A few months later I found it again and decided to read the first two chapters to my sisters and best friend, Robyn. When I was finished they all blinked and said, "that's all?"
"For now," I said, pointing to my growing baby belly.
The next several months, I felt a stirring, an urging to finish my book. After I gave birth to my daughter, things of course got much crazier. But I would still pull out my notebook and scribble a paragraph here and there. Sometimes I would wake up at 2am and unable to go back to sleep, I would feverishly type a few lines. I would pull out my laptop and edit a few pages in the car while I waited to pick up my son from school.
So it's almost ready, my little book. A story about a remarkable little boy and his amazing quest for Truth and Humanity. Several of the people who have helped me critique the book have had confusion about the age range, Toby is 12, so is it a book for middle grade children? There are dystopian elements and philosophical points, so is it a book for adults?
When I was a little girl, my mother read books to us every night. As a family, we built log cabins with Laura Ingalls Wilder, fought battles for Narnia and survived Nazi prison with Corrie Ten Boom. We read through many books probably written for adults, but with amazing stories my parents couldn't pass up. We probably didn't understand all the big words and concepts, but my mom would patiently explain them to us when they came up. In this way we learned vocabulary words and ideas earlier then many children.
So my book can be read by children (recommended for ages over 10) and adults, but my hope is that somewhere, somehow, families can turn the T.V. off, just for a few nights, sit down and read it together. Maybe the mom is the best storyteller, or the dad. Maybe everyone can take turns. This is my hope.