I resolved, if I couldn't have it done for Arts Alive in the Dead of Winter, I'd cancel the show. Then in a moment of weakness, after wearing it over like a stone, I decided after midnight to order copies. I didn't go to bed in peace about it.
I woke this morning with worry. You know, she likes to tap on you in the early hours. And not just about the book, although, that was probably the biggest one. All those little and big things you can't do anything about rush under the covers or crowd the pillow.
I thought where did that calm go when I was in the Valley of the Shadow of Death? These problems are nothing. I got up and got into God's Word, as I prayed. I refuse to worry. She can have no home in my bed.
Some rules about the book. I can't link it for reviews. I ask you to give honest reviews when you read it. Createspace store gives me the highest royalty, but if you can't get to it, don't worry. Smile.
I know this is the first edition. I hope to improve it. I need to take classes, instead of trying to teach myself. I need to spend more time with getting a manuscript ready to publish.
I plan soon to publish a small books of poetry. That may help with my learning formatting easier. I envision it with some cool photography from my friend Sylvia Craig. This is all after I get back on my feet with a return to work next week. I'd say by Easter, but it's early this year.
Writing has to be my focus, now. I have Walking with Eternity first draft before me. After reading and proofing Outside of Time many times, I'm living Amy and Barry Wilson's life. Which is what story is.
I have some doubt, especially reading Stephen King's On Writing. I guess my excuse when I was young, I couldn't type. I definitely, as I've noted before, was too practical. Nursing is a good career to fall back on, almost too comfortable. In the book, Mr. King did make some reference to those writers who begin at fifty- when he was in college. It wasn't an encouraging reference. But I began and will continue to slug it out. As the man asked Jesus when his son foamed at the mouth, "Lord, I believe, help my unbelief."
I thought how I decided on nursing as a career and felt I needed to use my hands for God. I toyed with the idea of being a preacher. Maybe using my hands was for writing.
Then I also think of Mr. Yarian telling me I had the gift of writing, but I needed maturity to find and write the stories. I loved he believed in a starry eyed seven teen year old.
As I dedicated this book to my husband, David, he has been encouraging me more lately. He also is giving practical advice. On Christmas Eve, when he admitted he read Summer Triangle and it made him cry ... and laugh, my heart soared. One reason, I called this Christmas, a Hope Christmas and I chose Hope as my word for 2016.
A bit of doubt, but I plow on a head.
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