Typing "The End"

I’m back after a small absence. The book is finished (at least until my editor gets hold of it) and on its way to Grand Rapids or Oregon or wherever it winds up. I have to tell you, it feels really strange.

The characters I’ve lived with for months have achieved their happily-ever-after (I hope that won’t spoil the book if you decide to read it—but come on, I write romance) and I don’t have to think about them anymore. Oddly, I find that I do think about them, though. I wonder if I’ve made them smart enough and funny enough and deep enough to entertain a reader for a few days. I guess we’ll find out about next March.

Now I have a space of a few days to concentrate on family things. My son graduates from high school in a couple of weeks. I’m doing a memory book for him, so I’ve been looking through photo albums, combing through boxes of things I’ve saved since he was in kindergarten, and having a motherly meltdown. How did that beautiful little blond Dennis-the-Menace turn into this big deep-voiced young adult? I’m seeing traces of his humor and his sentimentality (well-hidden of course) and his way of looking at the world slowly emerge in Sunday school drawings, funny poems done for his own amusement (and mine), and essays forced upon him by longsuffering teachers. I can hardly wait to see what shape he takes as he launches into college and adulthood.

I pray he stumbles in as satisfying a career as I have. Writing is a killer, but it's worth it.