Joy to the World

Anne Frank said, “I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.” Such wisdom indeed for a fourteen-year old girl, and how she captured the essence of writing. This is food for thought. Stop reading now if you’re put off by Christian beliefs :). If you keep a journal, part of the joy is looking back and seeing how much growth you’ve achieved as you recorded your sorrows and found your courage. Writing fiction isn’t that different. I look back at my earliest efforts to tell a story and think, “Wow.” Of course, I also think “Thank goodness no one published that!” It gives me hope because if I have grown a bit, I know I will grow some more and I look forward to it. It will be painful and I’ll groan and moan and love every minute of it. I find that writing is very cathartic. You put people in trouble—characters you grow to love—all the while knowing you can get them out again. You know just what is going to happen, what lessons they need to learn, and what growth they’re going to experience and then voila! Happy Ending. Okay, I'm writing a trilogy, so the reader might have to wait a while for the happy ending, but still…there will come a time when I will write, “And they lived happily ever after.” Whether it’s writing in my journal, or writing a novel, the process reminds me that there is One who is doing the same for us. He knows we’re going to get in trouble down here and He lets us. He knows we’re going to suffer sorrows and disappointment as we learn by our own experience. He knows how much we can take, what lessons we need to learn, and then exactly how to get us out of trouble--because He loves us. He especially knows all about the Happy Ending, because He made sure we would have one by suffering and dying for it. At this time of year, we celebrate the beginning; the little Savior born in a humble stable. We know it sets in motion the greatest story ever told. We know, thanks to those who lived and loved Him and told the story, of all He went through, not for His growth and learning, but so that we might have our Happy Ending. Joy to the World! Let’s remember, we can shake off all the sorrows, let our courage be reborn, as we contemplate the miracle of Christmas.

Just Five More Minutes...

When we were traveling with our small children—this was long before auto DVD players—and we’d played every car game known to humankind, we would hear endless questions about “how much longer ‘til we get there?” It did no good to say, “Just enjoy the journey. Sit back and relax.” Not to the restless, active kids WE had. So, our reply would be, “Just five more minutes.” Of course, eventually the kids figured out that we were just telling them that to hush them up, but it bought us about twenty more minutes of peace and quiet as they anticipated our arrival and before we got called out. “Hey, it’s been more than five minutes!” A little dishonest? Sure. Necessary for our sanity? Oh definitely. I think sometimes this is how the writing life is. Like restless small children we want to know, how much longer until we arrive? Telling someone who is pouring their heart and soul into their work to “Just sit back and relax and enjoy the journey,” doesn’t really help—not right then anyway. It didn’t for me, but I can, gratefully, say that I have enjoyed every part of this writing journey. I loved finding an idea. I loved interviewing the people who could give me the details that would make my fictional story seem authentic. I loved immersing myself in another world, very different from my own real one. I loved getting to know the people who became my main characters. Once I did, I knew what they would say and do and how the story would go which was fascinating. I enjoyed sending off my manuscript with high hopes. Screech to a stop…I did NOT enjoy the rejections! However, the criticism that went along with them was useful and eventually led to acceptance, so I could compare it to a blown head gasket. (Why yes, I am married to a mechanical man!) It took some time to absorb and move on, but I was on the road again eventually. So is being published arrival? Maybe. A lot of people think so. For me, it’s been wonderful, exciting, nerve-wracking—a huge learning experience. BUT, I know I have so much more to learn. I hope I have a better book in me to write. I know I will keep trying until my dying breath. For me, arrival will be when I know deep down in my heart that I have truly written something that will change someone’s life for the better—not just entertained them for a few hours. So, five more minutes—at a time-I'm on the road for the whole trip.

Taking It Up a Notch

I think it was a good thing I'd posted my "positive thinking" blog right before I went to the writer's conference and had a critique on my work-in-progress. The agent said some really good things about style and voice and characterization--right before she told me (in no uncertain terms) my plot basically wouldn't work! At first I was a bit put out but then I took my own advice and let it kick my b--- into high gear. Can I just say I LOVE what's happening in my story now? This is what an editor or agent does best. She gets a writer to take his/her writing to the next level. The agent, Jennifer Rofe from Andrea Brown Literary Agency, didn't give me any specific advice. It was more the authority and expertise she brought to the conference that let me know that if she said it wouldn't work, it really wouldn't work. Back to the drawing board! My friend with the crazy creative brain and I bounced ideas back and forth that night until we were both really excited about the whole new direction the plot would take. I spent the week after conference hashing out the details, at least up to a point. I really like to leave some open ends and see what the characters want to happen. As long as they know where they need to end up, I let them have some leeway: ) This might be a job at times--and it definitely is--but it sure is a job I love!

A Single Footstep

A friend gave me a quote a few weeks ago that I immediately put on my inspiration board. (This is a bulletin board with quotes, pictures, and memorabilia that will hopefully spark a visit from The Muse.) The quote says: “A single footstep will not make a path on earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kinds of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.” This is something I need to remember because it is true. Whenever I get into a negative frame of mind, and bombard myself with the idea that I am not a good enough writer then, naturally, I have writer’s block. Something snaps me out of that way of thinking and I realize…Of course I’m not—YET—but I’m just getting started! Then the ideas begin flowing and I feel ready to tackle this hard, wonderful job once more. I feel joy in writing—whether it’s pounding away on my work-in-progress or making up a story for my grandchildren. A fellow writer said to me the other day that she thought that one of the hardest things we have to learn is what to internalize and what to ignore. Rejection letters or criticism can be valuable if they’re meant constructively or even if they're not. They can demoralize us or challenge us. It’s up to us to decide. After taking a hard (calm) look at the situation, then we can decide how (or if) we can use it to improve. Making a positive path is my goal. Here’s how it looks in my imagination: It has lots of interesting bends and curves, is lined with big ol’ trees, and is floored with fragrant pine needles. Right now, the leaves are changing, some whirling down delightfully, catching my eye. It’s cool and misty, promoting a sense of intrigue. I’m ambling along, kicking those negative thoughts out of the way like so much litter and collecting the optimistic ones in my Sweetgrass basket! I’d love to hear from others. Favorite quotes about staying positive, ideas to spark creativity, whatever!

My Precious

I’m eagerly anticipating the release of the new Hobbit movie. The fact that there will be THREE movies only adds to the excitement, and if I could, I would sign up for the extended version films already. I was flipping through the book the other day, enjoying Michael Hague’s excellent illustrations, when I saw one titled “The Precious.” I’ve been thinking about that a bit since then. Don’t we all have something, a material item, which is so precious to us that we would get slightly hysterical, i.e. turn into a raving lunatic like Gollum, if it were taken from us? Yes, we do. Right now, my precious is my Kindle. Since I get a little (okay, a lot) antsy if I don’t have a book waiting for me to read next—this is not counting the one that I am currently reading—my Kindle has eased my troubled heart. A push of the button… and I can get a book. No long uphill half-mile journey to the library in all kinds of weather. (Yes, we moved to our house because of its proximity to the library—it’s all about location, people.) No browsing for hours to find the true and living NEXT GOOD READ. Many times, these days, I let my fingers do the walking, right into the e-book section of the lending library or on over to Amazon.com. That’s not to say that I don’t still have an on-going love affair with the crisp feel and smell of ink-laden pages, or simply love the anticipation of shelves of books stretching out in front of me in the library—that will never change. I resisted having a Kindle because of those very things. Bah humbug, I said. No electronic reading device could ever intrigue ME. I am now eating my words. But at least I haven’t succumbed to the I-phone craze yet. All those boorish people who jump to look at their phones as soon as it beeps while you’re in the midst of a conversation! So rude. No, when I get mine on October 5th, I will definitely NOT do that. So there.

Delayed Dreams

When I look back, I find it so interesting that I spent the years between fifteen and fifty not writing a word since I feel so restless these days when I’m not writing something. I didn’t even keep a decent journal during that time. As a child and a teenager, I wrote stories—mostly silly stories about girl crushes on rock stars—and then had my self-confidence, which was shaky at best, quenched by a critical creative writing class. In spite of being an avid reader, I ignored my love affair with books and words and became a nurse instead. Then a wife. Then a mother. Then a home-school teacher. Then a bookstore clerk. It wasn’t until I was fifty that I pulled a book off the shelf in that bookstore, a book about writing, and felt the first stirrings of the old passion. I had convinced myself long before that I couldn’t really write so it took a while for the dream to take hold. Now on the eve of having a book published (two and a half months, people!), I feel like it’s still a bit of a dream. My first book is not a great book. It’s not even a really, really good book, although I love the story and the characters the way a mother loves her children—wholeheartedly, in spite of all the faults. But it’s a start and the path stretches in front of me in such an inviting way. Wendell J. Berry said, “I am discomforted by the knowledge that I don’t know how to write the books that I have not yet written, but that discomfort has an excitement about it, and it is the necessary antecedent of one of the best kinds of happiness.” So completely true is this statement that I have it on my inspiration board by my desk. I can’t wait to discover the stories and meet the characters that wait just around the bend! I feel a little impatient to uncover the skills and talent that will help me tell those stories better—but being patient is the key there, and being willing to work hard. I can do that. I will do that! We had a funny quote on the refrigerator for a while (purchased by my husband) which said, “When Mama ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.” Now it should read, “When Mama ain’t writin’, nobody’s happy.” Lucky for me—and for my family—my writing refuge is only a few steps away. Please share any sage advice or inspirational stories with this newbie that you might care to!

Flopping out?

As the time gets closer for my book to be published, I am facing the fear of failure. There is a possibility that my book may flop. In spite of my friends’ and families’ affirmations—they love me, after all—it might not be all that good. My publisher believed and took a risk, but there are no guarantees. I spent some time thinking and worrying about this yesterday and came up with the following: It is okay. True, it will be hard to face the embarrassment. It will hurt and sting when I read the reviews and people have nothing good to say about something I poured my heart and soul into. But I’m tough and I can take that. What I can’t face is the possibility that I might never have tried. What would be really hard is not having had this experience, no matter how public the humiliation. Life is meant to be lived with our hearts wide open, not avoided, and I truly can say that the joys of this journey outweigh any future distress. Mahatma Gandhi said: “My imperfections and failures are as much a blessing from God as my successes and my talents and I lay both at his feet.” The only true failure in life for me would be not to know Who to turn to when things get rough. I mean really, when all is said and done, what matters most is if this experience is making me grow and learn to be a better person, not just a writer. And I hope it is! I’ll close with a more humorous quote, not only because it’s so true, but because I love to laugh. “Never be afraid to try something new. Remember, amateurs built the ark, professionals built the Titanic.”

Medal Meanderings

Like everyone else, I’ve been watching the Olympics this week. I’ve especially been interested in gymnastics because my daughter competed in gymnastics for years. I could relate to Aly Raisman’s parents as they clinched their teeth, hid their eyes, moved back and forth in their seats, and put a death grip on the arm rests. I did all that trying to hold my daughter on the beam or making sure she didn’t miss the high bar on a release move! I could relate to the “mom” stories as I remembered long hours spent driving to and from the gym while juggling other children and trying to maintain a happy home. My daughter had her share of wins and I had more than my share of proud moments. The point of all this is, one day she decided that there was more to life than gymnastics. She might have gotten a college scholarship, but the Olympics were out of reach. She decided there were other goals to reach besides standing on the top of a podium in a smelly gym, and she moved on, putting her whole heart into other pursuits. Now, even though she does coach gymnastics part-time, (she’s a really strict coach, which I find hilarious since she bitterly complained that her own coaches were so hard on her)her heart belongs to her family. Sometimes we have to decide that enough is enough and move on. The book of our heart, no matter how well-written, will not be published, at least not with a traditional publisher. We can find a new story, throw ourselves into it wholeheartedly, and be happy. It doesn’t make us losers if we’re not published right away or even at all. Yes, we need to be goal oriented, but not at the expense of our mental health. Marriage counselors tell us to look back and remember why we fell in love with our husbands. As writers, we need to remember falling in love with writing and let those happy memories fire our enthusiasm and our creativity. Is the gold medal of writing a publishing contract or the soaring feeling you get when a plot falls into place and you’re thrilled with your characters? You decide! I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.

It Ain't Just the Heat

One hot day after another has me longing for fall. But it’s not just the heat and the fact that I’m tired of cowering inside my cool cave of “bought air.” The lure of a more organized schedule, the sense of excitement in the cool snap of morning air, the tantalizing aroma of wood smoke, the hope of the holidays—Halloween with its sense of fun and mystery, Thanksgiving and the opportunity to reflect and be grateful, Christmas with its sweetness and the overwhelming-but-delightful family gatherings...the anticipation for all these things have me pining for a new season. I can’t wait for the steamy hot days to melt into cooler nights and invigorating days. I love the rustle of leaves blowing in a breeze and the way they swirl around catching our dreams and carrying them aloft. I even love the really-chilly, murkier fall days that chase me inside—where I curl up on the couch and ponder the mysteries of life. Somehow these misty days create a sense of expectation, an inexplicable lure of hidden treasures right around the corner. We call them “Secret Garden Days” in our family. It seems perfect that my first book will come out in the fall, my favorite season. But for now, summer still holds more than a few pleasures. Cicadas sing and birds splash in the birdbath and teach their babies how to eat from the feeders. Long summer afternoons lure me out to the shady screen porch, ceiling fans on high, with a good book and a bowl of ripe watermelon. Grandkids splash in the pool, and me along with them ‘cause it’s too darn hot not to get wet. Maybe I’m not quite ready to be done with summer yet, now that I think about it. Still, a few days with the temperature under ninety degrees might be nice! What is your favorite season and why? I’d love to hear about it!

Just Sayin'

It seems like everyone is making lists these days on their blog. Top ten things to do this summer; top ten things NOT to do this summer; top ten things to see when you go to (fill in the blank), top ten recipes to try this summer, top ten things you need to take on summer vacation, top ten restaurants to go to while you’re traveling, or hotels to stay in, or parks to camp in, etc. They’re all fascinating and I feel the need to read every one of them, even if I’m not going on a road trip or to a restaurant or to a campground. Nor do I need advice with what to do with my summer—I have my own list which I have mostly ignored, thank you very much. Still, I can’t resist the lure to make my own list. But I think I’ll stick to five. So here goes. Five Things To Do In Your Life (Is that a BIG enough topic? Ha!) 1. Reach a goal: reaching one goal leads you to take risks, try harder, and learn more. Start small and work up. Dream Big and then share what you’ve learned. 2. Conquer a fear: doing something you are afraid of builds your confidence like nothing else. Picture yourself with arms outstretched flying high on the prow of a boat: I can conquer the world! Again, start small, and then take a leap of faith. Hold someone’s hand when they leap. 3. Nurture a child: if you’re not a mom or dad, get involved with children somehow—children slow us down and force us to notice the small stuff, teaching us about joy. Don’t worry about the messy house or serving leftovers--or even writing (did I just say that?). Consider the lilies of the field… 4. Learn to be grateful: for the bad days as well as the good. Each day teaches us something and appreciating and reflecting on lessons learned brings a sense of peace. Remember, sometimes God calms the storms; other times he lets the storms rage and calms His child. 5. Be rather than Do. Having a daily to-do list and checking things off gives us a sense of accomplishment. But, we need to be more concerned with who we are becoming rather than what we are doing each day. Sometimes, you gotta throw the list away and listen to a friend. (But not this list. Keep this list :-D) Now, if I could only say that I’ve truly accomplished all these things, I could sign off with a flourish. However, since I’m still living, I’m still learning. As soon as I make a little progress in one area, I slip up in another. Ah well, each new day brings opportunity! I’m just sayin’… Maybe the need to read Top Ten lists comes from our need to know what is important to someone, to know them a little better, part of our need to connect. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Have a need to share a list? Please, go for it!

Memories and Mayberry

Being a native born North Carolinian, I’ve been feeling sentimental since Andy Griffith died. I grew up with the Andy Griffith show and the days of my childhood weren’t so very different from the ones portrayed in the show, although I grew up in a much bigger town. It would be easy to say that those days were better times, but in many ways they were not. Mayberry was a delightful place, but the show didn’t delve very far into its shadows and dark corners. There was a lot of intolerance in the l960’s and ignorance that has finally, hopefully, been laid to rest. We have a ways to go, but we’re getting there. People say, “Those were friendlier times. People sat on their porches and talked to their neighbors more.” True; in my neighborhood we mostly go about our business until there’s a natural disaster or critical need and we all turn out and pull together. These days we have Facebook and social media where people find long lost friends and post things that make us laugh or cry or think hard. Sometimes they also post malicious rumors or lies, or scathing remarks when someone’s political or religious views differ with theirs. But back then, folks gossiped over the back fences and fed the rumor mill and shunned those that were “different” and that was just as hurtful. More so, because it was very personal. So we have to remember—I have to remember—that even though times have changed, and it’s tempting to think about how much we miss those times, there’s also much to be grateful for. We can feel sentimental and reminisce about the “good ol’ days” with friends who grew up in the same time period, while remembering the good things that have happened since 1960. We can, and should, hang on to our determination to teach our kids and grandkids the same good lessons Andy taught Opie about bein’ kind. Do you have a favorite memory of Andy and the Mayberry crowd? Well, Shezam! Please share!

A.W.O.L.

I’ve been absent from the blogosphere for a while. Between vacation and revisions, I’ve been really busy. Vacations are the great kind of busy, but you know, so are revisions. There’s something extremely satisfying in taking on the challenge of s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g oneself creatively to try to find a better way to tell parts of a story. And it’s also extremely satisfying to delete large chunks of “phew-eee stuff” (saving it, of course, in case I need to rescue a bit of it later) and replacing it with new and better stuff. Okay, new and hopefully better. Anyways…back to it, got a ways to go still. What’s been your experience with the revision process? Any good stories or advice out there?

Revisions. Sigh.

I was really excited to hear my editor say she was compiling some editing notes on Unity, the second book in the Dark Light Dance Trilogy. I missed thinking about Gabe and Laney and couldn’t wait to zip through it, making the changes here or there and reliving the story. Then, yesterday I actually got said notes. Can I just say there was a LOT of red? There was a LOT of RED. I went over the notes and had several different reactions. The first was…WHAT? Did she even read that part? Why doesn’t she get it? Oh. I guess if she doesn’t get it, other readers won’t either. Fine, I’ll fix that. The second was…Darn. I thought I changed that. I was sure I changed that. I meant to change that. Okay, I’ll fix it. The third was…extreme humiliation. Did I really use that word or phrase four times in the same paragraph? And I did what? Okay. Right, it needs a little work. Okay, (sigh), it needs a lot of work. Wouldn't it be fun to get this glowing letter—“WOW, this is GREAT!!!!!!” Notice the six exclamation points. “It hardly needs ANY thing. Just a comma here or there!” Of course, I knew I wouldn’t. Down deep. Right. Anywho. I’m going on vacation tomorrow, but I’m taking my laptop. I probably won’t actually work on it, just start jotting down some ideas. I’ll have beautiful mountain scenery and children and grandchildren galore who will provide excellent distraction that I will wholeheartedly embrace. I'll recharge the creative battery. I really did miss Gabe and Laney. I really do want to tell their story the very BEST way I can. Thank you, dear editor. And I really mean that.

Vacations

Summer is the time for vacations. Next week, we'll take off for Cherokee, North Carolina with the kids and grandkids for five days of camping (in a cabin--my days of sleeping on the ground are long gone!). Even though I've been there before, it's been a long time and I'll see things anew through the eyes of my grandchildren. I can't wait! Vacations--any journeys away from home--are good for the soul. Not only do they give us a chance to rest and relax, they renew our creative energy. I always seem to be hit with inspiration when I go on vacation, whether it's a day or a week. My very first book idea was conceived while gazing at the ocean with the happy shouts of grandchildren in the background. Something about that vast ocean and what might be on the other side stirs excitement within me and my imagination seems to take wing. As Anne Shirley would say, "There is such scope for the imagination!" Speaking of journeys, Ursula LeGuin said, "It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end." I find that to be very true. It's wonderful to have a book being published and, don't get me wrong, I am enjoying every single minute of the process, but the writing itself is where the real joy lies. I haven't been bothered with serious writing block yet. (I hope I'm not jinxing myself!) But having come to writing later in life, I feel a great urgency to give my ideas shape and form and my characters voices; to get their hopes and dreams, trials and triumphs down on the page. Their journey becomes my journey and we all learn from it. Back to vacations. Alas, we come to the end. We pack up and say goodbye to the sweet time together with hearts fuller and minds richer. And then, what is better than driving through our own home town and pulling up to our dear little home? We say, meaning it, "No place like home." So many memories flood in and our hearts get even fuller. This is where we bumped and rubbed against each other for years until we wore off the rough spots, until we became a comfortable fit. A Family. The vacation was wonderful but the journey of life is even better.

Never Too Late

One of my favorite quotes is from George Elliott. “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.” This is what encouraged my adventure with the writing world.

I didn’t write as a child. For a brief time, I wrote silly stories about adventures with The Monkees when I was a teenager along with my friend who also had a crush on them—and when I say silly, I mean it! Thankfully, I didn’t save those stories to reread or I might have lost my nerve when I decided to write.

I didn’t write as a young adult, or even as a middle-age adult, but was instead, an avid reader. I’m one of those people who, if I don’t have a new book ready to read when I’m half-way through one, I hurry to write “go to the library” on my To Do list.

No, I discovered writing as an older adult—not quite a senior citizen, but close! I never thought I could write a book; it took many life experiences to teach me that I could try anything. I had to learn that failure is just a stop on the journey, like refueling, and that it taught me as much, actually much more, than success.

Therefore, I went into it with a completely open mind. I cherished learning something new. The difference between this and learning other new skills was that it mattered more. Once I embraced the idea that I wanted to be a writer, I really, really wanted to be a writer. When I attended my first SCBWI conference, I was absolutely enthralled to be in the presence of so many writers and would-be writers. This was my world. I knew it immediately. I treasure the memory of sitting down at the computer, figuring out how to use Microsoft Word, and...typing.  

A few times I have regretted that I didn’t find this passion earlier. My story file is crammed so full of ideas that I will need to live to be at least a hundred with full mental faculties and finger-dexterity intact. Still, I think there is an advantage to coming to it later with so many life experiences to give me a positive mental attitude. The rejections hurt, of course they did, but it didn’t take me long—I gave myself about a week to fume and fuss—to start a new project with gusto.

My goals are not what they would have been if I had started when I was twenty, or even thirty. I don’t really care if I’m published by the Big Six. (I’m not even sure I can name them.) I like my little publisher and feel like they care about me—and most importantly, they share my worldview and my standards.

So, here I am at this stage of life with some new additions to my “personal dictionary” under contentment: (1) to let my imagination soar and create new worlds and people to live in them, (2) to constantly learn new skills to tell a story better.

Life is good, especially the writing life.

If you would like, share your thoughts about the writing life and how you came to it. Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?  

Laney Lowell moved across the country to escape her past, not to fall in love. But when she becomes friends with Gabe, a handsome artist plagued by a mysterious disease, she'll have to decide between facing his dark truth or walking away from him forever. This thrilling romance is full of twists that will keep you guessing to the last page.


Pre-Order Your Copy At Amazon.com Or 15% off At Line Upon Line Bookstore 919-387-7848

Secret Fire

I heard a great talk on Saturday at a meeting hosted by the Heart of Carolina Writer’s Group. Claudia Dain talked about theme. “Theme is one of those things you learn about in your high school English class,” she said, “and then tend to forget.” I was intrigued by her talk about the layers of theme. There are three. The first is specific to the book. For example, the theme of a particular book might be: Don’t ever, ever give up in what you believe. The next layer is the overall theme the author carries through multiple books which you might notice as a reader (but probably not—often the author doesn’t even realize it.) Perhaps the author tends to write books which have a smart, capable heroine who triumphs against all odds and the theme is female empowerment. 

But the third layer was the most captivating. The third layer is the secret fire that makes the author HAVE to write; it’s what she has to tell the world or she’ll just shrivel up and die. Ms. Dain said it can be summed up in one word and one word only. Since I heard the talk I’ve been trying to figure out what my secret fire is. I think I know. I think it’s …

Oh, did you think I would just tell you?

Sorry. You’re gonna have to read my books to figure it out.

If you know me and think you can guess, leave a comment!

Trees

The church that owns the property behind our house recently cut down most of the trees. I felt a pang of regret with each huge whomp as they came down. The chainsaws buzzed for days, followed by constant whining as the trees were fed into the chipper. Now the skyline behind our house looks completely different.

At first, I was really upset. I tried to think who I could call to protest this travesty of nature. But since the property belongs to the church, they have every right to chop down the trees and ruin my view. I get up really early so the hullabaloo of chainsaws and chippers wasn’t to my liking either, when I tried to sneak in a little nap in the afternoons. But again, there was nothing I could do about it.

What, you ask, does this story, incredibly interesting as it is—or is not—have to do with writing?

I’m getting there, be patient!

Here’s the clincher: Light floods into my backyard and house now. The trees were too far away to offer real shade and even though I loved watching them sway in the breeze and their leaves flutter down in the fall (except when they landed in my yard and pool), I find I…really kind of like it. The birds seem to have all flocked to my yard to fill all the trees and birdhouses which is good because they’re really fun to watch and even my Bwanna-hunter-cat Pepper can’t scare ALL of them away.

Here’s the analogy to writing. Chopping down trees is like revising your book. See, I told you I was getting there.

You think you can’t live without certain scenes or even characters, but when you mercilessly cut them out, light floods in and you can see the essence of your story. Birds, or ideas and inspiration, come to nibble at your feeders and build a nest. You have less leaves to rake, or story to refine, and you appreciate and fine-tune the one that is left.

Just as pruning, weeding, and cutting back

Are what will make the garden grow

Revising, rewriting, and polishing

Will also make the story glow.

Change of Scenery

My friend Jenny and I went to Asheville for a couple of days. Our goal, besides just getting away for a few days, was to meet and greet several YA authors at Malaprops Bookstore who we read and admire: Beth Revis, Carrie Ryan, Megan Miranda, Alan Gratz, and others. It was a wonderful opportunity and we both got some great advice and ideas.  One comment Alan made on Thursday night about having a critique partner tell you whether your book is getting across the message you meant it to, sparked a lively conversation between Jenny and I on Friday. In response to other comments, we talked about our critique group and whether it was pushing us to the next level. We discussed the three main points of a story: a character, their goal, and what keeps him/her from getting to the goal and whether our books meet that simple criteria. We chatted about Carrie's ability to mix beautiful literary style with the suspense of her zombie apocalypse plot and vowed to get there ourselves someday. Jenny got the reassurance she needed to know that she's on the right track with her queries and what she needs to do next while I got the push I needed to get an agent.

But what I loved most about our two-day retreat was how a simple change of scenery will recharge my batteries and give me inspiration. Walking the charming streets of downtown Asheville, surrounded by beautiful blue hills, inhaling deep lungfuls of cool air while being warmed by sunshine--somehow it opened the creative outlet and I knew how my work-in-progress should end. I worked on a scene that had been bugging me while sitting at Malaprops sipping Blue Mountain spring water. To my amazement, I found that I like taking my laptop with me and letting the stimulation of having people around give me ideas. I can, and should, leave my comfy office some days and change my perspective!

At Thursday night’s event, the authors answered a question about what they loved most about the writing life. I wasn’t surprised when they each came up with something different while also agreeing with everyone else’s answer. There’s just so much to love about writing that anyone who does it could go on and on…right on to happily ever after.

Mental Meanderings

What made me want to become a writer? Actually it was Harry Potter. Something happened to me when I read Harry Potter. I may have just happened to read Harry at the write time (get it? ha!) Harry Potter woke up something deep inside me. It took me back to that time when I was a child in love with books. Suddenly, just to be in the company of people who do this thing called writing seemed like the most important thing in the world and I began to dabble, not having the first idea what I was doing. I mentioned this to one of my friends who had written a book. She encouraged me to come with her to the SCBWI conference. I did and listened mesmerized as Anita Silvey talked about all my favorite children’s books; Anne of Green Gables, Wind in the Willows, The Secret Garden, Little House on the Prairie and on and on.

I can remember details about what I was doing and how I felt about every one of those. For example, I remember curling up on my bed with Little House. My bed had a soft white bedspread. The heat vent was right underneath and warm air blew up beside the bed, keeping me from shivering right along with the little girls that lived on the cold, cold Prairie. I was in little-girl-reader-heaven.

I read the Secret Garden curled up on the couch in front of our picture window. It was fall and the weather was cool and misty, just like I imagined the Moors would be. To this day, I call that kind of day a “secret garden day” and so do my kids.

I didn’t read Wind in the Willows as a child—but I read it to my children sitting out on a blanket after having a picnic lunch. Every day we’d retire to the shady place under the dogwood tree and have adventures with Mole, Rat, and Badger.

I read Anne of Green Gables as a young girl. I found Anne to be a true kindred spirit. I think Anne may be the reason I write for young adults rather than children.

These days creating worlds and the people who live in them gives me just as much joy as reading my first books as a child. As Anne would say: Ah, such scope for the imagination!

To market, to market...

...to buy a fat pig, as the nursery rhyme goes. Pigs are good. Very cute. I actually collect them. And, I love ham. I would look forward to a nice ham much more than to market, to market to sell my book!

You see, I like characters I make up, not strangers. I like my quiet office, not crowds. I like home, not traveling. I am…an introvert.

Ursula LeGuin said: “Hardly anybody ever writes anything nice about introverts. Extroverts rule. This is rather odd when you realize that about nineteen writers out of twenty are introverts. We have been taught to be ashamed of not being ‘outgoing.’ But a writer’s job is ‘ingoing.’”

I’m not a complete introvert. I like being alone some—okay, a lot—but eventually I want to get out and do something, see people, and have experiences. But let’s keep it within my comfort zone.

An online presence is okay. I’ve discovered I do like blogging. I like following other people’s blogs and feeling a kinship with what they’re saying about writing. I love talking to other writers via e-mail and Facebook and finding out how the creative process works for them. I think Twitter might be fun; I mean who doesn’t like birds and tweeting and all that? Meeting a few writers here and there in person; that’s okay too. So far, so good.

What I don’t like is what comes next. Marketing teams at most publishers want you to be IN THE PUBLIC EYE. (Loud, booming voice.) It’s all about making connections, getting out there and talking about yourself and your book.

Me???? Scary! Stranger Danger!

I was contemplating this with my usual anxiety when another quote came into my head. My inner voice, the one that’s always trying to kick me out of my comfort zone so I can grow, said, “Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet.”

Really? Wow. That’s a nice thought. Are you sure?

“Yes. Definitely.” My inner voice is often very firm with me.

Okay then. New friends are great!

Maybe…it will be fun.

Inspiration

Beautiful places play a big part in my book. My characters first meet at the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge. They spend long summer days walking the trails and canoeing the waterways while they get to know each other. The Scuppernong River is across the road from Laney’s house and she does a lot of time thinking and dreaming on the river bank, mostly about Gabe :-).

This is because nature is such an inspiration to me. I’m definitely not a coffee-shop writer. I like the peace and quiet of my cozy office. My desk sits in front of a window where I have a view of the trees and the sky and can watch the birds having a bite at the feeder or taking a bath. Or I take my laptop to the back porch—screened, because I may love nature but that doesn’t mean I love all those buzzy critters to join me!

That reminds me of a funny story. My daughter Laura and I went to take some pictures of Columbia and the Refuge in November for the Facebook page. It was hunting season, so we wisely took our orange vests—which was good because my crazy daughter wore olive green. She truly looked like she had on camouflage gear. We got out there and put on our vests, ready to go. We only got a couple of hundred feet from the car before we were swarmed by mosquitoes. They were so thick that we were literally in a black cloud. Wow! We ran back to the car and tried to kill as many as we could with our hands before we dove inside. I can only imagine the hilarious picture we made, running and slapping each other, and hollering. Then once in the car, panting like we’d just been chased by a bear, we dissolved into giggles. Instead of orange vests, we should have brought mosquito netting. Or at least, the highest power bug spray on the market!

And of course, that reminds me of another funny story. When I first heard of the red wolves in North Carolina, my husband Tom and I went to investigate. He spent years as a scoutmaster, so being prepared is second nature to him. Before heading out to the Refuge, he suggested we go into Columbia Pharmacy to get some bug spray. Okay, I’m from Charlotte and spent the last twenty years in Raleigh, so it never occurred to us that there are still places that do cash only. We counted out our dollar bills, quarters and nickels to purchase the bug spray, which was eight dollars, mind you—but still, it’s the cutest little Pharmacy ever! I fell in love with the town, the people, the wolves, and the Refuge…

Thus, the book.

Growing

I love the way my house feels in the early Spring. It's so cool in the mornings with my windows open, that I have to run my little heater under the desk to keep my feet warm. Pollen or not, I can't resist opening the windows. Sometimes, I need hot cocoa or orange spice herbal tea to warm me from the inside out. By the afternoon, I'm closing the shade and turning on the fan. I switch to ice water and the glass sweats and so do I. Rivulets of water run down it and me. Winter to start, summer to end.
Most of my days begin with an early morning scripture study class with the teenagers at my church. It's dark and cold and hard to pull myself out from under the cozy covers. But there's nothing like the peace of the starlit morning. Teaching the Gospel and cute, sleepy teenagers that I love--it's worth it. By the time I leave church, the sun is coming up over Lake Benson and the birds sing me home. The tough start is balanced with the sweet calm of daybreak. Ah, each new day, a new start...
Writing is also full of opposition. Writing is hard. It's hard to pull it all together, to decide what goes where and who does what and figure out the transitions between. Which scenes and even which characters to keep--and which to kill off. Balancing showing and telling. Letting your characters have their way or reigning them in. Letting them suffer, adding one trial upon another, forcing them to grow before you bring them to the end and allow them a little moment of peace and comfort. And let's not even talk about the way we writers squirm during critiques and the pain of rejections after we've poured out our soul on paper for everyone to see and step on.
And then again, writing is easy. You get to participate in the act of creation. James M. Frey said, "When we read good fiction, we are witnessing the vast and wondrous river of life, and the river of life is ever-changing. It's no wonder writers love writing so much. We get to live so many lives, feel so many emotions, dream so many dreams." So achingly beautiful and true. There's just nothing like it in the world.
Sometimes, we think we might like a little less opposition. But would the highs be so high if the lows weren't so low? Probably not. I know, just like my characters, opposition makes me grow.
And there's always the happy ending to look forward to...

Beginnings

I named this blog "Writing Refuge" not solely as a tribute to my first book, but more as a description of what writing has become for me. I love taking refuge in ideas and characters, in creation and imagination, in plotting and prose. I never could have imagined the highs--or the lows--that writing could bring. For the most part, it's made me extremely happy. Struggling with plot points, with critiques that I didn't like, with characters who refused to grow or worse, who tried to take over, has been a delicious journey that I hope to be on for a long, long time. Who would have thought that middle age (okay, maybe a little past that, but anyway) would bring so many new beginnings? I surely never would have believed it. But as George Elliot said, "It's never too late to be what you might have been." And that applies to more than just writing...