I couldn’t believe it.  The statue was a small, white alabaster eagle. As I walked forward to receive this year’s OWFI Teepee Award for my romance novel THE PULL OF THE MOON I was stunned by the personal symbolism of that statue.  I think I even breathed, “It’s beautiful!” when I first saw it.  And I’m sure my hands shook a little as I held them out to accept that eagle from my longtime friend Kathy Moad. 

I hugged Kathy and thought how fitting it was that she -- the one who first encouraged me to participate in OWFI, the one who first to urged me to enter the contests -- should be the one to place the Teepee in my hands.  Kathy has been a caring witness to my struggles and my successes.  As the editor of the Romance Ink newsletter, she has been a great source of support and encouragement, and I think right at that moment, she was enjoying her job as a presenter very much. 

Then I walked back to my table in the farthest corner, and as I felt the waves of love and pride from so many other friends along the way, it struck me:  you know how they say that a dying person’s life flashes before her eyes?  Well, my writing life flashed before my eyes right then because I saw it reflected on the faces of my friends.  People like Robert and Julia and Anna, who were honest enough to say, “If I can do it, you certainly can!”  People like Maria and Linda and Kelli, who have won OWFI awards themselves and have volunteered their scarce time so that others might experience the same thrill.  People who are the hardworking, down-to-earth, professional writers that have become the lifeblood and hallmark of OWFI.  People who share their knowledge and their journeys and who, once a year, get together at one of the best little writing conferences in the country to celebrate the outstanding work of their peers.

As I walked back to my table I clearly recalled the day of my first book sale and having the sudden, joyous thought: “I’ve broken the surface!”  That’s because, not long before that my 16-year-old daughter, seeing my discouragement over another rejection, had said, “Mom, you are like a little eagle with an anvil tied to her ankle, who’s been dropped over the Marianas Trench in the Pacific Ocean.  Don’t stop now, you’re about to break the surface.” 

She has a flare for the dramatic, that child, but she had conjured up a very accurate image of how it feels to be a writer struggling to get published. And that image stuck with me: a little eagle straining to reach the surface.  I kept on writing.  I kept on submitting.  I kept on struggling.

And now, I’ve sold many books.  I’ve won many awards.  But there will never be another book like THE PULL OF THE MOON. And there may be other awards in my writing future, there will never be another award like the OWFI Teepee.  I can’t imagine anything being quite as meaningful as that statue – a small white eagle.  An eagle who has finally broken the surface.  An eagle in flight.