Glimpses

Is brilliance subjective?

Brilliant men are often strikingly ineffectual; they fail to realize that the brilliant insight is not by itself achievement. They never have learned that insights become effectiveness only through hard systematic work.
---Peter Drucker
__________________________
I'd like to believe that I'm fairly intelligent. Certainly not brilliant, but more than capable of absorbing, retaining and putting to use the various avenues of information that come my way.

So I get the day's headlines from my MSN homepage rather than the black-and-white print of the Daily News. What can I say? Put anything in colored, vibrant fonts and you pretty much have my attention. Once you have it though, I learn a lot.

Oh, and I stay current with pop artists and legendary greats, alike, by flipping through an occasional issue of People. Guilty pleasure? Sure, but I also live in a world that is ruled by standards set by the entertainment and political industries and this keeps me abreast of changing cultures, moods, and gives me a "heads-up" about the world my kids are about to enter as adults.

I listen to, read about and - eventually write on - subjects that fall at both ends of the spectrum in today's headlines. When it comes to literature I like to read, well...that ranges from biographies on political figures to the latest chick-lit published in the CBA world to an occasional suspense drama. I'd like to say I'm well-read.

Just like I'd like to say I'm intelligent.

But I had an experience last summer that made me wonder...

I joined a few writer friends over a year ago in a book club adventure that we were *sure* would be an eye-opening experience for us. It was, just not in the way we expected.

As you probably know, Oprah's book picks concentrate on the great classics. Last summer she chose three of William Faulkner's works for the months of June - August. These were her words: Dear Reader, I've always believed that you cannot call yourself a real reader unless you have read some of Faulkener.

She went on to say that "his brilliance makes you feel more brilliant." Wow. What high commendation...

Wonderful, we thought. It just so happened that all four of us had managed to escape all of our collective literature classes without having ever cracked open a Faulkner book. So it was with great anticipation that Nathan and I made the trek to the book department at Wal-Mart and purchased the three-book collection. (Note: thank goodness we purchased it here for a mere $19.97 - you'll understand why later)

Back home, I could hardly wait to tear away the crunchy celophane wrapping and then lovingly finger the three-volume set. I love the feel of new books.

As I Lay Dying, The Sound and the Fury, and Light in August.

Three masterpieces just waiting for my reading pleasure. And to top that, not only would I be reading great classics, but I would absorb so much literary knowledge from one of the great literary minds of the turn of the century.

Right? You'd certainly think so. Hope so...After all, Oprah said...

I began to read As I Lay Dying that very afternoon. After one hour of solid reading it was clear I was in big trouble. I'd been prepared for the challenge - reading the masterpieces are always a bit challenging. They inspire you, provoke you, nudge you into a new and higher realm of thinking and reasoning. But this book just puzzled me. Not only could I not keep up with which character was doing what and when (by the way, no publisher would allow this type of writing to sit for ten minutes on their desk today), but I also found myself horribly depressed by the subject matter.

In a nutshell, this book is Faulkener's harrowing account of a family's odyssey across the Mississippi countryside to bury Addie, their wife and mother. The book opens with Cash, one of the several sons, constructing the casket that would house their mother's dead body.

After she died, of course. For the time being, the sick and ailing Addie sat in a window, scarcely two feet from where Cash worked, watching as her son prepared for her demise.

I continued to read, but I have to admit, I was no longer sure about this book I'd been so excited about. Still, I read on. I mean, how could I admit to my other writing friends that ...I didn't get Faulkener? Wouldn't that be a blatant admission of ignorance? Or, at the very least, an indication that maybe I was a bit spoiled to easier reads?

I finally confessed. I couldn't stand it any longer. I either just don't "get" this classic, my email admitted it all, or maybe I'm just a dunce.

I was flooded with relief as the emails began to drift back to me. No one else got Faulkener either. This made me sigh in relief. And really made me think about brilliance and about each one's definition of that term. As one of my writing friends said, "Don't you just have to wonder if maybe the people who say this is brilliant don't really get it either? LOL It's like one person said it was brilliant so we all have to agree."

Oprah had told us Faulkener was brilliant. And I don't argue that he was for his time and his place in the world. But I learned an important lesson on that summer afternoon.

Don't set your intelligence level according to what Oprah claims is the norm.

Faulkener himself said this: "Read, read, read. Read everything--trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it is good, you'll find out. If it's not, throw it out the window."

Now that, folks...is brilliance!

I'm distracted.

But not by TV.

This week is scaring me, and it's just now 8:30 on Monday morning! I have three major exams this week: Psychology, Am. Lit, and Texas Government. If you overlook the part where I'm two chapters behind on my reading in Psych, one chapter behind in Government, and have about half a novel to finish before Thursday for my Lit class, then it'll all probably be okay. But factor in this very prominent truth and...well, I'm scared.

BUT...

I was up at 4:45 this morning, drinking a cup of half-caff and making a detailed to-do list for today. I know it can all be done, including the word count, if I'm diligent and focused. So I'll try to ignore the rain and the way it makes me just want to go lie down somewhere and I'll sit and read, write, and study, knowing all the while that in five short days ('cause come on, aren't they getting shorter?) this crazy, crazy week will be history.

And hopefully I'll have a few A's and a nice word count to show for it.

I'm posting the current word count for those of you who have asked in the past week or so. You'll notice the pace has slowed. This tends to happen as I "lose" some words as I go back and rearrange some scenes. I'm anxious to see the number begin a steady rise again!

I'm off to begin The List. If you miss me this week, just know I am memorizing parts of the brain and Erikson's stages of development, finishing the last few remaining chapters of Pudden'head Wilson, spending some time with Faith & Marshall and the whole Finding Faith gang, as well as lavishing some attention on my guys here at home.

Have a great week, friends!

10,000+ words and counting

TGIF!

I swallowed a healthy dose of self-discipline each and every morning this week. Between that and the super-glue that I applied to both my backside and my desk chair, I somehow managed to write my daily word count, even on days when I had classes. I'm thinking a party's in order, what do you all think?

Here's the kicker. Now that I *know* it can be done, I'm having to deposit all my really great-sounding excuses right where they belong - in the proverbial trash can. No more blaming homework, or laundry, or projects, or grocery shopping, or... (Are you getting the picture yet?)

Beginning a story for me is like trying to decide how best to eat an elephant. It's overwhelming, and feels nigh near impossible. You'd think the fact that I have six more completed novels behind me that I would have figured out by now that the new story is, not only possible, but very probable.

But there is just something about a big 'ol blank page that sends me reeling every. single. time. This week was no different. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I talked to God and told Him how I felt about it all. I know I'm supposed to write. I know I'm supposed to write THIS story. And in the way that only He can, He gently nudged me forward.

I began to type. I allowed the story to form in my mind and then did my best to capture it on my keyboard. Soon that blank page was filled and a new blank page scrolled in. By the time I had hit page five or six I no longer viewed or thought of the pages as empty. My God truly amazes me.

Today is Day Five of Finding Faith and the word count for this week is 5252. While this is still the very beginning, my heart is rejoicing tonight. I'm also feeling a little sheepish. 'Cause it's official, folks - I've been a slacker!

It turns out that I CAN do a couple loads of laundry, write, attend a few classes, write a couple of papers, and be a loving wife, mother, daughter, and friend.

I think my guys are in the other room right now wondering if I can add COOK to this list. Who do they think I am? Wonderwoman?

Oh, all right. I'll see what I can whip up...

I will praise you in this storm

As you know, I started Finding Faith this week. For those of you who read Saving Grace, you might remember Marshall, Grace's childhood friend from her days at Sycamore Manor. This is the story of Marshall and Faith.

Faith Chandler, thirty-two, wakes up one morning to one of the greatest fears known to women. An illness she feels ill equipped to handle. Immediately, her mind and emotions begin a tug-of-war, one invoking rationalization, the other - sheer panic. An enthusiastic junior high school English teacher, Faith's future - the one she thought she had forever to plan - seems suddenly overcast. Desperate to create some kind of logic out of the myriad of emotional chaos, Faith begins the journey to find answers to her past. This journey leads her to the front door of Sycamore Manor.

Thirty-six year old Marshall Morgan finds fulfillment in his work. The CEO and director of the teen pregnancy home founded by his late grandmother, he takes pride in what he's come to view as a ministry of sorts. Still, there's a vacancy in his heart, a place for a special woman that the Lord has yet to reveal to him. And then...there is his secret, the one he intends to share with no one, except the woman who will one day become his wife. When petite, dark-haired Faith Chandler walks through his door, searching for answers to her past, he wonders if - at last - he is meeting the woman who will make his life complete.

As always seems to happen, I become very emotionally involved in my characters' lives. I can't really explain how this happens. Believe me, on Monday when I started this story, I was still clueless to a lot of bits and pieces that were still missing from this story. I always begin a story with faith of my own. Faith that somehow, sometime, the story will come together and will ultimately be the book it was intended to be.

Today is the fourth day of writing and already Marshall and Faith are speaking to me. I'm feeling their issues: her fear, his lonliness, and the sparks of hope that alight whenever God places someone in our life to help illuminate the path of uncertainty.

The song, I Will Praise You in This Storm, by Casting Crowns, has been on my mind since Monday. I can't seem to get it out of my head so, quite simply, it has become the "theme song" for Marshall and Faith's story.

I hope it speaks to you as much as it speaks to me...

and we're off!

Today I started writing Finding Faith, the sequel to Saving Grace. Trying to merge a writing career with a full-time college schedule, plus family and household responsibilities has proven to be more of a challenge than I'd thought.

Still, I'm determined that it CAN be done. And, for today anyway, I'm elated to have defeated the "blank page" and finally have clocked out the day with a little over 1200 words. Not bad when you consider that I would stare at the blank opened page in Word for a while, then browse some of my favorite blogs, then go back to pondering the blank page, then surf a few scrapbooking sites. I know, I know...I was bitten in a large way by a very mean, very determined procrastination "bug."

I don't know why the beginning of a story frightens me so. The intimidation fills me with fear and this overwhelming feeling of "I'll never be able to do this again!" I admire writers who love the beginning processes. Me, I'm more of a middle-story gal. I like the smooth-flowing continuity of characters and plot-lines. I feel safe there, and in control. But the beginnings and the endings...wow, they can really knock me for a loop.

Anyway, I'm going to try to hold myself accountable to you, my readers and my friends, by logging my word count once a week. That way, you can see the progress I'm making and also the mood I'm currently in concerning the story. Let me tell you though - the moods can vary from "Gee, I love this writing life!" all the way to "I wanna drop-kick this computer right out the back door!" So...if you're brave (and don't live right outside my back door) then you're cordially invited to help hold me accountable to this story. This tracking meter is set to 50,000 words but the book will actually have closer to 90K. So my initial excitement at seeing that I'm 2% there (!) was a bit premature.

For now, I'm going to put on my shoes and go out for a celebratory Sonic Diet Coke. I conquered the blank page and if that doesn't call for my all-time favorite crushed ice and beverage of choice, then I surely don't know what does!

silence, it's golden

Sow a thought, and you reap an act;
Sow an act, and you reap a habit;
Sow a habit, and you reap a character;
Sow a character, and you reap a destiny.

---Charles Reade, English Novelist

______________________________________

Writing is a solitary occupation.

Many days I go for hours at a time without any verbal communication. From the time I sit down at my desk with a steaming mug of coffee around 8:30 a.m. until I finally tie up loose ends around 3, I am alone.

Although I talk - basically all day.

Or maybe I should say I listen.

I've listened to Ella and to Luke, to Jackson and to Emma...Now, most days, I listen to Dottie and her crazy friends, Camille and Rachel, as they strive to find balanced lives in my new Mom-Lit series, MomCents: just say no!

My characters constantly whisper in my ear, their animated conversations reverberating through the hallways of my mind, playing on the front porch of my conscience. They smile, they cry,they shout, and call for me, always urging me to stay around and hear what they have to say.

Is it any wonder then that on some evenings my family glances at me in curiosity, wondering if I'm okay. "Why are you so quiet tonight?"

I'm a talker by nature, a full-fledged communicator, and they know this. And yet, for these few moments I crave the silence, the peace of just...being.

I shrug. "I don't know...I guess I've used up all my words for today."

It's at that moment that I realize something. In the process of my work day I had spent six hours at the computer - hearing, feeling, seeing - a kaleidoscope of emotions, all played out on the big screen of my mind.

I've said it all.

I've heard it all.

I've felt it all.

It's time to recharge.

And how do I do this?

Solitude.

Some folks recharge their depleted proverbial batteries by losing themselves in a crowd of people. They draw a much needed jolt from the energy that is radiated off others. Though they may enter the room exhausted, this type of person will leave at the end of the night renewed, invigorated.

And then there's folks like me.

Put me in a quiet room, dim the lights, turn on some soft music, and close the door. It's only then that I begin to feel like myself again. The noise around me and inside me becomes muted, raw emotion loses its ragged edge, and calm begins to seep through the pores of my skin. Bit by bit, minute by minute, I'm infused with regenerated inspiration, renewed enthusiasm, and optimism that but a short while ago seemed all but impossible.

It's in those times, those moments of solitude, that I hear the voice of God the clearest. In my vulnerable state I'm at the very place where His gentle probing and prompting can make its way with ease through my soul.

Once again I feel the tingles of inspiration.

I see with clarity the plan He has for me.

And I listen with bated breath as He whispers encouragement to a soul that has grown parched and weary throughout the day.

It's as close to heaven as I've come, and I've learned to look forward to these times of solitude. For me, being alone is the farthest thing from lonliness. Instead, it's where I draw fresh strength, examine weaknesses, and learn the things about me that only He can teach.

Do you hear that...?

...the sound of silence calling to you?

It's golden.

13 Steps to Hosting a Blog Tour for SAVING GRACE

I'm looking to do a blog tour for my new novel, Saving Grace, which just released.  Here's thirteen easy steps showing you exactly how you can be a part!

1. Saving Grace is my brand-new inspirational novel, just released two weeks ago.
2. The story deals with grief, forgiveness, and grace.
3. While the book retails for $14.99...
4. if you host an introduction to the book to your readers,
5. then I will send you your very own free copy.
6. Feel free to keep it for yourself, or give it to one of your readers, or to a friend.
7. If you are interested, simply email me (my email link is in the right-hand sidebar) and/or leave a comment.
8. I will then send you the book,
9. a link to the prologue and Chapter One (which you can then post in part or whole on your blog),
10. answers to Interview questions (if you'd like them),
11. and a pre-written article about the book.
12. This a great way to get a brand-new free book while, at the same time, introducing your friends and family to great inspirational fiction.
13. And...you'd be helping me out tremendously as I promote Saving Grace!

ONE FRIGHTENING SUMMER...

Thirty-four-year-old Grace Davenport's childhood memories are less than idyllic. Raised by an alcoholic mother, Grace learned to fend for herself in the midst of chaos. Her sixteenth summer shattered her innocence, plunging her headfirst into a nightmare that followed her into adulthood.

A PAST SHE'D ALMOST FORGOTTEN...

Determined to put the painful past far behind her, Grace picks up the broken pieces of her heart and forges a future, finding love along the way. Finally the pain is vanquished, a dim memory of a life she once knew. That is, until the day the phone rings and Grace hears the one voice she'd never expected to hear again. Suddenly the terror of that fateful summer is back, and Grace is face to face with the haunted memories she thought she'd laid to rest.

TWO PEOPLE CAN HELP HER RECONCILE THE PAIN OF THE PAST WITH THE JOY OF THE FUTURE...

One hope remains, but it requires a huge leap of faith - one Grace isn't prepared to make. Hope for a promising future means delving into the painful past - and accepting help from two very unlikely sources...

IF SHE'LL ONLY LET THEM

Coldwater Revival

A few weeks ago I received a book in the mail that totally captivated me. Coldwater Revival, by Nancy Jo Jenkins, a fellow ACFWer. Nancy's debut novel is full of southern charm and laced with whimsical lyricism that captures your heart on the very first page and doesn't release it until the last paragraph fades from your memory.

If you'd like to win a copy of this book for yourself, please leave a comment for me and you'll be automatically entered into a drawing that will take place on August 18th.

About the Author:

(in her own words)

I’m a southern girl, born in Texas and have lived here all my life. I come from a large family. My daddy’s parents had fifteen children, thirteen of whom lived to adulthood. There were seven sons and six daughters. A baker’s dozen, so to speak.

My grandparents sent all seven sons – plus one grandson – off to fight in World War II. All returned safely, though my dad suffered back injuries when his ship was attacked in the South Pacific. Our annual family reunions usually pack in around two-hundred and fifty attendees.

Family has remained a strong influence in my life. Perhaps it was my family background that precipitated the writing of Coldwater Revival. I remember many get-togethers where love and laughter flowed like honey, but where there was sometimes a bit of “scrapping” going on, as well. Maybe it was during one of those rowdy gatherings that the seed of Coldwater Revival was planted in my heart.

I taught grade school (special education and second grade) for twenty-one years, and I absolutely loved working with children. Now I have beautiful grandchildren to dote on. But during the last ten years of teaching, I dreamed of the day I could write the stories that God had placed in my heart.

Coldwater Revival is one of those stories. The Falins are a farming family who lived in rural Texas in the 1920’s and 30’s. Emma Grace’s story is one of love, tragic loss, forgiveness, and survival.

About the Book:

Just three weeks before her wedding, Emma Grace Falin has returned to her hometown of Coldwater, Texas, consumed by a single, burning desire. She must confront the guilt and shame of a devastating event that has haunted her since childhood.

THE INTERVIEW:

Q.   How long did it take you to write Coldwater Revival?

A.   I perceived the idea for Coldwater Revival in June, 2003, and completed the manuscript in March, 2005.

Q.  Tell us about your journey from writer to published novelist.

A.   During my teaching career, I dreamed of the day when I could write the stories that continually swam around in my head. I didn't know at the time that it would take me four or five years of attending workshops, conferences, retreats, lectures, and of studying tapes, books and other materials before I was ready to put my newly-acquired knowledge to use, and begin writing the stories that God had prompted me to write. In March, 2004, at the Mount Hermon Christian Writing Conference, I submitted a book proposal to Steve Laube (Literary agent), and Jeff Dunn, (Acquisitions Editor) for RiverOak. Both gentlemen asked me to send them all I had written on Coldwater Revival, which at the time was 109 pages. During the summer of 2004, both men offered me a contract. My book was published by RiverOak and released in May, 2006.   

Q.  The agony and healing Emma Grace went through are so real. What personal
experiences did you draw from to portray Emma Grace's feelings so well?       

A.   There was a time in my life when I suffered with depression, though it was not due to a death in the family, as Emma Grace's was. At the time, it seemed that I was in a daily knock-down, drag-out fistfight with sadness. I was truly blessed in that I was never prescribed any kind of medication to treat my depression, which proved to be relatively short-lived. But I did receive counseling, which was just what I needed to win the battle with this debilitating condition. During that time of depression I endured many of the symptoms that Emma Grace suffered through. Excessive sleeping was about the only symptom we did not share. There were times when I couldn't swallow my food, and times when I could almost touch the face of that same blackness that almost overwhelmed Emma Grace. Her sorrow and guilt were difficult scenes for me to write, and I found myself crying each time I wrote about Emma Grace's sadness and the continual ache in her heart. 

Q.   Emma Grace loses all desire for life when her brother dies - not eating or talking, just living in the blissful cocoon of sleep. Do you have any advice for folks who are in that dark place right now?

A.   Communication was the key that unlocked the door of depression for me. Communicate with God, even if the only words you can utter are the words, "Help me." But I also benefited greatly from talking to a certified counselor; one who was trained in helping people express their pain, their needs, their fears. I hope that anyone who feels sad and lonely for an extended length of time, will contact their pastor, or someone who can direct them to a Christian counselor.

Q.    Emma Grace's grandmother lives in the city while the rest of the family lives in the country. Why do you think she didn't move out to the country with the rest of the family long ago?

A.    Granny Falin immigrated from Ireland to America with her husband and son when Emma Grace's papa was just a lad. This family shared a dream about their new country. It would be a place where they could find work and prosperity, raise their family, and put down roots. Even the Great Hurricane of 1900 couldn't wash those dreams from Granny's heart. Though her only remaining child lived a hundred miles away in the rural township of Coldwater, Texas, Granny could never leave Galveston. The island and the sea that surrounded the island were her home now. It was where the ashes of her husband and three children were buried. It was the home she and her husband had dreamed of during their desperate years together in Ireland. If she left Galveston and moved to Roan's home, she would be giving up the dream she had shared with her husband.          

Q.   Papa and Elo have a tough time showing their emotions. Elo, especially, is so hard to read in the book. Why do you think some people hole up inside themselves rather than sharing their emotions?

A.   I believe we are born with a portion of our personality already deeply embedded within us. Some people are reticent to express their feelings and emotions, while others have no problem whatsoever in expressing what they feel or think. I have known many individuals who are like Elo; people we sometimes refer to as "the strong, silent type". Papa and Elo are powerful protectors and providers who waste little time and effort on words. Both of these men feel that "actions speak louder than words". Added to that is the fact that Elo feels extreme discomfort when his mother and sisters are emotionally distraught, therefore, he maintains a rigid demeanor, in part, to provide a stable link in the chain that makes up his family - The Falins.

Q.   Do you have other books coming out soon?

A.   Thank you for asking about my upcoming books. I'm about to submit my proposal for a novel entitileld, "Whisper Mountain". This story takes place in the early 1900's in the Great Smoky Mountains. It is the story about lost love, and a desperate woman's journey to fill the void that deprivation and loss have left in her heart. The story has elements of mystery, intrigue, murder, and of course, romance. I'm very excited about this story. I've also begun writing a sequel to "Coldwater Revival" which will parallel both Emma Grace's life after 1933, and the adventurous trek Elo begins when he falls in love.

waiting on Ella

I can't find Ella.

I haven't heard from her in a couple of weeks. It's probably my fault. I've been so preoccupied working on upcoming scripts for The Next Chapter, trying to get my team in place for Relay for Life, and reading more for pleasure than for work that...well, I've lost track of her.

Before I come across sounding like a blase mother or an unconcerned friend, let me explain.

Ella Paglia is the heroine in my latest WIP. We've grown quite close and I know her story well. At least, I thought I did! I'm having a few doubts this morning, but I've been through this enough by now to know she'll show up again. And, if experience is the best teacher, I know that the less I stress, the quicker she'll be back.

And I don't want to "miss" her too much right now, because I know she'll still be a part of my family (kind of like a close cousin or a best friend from way back-come-to-visit) long after THE END is typed. The manuscript will get edited, sent to my agent, and begin making the rounds to various publishers and...Ella, Luke, and Reggie -- well, they'll still be hanging around our house.

It was that way with Gwen and Henry. And Grace and Kyle. (Although Grace had a *legal* name change and now goes by Ava!) And, most recently, we've continued to have visits from Emma and Jackson.

If you're wondering what I mean by this, or if I've gone totally off my rocker, the facts are that my family gets involved with these characters too! Sometimes we'll be sitting in a restaurant and Mike will nudge me, "Hey," he whispers, "Henry and Gwen just walked in!" And, sure enough, there's an elderly couple who resemble our beloved Freemans enough to be their living, breathing twins! So cool when that happens.

Or the time when, right smack in the middle of a church service, Mike (who is ushering that night) sidles up next to me, bends down and whispers (again!), "Mac is here tonight!" Now no one else would know this, but he's right. A short young girl with jet-black hair, dark red lips, pierced nose, and visible tatoos has taken a seat on a pew near the back. Unbelievable...

So I'm not too worried about Ella. I know she'll be back and, together, we'll tell her story. She's a lot like me in several ways and there's a certain vulnerability in that. I'm sure that on some days, it's just plain easier to work on scripts or read another chapter in Angela Hunt's THE NOTE than it is to delve into Ella's life.

But it's a story to be told. By me.

So, for today, I'll work alone, trying to recall the details, the quirks, the nuances that will lend this story a stable foundation. And, when Ella returns again, I'll have the essence that will breathe life into a story I want to be told.

By me.

5,682 / 75,000 (7.0%)

MELROSE MIRACLE Progress - Ella's story