The Birth of a New Creation

Well, I finally finished writing the book I’ve been working on for the last four years – the first draft that is.  I’m well aware that the real work is only just beginning.  The whole creative process has reminded me of actually physically giving birth in so many ways, though my gestation period with the book was more than four times longer.  Come to think of it, so was the labor.

It started with the glow of an idea.  I don’t know if it showed up in my face as it may have when I was pregnant with each of my three children, but I felt it throughout my body.  The idea inspired and uplifted me and began to take on a life of its own.  As it continued to take form and I scribbled down notes that would flesh out the initial concepts, the excitement grew.

Once there was no mistaking that I would be bringing the book into the world, morning sickness set in.  When I wasn’t working on the manuscript, I felt a gnawing sense of uneasiness that beckoned me to devote time at my computer.  And when I was writing, I often had the insatiable urge to eat – especially when I felt as though the words I needed just weren’t coming fast enough.  This of course, was occasionally followed by nausea and stomach cramps.  Thankfully, no maternity clothes were necessary.

I learned that just as you cannot rush the development of a baby’s hand or ear, it is also true that you simply cannot force inspiration.  I found that my best writing came when I relaxed enough into the process to get out of my head and let something bigger come through me.  It became clear over the many months that followed that it was not mine to determine what the creation would look like or to fret over whether I was doing a good enough job with it.  It was an idea – a seed – that was within me but had surely originated from something greater.  The best thing I could do was to get out of the way and let the thing evolve as it needed to.  When I learned to content myself with simply being a vessel, things went much more smoothly.

And then as I got to the last few chapters, my level of urgency and excitement went through the roof.  I couldn’t stop writing.  Several nights a week, I woke up at two, three or four in the morning and after lying in bed wide awake for twenty or thirty minutes, simply got up and went to my computer.  The labor had begun.  And it soaked up every ounce of attention and energy I had.  I stalled on the final chapter.  I wanted the thing out – free and clear.  After writing a couple of lame sentences I fooled myself into thinking perhaps it was done.  And then I had another contraction, this one so strong and powerful that it wiped those last two sentences out and left three pages of afterword in their place.

For a week or so, the manuscript lay sleeping peacefully, breathing softly, wrapped in swaddling.  Thoroughly and completely exhausted, I couldn’t bring myself to do much of anything.   And then I realized the little guy needs care and feeding to survive.  I hired an editor to help me nurse it.  The poor thing probably has a lopsided head from being in the birth canal so long.  It needs suctioning and baby wipes and probably a good lukewarm bath too.

And I find myself now in much the same place I did after my first child was born – with the blissful yet sobering knowledge that I am now a parent – or, well, an author.  That this little thing needs me to help it make its way in the world – to support its head until its muscles are strong enough to lift it on its own, and to nurture it to the place that others can hold and enjoy it as much as I do.  Just as there are seemingly millions of books, articles and blogs written on how to raise a child, the myriad of opinions and recommendations on next steps with the manuscript are completely overwhelming.  I comfort myself with the thought that with each of my three children I felt that same sense of panic and wonder.  And that with love, dedication and an occasional bit of sleep I ended up learning everything I needed to know along the way.  I have to believe this creation will be no different.

Its name is The Pinocchio Principle ~ Becoming Real:  Authentic Leadership for the 21^st Century.  Welcome to the world, little one!

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