Thursday, February 21, 2008


Today is a monumental day for me. My second novel's
(2009) been revised and sent back to my editor at Bethany
House. If everyone is happy with the changes I made, then
we can pass around the plate of reduced Valentine's cookies
and celebrate. I'll even throw in some caramel ice cream
I got on sale this morning.

Releasing it back to the editor took some time. For
two weeks I told myself, "This is the week I'll send it
back." Yet I held on until today. Today I abandoned it
and let it go. Hopefully, my editor will be pleased
with the changes. I think I am.

Thursday, February 7, 2008


I started this blog site a year ago so I could have something
to do while waiting for my novel to make its debut. Now I hear
that the Bethany House fall catalog is on its way to being
printed. And guess what? My picture will be included in
it. Which means, my book might be published after all.
I suppose all first-time novelists wonder if their book
will actually make it to the shelves of bookstores. Is
it really going to happen, or is the publisher just having
fun with me?

I've had a whole plate filled with writing projects lately
and am also revising my second novel. Readers who read it
liked it; of course there were some suggestions that were
made and I'm working on those.

Meanwhile, I continue to wait and wonder..........

Saturday, February 2, 2008


Today marks eleven years since Daniel's
death from cancer treatments. My ritual is
to light the vanilla-scented candle, shed
some tears, and write something
in his memory. This is how I can make it
through another year without him. Although
my desire is to write something profound
and earth-shattering, I can never
quite get it right. This year, this will
have to do.

Lamentation for My Son
~Alice J. Wisler

When spring arrived, he had left
tiny tennis shoes by the door
stuffed animals nestled in his bed.
Summer warmed the earth
although his laughter
never made it to my ears.
Autumn brought the dazzle of
gold and winter the soft snow;
his jacket remained in the closet.

Opening the window, I breathe in
yesterday--what I had, what was mine.
Always yearning for another day
before the tombstone under the oak tree
held his name.
[In memory of Daniel Paul Wisler 8/25/92-2/2/97]