>I’m sitting here at my desk, not sure what to do. Just moments ago I printed out the last chapter of my novel and declared it Done. Finished. The End. I’ve been at this stage before with this same book, but this time I think I really mean it. (It goes to a reader tomorrow and while I expect comments and suggestions that I’ll want to incorporate–thank you, reader!–I don’t anticipate huge changes before the next step, which is the big Agent Search.) So here I sit, rather stunned, looking out the window. And what do I see?
There’s a bluebird crapping in the sycamore tree. Now I don’t have a great view from my studio, which is just as well, given my aptitude for distraction. But there is this one window to the yard, with a view of part of the big sycamore that stands next to my driveway. In the last few days I’ve noticed several birds perched in that tree as if to check on my progress: mourning doves, blue jays, robins, finches. And today, once this morning and again just now, a blue bird. Taking a crap.
What’s it all mean?