I think this might be like arriving at base camp at the foot of Everest
I know its an awful lot like being 37 weeks pregnant.
maybe you dreamed of it
surely you worked for it
but as the time nears
you realize, increasingly
that you have absolutely no idea
what you’ve gotten yourself into
and the dark clouds form and disperse
as you reckon the size of the leap
you have made
peering at the place you think you’re going to land
readying the things you think you’ll need
asking for mentors, safety nets
realizing that when you need financial security more than ever you are sloughing it off
to pit yourself against the challenge
of doing this thing
and doing it well
aprons and layers falling
revealing the dream vulnerable to the raw air:
I,
Writer
terrified, quaking, tired and certain
there is no perfect draft, there is no truly ready time
the story is past due
and gone to the printers.
finally finished, and only just begun.
Downwind: A People’s History of the Nuclear West. November 2014