So, last night I sat down with The Pretty Epublisher Lady and had a cup of tea. We chatted about random things in a get-to-know-you sort of way before we jumped into epublishing and the possibility of my book being published by her company. She asked me to describe the book, and so I did. We began talking about fiction and non-fiction, and how being able to blend the two into a story would probably work well in this scenario, in order to ‘flesh it out’ a bit, and ‘pad it’ with more characters and whatnot. We started talking about what led me to find myself on the top of an African mountain… as in, what moments in my life could be, say, foreshadowing, or have had such an impact as to change the course of my life.

The meeting became something totally different than what I was expecting, but it became exactly what I had hoped for.

When I got home, I sat on the couch with The Cheerleader I Live With, and we chatted about the meeting I had with The Pretty Epublisher Lady. All day I had been feeling emotional, and on the verge of tears. Finally, I was able to let it out. I sat with my handsome cheerleader and had a good cry while describing how the book that I have partially written is not the book I am suppose to write.

I knew that. I was just trying to avoid it.

Turns out that what I’m writing is a hell of a lot bigger than a mountain. And at 35 (almost) years old, I’m questioning my right to rock a memoiresque-type tome. But wisdom comes with experience, not age, or so I’m told.

I’m not writing the book I thought I was, and that scares me. I’m feeling a bit emotional and caught-up today, and my head is a little bit twisty. I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe, too.

So, today, I am going to set my head straight, breathe and get collected.

I have a whole new mountain to create.