Thoughtful About . . . Where Are We Now?

Yesterday as my best friend Stephanie Morrill and I were chatting about my schedule, I earned a “Whoa! You’re making my head spin. Can you believe it wasn’t that long ago that you were like, ‘I need direction! I have no idea what to work on next!’?”
Definitely not a problem right now, LOL. My schedule is full (over-full, some might say), and though there’s room for some moving-around and improvising, for the first time in my life I’m writing books sold on proposal, under deadline.
Thank you, Lord, that it’s almost summer! That will at least take home school off my daily schedule. Around here we’re very much looking forward to finishing up those last couple weeks of school. =) We have an end-of-the-year party coming up with some of the other little ones from Xoe’s home school group, to make it an extra-special end.
Also this summer, we’ll be getting ready for a move. Not far, just back to the West Virginia side of our area, nearer our parents. Pretty exciting. =) And of course, I’ve got a lot of writing on my summer’s plate.
Where are you right now, as we near the end of the school year? Hard at work? Ready for a summer rest? Are you writers already planning which, if any, conferences you’ll be going to. Are you readers making a list of books to wile away the summer with? I’d love to hear what you’re getting into now!
(Sorry I’m not offering any brilliance or insight today, LOL–I’m still fighting off the cold I got almost two weeks ago, and right now my eyes are puffy and my head aching. This is about all I could manage!)

Thoughtful About . . . Blinders

Blinders–we all wear them. Those things that keep us from seeing things, or at least from seeing them clearly. With horses, they’re used to keep the animals on track, to keep them from getting distracted. But for us? Hmm . . .
I often find myself with blinders in relation to my writing, especially when I’ve been working hard on a project. In those times, we tend to get too close, too involved. We go cross-eyed. What do you expect when you read through the same three chapters eight times in two days, right? I was just there last week with a proposal I was readying for my agent. “It’s probably rough,” I told her, though I honestly couldn’t be sure. “I can’t really see it at this point.”
Then there’s my house. I can honestly say that after something has been in the same place for a week or so, I just don’t see it anymore–even if that means it never gets puts away, LOL. This is why the mess remains so long here. Mommy just doesn’t pay attention. And the others in my family are even worse about this so . . .
The cure for blinders, in my experience, is distance. After a week or two or away from a project (a month is even better), I can evaluate weak spots and strong spots. I can see where work needs to be done. (In the case of this particular proposal, my agent acted as the distance, showing me where to tweak and otherwise assuring me that, whether I could see it or not, it was ready to be sent.) 
The same goes for my house. After a few days away, I come in and go, “Hey, why is that still sitting there? I should put that away . . .” I can see what I haven’t been able to see. Where I need to work. What I need to do.
But what about me? See, I can never get distance from myself, LOL. I can’t take any time away from me. So how do I clear my vision and know where I stand? How can I know where to improve?
It’s tough–and not a new problem. I’ve been reading through the Gospels (just finished the fourth one last week), so I’ve seen over and again all those occasions where Jesus has to call somebody out. Ever stop and really think about the Pharisees? Wonder why they couldn’t just see what He was trying to tell them?
I’ve got to think it might have something to do with this same phenomena. They’d been doing things the same way forever. Had things in the same places. And even if those places were wrong, they were too involved, too much inside it to notice. It took Someone new coming along to point it out.
We can’t get distance from ourselves, no–but we can find some quiet. Some distance from the rest of the world that might be influencing or overwhelming us. We can have some communion with our Lord and say, “Show me, Father. Show me where I am and what I need.”
I can see, right now, what I need in terms of work, in terms of housekeeping (a maid would be nice, LOL)–but as for me? Well, there are the obvious places where I have, ahem, room for improvement. But my prayer today is that Lord shows us each what we really need. That He shows us where we’re strong and where we’re weak. That He whispers His truth in our ear and gives us the ears to hear it. And that doesn’t just mean pointing out where we need to change–sometimes it also means having our eyes opened to where we’re really doing well.
See, blinders don’t just keep us from seeing the truth of what’s bad. Sometimes they can keep us from seeing what we’re doing right too.
Where are yours today?

Thoughtful About . . . Those Twisty Paths

Last night the semi-finalists of the Genesis Contest (for unpublished authors) were announced. On Monday, the nominees for the Christy (Christian Fiction’s most prestigious award) went public. And as award season gets into full swing, I imagine we’ll see many more lists of potential winners and the results themselves.
I know quite a few of my readers are writers, so I wanted to talk about this today. And if you’re not a writer, you’ve presumably been in competition over something at some point or another, so it should still be relevant for you. 😉
I’ve been blessed with the fulfillment of my dream–I get to write for a living. I’m certainly not bringing in enough to support a family right now, but as a part-time job for a stay at home mom who’s home schooling, it’s a pretty sweet deal. =) So I have what I’d deem success–success defined as doing what I love. And hey, even getting paid for it! LOL
But I’ve never in my life won a writing contest. Never. Never even finaled in one. Even back in the day of short story contests against other middle schoolers, the best I ever did was Honorable Mention. Yet it was my thing. And I was the unquestioned Best at everything in school; valedictorian, first chair clarinetist, drum major . . . and I knew I was a good writer. I knew it, and my teachers all made a point of telling me so.
And yet . . .
A couple years ago I entered the Genesis contest. It was the only unpublished contest I’d ever entered (or have ever), and I entered with very high hopes. They didn’t publicize semi-finalists that year, just finalists, and I saw all the emails from my friends who finaled appeared on my historical list when they got their Call. I sat there, with the phone by my computer. I hoped, and I prayed, and I told myself it was okay, no matter what. That it didn’t determine anything about who I was.
Then when the list went up (absent my name), I went outside and let myself cry for five minutes.
I wanted there to be some reason to it. So when my agent, a week later, submitted the book I’d entered to an editor who really liked it, I got hopeful. See, we couldn’t have submitted had it still been in the contest. But that would have been perfect poetic justice! I could see myself now, winning the published contest instead of the unpublished, going up to make my speech . . .
The book was too like another the line had already contracted, so the editor passed.
I never had another chance at Genesis, because A Stray Drop of Blood came out, and Jewel of Persia after that. Right around then I emailed that editor who liked that book I’d entered, to follow up with a question I’d asked a while before, and she said, “Have you checked in with our other editor? She has Annapolis penciled in.””
Whhhhh….aaaaaa…..ttttt?
Did that Genesis-rejected submission bear fruit after all, by winning over another editor at this house, one who could champion me as a writer when Editor 2 brought Annapolis to committee? Maybe . . . maybe . . . who knows? But what I can tell you is that Annapolis was published soon after that.
Of course, now I’m in the realm of published contests. I now know nothing of mine that came out in 2011 was nominated for a Christy, which was no big surprise (though it would have been nice!). There are only two other contests I’d entered, and we’ll see how those go. Am I hopeful? Well yes, a bit.
But you know what? I’m also finally getting to the point where I just don’t care about wins. In part because I learned that one of my all-time favorite authors, Francine Rivers, will not enter a contest and requests her publishers not enter any on her behalf. She’d walked that road while in the ABA and refused to walk it again when she moved to CBA. And I really admire that.
I haven’t gotten any clear direction to avoid contests, and having an “award-winning” before my name would certainly be nice (although I’d be just as happy–even happier!–with “best-selling” LOL), but as I look back on this stuff this week, I have to wonder if I ever will win. Not because of what I write, but because of who I am. Because I’m a competitive person, and staying humble is something I have to focus on to achieve. Because God knows way better than I how I might handle a big win . . . and maybe He doesn’t want that for me.
Is this a lesson in humility for me? Could be, wouldn’t be surprised. But more, there’s a lesson for me about focus and determination. My goal cannot be to write a book that wins awards–it must be to write a book that wins hearts. My determination must be to keep on the path I’ve been set upon no matter how many twists of disappointment, not to keep walking only when flower petals are showering down upon me.
When I was in high school, my cross-country coach had a saying: If it were easy, everybody would be doing it.
Mr. Brown’s wisdom can apply to pretty much anything worth working at, can’t it? It isn’t easy, this thing you’ve been called to do. It has its moments of triumph when you finally cross that finish line, but it also has a lot of moments along the way when you step in a dip and twist your ankle, when a stray tree branch smacks you in the arm, when you can’t seem to draw in enough air to keep those sides from stitching.
No, it isn’t easy. But something else Mr. Brown passed along that will always stick with me is that verse that perfectly sums up both my writing story and this running analogy–we have an Author. We have a Finisher, a Perfecter–and it isn’t us, you know. I might write a book, but I don’t write my own story.
That’s for Him.
I might enter a few contests, but I don’t determine where I finish.
That’s for Him.
And I don’t look at those awards as any kind of goal to reach, not anymore.
That’s for Him.
But I don’t give up. I will run with endurance. And just like with cross country (at which I was never any good, let it be noted, LOL), those races won’t be about winning. They’ll be about growing.
Let us run with endurance this race that is set before us; looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.
If you entered the Genesis and indulged in a few moments of tears last night, chin up. And look at me–I didn’t final and was published before quite a few folks who did. And if you did end up on that semi-finalist list, big congratulations! I have friends whose publishing doors were opened by that. 
Just know that, no matter where you end up this contest season, your story is your own, between you and God. Win or lose, He knows how to get you where you’re going. And He knows what you need–and what you don’t–along the way.
Thoughtful About . . . Design

Thoughtful About . . . Design

As long as I’ve been writing, I’ve been drawing. Back in primary school, whenever I wrote a story I’d illustrate it. Princesses and bunnies and unicorns, singing flowers . . . yep. The norm. 😉 When I started on novels in middle school, I always tried to draw my characters and would play around with sketching book cover designs.
I’m not the artist my sister is, but it wasn’t about that–it was about making a visual for myself. Something to look at, something to inspire me. It’s why I’m liking Pinterest, and it’s also why I’ve been playing a lot over the last year or two with digital design. Am I a rock star at it? No. But I’m learning. And I’m having so much fun!
I’ve started handling the covers for WhiteFire titles, and it’s been like a treat. Gives a break to the word-crafting part of my brain but still lets me be creative. Everyone by now probably knows I designed Sandi Rog’s Walks Alone. I’m also doing Christine Lindsay’s second British Raj (can’t show ya yet because we haven’t done the photo shoot, but plugging in the perfect model shot will be a breeze). And I just tossed together one for our first contemporary that turned out really well. (Haven’t bought the images yet, so no sharing that one either, LOL.)
So last week when Harvest House sent me a cover questionnaire for Ring of Secrets, I was pretty giddy. I love this stuff! I got to answer questions about what my characters look like and provide links to images that match what I had in mind. I got to explain the fashion of the day, the setting, the time period. I even got to give them ideas for cover design!! Will they use those ideas? Eh, who knows. But I certainly had fun sharing my thoughts, and my editor had fun reading them and browsing the fashion sites I’d linked to. =)
Yep, in my mind this cover stuff, the images, the sketches are as enjoyable as writing. Well, for the hour or two they take, LOL. I wouldn’t want to do it all day, but I’ve discovered that it fulfills a need for me. Lets me flex my little brain in new ways and create something that I can see, right away. So much fun. And it leads to a book cover. Which is, hands down, one of the best moments of publishing. Opening up that file for the first time and going, “Wow. There she is. My baby. And oh, isn’t she lovely!”
Eagerly awaiting that moment with Ring of Secrets. Must be patient, must be patient, must be patient . . . =)

Thoughtful About . . . Dread of the Cross

We’re doing a study of the cross at church, and last week as we discussed how Jesus knew all his life where he was headed, knew that he was to be the Servant talked about in Isaiah 53, the one that would justify the world.
He knew, always knew, that he would have to die. And not just die, but die for out sins.
Today is Maundy Thursday (just looked up Maundy, which means “Last Supper,” go figure), the day Jesus and his disciples gathered in that upper room for the Passover meal. My church will be having a messianic seder this evening, as a matter of fact. Jesus shed new meaning on the old ritual that night, didn’t he? He offered new interpretations of what they’d all done every year forever. He opened their eyes to the fact that he was fulfilling parts of the ceremony that were prophecy.
He washed their feet, showing what a Servant should do. He gave them a new commission, a new commandment.
Then he went out to the garden to pray.
That prayer–wow. It’s the most heart-wrenching, gut-twisting prayer in the gospels to me. He knows exactly what’s coming. He knows why it’s coming. And he dreads it. So much that he asks the Father to take this cup from him, if it’s possible. But above all, he wants the will of God.
Though I’ve dwelt on this prayer a lot, I’d never before questioned why he wanted the cup taken from him. It makes perfect sense, after all. Right? Who would want to go to the cross? Who wouldn’t pray to be saved from such an agonizing death, if there were another way to achieve the same ends?
But a new thought occurred to me this weekend. Was it the death Jesus dreaded so? The physical pain, those terrible hours?
Or was it the sin he dreaded?
See, it wasn’t just that Jesus knew the “what” of what was coming–it had a purpose. And pain with purpose is easier to face. We can go through birth because we know it’s how a baby enters the world. People jump in front of moving cars if it saves the child they push out of the way. So the pain . . . yes, I’m sure it gave Jesus pause.
But what really causes Jesus pain? What makes his heart twist throughout the gospels? What always seems to get to him most?
Sin. Separation from the Father. 
Think about it. All his life, Jesus has been blameless. Sinless. Perfect. And that is a big part of why he’s one with God. There’s nothing to separate them. He can approach the throne even from earth, because he has done no wrong to keep him away.
But the cross, to Jesus, wouldn’t just represent false punishment or torture. He knew well that when he took that punishment, he was the sacrificial lamb. He was taking the sins. 
And oh, the sins. Can you imagine looking, in a few short hours, at every single sin in history? Every…single…sin. The lies and betrayals, the murders and rapes–piled on his shoulders. The infidelities and idolatries, the outright worship of Satan and demons–all on him. He, who had never once sinned, whose heart grieved whenever he saw a sin in us, would be under that weight. All that weight. Guilty, in that moment, of the most heinous crimes. Guilty of blaspheming the Father he loved above all. Guilty of everything. Everything.
That, I think, is what made him sweat blood in the garden. That is what made him say, “Father, must I? Is there no other way?” That, far more than physical agony, is the pain that Jesus feared. After all, it could have been any kind of death, right? And it would have sufficed. The sacrifice didn’t require a cross.
But I daresay Jesus still would have prayed that prayer, even if facing a lethal injection. Not because of the physical, not because of the death.
Because of the sin. 
Thank you, Jesus, for facing that unfathomable, crushing mountain of weight upon your shoulders for me. Thank you for taking my sins on yourself that day so long ago. Thank you for loving me so much that you faced it, even knowing it would mean the agony of separation from your Father. You did it so that I might draw near to Him.
Never can I thank you enough for that. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.
Thoughtful About . . . Par-tay!

Thoughtful About . . . Par-tay!

“An original writer is not one who imitates nobody, but one whom nobody can imitate.” ~ Francois Rene Chateaubriand

Last Friday my friends and family surprised me with a celebration for me and my books, and it was such a fun party, filled with such beautiful elements, that I just have to share. =)
My day had been dedicated to cleaning. I pulled on a shirt I’d just found shoved between two others in my closet, which I’d been looking for for months–the one my best friend sent me for my birthday a year and a half ago, that says “Reading Is Sexy.” Oh yeah, that’s me. LOL. Then I got down to business. I dusted. I straightened. I swept. I scrubbed. All with the knowledge that doing so would make my sciatica shoot pain all through my back and hips that night. It always, always does. See, this is why I don’t clean! 😉
“Imagination and fiction make up more than three-quarters of our real life.” ~ Simone Weil
As David was headed out to run an errand, he paused at the door to say, “Hey, think about if you’d like to go to dinner tonight or something. I could use a good dinner and a nice glass of wine.”
Me, giving him The Look. “Honey, do I ever pass up going out to dinner?”
David: “Well, think about where you’d like to go. Someplace where we can sit back and relax.”
Which meant not fast-food–got it. I got back to work, scrubbing etc. And luckily started to get a headache in late afternoon, which prompted me to take some ibuprofen–something I otherwise never think to do for other pain, though I’m pretty sure that’s what saved me from hobbling around all evening going, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”
“The creative person is flexible–he is able to change as the situation changes, to break habits, to face indecision and changes in conditions without undue stress. He is not threatened by the unexpected as rigid, inflexible people are.” ~ Frank Goble
Round about 5, I started looking at the clock. David was on the phone (not an unusual occurrence) but he hadn’t mentioned anything else about dinner. Did I need to cook? I assumed not. I’m good at that assumption. 😉 Eventually he came up to shower. Xoe asked if I’d put Egyptian eyes on her with my eyeliner–sure, why not!–so I slapped some makeup on myself as well and said, “I guess I should change out of my t-shirt.” Though I didn’t. Not until David was headed back downstairs to “take care of a few more things” (insert my stomach going “No! Grrrrrooooowwwwwllllll.”) and said, “Are you ready? I thought you were going to change. Maybe Mommy could match Xoe.”
Xoe liked that idea and pulled me up the stairs to try to match her cute little shirt and skirt. I obligingly changed, then was informed that my mother-in-law thought she left her wallet at the church earlier, so we had to stop over and check before we went to dinner. (Church being two minutes from our house.) Okay. Nothing unusual there, LOL. So we headed to the church.
“None of us will ever accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when he listens to this whisper which is heard by him alone.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
And I saw the cars. Which made me think, “Hmm, the 4-H club must be doing something. But their night is Thursday, not Friday. I wonder what . . . is that Mom and Dad’s car? What in the world are they doing here?” Then the car in front of us pulled in and proved to be my neighbors growing up. I sent David another Look and said, “What’s going on?”
David said, “I don’t know. Go in and see.”
Riiiiiiiight. That’s when I knew what was happening. Still, I was shocked beyond shocked when I opened the door and saw two of my out-of-town friends there with their kids!
All around the room, in addition to the amazing friends and family who had come to celebrate with me, including my high school cross-country coach, those out-of-towners, and several others who had cheered me on all my life but I rarely see anymore, were decorations that proved how well my mom and sister knew me. My sister’s school had donated some books that were in terrible shape and so could be cut up, so decorations were all made from or around book pages.
“A great book should leave you with many experiences and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading it.” ~ William Styron
There were pages cut into leaf-shapes all over, sometimes attached to brown-paper trees, or to my mom’s cute little twig arrangement, and also scattered on the tables. (And yes, I’m such a dork that I sat there eating and trying to figure out which book they might have come from by reading the 4-words I could see per line, LOL.) And of course, the calla lily arrangement. =)
My sister had also found a bunch of quotes on books/writers that she’d printed and matted and put on the walls. (Those would be the things I’m quoting here.) So awesome! Even the cakes were books!
“Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.” ~ Rudyard Kipling
It was a fabulous party, and I had such a great time hanging out with my friends and family and being amazed that they had all gone to such trouble for me. So a huge, big thanks to everyone who came. The hugest, biggest thanks to Mom and Jen for planning such a perfect-for-me party. And for all my writers friends, take notes on those decorations!! They so make the perfect book party! =)
“These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves.” ~ Gilbert Highet

I had a few moments of surreal euphoria when I looked around and saw my book covers, my books, my titles on the walls. Was this real? Did I really have that many books on or destined for the shelves? Hard to believe. And while I’m certainly not famous or best-selling or anything like that, I’m living my dream. And that is just a blessing beyond what any words can ever express.

“Success comes to a writer, as a rule, so gradually that it is always something of a shock to him to look back and realize the heights to which he has climbed.” ~ P.G. Wodehouse