What seems like a hundred years ago, Gary and I began working on a small picture book. We were living in Alaska, where inspiration from nature practically beats down your door, begging you to document the other-worldly gorgeousness swirling outside your window.
We worked on it for a long time, then forgot about it, or at least pretended to forget about it. I grew disenchanted with the project. Gary got very busy with work. These things happen, unfortunately.
Well. After a few tweaks and cuts and shaves, it’s done. I mean all the way. We have to upload it to Blurb, have a few ‘dummies’ printed, and then off it will go to a few regional publishers in Alaska. We’re debating about whether to offer it for general sale before we hear back from publishers, but if six months go by and we hear nothing, then we’ll just sell it out of the back of the van, so to speak.
I miss Alaska. My head is still in its clouds. For all its majesty, though, living there was difficult. Gary and I bickered more than we ever have before or since. To be surrounded by such raw beauty and fuss at the one you love is an odd, detached feeling. I don’t miss that part.