This morning I got up early (after the best night of sleep I've had in more than a week!), made a pot of coffee and a bagel, and settled into the library to finish the book I've been reading for the last few days. Maureen Johnson's The Name of the Star is a fabulous tale of a modern day Jack the Ripper terrorizing London and has quite a few interesting twists. It's been a long, long time since a book has freaked me out. Reading last night in the wind and the rain, all alone, I honestly started to hear noises that gave me the goose bump raising creeps.
I still have a few hours before it's time to go to work and the only thing I've wanted to do is continue working through my manuscript. This is so different for me, as I've never been a fan of the editing process. Something is clearly different about this and I can safely say that I have never been more passionate about making this piece of work the best that I possibly can. There is a long road ahead of me, but I want to see what's at the end of it. Sometimes it's the anticipation of what's to come that carries us onward.
This is true in life, this is true in books.
There is a line in my tale that one of the characters says to another and it goes, "I won't lie, I've kissed a lot of girls, but you're the first girl where the kissing ended up being better than the anticipation of the kiss."
Right now, for me, it's the anticipation of what's to come next in this story of friendship, love, family, and loneliness, that keeps me wanting to get to the next page and then the one after that. In the end, I hope the story, like that kiss, ends up being better than the anticipation of it
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