All right, prepare to hear something obvious:
I have never had a baby.
Yup, no infants have ever sprung forth from my body.
Yet, after the last week, I think I sorta know what post partum depression might feel like.
A week ago, my editor and I finished work on the second edition of my autobiography, After This… An Inspirational Journey For All the Wrong Reasons. Friends, we have diligently been working on this thing for the past three years - and that’s a heck of a lot longer than pregnancy, unless you’re an elephant or something.
Anyway, this has been something I’ve laughed over, cried over, sweated over, gotten pissed off over, and pretty much every other emotion under the sun has, at one time, smacked me upside my stupid head. Now, it’s over.
While I’m very, very excited about having this in the hands of you, the reader, I’ve gotta admit I’m a little sad. Even though I’m excited for the future, this is something I’ve been anticipating for years. And now it’s almost here.
So, I celebrate the end of the working process, but I mourn it a bit, too. The solution? I start writing another. Actually, that’s not true. I’ve already started writing another, and I’m some 50 pages into it. Look for a release of my next book in early 2007. And thanks for helping to make this a reality, folks.
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