Now that we’re all ‘stay at home people,’ you’ve got time to read, so why not. You can get this book from Barnes and Noble in a few days.
In light of the Covid-19 virus and how it’s affecting the world this spring, our Church buildings will be empty this Easter, and so was the tomb.
I rather hesitantly post this note. But as the experts in the game of selling books say, boost it, boost it, tell people about it, ’em know where to get it. Yes, if you don’t tell your friends and neighbors how much they may enjoying reading something created by you, they’ll miss out. Expert advice.
So, Folks, here it is on Amazon.
“It brings clarity, creates warmth, and provides power. Our need for light is often felt most in the middle of our literal or metaphysical darkest night, which is right where this verse begins. Isaiah is speaking to the people of God, who in their time of need chose to look to other nations for salvation rather than to Yahweh. The outcome of their choice was total devastation. The temple is destroyed, their nation is disbanded, and they are exiled to foreign countries.”
“What’s happened? I thought we had till the end of the week,” Robert says.
“Robert,” Peter starts, “The newspaper got wind of the find. Now the Ag Department wants a voice added to the mix. And, our buddies told the media they knew nothing about it until a local reporter stumbled upon it. That damn Reno Daily Bit! The Ag lawyer read about it and called me first thing. They’re gathering signatures for a class-action lawsuit against us.”
“What? Okay, I got it, Peter. They don’t have a thing against us that would stand up in court. Calm down. I’ll take care of it. But, please, don’t get us into any more of these contracts.”
“You know how they spin the news . . . Damn reporters. I must go. The car is waiting for me. Call when you finish this deal.”
Back in 2012, I finished and self-published my first novel: “Montesquie, New World Island.” It traces the move of the family to a new Volcanic Island in the Pacific Ocean to escape the intrusions of the federal government. That same year, I published the sequel.
My next adventure in fiction writing was “Considering the Ant. Memoirs of Samuel Guardyall,” published in 2017. It’s about a man, who after his wife died in a car wreck, he gets the news that his grandfather left him a log cabin. He works at adjusting to the hardships of life without any modern conveniences.
These three novels were quickly self-published without any edits of my grammatical errors. I was too excited to spend months or a year correcting those English misdeeds. I wanted to hold these books in my hand and be able to give them away to friends and relatives, so the errors were also throughout.
My next adventure in the publishing industry in 2017 was a book named “Rummagings.” It’s a compilation of my online blog posts from 2005-2007.
Then in 2018, I put together a short history of, “School Bus Then and Now.” That was a give away to my friends and associates of the Broken Arrow School bus transportation system. I was retiring after ten plus years of transporting kids to and from schools. I did that to keep busy after my full-retirement from a twelve year career position with the City of Tulsa as a golf course greens keeper.
Now, “Just a Matter of Time, Until the End of Time,” is on the market. Over four-months sometime in the future, this Christian family of four deals with persecution and the continual oversight of the government. I finished the original draft over a year ago, but this time I wanted to do it right. It was edited, corrected, and professionally edited again, sentence by sentence.
That, my folks, is the history of my putting thoughts and ideas in black and white.
From the first Chapter.
Janice Amwestson carefully steps between the rows of vegetables in her backyard garden alongside the greenhouse. She looks over the roof of the greenhouse, her ears tuned for a whirling noise. She directs her gaze over the house, into the blanket of treetops, as the rising sun illuminates the scattered white fluffy clouds. “Another beautiful day.” Her husband, Robert, hollers out the back door, “Honey, I’m leaving. I may be a bit later at the office. I’m taking the bike. Got that meeting tomorrow evening.”
“Be careful,” Janice replies as the screen door squeaks.
Janice has a wicker basket over her left forearm that holds a few of the selectively chosen first ripened tomatoes, an immature head of iceberg lettuce, and a few cucumbers. She methodically bites into a tomato concentrating on the taste. Looking at the other half, she wonders at the complexity of the intricate design. “How magnificent this is.”
That’s the title and sub-title of my new novel soon to be released. Yippee, I scream in delight. Finally, after penning the original draft for about a year, then another year of changes, edits, corrections, and more edits to this finality.
The last two days have been numb, a dark cloud hanging over me. Couldn’t get away from the TV. College Football? Who won? The Cubs, yeah, they lost another. Movies. Huh? The chair was comforting, nice and soft, within easy reach of the coffee cup and snacks. Sunday Professional football. Who won? Who cares? When will I hear from that publisher? Been working on that novel for two years. If yes, then what? Requirements from them to publicize the book. Yuck, not my cup of java. Finally, had enough and got out of the house. Saw a good friend and shared burden. A smile and the dark cloud started moving away. Back to the chair and more movies. Finally, prepping to crawl into bed when a remembrance of a hymn broke across the numbness.
“When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.
Then sings my soul, My
Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!”
Yes, all is well with my soul.