Writers dream of their first contract.
But having a book published doesn’t mean the journey ends there. New challenges
soon follow. I’m so pleased to have Jennifer Rogers Spinola with
us today. Jennifer has been nominated for a 2012 Christy Award in the first
novel category with her book “Southern
Fried Sushi.” She shares some of the joys and fears she’s
experienced during her own publishing journey. Soak in her encouraging words. ~
Dawn
Live
the Miracle
by
Jennifer Rogers Spinola
Something happens once you’re lucky enough to land a
publishing contract: you silently wring your hands, wondering if you can ever
make it happen again.
It’s a funny thing, this transformation from wide-eyed awe
at the very idea that someone would publish something YOU WROTE to the nervous
fingernail biting of, “Now what? Will I ever publish again, or are my author
days over?” And even funnier is the lightning speed in which it happens, like a
noxious weed suddenly shading out the sun.
I feel it so clearly, even now, as I nestle in my summer-hot
bedroom in South Dakota, glancing over at a corner of my dresser where my tiny,
personal stash of my “Southern Fried Sushi” series novels line up. Reminding me
of euphorious joy at the word “contract”, the copyediting, the exciting cover
design process, the hastily proofed galleys. All culminating in a cardboard box
of books that made its way to Brasilia, Brazil, on a sweltering tropical day.
I stood there on the cool portico under the apartment
complex as the apartment porteiro, or
glorified receptionist/caretaker/handyman, sliced through clear tape with a
pocket knife and peeled back the brown cardboard wings. And there: a layer of
glossy book covers, with my name in perfect script.
Fast forward to now, as I await the publication of my next
two contracted books. I’ve turned in all my manuscripts; all but one galley
proofed. I’ve seen the covers. I have no more contracts.
What now? I worry sometimes, looking over at those books on
my dresser, that I’m done. I rack my brain for ideas, wondering if this plot or
that setting might be just the thing to land a new contract and go through the
delightful process again: the edits, the critiques, the flush of happiness as I
get the scene just right.
Maybe it will.
And yet maybe it won’t.
I sense the same impatience rising up as I stare down at my
swollen belly, still trying to understand how, after eight years of marriage
and one beautiful adopted child later, I am somehow pregnant. A surprise! A
miracle! After years of picturing our family with only three members, I
suddenly imagine the car full of children. New babies and splayed baby name
books. Four, five, or six!
We are Israel wandering in the desert, rushing along from
the parting of the Red Sea and water from the rock to manna, always looking for
something more, something better, something bigger. Leeks! Garlic! We cry in our cravings, forgetting that God has
spared us from death at the hands of Pharaoh’s army. Give us more water! Give us meat!
Something more, something greater—barely allowing the
iridescent dust of a miracle to settle, shimmering, before clamoring for
another one.
And yet something precious is lost when we look beyond the
golden glow of our own unexpected gift, our answered prayer, and immediately
begin to want. To worry. To fret—as I do—“is this it? Or is there more?”
Writers, if you have published a book, rejoice in a gift
that thousands have never enjoyed. If anxiously search Amazon for reviews,
wondering if you’ve got what it takes to publish again, stop! Thank the Lord. Continue to write, of course, but don’t
follow the market like a hound sniffing rabbit blood, desperately trying to
keep up with the trends and publish again at all costs. Write. Just write. And let the Lord guide you. Let
Him inspire you, open the way, put all the shining pieces of His plan in place.
If you’ve never published, rejoice in that, too—for writing
is its own gift. A constant friend, an inner world that only you can hear and
taste. “A writer doesn’t write to be published,” said my dear friend and
professor Dr. Gayle Price, now with the Lord. “She writes because she can’t not write.”
The truth is, we cannot—and should not—try to “reproduce”
the miracle. We cannot force open the bud, or tear open the seed to find the
tender shoot. We wait, pray, write, study our craft—and trust God to bring what
He wants from our labors.
I whisper to the little one nestled in my belly: “Maybe you
will be my only birth child. Maybe you won’t. But you will be perfect, however
you come.”
Live the miracle, whether you write or carry children or
never publish or go to your grave with a barren womb. HE is the miracle—Christ
risen and died for our sins—and the only inspiration and hope we ever need.
 |
| Click to reach Amazon. |
Jennifer
Rogers Spinola lives in Belle Fourche, South Dakota with her Brazilian
husband, Athos, and three-year-old son, Ethan. She and her family just
relocated to rural South Dakota after spending eight years in Brazil, and
before that, Jennifer served two years in northern Japan as a Baptist
missionary. She is the author of Barbour Books' "Southern Fried Sushi"
series—including one Christy Award finalist novel—and an upcoming romance
novella collection based on Yellowstone National Park (also with Barbour Books)
to be released in 2013. Jennifer is an advocate for adoption and loves the
outdoors, photography, writing, and camping. She has previously served as a
middle- and high-school teacher, ESL teacher in Japan and Brazil, and National
Park Service volunteer. Jenny has a B.A. in English/journalism from
Gardner-Webb University in North Carolina. She is a member of Emmanuel Baptist
Church in Belle Fourche, Association of Christian Fiction Writers, and
International Christian Fiction Writers.
If you want to learn more about Jennifer, please visit:
Professional website:
www.jenniferrogersspinola.com
Family website: http://glimpses.aggeai.com/
