September 29, 2021
I came up with the idea of
writing a weekly essay back in 2006, after I had signed my first contract with
my publisher. I wanted to “get my name out there”, but I had zero advertising
budget. This was in the days of Yahoo! Groups, and of course I belonged to
several that were devoted to authors and readers. Membership was free, and as long as you
followed the rules, you had access to hundreds of readers. Those groups proved
useful for promo events, where one could have a virtual party and chat with
readers. I and several of my fellow authors did just that on several occasions during
those early years. But in the beginning I thought, if I could come up with something
in writing that I could post on a regular basis, well, at least the reader
would know I was capable of stringing some sentences together. I decided upon
the idea of a weekly essay.
That first very short missive
was posted on November 22 of that year and was about Thanksgiving—American and Canadian.
About our differences, yes, but more, our similarities.
In a way, I have always
considered these weekly essays as a form of alms, if you will, for the
blessings of talent and opportunity that I’ve received. I never know, necessarily,
when I open a fresh document and put my fingers on the keyboard just what, exactly,
I’m going to write about. But the words come. Over the years I’ve heard from a
lot of people in response to my Wednesday’s Words. Often, my words turned out
to be exactly what someone needed to hear in that moment, and that’s why
I began to think of them as alms.
There are times when these
essays have been funny, and times when they’ve been dead serious. I’ve used my
words to make a point, to talk about some things in the headlines, but most usually,
I suppose and looking back I can confirm that what I’ve mostly done is, I’ve
forced life-advice upon you. I smiled as I wrote that sentence. I often hear
younger people moaning about the general unfairness of life and that has to be
one of my most prolific topics (and one of my hot buttons), because life isn’t
meant to be fair, and I just think it’s only right to say that out loud, and often,
so everyone knows it up front and going forward.
In May of 2007 I shared in one
of my essays that I was seeing a grief counselor because I needed help dealing
with the death of my middle child, my son, Anthony. He died at the age of 29, just
before I received word that my first novel had been accepted for publication. Sharing
not just the grief but my struggle to deal with it was a difficult thing for me
to do, but I knew it was necessary. And I heard from other grieving and
struggling mothers as a result. I’ve made it my policy to always respond to any
contact from anyone who reaches out to me. My words helped them, and I have
come to know in this life that helping others—also known as a giving of increase—is
a very worthwhile accomplishment. In fact, when all is said and done, I believe
it is the only accomplishment in life that matters.
If you’re a regular reader of these words of
mine, you undoubtedly know that I have an opinion about practically everything.
I’ve also been as transparent as I can be over the years about who I am and what
I believe in, because at the heart of these essays that’s really the whole point.
As I progressed as an author,
I tended to lean that way in my novels, too. Some of the life challenges my
characters have had to navigate are close to me, to what I’ve been through in
life, or what others whom I know well have been through. And as I have continued
on in that vein, I am very pleased to say it’s not only my essays that have touched
my readers. Readers of my novels have let me know that my stories have helped
them deal with various life issues, have shed light on something in the past
they knew they hadn’t dealt with well—in other words, my words have meant
something to them, personally. My words have been a small help. For that alone I
am eternally grateful.
At the beginning of the
pandemic, I asked my readers: should I pretend there’s no such thing as
Covid-19, or should I acknowledge it? Most of my readers were ok with my
including it as a minor subplot and let me know that I should trust my
instincts—and that they would, too.
More than ever, I felt that
need to help others. To use my words to do what I could to address the worries
and concerns that readers had shared with me, or that I had learned of by “lurking”
on Face Book and shamelessly reading the threads posted on people’s pages.
Even before this pandemic, my
readers’ hands-down favorite character from my Lusty, Texas series has been
Kate Wesley Benedict—Grandma Kate. And it was Grandma Kate who stepped up in
each of the novels published, to date, during this pandemic. It was Grandma
Kate who calmed fears and reminded her family of the most important things in
life. Grandma Kate helped hold her family together, and she has been invaluable
in carrying my own soul-deep belief that hard things don’t come to stay; they
come to pass.
And that is why, despite the
fact that in every way possible my stories are permeated with reality, I have
decided that there is one area, one very important area, in which I will ignore
reality completely. It is the one thing of which I write now and will write in
the future that truly is fantasy. But I don’t think my readers will complain about
that one bit.
Grandma Kate, you see, will remain
her hale and hearty self at 93, forever.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
No comments:
Post a Comment