It is said that a journey of 1000 miles begins with the first step. I was only a few steps into mine when
suddenly, my family structure changed from something that was familiar and comfortable, to something that
was becoming oh-so typical for the community in which I lived. We became a single parent household.

The consequences were far reaching for me and my sisters, but we weathered the storm, all thanks to my dear,
sweet, mother. She was, then, as she still is today, our umbrella of strength and love.

Stepping into adolescence I progressed, without event, through those most formative years of social
development, then on into adulthood.

That's when I began to stumble.
Choices, choices, choices.

It's all about choices and, depending on the road you choose, they can either make your way straight and
prosperous, or unbelievably rough, winding and branched by forks that tempt a pause of indecision. I chose
the latter, inadvertently placing me on a nearly 30 year detour. That time was spent trying to live up to the
expectations that my desires and personality demanded of me; careers that seemed profitable, impressive and
made-to-order. In other words, I was chasing after a future that I created--a future that, as it turns out,
wasn't meant for me. Writing was something I never considered; in fact, it wasn't even a blip on my radar
screen. For me, the title of author, at the time, just didn't have the glamour or the steady income potential
that a bona fide corporate title did. I continued my odyssey; self-driven into varying roles of
pseudo-importance; making a good living, but never finding satisfaction to the same degree as my colleagues.
Driven by frustration, I concocted another plan that I hoped would place me on that elusive road to success,
only to have it dashed by cruel circumstance. Sometimes the best ideas are those that come without any
forethought.

I can't say exactly how the story for "The Joshua Tree" came to me. It wasn't burning on the back of my
mind for several years as procrastination has a way of causing; nor was it inspired by some life changing
event. It came, somewhat, out of the blue while I was behind the wheel of my car; first as a whim, then
evolving into micro-scenes that all connected together like a complex molecule. I quickly put pen to paper, and
over time, began to layer my narrative with diverse subplots that complimented the central story line. The
next year was spent perfecting my newfound craft; discovering syntax usage and reacquainting myself with
english as a first language. Five years and five drafts later I held in my hands the finished manuscript. The
sense of accomplishment I felt afterwards was immensely satisfying, like nothing I'd ever experienced in the
rarefied towers of corporate America. That's when I knew my years long pursuit was over and that this was
the future I was destined for. I'm now proud to call myself an author. But even more gratifying is that I am a
published author, the process of which can sometimes be more difficult than the actual writing itself. The joy
of writing is reflected in the sentiments of those who regard your finished work favorably. It gives me great
joy to know that readers are enthralled by my novel. A journey is never complete until fate declares it so.
Therefore, stay on your present path, look to God, and wait for Him to illuminate the way for you.
L. Steven Rencher
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