What I'm Into November 2013, or Things I'm Thankful For

I've been watching Leigh Kramer's What I'm Into posts, enjoying them, and wanting to participate. Now I'm finally going to do it!

An old friend acquaintance sent a message earlier today that got me thinking about the things I've done lately, and I realized quite a few things of note happened last month.

All month:

So, first off, in October I wrote a post about National Novel Writing Month and my intention to participate again. The goal of 50,000 words daunted me working full time and living in a new home, but the pattern of it quickly became a comfort. The set up of my word processor, music, and earbuds became a ritual; I was entering sacred space and I loved it. There were a few times I fell behind and wondered if I could catch up, but I allowed myself grace at the same time that I required words. It was a funny balance, but I learned about my own writing mechanics. I also pantsed the entire story to date, allowing more freedom for the silly and nonsensical, time travel you know and all that. I still write serious and need to work on my humor (funny is hard!), but the characters and events are better for my lack of a strict outline. On November 29th, I reached that longed for word count milestone. On November 30th I wrote some more because the story wasn't done and I had the itch to keep writing. And so I did, and so I shall.

In addition to writing, I indulged in as much Doctor Who as I could, catching up on all the series before the 50th anniversary episode, when my household had a party with Jammie Dodgers, Jelly Babies, popcorn, and more. I love that show, and the 50th anniversary episode did not disappoint.

After The Day of the Doctor, Peter Capaldi's eyebrows showed up in a game my brother and sister-in-law played on each other. I was the unintended victim a couple of times, and it was great. Eventually it escalated, and the 12th Doctor's eyes were vandaleyes'd. No pic of that, though, sorry.

Last month, I was also told that I am an empath. I hadn't realized such a thing was a real-life possibility and not just the stuff of superheroes and fiction, but it explains so much of my past and present, how I experience life and other people. I'm keeping my eyes open for more resources and information on this subject.

Firsts:

It's hard to believe it was such a short time ago now, but in November, on a beautiful, fresh Sunday afternoon, a friend took me to see the ocean, which I had never seen with my own eyes before. I knew I'd be going back and I already have once.

The last morning of November was spent on a yacht, traversing the harbor with the family. It was great to get out and do something with everyone, and the admission price was a present for Toys for Tots, which my niece was very excited about giving. Near the end of the trip, the boat went under the bridge pictured below. It's huge and amazing (it's actually one of my favorite places in the area--the view!). I lingered outside, taking in the vastness of the bridge, sky, water, and breeze. Also, no pictures, but I caught my first glimpse of a dolphin jumping out of the water!

Travel:

Midmonth, I went to Columbia and drank coffee. To clarify, I did not leave the country, or even the state. I headed to South Carolina's capitol city and watched a dear friend, a wonderful and inspiring woman, graduate from basic training. After the ceremony, I had the blessed time of enjoying an Olive Garden lunch and caramel macchiato with her and her family, some of my favorite people. It was so, so good to see them, and so hard to leave.

Reading:

I started reading Jesus Feminist (which I knew about primarily through my sister-in-law and Leigh Kramer, so thanks, ladies!), and it is amazing. I'd say my viewpoint on "women's roles" has changed even in the last couple of weeks, and for the better, in part due to this book's examination of how we live and what should be normal. I'm not through the book yet, but I don't expect it to take much longer.

It's also been a month since John Flanagan's book The Royal Ranger came out and I haven't read it yet! I pre-ordered, then decided to wait until December so I wouldn't be rushing through it (I anticipated bleed-over rush pace from writing so fast in November). Then I decided I should read one book at a time (I forget why, something about focus), and I started Jesus Feminist first. But this one is next (sorry, Jane Eyre) since I've been anticipating it for months.

Listening:

Like many, I have been introduced to Pentatonix's performance of The Little Drummer Boy, one of my favorite Christmas songs, and loved it. I'd heard their cover of Radioactive with Lindsey Stirling and liked it, but didn't know what I was listening to. Now I do and Pentatonix has a new fan. I love a sound that is full even without instruments.



Whew! It's been an odd, interesting, and typical month, jam packed with the ordinary and realizations, routine and special events. It's been even fuller than I'd realized. And I didn't even mention Thanksgiving, with my niece and brother racing on the Wii, or the fact that my list of "what I'm thankful for" was simple and I was too embarrassed to give one that was heartfelt. I do have a lot to be thankful for, and I'm learning how to express that, in the special and the ordinary both. This blog list is a good start.


So. What are you into?

Yes, but can I do it again?

Last year I hid in my closet for a month, occasional treats and hot coffee nearby, earphones on with my playlist waking up the right emotions, and keyboard offering the rewarding soft tapping noises. Fifty-three thousand words in thirty days.

That was a challenging, rewarding experience.

I learned that I could budget my time (some) and get out a rough draft of a complete novel in a hurry. I counted myself among the thousands of winners. I took a silly picture to show you my happiness. And then I got busy with other parts of life.

I won NaNoWriMo last year.

Yes, but can I do it again?

I'm nervous. I want to write a story next month. I need to write a story. But can I do it?

I can't even write this post. I'm getting distracted by other things and thinking I should spend my time elsewhere.

I know I need to do this. I need to know I can make myself, perhaps let myself, value the act of creating a work of words in a full time schedule, in a new town, new everything environment.

And I need to choose a project. The stories are bouncing around in my head with new fervor. It's an exciting orbit that if I let it will do nothing but continue to circle and I'll never tell another story. I have to pick one, temporarily valuing it more than the others to focus on it and make it right before I can tell the next one. Choosing is hard. I want to see where all of them will go. But I am a linear being, so if it is to happen, it must be one story at a time. Which one will be next month? Which one will I start in six days?

I don't know if this post is coherent or not. This evening I am an excited, jumbled, nervous mess. But I came across this quote on Twitter, and for now I'll leave it at pondering this quote from Maya Angelou:

A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.

Practicing Purposeful

This Labor Day weekend was an exercise in my word of the year. This Labor Day weekend, I made the most of my days by deciding what the things I really truly actually wanted to do most were. One must-do per day.

Of course, as days are long it evolved into divisions by time of day (morning, afternoon, after dinner), but I had a focus point. "Today I really want to spend some time ________________________." And it was different each day. Each thing required me to say no to the other, the unessential. Each thing required me to step up and pursue my life. I was--I am--pursuing what I want to do and who I want to be. I want to be a person unafraid to do what matters most to me. I want to be a person unafraid to choose what is most important to me.

Monday: Looked for books and did some writing at Barnes & Noble

I still did things for others. My personal list didn't interfere with being a contributing member of this household. And therein is the beauty. A balance with boundaries. Some for me; some for you. No one is cheated; no one is overextended.

Sunday: I remember sitting in a photo booth with my aunt years ago. Good times.

Does the weekend have to end?


Well, these days on the calendar do, of course. That's the nature of time. But this practice, why does it have to be only on long weekends, or non-work-days in general? Sure there are a limited number of minutes in a day. But that's why being purposeful with those minutes is so good. Not being obsessed--sometimes the timing won't work out or other things will take precedence over what I planned or wanted; that happens to everyone and it happened this weekend. So I just chose something else that was possible that I really wanted to do rather than wasting the time doing things that weren't important to me. Purposeful.

And that's what I've been practicing this weekend.

Saturday: Oh yes. I colored my hair for the first time ever. And probably not the last.

Happy Labor Day Weekend!

Warm Up Exercise

Briefly looking through long forgotten drafts, I came across the phrase, "my head was crowded". ...My head is almost always crowded. Earlier today I was thinking, "I think too much." As the various layers that make me me, the few times when I'm not thinking I'm in one stage of exhaustion or another.

I've been trying to find some focus in areas of life lately, and aside from visiting calm.com with the consistency of the dabbler that I am, the only way I know how to gain focus is to employ focus. Soo helpful.

Anyway, with needing focus in mind and thinking about my writing goals, I thought I'd drop in for a little writing warm up, a brain/focus exercise, a social exercise, a patience exercise perhaps.

So, I'm going to find a writing prompt online and go for, say 150-200 words. Just to see what happens.

...... First choice was ...boring. Second choice was personal. Great.
But I'm not backing down. Why not go for it?

"Where do you go when you want to get away from the pressures of life, family, work, etc? Write about that place." (found at Creative Writing Prompts)

Sometimes I joke that books are my tardis. Okay, that’s only happened twice. Once? Ah well, it’s kinda true. When I’m run down and ready to vanish from this world for even just ten minutes, a book of my choosing is one of the first things I’ll want to pick up. TV stories and movies are great, and sometimes I’ll pick that because it’s easier or because I can share the experience with another. But books, ah the beauty of immersion in a book. I get involved when I watch a show, but I think I get more involved when reading. I love the format, the expression of the point of view. I want to smell what the hero smells. I want to know what the girl dressed as a boy is thinking without guessing. I want to be a part of long-established relationships as soon as I turn the page. I want to travel to the fantasy world and imagine the ground beneath my feet. I wonder what I would do in the world, in the story, in the friendships.

Maybe I'll do this warm up again sometime. Maybe that time I'll write something fiction.

In the meantime, onward with life and onward with story!

My Box

I live in a box. Like one that can store treasures or collect unwanted trinkets that don't ever get thrown out. My room is a box. Like a storage unit, it can be organized or chaotic. Right now my room is like a box being sorted. Only the treasures will remain, leaving empty space so they will be visible. Some have been hidden for so long that they're hardly treasures anymore. Yet once found, remembered, I have a hard time parting with them.

But what needs more space in the box of my room? Things? Or me?

I feel most alive, perhaps most protected, when I am not confined. It's why I love a wide open sky, a low horizon, a far view. Somehow I have to create that within a confined space, and so more things must go to make room for my long limbs and brave imagination to stretch.

My box, my room, is very boring, until I add the touch of me, things that make my heart leap with joy, things that remind me of good times and the love I have from others, things that let me ponder. Snapshots of the best moments in my favorite movie. A rose from my best friend, given three Valentine's ago, hanging in the window all this time. My college graduation cap with the Tangled sun that my sister-in-law painted on top. My framed print of a cowboy riding at sunset. My bridesmaid bouquet from my brother's wedding.

I live in a box. But soon, the edges of the box will fade and the treasures will take the spotlight.

Soon, my box will be as open space.

Linking up with The RunaMuck's #concretewords prompt.

Drumroll....

Thirty days into the challenge and two days after officially winning NaNoWriMo...

And with an official NaNoWriMo word count of 53,207...

I HAVE FINISHED MY STORY!!!

Thanksgiving Tightrope Walk

I walk a tightrope between perfect performance pressure and lackadaisical who cares it's no big deal.

When doing something expected by others, it takes almost no pressure for me to freak out and think I'm the wrong person for the job, I can't do it well enough, and everyone is going to be disappointed in me. If I have something for myself, it's not too terribly hard to think eh, whatever, it'll get done when it does. And of course there's the bleed-over mixing depending on each individual situation and my assumed expectations of others' expectations.

It's enough to make one's head whirl like a carousel.

This Thanksgiving week as I face off with food preparations (and the hardest part is done, but now I stress out because that makes a whole lot of sense. not.) I need to remember perspective. Sometimes it's a relief to remember that I am to the universe what an ant is to me. Small, insignificant, and not likely to screw up the world if people happen to not favor my dishes in two days. And likewise, it's a relief to know that I am loved on a grand scale no matter what. Funny how both are true at exactly the same time.

I am very very small, and God is very, VERY big.

I have tons of things to be thankful for, not least of which is that I get to eat at all. So what if it's not amazing? And bonus if it is.

I recently had tea with some very dear friends and periodically we said things that we were thankful for. The things that came to my mind were many. Here are a few. I was recently given opportunities to

    1) Travel, specifically by flying in 3 airplanes. Something I've wanted to do for years I got to do three times in just over a week, twice in one day (takeoff and landing are awesome).

    2) Be empowered to know that I can handle wood-cutting power tools (Rosie the Riveter I'm not...but I could be!), adjust to another family's culture and the local climate (well, kinda with the climate. with more time, I could), venture out on my own in unfamiliar territory and have a great time, and even make new friends (the secret is opening a conversation with "What's your favorite Disney movie?" --Now I know!) .

    3) Gain employment in a dream job, surrounded by wonderful people and books galore!

    4) Be responsible for two sweet, little dogs for one glorious and short week, cuddling, playing, treating, and getting licked--oh it was a piece of heaven.

And through these and other changes in my life and in the lives of those I love, I have enjoyed the return of hope and eager anticipation within the realms of this life. I know I no longer have to feel stuck and trapped, and for this I'm deeply grateful. I'm more ready than ever to make and seek out dreams, knowing some may happen and some won't, but I intend to live boldly (well, it's a goal anyway) and love the life I have been given, through the easier times and the harder times. (I'm not naive enough to think there will never be hard times again, but I know they don't have to destroy me or my dreams for an even better life.) I will fail all the time (hello, Thanksgiving prep emotional turmoil :P ), but I know I'll get righted again; all I need is a little perspective reminder.

I wish I was unflappable like Phil Coulson when I go through the soul stretcher, but since I'm not, I get to practice remembering the perspective of grace that I have been given, resuming my balance on that funny tightrope.

Feel free to say hi and let me know if you relate and how you handle it. Maybe we can encourage each other.

And with that, have a lovely Thanksgiving Day and rest of the week (and month; I may not be back before then [but I'll still see your comments]. NaNo!).
 
 

Delight of Now

My jaw would drop if I wasn't resting my face on my hand.

I just met someone, well we didn't meet exactly, but we talked briefly on the phone. And then I learned something about her.

She's a year younger than me and just had a baby? I think. I feel cheated. But as soon as the thought forms I remember, oh yeah, that's...that's about normal.

Remember, I have called you to something else.

Yeah. I remember. I'm not cheated. And she's not better than me, either. Nor am I better than her. I'm just on a different kind of path. I don't know where it will take me, but I know I have a leader who has already set the path and decided it's good. That should be enough.

And it is. Actually the last couple of months have been better than I could have expected and exactly the sort of thing I hope for my life. When one exciting thing calmed down and the event passed, days seemed normal. Time traveled slowly...and in the proper order. That's okay. Good, actually. And then another exciting event came, and went. And days passed one at a time. No specific exciting event on any given day.

Except every day is rather exciting. Each day is new, and I have renewed hope for future days...without spoiling the delight of now.

Now I get to wake up every morning, see the growth of my little jar of Forget-Me-Nots, relax or start early, form a semblance of a dinner plan, head off to one of my dream jobs where I work with great people and will always be surrounded by inspiration as long as I don't close my eyes to it (the feeling is a bit like every time I would get to walk to my beautiful Gaylord, home of the best possible major for me, great teachers, and friendly classmates), read, dream, write, and store up...something. I'm not sure what, nor for what, but I'm glad to drink in where I am now, knowing where I've come from.

No, I'm not married, and no, I don't have a newborn. But I do have a lot. Her adorable baby isn't mine, but this,
::deep breath:: 
this is mine.

Do You Nano?

Okay, deep breath, I'm plunging in. Without enough time to talk myself out of it, I have decided I'm going to participate in NaNoWriMo 2012. It's time for some writerly abandon, forget the rules, which I tend to be a stickler for (well, if someone tells me to do something in this way, I'll do my best to match it. I might experiment if specifically given permission to do so. Otherwise....), and let my whimsies and fantasies take flight on paper. Or computer. ... Eh?

Yes, I know that was weird.

Oh well, forget the "rules", right? NaNoWriMo isn't supposed to be the prettiest thing I ever write. It's just supposed to get done.

I've written two novels before. Both in first draft form, one took about a year, the second made it somewhere in probably five months (...hey, I just realized, that's progress!). Now for the one month challenge. This is going to be awesome. And just like major exercise after not using those muscles much for a long time, I'm going to be oh so sore.

But I kinda like being sore. As long as I'm sure I'll recover. You know why? Because it means I'm getting stronger, and yes, I can meet the challenge.

Now is warmup time. Mentally and emotionally mostly, probably. Gotta get ready and head off the stereotypical writer's block and depression before they have a chance to hit.

Because I can do this.

I plan to be a winner.

The War of Art - A Compass

Ah hah.

Like a magnetized needle floating on a surface of oil, Resistance will unfailingly point to true North--meaning that calling or action it most wants to stop us from doing.

We can use this. We can use it as a compass. We can navigate by Resistance, letting it guide us to that calling or action that we must follow before all others.

Rule of thumb: The more important a call or action is to our soul's evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.

            The War of Art by Steven Pressfield, page 12

This is a handy book when I need a boost or reminder in those times when the writing I want to do or another goal I dream of seems nigh on slipping through my fingers (or more accurately, like I'll never sit down to work on it). Filled with brief, sweet, and poignant explanations and wisdom regarding the artist's life. So far I'm in Book 1, all about Resistance, my enemy and apparently my guide.

Sensei did tell me to "Persevere." Here it seems is another tool toward that.

Persevere.

Squee!, second part

Let the excitement continue!

Read the prologue at Rebekah's website here.

Two weeks ago, I told you about the e-release of Petals by my twin-separated-at-birth (but not really) and best friend (really), Rebekah Roberts. I shared a quick interview and a little bit about the book and I got my copy. You can read that bubbly post here. (And remember, I'm not getting paid for this, not even bribery money.)

Well, today, when I postponed breakfast and hopped online, I scooted over to Amazon.com and found the paperback is already ready to order! It will also be available at BarnesandNoble.com; it's jut not up quite yet.


Last time, I had asked my twin some more questions about her writing, and now I would like to share them with you.

 

D: What has the journey been like to getting published?

R: Amazingly fast. I know that I am so blessed to have found a publisher so quickly. I hope that that means my book is something special.


D: Where do you write?

R: I love to go to Barnes and Noble. Most of Petals was produced there. The smell of coffee and new books gets me in the writing mood.

D: Do you have a writing routine?

R: Not really. I just try to fit it in where I can. I work long hours and there isn't always time. I think lamenting over not getting in our writing time is a constant struggle with most writers.

D: So what do you like to do in your free time?

R: Lately I have been napping. ;) But when I am not sleepy, there is nothing I like more than to hang out with my family or a good friend. I love reading and TV and movies, but I think, given the choice I would rather hang out and have a good talk with someone than just about anything.

D: Probably because you're an encourager. How do you hope to encourage readers with Petals?

R: The themes that are in Petals and now in the following books have a lot to do with true beauty and true love. I love romances, but I want to write a story that is more than just "boy meets girl." I want to write a story that has broken characters that may not be perfect by the last page but they are on their way to becoming better people and then maybe somehow that might affect a reader in his or her own life.

D: What is your fear with your book?

R: Wow... Good question. I guess, that no one will buy it... But I think more than that I am afraid of sending the wrong messages. I set out to send a message about beauty and love, but I have learned so much since I wrote it that I hope it still rings with truth. A single book is just a small stopping place in a writer's life. I have grown so much as a person and as a writer since I started the project, so I just hope my younger self knew what she was talking about.

D: Everybody has dreams. What are yours?

R: My dream as an author (wow that looks weird to type, author..), is to keep writing and keep getting published. I don't know that I will ever just write. I am currently a full-time nanny and I love it. I think I will always write and do something else, at least on the side. As for personal dreams... I'm like any hardcore dreamer, I want my own fairytale, my own happily ever after and I pray that I find it someday.

D: In addition to writing and nanny-ing (yeah, I don't think that's a word yet) you also have a ministry outreach in the works. Tell me about it.

R: Unfolding Rose Ministries is a new adventure that I am embarking on this fall. It is a ministry that I'm starting. I want to use my own fiction, other fiction, and interviews I'm conducting with men and women as a way to talk to young women about love, purity, modesty, guys, true beauty, and most of all who they are in Christ.   

D: What keeps you going every day?

R: My faith in Christ. I suffer from anxiety. It's something that I am not ashamed to talk about and anyone who knows me, knows I deal with worry and doubt on a daily basis. I guess you could call me a sensitive artist or just a plain old worry wart, but God takes that and uses it. Jesus is the one who gets me out of my head and gives me the strength to be there for others. It's because of my fears that I am able to write better characters and I am able to be sensitive to other peoples' struggles. So I thank God for my weakness and I thank Him for His strength in my life.    

D: What's the one thing you want people to know about you?

R: I guess what it says in the info section of my personal Facebook page: "I am the creation of The Creator, the loved of The Lover, the daughter of The Father and the saved of the Savior. I am His."  And that this book is for Him as well.

 

You can keep up with the latest from Rebekah on her Facebook page or Twitter profile. There's also more at her official website, RebekahRoberts.net. And for fun, you can listen to the playlist that Rebekah put together of songs and videos that inspired Petals.

I've started reading my e-copy, and I'm excited to get my signed book soon! And I can't wait to find it in bookstores and geek out in a public place! Oh yes, I will be looking.

Cover image by 5 Prince Publishing

                                              "Beauty might just be the beast."

        Calla Williams is not like other girls.  Most girls spend their whole lives trying to be beautiful, Calla already is…and she hates it.
        When she is shipped off one summer to live with family friends in their dilapidated Mississippi plantation, Calla is faced with the prospect of living with strangers and their teenage son.  This is annoying because, like any other boy, he is sure to fall in love with her on sight. However, Griffin Davenport is not your typical teenage guy. With his hot temper and half of his face severely scarred, “hate at first sight” is closer to what she finds.
        Though the two teens try to stay out of each other’s way, an odd attraction to each other makes staying away anything but easy.
        Now, Calla must deal with growing feelings, her own prejudices, and finding the secret to Griffin’s past. As hate turns to friendship and friendship becomes something more, Calla learns a startling truth: God uses even how we look in His plan for our lives.

Squee!

Okay, I am psyched. It's not my book, and I'm not getting any money out of this (I'm actually spending money), but I'm already in line for my copies.

I'm talking with my best friend, Rebekah Roberts, PUBLISHED AUTHOR. Her first book in the Once Upon a Tuesday series, Petals, comes out today in ebook format (available at amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com) and in print form on July 11th (and it should be in some local bookstores, but we don't have the info of where yet). (Here's a link to the publisher's blog with an excerpt from the book, a list of all the places online the book can be bought, and an easy contest for a $10 Amazon gift card [contest is today only].)

Rebekah and I have been best friends (identical twins separated at birth, really) since we graduated high school together. I love her for her honesty, humor, love, graciousness, and her persistence to hope. She has been one of my main encouragers and carries hope for me when I can't.

Rebekah has a love of fairytales and romance, and a heart for today's teens and children. Through her writing she has found her gift for sharing God's love with people she may never meet (expanding her already impressive reach!).

I asked my twin some questions about this new milestone to share with you.

 

D:  Why do you want to write books?

R: I have always been a story teller.  I can remember gathering kids at church around me and I would tell them stories. The crowd would always grow bigger as I spoke.  So I write to tell a good story, but also I look at it as a ministry.  I want to write stories that will make people think, make them grow and hopefully bring glory to God.


D: What are your most and least favorite parts of being a writer?

R: Least favorite part would have to be feeling guilty for not getting any writing done in a day or week. The best part is watching the story play out. Getting to see something that was just in your head come together and actually become something real and tangible.


D: How does it feel to achieve your dream of being a published author?

R: It feels amazing.  Like going on a journey for many years and finally getting to the "Welcome" sign. It must be how Frodo felt after getting to Mordor or how Ella (from Ella Enchanted) felt when she made it to the giant's wedding. But at the same time I know this is just the welcome. I still have a lot of stories that I want to write and a lot more dreams, even in the area of writing, that I want to achieve.


D: Why this book, this story? And why now?

R: Now, is the perfect time for a wholesome look at romance. Our genaration is overly sexualized and what true beauty really is has been lost... We need to fight to get it back... This book is about inner and outer beauty, it's about realizing that God uses everything, even how we look, in His plan for our lives. I think that you will relate to the characters and maybe grow with them.


D: Why you?

R: I have always loved Beauty and the Beast.  One of my earliest memories is watching the Disney version in the theater.  I was so scared of the Beast but I still loved the film.


D: How did you choose the title?

R: Um...It started out being called "Calla and Griffin: A modern day tale of Beauty and the Beast."  But long titles were not "in" at the time so I decided to change it to something catchy. I figured petals go with roses and no one can think of B&B without the rose. It was cool how the petals became a theme and you will find them throughout the book.


D: You wear roses every day, don't you?

R: Not every day... But most days, yes. It's not even always on purpose... I just love roses so much that they end up as a pattern in a dress or on my earrings. I didn't even notice the trend until someone pointed it out.


D: What are you working on now?

R: The second book in the Once Upon a Tuesday series. The working title is Sheltering Snow.  It is a modern version of Snow White.  It's about a teen runaway who is befriended by a quirky family of siblings.  It's about heartbreak and learning what real love and real family is.

You can keep up with the latest from Rebekah on her Facebook page or Twitter profile. There's also more at her official website, RebekahRoberts.net.


...I feel like a bridesmaid: excited for my dear friend and anticipating the bouquet toss! And I can't wait to read this novel again!

Cover image by 5 Prince Publishing

                                              "Beauty might just be the beast."

        Calla Williams is not like other girls.  Most girls spend their whole lives trying to be beautiful, Calla already is…and she hates it.
        When she is shipped off one summer to live with family friends in their dilapidated Mississippi plantation, Calla is faced with the prospect of living with strangers and their teenage son.  This is annoying because, like any other boy, he is sure to fall in love with her on sight. However, Griffin Davenport is not your typical teenage guy. With his hot temper and half of his face severely scarred, “hate at first sight” is closer to what she finds.
        Though the two teens try to stay out of each other’s way, an odd attraction to each other makes staying away anything but easy.
        Now, Calla must deal with growing feelings, her own prejudices, and finding the secret to Griffin’s past. As hate turns to friendship and friendship becomes something more, Calla learns a startling truth: God uses even how we look in His plan for our lives.

I don't choose my purpose. I'm given freedom.

Yesterday I held a newborn baby. A tiny person. She is beautiful and precious. Impossibly real. A new heart not yet ready to explore far, but filled with so much potential already that it makes one want to sing. I didn't see her for long, and I held her for less than that (she was hungry, after all, and I haven't got food in me). I'm terribly excited for her and her parents, and I have confidence that they will be just fine. I left as unobtrusively as I could manage to let this beautiful, little, and growing family have peace and time. And on the way home, I cried.

You see, despite my fears of babies (mostly because they're so small, I'm not and tend toward clumsiness, and I don't want to break them or hurt them in any way), there are times I desperately want a child (or more than one) of my own.

I want a small, young, new person to hold and comfort, cuddle and feed, encourage and teach. Someone to whom, down the road, I can say, "Sure, try that slightly dangerous or new and uncertain thing. It'll probably turn out all right." Someone who I can try to help have more courage than I do. And a whole long list of reasons and things I look forward to, should they be granted to me.

And preceding that, I would love to be married. Seriously. There's another list longer than my arm of things I want and hope for wrapped in that.

And these are good things to want, certainly. I'm not likely to stop any second. But I'm also not likely to get married "any day now". And because of that (and a thousand other things, including I've never been career-oriented) I've been down in my heart about my usefulness and my purpose. If I want to raise a person, how is fiction going to help? If I want to marry and partner myself with a man, what use is the obscurity of holing up and pouring my energy into false realms into which no one can truly travel? And if marriage and children are not for me, what is the point of wanting them so deeply? And what is the benefit of my desired and chosen profession anyway?

Those questions are hard to write now, because, for the moment, it's so easy to see how silly they are. But for a couple or so weeks I wrestled with the challenges they brought to mind. The "glut" of fiction and stories haunted me. The longing to do something great and to be a crucial piece in a grand plan that worked for the good of thousands of people made my heart despair that "I could never".

Because, after all, what can one lonely little writer do? Certainly nothing on such a grand and important scale.

But even as I doubted, I knew my doubts were...well, not exactly wrong, but ill-founded. I know that God can do nationally, even globally-scaled works through small people. So, of course my writing could turn out to be something desperately needed. It could turn out that way and I'd never know, or it could turn out that way and I'd be giving my autograph until I wished I'd never become a writer for different reasons.

But that's not even the heart issue. I know God can do huge things with one person if He chooses. I also know He can do "small" yet still highly important things with one person. The fact is, there's not a single person on this earth who doesn't have and fulfill a purpose.

I was struggling with wanting to choose my own purpose, when in reality, it's not my choice. I can choose the purpose of the fictional people I create, but I cannot choose my own. It's not my right. I didn't design myself, nor the people I'm around, nor the world I interact within. No, none of it. Everything I do in a fiction story I did none of for my own life.

It's not mine to question. Oh, sure, I can ask as long as I ask respectfully (how odd would it be if one of my characters were to demand of me that I change him from being a tailor to a taxi driver?), but once asked it's not mine to demand an answer. It is mine to simply accept that God is working and using me in His story as He sees fit. I don't have to know how all the intricacies work. Sure I'd like to. But I'm not my own author. Whoops. I merely play my part, which has importance though I may never know exactly what. I should stay open to the possibility of changes--or growth--of my role at the moment. But that doesn't make who I am, what I love, and what I do now flabbergastingly useless.

I didn't create it, but I have purpose, and really, I can't escape fulfilling a purpose. For God's glory and the good of those who love Him. Which, to put a finger on it, is what I really want.

That doesn't mean I can't choose to do other things, but I'm still unique me no matter what I do and will remain designed for what this unique me is needed. God gave me not only a love of others' stories but also of creating and sharing my own, and though I may sometimes try, I can't run from that. It will always be a part of me. I can grow as a person (please, no taller), expand my skills and knowledge, meet new people, try new things, and generally live life. Actually, I hope to do this. And that will only work to further my God-given purpose. Whether He chooses to reveal it to me at the time, later, or not at all is His call. But I can trust Him to use me for grand things.

It's a mystery. And yet it makes sense.

For now, I think I'll keep writing in re-remembered freedom.

Speak Up

I've had something on and off my mind for a while, and it's recently come up again. I've thought about blogging about it for months, but never got up the nerve to talk about it. My thoughts had been fairly organized, but now it's been a while so I have to do some re-thinking. But it's time. I may not be liked for my stance, I may get zero feedback, but it's important enough that it's time I step forward and say my peace.

I'll be back as soon as I can get my thoughts organized enough to share.

Oh to wax with eloquence

I tend to write more simply, more directly, more to the point. I think I write like a man, but with a me style to it. (Which might in part mean that I make certain jumps in logic, thinking those dots don't need to be connected. ...Did that make sense? Hm.) Well, my voice is and will always be attached to me, after all. But, oh to wax eloquent, and not simply think I am where I fail. So, I'm turning to poetry to learn a little more and see if I can improve my language skill.

It helps that my student in the Write Start class is highly interested in poetry. It seems to be her favorite style of creative writing we've explored. And it's something I've been interested in for a long time, too. When I'm bothered, really really really really bothered by something, or possibly very excited and happy about something, I write poetry about it.

But poetry...doesn't come easy to me. I like the flowery poetry for its use of words, but most of the time it's little more than that, flowery, pretty words. I have a hard time making sense out of it, even if the person sitting next to me follows along line for line, no big deal. If it's simpler, it makes sense easier, but I don't always like it as well for its simplicity. Alas.

I love imagery, but I need something to connect it all together. What? It flows perfectly. What am I talking about?

I guess I'm talking about my brain, but I didn't want to get gooey on you.

If I can feel or hear the rhythym (rats, I just can't spell that word) or hear a rhyme (yes! got that one!) I have an easier time connecting the current line with the previous line and remembering content from one verse to the next. Over all, I get a better picture of the intent. So that's how I usually think of and try to write poetry, even though there isn't only one set of acceptable rules and patterns can be picked and chosen as the author desires.

Enter this wonderful book that Rebekah found: Write Your Own: Poetry by Laura Purdie Salas. A children's book introducing some basics of poetry writing. Local library gold! I'm about halfway through reading it and I got it today. But I'm far from halfway through trying out the things it explains.

Here's to never ceasing learning and one more way to improve my overall writing!
Cheers


Chime in! What's your favorite style of poetry? Does it make sense or come easily to you, or are you like me and left behind without a hope to cling to?

Yes, that is a mock up of Winnie the Pooh. No, you may not skin my bear.

I'm going to work. That means, I'm sitting in my reading/writing nook, and will shortly work on more stories for my immediate and your eventual enjoyment.

Ah, a writer's life for me.

Yes, I did get the reading nook cleaned up. Some. I'm not done as it's not fully set up as I want it, but at least I can use it in the meantime—and have, staying up late last night in the all-out battle climax of Ranger's Apprentice: Book Four: The Battle for Skandia—and be further inspired to continue my work. Not bad for less than a full week into a three-week challenge, right?

It's a start.

Failure...or Plot Suspense?

It's not hard for a writer to feel like a failure. If he's not writing, then he's obviously not doing what he's supposed to. If he is writing so much that other responsibilities slide by or he doesn't live in the realm of reality between writing sessions, then he's obsessed and clearly off in the head.


Now, obviously there is a middle ground, but finding that balance between writing and living is remarkably tricky.

I, for one, frequently feel like a failure when it comes to writing. I fall in the first category. I spend so much time taking care of people and trying to maintain a semblance of sanity and cleanliness against a losing battle, that when I have time to write or edit...I sleep in. Maybe I'll pick up a book, one that's already been written and published by someone else, not my own. Oh, no. That takes too much emotional commitment and too much energy.

But I work, too. I co-teach and I tutor, and I love my jobs. Twice a week I get to talk about the workings of story and writing to the next generation, and I get paid for it! It's quite the pick-me-up, and I get excited to work on my stories. But, and there's always a but, when I pack up from the "office" I get sidetracked, distracted, and sometimes guilt-tripped into taking care of something that's more important or urgent (like, you know, people are very important).

So, I'm a caregiver more than a writer right now. Not exactly a "success story" of a writer, but still, I can't stop being a writer. It's part of my core (like phoenix tail, not a canary feather or a frog tongue, was in the core of Harry's wand). That means, that I will always come back to writing. Like this blog post right now. I have to go run some errands (after all, I need sweet tea), but I had a thought, and I needed to write it down.

So, what is one to do? While I can't speak from experience about a writer who does nothing but write, I can speak as one who hardly writes. When I'm not writing, when I'm living in the fantastical realm of reality, I'm gaining experience in the world and understanding of the aspects of it. I'm learning about myself and others (in short, people), and I'm learning about how creation works, and even more about Who created it.

And, later, that will be useful to writing and editing stories.

So, even though I'm not writing much, and I don't feel like a success as a writer right now...

Nothing is wasted. It just adds suspense and anticipation.

Just like in a polished work of fiction.

I need to write more

I stopped writing blog entries for a little bit because I think I was putting too much emphasis on it, or perhaps too much "this is how I will be loved"...in other words, it became something of an idol I had to sacrifice to and daren't skip an offering.

Oops.

So, I quit. Quite purposefully, I simply stopped posting, even stopped writing drafts. But, as long as I can come to it with the right attitude, it's not a sin to write for a blog. So, I'm back. :) And happy to be so. I like writing. I really like writing fiction (though that's draining), but I also like writing creative non-fiction. Even article writing is sometimes fun.

And this is my blog. It can be whatever I want.

So. Let's resume, shall we?

New Step in the Adventure

Should I tell you I'm excited or should I show you? The writer in me says, "Show."

I'm gearing up to embark on another step in the adventures of life and storydom. (I know that's not a real word.) I've wanted to teach and encourage other, particularly younger, writers since before I graduated. Now I'm given the opportunity to do just that.

I was asked to tutor a girl I know and have previously talked with about her story. We'll be using a program called One Year Adventure Novel next school year. All the materials have been provided, I just have to check them out, see what my soon to be pupil has come up with for her story, and set up the meeting times. For the second time, I get to teach during a school year (and for the first time, I will not also be taking classes...maybe). And I get to teach and build someone up in my area of study: story!

I've written novels before, so I know what the process is like, and hopefully I can now use that for my budding writer's benefit. I will be doing exactly what I hoped to do with my degree. In addition to writing and editing my work, I get to tutor, teach, and encourage.

I couldn't have planned it better myself. I wouldn't have known where to start. Owl City was right; dreams don't turn to dust.

Behind the Goal

A story begins with two things.  It needs four or six things (depending on how you like to count).
1) A protagonist,
2) an antagonist (who can be a villian),
3) directly conflicting goals between the two characters,
4) and motivation for them both.
Here's why.

I recently wrote a short story that went through a lot of revamping and rethinking before I got very far. My main character, Valerie, started out as a bounty hunter almost in a corner, choosing to fight instead of run. But she didn't care if she lived beyond the battle.

Um... No.

That is a weak, inactive protagonist. Not interesting to read (and a pain to write if you want to make the story go anywhere). My flaw was pointed out to me (I'm looking forward to the day I catch on quicker—or just stop making this error), and I rethought.

Okay, so Valerie wasn't who I thought she was. So who was she?

She needed a goal, yes, but she had that. Survival. It just wasn't strong enough. But wait, survival can be a very strong goal. What was missing? Motivation. She needed a reason to want to live. She needed a reason to want to take out the man hunting her.

This was my "Aha" moment. Or, if you prefer.

She needed a motivation behind her goal. That's not something I've heard explained much in my writing classes—at least, not in that wording. But it's one of the most necessary aspects of a protagonist, or any developed character. The why behind the what. And the answer? It had to do with a relationship. Relationships are always on the line in a story, the only question is which one. Then why that one. And, of course, how. Once you answer those questions, you're rolling.

I answered them. I answered the why she needed to survive with two relationships. A boyfriend. And his daughter. (It just became more interesting in your imagination, didn't it?) The answer to why those two relationships and how they're on the line has to do with the antagonist's goal and motivation. See how it all ties together? Before my eyes (...okay, twas all in my planning head) the story was building in strength. I had a goal with motivation for my protagonist and had further developed the direct conflict of goals with my antagonist/villian.

Now the story had heart. There was purpose to Valerie's actions. She had a reason to care enough to pursue her goal, and pursue it she did. Ta da.

So, a story needs...
1) a protagonist
2) with a [strong] goal
3) that's backed up by [deep] motivation,
4) and an antagonist/villian
5) with a [strong] opposing goal
6) that is also backed up by [deep] motivation.
Now you know why.