I never could have imagined actually writing my first book, then it happened. The months upon months of sending two keyboards to early graves and it was all finished. The editing and revising were pains, but it happened until it was finished.
I hold in my hand the finished product. A nice cover designed by the folks at Damonza.com and an interior that was formatted to perfection. I continuously look at the few copies I hoarded for myself and think, is it real? Did that really happen? Have you gotten past the false stops and years of half-baked ideas and put the effort in for a finished product? The answer was yes, to all, though I am far from done, at least with the half-baked ideas.
It still doesn’t seem real. It feels odd, fleeting, dreamlike, but it’s not, not by a long shot. I did it, I did what I never expected myself to do in one lifetime. I am extremely proud of myself and, all self back patting aside, smile at the work I have accomplished and put into the great cosmos, like it or lump it.
The Bearded Scribbler 