Done, done, done writing the vamp book! Yee haw! My elation has faded a little. Last night I was jubilant. Bouncing I read over the ending and went “Oh!” Got that fluttery feeling in my stomach I get when a book is “there.”
Today, reality hits. I really like this book, but… will anyone else? For now, all I can do is congratulate myself on working very hard and doing the very best job I could possibly do. The vamp book isn’t slapstick. It’s humorous and dark and hopefully, my characters have depth. I think I finally figured out my style of writing humor. If I don’t strain myself in trying to make the book a laugh a minute, I can do it. I weave humor in to offset the drama and dark moments.
And now that I’m done, I’m looking at my life. Sometimes God closes a door and you can’t pry it open, no matter how many crowbars you use. But He opens a window. The window may be difficult to find. But I know it’s there. Will I get the vamp book published? I don't know. Right now I have this book I created for an audience of one - me. It may end up in my Forever Drawer. My cemetery for Dead Manuscripts.
I’m like a songwriter creating a beautiful piece of music in an empty auditorium. The songwriter appreciates it, but the audience is missing. So the writer sits on stage, plays it for herself. She marvels at each note, strains to make it as perfect and pure as she can, and labors over the piece. And in the end, she’s satisfied and happy with her work, but it won’t serve any purpose other than for her to say, “I did it. I proved to myself I could do it.”
But the audience is off at a Rave concert or wildly cheering the sensational new hit singer who’s taking the world by storm. So she plays it one last time for herself, hearing each faultless note, each lovely melody. Then she sadly tucks the piece beneath the piano bench. She resigns herself to knowing it will grow yellowed with age, abandoned, and eventually, forgotten. And for a while, she sits on the piano bench, staring at the keys, lost in remembrance of that one perfect moment of joy when her music filled the silence in the empty room.