A large white envelope sat at the back of my mailbox. I pulled it out along with some bills and junk mail. I thumbed through the pile of magazines, postcards, and decorative postage making sure that every parcel had been delivered to the correct metal box. However, when I got to the large white envelope with a bright yellow redirect sticker plastered on the front with my name on it, I could have sworn right there and then that the United States Postal Service delivered the envelope to the wrong person.
I looked at the envelope again. It had been addressed to me. It was from Amazon Digital Services and the presentation of the envelope prompted me to assume that there was something important inside. I opened up the envelope and looked at the contents with a face that seemed genuinely surprised. I had received my first check from the eBook that I had published online. Continue reading “The First Check I Received As An Author”→
There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are. -W. Somerset Maugham
After the last line was written and the every word had been reread and looked over twice, I felt a sense of relief. I had finished a book and sent the final manuscript in for the final time for publishing, and yet I felt slightly uneasy about the whole thing. I technically completed one of the tasks on my bucket list and I, God willing, still had many more years of life to live without the thoughts of hoping one day that I could become an author. Continue reading ““E” is for Encouragement”→
I’m really starting to realize that God wants me to write. No matter where I go or what I do, opportunities and instances where I’m forced to reconnect with my passion for this crazy occupation seems to creep up and slap me with vigor across my face.
I recently found myself walking around the other day on campus just searching for someone to tell me not to go through it. Yet still, questions about the future and what is yet to come plague my thoughts.
I have been given this overwhelming feeling of just really wanting to write. I don’t want to teach, I don’t want to advise confused students wandering around the campus hallways, and I don’t really want to do other things sort of related to writing that don’t actually involve writing.
My life has become a swirling mess of questions, but in the back of my mind, all I really want to do is rest my fingers on the home row keys and punch out interesting stories or make a difference with various words in which I organize together on paper.
I keep trying to find my way in the world without writing, but the world doesn’t want me to go on. God has intervened, placed an inky pen in my hand, and whispered in my ear for me to write