Missing in Action and Getting a Book Deal
“I am here. I am here. I’ve already seen the bottom so there’s nothing to fear. I’ll be ready when the devil comes near.”
About a week ago I got a sweet message from an old friend asking how I was doing. Wondering why there was no email from The Sacred and the Absurd each month. Was I OK? Well my friends, I am alive and well but my writing side-gig did get put on hold this past year. Let me tell you the shortish version of the story.
It was this time last year that the realization of two dreams started to take shape. My youngest child had just graduated high school and I had been on the hunt for something new since she began her grade 12 year. I had been exploring different options when an opportunity to teach a grade five/six classroom came along. My favorite job. My favorite grades. A five minute drive from my house.
Admittedly, I was terrified because I had been out of the teaching game for over twenty-four years but still so excited. In the middle of angst-filled prepping and planning last August my husband asked me how long I have wanted to be a teacher. I answered, “since I was about six.” Even Though I had tried to convince myself out of it many times after being told by countless adults, including other teachers, to not bother because “there’s no money in it”, having my own classroom again still felt like a dream come true. Teaching, as they say, is a passion project. It is well known and joked about that teachers aren’t going into the profession to make all the money. But if it’s in your blood and in your heart, then there isn’t much you can do about it. You will get drawn back in eventually.
So here I am, still standing after a year of learning curriculum, assessment, twenty-six children and their parents, a new staff, all the programs, and being sick about 187 times. I am exhausted but happy and looking forward to year two. After lots of reading and resting and hiking and all the summer stuff, of course.
But what about the second dream? Well, it was also about a year ago that I discovered that a small publishing company was accepting book proposal applications. As I have shared in an earlier blog post, I have been slowly plunking away on a book about courage. The fact that, most of the time, I am filled with fear about the prospect of writing a real, live book is a level of irony that is not lost on me. However, just like the desire to be a classroom teacher, the compulsion to write just doesn’t go away.
I’m sure you have already pieced it all together; yes, I sent in my proposal and, yes, they accepted it.
When I signed the contract with the publishing company I agreed to have the book finished by January. Yes, I was confident that I could, both teach full-time, for the first time in 24 years as well as finish the second half of a book. This is the point in the story where the teacher crowd will laugh knowingly. Go ahead, it is not the first time I have provided comic relief. I had also planned to throw a few blog posts in there as well. So as it turned out that, no, that was not actually humanly possible. At least not for this human. Fortunately when I went back to the publishers explaining that I was going to need a very significant extension, they basically said, yeah, we wondered about that. No problem.
Now here I am, enjoying the summer by getting outdoors, getting up early to water my plants, finding quiet swimming holes, and camping with my family. But I am also closeting myself away to write and edit and rewrite and read and wonder. I decided to jump start the writing habit by retreating to the beautiful and peaceful house of an old friend for a few days. I am ensconced in her lovely downstairs suite. I surface for coffee or wine on her deck where we have sweet chats. I am feeling extremely grateful. But the task still feels ominous.
As I have moved slowly toward this book becoming a reality there have been thousands of doubts, insecurities, and inner critics screaming at me. One of the objections that my brain came up with was the fact that, from a lot of angles, my life has been very privileged. I have not had to flee a war torn country or survive a refugee camp. I have always known that, if my life went completely sideways, there would be some measure of a safety net and I would not be living on the street. In the last two years, alone, I have met individuals where this was not their reality. I have met people who have overcome some of the most terrifying circumstances and, despite everything, are currently thriving. They should be writing the book, not me.
The mental critic would challenge, What do you know about courage? What could you possibly write about? Time and time again I have had to put my hands on my hips and proclaim to the little bullies in my brain that I have had my own fears. I still do. I have known crippling anxiety and stared down darkness that seemed bottomless. But in that I have also heard the quiet but firm voice of God, usually in His word, beckon me to have courage. I know what it is like to shut my ears because it has felt like my pain is being mocked and then to come to the realization that God’s call for us to have courage is tender and gracious. It is His validation that, regardless of however we may categorize our fears, God knows they are real and require courage to face the battle alongside Him. We may minimize or dismiss our fears when we compare them with what others have faced but He does not.
So the book I am writing, Courage, Dearheart is a book about everyday courage. It is told through my stories, which I trust will be relatable, as well as stories and teaching from the bible where we find the ultimate Hero’s Journey in Jesus Christ. I want to share how I have come to realize that, like God’s call for us to repent, His call for us to have courage begins and ends with love and requires an intimate knowing of Him.
I also want to thank my faithful readers and friends who have encouraged me and even sought me out to find out why I have been MIA on the blog. Thank you for not laughing or looking at me sideways when I first told some of you that I was writing a book. Thank you for not telling me I told you so when I said that it was, in fact, not possible to write a book as well as teach full-time. I did, however, see some of your lips twitch when I finally resigned to reality. So tell all your friends to tell all their friends. And so on. And so on. Pray that I will be diligent and work hard and be faithful to complete the project. From here on out, you will be the first to know about anything book-related because you have been here for all of it and I am grateful.
Blessings,
Sheena
