I realised it while watching Body of Lies with the boy and drafting a new prologue. My story has something. Something that is deeply embedded in the rough, but is there nonetheless. It’s hard to admit but I think this is the story I want out there in the world, I think I’m ready to assemble my tools and start excavating. The gentle, precise kind, with brushes and tiny little chisels.
It’s as though, with a sideway glance, I catch a glimpse of the story it is meant to be, and a seed of hope is planted in my stomach. Of hope and of terror. I know how hard this is going to be. I know it will require one tool I don’t have a great handle on: faith.
Faith in myself. in my ability, in my story. Already the doubts are creeping in and I’m holding them back with a feather. But I can do this. Can I do this?
Lord, help me do this.