Perhaps God didn’t infuse a love of writing in my blood at birth, but around age six He surely opened my eyes to the fascinating lure of it. My mother and I stood in front of a downtown’s attorney’s window where my 3rd place story winner hung, entitled, The Puppy’s Surprize. Yes, with a, ‘z’. My mother graciously pointed out the typo, ahem, or writo in this case.
Well, hello Discouragement. Aren’t you just a bowl of cheesecake and laughter?
By fourteen, totally absorbed with horses and Marguerite Henry, I vowed to write my own equine novel, and lugged the manual typewriter to the card table. Thump. Thump. Hmmm. Stare at the walls. This was harder than I had ever imagined.
Dear Mr. D. You’re not always external. Sigh.
Flash forward to me as a young mother, rattling on a Brother word processor. I finally finish my first manuscript! Elation shot through me as I leaped into the air. When I came down, my young toddler son merely blinked at me.
Oh, I’m onto you Big D. Those daily demands can suck the story right out of you.
Inspiration leapt upon me occasionally and I wrote a few nice Christmas plays for my students, a couple of poems strung here and there. A few rogue chapters grabbed me by the throat as I lay my head to the pillow every night and stole my beauty rest.
So sleep deprivation joined ranked with dreaded, shhhh. D.
So I finally gathered enough courage to send in a manuscript. You know, I got the nicest form letter back. Boiled down nice and tight: Rejected. Right. So, onto the next book.
D is often publishers and editor’s strongest tool. And it’s a sharp one. Youch.
Meanwhile life commenced. Children grew. I came across a few handwritten chapters now and again. I taught at church, school, while stories strangled me at night. Yet hope of publication continued to reside oh, so very softly in my chest. My nest emptied and I groped. Life had taken a definite turn. Time yawned open and that soulful tug in my heart nudged again. This time, I set my teeth and prayed. And this is the verse that began to whisper to me.
Delight yourself in the LORD; And He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD, Trust also in Him, and He will do it. Psalm 37:4,5 (NASB)
Delight. Ahhh. A new “D” word. One that made my soul sing. Perhaps I had been so focused on the D in discouragement and had brushed away the “D” in delighting in the Lord?
Since then, I’ve published, won the Genesis award, and acquired an agent. Does the original D still knock on my door? I’d like to say, no, but he’s sitting on my couch today. So I push towards the other D. Because that’s the reason I write. Or live. Friend. . .
Don’t give up.
About Year of Jubilee
Orphaned and widowed, eighteen year old JUBILEE STALLINGS clings to her southern Indiana farm as her only refuge. The wilds of Gibson County are just being tamed in the year of 1850, and Jubilee ekes a meager existence. But when RAFE TANNER, a cousin of her abusive dead husband, shows up with the deed to her property, Jubilee’s dream of her own home dissolves.
Rafe, stinging from his ex-fiancée’s rejection, offers a business marriage, throwing him and Jubilee together in an effort to make the farm successful. But scars from the past keep her in constant fear of her new husband. The pair masquerades as a love-struck couple at Rafe’s family farm, enduring the romantic notions of his family and the jealousy of his ex-fiancée.
Once home, Rafe realizes his newfound love for Jubilee, and sets out to court her. Meanwhile, Jubilee fights demons from her past as her husband reveals his interest. Can Jubilee let go of her distrust and pain to embrace God’s plan of true love and finally find a place to belong?
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