After more than a decade of talking about it, I finally did it. I published a book. A memoir even. And soon others will have a chance to read what I've been holding inside.
I think the book might even be described as "a good book." But I'm the author. Authors don't get to decide. It will only be a good book if those who read it want others to read it too. And, a few weeks from now, I may begin to find out if that's what has happened.
Until then I continue to wait.
My waiting has not been unproductive, however. I've spent the time thinking some pretty incredible thoughts (if I do say so myself). The thoughts are more like answers to private questions, or the collective outcome of my personal contemplations. In particular, I've been revisiting a question I first entertained nearly 16 years ago: "What did I hope to accomplish by writing a book anyway?"
No matter when I ask myself the question or how I pose the question to myself, I return to a single answer: I want to get conversations started.
And that probably doesn't surprise anyone who knows me.
So...I'm growing more eager with every passing day. I can't wait to see how the conversation begins.