I was surprised and honored. I said yes. It would be my labor of love for my teacher, whom I admired and learned so much from. But at the time, I had no idea just how much labor it would be.

Jane gave me five versions of Homer’s manuscript—most partially written, all typed single-spaced.

For six years of marathon sessions at my paper-covered dining table, I sorted through what to keep from each version so Barry, my husband and world’s greatest typist, could prepare a single computerized draft.

Every vacation I took the book with me—to the beach, on the ship and the plane, and in hotel rooms.

This book was tricky. It did not fit neatly into any single genre. Homer was adamant about wanting general readers to enjoy it.

It was more difficult to finish Homer’s book than to write my own!

Finally, I distilled his five versions into one. With excitement, I submitted the manuscript to four literary agents.

They responded positively but declined to represent the book, saying it was “too academic.”

I was completely spent and frustrated. Hopelessness stalked me for six months. I kept asking, “Now what do I do?”

My realization was like slow, creeping fog.

I was a shy old lady. I knew zero about publishing, marketing, or publicity. I needed maximum help if this book was to be published, publicized and marketed before I, too, died.

I needed full immersion help on all fronts and from every angle—full baptism. I did not even know what I did not know that had to be done to accomplish my goals.

Then, presto! My answer arrived by serendipity a few months later.

I answered a call from a colleague who was a Quantum Leap member and told me about the program.

How does an elderly woman like me enter a totally new experience and course of instruction?

Would it be like college? A seminar? A business meeting? Or something else?

Whatever it would be, I decided I would approach it sponge-like—drawing up nourishment in the form of ideas, instruction, emotional support, and trial and error, from everyone I met and worked with in the program.

For me, Quantum Leap ran on several parallel and simultaneous tracks, each episodically overwhelming. Maybe it is the same for every participant.

My first focus was finding an editor to help me wrangle the book. This task was more difficult than it looked because our book was so thorny—a new idea in stilted academic language, but pitched for a general reader at an 11th-grade reading level.

I went through three editors before finding one who could begin to grapple with the book’s intricacy and need for extensive reorganization.

While editing was ongoing, I worked with every consultant to learn the tools and how-tos of publishing, marketing and publicity.

My knowledge base grew rapidly—what needed to be done as well as how to do it.

I gained clarity in thinking and discovered the process of letting my light shine and not hiding it under the proverbial bushel basket.

“Claim your expertise,” Steve shouted. I did so with gusto, and nervously told on stage at a meeting who I was—“The Emotional Conditioning Expert”—and what I did.

Steve’s mantra was “stumble forward.” Keep trying, discovering, meeting people, and making connections. Someone you meet today may be a connection later on, something you or he or she wants to accomplish.

It was not easy to always move or stumble forward. The days of dealing with three editors, five literary agents, and seven publishers were like walking in thigh-deep molasses.

But days of doing radio interviews, interviews for written media, and having online publications accepted were days of tripping lightly over the tops of waves. These forward moves were fun and I delighted in them. They kept me sane while the book rearranging and editing ground on. I did an additional 12 complete book edits; my editors did five complete revisions.