I finished the initial edits of the last two chapters of the book yesterday. Technically my next job is to review the book in its entirety and make any final changes before I send it off forever. And so I have reached a bit of an inpass….

I am super excited about the book finally coming to fruition. I would say that it’s been 6 years in the making, but that would be false. The reality is this moment was dreamed of by a 7-year-old girl 38 years ago. I always wanted to write, but moreover I always wanted someone to read what I wrote, and to love it. So I don’t know about the love it part so much, but at least the read it part is becoming a reality. And any dream 38 years in the making is a bit of a thing, I think.

But I am hesitating about reading through it this last time. I feel well assured that there are no typos, or any grammatical errors (at least those that aren’t intentional for purposes of casuality.) (BTW Is “casuality” even a word? If it is, does it mean what I think it means? Probably not.)

So what purpose am I serving by reading through it again? I’ve read through every chapter as I’ve edited them, and what I know is that I have a tendency to want to change stuff. And sometimes that’s not been a bad thing. Sometimes I’ve corrected weird errors or at least language that didn’t flow well.

But sometimes it’s not been about that. Sometimes it’s been about my “now-brain” trying to inflict itself upon the “4-years-ago-when-I-wrote-this” brain. That’s legitimately a way I could go, but when I really think about it, it’s not the way I want to go. So how can I read through the entire book again and not let my “now-brain” inflict itself upon the story as a whole?

Simultaneously, I have this deep rooted fear that if I don’t read through every line of every chapter that I’m going to miss something consequential. I am going to have made some error – either in what I have said, what I haven’t said, or how I have said it.

I’m sure every writer goes through this. But when you’ve written something non-fiction about yourself, it seems like it might have more gravitas somehow. Almost like – if I don’t get this perfect somehow, am I lying? Or at the very least am I being disingenuous?

Honestly, I’m not really sure. But I’ve instituted a self-imposed deadline of Friday afternoon to turn the book over to the editors as a final copy. One way or the other, I feel like I either figured it out by then, or I’ll never figure it out. So it might as well be by then.

Wish me godspeed and good wishes. This really is “IT.” This is the point where I pour my brains out on the sidewalk and everyone gets to muddle and kick through them, and then decide what they think. This is the point where I throw my life out there, to reviews and criticism. This is where it all gets very, very real. And “real’ is what it is all about, isn’t it?