I'm going to a book-signing on Saturday. It's for a friend. We were in the same writers' group for a while, and I got to read the book in process. When I first met her, she struck me because she looked like and has the same name as a classmate of mine in college. Turns out she's actually from Vancouver, across the river from where I grew up. In addition, her great aunt and uncle homesteaded my neighborhood. Nobody knows my neighborhood, and those who do never have positive thoughts about it.
Anyway, her book is impossible. It's a YA Christian fantasy story. She wrote it while working in the horticulture section of Safeway. It got picked up--it and two more--very shortly after she finished it. And now it's published.
How did that happen? I have no idea. But if there's anything to take away it's this: there is always hope.
The Prophet by R.J. Larson
Kersley Fitzgerald is still impatiently awaiting the arrival of her nephew. He's over a week late and seems to be little affected by the drugs that are supposed to hurry him along. As of this writing, her sister, Cheesentoast, is resting comfortably and watching MythBusters.
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