Yesterday, I had a strange, writer's moment. I got an e-mail to tell me that the book was ready and that contributors would get a discount.
Book? I contributed to a book?
The title seemed somewhat familiar, so I did a search of my e-mails. Sure enough, I came across a series of e-mails where a reader wanted to use my blog post (about coracles and traveling with trust of God in lieu of oars) on her blog. I said sure.
At a later point, I got this e-mail:
"You are receiving this Email because either you were a guest blogger or were
interviewed by us and we used your comments and/or ideas for our summer project
Boats Without Oars. Once again, thank you for your participation in our
research and adventure. I have been discerning, upon request by many, what, if
any, work to do to honor our travels, findings and new relationships within and
without the Episcopal Church. One idea is to have the work included in some
sort of publication. To that end, I am writing to ensure that if such
opportunity is forth-coming, you would be comfortable with your contribution to
Boats Without Oars being included. So, would you please take a brief moment to
reply "yes" or "no" to this Email? I appreciate your consideration as well as
prayers about the direction of our work."
Again, I responded with a "Sure. Use my work."
That was 2 years ago. And now, there's going to be a book. I'll post more details as I get them.
This morning, I continue to be amazed at how my various writing projects travel. I think of all those parables of seeds and yeast and how the smallest things can blossom, even without our attention.
I also got a Facebook message yesterday from the Living Lutheran editor who first published my work on the site: "I was thinking of you yesterday when I used your blog as an example of how to blog for a webinar that I led."
How cool is that?
Last night I came home from work and worked for a few hours on my memoir project. The moon rose outside my east-facing window, and I'd write and then ponder the moon and write some more.
I sank into a deep sleep, but then at 1 a.m., I awoke with a start. I think the house just emitted a deep creak, but when I woke up, I wasn't sure.
I couldn't fall back asleep, so I decided to get up and keep writing. I have this strange vision, that maybe I can have a complete draft of my memoir by the end of the week-end. It will still need one more polishing, but it will be easier to grasp the scope of it. I've been working with bits and pieces, working for one brief spurt here and then another brief spurt a few months later.
I need to plug in a series of gratitude lists throughout the manuscript; I'm going to do the same thing with a series of dream job chapters (one is based on this post, still one of my favorites in the series). But I can't plug them in until I have the complete manuscript.
Although I wouldn't want to awaken at 1 a.m. every day, I feel strangely energized for someone who only got 4 hours of sleep. It's wonderful to have had this time to write!