Sara Doesn't Like My Story
W ith me thinking more about Sara’s next book, I stopped by Ellen’s café. She wasn’t there. I found her by the river, watching a barge make its way downstream. She was sitting on the ground. I sat beside her. We sat like that for several minutes, neither of us saying a word, while the barge went past. Sara broke the silence. “I read your blog the other day—that post about what you’re going to do with the next book.” “I haven’t decided anything for sure,” I said. “I don’t like it.” “I didn’t expect you would,” I said. “If I had a better story, I would use it instead.” “It doesn’t fit with the other stories, you know.” She stared off at the distance bank on the Illinois side of the river. “How do you mean?” “You know,” she said. “All of the others were about someone trying to do something. My story was about me trying to get a mother. Then Neal was trying to become a Bible character. Then Mr. Mywell wanted to get Heather back. And all Martin wanted was for his family to be saved. No...