Sow Seed to the Wind

My words, a common voice on a road traveled, a road called life. One voice echoed through a canyon while another wrote a solitary account; a life story written. No more, but absolutely no less. Record my footsteps and release those words to a path; that was my heart mission.

So not knowing where I was on this path, having just a memory of what had been and what I could dream tomorrow to be, all I knew was the feeling of the moment…

Perhaps another author would have…

Reflecting on the seed now planting, the seed planted yet time needed for harvest, and what Rising Sparrow Press would sow…

The final words of Dear Daisy were written still it would take another six months before Rising Sparrow Press would be born, December 22, 2003. Rising Sparrow Press didn’t feel like a small step. That step felt like I was defining myself, bringing Dear Daisy out from the safety of my home and heart for the World to judge. Self-publishing would provide my path to bring forth my words, my message, and to overcome societal limits and prejudices. Creating Rising Sparrow Press to publish Dear Daisy meant recreating myself, searching and walking a pathway totally foreign.

Spring this year would hold meaning. I needed to believe once more in the hope of Spring. Summer would follow Spring and the first days of Summer had always been mine to believe in Sun and Daisy’s return. Publication date was set; June, 2004.

Money sacrificed aside from daily struggles and living needs while writing and collating Dear Daisy, as Spring approached one prematurely warm winter day in February (Ash Wednesday) I drove Dear Daisy to Ohio to the printing press.

Driving, miles stacked against me, I daydreamed each mile of the road to Ohio and each mile of my return home remembering where I had been and dreaming visions of where I was hoping the road would take me.

First miles it was fresh in my mind of the times of reaching out, finding the courage and committing the time and heart to the day-to-day steps required to write Dear Daisy. I knew nothing about writing, still I had written, covered pages with words and my name would appear on the cover as author.

Then establishing Rising Sparrow Press. The fact that I knew nothing of the book printing process save creating margins and legible copy was just the tip of my naivety. The expansive publishing world; rules, system conformities, steps required from this office then the next, of course money all slowed my pace, hiking the mountain with my well-worn sneakers, day by day checking my progress and my supplies. Somehow, my to-do-list became more manageable with hours of reading and studying and perhaps it was my naivety that assisted my willingness to take each next step.

Time was on my side as each step required investment, especially the ISBN registration through Bowker’s and the printing. I knew I wanted to create future writings. I had five books already started, one, a children’s book featuring Levi and this alone I could envision a future series. Seemed reasonable to not limit myself to a package of ten ISBN when I was certain there could reasonably be a number eleven. Nine hundred dollars later and paperwork filed in hand I held proof that Dear Daisy as a book had secure place.

Perhaps any other publisher would have…

Small steps I took with much time between each for sleep and balance practice. My first words I had found and my first steps now would come together. I thought, how true the first time; how true this time. Remembering that once I had mastered first words and first steps to gain mobility, surely with time, patience, and practice I could do it again. Mobility-Stability, just takes courage, time, and tries. My words were already on paper, waiting to be printed and released. Surely, just a step, one step at a time couldn’t be that big a deal.

Each step took patience. Most days I balanced my fear of progress against my fear of being held back by a World demanding conformity. My desire to break from conformity surfaced again and again. The old way, the way of grit and Spirit of writers I admired; self-publishers that came before me. I had read of Mark Twain’s path and envisioned first printing presses that released Ben Franklin’s words. Revolutionary and independent in thought, that appealed to me.

Reliving yet one more time, a death, that's how I'd describe writing as I sensed the last words finding place on paper. Ending the book, leaving Daisy or sensing her leaving me, that was the feeling I struggled against. Still I sensed this time coming and when it appeared I just knew, much like the first time, time was moving on. So, heart giving in to time and unknown tomorrows, I let go and redirected my focus, though blurred by tears.

Birthing gave way to a mother's heart holding on too tight, I guess that's how I’d describe leaving my baby behind in the hands of the stranger, printer. Collated pages to become a book,
now in the hands of others. Truly a bittersweet life moment.

Fear came not knowing where the pathway of publishing would take me. My heart, I knew, was not prepared for a business failure and definitely not another dead-end. With so much invested I discarded such thoughts. I chose instead to believe in new beginnings. Still, it would take standing on what felt to be the edge of a cliff, closing my eyes, and a leap of faith, totally a leap of faith.


“A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.”
-William Shedd

"To finish is sadness to a writer—a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn’t really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done."
-John Steinbeck


Self Published Author

And so…I, one voice,
searched for simply a way to say
and to write
my heart.

To be in the end I,
name, Author?
Maybe –I Am.

Hearts finding connection,
time and wind carried pages
someday tell.

Publisher?
Find the Heart Land fertile.
Cultivate the path for my words,
Sun to find.
Sow my seed to the wind.


Jane Marla Ver Dow
Rising Sparrow