The eternal gap between an exciting new idea and a fully finished physical product expands nearly at the same rate as the universe. The mounting burden I place upon myself is evident to any onlooker. The pencil-thin lines of wrinkles, clustered near the center of my forehead, underscore the clicks and clacks of relentless keystrokes. With each keystroke, I don't inch closer to the finish line; I move a nanometer closer.

The subtle wrinkles that appear at the corners of my mouth, which spread into a smile with each page I complete, betray a game designer's kind of "masochism-lite." I eagerly seize any opportunity when someone allows me to discuss the ideas and art of the book. I restrain myself so as not to overwhelm them with the details that, at this juncture, thrill perhaps only me. I understand that others will appreciate a completed book, not necessarily for its scope or their enjoyment of its content, but recognizing the inherent challenge in writing a book. I don't anticipate the same level of excitement from them when I meticulously format the text so it gracefully flows around an image, making the presentation burst with attention to detail. Those incredibly passionate and nerdy moments are for me, and I cherish the myriad such moments this book creation offers.

The entire process, immersive at each stage and occasionally overwhelming, turns each completed page into a mini-celebration. I eagerly await the day I upload the book in its final form, yet I have this inkling that I won't be entirely satisfied. With infinite time and keystrokes, there's always room for a bit more polish. I believe I'm misconstruing that passionate drive; it's not about doing more for this project. Rather, it's about embarking on more projects!

But let's finish this one first!