“Put a fork in it.” That’s what my well-meaning husband says about my latest manuscript. I feel like the tortoise in a race — stuck on a treadmill, while he runs laps around me. Writing well is not for the impatient or faint of heart. The more I write and revise, the more I thank God for every day I’ve waited to submit my words, every rejection I’ve received, or every one yet to come. If publication is a last ditch effort toward immortality, it is sheer mercy that some writing will not outlive us.