by Roseanna White | Sep 1, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
WhiteFire Publishing has had the privilege of putting together four different covers now–and I have to say, they have all been amazing. We’re getting ready to put our fifth out, Walks Alone by Sandi Rog, and I’m totally psyched. Why? Because whereas before the photoshoot for the cover models was done too far away for me to have a hand in it, this time my niece Jayna got to play the part, and I got to direct the shoot. =)
We started with an amazing costume created for us by Jordan of the
Heavenly Princess blog. This an 1870 traveling dress, made from some of the most exquisite wool I’ve ever touched. Jordan did a truly awe-inspiring job–check out those pleats! And the piping!! And the detail!!
So after she sent us instructions on how in the world to put all this stuff on (complete with Victorian undergarments, of course), we set to work on my beautiful niece, Jayna.
I’d like to say what a great sport Jayna was. Though she seemed rather dubious about the very idea of a corset, she let us lace her into one and sat there placidly in it while we did her hair and makeup. My sister Jennifer played makeup artist, but getting her hair up was a two-person job. (Just for the record, we didn’t cinch her waist that small–she’s just tiny, LOL.)
After her beautiful face was perfect, we went about the process of getting the dress on her–quite the process! In the make-up shot she’s in chemise and corset. Yet to come was bustle pad, petticoat, jacket, and skirt. NOT a quick process! LOL. Then we chose some accessories, all there courtesy of my vintage-collecting mother-in-law. We were all fully in love with this hat, and boy am I glad I remembered to have my MIL bring over some gloves! The carpet bag, an important part of the story, was also the perfect touch, and matched the dress so beautifully!
We had a blast with the shoot, getting 700 shots, 500 of which were pure gold. You can view a selection of 10 of them in my
Facebook gallery. (That’s a public link to it, so you can view it even if you’re not my friend on Facebook.)
The results were stunning, we had a blast doing it, and now comes the next fun part–the creation of the cover itself. Here’s our first mock-up. Fonts of title etc. might change, but we’re loving the basic design. And it was so fun getting to see it all come together!
by Roseanna White | Aug 25, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
As I wrote up the posts about the fun time I had in Oregon, picking and choosing what I ought to share and what I ought not, it got me thinking about a few things of the utmost importance to all of us–and how to balance them.
The first, as my post’s title would indicate, is encouragement. Encouragement is one of the most important parts of faith–the thing that edifies us, that builds us up. Encouragement is born of love and respect, either in a general form or a more familiar one. And I gotta say, it’s one of the biggest blessings on my life.
Writing can be a very solitary endeavor, and after years and years of it, you start to wonder about your own work. I once thought myself an amazing writer–then I learned all I’d done wrong. So I set about relearning, honing the craft, and in a lot of ways starting over. I’ve never quite been able to shake the uncertainty that came with that epiphany. Which is good–I needed a good dose of humility (more on that in a bit, LOL). But it also means that whenever I know someone is reading one of my books, I’m nervous. Wondering if they’ll love it, hate it, or give it a resounding “meh.” (Which may be the worst of the three.)
Because I’m so acutely aware of my own need for encouragement, I will always, always try to offer some to other writers, even if I don’t necessarily like their work. They still put a lot of time and effort into it, and my tastes are hardly the end-all, be-all. In Oregon, one of the ladies who had an appointment with me sat down looking totally dejected. Overwhelmed. Close to tears. So rather than just invite her to launch into her pitch, I talked to her first. Asked her some questions about her experience thus far. Then listened to her tell me about her book. And before I looked at a word she’d written, before I knew if she was the next big thing or destined to shove the manuscript in a drawer forever more, I gave her the words the Lord had placed in my heart before this conference–that He does not discourage, ever. He corrects, He reshapes, and sometimes that’s painful. But He never, ever discourages. I really, truly hope that I gave her a measure of the encouragement that I received from others last week.
And encouragement I received by the bucketful. From the other authors who had read
A Stray Drop of Blood or
Jewel of Persia and took the time to tell me how much they liked it to feedback from agents and editors who had read my work-in-progress–I was floating through much of the conference. Yet with every praise, I felt a pang of caution. It would be easy to let the good stuff go to my head, and brag about it all over creation. But I still remember where that lack-of-humility landed me.
Nowhere.
It’s a strange balance we have to strike. Encouraging others is entirely necessary, and receiving it ourselves can do the work of the Lord. But we then have to careful that we don’t use it to do our own work instead. Encouragement builds us up–but the building must belong to Him.
I think it’s important to have those moments of excitement, and to have those people we can share them with. But I never want to forget that when encouragement rests on someone’s opinion, you can bet the opposite opinion is out there too. I cling to positive feedback, and I incorporate it prayerfully into my life. But I have to incorporate the negative too.
So as we all journey from our valleys to our mountaintops and back again, let’s keep the balance in mind. Let’s find ways to pull up our brothers and sisters when they’re headed downward. And when we’re on the top, riding high, feeling great, full of encouragement, maybe that’s when we’ve got so much to spare that we ought to share it with those around us. Spill it onto them, as I’ve mentioned before.
It’ll do good for those around us, then. And also keep us from focusing too much on ourselves.
by Roseanna White | Aug 11, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Though I don’t have organizational skills that would wow anyone, I’m a planner. A goal-setter. And someone who doesn’t often budge on those goals. When I say I’ll have a book to the 75% mark by August 14, for instance, I do whatever it takes to hit that point in the manuscript. (I’ve only got 4K more to write by Sunday to be there, which is totally doable, LOL.) When I say I’ll be somewhere at a certain time, I refuse to be late. When I say I’ll help someone with something, that then goes ahead of my other tasks on the to-do list.
In general, I think this is a fine character trait. 😉 But this week I’ve also been very aware of its drawbacks. See, sometimes I’m so set on meeting my goals and getting to that oh-so-important future point that I forget to enjoy where I am.
With only a few days left until I leave for the OCW Conference in Oregon, for which I’ll be gone through Thursdsay, I’m keenly aware of how long I’ll be away from my kids and hubby. And I’m already geared up to miss them. So I’ve been gathering extra hugs and kisses, extra cuddles and quality time.
It’s been a balancing act, even more than usual. Usually I have my set work times, and I expect my kids to respect them. They don’t, LOL, but I let myself insist on that half hour in the morning and those two hours during naptime. Other times of day I certainly try to squeeze in five minutes at my computer here and there, but it’s totally common for a kiddo (or two) to be on my lap or asking for help, or requesting I come outside “because you gotta SEE this!” But this week, much as I want (okay, I think it actually classifies as a “need” for my personality type) to get to that 75% mark in my manuscript, I really want (and definitely need) to stock up on the kiddo-time.
It’s made me think a lot about how I approach each moment. Yes, I want to walk for exercise. But you know, it’s so fun to stop every three feet to jump rope with my daughter. Yes, I wanted to answer that email. But there’s nothing quite like cuddling my son for those first 20 minutes after he gets up from his nap, when all he wants to do is sit on my lap and suck his thumb.
Sometimes I’m so focused on what must be done next (bath time, book time, bed time) that I forget to fully enjoy what is. Sometimes I’m so distracted by what I didn’t get finished that I can be grumpy during my family time. But this week, I’ve been very aware of how much fun my kids are, and how much I’ll miss their silliness next week. This week, I’ve been working hard during work time and savoring each moment of play.
I’m going to do my best to extend that aspect of this week into the future.
Today I have my mother-in-law taking the kids to the park for a few hours so I can pack some solid work into the morning. Part of me feels guilty about losing those couple hours with them–but then, I think it’s better to send them out to have fun than to have to plop them in front of the TV while I prepare my suitcase. And as always, it’s part of the balancing game. I know well that I’ll savor the other moments more once I’ve gotten some of my other looming tasks out of the way.
There are never any easy answers for balancing a home-based career with your kids (or ANY career with your kids). But I’m trying to be aware, not just of the amount of time I’m with them, but with the quality of the time. And I’m laughing a lot, smiling a lot, and cuddling a lot.
Goals are great. Keeping them is important. But sometimes you’ve just gotta live in the moment.
by Roseanna White | Aug 4, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
I have a family of drivers. My husband goes for drives to clear his head. My sister was one of those kids who begged her way behind the wheel on our farm vehicles as soon as she could see over it. My mother-in-law has a list of dream-cars. My dad is the proud owner of a truck, an SUV (okay, this one’s my mom’s), a Harley, and a four-wheeler. All these folks will jockey for a chance to drive whatever new vehicle joins the family. They love it.
Me? I’d rather being in the passenger’s seat, or on the back of the four-wheeler. At the end of the boat (not that we have a boat, but when we’ve been on others’) staring into the wake. Feeling the wind on my face but able to look off into nowhere for my enjoyment. Watching the scenery go by. Ignoring the traffic.
I drive–when I must. I love the freedom of being able to, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate and am thankful for my car, so much so that every car in my family gets a name. Our car now is Xander, our Jeep is Bartok. I’ve also had a Sparky and a Snowball. And yeah, I have a list of dream-cars too. But when we go out as a family, there’s never any question of who will drive. The keys go to David. The daydreaming goes to me.
The other night I hopped on the back of my dad’s four-wheeler to go over to the farm, and said, “Wow, this is my first ride on this.” I used to ride on my neighbor’s all the time, but I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed it.
Dad replied, “It’s really easy. Look–drive, reverse. Gas, brake.”
Me: “Mmm hmmm. . . ” Ah, wind in my face! And look how green the fields are, stretching out until they meet the river, the mountains rising up . . . What a beautiful place I grew up in. What an amazing world God has crafted.
On the way back, Dad asked, “Wanna drive?”
Now, if you asked my 3-year-old this, he would probably say yes, LOL. But me, I just climbed on the back again and said, “Nope.”
And I spent the two-minute ride back trying to figure out why. It’s not that I dislike driving, per se. I certainly am not afraid to try it, I know it would be easy. And I can understand why folks get a thrill out of being in control of the motor that’s taking them from here to there.
But more important to me is seeing what I can see while going someplace. Having the freedom to ignore the musts of gas and break and traffic, of potholes and bumps, and focus on the ifs.
I think it comes down to being a dreamer. I’d rather experience from the backseat and try to imagine what the driver’s feeling than actually do the driving–because then I’m too busy doing to absorb. I’d rather sit on the sidelines and watch the game than play, because I can both see the moves and the expressions on the faces, I can learn the rules and create a story around them.
Obviously there are exceptions to this, things I’d rather do than watch. But I sometimes find it funny when everyone keeps pushing me to try something, and I just have to smile and say, “No, really. I don’t want to. I like it here.” I do wonder, occasionally, if this is a failing of mine . . . but you know, so far I don’t think I’ve really missed out by staying in the passenger’s seat most of the time.
I still go all the places the driver does . . . but I see a lot more along the way. =)
by Roseanna White | Jul 28, 2011 | Remember When Wednesdays, Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Confession time: I am not, by nature, the type to accept critique. Maybe (and I’m guess here) it has to do with the fact that back in grade school I was always the one at the top of the class. The one who was always right, who the teachers used as an example. I got accustomed to being the best. And when you think you’re the best, it’s pretty easy to ignore advice from lesser mortals. 😉
In high school, I remember when my AP English teacher was talking to us about constructive criticism. I understood the theory, obviously, but I recall thinking something like, “Yeah, but it never feels constructive. It feels like you saying you’re right and I’m wrong.” Have I mentioned I didn’t like being wrong? LOL.
When it came to my writing, I tended to do it for myself. I had eight books completed by the time I finished college, and only let close friends and family read them. There were quite a few times when I’d ask for advice about a certain aspect of the story, or on where to cut to get my word count down.
And nearly every one of those times, I’d ignore whatever advice came in. Think something along the lines of, “What do you know? This isn’t your story.” And do it my way.
I’m not sure when it happened exactly, but I finally realize that, in fact, it is the reader’s story. And so I need to write it for them, not for me. Which means I need to know what they need. What they think. What needs to be changed. And so I consider myself blessed to have critique partners and editors who offer criticism–the kind that really is constructive.
Last Tuesday afternoon, I got my second round of edits on
Annapolis. The editor, in her email, called it “pristine,” and said she barely got to do her job. Naturally, this made my day. And naturally, when I opened the document, I saw that there was still
some work to do. I paged through it as I was making dinner and getting ready to run out for an evening appointment, and when I saw that some of the suggestions required actual thought, my reaction was something like this: “You’re kidding me, right?”
Yep, the same reaction I’ve always had. Here’s the difference–I used to leave it at that thought. When I first joined a critique group, it would sometimes take me days to heed good advice. Now it’s the same process of acceptance on my part–but it only takes a few seconds. Sometimes part of a second. After that first, “But, but, but . . .” I go, “Yeah, I see your point. Okay.” And I get down to making it better.
Occasionally my work with other writers, many of them new to the business and still working on that first manuscript, proves that I’m not the only one with this problem with criticism. I’ve heard excuses, I’ve heard exasperation, I’ve heard outright denial that there’s a problem with their book. And I’ve thought, “If you don’t want honest advice, why did you ask me to read this??”
Then I realize they’re no different than me, and I make sure to offer my criticism along with the hammer and nails they need to incorporate it–because I don’t want to tear anyone down with my words, I want to build them up.
I know myself well enough to realize that I’ll probably always have that half-a-second argument when I get criticism. But I’m so glad that I’m to the point now where I can so quickly see the wisdom behind it. As I’m working regularly now with editors and agents, I keep thinking of the kind of author I want to be–and I don’t mean defining myself by what I write. Rather, I’m talking about being an easy author to work with. One they know they can depend on to deliver the best manuscript I can, to accept advice graciously, to work hard and quickly to give them what they ask for.
Yeah, a little pride sneaks in when an editor tells me my book is in great shape–pride quickly checked when they follow the praise with constructive criticism. But when I click “send” on a manuscript, it’s not with the thought of, “There, perfect.” these days. It’s with the hope that I gave them what they wanted. That they read through it and think, not that Roseanna is the best author ever, but that Roseanna is a great author to work with.
I have no doubt this will be an ongoing process–and I’m grateful the Lord didn’t bless me with a contract until I was to the point where I could accept all the work required for it with grace.
by Roseanna White | Jul 21, 2011 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Last night, as we were flipping through the TV, we came across a new-ish show. It’s another of those reality shows, this one following an archaeologist and writer who specializes in symbols. Who, naturally, is jetting around the world in search of lost legends. Like a real-life Indiana Jones.
Yeah, sure.
We watched this for about half an hour, mostly, I think, so we could laugh at some of the leaps the dude made. What, you found a 6th century sword? Then obviously it was Arthur’s! I mean, why not? You connected three dots so seamlessly . . .
But as I shook my head, I also enjoyed the premise on some level. And thought, not for the first time, that it’s kind of a shame we’ve been conditioned to doubt everything. Because wouldn’t it be fun to think that Arthur really was the king of legend, and Excalibur was lying around England somewhere, waiting to be found? Wouldn’t it be fun to think that there are artifacts so worth questing for?
There are, in a sense–items that, if found, could enrich our history or shed new light on old stories. But do any of us believe, anymore, that those legends have the magic (for a lack of a better word) in them? Not really. And I kinda wish we did.
Sure, I read with amazement how the Ancient Greeks imbued everything with mythology. And as a Christian, I have definite beliefs about where the supernatural comes from. But sometimes I wish we could wind back the clock of time so that I could believe more easily–and not just the legendary tales of magic swords or wishing stones. I’m pretty sure that, without the skepticism and “intellectualism” we’re taught all our lives, we’d believe a lot more about our God as well. Maybe, if we were more disposed to believe in miracles, we’d see more of them.
I’ve talked about this before in various ways, but watching someone quest for Excalibur last night brought it up again. I’m not always willing to suspend disbelief for a half hour TV show–and yet, it’s when I can that I begin to see things in the world I never noticed before. Things that make me smile, make me raise my hands to heaven, and make me thank my Lord for creating a world beyond which I can normally see.
Do I believe Merlin used magic to weld an ancient sword back together, one which could not be defeated, which first came out of a stone? No. But I do believe that with faith, we can triumph over our enemies. Sometimes in ways that are called miracles . . . or which become the stuff of legends.
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. 
