3/28/2021 2 Comments When Grey came to stayI know I haven't been posting a lot lately. And a good chunk of that had to do with the fact that Covid seemed to take so much out of me. I'm sure it did/does you too. It was hard to find energy for extra things even though I had a lot of things I could have written about.
And another part of it is I wrote a book. Insane right?! That's what I think too. It's been a complete God thing. Completely. I feel like it's barely my book, but instead His. Which is pretty much the only reason why I'm continuing to go through with it despite how incredibly vulnerable it all feels. Because it's a children's book about grief. So I'll start at the beginning. Which let's be real was only a few months ago. I've always found writing very therapeutic. It's been an outlet of mine. I mean if you've been reading any of my previous posts you know that. But even as a kid I loved to write. But I wrote for me. It was mine. It was my heart. It wasn't meant to be shared. And so I've journaled, drafted, dabbled, scribbled, illegibly written thoughts down, created stories for my kids (I actually have pages and pages in a document of kids story ideas, or partial stories, etc). But it's not shared with anyone. I've always wanted to do something with my grief. My dad's death has profoundly shaped who I've become. It's with me every day. I've always wanted to write about it, which some of you have known. But it was a pipe dream. Utterly and completely. A dream I was embarassed to say out loud. But I firmly believe our culture absolutely sucks at dealing with grief. We don't know how to handle the awkward, uncomfortable, huge, unpredictable emotions. I have always prayed that somehow, in some way my grief could help someone else. Even if it started a conversation about how to help others in their grief. Because sitting in your grief can be one of the most lonely places you'll ever be. And then this year started as a total gong show in every way. Reuben threw out his back, got shingles, we went back to home learning, got a puppy (who is a good gong show), started a huge basement reno. And in the midst of the madness the story came. It started with someone telling me some pretty incredible words of encouragement when it came to my writing. That I should turn this blog into a book. Which initially sounded like utter nonsense. But it reignited my desire to write a children's book. I very hesitantly voiced my dream to a friend who immediately began to encourage and push me to go through with it. The story just came. It's like it had been waiting all these years inside my crazy head. The next week another friend sent me the information for a publisher. And in a move very out of my character, I sent my draft to the publisher. I fully prepared for an email out right laughing at my audacity at masquerading as a children's author. And attempting to write about grief of all things. But all of a sudden I was being offered a contract. On the 15th anniversary of Dad's death, which my publisher knew absolutely nothing about. And everything has fallen into place. I have an illustrator who also has nearly a lifetime of missing her dad. I've been getting positive feedback from people who've read the draft. And I have had absolutely incredibly support, sometimes in the most unexpected places. Even though most people didn't know this was happening until I had a signed contract, so many friends have celebrated the entire journey with me. They didn't get upset that they didn't know but recognized that this is one of them most vulnerable things I have ever done. They started immediately cheering me on. It honestly makes me want to cry. Wait, that's a lie. It's made me cry. Ugly tears cry. I'm putting my grief, my entire heart, out for anyone to see. To criticize. To pick apart. To form their own opinions of. I don't trust easily on a good day but this, man. I can't think of it too much or I lose my confidence. I am unbelievably terrified. And those blessed beautiful friends (Jenny and Sara especially deal with this "Oh my heavens I cannot do this, this is so stupid!!"), Reuben and my kids, my brother Tyler and Allison, my cousin Acie, continue to overwhelm me with support. I could write an entire post just about those who have supported me.I have received incredibly encouraging and unexpected messages from aunts, cousins, and friends who are all standing behind me. People have asked genuine questions about the book that let's me know they care. And continue to want to be part of it, offering their help however I will take it. It's mind blowing to me. In the moments were I feel especially like I have no idea how this book came to be, a wonderful friend reminds me that I'm carrying 15 years of grief around. I've lived with years of sharing the most important moments of my life with my Dad's headstone. I've spent 15 years feeling the empty space around the table, opening Christmas presents while missing one, the empty place in family pictures, at the birth of my kids. So I guess this book is 15 years in the making. This book shouldn't have happened. Every single moment in the process has been directed by God. I'm still a little in shock by this all. I feel like how the book came to be is a story in and of itself. Some of you have heard it and continue to hear the updates but if you ever want to know, ask me. I'd love to share how when I actually learned to just trust God's plan for my life and take steps in faith, this happened. I have no idea what is going to happen with this book. I don't know if I will sell enough to make my investment back. I have no idea how to market this and I'm very quickly realizing I'm a huge dinosaur when it comes to social media. I also have a pretty awesome love hate relationship with social media - help me. But if I can reach 1 kid. If I can encourage one group of people to start talking about grief, even if it's because of how they disagree with me, then this will all be worth it. If I can help 1 person know they are not alone... then all this is 100% worth it. And the most beautiful part is it's no longer my book. It's my Dad's book. It's his siblings book. It's my family's book. It's my friends book. It's every single one of you that continues to support me. It belongs to my illustrator. It belongs to those of you who have offered advance reviews. It belongs to each of you who have offered support marketing and promoting. It belongs to each of you who want the book to give to someone experiencing their own grief. It belongs to every child who reads it while sitting in their own unspeakable loss. It's not mine. That my friends is it in a nutshell. Look for When Grey Came to Stay, available this summer.
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