Serendipity

Or, “Writing Isn’t Really Solitary”. Or, “What Made the Rambler Cry”.

As some of you may know, in January of this year (2012), I got a contract to write a book for Annie’s Attic Mystery series, all thanks to my friend K.D. McCrite, who also writes for the series. She introduced me to her editors and helped me with the proposal. (She also recently answered The Questions.)

In March, she went with me to the coast of Georgia for a sabbatical, a chance for us both to get away from things and write. My book, A Spicy Secret, is #22 in the series. Her book, A Stony Point Christmas, is #21. We sat together in a room with lots of windows, watching birds and other critters, and wrote. When one of us got stuck, or couldn’t remember something about a character, we’d chat about it. When I wanted the characters in my book to eat pizza, she added a pizza joint to her story, and we decided to name the place Sal’s Pizzeria, after a delicious restaurant on nearby St. Simons Island. (And Sal said we could!)

K.D. writes for Christian Fiction Online Magazine, and for her May column, she wrote about Serendipity. (And for the record, I’m the friend she’s talking about.) She gave me permission to share it.

SERENDIPITY

by K.D. McCrite

It’s a rather long word that sounds special. And it is. Serendipity. The best definition I’ve found makes me smile: “the act of finding something valuable or delightful when you are not looking for it.” (www.WhatIs.com)

I experienced serendipity recently, and the results of that moment now gives me much pleasure.

A couple of months ago a friend of mine and I had lunch together in one of our favorite local restaurants. We talked about our writing projects, our pets, our homes, the weather, all those things people share over lunch. She had recently lost her job, and we talked a little about that, too.

At one point she said, “Now that I’m not working, I’m going down to Georgia and spend some time in our house down there.”

She went on to explain how difficult it has been for her and her husband to spend time in their second home when both of them had such demanding jobs, and how she felt the house really needed to be lived in for a while.

“Of course, I’ll be down there all by myself for at least month,” she sighed, “and I don’t like being alone for that length of time.”

“Then take me with you!” I blurted in the heat of excitement. I never really expected her quick response.

She blinked as though surprised, then said with a big smile, “OK!”

We talked it over with our respective spouses, and lucky for us, those two wonderful men supported our idea. They understood how important it was for us to concentrate on our writing projects and this trip away from the daily distractions and responsibilities of home would help us immensely.

Surrounded by gorgeous old oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, the house my friend owns is in an older neighborhood on a very quiet street, near a lovely natural park. The beach is a ten minute drive away. We have no television here, and no telephone except for the cell phones we brought with us. Down here, our family responsibilities are on hold until we return. The room in which we write has many floor to ceiling windows, some of them overlooking a salt-water pond. (How lovely to watch cranes and pelicans come and go there!) Trips to the beach take us to a place for long walks on white sand with hardly anyone else around.

My literary agency is nearby, and for the first time I was able to meet my agent face-to-face. It was like meeting a familiar old friend because we’ve worked so closely together online and over the telephone. The president of the agency threw a dinner party, and my friend had the opportunity to meet these marvelous people who work so hard to help us writers share our gifts with the rest of the world.

A writer could hardly ask for anything better than a quiet house, in a gorgeous setting, with a good friend of similar mind and goals.

What if my friend and I had not met that day for lunch? What if I had not blurted out, “Take me with you!”

Serendipity. The right place at the right time. Good luck. Whatever you wish to call it, there is no denying God’s grace surrounds us daily, and it’s up to us to recognize opportunity when it presents itself, and then, of course, to move on it.

Isn’t that lovely? But the story doesn’t end there!

Last Thursday, I got my copy of A Stony Point Christmas. (A perk of being an author for the series is you get copies of all the books.)

I opened the box. (Isn’t it nice?!)

I looked at the cover. Doesn’t it put you in the spirit?

I read the inside front cover….

…then the inside back cover.

…then flipped through the pages. (Yes, these very nice hardback books include a lovely ribbon bookmark.)

And then, as I do with most every book I pick up (don’t ask
me why), I looked at the last page.

Then I posted a comment on K.D.’s facebook wall: “Got my copy of A Stony Point Christmas today. That means my book is next. Squeee!”

She responded: “Squeeeee! indeed.” and “Did you gaze at the dedication page?”

I had not. Despite my excitement at holding her book in my hand, a book I’d helped birth, so to speak, and despite everything else I’d looked at, I’d skipped the dedication page.

So I ran downstairs, grabbed the book, and saw this:

That’s right. That’s my very own name on the dedication page of a real-live book! Squeee! And tears!

Color me surprised. I had absolutely no idea K.D. was dedicating the book to me. No. Idea. Can you believe she kept that secret for all these months?!?! Serendipity, indeed.