My entire manuscript is sitting here on my desk and I keep fooling with it. When will I allow it to go forth into the world? When will I feel it is done? How will I know it? I give you the beginning, and maybe that will give me the courage to let it go. "My mother died in the middle of the night during daffodil days. A year later, above Willow Beach, daffodils roam the hillside and brighten a cool cloudless day. The rippling waves of Lake Erie wash over the sandy shore and claim it with the sigh of letting go. Moments after it succumbs to the land, the water pulls back and under, rolling out again, collecting energy and vigor, like a long intake of breath. The water falls into the depths then reaches for the far horizon, a falling and rising that is incessant and urgent, not to be ignored. The ancient rhythm of water calms and rejuvenates me." That wasn't so hard--send me some encouraging words.