The years teach much which the days never knew.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
This week, as I head to Maine, the setting for Snow Fence Road, it’s hard to believe a whole year has passed since it was published.
After years of writing nonfiction, I turned to novels when I realized how much I longed to explore what I believe are the primary needs of our times: healing and the increase of love. Stories are the best means I know to reveal the ways in which lives that grow more conscious about giving and receiving become pathways to an atmosphere in which peace can emerge.
When kind readers say that Snow Fence Road feels like an actual visit to small-town Maine, I’m grateful. As a once rootless military kid, I’ve found that place always becomes a living part of story, for me. I especially value small-town life, because it remains human-scale, which allows us to experience the kind of community that teaches us about the universe of our own heart.
I’m very grateful to Kerry McQuisten, my publisher at Black Lyon Publishing, for making room for a “romance” that’s so utterly unlike most of what is categorized that way today. It’s simply a love story about having to be human when, simultaneously, in reality, we are also so very much more.
A lot of current fiction focuses on current realities, with their resulting pain, savagery, horror, and incessant, insistent fear. Or, they dig into the past to continue mining these same things. So few, I find, look at the power and role of that much-avoided gift — our emotions — to offer us a path toward the kinder possibilities that are grounded in our truest strengths. I believe it is those very attributes that emanate from the God-given nobility in which we are created that hold all of the beauty and meaning that can exalt our lives. If we choose to value them.
Snow Fence Road aims at more emotional and spiritual themes because in the many wounded hearts I’ve encountered, no amount of physical attraction or infatuation ever healed or helped them, but the power of real love did. Real, lasting love requires accepting — and sharing — vulnerability, which I believe is the only human experience to which the term “intimacy” rightfully applies. Everything else strikes me as cheap, and rather desperate, imitation, fueled by our unwillingness to come to know and accept the gift of who we truly are, and the unanswered pain that results from how much we still long for it.
When people ask me now, “Why do you write?” I’ve found the answer in the same reason I get up each day: for the increase and advance of the one thing that lasts: the love that brings us home to our own hearts. It’s a process that began one morning a long time ago when I began to love and listen to people I will never meet, but who became as real for me as the pages on which their story is printed now.
Find more about Snow Fence Road at: https://phyllisedgerlyring.wordpress.com/make-a-beginning-and-all-will-come-right/