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by Eva Marie Everson @EversonAuthor
I sort of slipped into this industry. I suppose one could say I saw an open door and I walked through it. That much would be true. But really, I slipped in through the back door.
In the late 1990s I belonged to a megachurch in the Orlando area. Every weekend, seven services. Every weekend lots and lots of people. There were ministries and small groups for nearly everyone imaginable, including ballroom dancing and sign language. About this time, I joined the drama ministry. We met every Tuesday night and were directed by a New York actor named Tim (last name withheld). Tim was brilliant. And fun. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the group, which often performed sketches for the services.
One of the members of the troupe—we’ll call her Laura—approached me one evening during rehearsals, “Eva Marie, there’s a call for a writer for the children’s ministry. You should try out for that.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you have a gift for writing.”
Well . . . I did and I had always known that. But who had told Laura?
Sometimes Whims Arrive on the Lightest Breeze
Laura’s suggestion was so matter-of-fact, I almost discarded it. But then, on a whim, I decided to “try out” for the part of Children’s Ministry Writer, which required writing a new weekly sketch for the ministry team of actors.
I got the job. Each week, I wrote a sketch according to the director’s requirements. I sent it to him, he sent it back with edits, I rewrote, and voila! About a year went by when Laura approached me again. “A writers group is started here at the church. You should join.” She gave me the when and where and I penciled the date and time in on my calendar.
Long story short, unbeknownst to me, as five of us writerly people sat around a dining room table in Winter Springs, Florida . . . Word Weavers International was born (but becoming an international nonprofit was down the road a bit).
I had begun working on what would become my first novel. Soon I realized that front doors were closed to unknown novelists. But . . . back doors . . . ah. They were open. So, I wrote devotions for an online site, articles for an online ezine, and book reviews for Christian Retailing magazine.
One of those reviews was for a little-known writer named Jerry B. Jenkins. (Yes. I’m kidding. Everyone and his brother knew who Jerry B. Jenkins was (and is). His Left Behind books (cowritten with Tim LaHaye) lined the front shelves of every bookstore in the country. Possibly in most countries.)
Mr. Jenkins had written a book, Rookie, which was about a young baseball player with phenomenal skills. As one member of a baseball-loving family, I wrote my review using the sport’s terminology. Turned out, Mr. Jenkins liked the review enough that he inquired at the magazine, asking if he could email me a “thank you.”
Christian Retailing asked for permission to give him my email address. (Well, that was nice . . .)
As it turned out, I had met Mr. Jenkins previously. By that time, I had spoken at several Christian writing conferences—one where he was keynoting the Saturday night banquet. That afternoon, I went into the faculty “green room” for a snack and . . . there he sat. He, his agent, and his lovely wife.
Ohmygoodness. That’s Jerry B. Jenkins, author of the Left Behind series. Whatever you do, EM, don’t panic. Or giggle. Or faint.
I decided to bravely walk over to where he sat and introduce myself. But . . . wait . . . I wanted to make an impression. A memorable, unforgettable impression. I squared my shoulders, walked over to him, extended my hand for a shake, and said, “Hello, Jerry B. Jenkins. My name is Eva Marie Everson. You don’t know me, but you will.”
He laughed as his hand pumped mine. “Oh, I will?”
“Yes. You will.”
And then I left the room . . . and prayed for death.
When Death Didn’t Come
Now, here I sat at my office desk, reading a “thank you” email from Jerry B. Jenkins. Of course, I wrote him back. My email held a question, which he answered. Back and forth we went. Question asked. Question answered . . . until I dared send this message: Do you remember meeting someone at a writers conference who said you didn’t know her . . . but you would?
“Was that you?”
I admitted that it was. Then I boldly asked another question. “I understand that to be a mentor at the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild, one must first be asked by Mr. Jerry B. Jenkins.”
“This is true,” he wrote back.
“So,” I replied. “When are you going to ask me?”
Which is how I became a mentor for the JBJCWG.
This was a bold step (one I don’t necessarily suggest), but it had come after many tiny steps through several back doors. By this point, my first books were published, but I continued to write for smaller publications—ezines, online devotion sites, and book reviews. The small steps served me well. I now worked for and with one of the biggest dogs in the industry. And that dog taught me a lot . . . about the industry . . . about craft . . . and about humility.
One day a well-known novelist who was a longtime friend of Jerry’s said to me, “The Jerry before the Left Behind phenomena is the same Jerry you’ll meet today. Humble through and through.”
Years later, Jerry shared something with me. “Left Behind wasn’t even close to my first work. It was my 125th book. My first NY Times bestseller was my 75th book, which was a work of nonfiction.”
Yes. Humble beginnings . . .
“If you are faithful in little things,” Jesus said, “you will be faithful in large ones” (Luke 16:10 NLT).
TWEETABLE
You are the inspiration I didn’t realize I was looking for today. Thank you. God bless.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great story, Eva Marie. I'm a believer in small beginnings and never despise them, even though the dreams are big.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this interesting and timely encouragement I needed so much.
ReplyDeleteEva Marie, I love you so much for the encouragement you steadfastly offer us and this peek into your humble beginnings.
ReplyDelete