Yeara ago, only a few years after joining the Church, I was privileged to find ANWA, or it found me. I can't remember anymore. It was a miracle to find such an amazing group of sisters who had focus, knew what their purpose was, and had a firm belief that they could actually get there, who actually understood me and what my life was like: eclectic, un-organized at times, and seemingly filled with more mishaps than the average person; the typical LDS part-time writer, full-time mother's life. As a new member of the Church, learning to redefine myself and leave my past life behind, I'd felt comfortable in the Church before. But, as with my pre-Church life, I'd never felt surrounded by kindred spirits before. In finding ANWA, though, I knew I had arrived home.

Having found myself and a place that affirmed me, I struggled to find out what I was supposed to accomplish in this life. What was my life's mission? Of course, my most important mission was to be a mother (not a wife at that point, since I was already and still am divorced). I wondered, though, if I had a mission as a writer. Was what I was endeavoring to do important in eternal terms other than my discovering a way to use my talents to support my family or to grow through the insights it might give me?

All around me at the time, ANWA sisters were writing miraculous things. Sherri Zirker was producing books on parenting with her husband that made differences in both member and non-member families' lives. Sarah Hinze was writing books that changed non-members' perspectives on the existence and nature of the pre-born. Peggy Shumway was working on a book about the time of the Gadiantons that will someday bring its realities home to those of us living in this new Gadianton period. Marsha Ward was planning the wonderful Westerns she is now printing that will eventually make the conversion to LDS a process many Western fans experience without even realizing they've been prepared.

Everyone had a mission. And, as they identified those missions and worked toward them, the trials were immense and the rewards unbounded. Still, I struggled.

Then, during one meeting, the challenge was presented. Fast and pray to discover our missions, our special assignments as LDS woman writers in these perilous times that needed us so much. I took the challenge, and the answer was swift. I was to help people see that they could make it no matter what. But how was I to do that?

Over the years, I've written numerous books, and I've struggled to get them published. I wrote one book when I first joined ANWA, and was prompted to send it to Chieko Akasaki. She read it, and told me how wonderful and needed it was. I sent it to Deseret and Covenant—rejected! I rewrote it in a Christian version and submitted it to an agent who handled that kind of book. It was returned with a short note that said I didn't really need an agent. Translation—rejected again!

I've written journals, organizers, books on single parenting, books on faith—all rejected. Yet, each blessing I get says the same thing—write, speak. I have things to say, and I need to say them or they won't be heard. What's a writer to do?

Recently, I revisited the questions I asked Heavenly Father years ago. What is my mission? I finally understood that it is much simpler than I'd ever thought. It's to bring people to remembrance—remembrance of the spirit they have inside them, of the strength and warmth and beauty they nurtured in the pre-existence and of the faith they once had, so that they can draw on those qualities to return home in these perilous times. How am I going to do that? Good question. I suspect I need to revamp my writing style a little. I need to ponder that, though.

I've also realized that, in the numbers game of publishing, I may be a loser. I once had a bishop tell me that 99 out of 100 people would never understand me. I told him, "Bishop, I'm not here for the 99. I'm here for the one person who feels alone, unloved, and misunderstood." And, if I can't make the numbers game, I may never make a living, even an increase, at my writing. It may be a labor of love and service and nothing more.

Am I discouraged? Ask Marsha Ward how many times I've cried on her shoulder by long distance. But, I've asked the important questions for me to never give up: Why am I writing, and how dies it fit into Father's big plan? How am I helping to atone the little bit I can for the suffering I gave the Savior, by serving Him in one of the few ways I can?

I can see that those of you who've posted materials I've read [on the Critique group] already do and have done this. Margaret writes books that inspire as she helps people gain compassion and an appreciation for the service of nursing. Stephanie's work about her son is strong and uplifting. Joyce's Chubby will help so many children start with strong ethics and love the the children around them. Marsha will prepare many to convert. So, what I'm saying may be preaching to the choir. If so, please forgive me.

I don't know how many of you get discouraged, or wonder if you're doing it right, or whether if you were you'd be published by some publisher, making money, the way I've felt sometimes. At almost 50, I feel I should be farther along in this writing experience, more recognized, or making more of a difference, so maybe some of you others feel the same way, too.

Perhaps if, like me, you sometimes feel discouraged or doubting, even if you've already been published, but something seems to be going wrong now with your current project, you might gain re-resolution through revisiting your mission for writing. It's a very personal exercise, but one that has helped me to hold on in spite of all the discouragements my life has offered.