Letting Go

Today, I sent one of my essays out to seek its fortune.  The Howard County Tragedy, without its postscript, has been 'given' to Belmont, the house about which it was written.

I feel excited; I feel satisfied that it has gone where it needs to 'live', even if only in the digital and/or paper files of the current administrators of the estate.  Hopefully it will be shared, and others will be reminded of people who have lived and died, and momentous events which have taken place, in the space they now occupy.  Maybe they will experience the awareness of layers of time and events which can inhabit a geographic space.

On the other hand, I am experiencing that annoying feeling that it could have been more effectively written, that it should have had a better ending that brought it full-circle, that the reader will have questions which I didn't fully answer.  I will work on these things.  How do you know when a piece is finished?  How do you, or should you even, resist the urge to tweak and refine a piece of writing every single time you read it over?  I've printed out a copy of the submitted essay, and I'm going to start listing and tweaking and refining anew.  That way, on the off-chance that someone requests its use somewhere in the future, I may have the opportunity to add improvements.

Fare well, little essay.

10/14/15