I Thought Writing Was the Hard Part

When I first started writing this story, I didn’t think of myself as an author.

I wanted the book to be published, yes—but the idea that I would become an author never really connected. At the beginning, I honestly thought the hardest part would be making the book exciting and fun to read. I worried about whether kids would care about the characters or get bored with the story. I wanted it to feel alive—to matter. That felt like the real challenge.

What I didn’t anticipate was how difficult it would be to keep moving forward in the place I was in.

At the time, I had become a full-time caregiver for my adult daughter. Writing happened in scattered moments; between responsibilities, interruptions, and days that didn’t always leave much energy behind. I never felt frustrated with her. I knew I was there first and foremost for her. The book was secondary. In fact, at the beginning, writing was simply a way to fill my time. I had no idea what God was quietly doing in me through it.

I wasn’t even sure I would finish. I had started the manuscript so many times before that I didn’t trust myself to see it through this time either. Some days, finishing a chapter felt like a victory.

The story didn’t really come together until I shifted the main character to Zeke. It wasn’t something I overthought or analyzed. It just fit—like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place. The confusion I’d felt when the other boys each took turns as the main character faded away. Looking back, I can see why. That change connected to something closer to home than I realized at the time. I didn’t ask questions. I was just excited to have finally figured out how the story could move forward.

It wasn’t until I started looking for a publisher that I even considered the idea that I might be an author. And when the manuscript was accepted, that realization still took time to settle in. Even months into the process, saying the words “I’m an author” out loud felt strange and almost unbelievable. It still does. I think it will fully sink in the day I hold the finished book in my hands.

What surprised me most, though, was realizing how much more was required beyond writing the book.

Writing had been my private space. It was just me and my imagination. But building a website, talking with publishers, and sharing my work with others felt exposing. Promoting the book before it was finished was especially hard. I worried about what would happen if it never made it to publication; about having spoken too soon or putting something out there that didn’t happen.

I was okay trusting God with the writing. I struggled more with trusting Him that others would see the hard work, passion, and energy I had poured into it. I was afraid people wouldn’t like it, and that I would have done everything in vain.

Still, I had come farther than I ever thought I could. And because of that, I kept going.

I knew God had placed this story on my heart for a reason. I wrote it because I wanted to make a difference in kids’ lives. That meant trusting Him, not just with the story itself, but with the process of bringing it into the world. Obedience didn’t end with typing The End.

I can’t point to a single moment where everything shifted. But somewhere along the way, I noticed something had changed. I found myself with a new confidence, not just in the book, but in my ability to finish what I had started.

Looking back now, I understand something I didn’t at the beginning.

The hard part wasn’t writing.
It was learning to trust myself—and believing that I had it in me to complete something challenging. Something I had only dreamed of accomplishing.

This story began as an idea more than 12 years ago. And now, it’s finally becoming real.