Hitting Those Walls

I'm a fairly easy-going person. I think that everyone who knows me well will add that I have moments when I'm definitely not so easygoing.

This is something I try to hide. I think it may be a combination of oldest child/pastor's kid/Regular Baptist syndromes, but somehow I got the idea that I should present to the world a "got it all together" vibe.

I had no idea 8 years ago when I first felt God whispering to me about being an author that it would be such a hard road. I have always enjoyed writing immensely. So I had a flowery picture of me happily typing out a novel and skipping off to the publisher who would gush and throw money at me. God neglected to mention that it would be hours and hours of learning the craft. He didn't mention that I would be here, six completed novels later, still not ready to seriously try to sell anything I've written. Talent with words does not mean you are ready to wow the world by any stretch of the imagination. And so you see by the picture that eight years later I am still learning constantly what it means to write a story.

Sometimes, I can't stop writing and learning. Sometimes the words flow and I experience a kind of joy it would be difficult to describe, something I assume will be standard issue happiness in eternity. It is easy for me to fall in love with fictional places and people. It is pleasure to craft their stories. And in these moments I have faith that God will complete the work in me and do what He intended to do when the timing is perfect.

But sometimes, like today, I wonder. Have I wasted all the countless hours of my life, pursuing something that is not realistically ever going to matter? There are moments when people respond to the things I write, but most of the time, I feel alone in this venture. I don't see where all these people that are going to be changed by my writing are going to come from. Is it just foolishness? Silly dreams by someone with a small life and an overactive imagination?

When I read books intended for authors, true authors, they resound with me. It's easy to know that I have the heart of a writer. But there are so many other people writing. Will anything I put to paper ever really matter to anyone but me?

This is my deepest truth: I don't really care about fame and fortune. If I were to receive a windfall from a book deal, I honestly wouldn't want anything except to travel more often and to help those in need. For me, the desire to write has to do mostly with just wanting to enrich someone else's life by crafting an enjoyable story. By encouraging and lifting up the spirit of a reader. My heart is to show love to others through words.

This is my deepest enemy: My own doubts and embarrassment about not being perfect. It's hard to spend months writing something, and be really excited about it, then to finish it and put it away and come back to find that it just wasn't that special.  It's easy to come to the conclusion that I'm never going to feel strongly enough about any of my stories to go to the lengths it takes to get published in today's market. It's not uncommon for writers to send queries or proposals to 60 agents or editors and still be rejected 60 times. Being a writer takes a thick skin, hard work, and above all perseverance.

I'm praying for faith and direction. I have to believe all this will make sense in the end.

That's my truth for today.

My Favorite Moms

It's Mother's Day. My mom is off watching birds and my grandmas are busy hanging out with Jesus, but I felt like putting up a few pics of the moms who have meant the most to me. These are the women that showed me how it's done. 

Above is my mom. Reader of stories, leader of adventures, and the one that always tried to see what I was pointing at even if no one else in the world understood. She still does that. She was great at the art of mothering. She held on tight enough that we knew she was always there and that she cared more than anyone. But she let go just enough to allow us to figure out who we were and what God had for us. I pray I can find that fine line as gracefully as she did, and still does. 

My Grandma. She has always been one of my heroes. Not because she was perfect, but because she was real. She admitted it when she didn't know what she was doing. She said so when she was mad or unsure or worried or sad. And most of all, she loved like crazy. Everything we did or said was precious to her. I don't know if I've ever known a hug as tight as Grandma's. She was responsible for some of the most outrageous, fun moments of my life. I feel like everyone who didn't know Nellie Mae Hubble is missing out. Someday I'm going to get her story right, and then everyone else will be able to see her as I do.

Eileen. This list wouldn't be complete if I didn't introduce Grandma Eileen. She wasn't really related to me, but she took on the job of Grandma with all the gusto of the best grandmas in the world. She and her husband Joe were members of my dad's church in Illinois, and they became like family to our family for the first ten years of my life before they moved far away to Texas to be close to their own family. Eileen was tough. She was a school principal and you didn't mess around with her. But she was also sweet, and fun, and full of good advice. I am forever thankful for the woman who was one of my earliest best friends. I still miss her, and she's been living in Texas for 25 years now.

 My Grammy. Grammy was already in her 70's when I was born. I didn't go on any wild adventures with her and most of the time I spent with her she was sitting in her chair crocheting. But I was like my Grammy in many ways. I had inherited the ability to play music by ear, and she liked to listen to me play hymns and sing. She tried to teach me to crochet. We liked the same programs on television. She was a peaceful spirit who loved deeply. She took care of her invalid daughter every day, every night, never complaining about it or showing any impatience at all, until she was in her 90's. She taught by example more than by words. I'm thankful for her influence.

The day I became a mother I realized just how special each of these women were. I hope that I can follow their godly examples for the rest of my life.

May 10 on 10

 "What? Don't all messy faced toddlers sit on the table?"

 I had an MRI this morning. Thankfully, it was so early that it almost seems like it was just a bad dream. And wow, I'm old.

 Memorizing her verse for Bible. Apparently it works better if you pace around the kitchen.

 Brotherly love.

 My new workspace. As you can see I'm busily... twittering.

 My inspirational view from said workspace.

 This is very important. The SECOND right answer. Never the first.

 Sweet sleepy baby with a knot on his forehead. I'm seriously considering a helmet for the poor child.

 Trying to put my new contacts in. I get a little better at it every day.

 Favorite song. It will probably change tomorrow, but at least today it was.

BONUS PICS JUST BECAUSE IT'S YOUR LUCKY DAY:

My reading material. LOOK HOW MUCH NONFICTION I HAVE!

 My dog giving me a condescending look. He thinks he's better than me.

 Gotta get those teeth out somehow. (JUST KIDDING!) Notice Sarge's face.

 Nope, it's still there. He lost the other one when he was 3 during an unfortunate "superman" event.

 Do we look tired? Cause we are.

 The only picture I edited. Then I got lazy. But look how nicely my boy did his last phonics paper for the year.

Yeah. No caption necessary.

Are we really surprised who wanted to be the cop and who wanted to be the crook?

The Purpose of Passion

I'm reading a really great book. It's saying a lot when I read nonfiction. It's called The Art of War for Writers by James Scott Bell. I admit, when I got it based on another author's suggestion, I thought it was tips on writing about war. I'm kind of surprised I still went through the motions to reserve it and pick it up at the library. But it is not about war, thankfully. It's about fighting yourself and becoming the author you really want to be underneath all the self-doubt and laziness.

I've definitely got both of those on my back constantly. So an arsenal of weapons to wage attacks on my two biggest enemies is a timely and necessary pursuit.

There was a great exercise about identifying your passions when you are thinking through ideas for stories. The things that an author feels most strongly about will cause him or her to write in the most meaningful way. So at Bell's insistence, I wrote down a list of my deepest beliefs. The things that are unshakable, non-negotiable beliefs I would stand up on a soapbox and preach about if I felt they were being threatened.

Not surprisingly, most of mine are about God. I thought I would share my list on my blog. If you'd like to make your own list, please provide a link to your blog in the comments. I'd like to read them.

My Strongest Beliefs

1. God is perfection and love.

2. Jesus is the answer to every question.

3. The best stories always directly or indirectly point to Jesus.

4. The Bible is the ultimate model for any story.

5. Prayer changes things.

6. Greater love doesn't exist than someone being willing to sacrifice their life for someone else.

7. In the end, God wins.

8. Life without imagination is cruel and joyless.

9. Creativity is one of the most amazing gifts of God.

10. Anything worth doing is hard.

11. Nobody can be me better than I can.

12. You're only asking for trouble when you add your own rules to God's rules.

13. Humility and meekness offer the Holy Spirit opportunity to be strong and change things. 

14. Pride is the root of almost any sin.

15. Forgiveness heals relationships.

16. Pretending to be better than you are is a roadblock to your dreams.

17. I'm nothing but a sinner saved by grace.

The Good, the Bad, and the Not So Attractive

 The Good. I got a camera. I am the proud owner of a new Nikon D3100 that I have only dropped once so far. (Collective gasp from all the photographers.) Not only do I have this wonderful new camera that is taking really good pictures of my currently uninteresting life as evidenced here, but it was given to me by my amazing Grandma who is two years in heaven and still managing to buy me the coolest presents. You may ponder this if you wish. I finally decided to buy an expensive camera because if I had asked her what I should get, a camera would have been one of her first answers. Grandma loved taking pictures of people she loved. I think she was always trying to capture the moments of fun and togetherness and hold on to them forever. I am mournful in spirit that Grandma never knew the endless wonder of digital photography.

Good thing number 2: Season finales. I'm just going to be honest here and say that around this time of year, I get a little obsessed with my "stories." I try to keep this to myself for the most part, after all, no one likes to admit that they have a tendency to go overboard on something. But no one that reads this blog will think any less of me. Or if they do I can live with it. I've kind of lost interest in almost all the shows I was watching, but there are two I won't miss for the world. Fringe, on fox, and Castle, on abc. First of all, give me a story that's headed somewhere specific and that will stop when it gets to the end. And please please please give me characters that make me care about them and capture my interest. And there you have the fun that is Fringe. Fringe also keeps me on my proverbial toes. Generally, I can predict where a television show is headed in the first five minutes or so. I'm not trying to praise my highly intellectual television viewing ability, I'm sure everyone can do the same. But the difference is I like to be surprised. Fringe makes me crazy by throwing me for continual loops. Ask MacGyver, I've tried to predict it. I've tried to be just as completely out in space as they get. I'm almost always wrong. But what's more unusual, is that when I'm wrong, I end up liking their trail better. Anything that can surprise me AND satisfy the story-lover in me has my utmost respect. I look forward to every last juicy, scientific, mind-blowing bit of the next and final 15 episodes.

Castle may be a bit more predictable as far as plots go, but they're at the sweet spot. If they were the standard and quite unimaginative mystery/cop show that is on every other channel they wouldn't have caught my attention in the first place. But it's about a writer, after all. And they've come to the turning point of the story, after four patiently developed years. I've always loved Castle's wit and character interaction. They've slow-cooked a zesty blend of homicidal detectivism and literary interplay and placed on top a healthy dollop of comedic icing. And how can one resist a story when two people start out at opposite ends of the spectrum and gradually their variances and contentions become respect and love? They've played the romance old-school and precious few take this route anymore. So they have my attention for at least another episode, the last of their fourth season.

The Bad. I realize no one wants to read a blog that is authored by a whiny complainy-mcplainerton. But life has been a little challenging lately, and it helps to put it here on the proverbial page. A tangled string of dr appointments has plagued three members of our family, and I'm a little overwhelmed. My baby boy has had two seizure-like episodes and will be seeing a neurologist next month. I have a prescription in hand for an anti-seizure medicine that is supposedly going to help tame my migraines, but it is with dread I contemplate taking it and discovering what long list of side effects it will cause. And it is with even more dread that I will have an MRI. There are few things I find more terrifying then tightly enclosed spaces.


Also challenging at the moment is trying to finish homeschool. We are in the home stretch. But neither Spirit or I have any interest in furthering our grasp of 3rd grade mathematical principles. Battles are erupting. Students and teachers go missing when the time comes to reduce our fractions or solve our equations. It seems like the last 5 or 6 lessons stretch on to infinity. I have great respect for the teachers out there that manage to accomplish this part of the year with not one but as many as 30 completely un-self motivated 8 year olds.


The Not So Attractive. Yeah. It's time to get serious about diet and exercise again. I put it somewhat out of my mind for a month. Time's up.


Check out not-so-unattractive Screech and Sarge. And if you Twitter, find me. It's my new adventure, and it's actually pretty fun!