The Magdalene Poems is all but done. I’m waiting on permissions to use some quotes in my epigraphs, and a beloved artist wanted to know if he could contribute one of his pieces for the back cover, which is ever so nice! I’m looking through different suggestions now.
One of the last things I wrote was the dedication page – “for my Naomi.” Followers of my blog will understand who this is. It felt like a fitting tribute to a dear friend.
But strangely, I’m feeling no inclination to seek publication, at least not now. All the signs are pointing to “Wait.” So I wait. I’m learning to do this better now, without impatience, trusting that “guidance asked for is guidance given.” I’ll know when the time is right to take the next step. And I think my body is grateful I’m not stressing out about it. My mind too. Such a relief to let things unfold as they want, rather than trying to force them or manipulate them. Which is not to say I ain’t been tempted. Oh-HO yeah! But I’ve come to the surprising realization that I just might not be the wisest being in this Universe, so some things can be left safely in the care of the One Who Is. 
Funny thing, though. I’d hardly tapped out the last period on the manuscript when the idea for another one slipped into my head. Really? That quick? No rest for the weary? I guess not. It’s actually a manuscript I began, oh, years ago! I pulled out my notes on a whim and found myself getting caught up in the story again. I kept saying things like, “Oh that’s good! Oh yeah, that there? That’s really good! Wow! I’d forgotten about that! That’s really REALLY good!” And that’s all it took.
See, there’s this thing that happens when a story is trying to come through. I start zoning out. I lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I’ve been known to shave only one leg in the shower, or forget to rinse the conditioner from my hair. I have a fitness program for my treadmill that requires me to make manual adjustments in speed and incline and I’ll find I’ve missed the moment when I’m supposed to do that. I’ll call myself back to attention only to miss another moment later on. Riding in the car, sitting in church, listening to a reading, eating lunch, the few moments before I close my eyes in sleep. It can happen almost anywhere.
And then there’s times when I’m pulled so deep into the story it’s like I’m there watching it unfold, hearing the dialogue, feeling the emotions of the characters. It’s so real! And when I return, I’m left with an awful challenge – “How am I ever going to write that?” I think all writers must have this experience – the blessed moment of revelation, and the terrible self-doubt that follows.
So, that’s where I’m at right now. It’s a wondrous and humbling time. I’m not ready to reveal the subject of this newest manuscript; I want to have more on paper before I do that, but I will say it’s another biblical woman, and her story is coming out as prose, not poetry.
Oh mercy!
For better or worse, I’m writing a novel.
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