For one week, I am helping to sponsor a Valentine's Day Kindle Giveaway through Spirit-filled Ebooks. You will find both of my books on sale for $.99 through this week. If you follow this link you can enter to win!
Here is the book you never wrote. Here are the secrets you couldn't suppress. Here is the heart of what we needed to know. Here is the song you never composed, the poem in its infancy, tiny bones just unbending.
It's the joy a man has, you said - with joy! - even in a broken world. The joy in coaxing music and grace from a thing once dead... The joy in a simple life lived with purpose... The joy in loving one so well and so long that love returned staggers you.
Joy in faith.
Joy in the unknown.
Joy in beauty and truth and hope... Even in sorrow and pain and doubt.
You, with your crooked smile - laughing at yourself, shrugging - said, I want to write about joy, but I don't know how.
Oh my brother, your heart...
Your heart, Your laugh, Your song.
Your love, your mind, your faith, your great soul...
Our marriage ceremony was simple and traditional. Except for a little glitch which resulted in me forgetting to say, “for richer, for poorer,” we made all the usual promises to each other. (Thankfully that richer, poorer thing has never been an issue.) And I’m incredibly blessed to be able to say that we’ve kept our promises almost thirty-nine years now. But lately I’ve been rethinking our vows – not out of doubt or want, but because of the growing realization that there has been so much more; beyond love, honor, and faithfulness. So...these are some of the things I’ve thought about – things we’ve done with and for each other, which maybe could have been part of our wedding ceremony. I WILL LISTEN TO YOU I have listened to you preaching for over thirty years. You say I could preach some of your sermons myself, but I doubt it. Those words have your heart behind them. I’ve listened to your talks with your brothers and cousin, and my siblings. I’ve heard you faithfully talk with your mother,…
It pains me to write this, for it feels like an admission of failure. My book, Waiting for Wren is officially out of print. What does this mean? The publisher hasn't sold enough copies to warrant keeping it in print. For two years my royalty reports have been dismal, and I knew that something wasn't working.
Understand, this is my choice. The folks at Deep River Books didn't make this decision although they agreed with it. It's not cost effective for them either, to keep printing copies and have them sit in the warehouse, unread and unloved.
To what is this poor performance attributed? Not my writing, they assured me. The judges loved it enough to choose Waiting for Wren above three hundred plus novels submitted that year. No one knows, the president of Deep River told me, why one book sells and another does poorly. Wrong timing, slump in the market, lackluster marketing, another book with the same name released the same month. I was advised, two years down the road from…