{"id":147,"date":"2012-12-03T07:32:17","date_gmt":"2012-12-03T07:32:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/?p=147"},"modified":"2014-01-22T11:03:54","modified_gmt":"2014-01-22T11:03:54","slug":"holding-on-letting-go","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/robinbotie.com\/blog\/holding-on-letting-go\/","title":{"rendered":"Holding on, Letting Go"},"content":{"rendered":"

On Friday I gave my manuscript to an editor I\u2019d met recently who didn\u2019t know me or my story. I delivered it to her and then had to tear myself away. It was like leaving my precious newborn child off at a strange babysitter\u2019s place for an undetermined amount of time. During the ride home, I fretted about the 200-page bundle I\u2019d hugged and held and written my heart inside-out in.<\/p>\n

\"HoldingOn-LettingGo\"<\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0 On Saturday, to keep my mind off the manuscript, I photoshopped. I sifted through all my files and folders and flagged a few photos that called to me. Like the ones of water and rocks. And always, Marika. I found some old pictures of her and then cobbed all the images together in Photoshop. This captured and calmed some of my inner turmoil. It all seems to be about holding on and letting go.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh no!\u201d I\u2019d cried out in the middle of the photo lab one especially challenging day. \u201cI lost it. She\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t lose anything when you photoshop,\u201d said Harry, who teaches the class. \u201cIt\u2019s all right there. It\u2019s just hidden in another layer.\u201d And in another click or two my dear constructed vision was restored before my eyes.<\/p>\n

I dabbed and pecked at my composition a while longer. When the images were all satisfactorily glommed onto a page and printed out, I could hold it in my hand. Or put it away in a box somewhere. So then I had ice cream and gave the dog a long bellyrub.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

On Friday I gave my manuscript to an editor I’d met recently who didn’t know me or my story. I delivered it to her and then had to tear myself away. It was like leaving my precious newborn child off at a strange babysitter’s place for an undetermined amount of time. During the ride home, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[24],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-147","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-24"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t