My hometown recently hosted an author festival. Thirty authors set up their tables, complete with vertical displays, dishes of candy and an assortment of books.
After I set up my table, I roamed through the library and visited with the other authors. This library was the modern version of the old Carnegie library where I grew up. Mom drove us to town each week so we could check out a stack of books.
Who would have guessed that little girl who loved to read would some day return as a published author? Only the God of returned hope.
But this day included more of a helping attitude. Although I sold some books, I was also able to share with other readers how my books came to be — the life issues that impacted me.
One reader wanted to write, but she was stuck. She wanted so desperately to finish her book, but she felt blocked and unable to continue. So we talked about the issues that often stop our creativity. As I listed them, she grabbed my hands and said, “That’s it! Perfectionism. I keep going back to make everything perfect.”
“Ah-h. So remind yourself that a good editor will fix any mistakes. Keep writing, because you can always revise later.”
She seemed relieved and wanted to know more about my coaching services.
Another reader picked up my book Sometimes They Forget. She read the back blurb, and tears formed as she said, “This is about Alzheimer’s?”
“Yes. My mother had Alzheimer’s, but this book is for the caregivers.”
“I need this. We’re trying to take care of my mother, but it’s so hard. How many years was it for you?”
When I told her it was ten years and Mom passed last December, she closed her eyes. “That long,” she said. She seemed tired.
“You have to take care of yourself. It’s okay to leave for a while and get away. Don’t give in to false guilt.”
She nodded, hugged my book to her chest and moved on. I watched her as she took time to look at other books, bought a few, filled her bag with more hope.
A young couple stopped at my table and looked at all the books. Ate some candy. Then she picked up Uploading Faith: What It Means to Believe.
“That’s the book my son and I wrote,” I said. “He’s a millennial, so we wanted to write a book together to explain some of the topics of faith. And we wanted to do it in easy-to-understand language.”
“We’re millennials,” she said. “I think we need this.”
It was fun to share the proceeds of that book with my son and tell him about this couple. I hope the book will help them.
Several women were intrigued by The Invisible Women of Genesis. A couple of them bought the book. When I explained the background, they nodded. “The Bible is full of amazing stories, but many of the women are invisible. Their names aren’t mentioned or any of their back story. I decided to write about the invisible women just in the book of Genesis.”
As I signed copies, I wrote, “You are never invisible to God. He sees you.”
A pastor and his wife were both writers. His books are published. Hers have yet to be finished. “Time,” she said. “There’s never enough time, and people keep dying at inconvenient times.”
I remembered Mom saying something similar at the funeral of one of our relatives. “Death is never convenient.” So true.
One of the more interesting authors I met was an Episcopal priest. He writes murder mysteries. We discussed ways to kill off the bishop. He’s a bit worried about the NSA checking his online research as he looks for the best ways to get blood stains out of the carpet.
So many genres. So many interesting authors.
But this day of returning hope manifested on so many levels:
- Returns on my books as offerings of hope
- Returns on my years of experience as an author and coach
- Returns on relationships as I visited with family and friends
But mostly a return of the soul of a reader who became a writer — back to the place where my love of words began.
©2022 RJ Thesman – All Rights Reserved Check out the list of my books on my Amazon Author page. Find the hope in every title.