A Moment. Everyone should have a moment like this: a moment where anything is possible—anything. It’s the instant when the culmination of all of your efforts comes to fruition; the second when a dream becomes reality but the reality doesn’t kill the dream. I just got mine. My moment came when the proof of my book was delivered in the mail.
Until this moment, my novel was an abstract idea—intangible. Viewing it from behind the veil of a computer screen is far different than holding it in my hands. In my hands, it has a new-car-smell that mingles with the scent of fear coming from me. The glossy shine of the cover contrasts against the soft interior parchment as I thumb through the pages, recognizing my name on it but with the sense that it cannot possibly be my name. Then, I feel its weight and depth that is at once light in one respect and unbearably heavy in another. The peripheral, unconscious idea manifests into the understanding, that in this moment, it is at the pinnacle of its potential. Once it is published, reality will set in—it will be what it will be. But right now, for this single moment, it’s still mine and mine alone. It could be ephemeral…but it could be enduring. It could be anything.