I’m writing from the Blue Ridge Mountains at a place call Ridgecrest where I’m attending a writer’s conference.

I love it here.

Last evening there was a question and answer session with editors, authors and agents. The last question was how long was it from the time you decided to write to the time you were published?

Some published almost immediately. One of the authors waited over 20 years. That same author had polled 60 authors and found that on average they had not published until age 48. (I have eight years to go–I hope I publish before that time.)

Before this question and answer session, I was questioning whether there would be a next year for me. It gets discouraging. This year the discouraging thing is that my novel doesn’t have the word count needed for most of the major publishers.

One liked my hook. One liked my voice. Those were women. I pitch to men today. It’s a romance, so I don’t know how that will go.

I have tons of revision to do on my first chapters.

My prayer this week has been, “How long O Lord?”

In 1996 I thought I might like to write, so I bought a box of paper. Yes, my first act of writing was to buy a box of paper. For years that box of paper sat in storage.

In 2000 I took some online writing classes, because I didn’t even know how to start a story. I had the setting but no character or plot. The first writing class helped me find the story. Now stories are everywhere for me. In fact, I have so many it is almost paralyzing, because I don’t know which one to write. I like them all.

Psalm 13:1-3 (New International Version)

For the director of music. A psalm of David.

1 How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?

2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

3 Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;