The podcasts I've been listening to talk about "finishing energy," a (I hope) final burst of creativity and verve that gets you to the finish line. I don't know. So far, mine is still, "that's IT, I'm DONE," which is more of the burn-it-in-the-grate-and-move-on sort of energy.
Just weeks ago, I was wondering about whether or not I had two more essay collections in me, and I have to laugh. My history reveals that I do hard things just once, for the most part. If it doesn't "work," and I accept that there are different definitions for that, I move on.
It's weird for me to put so much trust in a stranger, but I know I need to be careful about just wanting to please her. I need to trust myself too, and also recognize the difference between stubbornness and instinct. But the whole book is basically about how I fail to believe in myself. This is...not easy. Have I mentioned that? I think I have!
I'm looking at September for the edit. Daily practice, clean it up, answer the (excellent) questions the editor has posed. I've wallowed enough. My sisters are coming for a visit at the end of the month, and I'd like to have as much as possible done by then. I must, must take this one chunk at a time, one day, one essay. I must also be kind to myself, somehow harder to do than all the rest.