As I wait for my novella, “The Last of Her Kind,” to post on Amazon, I appreciate today’s reality: the fate of my little book now lies in the hands of its own destiny. I may no longer lay claim to it. A book belongs to the writer only while it is being written. Once that last word has surged through the conduit, the writer’s work is done; the Muse reclaims her creation; the reader claims it as one’s own.
If I am fortunate, my little book will be adopted and held close to the reader’s heart very soon.
If I am blessed, my Muse will return again tonight. I am available to her, ready to do her bidding.