“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.