That's the feeling I carry with me this week. One more time, I'm standing up to bat in a new game, a new chapter, a new inning in my game of life.
My memoir is due out this month. After seven years in the works...(more like five decades in the making!), four editors, numerous coaches, self-help classes and retreats that number more than my toes and fingers, I'm standing up to launch my book into the field of a zillion other books and memoirs, among great and unknown authors alike. Why would I attempt what I have never attempted so far in life and at this later stage?
I've wondered at many 3am wake-ups this very thing. Why am I willing to risk so much time and money, the hours and effort on such a grand endeavor?
Because I have a dream. Or maybe it's I had a dream when I was a young woman about how fabulous it would be to write and interest others in my experiences, revelations of life's wonder and magic and in the different places and people I meet along the way. And that at my mid-life juncture this dream came back to me and could no longer be shelved in that place of unlived desire and wishes unfulfilled. It demanded I live it, no matter what.
So I lived and so I write. And in the telling of my mistakes and success, crisis and healing, the magic proved to be still alive and well in the girl within, who will not shut up about going out and having fun, telling the stories and sharing them all with other women, as well as the brave men who dare to understand the power of the girl within.
My palms are sweaty as I grip my bat, dig my heels into the dirt, and focus my vision on that opportunity that says "batter up." I see the prize of a solid hit, the sound of that cracking, slamming drive and the path this book will take. I'll drive it out into the world and see how high it will fly and where it lands.
And if the dream I have comes true, it will sail into the crowds and I'll have a home run.
No matter what, I will have lived a dream and seen it come to fruition.
I do still believe, I do still dream and so I write.