If anyone in my house saw me holding my fists in the air today and whisper-shouting, “Yes! YES!” they didn’t say anything. I think my family has learned that odd things happen when I’m at my computer.
Today was a day of rejoicing, of fighting a battle that only I knew I was in, and that only I knew I’d won.
The great demon that I’d exorcised from me? I’d finally figured out how to do that cool little trick I did almost a year ago on GIMP.
Yeah, that’s all: a little bit of formatting for my COVER! YES! (Fists in the air! Waiting for my angel to fist-bump me back! Thank You!!)
(Sorry—residual joy, leaking out of me.)
No one in my home knew that for a week I’d tinkered with my cover off and on, trying to do this one thing and that other thing that any other semi-savvy person could have figured out in 15 minutes.
No one knew that I uttered inane little prayers along the lines of, “Dear Lord, I realize there are far, far greater problems in the universe, but for the life of me I can’t get a shadow on this text. If You’ve got someone up there who could flick me on the side of the head to figure it out, that’d be great, but only if a butterfly doesn’t need saving first . . .”
I got flicked. A few times. AWESOME! THANK YOU! (Fists are still in the air, still waiting for my angelic fist-bump. My angel’s blinking at me, either unaware of this earthly custom, or smirking at my silliness.)
(That darn joy, leaking again . . .)
I wonder how many of us have these private triumphs—and private tragedies. In the Olympics we saw the public joy and humiliation of athletes, but I’m convinced that David O. McKay is right, that probably 99.99% of all our jubilation and sorrow occurs silently in our heads, or in private cheers to the ceiling and Those beyond, or in the shower with the door locked and crying in the water so that even we don’t know how many tears we shed.
Because for as often as we are among others, critical moments in our lives are usually exceptionally private. (Except for a few families on TV with no boundaries, and we all send up additional prayers of gratitude that we’re not them.)
And every once in a while I think it’s ok to share an awesome moment, and even a few sad ones. (Hey, what’s Facebook for, right? Middle-aged women nattering?)
So here’s to a private triumph, shared with you. I FINISHED THE COVER TO BOOK THREE!!!
That means I’m on track to RELEASING BOOK THREE in APRIL!!! The Mansions of Idumea is coming!!!
(Man, all those exclamation points are exhausting.)
(But here are a few more, just because I’m in such an awesome mood!!!!!!)
(Now I feel like a fourth grader. Forgive me.)
So here’s also to hoping we all have very few private sorrows. Because I think that’s where my fist-bumping angel went: to sit with someone who thinks they’re alone, but they’re not.
Wishing each of you a good day of triumph–and a legitimate reason to use exclamation points–very, very soon.
One thought on “Covers, exclamation points, and angelic fist-bumps!”
Congratulations! !!!!! The cover looks great! !!!!!!!!!! Can’t wait to get a copy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!