“How’s the book writing going?” Said the smiling guy at the community event last night. Smiling because he knew the answer. We had discussed before when I am due to start.
“Does it LOOK like summer is over yet?” I laughed and pointed out the window at yet another perfect day in Michigan.
Then today, we walked out to the pier. Looked a lot less like summer, though it will be back strong tomorrow… sunny and warm.
But soon, summer will end. I will stop playing around the edges with this writing thing. Saying goodbye to my most beautiful summer ever. And jumping into the abyss. A bit frightened that it will consume me, no turning back, lost in the writing until it all pours out. And yet a bit frightened that it won’t. No deep abyss, a shallow tar pit instead. Where every sentence, every paragraph becomes a bloody battle in a very long and brutal war.
Be it the abyss, or the tar pit, it will not be jumping off the pier. I will not drown. I will not need to be saved.