I first heard Jane Kirkpatrick’s name in a conference planning meeting, when one of our members suggested her as a main speaker. Always interested in historical fiction, I immediately ran to the library to check out her books. What I have read so far has impressed me. Jane is a meticulous historian who somehow manages to capture the characters of people who lived hundreds of years ago. She records their stories in a way that makes history come alive.
A Gathering of Finches is based on the story of Cassie Hendrick Stearns Simpson, a pioneer woman in Oregon in the 1900s. Kirkpatrick traces Cassie's story from her childhood in New York to her trip across America with new husband and her adulthood (and relationships) in Oregon.
Cassie grows up in New York and marries her first husband at age 18, just after her father’s death, and follows him out to the west coast. Her husband loves and admires her, but Cassie is unable to return his love, turning to other things to fill the void she feels inside. She goes to suffragette meetings, rides her horse, parties as hard as she can, yet none of it fulfills her.
A severe illness following the birth of her first and only child in New York distances Cassie from her daughter. The illness also reveals the heart condition that will plague her for the rest of her life and eventually cause her death. Life goes on as Cassie returns to Oregon with her daughter and a friend in tow. Finally, in her late twenties, Cassie falls in love—with Louis Simpson, a handsome, dashing man several years her junior.
Theirs is an intense, passionate love affair that eventually causes Cassie’s divorce. She leaves town with Louis and they start a new life together, pretending they are married. Yet that lie, and the other secrets they hold, push them apart. Cassie pursues her pleasures, doing whatever she wants while Louis keeps busy with his projects about the town. One almost wonders how someone can be as self-centered and blind as Cassie, and yet at the same time, it is easy to understand the way she brushes things aside and does not want to deal with anything that could be difficult.
At a turning point in Cassie’s life, as she begins to realize what joy there is in loving and giving to others, Kirkpatrick borrows a technique from Wilkie Colllins by switching narrators. Most of the story is told in first-person by Cassie, but here Kirkpatrick gives us the viewpoints and opinions of several other characters, including Louis. These provide additional insights into her story and character. Lottie, Cassie’s maid, appears and is also the narrator at the end of the story, giving the closing moments of Cassie’s life.
Jane Kirkpatrick's exhaustive research into Cassie's life is evident throughout the novel. The details of Cassie's everyday life bring the story alive, along with Jane's ability to inhabit Cassie's head and imagine her thoughts and feelings.
On her blog, Jane talks about what she learned from Cassie: "What I loved about discovering her life was how she redeemed herself with her daughter and also how she gave back to the community by working tirelessly to raise funds for the refugees in World War I. Today, we can all visit Shore Acres State Park on the Oregon Coast and see the garden her husband developed for her. Five acres of absolute beauty and respite. Cassie reminded me that we all make mistakes and it's what we do about them that matters."
Jane Kirkpatrick is a writer, speaker and teacher who has published over twenty books. Many of her novels are historical fiction that trace the untold stories of the women who had a large impact upon American's history, such as Cassie in Oregon and Ivy Cromartie Stranahan in Florida. Jane grew up in Wisconsin and now lives in Oregon with her husband. She has a master's degree in social work. For more information about Jane or her books, visit her website.
One thing I found fascinating about the whole story was the fact that, while it is fiction, it is fiction based upon fact. The author even discusses how she gathered her information and what is based on fact in an afterword to the novel. I found myself constantly remembering that most of what I was reading actually happened—Cassie really did all of that. This brought an added dimension to the story and to Kirkpatrick’s skill in portraying Cassie’s motives, passions, and life.
Jane Kirkpatrick is the main speaker at the 2008 ICWF Fall Conference.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
Writing as Exploration
Writing is an exploration, an investigation, if you will, of one person’s brain. Through the works of the great writers over the centuries, we can see their creativity, their personality, their opinions, their humour, their styles. Picture your favourite authors and how you think of them based on what you have read of their works. No two of them are the same. Their writing is like a fingerprint – a fingerprint of their brain.
Growing up, I filled pages of journals with the jottings of what happened to me each day. It was my way of mulling over the events of my life, of sorting through things that bothered me or excited me. There were times when I felt there was no one for me to talk to, and so my thoughts went onto the pages of my journal. I now write much less in my journal (mostly from a lack of time), but my thoughts and expressions come out in other areas of writing. Such as my blog.
Much of what I post here is exploration, an idea that has seized me and left me trying, if I can, to grasp it and make it solid. Some of it is good writing. Some of it is not. But it gives me a chance to explore, to try to sort through what is happened to me. As one of my recent postings about why I chose a midwife rather than a doctor. Another friend’s postings about her birth experiences (and the contrast between what she had wanted and what actually happened) got me mulling about what I want and why I was dissatisfied with my doctor and attracted to the midwife.
Such musings I could just record in the pages of my journal, to be locked away in the bookshelf and perhaps dragged out in another ten years when I want to review my life (if, at that point, I have the time and patience to wade through pages of mostly boring records of “today I cleaned the house” or “we made chili together for supper tonight”). Posting it on a blog makes it a conversation, a dialogue between me and those out there who chose to read it and respond.
Those comments – whether agreeing or disagreeing – are part of the exploration of the ideas. They push me deeper into the whys… why do I feel that way and why did I choose to write that? If my readers are not responding as I thought they would, have I expressed myself poorly? Was that really what I meant to say? As an editor as well as a writer, clear communication is important to me, so I must clarify my own ideas to express them to my audience.
Scroll down and leave a comment on either of the posts about Miralee Ferrell for a chance to win a copy of her newly released book, The Other Daughter! You can also visit other blogs in the tour and leave comments there to increase your chances of winning.
Growing up, I filled pages of journals with the jottings of what happened to me each day. It was my way of mulling over the events of my life, of sorting through things that bothered me or excited me. There were times when I felt there was no one for me to talk to, and so my thoughts went onto the pages of my journal. I now write much less in my journal (mostly from a lack of time), but my thoughts and expressions come out in other areas of writing. Such as my blog.
Much of what I post here is exploration, an idea that has seized me and left me trying, if I can, to grasp it and make it solid. Some of it is good writing. Some of it is not. But it gives me a chance to explore, to try to sort through what is happened to me. As one of my recent postings about why I chose a midwife rather than a doctor. Another friend’s postings about her birth experiences (and the contrast between what she had wanted and what actually happened) got me mulling about what I want and why I was dissatisfied with my doctor and attracted to the midwife.
Such musings I could just record in the pages of my journal, to be locked away in the bookshelf and perhaps dragged out in another ten years when I want to review my life (if, at that point, I have the time and patience to wade through pages of mostly boring records of “today I cleaned the house” or “we made chili together for supper tonight”). Posting it on a blog makes it a conversation, a dialogue between me and those out there who chose to read it and respond.
Those comments – whether agreeing or disagreeing – are part of the exploration of the ideas. They push me deeper into the whys… why do I feel that way and why did I choose to write that? If my readers are not responding as I thought they would, have I expressed myself poorly? Was that really what I meant to say? As an editor as well as a writer, clear communication is important to me, so I must clarify my own ideas to express them to my audience.
Scroll down and leave a comment on either of the posts about Miralee Ferrell for a chance to win a copy of her newly released book, The Other Daughter! You can also visit other blogs in the tour and leave comments there to increase your chances of winning.
Friday, October 26, 2007
What Jason Read
I've heard for years of the value of critique partners, and tried at various stages to find someone to share my writing journey with, but it never worked out. Some months back, I left a message on a writer's bulletin board to see if anyone else was also looking for a crit partner. After not hearing back for some weeks, I thought that attempt had also failed. Then someone contacted me. A flurry of emails flew back and forth as we got to know each other and discussed our writing. We also both write for the Faithwriters' competition, and while I had originally looked at the topic in doubts that I had any ideas related to it, my excitement over my new crit partner helped spark some inspiration that led to "What Jason Read."
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Miralee and The Other Daughter
Miralee Ferrell’s brand new book The Other Daughter is currently hitting the bookstores. She has received a Four Star review from Romantic Times Review Magazine (four and a half is the best an author can get, making four stars quite good). She’s also gotten some very good reviews, including a glowing one from Novel Journey, one of the top Christian review blogs. The Other Daughter is also climbing its way up the bestsellers list on CBD. Athe two week mark prior to release, it had hit #15 in women’s contemporary fiction and #103 in overall fiction (out of 9,584 books). Miralee would love to see it reach the top 75 in overall fiction, but is leaving that in the Lord’s hands.Miralee says several authors keep drawing her back to their stories. She discovered Gene Stratton Porter and Harold Bell Wright in high school and loves anything these early twentieth century authors wrote. She even owns first editions of several of their works. She says that the writing in the early 1900s had so much more depth than much of what’s being written now (this blogger agrees!). The descriptions were exquisite, the stories were unusual and you knew the characters personally, and cared about them deeply. H. B. Wright especially had thought-provoking messages woven through his fiction that would stay with a reader for days, if not weeks to come.
There have been several people who have influenced and helped Miralee over the past two years. Her husband has been unwavering in his support, even when he felt she was being unfairly treated. He didn’t like the initial rejections she was getting and couldn’t understand why publishers weren’t happy with it, after all the work she did. Miralee feels so blessed that he believed in her and kept encouraging her.
Her sister Jenny and author friend Elizabeth were a tremendous help with initial editing and suggestions. They both taught her about point of view and believability. Writing dialogue came very naturally to Miarelee, but she struggled at times with other aspects of plot structure, pacing and tension.
Her pastor and small home group prayed and encouraged her, and her mom loved everything she wrote. Family and close friends are rarely a good source for reliable feedback, so Miralee was thrilled when she found ACFW a few months before her book came under contract and joined a critique group a couple of months later. They brought another layer of accountability and learning to her writing.
At this time, Miralee is awaiting the verdict from a major motion picture studio concerning the acquisition of The Other Daughter as a potential family movie. The studio rep read the book, stated she really liked it and felt it had a strong plot and very memorable characters. She requested a lengthy summary of the book showing how the faith elements would be softened to make it acceptable for a family movie, as their studio is not faith based. Miralee did so and the rep will be reviewing the summary over the next few weeks. This isn’t something she or her agent sought—the studio rep approached them when she saw a short summary of the book in a publishers newsletter—so Miralee is not expecting anything at this point. It’s in the Lord’s hands and she’s trusting Him that if He wants to use the book to touch lives in the secular world by making it into a family movie, that’s great. If not, that’s okay too… her book is being published, which is more than she dreamed would happen two years ago.
The idea for The Other Daughter came from a friend, who suggested that the book be based on something true from Miralee’s life. She began to brainstorm a few “what ifs” from her marriage. What if the 18-year-old girl who'd written her husband a letter claiming to be his daughter had been a young teen without a mother instead, and they had to raise her? What if her conception had happened while they were dating, rather than prior to their meeting, as was the case? What if she were NOT a Christian and he was, and she struggled with Christianity and his faith? Hmmm… well, that's exactly what it took to ignite the story within and it grew from there and became The Other Daughter.
Throughout the process of writing, pitching - and now, promoting - a novel, Miralee has learned that other Christian writers are some of the most unselfish, caring, giving people on the face of the earth. Instead of competing and trying to cut one another off at the knees, they practically break their necks to help.
She’s also learned that if you're not giving God the glory and asking Him to keep your priorities straight, writing will become an albatross around your neck instead of the joyful journey He means it to be. HE is the one who has brought her success in her book. HE is an amazing God and she writes for Him. She says if she wrote for herself or for the readers, she’d probably have given up by now.
The sequel is nearly finished and ready to present to Miralee’s publisher. It follows a secondary character in The Other Daughter named Gina (pronounced Jeena). Miralee says she's a bit of a pill - not a Christian, a bit worldly and very career minded, but has had some very hard knocks growing up and a couple of devastating ones as an adult. Whether or not the sequel gets published depends on the publisher and the readers of The Other Daughter.
Leave a comment here to be entered to win a copy of The Other Daughter. You can also visit the other blogs on the tour and leave comments there to increase your chances of winning!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Doctor and the Midwife
Shortly after suspecting that I was pregnant and confirming that suspicion with a drugstore pregnancy test, I called my doctor’s office. My husband and I assumed that the next step in this journey we were now on was to see the doctor. The nurse on the other end of the phone, however, seemed to wonder why on earth I was calling. It didn’t help that I’ve seen three different doctors at that clinic over the past several years when I get a bad cold or strep throat, and that the last time I was sick they refused to take walk-ins and I had to go to a different clinic. But finally she booked the appointment for me.
At my appointment, they repeated the pregnancy test, and when I saw the doctor, he told me that I was indeed pregnant. (I already knew that.) Then he asked me, “Do you want to keep it?” I didn’t know what he meant. “Keep what?” I asked. “The pregnancy,” he responded. “Of course,” I said, but I was shocked by his question. My husband and I told ourselves he probably just had to ask it as a routine question, but it still unnerved me. I thought doctors were to be advocates of health and life, and if I didn’t “want to keep it,” then I wouldn’t have been there.
The doctor calculated my due date, laughed when I mentioned what the date of conception was, gave me a little pamphlet, and sent me off to the receptionist to book my next appointment. I was a little disappointed. But I dutifully showed up for the next appointment, and the next. For most of the appointments, I spent more time sitting in the waiting room than seeing the doctor. When I did see him, he took my blood pressure and heart rate and asked me if everything was fine and then went off to his next appointment. One appointment was a bit more detailed (and painful), but still only took about fifteen minutes. I felt hurried over, and though I didn’t have many questions, I didn’t feel I could ask them.
Then a friend told me about the local midwife program, and my husband and I headed out for an information session. The speaker explained midwifery, the program’s development (pioneered by a doctor I knew), and their theory of natural birth. She showed us the birthing rooms at the hospital. I felt much more comfortable with this program, and the next week I transferred my care from the doctor to the midwife.
Our first appointment was half an hour, very informative and relaxing. The midwife explained to me the results of the tests that the doctor had sent me for (and never explained). She was happy to hear what date the baby was conceived, as that gives us the best indication of a due date. She answered our questions about ultrasounds and genetic testing, clearly explaining both (see earlier post, “Genetic Testing”) and understanding our concerns. She included my husband in the discussions and let him run the machine to hear the baby’s heartbeat. Overall, I felt like she gave us much better care than the doctor had (or was able to). She wasn’t rushing off to the next appointment, but was able to focus on us and to get to know us and what we wanted for our unborn baby.
Today was my next session with the midwife, run as a group session with all the women who are due in February. We each filled in our own charts and had a few minutes with the midwife. Then she talked to us about how we could prepare for giving birth. The other women shared their experiences, as several of them have children already. I thought how natural that seemed – women supporting women and sharing this most womanly of duties. For those of us who are pregnant for the first time, and trying not to freak out over the thought of labour, it was helpful to hear from the women who had “been there, done that” and had a good experience.
With the doctor, I felt like I was part of a system and had no choice or voice, just had to go along and hope everything turned out okay. With the midwife, I feel like I am a woman and how I want to give birth is up to me. With the doctor, I wondered how much my husband could be involved; with the midwife, I know that he can be there supporting me. With the doctor, I felt like I didn’t know anything; with the midwife, I feel like I should know as much as I can. And I know that every woman is different, and that other doctors may be different; but for me, for this baby, this is where I am.
At my appointment, they repeated the pregnancy test, and when I saw the doctor, he told me that I was indeed pregnant. (I already knew that.) Then he asked me, “Do you want to keep it?” I didn’t know what he meant. “Keep what?” I asked. “The pregnancy,” he responded. “Of course,” I said, but I was shocked by his question. My husband and I told ourselves he probably just had to ask it as a routine question, but it still unnerved me. I thought doctors were to be advocates of health and life, and if I didn’t “want to keep it,” then I wouldn’t have been there.
The doctor calculated my due date, laughed when I mentioned what the date of conception was, gave me a little pamphlet, and sent me off to the receptionist to book my next appointment. I was a little disappointed. But I dutifully showed up for the next appointment, and the next. For most of the appointments, I spent more time sitting in the waiting room than seeing the doctor. When I did see him, he took my blood pressure and heart rate and asked me if everything was fine and then went off to his next appointment. One appointment was a bit more detailed (and painful), but still only took about fifteen minutes. I felt hurried over, and though I didn’t have many questions, I didn’t feel I could ask them.
Then a friend told me about the local midwife program, and my husband and I headed out for an information session. The speaker explained midwifery, the program’s development (pioneered by a doctor I knew), and their theory of natural birth. She showed us the birthing rooms at the hospital. I felt much more comfortable with this program, and the next week I transferred my care from the doctor to the midwife.
Our first appointment was half an hour, very informative and relaxing. The midwife explained to me the results of the tests that the doctor had sent me for (and never explained). She was happy to hear what date the baby was conceived, as that gives us the best indication of a due date. She answered our questions about ultrasounds and genetic testing, clearly explaining both (see earlier post, “Genetic Testing”) and understanding our concerns. She included my husband in the discussions and let him run the machine to hear the baby’s heartbeat. Overall, I felt like she gave us much better care than the doctor had (or was able to). She wasn’t rushing off to the next appointment, but was able to focus on us and to get to know us and what we wanted for our unborn baby.
Today was my next session with the midwife, run as a group session with all the women who are due in February. We each filled in our own charts and had a few minutes with the midwife. Then she talked to us about how we could prepare for giving birth. The other women shared their experiences, as several of them have children already. I thought how natural that seemed – women supporting women and sharing this most womanly of duties. For those of us who are pregnant for the first time, and trying not to freak out over the thought of labour, it was helpful to hear from the women who had “been there, done that” and had a good experience.
With the doctor, I felt like I was part of a system and had no choice or voice, just had to go along and hope everything turned out okay. With the midwife, I feel like I am a woman and how I want to give birth is up to me. With the doctor, I wondered how much my husband could be involved; with the midwife, I know that he can be there supporting me. With the doctor, I felt like I didn’t know anything; with the midwife, I feel like I should know as much as I can. And I know that every woman is different, and that other doctors may be different; but for me, for this baby, this is where I am.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Miralee Ferrell Blog Tour
The girl standing at the door took a deep breath, pulling her suitcase a little closer to her trembling legs. "My mama's dead. He's my daddy." Susanne Carson knew that she could trust the love of her life—her husband, David—until she discovered a strange, unkempt young girl on their doorstep, claiming to be David's daughter.
Not that their marriage had ever been perfect—David's decision to embrace the Christian faith had strained their relationship. Susanne may not have agreed with his beliefs, but at least she trusted him. Had David been hiding this not-so-little secret from his past? He wanted Susanne to believe in his God, but believing hadn't done much to keep David out of another woman's arms.
As David confronts the truth of his past, Susanne must face her own moment of truth as her marriage is taken to the breaking point and the life of one young girl is left in her hands.
Welcome to the blog tour for Miralee Ferrell’s new book, The Other Daughter. You can read the entire opening scene at Miralee's web site. The Other Daughter releases in October and can be ordered from Amazon or Christian Book or found in a bookstore near you. I'll be posting another interview with Miralee next week. You can also check out the other blogs in the blog tour:
October 20 - Sky-High View and See Ya On The Net
21 The Road I'm Traveling
22 Deena's Books and Teresa Morgan's Blog
23 Stories of Faith, Hope and Love and Fresh Brewed Writer
24 New Christian Fiction Reviews and A Fiction-Filled Life
25 Write Thoughts
26 Queen Of Perseverance
27 The Melody Within
28 Jen's Life Journey
29 Inspirational Editor
30 Carla’s Writing Café
31 Posting with Purpose
November 1 - Bonnie's Blog
2 Bold and Free
3 The Ink's Not Dry
4 ShoutLife Blog
5 A Writer’s Journey
6 Betsy Ann's Blog
7 A Prisoner of Hope
8 CBAllan WordPress
9 Suzy Scribbles - Homeschool Blogger
10 Surviving the Chaos
11 Christian Fiction Author & Speaker
12 God Uses Broken Vessels
13 Patricia PacJac Carroll
14 Spreading Truth Through Fiction
15 Extreme Keyboarding
16 Musings
Miralee is also running a draw for her book... leave a comment on this post (or on any other of the blogs participating in the tour and posting about her book) and you'll be entered to win a copy of The Other Daughter! The more comments you leave, the more times you'll be entered. Good luck!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
The Beginning of the Bulge
A couple weeks back, when my husband and I went to see our midwife, she exclaimed, “What a cute little bump you have!” It was just barely big enough to be visible, and Baby was just starting to make small kicks. I had gained all of three pounds for being four months pregnant.
Shortly after that, we went out on a date together. Deciding what to wear took a little bit longer than usual, as half of the items in my closet don’t fit anymore. My husband suggested that I wear a nice black skirt. Most of my black skirts have fitted waistbands that no longer fit, but finally I found one that sat on my hips. Then he suggested I wear one of my button-up blouses. They don’t even button up anymore. So we found a stretchy shirt in the bottom of my drawer, and headed out for dinner and a play.
Last Tuesday I realized that the situation was getting a bit desperate, as my only pair of pants that fit were a bit shoddy. So we made a trip to the Bay to see what was available. My husband was worried this could be an expensive trip, until we saw the sales signs. We walked out with four pairs of pants for very cheap, quite pleased with our coup. Now I am starting to get comments that I’m finally looking pregnant. People’s pleasure over my growing bulge is as amusing as their former disappointment over my lack of a bulge.
The baby is also starting to kick. My husband felt a kick for the first time a few nights ago. I’ll feel a few kicks throughout the day, but so far Baby is most active at about the time that I become inactive – just after I go to bed. The other night he or she started kicking back when my husband poked or pressed my stomach. It’s exciting to feel, to start imagining what this little one will be like when we finally get to meet him or her in four and a half months.
Shortly after that, we went out on a date together. Deciding what to wear took a little bit longer than usual, as half of the items in my closet don’t fit anymore. My husband suggested that I wear a nice black skirt. Most of my black skirts have fitted waistbands that no longer fit, but finally I found one that sat on my hips. Then he suggested I wear one of my button-up blouses. They don’t even button up anymore. So we found a stretchy shirt in the bottom of my drawer, and headed out for dinner and a play.
Last Tuesday I realized that the situation was getting a bit desperate, as my only pair of pants that fit were a bit shoddy. So we made a trip to the Bay to see what was available. My husband was worried this could be an expensive trip, until we saw the sales signs. We walked out with four pairs of pants for very cheap, quite pleased with our coup. Now I am starting to get comments that I’m finally looking pregnant. People’s pleasure over my growing bulge is as amusing as their former disappointment over my lack of a bulge.
The baby is also starting to kick. My husband felt a kick for the first time a few nights ago. I’ll feel a few kicks throughout the day, but so far Baby is most active at about the time that I become inactive – just after I go to bed. The other night he or she started kicking back when my husband poked or pressed my stomach. It’s exciting to feel, to start imagining what this little one will be like when we finally get to meet him or her in four and a half months.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
One Small Deed
The ringing of the phone startled me from my concentration on the document before me, and I looked up, waiting for the call display to tell me who was phoning. I rarely get calls at work, and I was even more surprised to see my new co-worker’s name appear in the block letters. She had just moved into the cubicle next to mine and we had barely even spoken to each other yet. I picked up the phone with my formal greeting voice.
She explained who she was and then asked if I’d mind peeking into her cubicle to see if she had left her keys on her desk. Setting the phone down, I stepped across the hallway and scanned her cubicle. Sure enough, there was her ID card and cupboard key. Returning, I reported that into the phone. She fretted over her forgetfulness and then asked if I’d mind keeping the keys for her until the next day, as she wouldn’t be returning to the office that day. Knowing that she usually arrived earlier than I did, I offered to hide the keys in her office for her instead, and we agreed upon a hiding place. I hung up, hid the keys, and returned to work, without thinking much more about the incident.
It was after coffee break on the next afternoon when she popped into my cubicle with a brightly wrapped package. She thanked me again for helping her with her keys the day before, though I protested that it was nothing. She had wanted to do something for me anyways, to show how she appreciated it, and I thanked her. A small card expressed her appreciation for the peace of mind that I’d given her in knowing that her keys and office were safe and secure. Inside were a couple small trinkets that now sit on my computer.
A plaque in my mother-in-law’s washroom talks about the power we have to brighten someone’s day through a smile or small deed. Often we do not see how our actions affect others, so I was blessed to have my co-worker show me what my deed had meant to her. It was something that brightened the day for both of us.
She explained who she was and then asked if I’d mind peeking into her cubicle to see if she had left her keys on her desk. Setting the phone down, I stepped across the hallway and scanned her cubicle. Sure enough, there was her ID card and cupboard key. Returning, I reported that into the phone. She fretted over her forgetfulness and then asked if I’d mind keeping the keys for her until the next day, as she wouldn’t be returning to the office that day. Knowing that she usually arrived earlier than I did, I offered to hide the keys in her office for her instead, and we agreed upon a hiding place. I hung up, hid the keys, and returned to work, without thinking much more about the incident.
It was after coffee break on the next afternoon when she popped into my cubicle with a brightly wrapped package. She thanked me again for helping her with her keys the day before, though I protested that it was nothing. She had wanted to do something for me anyways, to show how she appreciated it, and I thanked her. A small card expressed her appreciation for the peace of mind that I’d given her in knowing that her keys and office were safe and secure. Inside were a couple small trinkets that now sit on my computer.
A plaque in my mother-in-law’s washroom talks about the power we have to brighten someone’s day through a smile or small deed. Often we do not see how our actions affect others, so I was blessed to have my co-worker show me what my deed had meant to her. It was something that brightened the day for both of us.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
To Be a Writer
For the past ten years (give or take a few), I’ve said that I want to be a writer. That’s been my hobby, my career goal, my passion. Over the years, it has taken many different courses. When I first started saying that, it was easy to be a writer. I was a homeschool student and had lots of time to sit at my computer writing. Words filled pages and files grew on the computer. Then I went to university, and the words filling pages became more academic as I handed in paper after paper. My creative work got pushed to the side. In between university were summer jobs that left me so busy – or tired – that writing once again took a back seat.
I still want to be a writer, but I struggle with making that happen. How can I say I am a writer when I feel like I barely do any writing? There are times and seasons, I know, but I grow impatient. I said I’d work on my novels after I finished university. That was a year and a half ago, and other than doing some work on the first three pages of my first novel to prepare it for my grad school application, I haven’t looked at it. I tried putting together some of the shorter adult fiction that I’ve written, and found myself questioning my abilities.
I envy my writer friends who seem to have made it to places that I want to be. I wish my writing were like so-and-so’s. I wish I could claim as many publication credits as that person. I wish I had a request from a publisher for a book proposal like another friend. And then I sigh and tell myself that’s unChristian, and I should be happy for them and content with where God has me for now.
Someone pointed out recently that sometimes God’s callings take time to fulfill. Abraham waited years after God called him to be the father of many nations. Many of my friends who are now experiencing huge successes in their writing have been writing for years longer than I have. They have worked hard to get where they are and deserve their successes. I can only hope that when I’ve been writing as long as they have, my writing will be as good as theirs and I will have as much to show for my work as they do.
At the ICWF Fall Conference last weekend, Angela Hunt talked about that a bit. She said our calling is first to love God and then others, and that from that calling He gives us various tasks. For some of us, that task is to write. But He also gives us other tasks, and sometimes those take priority over our writing. That means that wherever I am is where God wants me to be, as long as I am filling my calling. Love God. Love my husband. Love my family. Love my friends. Love the others God puts around me. Then write. So even if all I write is an encouraging email to a friend or a blog post that touches someone, I have fulfilled my calling and done my task, and I am still a writer.
I still want to be a writer, but I struggle with making that happen. How can I say I am a writer when I feel like I barely do any writing? There are times and seasons, I know, but I grow impatient. I said I’d work on my novels after I finished university. That was a year and a half ago, and other than doing some work on the first three pages of my first novel to prepare it for my grad school application, I haven’t looked at it. I tried putting together some of the shorter adult fiction that I’ve written, and found myself questioning my abilities.
I envy my writer friends who seem to have made it to places that I want to be. I wish my writing were like so-and-so’s. I wish I could claim as many publication credits as that person. I wish I had a request from a publisher for a book proposal like another friend. And then I sigh and tell myself that’s unChristian, and I should be happy for them and content with where God has me for now.
Someone pointed out recently that sometimes God’s callings take time to fulfill. Abraham waited years after God called him to be the father of many nations. Many of my friends who are now experiencing huge successes in their writing have been writing for years longer than I have. They have worked hard to get where they are and deserve their successes. I can only hope that when I’ve been writing as long as they have, my writing will be as good as theirs and I will have as much to show for my work as they do.
At the ICWF Fall Conference last weekend, Angela Hunt talked about that a bit. She said our calling is first to love God and then others, and that from that calling He gives us various tasks. For some of us, that task is to write. But He also gives us other tasks, and sometimes those take priority over our writing. That means that wherever I am is where God wants me to be, as long as I am filling my calling. Love God. Love my husband. Love my family. Love my friends. Love the others God puts around me. Then write. So even if all I write is an encouraging email to a friend or a blog post that touches someone, I have fulfilled my calling and done my task, and I am still a writer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)