He heard again, as he had heard throughout his childhood,
the pounding wheel…the whistle-wail, and he remembered
how these sounds…had always evoked for him…their glorious
promises of new lands, morning, and a shining city…

…The magnetic pull of home, why he had thought so much
about it and remembered it with such blazing accuracy…

—Thomas Wolfe
_____________

It seemed so intimidating, back then, six months ago. So, well, daunting. But they smiled, the Tyndale people. Reassuringly. Of course it could be done. Especially after we got together for a day, and picture-boarded the story. All I had to do then was connect the dots. Fill in the blanks.

But that’s not how I write, I wanted to tell them. It’s an organic thing, to me. The process. I never quite know how the story will end, what details will emerge.

Trust us, they said.

And so I did. Had little choice, really. They were giving me an opportunity so rare, it was almost incomprehensible. A major publishing company, and they wanted my story. A lot of people dream of and strive for that all their lives, and never get the chance.

And so I began, six months ago. Working on my book. Since that time, it has been the primary focus of my life. Always there, every waking moment. Day after day, and week after week. Always there, lurking in my mind, with me as I faced each day.

Normally, I think, a manuscript is written from start to finish. Then submitted for editing. It freaked me out a good bit, to think of that. What if it wasn’t what they wanted, after all that effort?

Once again, the nice Tyndale people smiled kindly. They’d seen it all before, I’m sure. Newbie writers freaking out. We would work it out, they said. Just write a few chapters every month, and send those in. That way, we can give you feedback as you write.

So that’s what we did. All summer. Every month, another batch. I kept plugging away. Sent in forty to sixty pages a month, right along. Earlier today, I emailed the sixth and final section. Except for editing and rewriting, which will be an intense process, it’s done. The first draft of the book is written. A huge milestone in my life. Just huge.

This weekend, for the first time in six months, I plan to relax. Vedge, as in couch potato, watching football. No agenda, nothing. And most of all, for a few days, at least, there will be no writing on my mind.

It’s been an intense road. Both the writing, and the extended journey back through the years. Back to places I had not been for decades. Places buried in my mind. And buried for a reason.

The memories came roaring back, from all those miles and years. I pried them open, swept aside the cobwebs, and ventured in. Flinched, sometimes, at what I found. Turned my face away. There are some places in the past you just don’t go, not willingly. But I did. Forced myself. Looked around, and wrote. Some of the scenes were among the most brutally tough things I’ve ever tried to write. Stuff you’ve never seen on my blog.

What in the world could I have been thinking, way back, when it all came down? The pride and folly of youth. So raw, so selfish, so thoughtless. That was part of it. And yet, pulsing through it all, the hungry relentless yearning of the human spirit to live free, to touch and see and know. And taste. That was part of it, too.

The summer flew by. I kept plugging on. Through it all, I tried to keep a normal schedule. Or as normal as possible. Still working full time at my real job. Working out at the gym. Stirring up occasional fights, uh, discussions, on Facebook. Still watching baseball, Nascar, then football. Still writing a bit on the blog, now and then. Each month, I focused only on the writing due that month. Didn’t allow myself to think much, even, that it was for a book. Just get it written. You can absorb it all soon enough, what it is and what it really means.

And then, last month, an email from Carol Traver, the senior nonfiction editor at Tyndale. The lady who, at her sole discretion, decided to take the risk, to present to the Tyndale Board the proposal for my book. Now, she had designed a cover for the book, and wanted to run it by me. Make sure I approved. I opened the file. Scrolled down. And there it was. It took my breath away.

That’s not me, walking away, although it could be me. The cover is beautiful, and stunningly symbolic. The Tyndale people are true professionals, all of them. At that moment, it really hit me for the first time. This was the culmination of all my efforts, all those hours of sweat and labor through six long and intense months. All that time, spent writing this past summer, would eventually result in this. A real book, that you can pick up and hold in your hands. And read. A real book, in real bookstores.

I recoiled a bit at the title. At least, at first. But Carol explained. They wanted some- thing simple, something easily passed on by word of mouth. I would, of course, be welcome to suggest other titles. They will consider all offers.

So here’s a contest for my readers. If you can think of a better title, email me. Or just post it here on the blog. If Tyndale accepts your suggestion, I’ll give you fifty bucks in cash, and a signed copy of the book. Remember, simplicity, simplicity, simplicity. And, of course, the word “Amish” included somehow.

They plan to release the book next summer sometime. As of now, no specific date has been set. I’ll keep you posted.

Summer reading, for 2011. Spread the word.