Last night as I was writing I accidentally hit the print button instead of "save". But it didn't matter, I have no printer connected to my computer at home, so I saved, closed down the computer, and thought nothing more of it.
Today when I arrived at work and powered up my computer as I always do the printer suddenly sprang to life. There, page after page, my story started coming out. All forty-four pages of it. Single spaced. That is a lot of paper, and a lot of ink. I must admit, I did feel a little guilty. I picked it up, threw it into a folder, lest anyone else need to print something and see my apparent waste of these precious materials. But after school I picked that blue folder containing the words I have been working on, dreaming about, throwing all of my energy into. And for the very first time, it became real. I am writing a book. A book.
Standing there, looking at what I had created so far, I saw beauty. I am a lover of words -- both using them and receiving them. And here were my words, twenty-something-thousand of them, waiting to be read.
(Photo curtesy of weheartit.com)
(Thanks Caiti for opening my eyes to this fabulous website.)
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