My Writing Process, The End

When I anxiously await arrival of something so important, I can come to wonder what went wrong. Did the printer run out of my selected paper color? Did a larger order get pushed ahead of me? Yet, all such concerns quickly dissolve in the sweat generated by carrying the book boxes to my storage room and running to my local stores and libraries to make sure they have my latest title. Not to mention the sweat and muscle aches of stocking four cords of wood.

DELIVERY

When will my books be delivered? I wait and wait, it seems for weeks. The

publisher says it is out of their hands, but as soon as they hear from the printer, they will let me know. I never get any word, but one day, there’s a call from a delivery company. There are twenty boxes of my newborn loaded on the truck to be delivered as soon as possible. Come immediately I say.

My writing process has come to an end. For now.

I am still waiting for my firewood. What is taking so long? Seth tells me my load is in a queue, waiting for a couple bigger jobs to be completed. When the truck is loaded with mine, he will call me to schedule delivery. Then, out of the blue his dumper arrives with no warning. At my surprise the driver says, “Well, didn’t you want to get this right away?” As he backs into the driveway, a smaller truck arrives with my books. “We pushed your delivery up because you complained. We try to please.” What could I say to either of them?

As the wood dumped loudly onto my driveway, I muscle the book boxes on my

two-wheeler into the basement. I’m not quite pleased, but quite happy.

This bring us to the end of the tale of both my writing and firewood. I hope that your own process is as rewarding as I've found mine.