the wind beneath my lil' ole wings

Iffen this lil' ole book o' mine ever done get published [insert "pipe dreeeeam"] the dedication page'll have my husband's name all over it, shore nuff.  Law!  I tell ye, that man is workin' darn near as hard on this thing as me.

(My book does not take place in the 19th century deep south, by the way.  Its just that I've been reading Stawberry Girl to the kids.  Good book about Florida Crackers, if you like learning about tucked-away American subcultures.)

Anyway...

Here's how it goes (with Daniel and me).  I write something, a page or two, and he sits down and reads it before the end of the day.  He is downright ruthless with a highlighter, for which I am so very glad.  He'll say something like, "Your character here is a man.  A man might feel that way, but he could never express himself like that, not without weeks of counseling.  He's hurt, but he's going to come off as defensive.  His pride has been wounded, so he's going to establish himself even more."

And then I set back to work, until I get it right.  I can always tell when I get it right, because a very particular smile spreads across Daniel's face when he reads it.  Like I've hit some sort of sweet spot.  Like I've reached him. 

When he is satisfied, I move on to the next page.  And so it goes.  I simply could not do this without him.

Like tonight, for example.  Per Rachel's encouragement and as a result of her research (are you seeing a pattern in my life of gleaning from the fruits of other people's research?) I am signed up for a webinar on catching and keeping a literary agent [insert "quaking in my boots"] but here's the thing: due to the time difference, I'll be waking up at 2:00 a.m. for this webinar.  Yikes!  Its certifiable now.  I've lost it.  Daniel, early morning meeting the next day and everything, is planning to wake up with me and make sure I get logged into the webinar without a hitch.  What a dude, huh?

He is the wind beneath my lil' ole wings.