My daughter, Selah, will be turning five on the 22nd and I will host her party on the 26th. My intentions were to give her a small, girl only dress up party at a local boutique, then call it a day. However, now I have twice the girls, more than a handful of adults. The store cannot accomodate all these people.
My wallet can't accomodate all these people.
My home can't accomododate all these people.
My chest is tight. An imaginary stress line is strangling me or at least trying to sever my head from body. Time is running out. And pretty soon the party goers parents will get tired of my changing plans.
This is not what I planned.
All I want to do is have some fun.
Aha!
All I wanted my book to do was have fun. Create a wacky character, who gets herself in some serious trouble and watch her scramble out of it. And learn a few things about my self and my relationship with God along the way. Nothing too fancy. Nothing too contrived.
But just like this party I have overplanned this book.
At this point I don't give a flying flip about what's supposed to be christian fiction.
I've read enough of everyone's expert opinion and written enough muddle of my own.
I've read enough books that poorly represent what I want in a book and have written enough muddle of my own.
I want to have fun. That's all.
So I pulled out the letter Chucky P wrote me. I reread the part where he wanted me to have more fun with my writing.
Aha!
And that's what I'm gon' do.
Selah's party will be great no matter what I decide.
And this book...Chris, this book must have Reverend Pugh in it.
And so it will. Aha!
Writing to see what the end gon' be,
Dee
The Pruning Principle
2 years ago
