I like writing about things. I wanted to be a novelist and thought I had a few science-fiction novel stories in me. But I can’t quite seem to get down to it. So I write other things.

I’m also forgetful. Sometimes I dig in old files and find something I’ve written but can’t remember having written, and am surprised at how well it’s written!

I’ve been writing a book for the past few weeks. The book had the working title “How to become a Mormon, and why you should consider it.” I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, well over 15 years ago. This was back before the Church started getting serious about leaving behind the nickname “Mormon.” So my working title became “How to become a Latter-day Saint, and why you should consider it.” Last night the book’s word count passed 13,500.

I wasn’t sure about how many pages in a 6×9 inch book this was going to come out to, and I was worried that the book was getting too long. So I decided to check the manuscript of my book about Bramber Castle to see how many words it had. Because I have published that one and I know how big the physical book is. So I went to the external drive where I keep that manuscript along with other older documents. But before I found it to open it I happened to notice another manuscript with the title “Becoming a Mormon: A Guide for the Serious Investigator.” This manuscript was last edited on the 6th of April 2015.

“Where did this come from?” I asked myself. At first I didn’t remember a thing about it, but when I opened it I found that I was the author. And upon inspection it did start coming back to me. The manuscript wasn’t finished, but it was almost 15,000 words long. And the general layout was similar to the one I’ve been writing for the past couple of weeks. Some of what I wrote then isn’t covered in what I’ve been writing now. And some of what I’ve been writing now isn’t covered in what I was writing then. So what do I do? Maybe I could meld them together?

Well, I think I’ve figured out what happened. I stopped writing it not long after my wife Waltraut, who had been suffering from colon cancer, was given six months to live, and had started hospice in our home. She passed away at home just five and a half months later.