My biggest fan ...

or my second biggest.

I love this photo.

It’s my husband reading an early author’s copy of my debut novel.

He’s not a reader. He’s never read for pleasure. He hadn’t read any part of my book before it was published. (He was, however, consulted on law enforcement procedures for my book since he’s a retired cop.)

But once I stopped editing it to death and published the thing, he couldn’t wait to read it. He spent several mornings reading a few chapters at a time. In the end, when he finished, he gave me a big hug and told me he loved it. Whew! His opinion meant a lot. His pride in my accomplishment was worth the years-long struggle.

He’s a big fan, but he’s not my biggest fan.

My mom is.

After reading the first awful draft of my novel, she pestered me for years to keep going … to get the book published. She read every draft of it. She encouraged me when I floated scenes and ideas to improve The Grace Writers and cheered me on. She told me over and over, “You’re a good writer.” My response was always, “You’re my mom. Your opinion is unreliable.” (I’m not wrong.) She’s told me since I was eleven that I was a good writer. I didn’t know at the time that moms are biased.

But the thing she said—the push that made The Grace Writers cross the finish line was, “Publish your book before I die!”

Oh, mom ….

So, when it became clear that my book would finally be published, I dedicated it to her. She is the reason I followed through on my dream of writing a novel.

I’m glad she said it. I did think about the brevity of life. I did want to publish it before she died. Thank the Lord, she’s held the book in her hands … and uttered the words, “When are you finishing the sequel? I hope it’s published before I die.”

I’m workin’ on it.