On the other side of the path, yarrow blooms nodded in synchronized motion with the chirping crickets. I wonder if the other walkers think I’m daft? I'm surrounded by incredible beauty, yet I’m wobbling down the path buried in my phone, texting what's streaming out of my head.

Realizing I hadn’t captured the depth of my changes so readers could “feel” along with me, not just read, I’m editing my book one more time replacing descriptions of how I feel with sensations and action. It's called “showing” not “telling”. It feels peculiar because I’m reliving the book as I edit and spending more time in those singular moments of awareness that preceded all the changes I made.

It was wrenching to handover the manuscript. I'd scrutinized every detail. The time had come and I knew it!