Instead of attending to new words and developing the story in my current work I am sitting here in my office this morning reflecting and revisiting what came before. I am anxiously waiting for the arrival of my fourteenth novel which has been sent out this morning from the Nimbus warehouse. I can not wait to open the box and lift out the first book. Pride, nervousness, vulnerability and courage mix with the excitement of it’s entry into the world. I started my reflection by re-reading some of my blog entries. A photograph taken on my 2019 writing retreat in Scotland of a leather bound journal sitting open on a stone bench took me to that journal and the days at Lunga House where I began crafting the story and developing the characters in the Wright Retreat. With messy scribbling I pulled thoughts and ideas from my imagination. Some stuck while others evaporated into thin air. I spent months crafting that story before the box arrived holding that book. I have said before how much I love that process; tiny seed, imagination, developing, revising and polishing, editing and proof reading, cover selection and final tweaks. And then the wait for the box to arrive and to hold the finished book. I can not adequately describe the joy of that. I am humbled, honored and grateful! I remember receiving the first box containing copies of The Year Mrs. Montague Cried and every box with every book after that. And today I wait for the boxes of Such a Winter’s Day that are on their way to me. How truly amazing is that!
As I Wait
