Take the Next Step

by Donald L. Reavis

Twelve years ago today, my son and I reached the Canadian border on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). Five months earlier, we had stood at the southern border, filled with excitement and apprehension. Ahead of us stretched a pathway that crossed sweltering deserts, snow-covered mountain passes, raging rivers, and scores of thunderstorms. After a few minutes taking pictures and signing the register, we turned north and took that first step toward a goal 2,660 miles away.

Is writing any different?

You sit down at your computer, pop all the joints in your fingers, and prepare to slam out a hundred words per minute, convinced your novel is ready for prime time. You open your writing program and… stare. You’ve spent sleepless nights creating your story—the characters, the plot, the twists and turns. You’ve pondered the mystery, the suspense, the action, the sadness, and yes, the romance. But now you just sit there and stare.

You see the trail leading into the trees… and then it disappears around a bend. What’s beyond the bend?

The only way to find out is to take that first step. It doesn’t have to be graceful. You’ll kick up dust and stub your toe, but at least you’ll be moving forward.

We spent two years preparing for the PCT. We watched every YouTube video we could find. We followed the trail from one end to the other on Google Earth. We read blogs, followed hikers, and soaked up advice. Were we ready? We thought we were. But it’s rarely the physical challenges that hold us back—more often it’s the doubt that creeps into our confidence and causes us to give up.

You spend hours writing and rewriting scenes, only to hit the delete key at the wrong time and lose everything. You want to scream, but the sound won’t come. You want to cry, but the tears won’t fall. You bow your head and plead with God to take you home.

And then you hear it—that still, small voice:
“Take the next step.”

This is our fourth ACFW conference. The first year, we were overwhelmed. So much of what we heard, we didn’t fully understand. But we gathered what we could and came away with something even better. We knew we weren’t alone.

It wasn’t the million-dollar contract that didn’t come, or the agent who looked questionably at our one-sheet. It was the people—people walking the same trail—who gently placed a hand on our shoulder and pointed down the path in the direction we were meant to go.

And so, we took the next step.

My wife, Sharla, and our son’s wife, Brittany, were our support team as we hiked north. Now, as I spend more time crafting stories than hiking trails, Sharla remains my constant encourager. She’s the one who keeps me focused, honest, and moving forward.

Find that person—someone who will speak truth, take your hand, lead you through the valleys, and set you free to climb the mountain passes on your journey.

Have we “arrived”? No, and I don’t expect we ever will. There will always be another story to tell and another wilderness to explore.

On September 7th, we found ourselves a quarter mile from the Canadian border when my son turned around and motioned,
“Come on, Daddy. Come on!”

I waved him on—telling him I’d meet him at the border. After months of waking up in the wilderness, loading our home onto our backs, and walking fifteen hour days, we had reached our goal. Yes, I cried.

I’m not going to tell you your next book will be a bestseller, or that your name will be up in lights. But I can assure you of this:

If you are willing to take the next step,
If you will listen to those who have climbed the mountain before you,
If you will trust God to lead you through the valley—
You will find the courage to put your thoughts into words,
And share them with the world.

God bless.

Donald L Reavis is a retired air traffic controller, whose love for backpacking inspired the Charlotte Lake series. He lives in Indiana, enjoys golf, painting, and experiencing new things with Sharla, his wife of 43 years. Visit his website at dlreavis.com.