My first attempt at literature, written in fourth grade, was a (very short) novelette entitled The Day Pearl Harbor was Bombed!, which followed the jarring adventures of a young man in the navy in 1941. I was very, very proud of my accomplishment and decorated the cover with patriotic drawings and my mom probably showed it off when her friends came over to visit. Because that's what moms do.
It's been a long while since Pearl Harbor made its debut, and a lot has happened since. I've grown up, and learned some things, and became a significantly better speller. And I keep thinking of things to say and so I keep writing them down.
And somehow, by the grace of God and maybe a happy accident, I've managed to write a book. A real one. It's exactly 138 pages longer than The Day Pearl Harbor was Bombed!, and not half as dramatic.
I would continue to try to wax poetic about writing and Jesus and la tee da, but at this point all I can think is, IS THIS REAL LIFE?!, so there's that.
Here's the link: Buy Relentless here!
I'll just be over here dancing around like a maniac to Broadway showtunes and eating brownies. PT freaking L.