{Photo taken by Pixie Campbell}

I am heading into the last week before I turn in my book, savoring this time to go through one more round of revisions, edits, and a bird’s eye view of the whole thing. I don’t feel frantic, crazed, super super busy, or up against a wall. I feel good. Good as in solid, on schedule, comfortable with what I’ve created, unsure about what the editing process will be like, curious to know how I’ll feel once the goods have been delivered and I’m a free agent. The book will come back to me a few more times before it is sent off to be printed, but not until a couple of months after I deliver my manuscript.

I made a commitment from the first day I began writing the book to never ever sit down to work on it from a place of stress, anxiety, or fear. Anytime I began to freak out about my deadlines (believe me, I had my moments), wonder if what I was writing wasn’t just a big pile of mumbo jumbo, or got wound up over something entirely unrelated to my book but that I decided would somehow derail it, I refused to work on my book. I stayed away from my computer and chapter print outs until I could sit down calmly, peacefully, and able to give it my full attention.

I cannot stress enough how well this worked. That one commitment ~ to work on the book if and only if my heart, mind, and body were free of any kind of angst whatsoever ~ set the stage for the entire process, and it served me well in those moments when I worried I wouldn’t be able to pull this off. Incredibly well. Because with that commitment came something equally as important ~ trust in the process and in myself. If I stuck to my original promise, that meant I had no choice but to trust the process of the book. It meant that when I spent an afternoon doing something other than write the book, it was with a deep trust that whatever I was doing was not taking anything away from the book, but in its own way supporting it. This promise that I made to myself was the soft pile of leaves that I could always jump into and fall back on during any moments of frustration, worry, or panic. No matter what was sending my mind into a tailspin, I had somewhere to go ~ I had that very first promise, the promise I made the day I began working on the book, and never lost sight of, not even for a moment.

“Our promises become the anchor in a storm.  The point toward which we travel while keeping our eyes fixed on the horizon line, not the bumps in the road in front of us.” ~Mary Anne Radmacher