Life has not worked out as I planned. I’d hoped by now to have my memoir: Farming Grace, ready for you to read having gone the traditional route of publishing.

Last January, I signed with a literary agent, and then life hit hard. 2015 was a year of just surviving. That little deal I’d made with my husband didn’t even cross my mind until summer, around the time I realized we needed to get moving with my memoir. So I drove north for a day, with three boxes of peaches, and met with my literary agent. Like me, she was knee deep in hard. Just hard. I explained I’d made a silly deal with my husband. We had a year to go the traditional route of publishing, and if that didn’t pan out, Scott was going to put my book on Amazon come 2016.

Gulp.

And then I drove the six hours home, I-5 all the way, and hard kept happening for both of us. Now January 2016 is here and my manuscript is still untouched by traditional editors. Scott pointed this out to me on New Years Day. We got into an argument about it.

“How long are you going to do it your way, Paula?” Scott asked as I sat in my chair and cried. I wanted to answer “as long as it takes to get my manuscript read by traditional publishers,” but I didn’t say this. Because I knew I was out of God’s will. I wasn’t obeying my husband so I cried some more.

Why is obeying a husband so hard?

I think maybe that Enjoli perfume commercial from my childhood messed me up. You know, “I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never never never let you forget you’re a man, because I’m a woman, Enjoli!” I grew up on that commercial. I loved it. It filled me with the confidence that I could do it myself. I didn’t need a man’s help. My life was my own. I was a strong, independent woman. Bla bla bla bla bla.

Then I got married, promising to obey my husband, but I didn’t mean it at the time. I only made the vow to obey Scott in church before God and about three hundred people because Father O’Leary, with his Irish brogue, refused to marry us unless I said, “I’ll obey.”

It’s taken nearly 27 years for me to learn how to obey my husband, and I still fall flat on my face from time to time. Especially with something near and dear to my heart, like my writing.

Though I’ve tried to make my writing about grander things like God and humanity, and God. Did I say, “God?” Often my writing flies right back in my face like a boomerang hitting me between the eyes.

I tend to write my angst. My battles. The problems that besiege this little old human being me. I write to figure this stuff out, kind of like calculating math on a piece of paper, though I’ve always been terrible at math.

But I’ve realized while blogging these past five years that my writing has become about you. I love you guys who follow my blog. In the south they say, “ya all.” Out here in California we say, “you guys.” You guys are my “lean in” circle. The friends I do life with. The friends I tell probably more than I should here on this blog. I deeply appreciate that you continue to read my posts week after week.

Somewhere along the line my writing has become about you, as well as me, as well as God. When I blog, I think about you. I ask myself, “Can this post help someone out there? Or make them laugh? Or make them cry? Or make them think about God?” I pray this as I write.

So when I sat down and really thought about putting my memoir on Amazon this year, I realized this might be okay. You guys make it okay. Because it’s you guys who will probably read it.

I’ve come to the realization that you guys help me not feel alone in this world. I hope I help you not feel alone in this world, too. You help me get through my battles. I hope I help you through your battles, too. Mostly I hope I help you think about God. Because we all need to think about God while we’re here on this little blue planet.

Some of the things that have been holding me back with going Amazon are working with a really good editor, having a great book cover, and just being a part of the “in crowd.”

The “in crowd” being traditionally published writers. When I really thought this through, I realized you guys probably don’t care about these things. If my book isn’t perfect you probably won’t mind much. You wade through my raw posts each week forgiving me for the rawness here, so hopefully you would forgive a raw book.

And I took a shot at designing my own book cover using a photo of West Butte Orchards abloom last February, and would love to know what you think about this cover. I pulled it together on Picmonkey. A free photoshop site. But my guess is the book cover isn’t all that important to you, either. And being in the “in crowd” has never been my thing anyway.

I decided in high school it took way too much energy to hang with the “in crowd” so the library captured my loyalty. I know several books I met at the library that are still my best friends. Don’t get me wrong, I love the “in crowd” and I love the “wallies” and the kids who hung out in “cowboy” too.

I graduated Yuba City High School in the 1980’s. It wasn’t a small school even then, and I had friends from every corner of the campus. The quad, the wall, the back parking lot where the cowboys sat on the tailgates of their pickup trucks. And of course the library with its straight A students.

I wasn’t straight A, math was always my B, but I still love libraries. And bookstores. And book mobiles. I love books. When I was little, a book mobile came to our little country school like once a month or something. It always felt like I was boarding a grand ship such as the Titanic when I stepped onto that bus full of books. A good book can sink me. Or make me swim. Or make me fly. Aren’t good books about how they make us feel? How they change what we believe or don’t believe?

I’m not sure what this blog is really about today. I guess it’s about sharing my angst with you. Telling you that I’m scared to go Amazon. Scared to write without traditional editors shining up my writing. Without design teams creating covers for my books. Without the “in crowd” welcoming me with open arms into traditional publishing.

Or maybe not welcoming me with open arms. I’ve learned some writers aren’t all that friendly to other writers. I understand why. Some writers are plain weird. Just ask my husband. When he went to a writers’ conference with me years ago, he said, “Okay, now I get it. You’re all freaks.”

So please tell me what you think of the book cover I created for Farming Grace. Thanks so much for sharing what you think. I look forward to your comments and emails dear friends.

And for a walk down memory lane, I’ve attached that Enjoli commercial. When I watch it, I feel about twelve years old again, all freckles and hormones and surprising confidence in becoming a woman. I thought becoming a woman meant doing it all.

Today, I’m just happy to get the laundry done. So the joke’s on me.