I first felt the desire to write a book in college. “Everyone’s writing a book,” one of my college professors said. “You can only say that you are writing a book if you have the title or if you’ve started writing.” So I came up with a title.
I didn’t actually start writing the book until three years ago. I couldn’t sleep one night, so I pulled out my laptop and started typing. As of right now, I only have a few chapters written and a rough sketch of an outline.
After my biopsy scare, I became more motivated to make this dream become a reality. I had lunch a few weeks ago with a fellow writer friend who recently picked up an agent with one of her manuscripts. She was gracious enough to let me pick her brain about book publishing.
“I feel like I have a book inside of me,” I described to her.
“Then get it out. You must write it,” she said.
I walked away from our time together both discouraged and encouraged. It was discouraging to hear how laborious it can be to even pick up an agent, let alone get a publisher to print your book and actually get it on the shelves of a store. And yet I was overly encouraged at the practical advice she gave me about books/blogs to read, conferences to attend, and timelines to not have.
Near the end of our time together – after I shared with her my title, idea, and vision for the book – she looked me square in the eyes and said, “I feel like I’m supposed to tell you to write this book. I don’t claim to hear God speaking to me often, but I really feel like I’m to encourage you to do this.”
As of right now, I’m just a girl (who happens to love God and shoes) with a laptop, a passion for writing, and a dream. We’ll see how/if God opens the doors.