publishers

It’s done.

I hit the send key last Friday.

After two years of fighting with myself and the manuscript — and spiritual forces of darkness — the revised second edition of my book, titled Carried by Grace, is now with the publisher ready for her to work her layout magic.

Help! My Husband Has Sexually Abused our Daughter: A Devotional Guide for Mothers of Victims was my first book. I knew nothing about the publishing world and did a lot of things wrong in my efforts to find a publisher. No one really wanted to touch the topic, especially from an ignorant newbie author who didn’t have anything else in the works.

So I went the POD publishing route. And marketed the book to Focus on the Family. The book made their approved list, was carried in their online bookstore, and placed on the list for their counselors to send out to those who needed help.

When my publishing contract came up for renewal five years later, I decided not to renew. I had learned a lot about writing in those intervening years and decided to revise the book, make it better. Several times since taking it off the shelves, the counselors at Focus on the Family have asked me when it will be available again. They sent it out regularly to hurting moms facing that situation.

That’s what writing is all about for me — ministering the hope of God to others and offering them encouragement for wherever they are in life.

Many writers have a similar purpose that drives them to write. They’re passionate about helping others, whether it’s through writing nonfiction or fiction.

I want to encourage you.

Keep plugging away at that manuscript.

Learn all you can about the craft and write, write, write.

Be diligent at finding a publisher or to research self-publishing options.

Persevere to reach your dreams as a writer.

I’d like to share a quote from Carried by Grace and reveal the new cover.

“I sat that August morning in the living room staring out the front window. A few days earlier my daughter had threatened suicide and been admitted to a local psychiatric hospital. My husband sat in jail, arrested for sexually abusing her. My eyes burned from a night of tears and fitful sleep. The rosy hues of sunrise promised a warm Colorado summer day, but as I pulled my knees tightly to my chest I felt swallowed by darkness — like Jonah in the belly of the whale. Grief consumed me and fear of what was ahead nearly paralyzed me.”

How do you hope to minister to the wounds and hurts of others? Share your desires in the comments below.