If I am indeed giving birth to a book, it feels like I have entered my second trimester. Not in the literal sense of months, but in a way that feels like I’ve embarked upon a new phase of its development.
Shortly after gleefully signing up for a writing workshop in September designed to whip my manuscript into shape, I received a welcome email with my “homework” — the first 50 pages of my manuscript, a two-page synopsis, yada, yada, yada. None of this fazed me too much until I saw the deadline — August 1! Say what?
But then, as is my M.O., within 24 hours I realized this is exactly right. I spent nearly 15 years as a daily, deadline-meeting journalist and I thrive on this kind of pressure. Yeeha. I have been asking The Universe to give my motivation a jolt, to send me a big dose of accountability, and it’s been delivered to my front door.
I was just watching The Next Food Network Star and something Bobby Flay said was just wonderful. It was something to the effect that, to this day, every time he hears the countdown to camera go “5-4-3-2 …” he still has fear and he knows it’s because of his passion for what he’s doing.
I am feeling the best possible kind of fear.