Update On Writing // Where Dandelions Grow Part 8

I just spent the last four and a half hours working on my editing, my writing, emails (about writing), etc… Woosh! It can be kind of hard at times to stay focused on stuff on hot, sticky days. {And I would try and make myself sound really good by saying I’m here slaving away when most of my family’s at the fair in town, but the truth is I hate fairs and would much rather be doing this…} Getting this stuff done is good, though. Really good. And it helps me feel like I’m *finally* accomplishing stuff. 

I’ve also been working on answering some questions like this:

What is the burning passion behind this book? What compelled you to sit down at your desk after hours or before your kids got up every morning to write this message? Of all the things you could write about, why this message? What is the motivation behind writing this book? 

And this:

What is the unique message of the book? What are you going to say that hasn’t been said before or how are you going to say it differently?  What makes your book compelling to read?  Give us your “elevator speech” that one or two sentence summary that best describes exactly what your book is about, who it’s for and how it will help the reader. {Questions from Here}

Do you realize how hard questions like that are to answer? Like really, really hard. It actually took me back to my growing-up years in school, and I was like “Wow, this is what I was learning all that stuff for!”

The book I’ve been focusing on today was Where Dandelions Grow, and I realized that hey, I really like the style I used in the book. 😉 I don’t know if I told y’all or not, but Destiny is based loosely off of me. There’s one part (later on in the book), when she has too much caffeine, and I actually found myself smiling at how much I was like her in that particular place.

Greeness… It’s still Summer, y’all!
Pictures taken by my ‘adopted’ mom.

Anyway, here is part eight from Where Dandelions Grow:

Lifting her head, Grandma gazed into my eyes, as if trying to read what was there. 
“I hadn’t even realized you were alive.” I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing quite how to continue. “Mom doesn’t like talking about Swallow Ridge or any of her family.” More like she commanded me to never mention them to her or anyone else again. “And I couldn’t recollect you from my childhood, so I didn’t know what to think.” Offering Grandma what I hoped was a friendly smile, I shrugged my shoulders again. “There’s so many questions I’ve been longing to ask someone. I would love it if you could answer some for me.” 
“You mean you want to be my friend?” 
The weird thought crossed my mind that Grandma was like a stray dog that had been kicked and neglected for so long, and now that someone was offering her something good, she didn’t know what to think. 
“Of course I want to be your friend. Dad’s mom died years ago, so I’ve never had a grandma before.” 
“Well, I’d be honored.” A tear slid slowly down her cheek. “And whenever you decide you’ve had enough of me, I’ll understand.” 
“Had enough of you?” I didn’t understand. 
“After I answer your questions. If you realize the way I treated your mother and aunts was too unforgiving, then I’ll understand.” 
Just then Mrs. Reed came back in the room, and soon she and Grandma were in a lively conversation and it seemed as if I was forgotten. Not that I minded. I had so much to think about I’m not sure what I would have done if they were expecting me to keep up a third of the lively chatter. 
“Thank you for coming to meet your grandma,” Mrs. Reed said after we had left the house.
“She seemed to think I would hate her, why’s that?” I asked. 
“It’s a long story.” Mrs. Reed smiled over at me, a sweet, grandmotherly kind of smile. “She didn’t raise her daughter’s in a loving way. They left her. She feels sad, alone, neglected and unworthy of any love. Like an outcast. In this town family is very important. To have your family forget about you is as bad as it gets.”
“But why was she so driven to success?” 
“I guess that’s something you’re going to have to ask her.” 
It wasn’t until Mrs. Reed had walked me back to Novelty, that I remembered the CD and my cousin Teal. 
“I’m so glad you went to meet your grandma,” Kate said when I came in the door. “Go ahead and lock it and put the closed sign out, will you?” 
“Was she like you expected?” Kate peered closely at me, as if trying to read my mind. 
“I didn’t expect anything. I didn’t know she was alive.” Alright, I felt like a broken record player, repeating the same thing over and over, but I wanted to make sure I was blamed for anything. I wanted an excuse. 
“You know she cried when Grandma told her that she was going to hire you.” Kate had dimmed most of the lights. She was sitting at the counter with a couple of books in front of her, doing some bookwork type of stuff. 
“She told me once her one last wish is to be reunited with her family. She wants to tell each one of her granddaughters not to make the same mistakes she did. She just feels unworthy to contact you.” 
The reasoning was lost on me, but I figured it made sense to some people. 
“She feels guilty.” 
“Oh.” That did make sense. She had really messed up in life, and I had suffered for it, a lot of people had. But it wasn’t like she had killed us or anything. Maybe it was her frail state, but I felt rather inclined to comfort her and try and make her feel better. 

2 thoughts on “Update On Writing // Where Dandelions Grow Part 8

  1. Aubrey says:

    those are awesome questions.a few of them apply to music as well. and life.
    why do you make yourself get out of bed every morning? what is your burning desire behind your life? 😉


  2. Bailey B. says:

    Aidyl, in response to your comment on my blog; we don't really know what happened. She just went to sleep one night and then didn't wake up the next morning. If you read Hebrews 11:1-5, we believe that her time here on earth was just done and she had done everything the Lord had intended for her to do, and he took her to be with him. Though that is comforting, we still miss her more than anything. She changed so many lives- even mine. Thank you for your concern.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s