Ode to Horatio
I realize that I have been a bit remiss on my blog, but I have been occupied. I started writing a novel in the spring of 1999 and it just went to press on March 29, 2012. That means that I successfully procrastinated the completion of this novel for almost 13 years. When I finished I felt exhausted. At first I thought that I may have the flu. It’s really going around up here in Port Angeles, Washington. But in the end I determined that it was my body and mind shutting down after the completion of a huge project. I probably would not have finished if it had not been for my daughter, Jenni Secrist, pestering me.
I hired Jen to type my manuscript into the computer. I am a hunt and peck kind of guy when it comes to typing and she can type fairly well. The problem is that I hired her in 2005 when she was a senior in high school. The pay wasn’t alot and she only typed two tablets, or basically, two chapters. I used to write out my books long hand on yellow legal pads. It was a hassle, but I felt as though ideas came very readily in that format. The truth was that I commited a huge error on that novel. I started it without knowing how it ended. I envision a good read as a gift to the reader, or perhaps a journey. I want my readers to feel rewarded for their time and effort and I like to bring them full circle. All three of my novels basically end in some fashion with the players and the place that they began. I’ve found that this gives the reader a sense of accomplishment as the last page is turned. A good book is akin to a fine meal, just the right amount and flavor. I love the feeling after finishing a quality read. I try to make sure I’m alone and it is quiet. There is a reverence to it that adds to the pleasure.
Jenna kept needling me about how the book would end. I decided that I needed to finish it and I am proud to say that it is the finest thing I’ve ever written. Self publishing is what it is and I am taking the next step. I like to watch the first two episodes of American Idol each year. I am amazed at how deluded some of the people are who think that they can sing. I had an epiphany while I watched in January. Maybe this writer is as deluded as some of these fools trying to become professional singers!
I decided that I am going to submit my latest novel, The Resurrection Factor, to an agency to have it reviewed on the Internet. Their appraisal will be posted for all, or some, to read. It is time to put up or shut up. I will turn 54 in July (Lord willing) and I am at a new chapter in my life. I retired from air traffic control 4 years ago and I think I’ve finally got the Federal Aviation Administration out of my blood. I no longer dream of airplanes so that’s a plus. I published my second book of poetry last year (To My Annie Book 2) and whatever happens with the review of my latest novel will not impact my will to keep writing poems of love and woe. I will, however, stop beating my head against the wall and give up novels if these professional folks give me the Simon Cowle version of, “Mr. Powers, your writing stinks!”
I do have 5 more books story boarded and maybe I won’t write them. I looked at my book on Amazon.com today and purchased the kindle version of The Resurrection Factor. I was a little distressed to discover that one of my favorite authors, Josh McDowell, had published a Christian work of the same name based on the apologetics of explaining the life and saving work of the Lord Jesus Christ. I should have checked first as Josh published his work in 2001, but maybe that’s just more evidence that I need to shut down my writing. But maybe not - lots of book, movies and songs have the same title, right? I just had a vision of Paula and Randy throwing tomatoes at me!
I had these thoughts in my mind as I went to church yesterday. You see, it is like all things - it is simply a matter of perspective. When we started to sing the old hymn, “It is well with my soul” (a jazzed up version with guitars and drums - we can’t leave anything alone!) I thought of the writer of the classic song. Horatio Spafford had just learned that his four daughters were killed when their ship went down in the Atlantic. I’m sure he cried, but then he sat down and penned this great song of worship and praise for the Eternal God of the universe. When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll - Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.
Here’s a man who seemingly lost it all, but he did not become bitter. He did not rage against God. He simply accepted the tragedy and worshipped! I think we all take ourselves too seriously at times. Yes, I would love to sell my books, but in the end, it is the path that is invariably more significant than our earthly destination. Spafford’s song ends with him in glory. In Heaven, he will see his family again. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective. Becoming a best selling author will not make me one bit happier than I am now. I have a good retirement, a home and a woman that loves me with all of her wonderful heart. Two more grandkids are coming this year and that will give us four gifts from two of our five terrific children. I didn’t sing yesterday. I laughed inwardly about how silly the things can be that rob our joy. Simon and company, do your darndest! I didn’t sing along yesterday. Instead I pondered a man who faced down adversity with praise. Instead, I smiled as I gave my silent ode to Horatio.
