There are moments in writing that every author imagines. Typing “The End.” Holding the first proof copy. Seeing your book listed online for the first time.

This week I reached another one of those milestones.

After months of editing, revising, proofreading, formatting, and uploading files, The Space Between Songs is officially scheduled for release. The Kindle edition is available for preorder, the paperback is ready for release, and the hardcover is making its way through its final review.

Seeing all three editions lined up on my publishing dashboard was exciting, but in many ways this story didn’t begin this year.

It didn’t even begin with Anywhere But Here.

It began more than twenty years ago.

In 2005, as my first marriage was falling apart, I found myself turning to writing in a way I never had before. Over a three-day weekend, I sat down and wrote the first eight chapters of a novel called Shadows. The story poured out of me. I wasn’t thinking about publishing or selling books. I was simply telling a story that had taken hold of my imagination.

Over the next several years, I continued writing until the novel was complete.

Then it sat on a shelf.

Life happened. I continued teaching. I raised my family. I kept writing other things, but Shadows waited patiently.

Finally, in 2017, I decided it was time to share it.

Looking back, I smile a little at that first publication. The novel was only about 45,000 words. I knew almost nothing about book formatting or publishing. I didn’t understand trim sizes, typography, margins, ISBNs, or distribution. I simply wanted to hold my book in my hands and make it available to anyone who wanted to read it.

And people did.

The readers who found Shadows genuinely connected with Jessi’s story. Their encouragement meant the world to me. Whenever I mentioned the possibility of expanding the novel someday, there was understandable hesitation. People liked the story they had read, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to change something that already meant something to readers.

Then I wrote Anywhere But Here.

Writing Michelle’s story changed me as an author. By the time I finished that novel, I had grown tremendously—not just technically, but in my understanding of character and storytelling.

When I picked up Shadows again, I saw something I hadn’t fully realized years earlier.

Jessi deserved more.

She deserved to be every bit as strong, resilient, and complex as Michelle had become. She deserved a richer backstory, deeper relationships, greater challenges, and the opportunity to truly earn the hope she finds at the end of her journey.

So instead of simply revising Shadows, I began writing the story that surrounded it.

I wrote the beginning that explained how Jessi arrived at her darkest moments. I wrote the ending that explored healing, forgiveness, friendship, and finding home again. Along the way, existing scenes expanded, relationships deepened, new characters emerged, and familiar ones became far more fully realized.

What had once been a 45,000-word novel slowly transformed into a 164,000-word novel.

The original Shadows still exists.

Today, it lives as Part Three of The Space Between Songs.

In many ways, it became the heart of a much larger story.

The last few months have been an entirely different kind of journey.

Readers often imagine that once the writing is finished, the hard part is over. In reality, that’s when a different kind of work begins.

I’ve adjusted margins and spacing. I’ve rebuilt chapter headings, corrected blank pages, reformatted the manuscript more times than I can count, uploaded revised files, redesigned covers, learned the differences between Amazon KDP and IngramSpark, and spent countless hours making sure the finished book looked as professional as the story deserved.

One of the most valuable parts of that process came when I received the printed proof copy.

For the first time, I wasn’t reading as the author trying to improve every sentence.

I was reading as a reader.

I found eleven small corrections. A few formatting issues. A handful of sentences that needed polishing.

What surprised me most was what I didn’t find.

I didn’t find scenes I wanted to rewrite.

I didn’t find conversations that needed major changes.

For the first time, I simply enjoyed reading the story.

That realization was incredibly freeing.

Writers are notorious for believing every manuscript can always be improved. There is always another sentence to tweak or another paragraph to rewrite. Eventually, though, every writer has to decide when a book is finished.

For me, this was that moment.

The beta readers loved the story. My Authorcraft manuscript review validated what I had hoped—that the foundation was solid. Reading the proof confirmed it.

The story was ready.

Another milestone during this project was something I’ve dreamed about for a long time: publishing under my own imprint, Manzano Moon Press.

Seeing that logo on the cover means more to me than most people probably realize. It represents years of dreaming about becoming not just a writer, but an independent publisher who takes ownership of every part of the creative process.

Writing the novel was only one part of this journey.

Building the book was another.

As challenging as independent publishing can be, I wouldn’t trade the experience. Every lesson I’ve learned—from formatting and cover design to ISBNs and distribution—will make the next book even better.

And thankfully, there will be a next book.

Bear and Becky’s story is already waiting.

For now, though, I’m simply taking a moment to appreciate this one.

A story that began during one of the hardest seasons of my life in 2005 has finally become the book I always believed it could be.

On July 18, 2026, The Space Between Songs will finally be released into the world.

I can’t wait to share Jessi and Ryan’s story with all of you.

Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me, read early versions, offered feedback, attended book signings, or simply followed along with this journey. Your support has meant more than I can ever adequately express.

Sometimes stories take the long road.

This one certainly did.

And I think it’s stronger because of it.