I'm Going to Miss My Characters

It was only two years ago in Hawaii when Don turned to me and asked, "Why don't you try writing some fiction?"

I agreeably replied, "Okay, I'll go upstairs and get my notebook." Up until that point, I had written hundreds of books and seminars for corporations and colleges. "The Spirit Series," a non-fiction series based in real life, was in my pocket already and up and running in seven countries. I had nothing to lose, and so I started that very moment, and have loved it ever since.

Now, I'm approaching the last chapter in the fifth and final book in "The Faith Series." It makes me very sad to leave these youthful characters behind to go onto a more mature series for the twenty-something crowd. I have fallen in love with my characters! Lilia has grown up in the five books. She was eleven-years old in the beginning, and we leave her in the fifth book at the age of eighteen. Jim is two years older, and many of their friends are well into their twenties at the end of the series.

I know who each of my characters is because I based them on people I have actually known. Some characters are composites of several people. The truth is that writing about these characters has made me very happy. I grow lonesome for them if I don't have a chance to visit them each day. That's why I carry my notebook everywhere with me: to restaurants, the grocery store, to church, to the nail salon, and to the airport.

The first book featured Lilia, her grandpa, her mom and dad, her best friend, and eventually a girlfriend for her grandpa. Throughout the series, I've developed more than forty characters, all precious to me. Never have I understood imaginary friends better! Now, the books circle the globe as God's amazing plan unfolds.

In the next series, "The Hope Series," a new set of adult circumstances emerges. The stories go together, but they don't necessarily come out of me in consecutive order. For example, I've written most of the third book in the next series, but I haven't finished the first or second book. I know what is going to be included in them, but for some strange reason, the third book came flowing out nine months ago in a non-stop manner on a twenty-hour junket from another country. Explain that to me!

I'm trying not to let the melancholy get the better of me. Instead, I look to God to lead me with hope, trust, and faith. He will reveal a new and special path, and that's all that I need to know right now.

Being an author is a strange pastime because I live out the life of someone else in my head. It's amusing, a catharsis, interesting, and challenging at the same time. It's almost like being my own psychotherapist. The hand that guides the work, however, is divine, and the road we walk on is a mystery in a giant mosaic of humankind. Who would want it any other way?

International Book Tour

 

We are preparing for our international book tour. The London Book Expo is the second week in April.

For those of you who live in and around the Los Angeles area, we will be at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books at UCLA on April 24th, 10:00 A.M. to 6:00 P.M.,and April 25th, 10:00 to 5:00 P.M. in Booth 407.

For those of you who live in and around the New York area, we'll be at the BookExpo America at the Jacob Javits Center on May 27th from 1:00 P.M. to 6:00 P.M. I'll be in the AEG Publishing Group booth.

After that the books go to the Beijing World Book Expo in June, and then the Frankfurt World Book Expo in September to complete our tour.

The Ice Fish

Many years ago, I lived on Roberds Lake, four miles outside of Faribault, Minnesota. I invited my younger sister and brother, Bonnie and Bruce, to come for a visit. It was mid-November, and we hadn’t had much snow yet, but the lake had frozen, and the ice was about four inches thick. Shortly after they arrived, we pulled on our ice skates, and wobbled down to the shoreline.

We sat down on the rocks at the lake’s edge, removed our skate guards, and launched ourselves onto the slick glassy ice. It was as smooth as if a Zamboni machine had uniformly evened the entire surface. It was truly a wonder!

The overcast afternoon kept the sun from reflecting on the ice, and promised snow within a few hours. We skated around a bend along the shoreline, and spied an underwater spring, which bubbled up through the ice forming an ever-changing ice sculpture that grew as we stood there. We kept our distance so as not to crash though the ice in such frigid weather.

On the way back from around the bend, we noticed something, which we had not noticed before. It must have been the light of the afternoon as we skated east, but I’m not certain. There beneath our feet and under clear see-through ice, we viewed hundreds of fish swimming near the surface! We could see their tails wiggling and fins moving as they reacted to the ice skate blades scraping on the surface. We watched them with astonishment and felt mesmerized by them. They were so close to us that we could see their eyes darting around looking for what caused the sound to reverberate through the water. It was the eeriest sensation to scrutinize the fish right beneath our feet!

After hours of gazing at the uncanny sight, our feet became cold, and we retreated to the inside to thaw them next to a blazing fire. We chowed down on homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies and warmed our innards with hot chocolate, as we chattered animatedly about the afternoon. We couldn’t wait to get back out there the next day.

Overnight, the crispness in the air encouraged the grey skies to dump six inches of snow on the landscape. The next morning, we hurried down to the lake in our snow boots, and tried to remain upright, despite the slippery surface, as we shoveled an area for an ice rink. The first flakes of snow had attached themselves to the surface of the ice, which caused it to become bumpy and opaque. We could no longer peer through the ice at the fish anomaly like the day before.

The memory of that afternoon remains frozen in my brain, and I will never forget it. I hadn’t lived on the lake very long, so I expected that I would see the same uncanny sight each year when the ice froze, but it never happened again while I lived there. I still revel with amazement at the fish that afternoon, but realize now how rare and precious the moments of our lives are as they become distant memories.