The book is out. In my mind those words go to the tune of Doris Day's "The party's over, it's time to call it a day." (OK I'm showing my age - but so be it.)
Is it a relief? Yes. Is it thrilling? No. At this point the self doubts rush in like waves at high tide. I question everything. Why in the Hell did I do? How much time have I wasted? How many errors are there in the book? To answer that last question I offer - whatever one can find in there - go for it. After an editor, 4 additional readers, two different electronic grammar and spell checkers (not to count what Amazon puts the transcript through) and 100's of re-writes, re-reads, re-writes, take this out, add this, re-write, a final read, put that back in, and three final "final" reads, it is what it is.
My daughter gave birth to bouncing baby girl after 39 weeks of gestation and a 15 minute c-section. The book covers 68 years and was written over a period of 8 months. Hands down the gestation and birth of this book were much more painful than what my daughter went through to birth my granddaughter.
She has a beautiful baby girl to show for it. I have 213 pages of something I hope will entertain some and offend none. My bottom line goal is optimism, enough so that my life cannot be seen as Act 5 Scene 5 in Shakespeare's Macbeth "Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."
Not that I would be melodramatic or anything like that.