Sneek Peek

It is official; I have begun work on writing a book. A memoir, to be exact. I have completed chapter one so far and expect to finish at least half of a rough manuscript by the end of the summer, under the guidance of a very supportive instructor. I am excited and more than a little nervous for this venture.

I don't know what, if anything, will come of this project but at this point I can only remain optimistic. Each one of you can help me greatly by kindly reading the small excerpts I will be posting here regularly and sharing these posts with your friends. The broader my readership, the greater my platform and, therefore, the better my chances of eventually publishing this memoir. Thank you all in advance, I appreciate the support.

Here is the first excerpt from chapter one, enjoy!
Thanks for reading,

Missie

In the Shadow of Blame

by Melissa (Lutz) Hart

Excerpt from chapter one: Everyone Was Hammer Dancing

                I watched as John, Mom, and Eric ate spaghetti, praying that they would take me to the hospital. I didn’t want to bleed forever and I wanted the pain to go away.

                As Mom cleaned up the dinner dishes, John took my hand away from my face and looked at my wound. My “boo-boo” he called it. The word sounded even more childish than usual coming from a muscle bound brick layer.

                “Pfft. You don’t need stitches,” he said. “God will heal you. We just need to pray about it.”

                He kneeled before me and placed one hand on my forehead and the other on my shoulder. I could see his eyeballs bulging beneath his lids as he sputtered  in tongues one minute and begged God to heal me in English the next.

                Later, as Mom came into my room to say goodnight, she sat on my bed and whispered to me.

                “I wish he would have just agreed to go to the hospital. Praying for a wound like that isn’t going to help anything,” she said.

                Who cared if he had agreed or not? Wasn’t she in control of what happened to her children? That was her famous claim, wasn’t it? That only she was in control of the decisions about her kids. So why the difference this time?

                Never one to keep my mouth shut when my opinion differed from my Mom’s, I asked as much.

                “Someday you will understand, Missy,” she said.

                No. No, I wouldn’t understand.