The desire to write has always dwelt within me. But life happened, and I suppose I assumed writing was not meant for me. The first serious writing I did was for NaNoWriMo in 2009, a fictional account of my life. It was catharsis for me, opening old wounds and dealing with them anew. Perhaps I had never truly dealt with some at all. Whatever the case, I was hooked on writing.
My next NaNoWriMo was a novel Like A Cedar In Lebanon. It dealt with things I had written about in my fiction life story. I poured my heart and soul into my novel, but the path to publication seemed daunting, overwhelming, a mountain I feared to climb. So I did subsidy, or vanity press, publishing.
By the time my book was out there, I realized I had broken all the rules of good writing. Although I love my novel, I’m a little embarrassed by the obvious flaws in the craft of writing it contains.
My book released in November 2012. Immediately family and friends bought it, way over-priced, I might add, but out of my control. These people who love me gave great reviews on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Then a dear friend of mine said she bought my book. I hyperventilated and had heart palpitations.
My friend and I go way back to our early teen years. Then we had much in common, but not so today. I remained a conservative Christian, she has not. Our political and religious views are worlds apart. I love her dearly, and I love staying connected with her. But....she was going to read my book – my very, very Christian novel. Should I warn her?
She read it, and gave me a glowing review on Amazon. And that, my friends, is why I write. I want to show God in the midst of a harsh, cruel world. To show Jesus concerned, and at work in the lives of a fallen and flawed humanity.
And if I make some money in the process it would be icing on the cake. A plumber called by God still expects to get paid for his services. A policeman, fireman, and doctor all want to help people but expect to get recompensed. Nothing wrong with a writer expecting the same thing.