THE UNSEEN JOURNEY.
It’s a night, cool and damp. I’m feeling lonely, but I’m not alone. I’ve got my laptop, some sheets, and my trusty mug filled with dark coffee. Next to my Bible, it’s my ever-faithful companion when work needs to be done.
After all, I had promised myself, that the E-book would be finished that day at dawn then, I would go on to singing Halleuluias and patting myself, by myself, on the back for being such a genius who wrote an E-book after procrastinating for three years.
After puttering around I eventually sat down at 1 am and the clicks started to clock in words that gave life to ideas. It’s a heart business today. The writer in me is doing the writing and my brain is watching in awe.
Time flies, and it feels like eternity is calling.
I’ve made a lot of progress. Somebody please pat me on the back.
But alas, it’s 4:44 am.
Other things need my attention.
Like my bed and my devotions.
Which would it be?
My heart says to continue, but my body questions why.
The work isn’t finished.
Protests.
My intentions are frustrated by time and nature.
Everything was done right.
But everything still isn’t right.
Blame it on the sun, it shining at night.
Blame it on the dawn, it came too soon.
Just don’t blame me.
I need to stretch or bend time
Too many new ideas.
What was meant to be a 15-page e-book has turned into 74 pages.
The ideas keep flowing in like a tropical downpour.
No sign of it waning.
This is the life of a Writer.
When you think it’s finished, it starts all over again.
I wondered where all these fresh ideas were when I spent hours staring at the blinking cursor.
Now we have to accommodate strangers.
These ideas desperately need lodging.
Don’t do it, says my tiredness.
Do it, it’s a good temptation, says wisdom.
I love temptations.
I mean the good ones.
Like the group called “The Temptations”.
I mean the guys that sang “Treat Her Like a Lady”,
Gen Z step aside.
This is for the Baby Boomers and Gen Xers.
You have to treat these ideas like ladies.
They are fresh.
No sin intended. Puritans, forgive me.
To accommodate them, I have to make some tweaks
Just a little.
A little now leads to a page re-formating.
Now, I have to do the re-paging of the whole E-book.
This is the life of a writer.
When it is finished, it starts.
It’s an endless cycle of writing.
You promise yourself this is the last time. You swear by whatever that nothing is going to make you alter anything after implementing this idea. We are not going to change even a comma. “We’re not going to change even a comma,” you say. Then, a few minutes later, an idea from Pluto drops in, begging to be included.
“Let me live, don’t let me die. My life is on page 12”.
“Okay, just this once”.
It’s been over 3 weeks, and I’m still accommodating other new ideas.
It’s a bad-good habit.
Let’s add more content. We’re not getting raptured today.
Finally, the draft goes to the Editor. I am so pleased I could have added a ribbon to the envelope. 3 days later, the dreaded call comes in. Every writer knows what that means.
Brutal cuts, expansions, more tweaks, page adjustments, and worse, saying goodbye to some ideas. How do you kill the ideas you saved? It’s absurd. “I want to keep them,” I say.
“No, they have to go,” the editor replies, adjusting his glasses.
After more frustration, I say, “It’s my book.”
An hour later, I submit.
“Okay, boss.”
We kiss and make up.
“Save them for another book.”
Back to the writing again.
Apologizing to the “ideas”
“It’s not me, it’s the man with the rimmed glasses.”
Someday this e-book will be finished.
Someday, I will write a classic.
Someday, I will ghostwrite for you.
I don’t understand why they call it ghostwriting – it sounds eerie and mysterious.”
“Mr Creepy” marries “Miss Spooky.”
Anyway, let me know if you want me to write for you.
No ghost stories, please.
After all, I am just a scribe.
Not an exorcist. (Smiles).
SELAH.
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