To write a book…
A fifteen-year journey of an author’s first book.
It was the year 2000. I was finally finished with high school. The thought of college was daunting and seemed premature. Throughout the year before I graduated, I had prayed numerous times that God would help me to accomplish the grand goal of finishing high school. For someone who was not a scholar, it was a significant achievement. And God did hear my prayers.
Ten years before my high school graduation, when I was 10, my grandmother bought each of my 3 brothers and I a diary, or as I preferred to call it, a journal. Captain Nemo used the word Log, and other men in books and movies used the word Journal. The two words seemed more fitting for a ten-year-old boy than the word diary, which typically denoted that the owner was a girl.
My young mind rationalized that this was the time of life to begin cultivating a talent that would develop into a hobby and maybe a way to make money later on in life. I considered painting, but when a ten-year-old tries to paint, it can be challenging to look at a hastily painted creation that is certainly not a Rembrandt and continue to believe that he will make money at it one day. I enjoy painting and drawing, but at this point the idea of making a living at it contributes extra fare to chuckle city.
So, my 10-year-old self decided that I would make writing my hobby. In the ten years from that point up until my high school graduation, I would now and then try to write stories. So I used my new journal from my grandmother to write my 1st big, not so epic narrative. And I discovered that I did not know how to write. I did not know how to craft a story, and I sometimes wonder if I still have that problem. So, the 1st story I wrote was like soup that someone had forgotten to season.
As a youngster, when I made soup, it did not have much flavor. I understood the concept of seasoning, but I did not know how to do it. I like the soup I make now. I know how to season soup and it is usually pretty good, according to my wife, that is. My first story was like a joke with no punchline.
The first few stories were usually about halfway finished and were typically about animals and the various adventures they had. At some point I graduated from writing in my journal to using my family’s 486 computer. It ran Windows 3.1 and my parents had purchased WordPerfect 5.1 for it. It had a blue screen backdrop rather than the white ones that is integral to word processors today.
In my freshman year of high school my family moved from Alaska to South Texas. It was a culture shock in some ways, but it was a definite climate shock. And the first job I got was working in a bakery on the Academy campus. Needless to say I was always sweating, and on break I used to sneak into the walk in refrigerator to take some much prized short catnaps. I did end up startling one of my supervisors at one point.
The radio was always on in the cafeteria, which was also a bakery. Once a day an audio adventure came on the air and one day it was about a girl who was writing a story about people stuck on a desert Island. And I thought, “Why don’t I try that?” The idea circulated in my head until my Jr. year in High School and I began writing my own epic about people stranded on a desert Island. I made it about 4 chapters in length over the course of several weeks. It was amalgamations of plot elements from a variety of different books I had read which I coalesced. Part of it included plot material that was completely original.
There was an on-going joke in the house between my brothers about how the island in the book was overrun with Chihuahuas and it made for good laughs all around. In my last year of high school, I noticed that I could not find the word processor, WordPerfect on any computer I used, and instead of WordPerfect there was this interloper called Microsoft Word, which I believed was grossly inferior.
I did manage to graduate from high school, and I escaped having to take an algebra class, much to my relief. But college was a whole new game.
The small college that I went to was in New York and it was called CPE. There were a number of teachers there who had written a number of books and were good authors in their own right. My college English teacher Nicole Crozier (soon to be Parker) came up with stories on the fly to embellish whatever point she was trying to get across to her students. She gave a couple of lectures on the well of imaginary stories and her point was that they were excellent ways of bringing up or establishing a certain point. Being somewhat squeamish at that time, I was horrified one day when when the future Mrs. Parker announced that we would be reading a selection entitled, “the embalming of Mr. Jones.”
I sat there in her class rather placidly, and in my mind I was exclaiming, “how can she possibly want to read about embalming people around lunchtime!?” Now when I remember it, I am able to chuckle at my 20 year old self. It was during my time in my English teacher’s class and our own discussions that I realized that any writing I did needed to have a point. That in the grand scheme of things, writing that led people to make a serious life decision would do more good than all the comedy or drama I could write, and as a result, my writing did not lose all of it’s comedic potential, but I became more interested and focused in writing with the grand scheme of things in mind.
I thought my writing was somewhat passable before my 1st year in college, but after being around teachers who had written so much and whose knowledge was so vast and broad compared to my own, I felt quiet intimidated. The bar seemed to be set so far over what I ever though was doable by myself that settling for literary mediocrity seemed an inescapable fate.
Of course none of my teachers suspected that I felt this way, and one seasoned History teacher, Lawrence Maxwell, who was an accomplished writer, and whose father had written many bedtime story books and Blue Bible storybooks was very liberal in giving me advice and encouragement. We had a lot in common and I often consulted his sage advice, which he readily gave. I learned a lot in his lectures and in our private conversations.
One teacher who had published half a dozen books mentioned that in writing, he could reach more people than in any other way, and that thought inspired me. I had wanted to be a real writer for years and my desire to emulate the writers and teachers at my college increased a lot. People like my English teacher Nicole Parker, my History teacher Lawrence Maxwell.
Unlike my teachers, like Harry Janetsko who was the academic dean, I had no breadth of knowledge to pass on in writing. I could not write about theology because I knew nothing about it. I could not write about history when 90% of what Mr. Maxwell taught in his lectures was news to me. I felt that I could only follow in the footsteps of John Bunyan in writing something that was exceptionally edifying and creative in scope. I felt that an allegory was my best bet. I believed at the time that I would not have to rely on having mastered a specific branch of learning in order to write a good allegory. I found out later that having a rudimentary knowledge in some fields did help a lot. I did not want to borrow from anyone else, although I felt that a nod to writers like John Bunyan was fitting. I wanted to be as original and creative as I could be.
I did not at first realize what a tall order this was, but I prayed about it, and God answered my prayers over the next few years and beyond. I did write a little about theology, but I felt that it was not my forte. And so, my search for an original literary concept began. I was well aware of what the Bible says about no new thing under the sun.
One of the things I did at CPE (The Center for Personal Evangelism) was canvassing, which was essentially going from door to door selling religious books, cook books, children’s books and the like. The intent of the books was to pave a way to bring the 3 Angels messages to the person, or what we often called, the prospect’s, home. The cookbooks, children’s books and health books were designed with this ultimate goal in mind.
Selling books was not something I was really good at and not something I relished. When one of the schools leaders and literally one of the most successful canvassers in America, Tim Baily went canvassing with me door to door, I was astounded. I truly felt that I was in the presence of canvassing greatness. When I sold books, I dreamed of the day when I would be a part of a ministry doing something I was actually good at. At that point, I was better at selling that writing. In retrospect, I cannot call my 20-year-old self a good writer, but I can’t say I was a bad writer, or that I did not put in a lot of effort into it.
For ten years, my seasoned History teacher Mr. Maxwell would always help me, and we often exchanged e-mails and telephone calls. Whenever I e-mailed him something that I had written, he would always encourage me. He would tell me how I could write it differently, and write more effectively. When I wrote something that was not correct as far as the historical context went, he would point out my mistakes and makes suggestions which I was more than happy to incorporate in what I wrote. When I turned 30 and had just arrived at Ouachita Hills, he passed away, and ever since then, I have greatly missed his friendship, his advice, and less significantly, the fact that he was happy to edit and critique the things I wrote.
When I was 23, I had my first real literary success which could not have happened without help and encouragement from Nicole Parker. It was an article I wrote for Insight magazine. When I was 18, I had a horrific nightmare about being lost. In the dream or nightmare, I was living in the future when probation had passed, and when God had decided who was lost and who was saved, and those who missed the mark (or had gotten it) had not yet perished. The nightmare did not have a happy ending except for that fact that I woke up and realized that it was a dream. In the article I related the dream and the conclusions I drew from it.
During the same summer I was a canvasser again, but this summer I was canvassing in Oregon.
One day, while I was canvassing, an idea struck me forcibly that my mind was like a fortress, or a Castle. There were ports of entry into my mind just like gates on a Castle. The thought was so strong and forcible that I started making notes. With the same energy of someone chasing pieces of scrap of paper that the wind is blowing away, I wrote down the thoughts I had and they steadily accumulated. I had not ceased being on the lookout for a literary idea that could become an allegory. And I realized that this could be it.
In what I believed to be providential, the people I stayed with while canvassing connected me with people in South Korea who were looking for an English teacher. If they wanted someone who knew a lot about grammar, I would have been disqualified, but it was more conversational English. A lot of problems arose to prevent my going and a lot of prayers were said. But in the end, thanks to the generosity and understanding of Eugene Prewitt to whom I owed a massive debt and had not actually met, and against a lot of odds, I was able to fulfill a life long dream of living in another country. So, I went overseas to teach English in South Korea. Fortunately I did not have to teach much grammar since it was another subject that I was not very good at. Very much on the side of my busy schedule, I continued writing about the Castle story and within a year, I had a short screenplay on it.
About that time, I met someone who became my best friend. I would sometimes send too much money to people that I owed debts to in the states, and I would end up eating much more rice than I liked. I don’t know how my friend knew of my limited means, but she would frequently take me out to eat, and before long I did not use her name, but I called her Noona, which in Korean, means older sister. There are times when people question whether they really love someone, and there are times when there is no question about it. You can say definitively that you love someone. That is the way I felt about my Noona. I truly loved her, and I still feel the same way.
To make a long story short, Noona actually suffered from mental illness. I did not recognize any of the symptoms then that are now obvious to me. There are of course many people who suffer from mental illness, and if you do not know much about mental illnesses, then these people might be the ones you would least suspect. Even when she told me she was afraid of death, I was in denial about how serious the situation was. I had never encountered someone who was so mentally depressed and I had not a clue about what to do other than be the best friend I could be. Well, on Feb 14, 2006, I learned that she had committed suicide. I was having a lot of personal problems besides this at that time and I really did not recover from it for some years. But God provided good friends who did not replace Noona, but who helped heal the hurt and dysfunction I felt for the next several years. People I owe a massive amount of gratitude to like Jonathan, Heather, Miguel, Jared, Sarah, Aileen, Katie and Genie who were self sacrificing friends at Union College and significantly my family. Later, God brought other people in my life whose friendship healed me even further. People like my future wife Kathy Curtis and a best friend, Handel Smith.
Not long after Noona’s death, I realized with searing clarity how real the battle between good and evil was. The enemy had stolen my dear friend and I now viewed him as a wicked tyrant in degrees could not have before Noona's death. When I thought of my beloved Noona, I seethed with rage and pain, and I longed for a way to invade the enemy's kingdom and steal his victims from him. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. I wanted to hurt him as he had hurt me. At this point in my life (2006) I had become irrational on multiple levels. Yes, we must by the grace of God win souls for the Kingdom and yet, it should be love for God and the unspeakable value of souls that motivates us, not revenge against an enemy we cannot hurt without God's help. Later, my motivation would shift from revenge on the devil to the salvation of souls, but God would have to take a hand for that to be in an way successful. But at that time, to me, the importance of finishing the Castle story, of making it a book, and winning as many to the side of Christ as possible with it, became an obsession. In retrospect, my actions and sentiments, irrational and feeble efforts as they were now seem somewhat pathetic. But at the time I reasoned, “Didn’t Jesus win people with parables?” In part, yes. And my lack of life experience from which to write something other than an allegory, strengthened my resolve to be successful in writing my allegory and completing this Castle story.
In late 2006, I left Korea and went to my 2nd college (not counting a semester of community college), which was in Lincoln NE. I was plagued by some health problems. Also, there was the recent trauma of Noona’s death 6 months prior to this. I had no appetite to study or go to school, thus my grades were not that great. If I had taken the time I spent on the Castle story, which I that point I called, “The Silent War”, and spent it on classes, I probably would have gotten better grades. By this point I was obsessed with writing and finishing the book. I had dreams of it being published by either Pacific Press or Review and Herald.
My behavior at this time was somewhat irrational and so were a lot of my hopes. The cash advances that usually went along with a book being published added to the substantial motivation I already had. For a college student who is not impoverished, but who can’t find or keep a job, the financial benefits of being a successful writer were hard to temper with the hard facts of reality.
To say that the influence of other books and movies did not creep into what I wrote would not be true either. In a lot of books and movies, something the authors or producers seemed to take a fiendish delight in was killing off one or more of the main characters, and so rather than kill one of my main characters in the Castles story, I rewrote part of it to where he was severely injured and rendered useless for most of the plot. Around this time, I took a lot of literary classes and decided to incorporate elements of Shakespearian writing into my work. In retrospect it was a mistake for the type of book I was writing.
To make a long story short, I did finally finish what I was calling “Entity Castle” in the summer of 2008. But, sad to say, much of it had a worldly tint. When I finished it, I was at home and my parents had a surprise party to celebrate its completion. I would spend the next several years editing it…trying to make it perfect. But, it was not the sort of allegory I had initially envisioned, or any kind of book that God could sanction, and while I spent perhaps thousands of hours on it, I met with many repeated rejections from various publishing houses.
I went back to Oregon over the summer of 2008 to be a canvassing leader which I was not good at. Then I returned to Lincoln NE in the fall. This was one of those times I did not have things together. Life began to fall apart in various ways. I finally got a job, but it was at McDonalds. My academic record began to catch up with me and I was denied entry to the college I had been attending due to my academic failures. Finally, all I was doing was working and sometimes eating at McDonalds and playing video games most of the time. I had a mountain of student debt and private debt also. Finally I returned to Oregon in December. For most of the time in the fall of 2008, I did not write, or care to write. The Castle story collected dust, and I despaired of ever being a writer at all. I had not resisted letting the last several years of college draw me from my commitment to God and writing. Something was broken, and life lacked a rhyme or reason.
Back in Oregon as 2008 became 2009, I began to consider again, my spiritual life. I recognized that I had made concessions to worldliness. I began making an effort to change what I watched and listened to. I went to community college for a semester and took literature classes and a Spanish class. In my own opinion at the time, I had been tainted and was in many respects a worldly person. I did not feel like the same energetic person who had gone to Korea a few years before.
But God had not given up on me. I spent quite a lot of time at my Uncles house, and his family spoke Spanish a lot. Adventist Spanish broadcasting was frequently on television and one show that was often on the air was a show of a group of young people. On the show, they were always studying the Sabbath school lesson in Spanish.
I was taking Spanish classes at this point and my Korean and Spanish were all mixed up. When I watched that program, I would wonder to myself, “do those people speak English?” Little did I know that those people on that Spanish show would become friends of mine. It was not long until I learned that the show was produced by Ouachita Hills College, a small SDA college in Arkansas. I had attended a high school in Arkansas in the mid to late 90’s and a few of my friends had told me about Ouachita Hills.
Although the 1st college I went to in New York was very conservative, my experience there had been a good one. Apart from that, I had had a lot of unpleasant experiences with groups that were very conservative, and in contrast, I viewed the conservative’s proverbial antonym with a lot of favor. At this point I viewed religious liberals very favorably.
I began; quiet reluctantly, to feel the strong impression that God wanted me to go to Ouachita Hills. It was like a Doctor telling a patient, “you have this problem,” and the patient exclaims, “That can’t be right…it mustn’t be right!” "It is a small Adventist College in the sticks,” I would remind myself. Both my book and myself were in need of a dramatic change. But before the book could be changed, God would need to change me.
At that point, I told myself that I had a good reason for not going to Ouachita Hills. I had no money. And with no prospects of having a job, I told God that if He provided the money, I would go to Ouachita Hills. I saw this as good insurance that I could avoid going there. I had unconsciously put Ouachita Hills in the same category as other very conservative groups I had encountered. Later I would find that my conclusions were quite inaccurate. Shortly after I had promised God that I would go to Ouachita Hills if He would provide the funds, someone asked me to housesit for them and told me that they would be happy to pay me. I had given my word and I was stuck. I was angry with myself for having promised God I would go to Ouachita Hills, but I had given my word.
When I had gone to Korea in 2003, one of the people who was instrumental in my going there was Eugene Prewitt who at that point was a staff member at Ouachita Hills. Although we frequently spoke on the phone, I did not actually meet Eugene until the fall of 2009 at Ouachita Hills. CPE, the small but beloved college I went to in New York in the fall of 2000, had since folded and in an ironic twist of fate, had been, in some respects absorbed by Ouachita Hills and in some way Eugene was instrumental in that also. Some of the furniture at Ouachita Hills had been at CPE and there was an almost eerie familiarity that I initially resented. Paving the way to Korea in 2003, Eugene had forgiven a debt of multiple thousands in what I had owed to CPE. Once I started working in Korea in 2003 and sending regular payments, Eugene cancelled more 50% of the debt I owed him. Eugene was the only person I thought I knew at Ouachita Hills and in truth that was only partially accurate. It turned out that there were a few people at Ouachita Hills I knew. I did not know that some of my relatives were attending Ouachita Hills either. Also, my English teacher from CPE in New York, Nicole Crozier Parker, was an alumnus of Ouachita Hills and in class she had made some cryptic but positive comments about Ouachita Hills.
If God wanted me to go to Ouachita Hills, it could not be a bad place if a person like Eugene Prewitt worked there and if my friend and English teacher Nicole had been a student there. My former history teacher, Lawrence Maxwell, had mentioned Eugene in a positive way a number times in our conversations without my having brought up his name. That and Eugene forgiving my debts made up for the fact that I had not met him up to the point.
With some misgivings, I now had money to fly to Arkansas and even though we had never met in person, the fact that Eugene Prewitt was there made it easier. And I also hoped that I might see Nicole Parker there at some point.
With some misgivings, I now had money to fly to Arkansas and even though we had never met in person, the fact that Eugene Prewitt was there made it easier. And I also hoped that I might see Nicole Parker there at some point.
My roommates at OH (Ouachtia Hills) were the best I could ever have asked for. I brought my laptop along with me with several of my cherished games. I was typically quiet and avoided people some of the time. But in my mind, there were a number of exclamations on a variety of issues. “Oh goodness! They make their own fake cheese! I can’t bear to eat anymore granola! Oh that is right! I will have to canvass again! Help! This place really is in the middle of nowhere! Please please! No math classes! Oh no, I am ten years older than most of the students! Ugh! I hope they don’t find out. Ack! I am older than some of the staff members! How depressing.” Now I look back, and while it is not comedy, it is a little amusing. Anytime anyone was going to Arkadelphia not far away, I made every attempt to go along, and I am afraid that I was a trial to some long suffering staff members.
Not long into the 1st year, I discovered much to my dismay that John Bunyan had written a book called, “The Holy War for Mansoul.” And its plot was disturbingly similar to mine. Much chagrined, I remembered what the Bible said about no new thing under the sun, and for several years after that, the Castle story collected dusk. I really began to despair of ever being a writer. But good things were happening too.
As the year progressed, I began to wonder, I am I changing? I began to take a lot of comfort in the songs the students sung, and the relationships I made warmed me. Some people said, “Brent, you are changing.” And I thought, “well that was a nice thing to say. Is it true?” I had expected to be lectured by the students and staff once they discovered how much I loved cheese on veggie pizzas. I don't know if it ever became common knowledge, but my roommates knew and I never heard a word about it from anyone. This surprised me. My roommates went to great lengths to make me feel welcomed and this touched me. Some of the things I brought with me such as cherished games eventually made their way to the trash, and I did not miss them as I had supposed I would. Replacing one pastime with another helped a lot.
My feelings on canvassing did not change much although the mission of it was still important to me. On one canvassing trip, one girl exclaimed, “Oh I love canvassing!” “Well that is one nut you should avoid,” I thought to myself. “Be polite, but avoid her.”
Well, as providence would have it, I ended up marrying her, and while it has not always been smooth sailing, she has been a soul mate and someone I love in a deep yet quiet sort of way. She has had a consecrative and sanctifying influence in our home, and I can’t imagine life without her.
Academics were always trial to me, but the staff and teachers went out of their way to help me. I sometimes think that I was a trial to some of them, but they helped me to realize an oft despaired of dream of mine to graduate from college. It was the happiest day of my life until two days later.
And two days after I graduated, Kathy and I got married. So, I remember very little from that time of planning a wedding and trying to finish college classes which included a dreaded math class whose bark was worse than it’s bite. Later in that year of 2011, Kathy and I departed for South Korea. I had longed to go back to South Korea and at the same time I was tense remembering my experience with Noona. But not long after I went back, I made another best friend.
One night around the end of November of the year I returned to Korea, I went to the church, which was part of the elementary school I was employed at. They were having an open house. There were many people there. I was standing in the hall and watching people come down the stairs when unexpectedly a foreigner stepped down the stairs, and when I saw him, I knew that he was special in a positive sense. I did not know why, but I felt an instant connection and he became one of the best friends and confidants I have ever known.
Later, Handel Smith would end up working in the same school, and spiritually speaking, we seemed to sharpen each other, and we often had very long and interesting conversations about the Bible. Handel and his wife Minjoo, who was also a good friend and an amazing chef were the sort of people I felt that anyone would be happy to be around. He was a frequent and generous guest in our home, and the constant subjects like the sanctuary, newstart, and prophecy as well as character development were subjects that were dwelt on a lot. I was not perfect, yet at Ouachita Hills and later with Handel and Minjoo being around so much, my faith grew and I felt I was living a life God could approve of. Among many other aspects, something very unique and special came of this period.
The Castle story was on my computer, but it had not been touched in a long time. A seed of interest began to well up, and I reluctantly began dusting it off in the metaphorical sense.
I began reading, and I realized that I no longer harmonized with much of what was in the book. But I harmonized with the initial mission of the book. When I had written the article for Insight magazine in 2003 which was my only literary success, I had prayed and asked the Lord to give me the title. And not long after I prayed this prayer, a phrase kept cropping up in the back of my mind. At first I thought this phrase was, well, rather corny. “God’s shock therapy!” But even though I ignored the thought, the phrase kept cropping up even though it was not related to anything I was talking about or reading. After a while I realized that it was a good title and it became the title of that magazine article.
Well, I decided that I should do the same thing for the castle story. I prayed and asked God to give me the title He wanted for the Castle story. And once again a word that was unrelated to anything I was thinking, talking, hearing or reading about kept cropping up. And again, my first impression was that the word was weird, but the more I thought of it, the more it seemed to encompass and describe what the book was about. And, the word in the back of my mind, and the answer to my prayer was SoulCastles.
But SoulCastles had so many problems. So many contradictions to what a good book should be, especially the kind of book I envisioned. To make a long story short, SoulCastles was almost 300 pages, and I painstakingly cut out over 100 pages. When I was finished, I could not find one bit of material that I could call worldly. But, I had a big problem. The plot was like swiss cheese. Nothing made sense anymore. There were too many unconnected points. There were huge holes in the plot.
Years before, when I began to write worldly elements into the book, and I was not living the way I should, it was like someone flipped a switch, and I had almost no ability to write well or be creative. It was a prolonged period of writers block. But at Ouachita Hills and after I returned to Korea and had spent so much time around Handel and Minjoo, I began to live the way I believed God wanted me to live, and it was like someone flipped a switch again, and I was able to write well once more.
Then something special and unique happened that I never anticipated. SoulCastles had many flaws in that there were huge holes in the plot. So much did not make sense.
In one week, I had two dreams that were specifically about SoulCastles. In the dreams I observed creative plot material that fitted SoulCastles like a jigsaw puzzle. Over the course of several months I rewrote SoulCastles using the plot developments I had seen in my dreams. This was around 2013-2014. When I had added everything I had seen in my dreams, the plot was better than anything I could ever have made up.
So, I cannot say that SoulCastles 100% original. I must be truthful and say that God must take the credit for it. There have been times that I wondered if SoulCastles is going to go anywhere, and I remember my initial reasons for wanting to write it. And, at that time, Handel was very encouraging regarding this book which helped. I also remember that God gave me two dreams for it. I am trying to sell it on Amazon, but like math, and like grammar, marketing is something I know nothing about.
When I was younger in my early 20’s and before that, I had a good singing voice. I have not shared this before, but it made me proud in a way that was not constructive. I took efforts to control my pride, but my singing ability made me vain in ways that now make me embarrassed, and blowing my own horn is something I try to avoid. I did finish college by the grace of God, because of teachers who went beyond the call of duty to help me and because of my own effort, but I have no reason to be proud or vain. I have written a book but I have no reason to be proud. I have traveled the world and lived overseas, but I have no reason to be proud. I honestly hate what pride does and I have viewed it as an enemy for sometime.
This is not to say that I don’t take pride in good work or accomplishments. But blowing my own horn is hard for me. I don’t know how to advertise SoulCastles or market it. All of my guesses have not accounted for much. And there is the other nail-biting consideration that has dogged me. What if SoulCastles is boring? What if people are too kind to say so or too busy? Is this paranoia? Sometime back I realized that worry of this sort is a waste of time, but human nature can’t help wondering about something like that.
In an attempt to nullify the possible truth that SoulCastles was boring, I was able, with the help of many good friends who shared their time and efforts, to produce an audio dramatization on SoulCastle complete with background noises, orchestrated music and a multi-voiced cast of friends. I am not worried about the audio version being boring, but I do worry about the book version.
Every once in a while, God will show me how I can change something to enhance someone’s perception of it being interesting. Recently I realized how I could make it less expensive to sell on Amazon. In the plot, the character I had rendered useless because of an injury was used to deepen the plot in a way that did not kill him or injure anyone else.
SoulCastles is in a sense, my first-born, and as God has brought me closer to conversion, SoulCastles has also changed for the better. It has been 20 years since high school and while I can’t think of any subject I could even claim to be slightly informed in except, perhaps maybe my Religion degree, I do have much more life experience and this has brought about two books that are in the works, as well as another one, a testimony about my Uncle who escaped from Cuba. I can call myself a writer now. Can I call myself successful? I am going to let that be God’s call, and by His grace, I will do the best I can as a writer regardless of what happens. The people I have mentioned by name in this rather long article are people who I feel that have contributed to any success I might have, and people who I admire, respect and like. This would also include my parents and my Aunt and Uncle though I did not mention them by name.
It says in Proverbs 16:3, that when we commit our ways to the Lord in whatever we do, that He will establish our path. Matthew 6:33 says, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.” I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I had taken this to heart, years ago. And, I do not want to take it to heart so that I will experience success as a writer, but I want to seek God’s kingdom and His righteousness because I want to seek His Kingdom and righteousness. I hope that this testimony has been a blessing to you and that we will seek God ‘s Kingdom and His righteousness and watch the results that He brings into our lives in regards to the talents and successes He has given us. On one hand, I hesitate to ask people to read SoulCastles. I don't want to blow my own horn. I fear their impression of it being a dull book, and on the other, I think of the gospel message that I, by the grace of God, incorporated into it and the ways it could be a blessing to people who will read anything that is interesting. I will not be offended by anyone who had a word of advice for me in what they consider as something that makes a book fun to read. At present, I am praying for God's will, trying to think of what I can do to improve SoulCastle's and its success and waiting to see what happens. But whatever happens, whether SoulCastles is a success or not, I will be content, cheerful and by the grace of God, zealous for His Kingdom and the gospel.
