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The rewards of writing . . . And the Whippoorwill Sang
While writing the book was something I had sworn to do as a promise to the one I lost, it was both blessing and bane. There were times when I laughed and times when I cried—just like my readers. As some of you know, many supernatural events happened as I finished the book. Parts of the book seemed written by someone other than me and while I was happy and relieved to finally write, ‘The end’, that was also painful. I had brought my daughter back to life while writing of her funny, wonderful life and in ending it; I lost her, yet again.
Now that I have marketed and sold the book for the past six months, I’ve been blessed with remarkable happenings. I knew the book would both entertain and move many people, but I had no idea to what extent. I have been pleased and amazed by the amount of letters, e-mails, and phone calls I get from readers. This book has been able to ease their pain, promise them hope, and comfort them in their own trials. I never saw that coming and it contines to astound me.
I have boys, aged fifteen and up, to older men at eighty-six reading the book and finding something in it for them. I had imagined my audience would be strictly women with children, but that has not been the case. Teachers and librarians from her High School write me with their own remembrances of her, as well as her classmates and friends. Many, after reading the book go to her gravesite and leave flowers. Some of them e-mail with stories and experiences with Noelle that I never knew, and for that I am grateful. Again, I am overcome by these things. Some, having known her long ago, are torn between wanting to read the book and afraid to trust their emotions. What was started as a promise has become a fulfillment far beyond my wildest expectations. I could ask nothing greater than to have this book make a difference in the lives of those who read it. Knowing that some who read this book may become more aware of the dangers of drinking and driving, and more importantly, realize that life is made up of choices—choices which dictate life and death—inspires me to want to write more books. Having teenagers read the book is another blessing, as they realize that teenagers from 1959 to today are basically the same. I pray that they will, with help from this book, stop and take responsibily for the both their safety and the lives of others. As proud and humbled as I am from the reaction to . . . AND THE WHIPPOORWILL SANG, I believe that somewhere in another realm, Noelle is smiling.