Remember When . . . Brits Rules the World?

I haven’t come across any new, interesting tidbits to pass along from Stray Drop, so I figure I’ll jump back to the 20s. I’m there again in my writing, much to my surprise. The short version of “why?” is that an editor who will probably have to turn down Mafia Princess because it’s too close to another story they just contracted asked if I had anything else to fit their line. Naturally, my response is to wrack my brain until I do. =)

Those of you who have read my stack of finished manuscripts may remember The Stars and the Sands, about archaeologists in Egypt on the path of something that may or may not be Atlantis. Originally, this was a contemporary novel, half of which was set in Princeton. But I have learned since writing it that it just doesn’t work as a contemporary because there’s only, like, one guy allowed to excavate in Egypt these days. But in the 20s . . . well, in the 20s, Great Britain had control of Egypt after WWI, and they weren’t too picky about who dug it up. Works great for me!

I’ve done some research and talked to an archaeologist with some experience in that neck of the woods, and it’s so cool to see everything click into place. When facts actually match my plot, I know I’m onto something good. Something God-inspired.

So anyway, back to my subject (yes, I have one). Starting in the late 1800s, Egypt became a popular tourist destination for wealthy British and Americans. Gentlemen thought it fun to go poke around in the dirt and see what they could find–then take their loot home with them.

When the gold-laden tomb of King Tut was discovered in 1922, this became more popular than ever. Everyone wanted something Egyptian, Egyptian styled jewelry became all the rage . . . and can you imagine the frustration of the few actual scientists trying to excavate? All these tourists poking around, asking to take their most important finds home with them.

Perfect insight into my hero, eh? I’m having a blast with all these new facts!

Story Time Twists

My reading time has all but disappeared in the last couple weeks, so rather than delve into the shelves of books I’ve already read for a blog topic, I figure I’ll talk about stories in general today.

I’ll credit my husband for inspiring this particular topic. Last night we were watching House and he said something like, “Okay, so it’s not disease A. What presents as disease A but isn’t?” Then he growled and said, “See, this is the thing about this show. I have no clue about this stuff, so I can’t answer the questions, but it’s still fun.”

You must keep in mind that this is the same man who will watch NCIS with his eye on the clock. By 8:30 he will take account of all the characters we’ve seen thus far and come up with his whodunit. Let it be noted that 95% of the time he’s right . . . even if he’s not sure why until a twist bring it all to light.

See, for my honey, it’s all about the problem solving. Figuring it out. Me, I just like to watch and wonder and wait. That’s the fun of a good TV show for me–sitting back and letting it come.

I’m slightly more proactive when reading, though I think it’s not necessarily that I try to figure it out–more that I understand book plots enough to be able to. But boy do I love those unexpected twists. I just had one of those in The Familiar Stranger last night (which I hadn’t quite finished when I blogged about it last week). One of those “Wow. Didn’t see that one coming” thing. I love those. I love that shock, that gasp, and then the following “Oh . . . that’s why that thing was in there earlier!”

I think we all love a good twist. I also think our personalities emerge as we see them, just as they do when we get one in life. My hubby’s the type to want to figure out whatever gets thrown at him, to make sense of it and use it. I’m the type to wait and see what happens.

Gotta love when our dealings with fiction teaches us about ourselves!

Modern . . . College

I went to a tiny little college in Annapolis, MD, where we studied original texts by the great thinkers of Western civilization (St. John’s College–the picture above is one of the classrooms there). Everything from Homer and Plato and Aristotle up through Marx and Neitche and Austen (a strange collection to group together in that list, eh?). I love my college. I loved the experience. I loved the reading. But I gotta say . . . I also feel that the fact that college has become all but required of people strikes me as a bad thing.

My best friend Stephanie opted to focus on her writing career instead of heading to college, and I’m really impressed with her for that. It allowed her to spend time with her craft, to help out her dad at his company, and to really focus her life. (I mean, let’s face it. How many study toward a degree in a field that end up not entering??) I think she made a great decision, and I applaud her for that.

In Yesterday’s Tides, which my agent just sent out on Friday (prayers, please!), my main character got pregnant at 16 and made the choice to get her GED and then give up on dreams of college to raise the twins. This happened 9 years before the first page of the book. So while we don’t see that decision, we see the results of it. To the world, she probably looks like a failure. She does handiwork, she cleans the church.

And she’s there every day to get her kids off the bus.

This decision she made is a crucial part of her character, and we see its many manifestations as the story unfolds. She could have done it all–raised the kids, finished school, gone on to higher education. There are those women who do, and who manage it all well. They’re an inspiration, because they have a dream they fight for.

And isn’t that what college should be? The means to a dream? A dream itself? Why has it become obligatory? My character made a different decision, and she has never regretted it. Because her dream was for family. Why does the world judge that as less important?

My Friend . . . Christina Berry

My Friend . . . Christina Berry

During my first writers conference back in ’07, I was standing around waiting for class to start one day and struck up a conversation with a mother/daughter writing team in front of me–Christina Berry and Sherry Ashcroft. Though I met a lot of people there, these ladies stuck in my mind. I was pregnant, and Christina shared her pregnancy stories too, so maybe that’s why I remembered her face and name. Or maybe it’s because her joy in the Lord practically radiates from her.

For whatever reason, I’ve kept Christina in my htoughts and prayers over the years, so I was eager to help when she announced her debut novel, The Familiar Stranger, was coming out from Moody Press in September of 2009. Go, Christina! She was the second place winner with this story in the Genesis contest, a testament to the attention the contest can bring you. And when I started reading her book, I didn’t have to wonder why she did so well.

I didn’t get to start The Familiar Stranger until conference this year. I opened the first page, made a few observations. The first word? His. Chapter heading sort of thing to tell you whose point of view you’re in. Naturally, the other option is Hers. I loved this from the get-go. Then I read the first page and said something like, “Wooooowwwww.” She totally captured the male mindset, right down to the sarcasm. I could totally hear it, totally put myself into the mind of her hero. And as I turned the page . . .

My roommate came in. LOL. Stephanie looked at what I was reading and said, “Oo, I can’t wait to read that. Is it good?”

I often hate it when people ask that question when I’ve been reading for all of thirty seconds, but this time I didn’t mind at all. “The first page is awesome!” I told her.

It wasn’t until later that night that I got to read more, but my exclamation after the first chapter was pretty amazed too. “Oh my gosh!” I announced to Stephanie. “I think this guy’s going to try to fake his own death!”

Kept reading . . . got to the stuff on the back cover. Craig (hero) is in a debilitating car accident that leaves him seriously injured and with retrograde amnesia. His wife, who has been wondering if their marriage is in serious danger, rushes to his side and prays that somehow this will draw them closer. And it does–except for all those unanswered questions. Obviously there are lies between them. But can they overcome them?

You don’t think I’m going to tell you, do you? Ha! No, you’re just going to have to open up this awesome book yourself and see. I promise you won’t regret it. Christina is a talented writer, and she confesses that she pulled a lot of the feeling from her own life–a marriage on the rocks that got better only to end without warning.

Yet still Christina radiates the Joy of the Lord, and it’s so clear from a minute of talking to her that this is one woman excited about what God might have in store for her. Her tagline, Live Transparently–Forgive Extravagently sums it up rather well, doesn’t it? I was so glad to get to talk to her and hug her again in Denver, and it’s my prayer that this book takes off and establishes a reputation she totally deserves as a writer and a person.

Thoughtful About . . . My Family

Yesterday a couple things happened. Though I spent my free-time de-adverbing Yesterday’s Tides so that it can go out to the editors who requested it today (I’m addicted to adverbs, I swear), I spent the rest of my day with family.

For starters, my awesome and gorgeous cousin Andrea came to visit in the morning. We were always close as kids, though we saw each other only twice a year or so, but it’s been approximately forever since we’ve seen each other. So it was very cool to hug her again, and she now has a daughter who’s two, so the kids could all play together. Or play in the same room anyway, lol.

I also received the first solid proof that Rowyn, a.k.a. Mr. Independence, did indeed miss me while I was gone. He didn’t seem fazed when I left him at my mom’s for an hour on Tuesday to take Xoe to Story Time, and he hasn’t been extra-clingy or anything since I got back. But yesterday afternoon I needed to run to the market and he was still napping. So David stayed home with him, and I took Xoe with me. When we got home, he was up and looked thrilled to see me walk through the door. He sat on my lap for, like, an hour. Followed me everywhere I went. Kept giving me hugs and kisses.

Not. Normal. Wonderful, but not normal. And it occurred to me that the last time he woke up and Mama wasn’t here, I’d been gone for days. So it was great to see his gladness that this was NOT the case this time.

And for the record, after about a millennium of editing, I did indeed get the adverbs cut down in my manuscript, and it should be winging its way across email to various editors’ inboxes today. So anyone with a prayer to spare, feel free to apply it to that! And now, let the waiting begin . . .