I finished the last chapter of my book the other day.  For the past year this book has felt like my baby, an extra limb I grew overnight, an intrinsic part of me.  I have nourished it along, guided it, controlled it, and now I’m getting ready to send it out into the world with a kiss and a prayer.

                Like my child, my instinct is to want to show it off.  Isn’t that why we create in the first place, for others to see and enjoy? 

                We are having a dinner party tonight.  Pears are at their peak right now in Belgrade and I have found the perfect dessert:  Caramelized Upside-Down Pear Tart.  The pears are first caramelized on the stove in butter and sugar and cinnamon.  It’s put in the oven with a tart shell covering the pears and tucked around the side of them.  When the tart shell is golden brown, it’s taken out of the oven and inverted onto a pie plate.  I cannot wait for the inversion process, the moment when the pears slide perfectly out of the pan.  “Isn’t it magnificent,” the guests will say.  Yes!  It truly is.  When the tart arrives on its pedestal in all its shining, glossy, buttery glory, it will be something to behold.  I’ll want to take a picture, probably. 

I would never make a Caramelized Upside-Down Pear Tart for me to eat alone.  This dessert is something to be shared, to be enjoyed by others.  Isn’t that also true for our writing?

                A book I’ve been looking at lately about how to get published suggests, first and foremost, that I have a “dynamic” title.  I like my title.  Is it dynamic?  I doubt it.  Have I failed already?  All I hear about is how hard it is to get a book published.  Is there something wrong with me for trying?  Am I way out in left field?  Do I really need to be a marketing genius to get a book published?  Should I just stop now? 

                I’m no genius and I don’t know very much about marketing.  But I do have visions.  I can’t help it.  I have thoughts of a glossy cover; a back photo of Me, the writer, sitting at an outdoor café captured looking sideways in a humble pose.  Me, the writer, who wants to share with you, the reader, about divorcing a man I loved, joining the Peace Corps, being evacuated from Macedonia, then meeting another, more desirable man, and moving with the kids we had together to a country we’ve never been to before and the personal growth that’s happened along the way. 

                I showed the book to a friend.  A lawyer, well-read with a keen eye whom I trust whole-heartedly, she gave me a few suggestions, made some grammatical corrections and told me that overall, she thought the book “wonderful.”  She loved it and wrote the word love in all caps.

                Like my Caramelized Upside-Down Pear Tart, why wouldn’t others want to lean back against a pillow, cup of coffee in hand, and sink their teeth into my adventure, come along with me for a journey, and have a few laughs along the way?  It’s meant to be shared.   I wrote the book for me, but I also wrote it for you. 

                Am I wrong to think that others would want to share this journey?  I’d like to think I’m not.  I’d like to think there’s hope in sharing my creation.

                Do I need to be a marketing genius?  What do you think?