On Writing The Aftertime

I despise it when my own logic is used against me. I especially detest it when the person using my words to prove their point is one of my children. That’s how I started on this road to getting my book published. I was preaching to my youngest son, Atticus, about how he should travel whenever he got the opportunity. 

I proceeded with the typical parental speech like follow your dreams… don’t be afraid… blah blah blah. We were in my study; he became quiet and looked around for a moment. I had boxes of stories, books, poems, essays that I have written over the years stored in cabinets and files scattered around. Notebooks filled with half written story ideas that I had scribbled down while I was waiting for the kids’ practice to finish up. There were scraps of paper with lines of a poem or the outline for a book idea that had been jotted down while on hold with the insurance company. Some of the books that I had finished still waiting to be printed off as they lay waiting in my computer’s brain. 

“What are you waiting for?” he asked. He looked around at my boxes and files, then back to me. I threw my hands up as if to wave him off and back to the subject of him. It did not work. “Seriously, what are you afraid of? What’s the worst that could happen?” he continued. 

“REJECTION!” I half laughed and half screamed back at him. He made that face of I-love-you-but-you’re-an-idiot. After a minute I told him that I didn’t know if I could take any more failure in my life. But it was more than that. It was the rejection. I have been rejected and failed at things in my life, everyone has. It’s how you grow as a person and a writer. But it was deeper than that. 

I grew up poor in rural North Carolina. Poor is a relative term. It was more like “feast or famine” in my home. My family lived in a trailer. Although my mother made it feel warm and beautiful on the inside, people judged us from the outside, from the rural route that passed in front. It didn’t help that my father was an alcoholic and as such had many public scenes at my school and around the county. All of these things combined brought on a level of bullying from my peers that, to this day, I am not sure how I survived. 

Because of this, I would pretend to do homework during lunch so as not to bring attention to myself sitting alone. In reality, I was writing. It helped with the bullying that I had to endure. This form of therapy was something that continued far past my childhood. 

When Atticus was around seven years old, he asked me, “What if you had a weapon that could heal if it was never used in anger?” I remember looking at him, unable to answer. With my past, would I be able to show restraint and offer grace, instead of retribution?  That question started me on the journey to writing my book, The Aftertime. 

In The Aftertime, the weapon is a knife that is passed down from the 1700’s to present day. The weapon, however, takes on many forms in the book such as words and bullying.  These themes of maltreatment, loneliness, and what family means are found throughout. 

We see it today, how societies’ newfound anonymity has weaponized words and brought bullying to a level of modern warfare. It was because of this, I never joined social media before this book, nor did I really try to have anything published. I tried here and there through the years but was very half-hearted about it. For me, the rejection letter was a reminder that I wasn’t accepted.

What I didn’t realize, until much later in life, was that I wasn’t being rejected, my work was. Back then, for me, the two were the same. So much of my past emotions and life experiences were entwined in my writing that a rejection letter was a stranger telling me, “You are not good enough.” 

Some anonymous person in the world telling me my thoughts and my narratives weren’t valid. I think that is why I have always told my children that whatever their dreams are, I would do what I could to help them. I would always be their biggest cheerleader throughout their lives.  

So, it was wonderful when the time, my time, came and my children became my biggest cheerleaders. The rejections I may get do not define my voice. The rejection is defining the stranger who does not understand what I am trying to say. Maybe I wasn’t clear enough or the story wasn’t strong enough for them. That’s okay because someone out there is waiting to hear my words. 

After that day when Atticus asked me why I wasn’t trying to get my book published, I started thinking about fear. When we die do we leave our fear to our loved ones, like the good china and bank accounts? If I left tomorrow, instead of leaving my children and grandchildren the hope of possibilities, would I leave them my self-doubt and anxiety? When cleaning my house would they be the ones to go through boxes of stories that had been only known to me? Would they then start growing the seed of fear that would overtake their lives like kudzu strangling out any confidence and faith they may have?

I have decided that I will not leave them boxes of unread ideas and possibilities. I will leave them one box and in it will be this article. It will simply read, “I stopped waiting. I am no longer afraid of your rejection. Here is my voice and this is what I have to say.” 

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About the Author:

For years, LLH Harms has written books, stories, and poems and simply placed them on a shelf. With encouragement from one of her children, she has finally decided to share her writing with all of us. The Aftertime (Brandylane, August 13, 2024) is her debut novel. A second project, a picture book, is forthcoming. She lives in Virginia with her family. Find her on Instagram and Facebook at @llhharms

THE AFTERTIME

What if you had a weapon, a knife that had the power to heal, as long as it was never used in anger? What if this knife had been handed down for generations in your family, but because of you, it has now been taken? What if you were only 12 years old?

Our story begins in Virginia in the mid-1700s—when English settlers in Virginia claimed native Monacan land as their right—and brings us into the 21st Century. This is a story that spans generations and timelines yet begins with the simple friendship between two boys: one Monacan and the other English.

The Aftertime asks what is worth fighting for, and how to fight for it. Most importantly, it’s a story about following your moral compass and standing up, sometimes all alone, for what is just.

“It’s getting increasingly difficult to find good new literature for [middle-grade] that focuses on character, decision making, and growing up while still being interesting and action-oriented. This book does all of those things… plus it features some history lessons, including a lesser known Revolutionary War battle and a Native American tribe that isn’t usually talked about in school…. Overall, excellent!”
—Yvie Field, Educator, Homeschool on the Range, 5 out of 5 Stars

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Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing