Several years ago, as I was struggling to find my place in the writing world, my neighbor found out I was writing. She told me, “I’ve always wanted to write a children’s book.”
“There’s no time like the present. Start writing,” I said.
She had all the same excuses I had. Her kids were still home and taking up a lot of her time. She helped out in their orchard and did the books for the farm. I encouraged her to start writing a little every day.
The next time I saw her she said, “I’m writing a book.” She was so pleased, and I was happy for her. She did everything right. She joined a critique group, and worked hard on her books, writing and rewriting them. She was patient and when someone would suggest a change in her manuscript, she would painstakingly go through it. Because she didn’t like to drive, I drove her to Eugene so she could use the college library for research. (This was before Google!)
Even though I wrote mysteries and she wrote children’s adventure books, we loved talking about writing together. I read some of her early work and encouraged her to keep writing. She was such a good writer. I knew she’d make it someday and her books would be out in the world for children to enjoy and learn from.
I don’t know how many manuscripts she finished, but she worked hard on one and when it was done, she asked me to read it. Her critique group had read it and liked it, but she wanted another set of eyes on it before she started shopping it around. I was happy to and blown away by how professional it was. It was polished, and I couldn’t wait to tell her how much I enjoyed it and that I felt it was ready to be sent out to agents or publishers.
I remember going to her house that day. She sat in her recliner looking like she always did. I had no premonition of what she was about to tell me. After we talked a bit, I told her I thought her book was great. There were a couple of little things I thought she could change, but I knew it was ready for publication.
She smiled at me. “Lana, I just found out I have cancer.”
My heart sank. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. But you can beat it. And while you’re recovering, you can work on getting this book to agents. I’ll help you all I can.”
“No,” she said, still smiling at me, “You don’t understand. They gave me six weeks.”
I’m sure in that instant my heart stopped beating for a moment. I couldn’t accept it. I had no words to say to her. I just kept repeating, “I’m so sorry,” over and over. Then she said, “I really thought I’d have twenty more years to write.” She had just turned sixty.
I hugged her and asked what I could do for her, and she shook her head. “There’s nothing anyone can do.” I told her I’d be back to see her and if she needed anything to let me know. I said all the things you say during times like that. Things that make you feel better when you know there really isn’t anything you can do.
Then I went home and cried.
A few days later, I went back to check on her. Her husband and daughter were outside, and I asked if I could see her. Her husband got tears in his eyes and her daughter said, “Mom passed this morning.”
I couldn’t believe it. This bright, beautiful woman who had so much potential, who’d worked so hard to put her work out there for others to enjoy had passed before she had time to get her book out to the world. I know if she had lived, she would’ve had many books out by now.
My own journey has taken several more years. I didn’t take my own advice very well until I reached a certain age and thought, “I’ve got to get these books out there!” If I could leave you with anything, it’s that there is no time like the present. If you want to write, you have to start. You have to make it a priority. Because no one knows how long they may have.
And one of the great things about writing is that there is no mandatory retirement age. You can write as long as you want. You can write one very long book—think War and Peace or Gone with the Wind—or many shorter books. But you won’t have any written if you don’t start writing now.
Go! Why are you still here reading this? Go work on your book!








You must be logged in to post a comment.