Layton Brooks, the fictional main character of Living Between the Ditches, illustrates the plight of most Christians. We bounce from one ditch to another, rarely experiencing the space between the ditches, the part of the road God intends for us to travel. In Layton's case, he began his Christian life in the ditch of knowing God so well he felt he had him in his back pocket. He'd grown up in a Christian home and church. God was familiar and predictable—or so he thought.
On page 92 of the book, I describe Layton faith as faith in a plan rather than in a Person. The plan was "like skull practice before a football game. Work your plan, stay with the basics, don't play into the opposing team's hands, and eventually you'll make a touchdown." Layton thought this advice worked for all of life. He'd worked his plan.
In this scenario, God was to be appeased instead of pleased. If God liked what you did, all would go well. If He didn't, He'd zap you with some catastrophe or the other. Being good almost always assured His favor. When Layton began to experience the inevitable heartbreaks of life—and a few he'd helped create—he turned his back on this supposedly good God. God hadn't come through for him. God hadn't kept his part of the bargain. Neither would Layton.
Layton found himself in the opposite ditch. The ditch of a mysterious God hid God's face from view. Was God good or bad, a giver or a taker, trustworthy or unreliable? Eventually, Layton had to choose between his childhood and childish view of God and a different, unfamiliar picture of Him. Leslee Baird called the process reframing.
Maybe you've been at that crossroads, or perhaps you're there now. In a few minutes, 2009 will end and 2010 will begin. Make it your resolution to get to know the God who longs to know you and be known by you—who wants a relationship unlike any other you've ever experienced. Ask Him to show Himself to you. Ask Him until He answers. Then, tell me what you learned!
I'll look forward to hearing from you in 2010!
Living between the ditches,
Betty
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
The Premise: Living Between the Ditches
The fact that Knowing God by J.I. Packer is still in print after more than 30 years indicates a wide interest in unveiling the mystery of relationship with God. Countless books have dealt with the deeper spiritual life, intimacy with God, and how to achieve that goal. I believe my contribution to this effort is to present knowing God as a factor of integrating God’s desire to be known without our having to explain away His mystery. We will never know all of God, nor would that be in our best interest. At the same time, His mystery should not prevent our seeking to know God intimately.
In the "Introduction" to my book I present the narrow road as a metaphor for the Christian life. The psalmist called it a path (119:105). Jesus called it the Way (Jn. 14:6). We don’t literally walk down a road as we go through each day. However, life is often described as a journey. In Matthew 7:13-14 Jesus said, “ ‘Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.’ ”
When I picture this narrow road, I see ditches on either side, somewhat like physical ditches alongside a country lane. The image of ditches suggests that we may fall, tumble, slide, or walk off the road of life into a ditch on one side of the road or the other. If we do, we cease to make progress on the road to God’s house. So we must learn to navigate the road in such a way that we live between the ditches.
Christians always encounter Scriptural truths in spiritual ditches. So why not stay there? The problem is that we can see only a part of the truth, and living out of it alone provides insufficient direction for the journey. That’s because the truth in the ditch is half of a paradox. The word paradox is defined as two truths that exist side-by-side yet seem to be contradictory.
The way to relate to God is by living between the ditches of a God who wants to be known as well as a God of mystery. Although neither ditch serves us well alone, both are essential. We must hold in balance this God who wants to be known yet worshipped with fear and awe. In place of holy inertia, we can relate to God with confidence.
To help the reader conceptualize this truth, I've related the fictional story of Layton and Amy Brooks (see earlier posts). Interspersed throughout the content, the story describes Layton’s personal struggles with his ex-wife Amy, both of whom are on the path to a new and meaningful relationship with God. Layton, Amy, and the other characters illustrate the premise of learning to live between the ditches.
In the "Introduction" to my book I present the narrow road as a metaphor for the Christian life. The psalmist called it a path (119:105). Jesus called it the Way (Jn. 14:6). We don’t literally walk down a road as we go through each day. However, life is often described as a journey. In Matthew 7:13-14 Jesus said, “ ‘Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.’ ”
When I picture this narrow road, I see ditches on either side, somewhat like physical ditches alongside a country lane. The image of ditches suggests that we may fall, tumble, slide, or walk off the road of life into a ditch on one side of the road or the other. If we do, we cease to make progress on the road to God’s house. So we must learn to navigate the road in such a way that we live between the ditches.
Christians always encounter Scriptural truths in spiritual ditches. So why not stay there? The problem is that we can see only a part of the truth, and living out of it alone provides insufficient direction for the journey. That’s because the truth in the ditch is half of a paradox. The word paradox is defined as two truths that exist side-by-side yet seem to be contradictory.
The way to relate to God is by living between the ditches of a God who wants to be known as well as a God of mystery. Although neither ditch serves us well alone, both are essential. We must hold in balance this God who wants to be known yet worshipped with fear and awe. In place of holy inertia, we can relate to God with confidence.
To help the reader conceptualize this truth, I've related the fictional story of Layton and Amy Brooks (see earlier posts). Interspersed throughout the content, the story describes Layton’s personal struggles with his ex-wife Amy, both of whom are on the path to a new and meaningful relationship with God. Layton, Amy, and the other characters illustrate the premise of learning to live between the ditches.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Job's Story: Where's God's Protection?
My granddaughter, Sara—Sara without an H she would tell you—has a real heart for the Lord, for which her grandparents are very glad. This past summer, she and her dad were sitting in the floor of her room playing.
“Dad,” she asked, out of the clear blue sky, “do you feel God’s protection?”
A bit startled, my son replied, “Well, yes, Sara, I do.”
“I do too,” she said, and happily went back to playing.
Now that story makes a warm grandmother memory! I’m thankful Sara felt God’s protection. But in September of this year, Sara came down with Swine flu. She’s still recovering and under a doctor’s care 7 weeks later.
Where was God’s protection when that little undetectable virus entered Sara’s body? Will Sara ever question God’s protection? Do you? I certainly have. Where was God's protection when as a young bride of four months I was in a car accident that left me bedridden for six weeks? Or when my husband caught bacterial meningitis? The list goes on.
A Bible character named Job had every reason to feel safe and secure in God’s protection. He had 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 donkeys and oxen, 7 sons, 3 daughters, and one nagging wife. Yet, in one day’s time he lost everything but his nagging wife. You may be familiar with his well-known response to his losses. In Job 1:21 he said:
Now wait a minute. Job said God is both a giver and a taker. If we think about it from our prayer lives, we know God says yes and no. But can we really call God a taker?
Job’s nagging wife thought so. Soon after the deaths of Job’s children and the loss of his fortune, Job was afflicted with boils. Mrs. Job, in her despair, asked, “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die.” Job reflected on her conclusion to “curse God and die” with a penetrating question of his own, one with which we should all wrestle. Job 2:10 asks, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
Job said, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. May the name of the Lord be praised.”
Do you find it hard to rest comfortably in the arms of God? Just when you think you’ve got him figured out, He turns in another direction? Is God a giver or a taker? Usually, we answer that question based on our life circumstances—at the moment. But we need a heavenly perspective. Only God knows what he’s doing through the events of our lives. Only He knows how to transform us into Christ-likeness and move us forward on the road to His house. His pace may seem too slow or so fast it makes our heads spin. But the choice isn’t ours to make.
“Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
Job learned to accept God’s divine wisdom—but only after he’d verbally wrestled with God over his circumstances. In Job 38: 4 God asked Job a profound question: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? Tell me if you understand.”
For the next 125 verses, God makes mincemeat of Job’s reasoning. In Job 40:1 God asks, “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him?”
Job then responds, “I spoke once, but I have no answer.” Then in 42:2, Job says, “I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted…Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”
“Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” To do so is to tell God how our lives should transpire in order to please us. Sorry, but it's all about Him.
“Dad,” she asked, out of the clear blue sky, “do you feel God’s protection?”
A bit startled, my son replied, “Well, yes, Sara, I do.”
“I do too,” she said, and happily went back to playing.
Now that story makes a warm grandmother memory! I’m thankful Sara felt God’s protection. But in September of this year, Sara came down with Swine flu. She’s still recovering and under a doctor’s care 7 weeks later.
Where was God’s protection when that little undetectable virus entered Sara’s body? Will Sara ever question God’s protection? Do you? I certainly have. Where was God's protection when as a young bride of four months I was in a car accident that left me bedridden for six weeks? Or when my husband caught bacterial meningitis? The list goes on.
A Bible character named Job had every reason to feel safe and secure in God’s protection. He had 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 donkeys and oxen, 7 sons, 3 daughters, and one nagging wife. Yet, in one day’s time he lost everything but his nagging wife. You may be familiar with his well-known response to his losses. In Job 1:21 he said:
“The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.
May the name of the Lord be praised.”
May the name of the Lord be praised.”
Now wait a minute. Job said God is both a giver and a taker. If we think about it from our prayer lives, we know God says yes and no. But can we really call God a taker?
Job’s nagging wife thought so. Soon after the deaths of Job’s children and the loss of his fortune, Job was afflicted with boils. Mrs. Job, in her despair, asked, “Are you still holding on to your integrity? Curse God and die.” Job reflected on her conclusion to “curse God and die” with a penetrating question of his own, one with which we should all wrestle. Job 2:10 asks, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
Job said, “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. May the name of the Lord be praised.”
Do you find it hard to rest comfortably in the arms of God? Just when you think you’ve got him figured out, He turns in another direction? Is God a giver or a taker? Usually, we answer that question based on our life circumstances—at the moment. But we need a heavenly perspective. Only God knows what he’s doing through the events of our lives. Only He knows how to transform us into Christ-likeness and move us forward on the road to His house. His pace may seem too slow or so fast it makes our heads spin. But the choice isn’t ours to make.
“Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?”
Job learned to accept God’s divine wisdom—but only after he’d verbally wrestled with God over his circumstances. In Job 38: 4 God asked Job a profound question: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundations? Tell me if you understand.”
For the next 125 verses, God makes mincemeat of Job’s reasoning. In Job 40:1 God asks, “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him?”
Job then responds, “I spoke once, but I have no answer.” Then in 42:2, Job says, “I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted…Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.”
“Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” To do so is to tell God how our lives should transpire in order to please us. Sorry, but it's all about Him.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
The God of the Bible: The Greatest Mystery Ever
The God of the Bible is disarmingly unpredictable. The person who wants a nice, rational God with consistent answers to their prayers will be disappointed to find that He's a God of paradox instead. I learned that the hard way—through life experiences.
By the time I was grown, I thought I knew God intimately. I also thought I knew the rules of the game: obey the Ten Commandments, pray, read the Bible, go to church. In return, I would enjoy God's protection and provision. Good would come from evil, right would prevail, and my parade would never get rained out.
What a jolt to discover that I was subject to the same discouragements, travesties of justice, and tragedies that befall all of us at one time or another. Where was God's protective shield? Did it matter that I was a Christian? But I wasn't willing to give up on God so readily. I had fallen in love with my Maker at an early age, and despite the twists and turns of life, I knew this mystery had an answer.
In my book, Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, I reveal my conclusions. I wish I could tie up my concept of God with a pretty ribbon and present Him to you in a beautifully gift-wrapped box. But when you think about it, God didn't exactly present His one and only Son that way, either. Jesus was born in a cattle stall—or cave—to parents whose character had been questioned by their townspeople and without even enough clout to get a room in a nice inn. Although we'd like to think of Jesus as handsome (the Bible says he wasn't "comely"), charismatic ("Isn't this the carpenter's son?"), and popular (He was betrayed by a friend and the crowds cried, "Crucify him!"), Jesus was an itinerant preacher supported by love offerings and without a bed to call his own.
Since Jesus was and is part of the Godhead, has existed forever, and made our world (see John chapter 1), you would expect a more lavish lifestyle (He owns the cattle on a thousand hills) and a bit more acclaim (Lord of Lords, and King of Kings). Jesus claimed that He and the Father were one and the same. So, if Jesus' defied all expectations of what He would be like, certainly His Father is not easily boxed by our human frames. God is masterfully complex.
In researching the God of the Bible I discovered a paradox that remained true from Genesis to Revelation: We can know God. God is mystery. I also discovered the rich meaning of this truth, how it enhanced instead of diminished my faith, and how much more I cherished my relationship with Him. God's mystery is majesty; his presence is overpowering. We can both know Him intimately and not know Him well at all. Sound absurd?
In the next installment, I'll share the main story from the Bible that helped me understand my dilemma with the God of the Bible.
By the time I was grown, I thought I knew God intimately. I also thought I knew the rules of the game: obey the Ten Commandments, pray, read the Bible, go to church. In return, I would enjoy God's protection and provision. Good would come from evil, right would prevail, and my parade would never get rained out.
What a jolt to discover that I was subject to the same discouragements, travesties of justice, and tragedies that befall all of us at one time or another. Where was God's protective shield? Did it matter that I was a Christian? But I wasn't willing to give up on God so readily. I had fallen in love with my Maker at an early age, and despite the twists and turns of life, I knew this mystery had an answer.
In my book, Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, I reveal my conclusions. I wish I could tie up my concept of God with a pretty ribbon and present Him to you in a beautifully gift-wrapped box. But when you think about it, God didn't exactly present His one and only Son that way, either. Jesus was born in a cattle stall—or cave—to parents whose character had been questioned by their townspeople and without even enough clout to get a room in a nice inn. Although we'd like to think of Jesus as handsome (the Bible says he wasn't "comely"), charismatic ("Isn't this the carpenter's son?"), and popular (He was betrayed by a friend and the crowds cried, "Crucify him!"), Jesus was an itinerant preacher supported by love offerings and without a bed to call his own.
Since Jesus was and is part of the Godhead, has existed forever, and made our world (see John chapter 1), you would expect a more lavish lifestyle (He owns the cattle on a thousand hills) and a bit more acclaim (Lord of Lords, and King of Kings). Jesus claimed that He and the Father were one and the same. So, if Jesus' defied all expectations of what He would be like, certainly His Father is not easily boxed by our human frames. God is masterfully complex.
In researching the God of the Bible I discovered a paradox that remained true from Genesis to Revelation: We can know God. God is mystery. I also discovered the rich meaning of this truth, how it enhanced instead of diminished my faith, and how much more I cherished my relationship with Him. God's mystery is majesty; his presence is overpowering. We can both know Him intimately and not know Him well at all. Sound absurd?
In the next installment, I'll share the main story from the Bible that helped me understand my dilemma with the God of the Bible.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Amazing Myra Norwell
Myra, wife of Pastor Frank, doesn't appear in Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, until chapter 7. Since there are only 12 chapters in the book, the reader might think she's a minor character. However, Myra plays a crucial role in the story. But for those of you who haven't read it, I'll leave you to decipher that clue.
Myra bonds with the reader immediately. What's not to like? She's warm, affectionate, a good listener, and compassionate. Myra had been Layton's second mother as he grew up, and now, he guessed, she was his only mother—at least, the only one who knew him (p. 83). But in his preoccupation with Brianne's surgery, Layton hadn't even asked about her when Pastor Frank and he were talking during the surgical procedure. Now he felt guilty.
Myra put Layton at ease. Not into the sport of keeping a record of wrongs, Myra waved his concerns away. She knew what it was like to be absorbed in one's own family problems, and as we find out, she's more than just sympathetic with Brianne's disease. Myra knows at a depth most of us don't care to reach. Her comfort is with the comfort we have received from God, who comforts us in our troubles (1 Cor. 1:4).
Myra, it seems, has become a good friend to Amy. As Myra and Amy leave the hospital for "a girl's night out," Layton's not sure how he feels about this friendship. Betrayed? Jealous? But as he waits for their return, he's got a bigger problem to ponder. Why have Myra's "ups and downs" seem to have brought her closer to God while in his own pain God has grown more distant?
Myra's counsel over the coming weeks would prove critical to Layton's coming to grips with his mother's Alzheimers and learning to relate to her in terms of her needs rather than his own. Serving his mother proves satisfying, even when she thinks Layton is his brother Kyle.
My favorite Myra lines are these:
"Saint Paul chose contentment whatever the circumstances. He didn't write that because he had a life of comfort and ease. He wrote the letter from prison, of all places! Paul had learned contentment because he first learned gratitude. Remember, he started his letter with, 'I thank my God ... Did you know,' Myra continued, 'that it's almost impossible to feel anxiety and gratefulness at the same time?" (p. 148)
I love that thought! May I dwell on it tonight as I go to sleep and as I wake to a new workday. Thank you, Myra, for helping me feel God's strength as my refuge (p. 148).
Myra bonds with the reader immediately. What's not to like? She's warm, affectionate, a good listener, and compassionate. Myra had been Layton's second mother as he grew up, and now, he guessed, she was his only mother—at least, the only one who knew him (p. 83). But in his preoccupation with Brianne's surgery, Layton hadn't even asked about her when Pastor Frank and he were talking during the surgical procedure. Now he felt guilty.
Myra put Layton at ease. Not into the sport of keeping a record of wrongs, Myra waved his concerns away. She knew what it was like to be absorbed in one's own family problems, and as we find out, she's more than just sympathetic with Brianne's disease. Myra knows at a depth most of us don't care to reach. Her comfort is with the comfort we have received from God, who comforts us in our troubles (1 Cor. 1:4).
Myra, it seems, has become a good friend to Amy. As Myra and Amy leave the hospital for "a girl's night out," Layton's not sure how he feels about this friendship. Betrayed? Jealous? But as he waits for their return, he's got a bigger problem to ponder. Why have Myra's "ups and downs" seem to have brought her closer to God while in his own pain God has grown more distant?
Myra's counsel over the coming weeks would prove critical to Layton's coming to grips with his mother's Alzheimers and learning to relate to her in terms of her needs rather than his own. Serving his mother proves satisfying, even when she thinks Layton is his brother Kyle.
My favorite Myra lines are these:
"Saint Paul chose contentment whatever the circumstances. He didn't write that because he had a life of comfort and ease. He wrote the letter from prison, of all places! Paul had learned contentment because he first learned gratitude. Remember, he started his letter with, 'I thank my God ... Did you know,' Myra continued, 'that it's almost impossible to feel anxiety and gratefulness at the same time?" (p. 148)
I love that thought! May I dwell on it tonight as I go to sleep and as I wake to a new workday. Thank you, Myra, for helping me feel God's strength as my refuge (p. 148).
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Delightful Dyers
My favorite characters in my book Living Between the Ditches were not the hero or the heroine—Layton and Amy—nor their precious 4-year-old Brianne. Surely it would have been Pastor Frank or his wife Myra (the subject of my next and yet unwritten post).
Surprisingly, it's the Dyers, Amy's parents. I'm surprised because when we first meet Jan and Phil, they are the starched perfectionists who kiss on the cheek and have impeccable table manners. To some degree they helped create Amy's willingness to take the blame for the breakup of her marriage and not to fight for it. Amy was taught compliance and conformity.
Then, during Amy's college years her parents become Christians—the radical type who talk about their faith! Amy is turned off by their zeal yet aware that something or Someone has changed them for the better. Jan's favorite expression is uttered several times throughout the book (and even makes it into the Epilogue--oops! don't peek if you haven't gotten there yet): "God is up to something!"
When retirement comes, the Dyers head for a volunteer mission assignment in Ecuador, which is where we find them in chapter one. Brianne's unscheduled surgery has left them scrambling for plane tickets to Nashville while awaiting a replacement couple. Their delayed arrival gives Layton and Amy time together, time to talk and try to clear the air.
The Dyers are Meme and Mepaw to little Brianne, who adores them. She can't wait to show them her scar, as though it were a prized possession. When they finally get to her house, life is in turmoil and Brianne is in tears.
Layton is pretty sure he knows how Jan and Phil feel about him after the divorce. And it's not good. Instead, they give him a warm reception. The reader is clued in as to why the Dyers react as they do. And then come my favorite lines in the whole book. You can find them at the top of page 147--second paragraph.
The Dyers are the best of what Christianity has to offer—the God of the second chances, forgiver of our sins, and champion of our futures.
Surprisingly, it's the Dyers, Amy's parents. I'm surprised because when we first meet Jan and Phil, they are the starched perfectionists who kiss on the cheek and have impeccable table manners. To some degree they helped create Amy's willingness to take the blame for the breakup of her marriage and not to fight for it. Amy was taught compliance and conformity.
Then, during Amy's college years her parents become Christians—the radical type who talk about their faith! Amy is turned off by their zeal yet aware that something or Someone has changed them for the better. Jan's favorite expression is uttered several times throughout the book (and even makes it into the Epilogue--oops! don't peek if you haven't gotten there yet): "God is up to something!"
When retirement comes, the Dyers head for a volunteer mission assignment in Ecuador, which is where we find them in chapter one. Brianne's unscheduled surgery has left them scrambling for plane tickets to Nashville while awaiting a replacement couple. Their delayed arrival gives Layton and Amy time together, time to talk and try to clear the air.
The Dyers are Meme and Mepaw to little Brianne, who adores them. She can't wait to show them her scar, as though it were a prized possession. When they finally get to her house, life is in turmoil and Brianne is in tears.
Layton is pretty sure he knows how Jan and Phil feel about him after the divorce. And it's not good. Instead, they give him a warm reception. The reader is clued in as to why the Dyers react as they do. And then come my favorite lines in the whole book. You can find them at the top of page 147--second paragraph.
The Dyers are the best of what Christianity has to offer—the God of the second chances, forgiver of our sins, and champion of our futures.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Pastor Frank: A Model Minister
Layton's pastor, Rev. Frank Norwell, had baptized him, performed his wedding, and counseled him through his divorce. He had been there for Layton through all his ups and downs, especially when Layton's dad died. So why isn't Layton thrilled to see Pastor Frank in the waiting room during Brianne's surgery?
Pastor Frank's appearance is a stark reminder to Layton that his relationship with God isn't exactly cozy at the moment. Sensing Layton's spiritual struggle, the minister gently probes with the skill of a surgeon for those tender places of the heart, looking for a point of entry. Pastor Frank is a rare blend of caring and confronting. Being a minister of God's comfort is his calling, but he's equally willing to make a person uncomfortable. "How are things between you and God, Layton?" he asks.
It's the last question Layton wants to hear—or answer—yet he can't get it out of his mind. Eventually, Layton will have to deal with it. But first, he must go through some intense pruning of his soul to make it ready for new fruit. Pastor Frank waits and prays. He shares when Layton wants to talk, but he's also happy to listen.
We discover the human side of Pastor Frank quickly. He loves sports—especially Vanderbilt football—and his dear wife Myra. He also knows how to suffer. Pastor Frank doesn't think he's earned any chips with God that he should be able to call in when needed. He deals with adversity like we all must—one step at a time—with a confidence in God that develops over many years of faith in His Person and plan.
Pastor Frank knows what we're up against, and he also knows that the church can't make the difference. There aren't enough hours in a lifetime of church-going to replace a relationship with God honed through daily encounters with Him and His Word.
Pastor Frank knows God without being stuffy or unapproachable. He's comfortable around those who aren't where he may be spiritually. He's not likely to hold a grudge but extremely likely to lend a helping hand. Does this make him a super saint? No.
He worries that he hasn't been the pastor Layton needed. He thinks his divorce counsel was inadequate. He isn't sure that it's not too late for Layton and Amy, but if not, what to say? Like all of us, Pastor Frank can't make things right for others, but sadly, he can't even make them right in his own family.
Do many people have a minister who is this involved in their lives? Who cares this deeply? Who models such love and compassion? Probably not. But wouldn't you want him to be like Pastor Frank?
Pastor Frank's appearance is a stark reminder to Layton that his relationship with God isn't exactly cozy at the moment. Sensing Layton's spiritual struggle, the minister gently probes with the skill of a surgeon for those tender places of the heart, looking for a point of entry. Pastor Frank is a rare blend of caring and confronting. Being a minister of God's comfort is his calling, but he's equally willing to make a person uncomfortable. "How are things between you and God, Layton?" he asks.
It's the last question Layton wants to hear—or answer—yet he can't get it out of his mind. Eventually, Layton will have to deal with it. But first, he must go through some intense pruning of his soul to make it ready for new fruit. Pastor Frank waits and prays. He shares when Layton wants to talk, but he's also happy to listen.
We discover the human side of Pastor Frank quickly. He loves sports—especially Vanderbilt football—and his dear wife Myra. He also knows how to suffer. Pastor Frank doesn't think he's earned any chips with God that he should be able to call in when needed. He deals with adversity like we all must—one step at a time—with a confidence in God that develops over many years of faith in His Person and plan.
Pastor Frank knows what we're up against, and he also knows that the church can't make the difference. There aren't enough hours in a lifetime of church-going to replace a relationship with God honed through daily encounters with Him and His Word.
Pastor Frank knows God without being stuffy or unapproachable. He's comfortable around those who aren't where he may be spiritually. He's not likely to hold a grudge but extremely likely to lend a helping hand. Does this make him a super saint? No.
He worries that he hasn't been the pastor Layton needed. He thinks his divorce counsel was inadequate. He isn't sure that it's not too late for Layton and Amy, but if not, what to say? Like all of us, Pastor Frank can't make things right for others, but sadly, he can't even make them right in his own family.
Do many people have a minister who is this involved in their lives? Who cares this deeply? Who models such love and compassion? Probably not. But wouldn't you want him to be like Pastor Frank?
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Brianne: Our Precocious Preschooler
In Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, Brianne is definitely the character who pulls our heartstrings. At four years of age she is a victim of divorce and disease. Brianne has done nothing to cause her circumstances yet she must still deal with the consequences.
Her dad calls her "a tough little girl" and we see her spunk in the way she deals with her upcoming surgery. "Mommy said the doctors are going to make me all better." But we also feel Brianne's pain as she whimpers and sleeps fitfully in the big hospital bed. We want her to be "all better."
We watch as Brianne tries to make sense of the divorce. "Are you still mad at Mommy?" she asks Layton with a child's honesty. When Layton tells her he'll stay with her after she's released from the hospital, her eyes fill with tears as she replies, "But I want you to stay all the time."
We also enjoy Brianne. We chuckle at her playful teasing with her dad, her vivid imagination, and her lively conversation. When Layton calls her Kitten, she usually replies, "Meow." They share pretend picnics and conduct business at her toy cash register.
Brianne tells us more than she could possibly understand. She talks about the regular visits of her new friend, Taylor, which has ominous implications. She's literal with her words, as are all children her age, but readers get the deeper meaning. She names her white bear "Paychunts" because she had to have patience waiting on Daddy to return from his business trips.
Brianne also has childlike faith in God, a mystery to her father who is trapped in a figurative ditch of unbelief. Layton doesn't confront her or try to talk her out of it. In a way he wishes he could believe.
We are talking in our blogs about character development. As I explain in the Acknowledgements, Brianne's character was based on my four year old granddaughter, Sara Elizabeth. Thankfully, Sara is not sick nor are her parents divorced. However, observing Sara with a great deal of intense interest(!) taught me much about a child's mind and reasoning. Also I teach preschoolers at my church. I'll have to admit that they are my favorite students, and I've taught every age group at one time or another (remember I'm a pastor's wife).
So Brianne must be my favorite character, right? Actually, she's not. But we'll discuss that later.
Her dad calls her "a tough little girl" and we see her spunk in the way she deals with her upcoming surgery. "Mommy said the doctors are going to make me all better." But we also feel Brianne's pain as she whimpers and sleeps fitfully in the big hospital bed. We want her to be "all better."
We watch as Brianne tries to make sense of the divorce. "Are you still mad at Mommy?" she asks Layton with a child's honesty. When Layton tells her he'll stay with her after she's released from the hospital, her eyes fill with tears as she replies, "But I want you to stay all the time."
We also enjoy Brianne. We chuckle at her playful teasing with her dad, her vivid imagination, and her lively conversation. When Layton calls her Kitten, she usually replies, "Meow." They share pretend picnics and conduct business at her toy cash register.
Brianne tells us more than she could possibly understand. She talks about the regular visits of her new friend, Taylor, which has ominous implications. She's literal with her words, as are all children her age, but readers get the deeper meaning. She names her white bear "Paychunts" because she had to have patience waiting on Daddy to return from his business trips.
Brianne also has childlike faith in God, a mystery to her father who is trapped in a figurative ditch of unbelief. Layton doesn't confront her or try to talk her out of it. In a way he wishes he could believe.
We are talking in our blogs about character development. As I explain in the Acknowledgements, Brianne's character was based on my four year old granddaughter, Sara Elizabeth. Thankfully, Sara is not sick nor are her parents divorced. However, observing Sara with a great deal of intense interest(!) taught me much about a child's mind and reasoning. Also I teach preschoolers at my church. I'll have to admit that they are my favorite students, and I've taught every age group at one time or another (remember I'm a pastor's wife).
So Brianne must be my favorite character, right? Actually, she's not. But we'll discuss that later.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Amy: Villainess or Heroine?
At the beginning of Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, Amy is Layton's nemesis— a thorn in his side, a burr in his saddle. Not too original a description but accurate.
Amy is the whining ex-wife who seems unaware of the pain she's caused Layton. Amy appears to care mostly about her needs getting met and having someone to cover the base with Brianne, her daughter, while she goes back to work. I challenge those (few) of you who have finished the book to go back and re-read the first three chapters! How has your impression of Amy changed?
Amy needed to start the book as the villainess because that was Layton's perception of her. After all, we continued to look at life through his filters. Perhaps there's a lesson in that. Often we take someone else's opinion of an acquaintance as the gospel truth. Perhaps if we got to know the person better, we'd discover another side to the story.
Amy helps us take that second look. Things aren't always as they appear, and even at that, we all need forgiveness and a chance to begin anew. Amy takes responsibility for her actions. I like that about her. But I wasn't prepared to like her at all. Similar to the situation with Layton, Amy grew with the book, and her character took on deeper and more brilliant hues.
Amy is a good mother. Her interactions with Brianne are warm and nurturing. Amy tried to be a good wife. Her obstacles are similar to those many of us have faced: a busy husband with a demanding job and not enough of him left at the end of the day for his family. Amy tried to be a good daughter. As an only child, she had the burden of being everything to her demanding parents. Pleasing others became a lifestyle that got her into a mess when she blamed herself for everything that went wrong.
Amy becomes a sympathetic character. We can learn a lot by how she handled adversity, and especially how she learned to trust. Amy, you're my heroine!
Amy is the whining ex-wife who seems unaware of the pain she's caused Layton. Amy appears to care mostly about her needs getting met and having someone to cover the base with Brianne, her daughter, while she goes back to work. I challenge those (few) of you who have finished the book to go back and re-read the first three chapters! How has your impression of Amy changed?
Amy needed to start the book as the villainess because that was Layton's perception of her. After all, we continued to look at life through his filters. Perhaps there's a lesson in that. Often we take someone else's opinion of an acquaintance as the gospel truth. Perhaps if we got to know the person better, we'd discover another side to the story.
Amy helps us take that second look. Things aren't always as they appear, and even at that, we all need forgiveness and a chance to begin anew. Amy takes responsibility for her actions. I like that about her. But I wasn't prepared to like her at all. Similar to the situation with Layton, Amy grew with the book, and her character took on deeper and more brilliant hues.
Amy is a good mother. Her interactions with Brianne are warm and nurturing. Amy tried to be a good wife. Her obstacles are similar to those many of us have faced: a busy husband with a demanding job and not enough of him left at the end of the day for his family. Amy tried to be a good daughter. As an only child, she had the burden of being everything to her demanding parents. Pleasing others became a lifestyle that got her into a mess when she blamed herself for everything that went wrong.
Amy becomes a sympathetic character. We can learn a lot by how she handled adversity, and especially how she learned to trust. Amy, you're my heroine!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Layton: A Work in Progress
Layton Brooks is the main character in my book, Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense. Whether you've read the book or not, you may be interested in the general subject of fictional character development. Or not. Stick with me on this. If you're still reading the book (true for 9 out of 10 of you!), don't worry. I'm not going to give anything away. I really do want you to finish it and write me a good on-line review!
At the beginning of the book Layton is angry and frustrated. Those of us who have been in a serious relationship (or grew up in a family!) can relate to his feelings. Layton is angry with his ex-wife (not too surprising) but he's also angry with God. I think most of us can also relate to this predicament. We don't feel comfortable being angry with God, and we certainly don't want to tell Him that. Why be too confrontational with Someone who can zap you right off the planet!
Layton is a kind of Everyman. If I may be so bold, we're all a little self-centered, caught up in our own side of things, and out of touch with some of our feelings. In fact we may be uneasy about sharing feelings, period. We can identify with Layton's foibles without too much discomfort. These are normal human emotions.
Layton's view of God is also fairly common. At some point in our lives, most people feel God let them down. I know I did, and I share that in the book. Layton thinks he's at least as good as most anybody he knows, yet he's dealing with some serious stuff. Is a God who seems to have turned His back on you a good God? Is He a giver or a taker?
In my main character I needed someone who represented being in a ditch—or one side of a spiritual paradox—as a means of illustrating my analogy. Layton is a vehicle, as it were, for helping us visualize our own ditch-dwelling and then, finding our way out. Of course, we need God's help to do that.
To some degree developing a fictional character resembles watching a movie play out in the author's mind. Although I had a story line in mind, Layton grew in depth and character as the story unfolded. I didn't know I'd come to care for Layton so much, or share his struggles, feel some of his pain, and wish him well in the conquest of his demons. You see, I wasn't prepared to like Layton because he represented a side of myself I don't like very much.
Perhaps in the end I learned to accept myself more—warts and all. Hopefully, that will be true for you, as well.
In my next post I'll tell about Amy, Layton's ex-wife, who I wasn't prepared to like, as well.
At the beginning of the book Layton is angry and frustrated. Those of us who have been in a serious relationship (or grew up in a family!) can relate to his feelings. Layton is angry with his ex-wife (not too surprising) but he's also angry with God. I think most of us can also relate to this predicament. We don't feel comfortable being angry with God, and we certainly don't want to tell Him that. Why be too confrontational with Someone who can zap you right off the planet!
Layton is a kind of Everyman. If I may be so bold, we're all a little self-centered, caught up in our own side of things, and out of touch with some of our feelings. In fact we may be uneasy about sharing feelings, period. We can identify with Layton's foibles without too much discomfort. These are normal human emotions.
Layton's view of God is also fairly common. At some point in our lives, most people feel God let them down. I know I did, and I share that in the book. Layton thinks he's at least as good as most anybody he knows, yet he's dealing with some serious stuff. Is a God who seems to have turned His back on you a good God? Is He a giver or a taker?
In my main character I needed someone who represented being in a ditch—or one side of a spiritual paradox—as a means of illustrating my analogy. Layton is a vehicle, as it were, for helping us visualize our own ditch-dwelling and then, finding our way out. Of course, we need God's help to do that.
To some degree developing a fictional character resembles watching a movie play out in the author's mind. Although I had a story line in mind, Layton grew in depth and character as the story unfolded. I didn't know I'd come to care for Layton so much, or share his struggles, feel some of his pain, and wish him well in the conquest of his demons. You see, I wasn't prepared to like Layton because he represented a side of myself I don't like very much.
Perhaps in the end I learned to accept myself more—warts and all. Hopefully, that will be true for you, as well.
In my next post I'll tell about Amy, Layton's ex-wife, who I wasn't prepared to like, as well.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Merging Fiction and Nonfiction: A Busy Intersection
In my previous blog I described how the combination of fiction and nonfiction came about in my book Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense. Although the idea originated with my son, Mark, the idea took root and began to grow right before my very eyes.
I soon discovered problem one: the story line didn't keep up with the content, or—was it the content that didn't keep up with the story? Interspersing them proved more difficult than I would have imagined. For example, Layton's visit to the gift shop on p. 49 was added after the chapter was finished in order to break up the teaching into chewable bites. As it turned out, the bear Paychunts became part of the character development of Brianne, as witnessed by her dialogue on p. 138.
A second problem was transitions. How would I get from Layton's story into the biblical truth and back again? Would the reader feel that he or she had been pulled from one world into the other in jerking motions, or would the manuscript flow? My copy editor, Bethany, helped immensely. All she had to do was insert the words, say what?—or some similar comment to let me know I had lost her. Occasionally, she'd guess at the invisible link!
A third problem was distinguishing the dialogue of the story from the text of the content. By putting the dialogue in italics, the fictional portion looked different. Thinking up subtitles was harder than you might imagine because again, they had to help with the transition. A last minute idea was almost my undoing. By labeling each fictional portion with a day and hour, I attempted to help the reader keep track of the time line. Unfortunately, my due day to the printer came around before I had adequately proofed the text. Did any of you catch the error on page 49? It should read "Tuesday." (I've had it corrected for subsequent copies.)
The fact that the fiction and nonfiction came together at last into a cohesive whole (or am I being too optimistic?) is proof that God is still in the miracle-working business! I learned a lot in the process, and now I'm putting what I learned to good use in my second book. The main character is Parker, and like Layton, he's having some trouble wedging himself into to this book's paradox. Pray that he makes it!
Speaking of main characters, we'll talk about the development of Layton's character next.
I soon discovered problem one: the story line didn't keep up with the content, or—was it the content that didn't keep up with the story? Interspersing them proved more difficult than I would have imagined. For example, Layton's visit to the gift shop on p. 49 was added after the chapter was finished in order to break up the teaching into chewable bites. As it turned out, the bear Paychunts became part of the character development of Brianne, as witnessed by her dialogue on p. 138.
A second problem was transitions. How would I get from Layton's story into the biblical truth and back again? Would the reader feel that he or she had been pulled from one world into the other in jerking motions, or would the manuscript flow? My copy editor, Bethany, helped immensely. All she had to do was insert the words, say what?—or some similar comment to let me know I had lost her. Occasionally, she'd guess at the invisible link!
A third problem was distinguishing the dialogue of the story from the text of the content. By putting the dialogue in italics, the fictional portion looked different. Thinking up subtitles was harder than you might imagine because again, they had to help with the transition. A last minute idea was almost my undoing. By labeling each fictional portion with a day and hour, I attempted to help the reader keep track of the time line. Unfortunately, my due day to the printer came around before I had adequately proofed the text. Did any of you catch the error on page 49? It should read "Tuesday." (I've had it corrected for subsequent copies.)
The fact that the fiction and nonfiction came together at last into a cohesive whole (or am I being too optimistic?) is proof that God is still in the miracle-working business! I learned a lot in the process, and now I'm putting what I learned to good use in my second book. The main character is Parker, and like Layton, he's having some trouble wedging himself into to this book's paradox. Pray that he makes it!
Speaking of main characters, we'll talk about the development of Layton's character next.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
How A Non-Fiction Book Turned Fictional—Not Ficticious
A funny thing happened on my way to writing a nonfiction book of spiritual insights God had so graciously given me. I let my 30-something son Mark read the fledgling manuscript, and if you've read Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, the dedication recounts his reaction.
"Mom," he said, "I think you've got something here." The rest of the story: he began to explain his generation to me. "If you want me to finish the book, you've got to peak my interest. I'm easily distracted, so even though I like your book, when something else grabs my attention, I probably won't come back to it. Then something else will divert me from that."
A little depressed by his prognosis, I asked,"So what can I do to keep you interested?"
Mark listed some options, including telling a story. He suggested, "Since you're talking about life as a journey, make up a story about a guy going on a cross-country trip." Then he left me to my machinations. I didn't know if I could write more than a short story, and Mark seemed to be implying one that would follow the book to its end. Hum—a novelette.
Boing! An idea began to form—I'll claim it was from above until someone can prove differently. A young man going on a trip from the east coast to—to—where? The town I knew best was the one I live in, so obviously he would be going to Nashville.
I knew he would be a young man because I wanted my nonfiction portion to be for both genders. From my experience as an editor I knew men would read about a man but not likely about a woman. I also knew he'd have to have a name unlike anyone I'd ever known personally. No sense in ruining a relationship.
So Layton Brooks was born. He was, of course, in between the ages of my two grown sons—a span of time I figured I knew something about. My writing instructors always told me to write about something I knew, and I thought I had a few clues about 30-something men.
But why would he be making this trip? It would have to involve the thesis of my book: that Christians walking the narrow road on the path to God's house would easily fall into a ditch on either side of the road—unless they learned to stay in the middle. Christians needed to live between the ditches.
Layton needed to be a ditch-hopper: someone who'd bounced from one ditch to another as I had done on my Christian pilgrimage. I figured Layton had stepped off the road for the same reasons many of us do, so I had a plot. All I needed was merely to make it an interesting story with believable characters and a tug or two at the old heartstrings. How hard could that be?
If you haven't read the book, I'm not going to give away any secrets. After all, you yet-to-purchase-my-book bloggers are my only hope for retirement. But I do want to share something about developing fictional characters.
In my next blogs I'll talk about Layton, then Amy and Brianne. At some point you'll learn who was my favorite character(s). I think you'll be surprised.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Signatures and Statues: A Distant Dream
I practiced several times the week before the big event. Should I sign my name with a hurried scrawl as though dozens of people were waiting on me? How about a print-cursive combo? That would make me seem sophisticated. Or, I could always sign my name as usual. Naw, too easy!
The day finally arrived. I nicked myself shaving twice—somewhat pointless since I was wearing a long billowy skirt. I got to my publisher's booth at least an hour in advance, nervously checked out the pens and copies of my book, and tried to look as though I did this a lot. The hour chimed. I picked up a copy of Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, literally hot from the printer (books arrived the day before!), and poised my pen over the title page.
Only one problem remained. There were no takers. Not one customer swarmed me, hoping to be the first in line. I waited. I made pleasant small talk with those working the booth. I glanced at my husband, who was trying to drum up business as people walked past the booth in the large exhibit area. Finally, he had a couple cornered. Ah ... no one could resist his impassioned sales pitch. Then he brought them to me. I scribbled on a note pad to make sure the pen wouldn't smear.
"Betty, you remember my mentioning these folks from that mission trip I took last summer?" Sim was off and running, recalling their adventures in Newfoundland, of all places. I put the pen down.
I did sign a book for someone wandering by who took an interest in the lady sitting all by herself with a stack of books. A few others asked questions and claimed they'd be back later. They probably reappeared after my one hour in the sun disappeared.
Discouraged? Not a bit. I'm sure there will be other signings—or at least other opportunities for signings. The fact that I, Betty Hassler, had an autograph party was beyond my expectations. And I really have had great reviews from family and friends!
Recently I attended a musical on the life of Stephen Foster ("Oh, Susanna," "My Old Kentucky Home," "Camptown Races," etc.) who died at age 37 with only a few coins in his pocket. Stephen was born before the era of copyright laws, and although he wrote hundreds of songs, he sold very few of them. Now you can see his statue and visit buildings named after him, as well as read his biography in Wikipedia.
I wonder if I should put in my will that my statue should wear a long billowy skirt hiding two nicked knees? Just a thought ...
Keep living between the ditches,
Betty
The day finally arrived. I nicked myself shaving twice—somewhat pointless since I was wearing a long billowy skirt. I got to my publisher's booth at least an hour in advance, nervously checked out the pens and copies of my book, and tried to look as though I did this a lot. The hour chimed. I picked up a copy of Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense, literally hot from the printer (books arrived the day before!), and poised my pen over the title page.
Only one problem remained. There were no takers. Not one customer swarmed me, hoping to be the first in line. I waited. I made pleasant small talk with those working the booth. I glanced at my husband, who was trying to drum up business as people walked past the booth in the large exhibit area. Finally, he had a couple cornered. Ah ... no one could resist his impassioned sales pitch. Then he brought them to me. I scribbled on a note pad to make sure the pen wouldn't smear.
"Betty, you remember my mentioning these folks from that mission trip I took last summer?" Sim was off and running, recalling their adventures in Newfoundland, of all places. I put the pen down.
I did sign a book for someone wandering by who took an interest in the lady sitting all by herself with a stack of books. A few others asked questions and claimed they'd be back later. They probably reappeared after my one hour in the sun disappeared.
Discouraged? Not a bit. I'm sure there will be other signings—or at least other opportunities for signings. The fact that I, Betty Hassler, had an autograph party was beyond my expectations. And I really have had great reviews from family and friends!
Recently I attended a musical on the life of Stephen Foster ("Oh, Susanna," "My Old Kentucky Home," "Camptown Races," etc.) who died at age 37 with only a few coins in his pocket. Stephen was born before the era of copyright laws, and although he wrote hundreds of songs, he sold very few of them. Now you can see his statue and visit buildings named after him, as well as read his biography in Wikipedia.
I wonder if I should put in my will that my statue should wear a long billowy skirt hiding two nicked knees? Just a thought ...
Keep living between the ditches,
Betty
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Bookcases and Windmills
As my husband passed the bookcase in our computer nook, I asked, "Do you see that middle shelf?
"Yes," he replied, with that what's-wrong-now look.
"It's sagging in the middle."
"Hum, you're right. What do you suppose caused it?"
My immediate thought was "cheap bookcase." I got it on sale at an office furniture store. It was a put-it-together-yourself type that I had worked on for two days before calling in a handyman to finish the job. The handyman was more expensive than the bookcase.
My second guess was that the books were too heavy for the particle board (well, it looked like wood and matched my computer desk--which came from the same store). The shelf contained two bound dissertations, three volumes of "Who's Who" and all my cookbooks (mostly unopened—ripe for Ebay).
When You're On Overload
Simply distributing the weight differently would probably have solved our problem. Except that every bookcase in our house (6 at last count) was full. Rearranging this bookshelf might entail a transfer to other, more substantial shelves in other rooms. Or, heaven forbid, giving away some precious books. There wasn't going to be a quick solution.
Then an analogy poofed into being: my overloaded mind. Not a simple solution, either.
I grew up with Glenn Campbell singing "Windmills of My Mind." The song made a lasting impression because I lived in west Texas where dust storms were more feared than tornadoes. In west Texas, if you found a windmill that wasn't whirring, it was broken. Even as a child, my mind whirred with ideas, dreams, goals, and all the stuff of a great imagination.
Almost a thousand miles from west Texas and with Glenn Campbell nearing retirement, my mind still whirs. Getting it to stop—or at least slow down—proves difficult. All those unwritten books, articles, letters to the editor, not to mention keeping up with Facebook; e-mail; LinkedIn; birthday, sympathy, and get well cards—minds, like bookshelves, can get overwhelmed, even those of the most dedicated workaholics.
Unloading the Overload
I'm staring at the sagging bookshelf. I'm thinking about what's left on my mental "to do" list. But I'm about to finish my blog for now. Strike one thing off the list! It's time for celebration!
Except that I need to spend an hour or so on my second book (the first one is at the printers), and time is wasting. Or is it?
To unload the overload I've got to unwind the windmill. It occurred to me that a windmill looks a lot like my bedroom ceiling fan. When it's blowing more than needed, I simply turn it down one or more speeds. Occasionally, I turn it off. All I need is a chord to pull.
Time is precious, but so is rest, reflection, and renewal. I'm pulling the chord to slow speed. Humm ... it's feeling good.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Birthing Books and Babies
Scarlett O'Hara's maid didn't know nothin' about birthing no babies! But I've learned a lot recently about the connection between birthing books and babies.
1. Books and babies are birthed in their own good time, regardless of due dates.
My manuscript was due to my publisher on May 1, 2009. On April 26 I had finished reviewing 11 of the 12 chapters I had received from my copy editor and prematurely breathed a sigh of relief. On April 27 I had intended to finish the last chapter and back matter and send the manuscript to my editor when I got home from work. My unborn grandchild was due April 29, and we had thought he would be late, according to the doctor. No problem, right? Wrong! At 2:30 p.m. that Monday I was in my office when my son Scott called to tell me his wife was in labor with their second child and could I please call his dad. We were to leave ASAP for Pensacola, FL.
So much for the best laid plans of mice and women. Although Nathan Andrew was born before we arrived, I was with him, his parents, and his sister on May 1—and chapter 12 was a distant memory. On May 5 the publisher received the book with my apologies.
Some things in life take their own sweet time. Others come unexpectedly. Books and babies have their own timetable, and it's best to let nature take its course.
2. Books and babies just pop out.
Did that come out of me? I look at my manuscript and feel amazed that these words emanated from some place deep within me that I didn't even know existed.
My 4-year-old granddaughter had asked her mom, "How is that baby in your tummy going to get out?" Becky, thinking quickly on her feet, said, "It will just pop out." Several times last week Sara remarked on how Mommy's baby just popped out. It seemed a reasonable explanation to her.
How appropriate, I thought. I incubated my book for longer than nine months, but eventually, the words just popped out. When those who read the book ask, "Where did those ideas come from?" I have the perfect answer. "They just popped out."
What's in you that needs to pop out? Let the words flow!
1. Books and babies are birthed in their own good time, regardless of due dates.
My manuscript was due to my publisher on May 1, 2009. On April 26 I had finished reviewing 11 of the 12 chapters I had received from my copy editor and prematurely breathed a sigh of relief. On April 27 I had intended to finish the last chapter and back matter and send the manuscript to my editor when I got home from work. My unborn grandchild was due April 29, and we had thought he would be late, according to the doctor. No problem, right? Wrong! At 2:30 p.m. that Monday I was in my office when my son Scott called to tell me his wife was in labor with their second child and could I please call his dad. We were to leave ASAP for Pensacola, FL.
So much for the best laid plans of mice and women. Although Nathan Andrew was born before we arrived, I was with him, his parents, and his sister on May 1—and chapter 12 was a distant memory. On May 5 the publisher received the book with my apologies.
Some things in life take their own sweet time. Others come unexpectedly. Books and babies have their own timetable, and it's best to let nature take its course.
2. Books and babies just pop out.
Did that come out of me? I look at my manuscript and feel amazed that these words emanated from some place deep within me that I didn't even know existed.
My 4-year-old granddaughter had asked her mom, "How is that baby in your tummy going to get out?" Becky, thinking quickly on her feet, said, "It will just pop out." Several times last week Sara remarked on how Mommy's baby just popped out. It seemed a reasonable explanation to her.
How appropriate, I thought. I incubated my book for longer than nine months, but eventually, the words just popped out. When those who read the book ask, "Where did those ideas come from?" I have the perfect answer. "They just popped out."
What's in you that needs to pop out? Let the words flow!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Writing Bug Aptly Named
Did you know that bed bugs are a national epidemic? So said the evening news last night. Thousands of dollars can be spent trying to eradicate them once they creep or are carried in to your home. They make red sores that itch constantly.
What do writing and bed bugs have in common? The bite. The itch. When the writing bug bites, you best tend to it because it won't go away. When I try to calculate how many hours I've sat at the computer thinking, then typing, then pressing delete—I've probably spent thousands of dollars in lost income trying to scratch that itch.
Scratching an itch satisfies only temporarily. Many nights as I head for bed I've sworn my computer will stay in sleep mode much longer than I will, only to find I'm right back here the next day pecking away.
Do you know of an exterminator for the writing bug?
Keep living between the ditches,
Betty
What do writing and bed bugs have in common? The bite. The itch. When the writing bug bites, you best tend to it because it won't go away. When I try to calculate how many hours I've sat at the computer thinking, then typing, then pressing delete—I've probably spent thousands of dollars in lost income trying to scratch that itch.
Scratching an itch satisfies only temporarily. Many nights as I head for bed I've sworn my computer will stay in sleep mode much longer than I will, only to find I'm right back here the next day pecking away.
Do you know of an exterminator for the writing bug?
Keep living between the ditches,
Betty
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Got a book in you?
They say everyone's got a book in them. That would be fine with me, but my problem is that I've not only gotten one book out of me, but I have at least two more in me. (Okay, four!)
The bug hit when I was in the second grade. I hid my manuscript under my bed. The notebook paper with large penciled letters was off-limits to my younger sister, and no one else looked under my bed. Fortunately, I suppose, we moved a lot when I was young, so the book didn't stay under the bed long. When I finally dragged it out on moving day, I skimmed the pages. In a flash of insight I recognized the plot: the soap opera my mother watched daily.
Maybe an unoriginal start, but a diary followed; then reams of stories, poetry, essays, and lessons. The writing bug, fattened by a steady diet of library books, was worming its way into my neurons. I was hooked.
A college major in English, a couple of post-graduate degrees, two rejected book manuscripts, a number of magazine and curriculum-related articles, and a career in teaching and publishing followed. Then it happened. A publisher said yes.
Living Between the Ditches: When God Makes No Sense will be published in June. I'd love to sit on my laurels, knowing my grandchildren can order POD, but the bug is biting again. I was finishing a household task this evening when my thoughts drifted to the main character in my next book. He was playing on the stairwell in his home when he was a little boy.
I'd love to tell you more, but I've got to write the story down before I forget it.
Live between the ditches,
Betty
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