My tasks on STP are almost complete. Let me tell ya ... when you think of deadlines, in books, it's not the same. You turn stuff in, you think everything's done, but there's little things. A chart fix here, a text tweak there. Once I turn in the blurbs - and it's an odd experience asking people to say something nice about you - the book will be out of my hands and in yours in just over a month.
There's something to writing that eats at you. Even when you're done, you always want to go back and change something. You see an error, something you could have said better, a plot point that doesn't quite get there -- so you change it. In the era of computers, it's very easy to constantly tweak. I imagine doing that with a typewriter would be harder ... but I'll bet Fitzgerald tweaked.
It's like being pregnant must be. There's something growing inside you and it wants to spring forth. Yet for most, it just sits there. I know for the "lost years" - my five or six year period between leaving Jim White's writing program and picking up the pen again for my unfinished novel - that I felt it.
Publishing on the web and two BP books with my name on it aren't quite the same. Amazing feelings, but STP is entirely mine. Even though there are barely any "original" ideas in the book, the way the information is presented is completely different than anything available. The throbbing in my wrist proves that it's mine.
I'm lucky. The luckiest boy in the world, I often say. Many of the struggles that writers have, I don't. I'm just breathing easy.
Over at Daily Kos , another great liberal blog, Kos himself started the idea of "Baseball Day." I think it's a great idea but one I hope doesn't get official recognition. I guess football would try to steal it, but since they're on Sunday, screw it.
As baseball fans, it is our "national holiday" and I'll be wearing my Prior jersey proudly, even if Kerry is pitching.