First some news, some anxieties, and then I'll do my best to bless your life.
Last week I was asked by a real-life editor to write a foreword for a new, soon-to-be-published book. I know. You can bet I did a little jig of happiness.
Which leads us, already, to the anxieties part.
I worked on it this morning. I think parts of it were just shy of brilliant, or at least good. Not sure about the rest of it though. I emailed it off to him today with my heart in my throat and my ego on my sleeve. Gulp. We'll see.
After the first draft I left the house to get away from it a bit before I edited it. I have to get a little space before I can start killing and maiming my babies, see? I went to the college to get my student ID and my parking pass. The student ID they gave me has my maiden name on it, as the computer refused to believe that I had gotten married. I told David this morning in the shower that I needed to get a ring between now and next Tuesday just in case some other boy wants to ask me out. He just smiled. ("What?" I said, "I was very popular in college." At which, his smile broadened.)
Anyway, while I was there I went to the bookstore for my required books (can I tell you what a little thrill that was?) and saw that one of the requireds is a book I already own, a book already sitting on my writing table, on top of the stack even!, a book I've already read and tried to learn from. And I had the brief and horrible thought that what I might need is not more information (i.e. this class I've registered for) but more talent (i.e. no professor can help you there). And the dream nearly died right there on the bookstore linoleum.
But then RIM raised her voice over CIM's freaking out and I pulled myself together. That is, until I got home and murdered my forward, gave birth to a new version, and sent it through cyberspace to be critiqued and analyzed by a real-life editor.
Good night, what am I thinking?
There's no help for it. Best move on to the part where I bless you life.
Last week I went to to lunch with my brother who was in town just briefly, and my sister who lives here all the time but whom I never see enough. We had a delicious conversation over sandwiches and fries and water with lemon. Near the end, my brother mentioned a masterful talk he had heard at church that had blessed his life. I looked it up and now it has blessed mine as well.
So here it is. It is by Sister Julie B. Beck--the B. stands for Brilliant by the way, and that is always how I refer to her in our house, Sister Julie Brilliant Beck. I think you'll agree.
And, you're welcome.
(P.S. I know some of you might be sorely tempted to leave an encouraging comment about my "brilliant" writing, but honestly I can't bear it today. I am restricting all comments to agreements about the gorgeous and wise, Julie Brilliant Beck, and to those of you who think it is entirely plausible that I could indeed get asked out my some cute boy in my class next week.)