My book is taking a nap

I’ve been working seriously on my memoir (on and off) for about six years. In that time, it’s been through many drafts. I completed Draft 5 in early 2010. I was happy with it, I got a few leads from agents and editors, but ultimately nothing came of it. So I put it to bed. It’s been napping ever since.

It’s been a long nap. The book was tired. It had been working awfully hard. Early in the morning, late at night. It got fussy. I got impatient.

But now, I can hear it stirring. It’s not a full-out wailing or crying, but I can tell it’s awake. It’s cooing and babbling to itself. It’s like the baby who’s content in the crib, playing with its feet, or hands batting the mobile.

I want to go to it. I want to see its face, to play with it. I’ve missed it. I’ve been productive while it napped, took care of what needed to be done around here.

But it’s so happily content that for now, I will leave it be. I know it’s awake, and it would welcome arms that would pick it up. But I will wait. I will wait until it squalls, its face burning red. I will wait until I cannot ignore it anymore. It will take some soothing, some love, but it will eventually quiet down and let me work with it.

My book was taking a nap, but now it’s awake.