The proofs for my book have arrived. I've been tiptoeing around them for several days now. I can't seem to muster the courage to look at them closely.
When I signed for the Fed Ex package it was a whole different story. I was giddy. I couldn't stop touching the pages. They looked so much like a book, and I was dangerousy tempted to believe that I'd be publishing one come September. I even invited two neighbors in to see them. But when one of them picked up the pages and started to skim the words I quickly snatched them away, "You don't have to read this now," I said.
And that seems to be the theme these days. I can't seem to bring myself to really look at the words and face their flouderings and flabbiness. I'm dreading this as anyone might dread a trip to the dentist--only in this case, I have to be both the white-knuckled patient gripping the arms of the dental chair and the dentist shining a bright light into the cavern of my own mouth, looking for cavities and expecting the worst.