An Indie's Prayer, by M. Edward McNally - Sarah Woodbury

An Indie’s Prayer, by M. Edward McNally

From my friend Ed, reposted with his permission from:

Dearest Digital Gawd, now available as gif, jpeg, or bit map,

Give me this day a couple uninterrupted hours,
As I swore to myself I would have this chapter done Tuesday,
and now it is Thursday.
No wait, it’s Friday.
How did I lose a whole day and this thing still isn’t done?

Grant me the serenity to just let that idiotic comment on facebook pass by,
Lo, though it is the stupidest thing anyone has ever said, ever, and it vexes me sorely,
And though I have typed a long, witty rejoinder that no one with half a brain could possibly argue,
Just let me hit delete instead of post this one time, and return to my labors.

Cyber Gawd, grant me the courage to write with honesty,
Even though technically I’m making all this stuff up.
If that’s what the story wants, that’s what the story gets,
And let not me pull my punches.

Oh, Editor Above, please for to make with the grammars and such,
Even when I’m typing really fast, and my verbiage may seem most strange,
And the colons begin to lie down with the semicolons,
Let me sort all that out later, as this is a draft.

Great Reviewer on high, grant me the patience to not check sales every four minutes,
Or look for a new review every seven minutes,
Or see if somebody commented on my blog in the last eleven minutes,
Or, in any other way, to Google myself.

And, Sweet Redeemer, if it’s not too much trouble,
If you could put something edible in my fridge today, apart from ketchup and cocktail olives,
As I’ve been meaning, but only meaning, to get to the store,
That would be swell. But no more beer, thanks. I’m set.

Heavenly Plotter, please touch my characters’ hearts with mercy,
So that they will do what I want them to do just this one time,
Instead of complicating the plot so I’m going to need like two more chapters here…
Actually, strike that, that’s the best part of the book.

Most wholly holy of holies, let me not look haughtily askance at any of your creations,
Even if they end in –ly, or are otherwise misshapen.
For to everything there is a season, and a purpose under heaven,
Even adverbs.

Big Space Pooba, grant me the wisdom to distinguish
The bits I just happen to love, from the bits that actually move the story forward,
And give me the strength to ix-nay the loved bits sometimes,
But not every time, as this is not Paint By Numbers.

Let me write one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking the world outside as it is,
While having the world in my head and heart as I would have it,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy in the next.


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