For months now, I’ve bullied myself over my book. I harangue myself for being past the deadline–the one I thought I should have reached by now. Each time I read through my manuscript, I make changes and pray they will be the last. Strangely enough, I’m beginning to actually enjoy the process of late. Polishing up my book will simply taking longer than I had anticipated, but will be much better in the end. And besides, why have a deadline?