It’s launch week and I woke up this morning thinking about the time my grandpa, “Pops,” as we called him, launched his boat without the plug in. We were going fishing, my grandpa, my brother Patrick, and me, and as we headed out into the river, the boat began to sink. “Grab a bucket and get that water out of the boat,” Pops yelled as he turned the boat back to shore. My brother and I bailed like crazy until we were safe on land where Pops put the plug in the boat.

On another fishing trip, Pops told my brother to toss out the anchor so we could fish. Patrick grabbed the anchor and threw it out into the river. Pops lost his mind. There was no rope tied to the anchor yet. So much for that expensive anchor.

The last time Pops took me fishing, after hours in the boat, I really had to pee. I was in junior high and not about to use the bucket like the boys. I convinced Pops to take me to shore and I walked into a thicket of brush and did my business. A week later, I thought I might die. Poison Oak and Chicken pox hit me at the same time. My grandparents had to take care of me because my mom worked at the hospital. “I am never taking her fishing again,” Pops said as I lie on his couch burning with fever, looking like I had the plague. And he never did. From then on, the only time I got to go fishing on the river was if my dad took me. Daddy rarely had time to go fishing when I was a kid.

I sure hope my book launch doesn’t turn out like all those boat launches when I was young. The universe just seemed against me when it came to fishing with my grandpa. My novel writing has been much the same way. Many times, I’ve been close to getting a book published, and then it all falls apart. Like throwing an anchor into the river without the rope. I’m still not sure why Pops decided that was my fault, except he believed girls on the river were bad luck, and I couldn’t argue with him after things kept going wrong with me there.

So many times, I’ve wanted to give up on writing novels. A little troll lives in my head telling me how stupid my writing is, “Really, you think this is any good?” the troll sneers. “This is stupid! People are going to realize how stupid you are when they read this! They also are going to see you! Really see you!”

A novel is a window into a writer’s heart. Sure, writers have big imaginations and they are making up stories, but there’s a reason they are making up these stories. The writer is working something out. Something they question. Something they fear. Maybe something they love that’s wounded them.

I just finished an author interview with my dear friend KJ. She is featuring me on her blog: katherinescottjones.com  Mother’s Day weekend. One of her questions threw me for a loop. “Why do you tackle racial issues in your story?” Not her exact question, but pretty close.

I didn’t realize racial issues was a theme in my book. Growing anxious, I sat there wondering how to answer KJ’s question. Honestly, it hurt to answer that question. My family comes in all colors: black, brown, golden, fair and freckled like me. Both Scott and I have some Indian blood in us. You can’t see the Cherokee in me, I live in sunscreen, but we call our daughter, Lacy, our little Apache girl. She has beautiful golden skin that tans like crazy. In 1846, the setting of my novel, women were sometimes forced into sexual slavery because of their skin color. Indians were treated like slaves, and many were killed simply because they were Indians.

Racial tension is a funny thing, often born out of our childhood upbringing or out of war. My pops was prejudice against the Japanese. At a friend’s wedding, when I was about 15, I danced with a Japanese boy. Pops went through the roof and wanted to drag me out of that wedding. “The Japs bombed us!” Pops said in livid anger. WWII was painful for my pops.

Even now, this puts a lump in my throat. I wish we could all just be human beings together. Horses come in different colors and nobody thinks a thing about it. But nations rise up against nations because of prejudice. My feelings about racial tension came out in my novel, and I wasn’t even aware of it.

Perhaps this is why wading into publishing my novels frightens me. I’ve always thought I could hide in fiction, but my first author interview revealed there’s no hiding. Whoever reads my books will know me better. I’m not sure I’m ready to be known in a deeper way.

But ready or not, it looks like Until the Day Breaks will be on Amazon by May 7th. And if you’re wondering why I’ve chosen the pen name: Paula Scott, it’s because I’ll be publishing my memoir under my real name hopefully later this year. An editor told me if I want to write in multiple genres, I need to use different names. So I chose Paula Scott for my historical romances because Scott is my great romance. And we’ve gone Indie together. He’s my tech man, and boy do I need a tech man. I can hardly navigate word. 

Thanks for your prayers as I step into publishing on Amazon. I love you guys, and it’s so great to share how I’m really feeling with you. If racism has hurt you somewhere down the road, I’m praying for your healing. Heaven is filled with every tribe, every tongue, every color. We are all brothers and sisters up there. Let’s live like that down here.