A Muzzle on my Mouth

My new book is out and ready at Amazon.com (http://tinyurl.com/7fgvm4l ).
I wanted the e-book to come out simultaneously, but am having some trouble figuring out how to do it. Having illustrated this book, I have entered a level of complexity into the e-book process that I haven't dealt with yet. If doing new things prevents Alzheimer's, then for sure, I am safe. But I have a long way to go in perfecting my e-book skill. The publisher wrote back and said it was ready to review the e-book, but noticed I had not mentioned who the author was.
oops.
In some ways, that would've been better, to leave the author out of it. I talk about a lot of family and friends in this new book. I changed the names of all but my family, in case the people I wrote about didn't want to become famous. And I never used last names. Then I gave every member of my family a chance to read the book before I published it, in case they wanted to disown me. But the point is, writing books is frightening. Any good writer of necessity draws upon her own experiences, perceptions, prejudices, and biases; particularly in works of non-fiction. It opens up a whole world of readers to despise her. But to be dishonest or inauthentic in baring one's soul makes for boring reading. I feel the need to write burning in my soul. If not physically writing, my mind is continually narrating events, either real or flights of imagination. I don't know if everyone does that. It occurred to me only recently that perhaps everyone does not. I write as unconsciously as I breathe, and have since keeping journals when I was old enough to form letters. There is something very basic to what I am that yearns to express itself in written or artistic form.
I love what David of the Bible says when he stops speaking the Word of God. He holds his tongue for fear of sinning. As a result, he is filled with anguish in his soul. While believe me, I am not saying that I am on par with David, I do share his feeling when he squelches his outpourings to His heavenly Father. I think we are created for a purpose, and it is only by neglect, sin, or force that that purpose will not emerge. I think a great deal of damage on earth is done by thinking my purpose is identical to your purpose, or that somehow my purpose is more worthy. I am guilty of this kind of thinking far too often.
Perhaps the greatest adventure in life is finding what we were born to do, and then doing it with delight. Some people discover what that is at a young age, and some never seem to quite figure it out, but everyone was put here on earth with a plan and a purpose.
Maybe I should just keep the author name out of it, I thought, as I reviewed the e-book parameters. That would be cowardly, my soul whispered.
Perhaps my purpose is to be cowardly...? ok, ok, I will sign the author page.

Psalm 39: 1-7
I said, "I will watch my ways
and keep my tongue from sin;
I will put a muzzle on my mouth
while in the presence of the wicked." So I remained utterly silent,
not even saying anything good.
But my anguish increased; my heart grew hot within me.
While I meditated, the fire burned;
then I spoke with my tongue: "Show me, Lord, my life's end
and the number of my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is. You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Everyone is but a breath,
even those who seem secure. "Surely everyone goes around like a mere phantom;
in vain they rush about, heaping up wealth
without knowing whose it will finally be. "But now, Lord, what do I look for?
My hope is in you.





-Everything is possible with God