gone and done it this time. I recently
signed up to finish a novel in thirty days. I mean, is this even
possible? I’ve heard of others doing this, so maybe it is doable.
Last month I realized I’d been
sabotaging myself because of fear of
success, thanks to my dear husband, so I decided to take the bull by
the horns and finish a work in progress. I’ve heard of others writing a
book in thirty days, so it could happen, right?
That’s why I jumped on board for this madness. I’ll see what transpires
by the end of the month.
My husband, who has apparently
been waiting for this moment to
arrive, doesn’t think I’ve lost my faculties at all. When I told him of
my decision, he said, “It’s about time,” which I’ve heard him say
before. It’s as though the man loves to push me, I tell you.
You know, I wonder how he’d feel
if I followed him around with a cattle prod, saying, “It’s about time. Moo.”
Ain’t love grand?
Anyway, we recently visited my
elderly mother, who is in the nursing
home. As I attempted to tell Mom about my upcoming project, my husband
jumped in. “She’s stopped being a Caleb and has become a Joshua.”
Gee, thanks, honey. I
feel all warm and fuzzy now.
Mom nodded and smiled, while I
screamed inside, Don’t encourage him further, Mom. You’ll
create a monster.
I craned my neck toward my
husband. “Excuse me?”
“You know, Joshua and
I rolled my eyes. “I know who
they are, but what’s your point?”
He leaned back against the
counter and folded his arms. “When Joshua
and Caleb spied out the Promised Land, Joshua wanted to take it but
Caleb was afraid. Caleb saw all those giants and retreated, but Joshua
said, ‘We can take them.’”
I wanted to stick my fingers in
my ears and sing, La, la, la, la, la.
“Okay.” I eyed him. “So which
one am I?”
“Well … you were Caleb …”
I jiggled my knee. Tread
softly, my little dumpling.
“But you’re Joshua now.”
He continued. “You’ve finally
decided to face your fears and take down the giants.”
I started to agree with him and
tell him I had, but I knew better.
“No, I’m just going to walk around them and ignore them, is all.”
“At least you’re moving now.”
I turned back to Mom. “So, how
was your day today?”
She answered, but I don’t
remember much of what she said. I suddenly didn’t feel like talking.
On the way home, I pondered the
conversation, which can be dangerous
for a person like me. I thought about how much I have been afraid,
wondering what happened to get me here.
I don’t know where things went
wrong, but I used to possess such an
outgoing personality. Even in high school I had more friends than I
knew what to do with. I was a cheerleader, a student council member,
and more. Okay, I know all of this was a long time
ago, but still, why don’t those qualities exude from me now?
they come out of me only when I’m
writing, not when dealing with others. For some reason I have no
problem tossing around my penned words, but when it comes to me, I
prefer to remain hidden. So, what’s wrong with remaining anonymous, you
According to the publishers in
this business, uh, plenty.
Are people never happy?
So I decided to pray about all
of this and ask God for His guidance. “Please, God, show me what You
want me to do.”
A few days later, one of my
publishers recommended I sign up for
Facebook, Twitter, and blogging. Of course, this was not what I wanted
to hear, so I decided to pray again and ask God for
After hearing no harps or
angelic voices, I cracked open my Bible,
and like a magnet, I was drawn to the book of Matthew, chapter 5. I
began to read but paused when I came upon verse 14: “Ye are the light
of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.”
Okay. I do not like the
direction this is going, God.
I read verse 15: “Neither do men
light a candle, and put it under a
bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in
Ahem . . . not crazy
about this one, either.
Then the final clincher: “Let
your light so shine before men, that
they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in
So not the answer I was
I mean, it’s bad enough when my
husband’s right, but now God was in on this, too? And my publisher?
So what does all of this have to
do with writing a novel?
Well, it has everything to do
with that and more. I may be able to
write a book or an article, but if I can’t market either, I’ll fail. I
can’t expect a publisher to believe in me if I don’t believe in myself.
I can’t rely on someone else to promote my work if I won’t do the same.
Did I just say all of that?
See? They’re getting to me
Run, woman. Save
What I don’t understand? All of
these years, God has allowed me to
take a backseat. I even prefer the last pew in church. For some reason,
though, the Big Guy seems to be pushing me forward—again.
I don’t have all the answers as to why He’s doing this, but I can
Perhaps God doesn’t want me to
walk around and ignore the giants. Maybe
He wants me to whip out a slingshot and take the big oxen down, just as
David did with Goliath. I’m sure He wants me to be fearless, just as
Joshua was about possessing the Promised Land. I think He desires for
the light He’s placed inside of me to shine and help others, in spite
of all I’ve lived through. I know my husband wants the same, even
though the little darling prods me every now and
then. He, too, wants me to succeed.
Yet, I wonder. How will God
accomplish this feat in me when I’m
still terrified to let go? I’m not sure, but there are a few words
which come to mind.
I suppose God will have His way
in the end.