Cathy Cash Spellman

New York Times & International Best Selling Author

The Joy of Having Books Fall on Your Head

 

The Joy of Having Books Fall on My Head

I love research.  Not quite as much as writing stories, but I love the sleuthing of it!  The glimpses into history, culture, mindset.  The detective work of finding the ambiance, the gestalt, the authenticating fact that can send both me and my readers headlong into another era, or another quirk in a character.

There’s weird but wonderful phenomenon I’ve noticed while doing such research is this:  Often, when I’m seeking info and just can’t lay my hands on it, a book will fall off a shelf and land on my head – as if some good angel has gotten tired of waiting for me to ferret out what I need and so he just bops me on the head with it, so I can’t go wrong.

It makes me wonder – is this mind-power at work, far beyond our current consciousness… or literary telekinesis perhaps… or do I just have a very kind and erudite Guardian Angel?

Whatever benevolent source is responsible, by now it has happened so often, I simply laugh out loud and say a hearty, thank you!

Bless the Child

While writing Bless the Child, not only did multiple books fall on my head, open to the exactly the info I sought, but another curious serendipity occurred that might intrigue you.

I was having difficulty finding an exorcist who was willing to discuss certain facts in my story that I needed to have corroborated.  I lamented this to my daughter and her new beau over dinner one night and to my surprise, the young man said he’d been taught in Sunday School by a priest who later became an Exorcist!

He offered to introduce me to this priest who became a great source of knowledge and a great friend up until the time of his death, several years later.  He shared his knowledge so generously, I was able to pursue truths in my story in extraordinary depth and able to find research material that would otherwise have been unavailable to me.

Is all this just coincidence or some amazing synchronicity we just don’t fully understand, yet?

I prefer to think there was some special grace in play that let me tell a tale that was meant to be in the world.  Whatever it is, I’m grateful.

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