by Roseanna White | Sep 14, 2011 | Remember When Wednesdays, Uncategorized
Last year around this same time, I was shifting gears–moving from work on Jewel of Persia to work on Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland. It was a pretty big shift, I grant you. Both historical, but . . . yeah, not a lot in common otherwise, and it took me a goodly while to successfully switch gears in my li’l brain.
I’ll be honest. When I dove into the 1780s, it wasn’t my favorite era. The fashions were still unfamiliar. Powdered hair, paniers, sack-backs . . . It just wasn’t what I knew. I’d written in the 1860s, the 1880s, the 1920s, but the 1780s?? What in the world had I gotten myself into?
Speech patterns were different. Vocabulary, tricky. I like to stay true to the language as much as possible without being confusing to modern readers, but so many words I use regularly weren’t around yet.
But after reading some era work, studying the era fashion and culture, I wrote. And I fell a little bit in love with the elaborate coils of hair and the wide-hipped dresses. The beautiful mannerisms and the formality of life. Enough in love that I’ve spent the summer working on another book set 1779-80.
At this point, I’ve grown accustomed to the cadence of speech I settled on as a compromise between what it was and what modern readers will “get.” I close my eyes and see sack-back gowns and shades of hair powder. It’s comfortable, and it’s beautiful.
So naturally, it’s time to shift gears again, LOL. Back to the 1860s, of all things, though on a different continent than what I’ve written before. I’m excited to have this new project to work on, but when I sat down to write my first scene I had this moment of realization–I needed different speech patterns, different fashion. A different setting, which means different similes. A totally different feel.
It took me a few days to wrap my brain around the changes, some reading of appropriate books, some revisiting of hoop dresses and sugary-sweet mannerisms. I’m exciting to really dive into it all, and into the history I’m going to need to draw on for this new book.
But I’m going to miss the 18th century. That century that at first befuddled and confused me, that I didn’t quite love now has a very special place in my heart. Hopefully I can revisit it someday in the near-ish future.
I’m really grateful for this opportunity that requires the shift of gears. And I’m also really grateful that when it comes down to it, I just love history. Might take me a while to really fall in love with each era for its unique features and fashions, but once I discover what sets it apart . . . ah.
by Roseanna White | Sep 13, 2011 | Uncategorized
Right now I’m reading The Colonel’s Lady by amazing author Laura Franz. Thus far, here are my impressions: deep, lovable characters. Awe-inspiring writing. Compelling plotline.
Which begs the question of why I’ve been reading it for a month already, LOL. I feel like I’m really not giving Laura and this book their dues by going so long between picking it up, and when I do, I can only manage a few pages before the day’s exhaustion overcomes me. But last night as I squeezed in five pages, I realized I was really savoring every word. I knew I wouldn’t read much–it was already bed time, and my eyes were sliding shut. But as I moved my eyes over expert phrases that perfectly crafted the characters in my mind, this was me:
Happy siiiiiiiiiiggggghhhhh. 😉
Amazingly, I’ve yet to forget a single detail of what I’ve read thus far, though it’s occasionally been two weeks between my chapters. Why? Maybe in part because I’m reading slowly, savoring. Letting it all sink in before I turn a page. But also because the author has done an amazing job making a story and characters who stand out, sterling, in the reader’s mind.
So. I can’t offer a full review of the full story yet. But I can say that I’ve heard enough about what’s coming next that I really, really hope I have time to read more soon! And I can also say that what I’ve read thus far has convinced me anew that this is an expert author who knows her stuff and delivers it with amazing beauty.
(It also must be noted that the heroine’s name is Roxanna, which I have been mistakenly called enough that it still gives me a jolt to read it, LOL)
by Roseanna White | Sep 12, 2011 | Uncategorized
On Saturday I got the news that my critique partner and good friend of four years, Mary Proctor, lost the battle to cancer on Friday afternoon. I can’t tell you how hard this hit. How much I’ll miss her. How big an impact this godly woman had on my life.
It had been a while since I’d heard from Mary, but she’d been weighing heavily on my heart and mind this past week, and I emailed her just Thursday to ask her how she was doing and tell her I was praying for her. I doubt she ever read the message, but I’m glad the Lord prompted me to send it. Glad He spoke to my spirit to tell me to pray.
Today it seems fitting to remember Mary as her family and local friends are gathering for her funeral. I know this is more for me than my readers, but I beg your indulgence.
Mary’s motto always came down to “Praise the Lord anyhow.” No matter what went wrong, what discouragements came her way, what pain struck, that was her response. That was what I most loved about her. That her
Joy for the Lord bubbled out of her even in the darkest of times. That she let it carry her away so much she once injured herself dancing in church.
That’s Mary.
Grief, sorrow, are very personal, selfish things. I know Mary’s happy, praising God and glorifying her Savior. I rejoice for her in that. But oh, how I’ll miss her wise counsel. How I’ll miss her long emails. How I’ll miss finding her at conference and giving her a big hug.
Mary was my first critique partner, the first fellow-writer ever to read my work. In the last four years, she’s read everything I’ve written. Offered her advice, never believing how valuable it was. Loved me and encouraged me. Spoken such amazing things into my life.
“Despair not small beginnings, Roseanna–that’s what the Lord told me when I prayed about WhiteFire.”
“I always sensed a deep spirit in you. I’m so glad to see it blooming.”
“I believe you’re going to make it, and make it big. I know it. Your time of success is coming soon.”
I could always count on Mary to be a prayer warrior when I needed one. To offer honesty and truthfulness. To encourage and support.
I thank the Lord for the time I had to know and appreciate her, for the role she played in my life, and I pray I was even a fraction of the blessing to her that she was to me. I thank the Lord for the spirit He gave her, for the love that filled her. I thank the Lord for finally restoring her to wholeness, if not in the way I wanted.
And I thank Him, too, for a family to hold me while I cry. For a husband who just gathers me close and says, “I know.” For a daughter who carefully writes “I love you Mommy” on a slip of paper and presses it into my hand. For a son who snuggles up beside me in silence while the storm rolls through.
I thank Him for giving me a tomorrow in which to remember her, and all the other loved ones that have gone before. I thank Him through smiles and tears, through joys and sorrows.
I thank Him for Mary.
by Roseanna White | Sep 9, 2011 | Uncategorized
To my Brother, the Stranger
(written on 9/12/01)
I did not know you. I never met you. If I had seen you, you would have been simply a face in the crowd. My thoughts never touched upon the possibility of your existence.
And yet. . .
And yet when I heard of the tragedy of losing you, you were suddenly my brother, my sister, my best friend. You were the comrade I never had the opportunity to meet, the face I could sketch simply because of how many faces you are. And every time I open my mind, it is to realize anew that you were a person, you were loved, and now you’re gone.
It’s a shock I never expected to feel, a pain no man, woman, or child should ever have to endure. And I did not know you. How much worse must it be for the widows, the orphans, the childless parents, the brotherless sisters that were made on that day? How much worse again for those who yet know nothing about the fate of those dearest to them?
It is a pain no one should have to gaze on, much less be consumed by. It is a piercing that should quickly tear down all barriers until there is nothing left but a shaken humanity, a resolved people, a united nation. It should induce the best in man when he looks at evil, when he sees the dancing in his enemy’s camps. It should make him realize that the sickness he feels, the death he sees is a presence to be ignored no longer.
I pray that somehow this change in our lives will be used in a way to make us better. I pray that as I walk down the streets of my untouched city I never forget that it could be gone in a moment. I pray that as I pass a stranger I remember to remember that he is not a stranger to someone. I pray that soon all our fears are exhausted and we are left instead with hope. And I pray that we never take for granted the greatness of our nation, lest through our disregard it lose that thing that sets us apart.
I can never say the right words to those who are grieving, because there are no words to be said. I did not know you. I never met you. All I can offer you is the love of a face you have never seen and the prayers of a heart that is reaching across the miles to the strangers it now calls brothers.
May God enfold us in His arms until the terror goes away. May He settle his peace over us until the rivers of tears run dry. May He comfort us until we become victorious. And may we never forget that it is He who will lift us from the mire. Today America has united in common anguish. Tomorrow we will rejoice in justice. And all the world will know that this is a nation that God has blessed and will never forsake. Let us be the first to proclaim that.
~*~
I have posted the above before on the anniversary of 9/11, and I like to do so anew each year to remind myself of my own reaction and what I observed. I knew no one directly effected by the tragedy–and no one left untouched by it.
But as all the stories poured in, what I most loved to hear were those miracles, large and small, that our Lord orchestrated amidst that terrible day. The alarm clocks that didn’t wake people up that morning. The viruses that kept healthy folks home. The heroes that waded through the wreckage for the chance to save a life.
Today, let’s focus on the hope and heroism that rose from the ashes. Let’s share the stories we’ve heard of God’s provision on that day.
by Roseanna White | Sep 8, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
First, I want to thank everyone who shared their story yesterday of where they were on 9/11. If you haven’t yet, I’d love to hear from you on yesterday’s post. Tomorrow I’ll be asking for folks to share the tales of heroism and miracles they’ve heard–from the small ones like Carissa shared, about her aunt’s alarm not going off that morning, making her late to work at the World Trade Center, to the bigger ones of lives saved against all odds. Tomorrow we’ll feature the hope.
Today I want to talk about attacks.
Last night I had some of the strangest dreams I can ever recall. To give you some context, here’s what’s been on my mind. First, 9/11. Duh, right? Second, one of my books going to committee, likely today. Third, a lot of prayer I’ve been giving to my projects, including this new school year with my kiddo. Fourth, and this will seem insignificant, but bear with me, my internet has been crashing on my laptop.
So. In this crazy dream of mine, I got up in the morning like always and grabbed my laptop. Turned it on, and it booted fine. Then went blank. Just–blank. Not to be daunted, I go through the house turning on lights. The switches are on, nightlights are still glowing, but the overhead lights won’t come on. Weird, but whatever.
Daylight is just beginning to brush the world outside. I hear something and look out the window to find four inches of snow on the ground, but only in the grass. In the driveway is my mother-in-law’s Jeep. And in our yard is . . . a reindeer? Looked like it, but apparently it was a dog. (No clue what that was all about, LOL. Probably from my son’s new obsession with Rudolph.) My MIL gets out of her car with people I’ve never met before, people who look like I imagined Sandi Rog’s neighbors from Holland did (see her comment to yesterday’s post). My husband appears and tells me he’s heading out with them for breakfast. I’m fine with that . . . except the light thing is getting to me. And my computer’s still not working. And I’ve got that feeling at the back of my neck that says someone’s here who shouldn’t be.
While my MIL says something about taking the kids for an hour–which sounds like a great idea, since I don’t want them exposed to whatever-this-is, I start to pray. Only my lips won’t move. My tongue won’t work. Still, I force out the name of Jesus.
The lights come on. My laptop’s screen finally displays what it should.
Content, I send hubby and kids off and try to pull up my book on my computer.
It wigs out again, and the lights again go off. Getting mad now, I storm over to the light switch chanting the name of Jesus and glaring at where I imagine this invisible enemy to be. I won’t be run over. I won’t be torn down. I’m thinking, “You’re only here because you want to stop the good that’s coming today. Well, sorry about your luck. I’m not going to take it.”
I put my hand on the light switch. It was in the off position. I push it up. Something pushes it down. Up. Down. Until once again my swollen tongue wraps itself around the name of the Savior.
That would be when I woke up–pushing at my husband’s back and trying to mumble a prayer, LOL, while he says, “Are you okay?”
Now, I’m not trying to say this dream was anything but that–a dream. But as I lay there trying to get back to sleep and contemplating whether that was my imagination attacking itself or maybe a message that I needed to bathe my day in prayer, I had to look back over other times my dreams have had this note to them.
Here’s the thing. I’ve had fearful dreams before. I’ve had dreams that touch on the spiritual, usually when I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve had dreams where I feel the Spirit descend and wash me in His renewing waters, when that breath of holy wind provides in sleep what I need so much in waking.
This wasn’t like that, not really. There was no fear, just indignation that something would dare do this. And when I woke up, it wasn’t with a pounding heart–it was with a desire to give my day entirely to the Lord.
Contemplating what to blog about today, I realized that in a lot of ways, this is what happened on 9/11, as so many mentioned in the comments yesterday. We were attacked. Yes, it hurt–devastated. Yes, we were afraid.
But we stood up. We fought back. We worked together. We claimed the victory long before it was ours.
Today as we go about our lives, my prayer is that we consider what it means to be attacked, spiritually and physically. That we remember our reactions, that we recollect that helpless feeling we all had, the incredulity that someone would dare do this to us. And that then we cling to the real and true victory–the Savior who already won the battle, and the promise He gave us that we can claim that victory for ourselves by the power of His most holy name, His sacred blood.
Today my crazy dream is going to be a reminder to me not to just take it when the enemy tries to mess with me. Instead, I’m going to stand up and shout the name of Jesus. I’m going to do the work He gave me.
And if someone tries to push me down . . . well, I’m going to push right back.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.