Off to prepare for tomorrow–which means preparing for Saturday. I told Dad about it, but he was preoccupied with getting me to a doctor. He’s also obsessed with getting the family talking again. I don’t know how that’ll happen–we’re not talking because of The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy. To get this far without any emotional support from my family is nothing short of a miracle.
To complete Book II: The Saga of Thranduil (my first book and the first book in my first trilogy) is only celebrated by me and my readers and personally, I don’t think I should have to drop this for those who didn’t support me in any way when I needed it–I changed my entire life to write this book on blind faith not knowing what would happen or where it would lead.
I’m proud of the book and the story. It is one of my greatest accomplishments because I had to get over my fear of writing narrative (after 17 years of writing screenplays and plays). I had to re-learn Tolkien all over again; learning his languages and Middle-Earth History while writing. To do it in 17 months and have 497 pages of a story without any familial support to me is nothing short of miraculous. Life is hard enough with family but to face the unknown with odds stacked against you alone is nearly impossible. If not for my doctors (and friends here) I don’t think I could have done it.
Still have a way to go, but to get here is more than I could have imagined or ever hoped for. There is something about getting somewhere on your own–when the deck is stacked against you and darkness is all around you. You get to the light and look back and know you are strong enough to withstand anything. Having a family is nice–having a support system is wonderful. But if they aren’t there, you have to keep going–especially if you believe in something. I was lucky–Thranduil wouldn’t let me let it go. He had a story to tell and wanted to tell it.
I’m glad I didn’t give up when I could have. I’m glad I wrote every day–sometimes 12 hours a day–for months. When I was sad or upset, I found my voice in Thranduil and before I knew it, I have made it through the darkest time of my life. I still have work to do (editing, ugh) but I know how strong I am now. I finished my first book for my Dad. He may not remember it, but he’s still alive when I did it. He is still here to see me beat all the odds–to do what many thought impossible and to prove to myself that I’m stronger than I thought I was. After all, when I started, my doctor told me my illness would kill me and I would lose my hearing. The day I finished the first 360 pages of Book II, my illness went into remission and my father survived a stroke that didn’t paralyze him. I think he lives for me so I will live for him now.
It’s true, you never know how strong you are until it is the only choice you have left. Saturday is the culmination of strength and perseverance. It is proof that faith isn’t just a word. I made it this far; I guess a little stage fright I can handle.