The value of perseverance
I've spent much of this day prepping my next novel for release. Brave the Skies: The Hawk Book Two has been published tonight! As it takes Smashwords/Draft2Digital several hours to get a newly published novel onto the Smashwords store, I have chosen to upload a new book in the evenings, Pacific Daylight (or Standard) Time, then happily find my story the following morning.
Publishing novels isn't an earth-shattering experience, although writing a book and getting it to this stage takes much time, work, self-belief, and assistance from those who have been in my corner for the last thirteen years of indie publication, over seventeen years on my overall authorial journey. For seventeen years I have actively written/revised fiction, and despite the writing feeling a little thin recently, I have been heavy into edits both for The Hawk and The Enran Chronicles. Two series at one time is indeed a LOT of effort, taking away from time I'd love to craft a new story. After Brave the Skies hits online outlets, I have a few months before putting out another tale. Hopefully during those months, I'll be doing more than raising chickens.
The photo above illustrates how a dream can alter, yet remain wholly authentic despite not reaching the imagined stratosphere: My Lucy Boston blocks are indeed part of a quilt WIP, with the Mr. Carter Heart Quilt draped over it at the end of the sofa. While I've been writing far longer than the LB blocks have been around, their integration into my active sewing realm still surprises me. I never thought I'd do anything with them but store them forever in a plastic tote.
The hope and desire to write fiction emerged by accident, or rather God's well-timed plan, depending on your take on faith. In faith I wrote over a hundred thousand words that turned into my first novel, Drop the Gauntlet. In faith I began a story about a couple with rather intriguing backstories set in the early 1960s that evolved into a saga far surpassing anything I had previously written, both for its length and scope. In faith tinged with grief I wrote a tale that turned into the second book of a series I have yet to finish, but in knowing I did reach The End of The Hawk, I am made brave in my wish to at some point add another installment to The Enran Chronicles. When is a topic for another day. Today is about celebrating the overall novel-producing experience.
Or feting any particular marvelous accomplishment, because in current times getting the right thing done feels damn hard. It drifts like an improbable goal. It trembles like a lone leaf on what had been the proudest, tallest tree. Perseverance is necessary in moments like these, in America and other nations currently spiraling out of control. We must remember our small actions are indeed meaningful and important no matter how inconsequential or irrelevant. For these endeavors and accomplishments revive our hearts, breathe life into our bodies, restore our weary, wondering souls. Why write fiction and publish it? Why attend protests in small towns far away from a nation or state capital? Why sew a quilt with blocks made from scraps that no longer appeal to my sense of style? Why not, I counter. This has nothing to do with Past or Future Me. This is about who I am in this sliver of my existence, at this moment of inhalation, then exhalation. Following my heart, I write these words to affirm my creative spark, to applaud abilities honed by much effort, and to stoke the fire for whomever requires that subtle nudge or robust shove. Do not be dissuaded from your dream. It will take courage, time, and work. But at the end of a day, success emerges. Or it will early tomorrow morning, insert winking emoji here!
