God never seems to draw a straight line.

I wish he did. It’d sure make life a lot easier.

The path I’ve been on in writing the Gabby Wells Thrillers is one of the most convoluted one could conceive. Two years ago, almost to the day, I posted about this strange unfolding. Back then I thought I was only going to write five novels.

It’s amazing how infrequently our plans come to fruition.

Back in 2008 I thought I’d be making edgy, awesome faith-based Christian films. That’s where the original Gabby Wells character came from. I thought I had achieved something special when I finished the first screenplay and outlined the other two in a movie trilogy. I had never lived with a character through more than one screenplay before.

I thought I had achieved something special when I took the Gabby Wells character and fleshed out two full seasons of a television series. My writing had expanded and the character depth increased dramatically. I had never explored the inner workings of characters like that before.

My foolish sense of completion.

I thought I had achieved something special when I spent 100 drafts to convert the first season into a novel called Water & Blood, only to throw it out and start over. The same with the second novel. The same with the first novella intended to kick off the series.

I thought I had achieved something special when I received my first completed, print-worthy Gabby Wells novel Kneel & Prey, in the mail. Or when I recently finished the draft of the second novel, Lost & Found. Or that I’m starting on the third, Sins & Suicide.

My temporary sense of success.

In all of these momentous occasions, the one constant is never feeling as if I was close to fulfilling my creative potential. Yet, as my prematurely graying hair continues to migrate atop my noggin, I have started to feel something else approaching in the distance. The end of this crazy path God has me on.

I’m not saying that end is close at hand. Even if it appeared so, knowing God’s sense of direction, it would take me 15 years of hovering around it before I eventually landed. It’s just, for the first time in my life, it is something I find increasingly tangible. I guess that’s what happens when people you watched growing up on TV or film start dying off at an accelerated rate.

The odd part about this entire process is how unpredictably inefficient the journey has been. Like or not, God likes to take the scenic route.

Years ago, I stopped worrying about reaching the destination and started enjoying the odd roads God has led me down. Many have been hard. Most requiring sacrifice and, like anything else in life, it was what made it worth while.

As of this moment, I have 12 novels, including the completion of the Gabby Wells Thrillers, waiting to transfer from my brain to the written page and I’m certain the path from thought to words will be anything but direct.

And that’s okay. God may control the path, but I control how hard I work on getting there. I’m going to drop the convertible top and let the sun splash across my face as I meander from point A to point B.

I trust the journey.