Maybe that’s what all the writer angst finally boils down to: we can’t ever express exactly what we hope to. But we can’t not try.
So rather than saying good-bye, I’ll try to explain why being a Deb has meant so much to me. (Maybe in list form. Or in random fragments, or bullet points. We’ll see.)
Because years ago becoming a Deb was just a crazy aspiration. When you dream of getting a novel published you’re really dreaming of all the things that go with it: holding the finished product in your hands, sharing your story with people you’ve never even met, seeing your book in stores. Add “being a Deb” to my list. I’d followed the blog for years and only wished I’d one day be in the position to at least apply.
Because the first book happens once and I didn’t have to do it alone. (Inside jokes. Good news emails. Bad news emails. Long live the long threads of Deb Ball messages.) Years from now, when I look back at the moment in my life when the book finally happened, Lisa, Lori, Heather, and Susan will always be part of the memory.
Because you. Everything a writer does is a letter to you.
Because I probably would’ve gotten so caught up in everything that happened this past year that I’d forget to write about it. Exhibit A: my personal blog? Crickets. But here on the Deb Ball we have each week’s thoughts and milestones. We have a record.
Because look at us, all (kind of) grown up. Moving on to new things as the 2015 Debs wait in the wings. I wish for them what I wish for the five of us and what I wish for all of you in any moment:
May it always feel this new. May it always be this hard to say bye.