On a night four years ago, I went on a date. If the cold hadn’t forced all the leaves off the trees, the manic wind made sure the job was done. On this night I would take the first step in achieving one of my largest goals—I just didn’t realize it.
During this date, we did not go on a stroll or have a picnic. The dark sky would have complemented a candlelit dinner, perhaps at a fancy restaurant, had my date and I not been in our early twenties with no funds. Like many our age, we opted to have a free date at his apartment.
With the foul weather, he suggested we mimic what Mary Shelley and her companions did when they could not go outside: write stories.
If you can’t tell, I thoroughly enjoy writing. So we chose a prompt, set a timer, and each pressed pen to paper, letting our minds move us to another world. When I finished, I thought I had created a brilliant piece. A twist of stereotypes and expectations. I liked it enough to go home and make it into a short story.
When I later shared it with my date, he told me he didn’t like it. It was too sad.
A small part of me wanted to prove him wrong. I gave it to my roommate. She agreed about the sadness but said that it was written well. That didn’t feel like enough for me. I cared. I wanted to share this story. I wanted to show others it was more than a few pages filled with sorrow.
I decided I would turn it into a novel. I would write my first manuscript.
Four years later, I am publishing that same story.
This story has gone through a lot. It’s been left alone, not written in for months. It’s been seen by my first ever writing group, which fell apart within half a year. It’s gone through my second (hopefully lifelong) writing group. It went to a writer’s conference. It was read in full by an agent, twice. It’s gotten rejected and ignored, read and edited countless times.
This story has seen me go through a lot. I wrote in it when I got married and when I got divorced. I wrote in it when I transferred to a new university and when I graduated from it. I wrote in it when I had no job, three jobs, and about everything but a full-time job with a nice salary.
For a while, I wanted to wait to publish this. I wanted to have an agent and go through a publishing company. However, as I’ve continued with other projects, I have realized that these later projects will likely get picked up, and my first one will get left in the dust.
That would be fine. If I didn’t feel like this story could help a hurting soul.
So, I’ve decided to publish my first book. It will be available on Amazon starting on January 1, 2025.
What is it about? Real life and how much it sucks. How much it can be good. And how hard it can be to get there. Especially when you come from a family background that’s … well … let’s just say “unideal.”
You’ll enjoy this if you’re interested in stories like The Words We Keep and I’m Glad My Mom Died.
It all begins with 23-year-old Shelly. (Representing people in their twenties!!!)
Shelly wants to build the ideal family. Do better than her parents. Except right when she starts, her life shatters as easily as the plate scattered across her kitchen floor.
Her husband tries to help, but there’s a part of her past Shelly won’t tell anyone, including him. Instead, she continues to seek help from her hypercritical mother. As the tension in the relationship with her mom increases, Shelly is pressured into flying cross country to see her. If this trip goes well, maybe she can leave the past behind. Maybe she can fix her relationship with her mom.
Or, at the very least, maybe she won’t become like her: alone.
The name of this novel? Surely, Shelly.
I KNOW.
You’re wondering what’s with the plate. What isn’t she telling her husband? Why is she married at this young age?
Actually, I have no clue what you’re thinking, but as for the last question… This story takes place in Utah. Shelly is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she’s a graduate student at Brigham Young University.
No, it’s not the case that everyone in her situation gets married at that age, but it’s not uncommon either.
But guys! As someone who grew up a member, it bothered me to see the religion either mocked or misrepresented every time it was used in the entertainment industry.
If a Catholic, a Jew, a Christian, and many others can be in a book and not have the entire book centered on their religious identity, then why not a member of this church? Plenty of members are like others: trying to get by. I saw a need for representation and wanted to fill it.
If you were interested in my book and suddenly find yourself deterred for this reason, then okay. I’m sorry to see you go. But, like I said before, this isn’t a book about religion or about quirky Utah: it’s about real life.
It’s about what can happen when a daughter tries to put together the broken pieces of her relationship with her mom.
For those of you who have read all of this, thank you. I’ve seen a lot of broken hearts in adults who come from broken families. A lot of us feel lost when it comes to creating our families. We never had the examples we needed. I hope that this story resonates with those who can relate.
If you want to read this book, you can follow me on Instagram for updates. I will be revealing the book cover at the beginning of December! If you don’t have social media, then save the date and on January 1, go to Amazon and search for Surely, Shelly by MRC. Finally, when the book releases, I will also post on my blog as a reminder.
So, so many people have supported me. Some of the most important people to me had let me down when it came to support, and while I’ve let those people go, I have held tightly to the gratitude I’ve felt for those who showed me love and care.
No matter how many read this book, I’m glad I’m doing this. Surely, Shelly is a reminder of the rawness of life. It shares truth about human complexity. It shows us that, despite all the chaos, there’s hope.
Read MRC 