Teatime Reflections on Writing and Agriculture


I’ve been a little scarce lately. This is not because I haven’t been writing. Quite the contrary—I’ve been up to my ears in projects. Aside from the general hubbub of the holidays, here’s what I’ve been up to the past couple months:

  • Drafting Holly’s Portent, book two of my YA fantasy trilogy
  • Prepping for another craft fair in February
  • Sending out my monthly newsletters
  • Managing and planning social media platforms
  • Planning a fundraising campaign for April

2024 is the year I plan to get published. When I sent my manuscript off to Redemption Press about one year ago (the 23rd marks the official “one year” date), I never imagined what was in store for me. God has blessed me abundantly through this journey, and I’m thrilled that the dream is still alive today. Last year was the planting season. This year, it’s harvest time.

As I reflect on my decision to publish, I’m both excited and nervous to hold Lily’s Passage and hand it over to other living souls. Because writing a book is one thing, but publishing one is another entirely.

Writing is an art form, just like theater, ceramics, or architecture. But unlike songs or paintings, books require a great deal of investment from the consumer before they can be fully enjoyed. Even a fast reader puts in far more time and effort consuming a book than in listening to a song. And while most people might be willing to take a chance on a song their friend suggests, fewer people will take the time to finish a recommended book on faith alone. 

In my opinion, this is what makes books harder to market than other forms of entertainment. The time commitment, and that the industry’s greatest strength is also its greatest weakness—there are so many similar titles to choose from. While I’m a firm believer in authors supporting each other—one individual can’t meet all the market demand in a genre—there comes a point when we all ask, is my book even worth it? (The answer is yes.)

Because writing, like other forms of art, is also intensely personal. The ideas in a book came from somewhere. Those characters began as someone in the real world, even if the author was unaware of the connection. Stories often incorporate intimate details from the writer’s own life. Isn’t that what we learned (or were supposed to have learned) in high school English class?

For an author, one of the scariest thoughts is that someone will read their book and miss the personal meaning behind the words. Equally as terrifying is someone finishing the book and understanding everything. Which is worse—to be ignored or to be seen?

This is the balancing act of an author. We hold an intense desire for our voices to be heard, but often succumb to the fear of how people will respond to what we say.

In my own life, I find that honesty really is the best policy. I’ve shared a little about my novel elsewhere in my blog and newsletters, and I make no aim of pretending the story isn’t personal. The plot follows an idealistic and naive girl who wants more from her life than she thinks she’s getting. A classic problem we’ve probably all encountered. While Farrah’s specific path differs from my own, her journey of self-discovery is heavily influenced by my time of finding myself. And since I’m being candid, my other main character Asken is perhaps less fictional than I originally intended for him to be. But I’ll let my readers judge the rest of the book for themselves.

Like other writers, I fear my message won’t be well-received. Though I strive to present the most professional and appealing product I can, there will always be those with criticism. Perhaps this is for good reason. To quote a favorite song of late, “The sun, it does not cause us to grow. / It is the rain that will strengthen your soul.” (“I Have Made Mistakes,” The Oh Hellos)

Indeed, we need both sun and rain. Both encouragement and criticism are necessary for growth. One reminds us we are seen. The other instructs us how not to be ignored.

In this time of impending harvest, I’m thankful for the sun and the rain that have met me. Without either, there would be nothing for me to anticipate this coming season.


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