In 2000, I wrote in my prayer journal, asking God if I was supposed to write a book. I felt he wanted me to, but I wasn’t sure. There are several times in my Christian walk that I was uncertain if something was really from God or not. In those instances, I just waited until I felt certain of His direction.
Writing in my prayer journal for only God to see was one thing. I didn’t think I could write a book. I never dreamed of being a writer. Never wrote until I started writing for God in my prayer journal. For my joy. For His joy. And since English is my, I didn’t think God meant for me to write for others to read. There are better writers He could use instead of me.
So I asked for more clear confirmation, but I didn’t expect it. I went on with my life, working my job, raising my son, studying the Bible, and writing only for Him in my journal. I forgot about that prayer.
Late 2006, a story began forming in my head, and it wouldn’t go away. The characters and events consumed me, and I had to let them out. I began typing away in my spare time, and if I was away from my computer, I wrote long hand until the story ended 80,000 words later.