As of yesterday, January 19, 2010, I experienced a dream come true, a dream I've dreamt since I was in fourth grade. I received the galley of my first novel. For the first time in my life I held in my hand the very first copy of my very first novel -- ever.

I expected something different since I'd dreamed it for so long, but what came over me was a calmness, an absolute peace. I'm not sure if having a dream of such magnitude arrive in the mail has sent me into shock or what. It feels like a calm knowingness, an utter peacefulness of knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that this has already happened and I'm now just catching up to what's been waiting for me.

I've spent today reading. It's a 261 page novel. I'm on page 99 and took a break to call a fellow writer in the Colorado mountains. And now I'm still taking a break while workers are up in the attic in my studio. (It's too distracting to concentrate.)

I'm reading to look for errors. I'm checking for anything that's not to my liking, and here's what I've discovered. Even though I've been editing, re-writing, and meticulously combing through this manuscript for years, I'd change a multitude of things even to this day. Because why? Because I'm different. Because I'm different I want my characters to respond differently, my wording to be joined differently, and my messages to be conveyed differently.

That's why it's taken so long to rewrite this. How do I know when it's finished? When I say I'm done. I'm feeling very done. I feel it's time to finish diapering this baby, pat it on its butt, and send it on its way. It's time for me to move on, to accomplish the next thing in my life I feel called to do. It's time for me to explore new venues, to speak before crowds, to design new images, and to create new worlds, not continue to rewrite the ones I've already been through.

So, that being said, it's time to get back to reading page 99 and the rest of its relatives. And the men are still crawling around the attic above me with the ladder pulled down behind my chair. I can proof anyway.

Because it's time to call this bad boy done. Ah...I feel the load lifting as I swivel my chair back around to the book. Soon, it will be available to the masses through Amazon. Its name is Healing Grace, and mine is Jill Luigs. And with a few clicks on the computer the book could be in your hands too.

So, let me finish reading...

Just another side trip down memory lane

Here's the deal. I am Jill Luigs, writer of a book called Healing Grace that's coming out this year. Look for it on Amazon. Grace James is the name of my heroine. I love that word. It just sounds so wrong for the main character of a novel, but there you have it.

I really tried to write this blog from Grace's point of view, but you know what? I have too much to say to remain quiet.

I wrote this novel many years ago, back when I kept my silence. There was a long period of my life that I felt muted about my own feelings and just trashed out angry words about nothing. How do we get ourselves into those situations? I look back on that time of my life and realize that I blindly followed the dictates of another. I woke in the mornings with a to-do list a mile long of things someone else needed me to do for him. I bought that bill of goods for most of my life. Now I'm putting together a life made up of moments of doing what I feel led to do. The thing of it is, I feel led to write a lot. It's as if words come tumbling out because they've been bottled up for years. I write every day. I write and write and write. And when I don't write, I talk. The words never stop. They spill forth because there's no way to contain them anymore.

Now I get paid to use those words. Thank you, Jesus! I can now get paid for the words that spew out into cyberspace. I now live a life authentic to me. Woo hoo! What a concept. Who knew?

And because of that I've had people pour into my life to help me in every way possible. This morning before 10:00 I had two "new" men in my life doing business with me in ways I would have never thought of before, but here they are and we're making magic together. Again, woo hoo!

And -- drumroll please! -- there's been another development that really took me by surprise, and it's appropriate that I'm writing about him on Grace's blog because he's a writer. He showed up in Steamboat Springs, CO the month I left. He sat at the table next to me in the library. We were both "writing" if I recall correctly, but instead I think we were basking in the chemistry between us. I had an appointment I couldn't change so I wasn't able to stay and get to know him better then, but it didn't take long to discover so many things about him.

He met most of my friends. We went out several times. We had a very memorable evening at a table in a local restraunt that was continued outside and then in the driveway of the home where I was staying and finally in my bedroom. Let me just say that this man is good. I won't go any further. It will be left up to your imagination what that means, but he is really good.

The last I had heard from him was Christmas day until last Sunday. Out of the blue he called me, and I haven't been able to stop thinking of him since. Suddenly I remember what we did together as if it were last night or even just a moment ago. I remember what his bare chest looked like hovering above me, how his biceps bulged as he held himself up. I remember what it was like to curl up in his arms in my bed and how he stroked my back as he held me. I remember the feel of his chest hair on my cheek as I laid my head on it. I remember how he picked me up and carried me to my bed the last night we were together in Steamboat. He had helped me move my studio into the U-haul all day, and then he gave me a night I will never forget. Ever.

And for whatever reason he called me last Sunday after 6 months of not hearing from him. How nice...

Now, back to my words. I apparently needed a little side trip down memory lane. I couldn't help myself, but now I'm back. Oh yes, my words. Hm, I'm having a little difficulty concentrating on words at the moment. Suddenly they've become unnecessary. I think I'm going to just go back on the side trip I just came back from, because I don't think that little vacation has come to end quite yet.