It is late at night in 1985, and if you drive west from the small town of Gap,
PA, on Newport Road, the fields are dark. After you go over the first hill, you
canâ€™t see the lights from the little league baseball diamond anymore. Soon, you
drive past the one-room, Amish schoolhouse on the left, then up over another
sharp hill, and by now the night has swallowed you completely. You can barely
see the outline of the trees. If there would be a moon, it would shine bright as
a single headlight. It would glance off the creek as you go over the bridge and
slow to make a right-hand turn.
But there is no moon, not tonight, and every time you slow the car, you can feel
the darkness press in for a closer look. Keep driving. I want to show you something.
You thought you were on a back road already, but you turn right on to South New
Holland Road, and now the road is barely two lanes wide with no line in the
middle. Again, the darkness gathers, both warm and scary. Soon the road sweeps
to the left, to the northwest, but you go straight, now on a single lane road.
Thereâ€™s the church. Thereâ€™s the cemetery. Thereâ€™s the farmhouse. Finally, you
see a light.
Itâ€™s in one of the farmhouse windows. Inside the window, you can see an
oversized box fan with a sheet attached, a sheet that billows up like a dome.
Inside the dome is a boy, holding a flashlight so that he can read The Lion,
the Witch, and the Wardrobe or Hatchet or The Indian in the
Cupboard. Or maybe itâ€™s The Black Stallion or A Wrinkle in
Time or The Hobbit. The warm night settles in through the screen
on the window, and the pages of the book flutter in front of the fan.
The darkness on those fields is heavy, yet it is powerless in the face of that
glowing dome of blowing air. He turns the page. He is oblivious to the dark.
The boy was me, and I soaked up words, absorbed stories. I tried my hand at
writing a few of my own tales when I was young, but nothing caught. I tried a
few more times in high school and college, more earnestly after I got married
and we drifted from Florida to England to Virginia. But not until 30 years after
that I laid inside the glowing dome and read my favorite books over and over
again, not until nearly 11,000 days had passed, would I open an oversized
envelope that contained a book contract for me to sign.
My book, THE DAY THE ANGELS
FELL, would be born into the world.
In a world that promises get-rich-quick schemes and five easy steps to success,
perseverance is not a popular topic. We watch people on television getting
plucked from their ordinary lives and catapulted to fame, and we watch it every
week. We dip our toes into the things we love to do and think it will be enough.
More and more, people ask me, â€śHow can I make a living as a writer? How can I
get an agent? How can I get a book deal?â€ť
â€śWrite 1,000 words a day,â€ť I say. â€śDonâ€™t revise while you write. Finish the
stories you start.â€ť
At that point, most people check out.
â€śCanâ€™t you introduce me to your agent?â€ť the more persistent ones will ask.
â€śWonâ€™t you read my story?â€ť
There are things in us that will take years to surface. There are forms of our
own lives that we have to grow into, like a tree adding ring after ring every
year. Are you willing to work for 1,000 days to become what you can become?
It was the summer of storms and strays and strangers. The summer that
lightning struck the big oak tree in the front yard. The summer his mother died
in a tragic accident. As he recalls the tumultuous events that launched a
surprising journey, Samuel can still hardly believe it all happened.
After his mother's death, twelve-year-old Samuel Chambers would do anything
to turn back time. Prompted by three strange carnival fortune-tellers and the
surfacing of his mysterious and reclusive neighbor, Samuel begins his search for
the Tree of Life--the only thing that could possibly bring his mother back. His
quest to defeat death entangles him and his best friend Abra in an ancient
conflict and forces Samuel to grapple with an unwelcome question: could it be
possible that death is a gift?
Haunting and hypnotic, The Day the Angels Fell is a story that explores the
difficult questions of life in a voice that is fresh, friendly, and unafraid.
With this powerful debut, Shawn Smucker has carved out a spot for himself in the
tradition of authors Madeleine L'Engle and Lois Lowry.
Young Adult | Inspirational
[Revell, On Sale: September 5, 2017, Hardcover / e-Book,
ISBN: 9780800728496 / eISBN: 9781493411078]
Two readers will get a copy of THE DAY THE ANGELS FELL, just leave a comment below
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