I have always found that gratitude to be a soothing balm, received or given. Since launching my book, Silenced to Death, just last month, I have received armfuls of love and support. My gratitude for seeing the sales go up and up is profound. I am so very grateful, thank you.

For the love of reading, there go I. Florida is our winter retreat from our home in northern Minnesota, which sits too close to International Falls, which proudly boasts of the lowest winter temperatures. To me that is not boastable.

As I sit staring over the ocean four new books are waiting for me to crack open their covers, but I’ve been distracted. My attention has turned to resurrecting a book I had started years ago. The writing is atrocious, but if I hadn’t decided that book was shit, I wouldn’t have started Silenced to Death. There are reasons for everything.

My opinion is the idea for the first story is great, and the dialogue is funny. The title is nondescript and hopefully as I plow through the editing, a better title may come to mind replacing 101 Bittersweet Sour Road. See what I mean? No emotion in the title. I’ll continue to pick away at the changes in the book, verb tense, redundancy, timeline and flow. We’ll see if it has a chance with my readers.

The other thing that keeps me from relaxing is my reading of Silenced to Death in book form. For two years I have read, edited and re-read it but only on my computer screen. Reading it with the pages incapsulated inside the book covers is thrilling to me. I wrote those words, I picked the font for the chapter heading, picked out the cover, stressed over my picture and cried over my lack of confidence. I am grateful for the push, pull, and grace I was provided by God. (I am smiling, with all my teeth showing.)

I am grateful.