One of the points Jerry Jenkins has strongly made is the need for Ferocious Self-Editing. This basically involves shredding your manuscript, using it to start your fireplace and going into another line of work, like a Caller at Bingo or something. Not really. He took some poor, benighted soul's first page of a novel and reworked it down from 150 words to some 50. It definitely was enlightening and helpful. One has to be thick-skinned and tenacious to be a writer. Learn proper grammar and punctuation, for heaven's sake (do people on F.B. ever self-edit their postings?)
So here's another snippet from my rough-draft of memoir:
It was all in the category of normal missionary
adjustments, with its ups and downs, frustrations, and adventure. Then May 18,
1947 dawned—the muggy, tropical heat already rising in waves—and with it, an
encroaching event by which life was measured before and after. Dad and Mom were
up, preparing for the day, which mostly involved language study at this point.
Neither of them had any premonitions of what was about to take place…
A doctor came and after checking my reflexes,
chest, and back, he told them that all indications pointed to polio. He said
they must immediately take me to the Catholic hospital in Makassar, where there
was a Chinese pediatric specialist.
....to be continued. Maybe.
Very well written. I think growing up with your condition just being part of normal life, I never considered the power of the experience until reading Grandpa's story. Now, as a new parent, I relate even more to the horror that Grandpa and Grandma lived when their toddler girl fell ill with this horrible disease. I think every follower of Christ, at some point in his or her walk, must face at least one Gethsemane. And a parent dies a thousand deaths for every tragedy that strikes our children.
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