If you could saw through my skull, attach some kind of a hinge, tilt it open and dump out the contents of my brain…and as it all spilled out, chunks of my heart and soul flopped out, too……that’s what’s been happening for the past few months, leading up to May 1st, the deadline to turn in the draft of my manuscript.I printed out the entire thing and used up a half ream of paper. I set the thing on the table to take the picture. Thud.”Is that it?” one of the girls asked.”That’s it.””Whoa! How many pages is that?””Too many,” I replied. “I have to cut.””You’d better, Mom. Who would read all that?”Good question. I have no idea. No, that’s not true. I do have an idea of who might read it. I have an audience in mind. But I think my child is right. I need to cut it down to the essentials. I mentioned this to The Boy, and he said, “What do you mean, ‘cut it’?””I mean that I’ll take out some words.” I was using a red pen and happened to scratch out a couple of lines at that very moment. “Like that. I decided I didn’t want those lines anymore, so I just ‘cut them.’ We can do it on the computer even easier, just highlighting them and making them go away.””Oh.” I think he was disappointed that no scissors were involved.During this long, drawn-out process, The Belgian Wonder and kids have been super-supportive. They’ve made meals, cleaned the house, left me alone to work, and encouraged me along the way.Just last night I was working late, the kids came rushing in to report on AWANA, and The Boy held this out to me:“What’s this?” I asked.”I got it for you at store night,” he replied. At AWANA, the kids earn “shares” that they can use as money to buy trinkets. He likes to buy gifts.”This is for me?””Yes, it’s for you. It’s for your writing. It’s for a Good Job on Your Book.””Really?”He nodded. “You’ve worked hard. Good job, Mama. Good job on your writing.””I love it,” I said. “I really love it.”He giggled and skipped off to brush his teeth.The writing angel is kneeling and praying–exactly what a writer, or anybody, needs:Humility. Prayer. Angels. Support.I set it on my night stand, a gift of love and symbol of support from a little boy who can barely read.