Here I sit, with a measly two weeks to go until I turn in the manuscript for my book. I’m on holiday with my family in Virginia at the moment, tucked away high up in the Blue Ridge mountains for the week to enjoy the Thanksgiving festivities … and to write. It’s fitting that I’m spending these final days before my “due date” in the place that inspired the book’s genesis in the first place. Every time I’m here in these mountains – in this cozy, slow-paced hometown of mine – I am reminded of what a special place this little corner of the planet is, and my excitement to shine my own light on it with the rest of the world is reignited all over again. Feels like a privilege that I’m even being afforded the unique opportunity to do so, actually.
So, here I sit. Dotting i’s, crossing t’s … trying to compute and figure and calculate the metric conversions of each and every ingredient listed in my book. Trying to decide if I actually do like the chocolate in my chocolate blackberry cobbler or if I just really WANT to like it. Trying to figure out if the buttermilk-lemongrass granita recipe is as great as I think it is, or if I’m just really wanting it to be great. Those are two different things, turns out, and I’m learning that sometimes I’m very guilty of the latter. My book is, above all else, intended to be an authentic and real representation of the things I love most … so that is the lens through which I am scrutinizing it’s pages as I work my way back through it all this one last time. Is this real – I mean really real? Did I capture that right? What am I missing? Does this read the way it’s supposed to? Am I being true to myself? Will people feel the way I hope it makes them feel?
Yes. And yes and yes and yes. I think I did, and I think they will. I hope they will.
So, here I sit. Continue reading