My friend, Landon Whitsitt, and I have an ongoing argument about a particular metaphor. When you complete a piece of art—a poem, book, sermon, painting, or (in Landon’s case) song—what is that process like?

For Landon, it’s like giving birth. He is the father of four, and so he knows a lot about the process. But birth doesn’t seem quite right to me. Perhaps it was my physical proximity to the birthing process that makes it feel like an unfit metaphor. 

Birth was much bigger than a book for me. Plus, my egg played host to the sperm, my womb nurtured the fetus, and I have mothered my daughter for 13 years. But she is a different person than me.