Into the Fire

There's no shame in wondering about the book you just finished writing after having started it literally years ago. After pumping out seven novels in a regular timeframe (whatever that was), all of a sudden the normal "break" after finishing the seventh turned into an ongoing absence from organized fictional composition. This blog became the main source for any creative construction – and definitely didn't fill the gap for storytelling.

The silence of no new novels grew to an enormous noise in my head. Are you done? Was that it? Is it over? I don't know why it took the time it did. I don't know why I stopped writing for a season. And I really don't know why this idea spanned years before I got the semi-gumption to put it to "paper" and let the voice in my head out for a run. I do know God has His timing, and although I'm sure I contributed to the slowing of that timing, He allowed me that time to regroup and recover the missing link of discipline which can be so easily vacated – for me. 

Race is not my usual novel. (And, no, Race has nothing to do with the color of people's skins.) It takes place back at a Thoroughbred racetrack (like my first novel Hope of Glory). Yes, the romance within its pages is me, me, and me. The contrast between the worldly view of life and behaviors and that of a Christian lifestyle is again the common denominator in all of my novels. But this book is a mystery of sorts but probably doesn't adhere to whatever that formula is because the "proper" genre formulas for novels elude me. To tell you the truth, I don't know how to classify this one. 

I can say Race has been the most difficult to write because I was totally in unfamiliar territory, and I'm fairly positive it'll show. I completely froze up during the writing of this book for fear of making inexcusable errors. I had excellent help in the beginning from a detective willing to give me succinct and thorough answers to my questions and inquiries. He encouraged me not to worry about certain things because they can be unpredictable. He has no idea how much I appreciated his help and how I'm torn between mentioning his name with special thanks or not because I don't want anyone to think he's somehow in any way responsible for the probably multiple procedural mistakes I made. Let me shout it out right now: HE'S NOT! 

It's been a tough road back, but I'm done with one story and have two more waiting for their turns. 

So. This Friday has me being thought-full. I chose this picture above because the expression of this beautiful lady in the picture captured my pensive mood and wonderings. 

Father, you nudged and prodded. I finally responded. The rest is all yours. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.