This book started in a hotel room in Denver, Colorado, in 2006. I had just been told by my agent that I needed to begin a new series right away. I had no idea what to write. Dejected, I sat on the bed and muttered a prayer. What on earth was I going to write?
In the back of my mind, in a way that only novelists can understand, a man began talking. He was the Scribe. I listened and realized this was my story. It wasn’t until I returned home and began researching angels that I realized there really is a scribe angel mentioned in Scripture. I was mesmerized!
The study of angels is fascinating: They’re sent to minister to us, they’re often terrifying to see, and they’re eternal beings. They know your history better than any genealogist. I’ve never seen an angel, though I frequently beg God for the chance. Honestly, I wonder if He’s protecting me, because I already “hear voices” when I write, so to see angels might make me seem certifiably crazy. I have had some unusual experiences, like many of you, however.
One lazy afternoon, before I had children, I was napping on the couch. I woke but did not move. I heard men’s voices, deep and soft, and as I listened, I could not understand what they were saying. Of course, I reasoned, it was the TV. I must have left it on when I fell asleep. So I stirred to turn it off, and the voices snapped to a stop.
The TV was not on.
I’ve always wondered if I heard angels talking that day.
I don’t dwell too much on thoughts of the supernatural, though. I have enough trouble in the world I can see. But there are moments when I am aware of a world overshadowing ours. While working on this book, my family began to have the strangest experiences of our lives: family members having the same nightmare at the precise same moment in the bleak hours of the night, startled awake by our dogs who were howling in response to something no one else could see or hear. (I used these nightmares in Anne’s dream of a menacing black bridge.) We had children complaining of nighttime shadowy visitors who wanted to communicate with them. I heard a voice speaking to me one morning, too, and thinking it to be my husband, I turned and saw I was alone. At least, I hoped I was! (For the record, a little holy anointing oil on the doorframes and a mother’s finger-wagging prayer works wonders.) I don’t understand any of it, but as I dig into book two of this series, and continue to read the Bible from cover to cover and back again, perhaps I’ll grow in my faith enough to understand.
One thing I do know right now: to write well requires pausing. Reading, too, is a pause. In these rich, still moments, the Spirit of God, who permeates the world around us, breaks through the chaos and creates something new in our hearts. It takes great effort to pause. I am learning to do it more often. Thank you for taking time to pause with me. I hope God did something new in your heart, not because of my words, but because you were still and listening for Him in these pages.
That’s why I write. To pursue truth and change, to empower women and stir up hope. For the next two novels in this Scribe series, I will be telling you the stories of the most important women in history and the angels who guarded them. They won’t all be famous women, but their lives and deaths bought for us the opportunities we have today. We’ll walk with them through the most turbulent times in medieval history (and indeed, world history) and we’ll stand ready for the future.
Grace to you all,
Ginger