The Promise Part 1

“A book does not complete itself. There are hands upon it, a keen outlook and insight upon every page. Much like a photograph slowly developing; a book takes time, patience and love, to bring it to its full glory.”  ~ TL Alton

20 years ago, by a surging riverbed, a seed of love took root within.

Under the Sitka tree, began by writing the ending first and wound around a magnificent Sitka spruce tree, on the central coastline of British Columbia.

Never could I fathom, all that I would endure, in order to complete and seek publication.

Over the years, I pressed on towards the goal, intertwined with my faith journey.

I was inspired by J.R.R. Tolkien, who spent twelve years, to write Lord of the Rings. I was fascinated with all the breaks he took, which added onto the length of writing. In total, it took seventeen years. As with Tolkien, he never was truly done.

Another source of incredible motivation was Karen Hill. She devoted 20 years to writing her novel, Café Babanussa. When she passed unexpectedly, it was her brother, Canadian author Lawrence Hill who saw her book published. In 2016, I attended The Sunshine Coast Festival of the Written Arts, in Sechelt, BC. After hearing Lawrence Hill speak, I eagerly took my place in line to meet him. I had tucked under my arm, a book. The array of Canadian Literature written by Mr Hill, includes The Book of Negroes, The Illegal and Dear Sir, I Intend To Burn Your Book.
Once I approached, we shared in conversation. In presenting the novel I had purchased and wanted autographed, it was his sister's novel, Cafe Babanussa. I gravitated to her as a gifted author and someone whose journey with mental health, I can relate to. 
The threads of connection Karen and I shared, are the intricate complexities of Bipolar. 
In reading the story she penned, I felt at times my life, faded into hers. 
The comfort I found nestled in the pages of her writing, were like that of a familiar friend.

In writing Under the Sitka Tree, it was full of surprises. As the author, I could not help myself from tinkering, changing, and deleting. I first wrote it on the cusp of being diagnosed with Bipolar. Once I leveled out, I had the clarity that had once seemed unattainable. Going back into the pages of my book, was to unravel the threads of creative madness and extract the story, waiting to blossom.

My daughter, Shayla Rae Dawn, grew up watching the surges of mania and descents into depression. She was a fierce advocate for me and during the turbulent times of upheaval, Shayla encouraged my writing. My daughter was a fan, when I could not hold a pen or string the words together. She refused to give up on me or my novel. Once I stabilized in my life and re- learned my 'new normal' by society's standards, Shayla encouraged me to revisit my book; to edit with the purpose of completing it.

One day, she came to me and asked to read a few chapters. I wanted my book to be perfect. Therefore, she was given, only the first couple of pages. Afterwards, my daughter came to me with such emotion, I could tell the story line spoke to her soul. 

At my desk, she leaned over and looking into my eyes, she said: 

“Momma, you have to promise me, you will get your book finished and published.”

The intensity was on a deeper level and I replied: “I promise you Shayla, I will.”

Extending her hand towards mine, she curled her pinky finger. 

With a smile that melted hearts, she added: “Pinky promise.” 

I was overwhelmed with sentiment. Taking my pinky in hers, we locked our fingers together. As mother and daughter forged a vow, I gazed into her beautiful blue eyes and pledged my oath to her: “Pinky promise, babygirl.”  

Only a few years later - right before Christmas 2011, my beloved daughter and only child, was tragically killed in a car crash. 

In my immeasurable grief, I felt I could no longer write. My heart was fractured, as was gone the opportunity of Shayla to read, Under the Sitka Tree.

As time carried onward, I would recall the promise I had made. I began to take my pain and use the gift of creativity to rebuild. I became a leader in a faith- based bereavement course called “GriefShare” ~ which offers support to those, who have had a loved one, pass away. 
Connecting with others, helped me back on my writing journey.

I also discovered, the spark that was my daughter, had originated from me.

Returning to my novel, I found my writer’s voice and picked it up with a newfound passion. In taking moments of my life, I saw the purpose in releasing my remorse, the good along with the bad, onto the pages.

I learned the beauty in fiction writing; entwining what is real and what is not, into a story where readers will feel a part of it all.

I hired a professional editor, Liam Ford, who devoted his time to my book. Liam brought a fresh approach to what I had been writing- on and off- for two decades. He came alongside me as an author and helped oversee any changes. At times, I felt challenged by my own words. Yet, I could see the value of Liam’s skills, as he took me to what lay beneath the surface. His insight was essential and because of his editing, I developed better sentence structure and voice of each person. 
More importantly, I avoided instances of colorism and white privilege, as my editor showed me the use of a character's power over prejudice.

There was also a special moment, when after meeting with Liam, I agreed to acquire his services.

He leaned into me with his pinky. I had shared what transpired with my daughter and this sudden gesture, threw me off guard. As I held back the tears, Liam Ford offered me his pinky and as I linked mine with his, the gesture symbolizing the pinky promise, he smiled and said:

 “Let’s do it for Shayla.”

Liam Ford was more than an editor; he was the keeper of my words, to a story yearning to be told.

As I type, the emotions are surfacing…there is no way to ever convey to Liam, what his actions meant to me as a mother, who still grieves her best friend.

Later this year, as I returned to my book. I revisited yet again this magical place I twisted and formed around my characters. In doing so, I discovered the promise I made to Shayla... was unearthed in the forest containing a Sitka spruce tree.

All along, the rawness of my immeasurable loss, lay guarded in my world…waiting to be released, in the form of my novel.

It has taken me twenty years on this journey, to be brave enough to let go,  so as to keep a promise to my babygirl.

Under the Sitka Tree, is dedicated to Shayla Rae Dawn. An extraordinary young lady, who helped me find my heart light again ✟💛 In order to shine in a way, which is reflective of the Creator.

“A Promise is a Promise.”

by TL Alton 
 * Please check out the website for my novel, which has been updated with new quotes, a shorter version of 'The Promise' and new pictures. www.tlalton.com  
Liam Ford Wordsmith https://www.liamford.com/