Another Milestone for Birdie's Book.

Today I finished my careful read through of the manuscript. I have been taking it in smallish chunks, trying to read it aloud in my mind and making changes as they seemed called for.

I haven't had to re-do any more chapters -- but I have beefed up some crucial scenes -- adding a few choice sentences or paragraphs here and there.

And when I got to the end, I felt good about the whole thing. What could be better?

I have my dedication and acknowledgments written; I've called University of Tennessee press to make sure I can quote from an old book they did a reprint of ( bet you didn't know this was the author's responsibility); and now I have to polish the opening chapters of the next book (Under the Skin) so they can be printed as a teaser in the back of this book (The Day of Small Things.)

And I have to think about what I'll be saying when I speak at the Hendersonville Library on Wednesday night. My mind is full of Birdie's book and the next one. But what good to tantalize people with a book that won't be available for months? Or another that isn't even written?

No, I'll have to go back to In a Dark Season, and retrace the Drovers' Road, awaken Ish and Mariah, reacquaint myself with Nola and Big Lavinia, with the Troll and his cats, retrace Lydy's Goforth's brief career, go again with Elizabeth and Phillip to Max Patch and meet with James Suttles.

All these people in my head and all these stories, some told and others waiting their turn . . .