If my e-mail to friends is the embryo
and my blog post is the (squalling, suckling, sleeping, constantly pooping) infant
and my rough draft is the mischievous child living in a world of his own but still looking for security
and my published story is the worldly teen (but still looking for security)
what becomes the adult Spock with eyebrow raised on the world?
(Damnit, Jim, why does it always come back to Star Trek?)