Those were my mother's words to me after reading this blog. Since her email last week I haven't been blogging because I'm thinking about what she said. The book was started last year and my notebooks are filled with plot thread, time lines and the character who I've come to know. Still their story is not finished and I'm finally tired of being "the starter". I'm going to finish it and honestly, I couldn't care less if no one ever reads it. Even if the only thing that ever comes of it is a day when I sit in a room by myself in front of a stack of papers that represent a shift from an uncommitted dalliance with something I know I can do but won't to something I could do and did. When that happens I will know it's a gift, if not to the world, then to me from the Source of every good gift and every perfect present, but as much as I want the end, it isn't really the point. It's engaging in the dance of creation. Every day. As a meditation, as a sabbatical from "didn't finish", from "could". I'm going to finish, then I'm going to finish something else, and then something else again, and then another something else and I'm going to start practicing now.