First Light

Sunrise in Centerburg, Ohio.

I slept in today; the dogs did not go outside until almost 6:30 a.m. Most mornings we are out by four. At four, it is still too dark to see without turning on the porch light, but if it is clear we get amazing views of the stars. I don't think the dogs notice, however. The sounds of insects surround us, so it is not quiet, but still. The only birds active at four are the barn swallows skittering across the yard, hunting.

At six-thirty, the sun is up and the songbirds are going mad with joy for the new day. A rooster crows in the distance. The insects are still there but muted as the songbirds dominate. Definitely not quiet now, but still a sense of stillness. Or maybe a sense of expectation. The day is beginning and everything is aware.

I've mentioned before that my novels begin as a single, recurring image or scene playing in my head. I have no clue how many times something generates in my mind, and I think that could be interesting and then it's gone, never to return. How many books have I lost? But the ones that come again and again eventually breakthrough. I thought I would explore the vision behind Love: a novel of grief & desire.

This was a little scene that played over and over, of two people talking. There was no sound, so I never knew what they were discussing. They were in a hospital, in a patient room. The woman was using a wheelchair. I knew she had done something terrible, but I had no idea what she had done. The man was standing. Whatever she had done had impacted him. Again, I had no idea what it was. I did not know if they were family, friends or strangers, and I did not know why they were talking.

The woman said something funny. Not a joke, but in response to something the man had said to her. The one clear thing I had from this scene is that whatever she said, he laughed. That laughter was a betrayal of his deep hurt, but it also made him think they were not that different. I got one clear thought from him. What if I like her? The thought devestated him.

That scene is nowhere in the novel, not even as back story. But it is the novel. What would you do if you discovered that you liked--or at least understood--someone who had done an irreparable harm to you? Not what would you do if someone you liked harmed you, but the opposite. What if someone you never met hurt you deeply, but you found their humanity? What would you do? How would it change you?

As an adult child of an alcoholic, from a family of generational alcoholics, I'm drawn to broken people. Andie Love is the epitome of a broken person, but she is not the only one. Love is a novel of broken, traumatized people. (Author's Note: we're all broken, to some degree or another; some of us just hide it better than the rest.) I've come to realize that broken people often turn to other broken people for support, validation, and love. Sometimes that ends in disaster, sometimes people find a way to heal each other. Read Love to explore those themes more fully.

We cannot abide cruelty, so don't. Support someone who is struggling. The Red Cross has issued a nationwide blood emergency. Our national stock of blood is as low as it has been in years. Donate. It takes less than an hour and one donation can save up to three lives. It is a way to tithe to humanity. And you get free snacks. The snacks are also guilt-free because your body needs to begin restoring the blood that you just gave away and that process requires, Oreos or pretzels or cheese crackers. So, no shame!

To learn more about my novels or read past blogs, go to www.jeffersonblackburnsmith.com

Win a free Kindle edition of Love: a novel of grief and desire: I work with Reader's Favorite on the Kindle book giveaway. Go to https://readersfavorite.com/book-giveaway/love/1 to sign up for the monthly giveaway. You can scroll through the list of giveaways (over 500 each month) or sort the list by title or author to find Love: a novel of grief and desire and put your name in for this month's drawing. Good luck!