There is a heart drawn around Monday’s date on my calendar. February 12, 2018. The day I typed “The End”.
The day started out much like any other typical Monday. The Missouri Ozarks outside my window lay blanketed in ice. From the grass to the treetops, everything glistened in the early morning sunlight. I burrowed under my fleece blanket and sipped on my coffee. Today was the day. I could feel it.
If there was one thing I could take away from the conference this year, it would be the abundant love of God I witnessed in the eyes, hearts, and actions of everyone I met. From the wonderful worship sessions to the individual classes to the conversations I had with friends – old and new. I was so blessed to see such passion for the Lord and watch His hand at work in so many lives….
As much as I love historical fiction, writing this genre doesn’t come without its bumps and bruises. This morning I was writing a scene tucked nicely between fiction and reality, blending my fictional friends with real-life individuals from the past. Just when one minor character was starting to really charm everyone, I discovered one tiny, yet significant detail about him.