And in those moments, you suddenly have the creativity you'd been looking for day after day.
In a funny way, it resembles exercising. I used to run because it was good for me, and it was, but it was all workmanlike. Because I ran all those times, though, I occasionally had one of those transcendent runs where I entered a deep flow state and time passed without me thinking about it.
That's a long-winded way of saying that in the last ten days I've had one of those moments. I had a list of outstanding issues, as well as stretch goals, for the book, and every single one has been checked off. It all fits into the existing work, it reads well, and it makes the book complete.
I feel very fortunate.
I respect the grind, but those moments when the grind disappears are both wonderful and a relief. It's hard to write a book. At least, it's hard for me.
The book with no name will make it by the holidays. It might even be sooner.
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