We talked about a book long in the making

Yesterday afternoon, a dear soul who read a book I've been writing for a long time called, and we talked for quite awhile. 

Those are the conversations you remember, the moments you keep—those quiet hours when you are invited to explain a scene not just for what it is on the page, word by word, the gathering of sentences, but for where it came from, what it means, how it shifted over time.  Such conversations are the fires that burn, that dream you back through the story you've lived for perhaps a decade now.

I never gave up on this book, and because I didn't I had the privilege of yesterday's conversation.