The Idea of an Essay, Volume 3

72 The Idea of an Essay: Volume 3 choosing a title. Once the title was chosen, the cover was easy to coordinate. The problem was I could not think of a title! I ended up using Mom’s suggestion of Black Dawn. The title, an oxymoron, is exactly the kind of title that would make me curious enough to pick up a book and possibly buy it. This done, I was able to order my free copies. Forcing myself to sit down and write everyday was difficult, but I knew it was worth it when I received the books in the mail—my books! It was exhilarating and at the same time strange to see my writing in print. Having to be disciplined in this project was a good step for me towards the writing future I hope to have. This was not the first book I had completed, but it is the only that has been written in so short a time. The first somewhat-lengthy story I wrote was titled A New Friend. The second story, Leesa, was about a thirteen-year old girl who fled her home with her family to escape the invading armies. This was to become the first in a trilogy, which I called the Acacian Trilogy. The second one, Fiona, is the most polished story I have so far. Sadly, the third and final installment is yet to be written. But I’ve also written several other short stories and the beginnings of a series set in “Animal Land”. Though it might appear that I have written a somewhat substantial amount of material, overall, I am not completely thrilled with it. It is still raw, unpolished material. Much work is still to be done. Despite knowing that writing captivating fiction is difficult, I still dream of writing it. Part of me shrinks from hard work. At the same time, the challenge fine tunes my determination to write great fiction. Yet, is that how I want to spend my life? Struggling to create plausible characters, heart-racing plots, and engaging literature? Puzzling over how to integrate a gospel-defined message in and throughout each book? Holed up in my home, bent over thousands of pieces of loose-leaf notebook paper, pencils, and a thesaurus? Rubbing my fingers raw from writing, writing and rewriting? Editing and changing and rethinking over and over and over? Trying to meet deadlines and work with real-world publishers? I love writing though. Am I not willing to go through some hardship in order to do something I enjoy? Or is it simply the idea of writing that I love? Couldn’t my life—shouldn’t my life—be better spent? What if I’m not actually supposed to be some semi-famous author? What if “all” I do is be a stay-at-home mom and raise kids? It may not be