This morning, I was heading East in the left hand lane of the highway when I spied two Canada Geese and their six or so goslings strutting out from the grassy median, headed for the pavement. As soon as I passed, the parents hurried their babies into the road, and my eyes were glued to the rear-view mirror to check out their fate. “Hurry up, Goosies!” I rooted.
They had a good shot at it, as there were no more cars for about a quarter mile, and that one switched lanes in time to avoid a collision. I held my breath until the family got across, happy to see them arrive at the other side. They still had an off-ramp to negotiate, but as far as I was concerned, they were safe. Directing my attention back to the road, I realized that before their trek across the eastbound lanes, the geese had already crossed one off-ramp and the two westbound lanes.
The parents had seemed to wait for traffic to clear before heading across the highway, but I was impressed that they would take such a risk. Geese are notoriously overprotective of their offspring. Anyone who has ever come too close to a goose with goslings knows that they will hiss, bite and even chase you away if you get too close. The search for a better grazing field must have been imperative.
It occurred to me that writers basically go through all of the stages of eggdom with our manuscripts. An idea presents itself, and we incubate it with our time and creativity until a story hatches out. We nurture our fuzzy chick through the editing process until it is time to send it out into the world of querying to see if it will fly. Sometimes we are driven to make our way through the field of writing groups and critique partners to strengthen and rework our writing for the best results. With vigilance, a lot of luck and a little encouragement from our friends, we make it to the other side in one piece, hopefully wiser and with the experience needed to continue the journey.