Any coward can fight a battle when he’s sure of winning, but give me the man who has the pluck to fight when he’s sure of losing. –George Eliot
I’m days away from turning in my manuscript. My entire body is drained. My mind is eager.
Here is an excerpt from the chapter I was working on tonight:
The whole process of grief was completely blurred, like driving in a heavy rainstorm where the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the downpour. It seemed dangerous to keep driving, but the urge to get home was stronger than the rain. I wanted to go home. I had been floundering long enough. I wanted to find a place where I could be content.
I hope you will enjoy reading my book someday. The book at times seems to know more about me than I know about myself. At least I keep finding pieces of the real me inside of it when I write.
