Hello! I'm so glad you're here.
Let's get the formulaic author bio out of the way:
Nina Navisky holds degrees in both psychology and speech-language pathology. She has worked with children and adults with a wide range of neurological disabilities, and drew from her own family’s struggle with autism in the creation of her debut novel. In her second book, she examines two forms of mental illness. Born and bred in Massachusetts, she completed her studies at Emory, Brown, and George Washington University prior to returning to her hometown, where she now lives with her husband and two sons.
Industry standard. It ties my work and life experiences to my writing, and it offers a sliver of information about my personal life, to make me relatable. My opinion: yawn.
The problem with conventional biographies is that they don’t give the reader any insight into who the author really is--or what drives an author to write--and I think that’s important. When I finish reading a book that has resonated with me, then I want to know more than a few dry facts. So here's what I'd like to share:
Writing a novel is a marathon. It's an achingly long endeavor, and each time I've gotten a glimpse of the the finish line, I’ve been so relieved at the prospect of finally being done that I haven’t considered how I’ll feel after I cross it.
I see it, and I think:
I won’t miss discovering a must-needed change in chapter eighteen (requiring revisions in chapters one through seventeen).
I won’t miss timelines that don’t mesh.
I won’t miss cutting scenes that I adore, because they don't progress the plot.
I won’t miss editing or proofreading.
I won't miss writer's block.
But what I don’t consider, as I limp over the finish line, is how much I’ll miss my imaginary world. I know every impulse, motive, decision, and dream of each of my characters. That’s an intimacy that cannot be had with real people, even those I love the most, because I’m only privy to what they're willing to share, or what I can glean from mannerisms and expressions. I’m not aware of every flicker of fear, devious intention, or embarrassing incident in their consciousness or memories---nor should I be. Boundaries exist in healthy relationships.
But to know and orchestrate all in a world of my own creation is a daunting and irresistible challenge.
And so, after I rest, I’ll start training for my next novel.
Pastor Lundstrom has two weeks to decide.
Soon he will preside over his daughter Gracie's wedding--a blessing he has long prayed for--but as the day approaches, he finds himself dreading its arrival.
Tim harbors a shameful secret: he has lost his faith. Revealing himself risks losing Gracie, his adored and only child; his baffling autistic grandson, Luke; his devout and kind-hearted wife; and the community he has nurtured at his small church. But the price of silence is steep. Performing the ceremony as a nonbeliever will taint Gracie's wedding and bind him forever to the secret that isolates him from those he loves.
Also burdened by the truth is Josephine Wallis, an accomplished physician who has yet to reveal her secret to her longtime boyfriend. Compounding her worries is the looming deadline of the wedding--will her intellectually disabled younger sister be able to live on her own when Gracie and Luke move out of the apartment the three now share?
A poignant exploration of the boundaries of trust and the repercussions of secrets, A Mosaic of Grace captivates with its skillful weaving of the lives of the Lundstrom and Wallis families as they wrestle with uncertainty and stumble towards acceptance.
WRITING A PLUM FORTUNE
Dogwalker by day and fortune cookie writer, by night, Marissa is broke. Blindsided by divorce and one year short of an Ivy League degree, she’s determined to go back to college to support her young son, Owen, who shows signs of both musical giftedness and—unbeknownst to her—mental illness. When a mysterious stranger offers her a week’s pay to cook dinners for Rose, an irritable widow in her apartment building, Marissa accepts, despite her misgivings. Sure, it’ll take a white lie or two to explain sudden nightly visits to a neighbor she doesn’t know, but she’d be a fool to turn down such easy cash.