How I Became a Christian Author
I never planned to become a Christian writer; I began with children’s books and YA urban fantasy after opening my daycare in 1997. Though I enjoyed reading and engaging with the kids, writing wasn’t my original focus.
My early writing began in primary school, where I was encouraged to write about characters from the Bible and reflect on their stories in relation to daily life and ethical decisions. For example, I wrote about the three Hebrew youths who refused to bow to the idol established by Nebuchadnezzar. When the Hebrew boys refused; they were thrown into a fiery furnace. And God was there to deliver them. I wrote about the pressure young people face to use drugs and drink and encouraged resisting those influences. I noted that support is available from God if friends reject you for not joining in. My writing felt like short sermons.
I lived at the library and Barnes and Noble, purchasing and renting books. One day, I got tired of reading some of the children’s books as they were dull to me. I started writing them for my kids, and they loved them. My writing changed when my sister practiced witchcraft against me. Upset, I opened my laptop and started a piece called “The Witch’s Brew,” and recorded my story. The Holy Spirit supported me, inspiring my journey as a Christian writer sharing my testimony.
My Morning Writes
Every morning, I wake up and reflect on what has happened in my life. I often think about significant experiences, including times when I avoided danger. I also remember my family, friends, and others I have met, which inspires me to write about them and create scenes. This is when I find myself becoming more creative. I go to my prayer room, put on some gospel music, power up my altar and relax on the couch in the presence of the Lord, sipping on a cup of tea or coffee, inviting the Holy Spirit to come in and help me write. My pen starts to flow, bringing life to the pages as I dump out whatever creative thoughts come to mind. I write daily to avoid writer’s block, drawing inspiration from people I meet—from Mrs. Betty at the beauty shop, known for her gossip, to Shorty, my dad’s friend who spent time on our porch chatting and flirting with the women. Their personalities help shape my characters.
What Really Happened to the Missing Ring?
In my book, I described how my wedding ring disappeared. To shift from memoir to fantasy fiction, I restructured the story by following genre rules. My editor suggested making the disappearance mystical, so I revised the scenes to involve witchcraft. The truth is, the witch visited me one afternoon as she often did. We were getting ready to have our normal girly chats over a beer for her and a glass of wine for me. As soon as she walked inside the house, she had to use the bathroom, which is normal for people to do. While she was in the bathroom, I thought she was taking care of business, and she was, stealing my ring out of my costume jewelry box. I had placed it there two days prior when I decided to clean the bathroom. I did not want to clean with my wedding ring on. Trying to put gloves over the ring always ripped the gloves, so I placed the ring in my costume jewelry box temporarily. She was in there rambling until she found something of value, then conjured up this lie about how her stomach was aching, and she needed to go home. I believed her as I sat at the table with our cold drinks getting warm.
She went straight to the Pawn shop, exchanged it for money, and smoked it up on drugs and gobbling down pills. When I went to retrieve it two days later, it was absent. She was the last person to leave my house. My spirit informed me she took it. When I confronted her, she lied about the entire story. God had to step in and help me fight my battle. Read more about the outcome and how I constructed the scene in “The Witch’s Brew”.
The Truth About Her Healing Potion
My sister, the witch, had always been manipulative and evil. I had not sensed it was witchcraft in my earlier years because the thought of witchcraft in my bloodline skipped across my mind. She was like a Sour Patch Kid; first, they are sweet, and then they are sour. She mixed up a potion that killed people. Mysterious deaths began to occur when she came back from Texas. I got curious. She used it as she said, “To make people go away.” She wanted everyone around her to go away, which is why she was so disrespectful to others. I was her culprit. I became inquisitive about her. I asked God why she was killing through witchcraft and entering my dreams. The Lord revealed it to me in a dream. She was talking to her friend. The two of them were standing in the hallway of my parents’ home in the living room. Her friend asked, “Why do you hate your sister, LaTanya, so much?” The witch answered in her drunken, slurry voice, “I-I just want her to go away.” So began our fight. Read more about the dreams and battles in “The Witch’s Brew.”
We need to pray as the bible instructs us to, without ceasing, because the devil roams seeking whom he may devour.
Dreamland: Beyond the Spirit Realm
Over the past years of waring in the spirit realm, Jesus has shown and given me many prophetic dreams and visions. Some I was able to interpret, and others have not yet been revealed to me. In this dream, the Lord was training me to recognize familiar spirits. The term “familiar spirits come from the Latin word, familiaris, meaning, “household servant”. These spirits serve witches and sorcerers who claim they obey their commands. They conjure them up in your dreams and at seances with palm readers. I’d been battling my sister and witches in the spirit realm. Every day the Lord and I would meet up in my prayer and war room, in my living room, as I’d minister to him giving my prayers, praise and worship. I’d invite the Holy Spirit to come in while singing and dancing undignified after the order of King David.
This one night, as I lay down to sleep. I saw a man walking towards me. He wore a baseball cap, dressed all black. As he got closer, he resembled my husband, but I couldn’t tell because the bib of his hat was pulled down low. I studied his build and could see parts of his eyes. It was my husband, so I thought. His brisk walk turned into a power walk as he approached me. A smile stretched across my face. I was elated to see that it was my hubby. In his hand he held a red drinking cup. Without stopping, he placed the cup up to my lips and said, “Drink this,” as he kept walking past me. I knew something wasn’t right as I held the content in my mouth because my husband wouldn’t walk past me and do this. He’d say, “I love you,” and speak beautiful words to me, giving me hugs and kisses. Then I heard a voice say, “Spit it out!” I immediately spit it out.
I later realized these were familiar spirits imitating our loved ones to deceive us, not actually our relatives. The drink in the spirit realm was called sickness. If I’d swallowed it, I would’ve mysteriously gotten sick, possibly died. I immediately woke from the dream and rebuked it in the name of Jesus. Satan uses demons and witches to do his dirty work, conjuring spells and performing witchcraft so it will manifest in the physical realm. I will not die but live to declare the works of the Lord.
