Book

I’m getting published!!!

Related imageHello there blog readers! It’s been awhile! I hope the Christmas season is treating you well! It’s that time of year to celebrate the birth of God’s Son, who came to earth in human flesh to one day die and pay the price of our sins. God loves you so much, and wants you in His family. If you haven’t made the decision, today is the day of salvation! Trust in Him and be saved from death and receive a new life with Him!!

So, aside from the greatest news of all, I’ve got some other pretty good news! Last year, my novel, The Thrall’s Sword, got accepted by a small publisher, Ambassador International. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go with them at first, but, long story short, I decided a few days ago that I would go with them to publish my book!

I am beyond excited, and in my excitement God has driven me to wrestle with a few things. What exactly are my motives for writing and publishing this book? Back in 2014, when I started writing this novel, I would say I was passionate about writing and could think of nothing else I’d rather do with my free time. Historical fiction fascinated me; including the historical fact that Vikings had such strange funeral rituals as to burn longships on fire with all their possessions, along with a slave girl to supposedly serve the dead master in the after life.

While at that time, I wasn’t a great conversationalist because of my shyness, within the world of my novel anything was possible. I could create complex characters, character dynamics, tension, plot twists, and climaxes. Stories and people came to life for me and made me feel more alive than I did in real life at times. Writing books justified my existence, whereas in real life, I seemed to only be “half-there” or “half-alive” because of my shyness.

Over the years, I’ve become “more alive” in real life–all thanks to Jesus Christ! As I have grown closer to Him, I have begun to awaken to things that really matter. I have become a better conversationalist. I have grown in my love for people. I have begun to value time spent with people more than my writing. A new dream has sparked within me, to teach English overseas to build relationships with people, and to share the good news of Jesus Christ in a world of darkness.

My desires have evolved into more practical and more necessary areas of teaching a common language and saving lost souls. And, frankly, fiction writing seems like the exact opposite of that.

Nevertheless, as I have grown and changed, so has my novel. What started out as simply historical fiction with no mention of God, evolved into a transformational, redemptive story of God’s forgiveness. If you have ever read any of Francine Rivers books and liked those, then I think you will enjoy my novel. Her books inspired me to write a powerful tale of a hardened heart softened and restored. My main character, Sigrid, is severely stubborn and will assuredly annoy you at least once, only to wonder at her transformation at the end. While my book is fiction, it is utterly real, because of the many timeless truths such as hardened hearts in need of a Savior, and a God who grants forgiveness to all who ask for it. Thus, I trust that God will speak to each person in the way He desires through my novel.

Today, I am more in love with Jesus than ever. I am passionate about discipleship, and I long to give over my life to serving God wherever He leads. Most of all, my desire has become truly and simply to know Him more and more. He is good. He is kind. He is worthy!

As I look back at the years I have spent poring my time and energy into this novel, I wonder at the fact that I had so much motivation, so much thoughtfulness, so much care put into this work of fiction. The truth is, it astounds me that I was propelled so strongly to complete this piece and make it what it is today. It astounds me the amount of patience I have had these five long years.

The only thing I can do is give credit to God. He gave me the gift of writing, He gave me motivation, He gave me patience, and He gave me love for Him and faith in Him (as He does for all who ask Him!). The truth is, every ounce of credit goes to Him. Apparently He wanted me to write a book and get it published. Apparently He wanted people to read this redemptive story. Apparently He is doing something through my life that I could never imagined back in 2014.

It’s only because of Him that I exist, because of Him I wrote a book, and because of Him I am who I am today. I want to give Him the supreme glory, because without Him, none of this would even matter. With Him, we have life–fullness of life! A life with meaning and purpose.

Please pursue Him, because He has an adventure for everyone of His beloved children. Please love Him, because He loves you abundantly more than you could imagine. Please surrender everything you are to Him, because none of it was ever yours anyway.

Thank You, Jesus, for all You have done and all You will do! Amen.

Do you struggle with giving the credit to God? Do you struggle with having impure motives, and needing God to purify your motives? Comment below your thoughts. 

Thank you so much, and have a wonderful Christmas!

excerpts

An Excerpt: This Huge Space Inside Me

(Glossary note: Iosa is the Irish word for Jesus)

“What am I looking for?” I whispered.

Tyra pulled her blanket up to her chin and stared up at the thatched roof above us.

“Sometimes I feel like there’s this huge space inside me, wider and emptier than a starless night. Nothin’ I do can fill it up. Nothin’ but God, nothing but the grace He has given us through Iosa. That may not be what you’re looking for, but it’s what we all need, Sigrid. If it weren’t for God bursting inside of me, I wouldn’t be able to stand Ragnar. I’d run. He’d catch me and whip me. I’d run again. But with God, I’ve learned to have compassion on Ragnar. I’ve learned to fill up this void with Iosa’s love and His… strength.”

Tyra gave a gentle, rippling laugh. “God is good, Siri. He is so, so good. He gives me strength. He gave me the strength to tell Ragnar about Him. Ragnar hasn’t changed, but I have. And I pray someday he will change—and ye will, too.”

I said nothing.

“Good night, Siri. I love ye. Iosa loves ye.”

I closed my eyes, moving my tongue around my mouth. But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t tell her she was wrong about her god, about everything. She had felt something, but it was only a feeling; she had thought something, but it was only a thought. Her perspective on life was radically different than mine. Iosa didn’t love me. Iosa didn’t even know me! Tyra’s experience with Ragnar was awful, so she had to deal with it the only way she knew how.

Yet… my heart was touched by her love and her strength. It couldn’t have come from her god, but it was beautiful. It was a pity her beautiful soul was wasted pouring into the life of that wretched man. Would she ever realize her efforts to love him could never thaw his icy heart?

Writing Samples

What Life is All About

This summer I will be attending a discipleship program for 10 weeks. Prayers are very much appreciated! ❤ It’s amazing how living life and growing in my faith and meeting people and getting to know them can affect and improve my writing, helping me write honestly and from my heart, since my heart is expanding into more meaningful territory. Though I may not have much time for working on my novel, I know this experience will be life-changing. And I know I will have time to slow down and ponder what life is really all about. 

As much as life seems like it’s all about the going and moving and chasing and running round and round here and there getting success and getting a family and getting a house and getting getting getting — as much as it seems like that… I think it’s more about the slowing down. The stopping. The stillness of a summer evening when the sun is slightly down and the stars are slightly out and you finally get the freedom to ponder. To rest. What really matters gently settles in your heart and peace befriends you in the coolness of the day that is coming to an end. The busyness kept it away for so long. You wish you could always be like this. Accepted. Your life of running didn’t fill you up. It left you empty.

What’s the point? Just being here is all that matters. So much for the trying. The trying and trying. You could never be enough to fill you up. As soon as you get big you deflate like a balloon who really tried its best, but the one needle-sized hole threw you off again. You need something inside you to stay the same. Unchanging, consistent – if you could just be that, you could at least understand yourself again. Whoever you are.

Because life isn’t about the rushing and rushing to inflate yourself only to soon get deflated again. It’s not about turning yourself into someone you like only to hate yourself the next day. It’s not about that.

It’s about the slowing down. The stopping. The understanding and taking it in. The breathing in the cool evening air and looking up at the beginnings of the little stars that decorate the galaxy in meekness and power. What wonders they are. Echoing the beauty of a King who sits on His throne in splendor, ruling in meekness and power.

Unchanging, consistent — He’s what’s inside you, filling you up. That’s what life is all about. Filling you up with the staggering wonder of your Ruler and Savior, until you have no room to worship your every whim and desire. Until the reality of the highest Power towers over you, and at the same time draws near you and woos you gently, swaying to a new song, speaking tenderly to you as the sun melts into the west and the stars glitter the night in deeper grandeur and purer joy.

excerpts

An Excerpt: Mum’s Weaving

white black and red textile
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

I watched her hands move skillfully, weaving the yarn through the taught threads. The monotony and delicate work reminded me of my mother. Dear Mum seemed to have Frigg, the goddess of motherhood, always at her side. When I was very young and I watched her weave, she’d simultaneously weave tales of how Frigg bestowed the gift of special yarn to mortal women whom she favored.

Frigg must have favored Mum. Her yarn looked no different from the rest, but whenever I held a blanket she’d woven I’d feel—oh, I’d feel things I couldn’t describe. Beautiful things that filled up and overflowed the wide, gaping emptiness inside me, just for a moment. Just for a moment I would feel alive.