June 2006 Forecast: Windswept Weddings

Okay, I've got to say it. Amazon, CBD, and WalMart all have Windswept Weddings listed for June 2006 release. And... you can get a sneak peek at the cover here. The cover is super--the veil is just what I imagined. Eventually galleys will come my way and there'll be probably minor edits. Then the fun starts! Marketing. I'll be learning that as I go.

Seeing the cover made my night. Lately my work in progress has been a trial in just plowing through the story. One day I hope it'll get easier. I read the first chapter of a suspense author's latest novel, an author I admire, and I went, "Wow, her work just flows." One day too, I hope I'll get that kind of flow in my own work.

Three "Normal" Thanksgivings Left...

after this one, until our oldest graduates. Will he be away at college four years from now? Or home working and going to college? The circles of our kids' lives are growing wider and wider each year until finally they'll be far away. I can't help it. I think of things like this. When they were much younger, they drove me nuts sometimes...but it was a fun kind of crazy. Now I'm wondering where the years took off to. I wonder sometimes, too, why we didn't have a third, or even a fourth, Sowell child join the family. But God knows, and I have to trust I've done the best I can with the kids He blessed me with--not by my own womb, but through love and marriage. They were so little when we became a family. Now they can look me in the eye and pretty soon will look down on me. I want them to have it so much better than I--raised in the faith, I still had my problems and issues that even now I grapple with. No wonder youth is wasted on the young and when we're young, sometimes we're pretty hardheaded thinking the older wiser ones don't know what they're talking about.

The book is doing better. I'm trying to be patient and just write it, and let the process work, and trust that all the studying I've done will pay off when I have serious butt-to-chair time.

My next novella isn't due on the editor's desk until January 31st, so I'm okay where that stands. I finally feel like I have a workable writing plan. (And yes, of course, I think--"Wow!! This time next year I'll have THREE books out!")

We have a five gallon bucket in the kitchen. It brims with pecans. The bucket, not the kitchen. The ancient tree in the back yard has had a bumper crop this year, so yes, sir!--yes, ma'am!--we're having pecan pie for Thanksgiving. Oh, and yes, yours truly sits for a bit in the evenings and cracks the shells. I've filled about two-thirds of a gallon ziplock bag so far. Yum!! We might not have Texas black gold on our property, but we have almost the next best thing.

This year, as always, I am thankful for much.

Madame Blueberry has it right: "A thankful heart is a happy heart."

Cruisin' Through...

A cool quote I read recently:
"Religion is a guy in church thinking about fishing. Spirituality is a guy out fishing thinking about God." That's what it means to me. (Not the fishing part, I haven't done that in years.) Religion means being stuck somewhere when you'd rather be somewhere else. What holds your heart isn't religion. Religion is the law without having a relationship of worship. At best, worship is a chore. But spiritual worship can take place anywhere, at anytime. So what if the trees don't have a band. They wave their branches an rustle in the wind and live out Psalm 150. I believe we can live our lives as an act of worship.

At church we've been studying the book of John. I've read it before quite a few times. When I was much younger and went to a private school, we even memorized chunks of chapters 14 through 17. But when you really get into John's portrayal of Jesus, you'll see what a radical He was. (And is.)

On the writing front, I'm still working on my book quandary. The trouble is, I love research. I get so excited about a new idea I'd like to flesh out, that it's easy to spend time. Writing is hard work, place-your-butt-in-the-chair work.

I'm tired. Reading some new books, organizing my schedule for the next few months. They're going to be busy. Time to head off to dreamland!

Stuck-stuck-stuck!

I'm stuck on this story and the thing won't budge. I only have a month or so before I must leave it behind for a bit and focus on my contracted deadlines of January 31 and April 1.

This suspense story has undergone so many metamorphoses, and now I'm not sure if it's turning into anything better than it was before. Every time I hear someone's input, I feel I need to slice up the whole thing. Now, I think I'm afraid to write. What's happened to me?

This week on the ACFW loop we've been talking about rejections, and how it's important to keep submitting. It dawned on me not long ago that I haven't submitted anything new since the novella that sold this spring, and now I've only got one proposal sitting on an editor's desk. I think I need to get busy. I tell myself a hundred times that if I don't submit, I won't hear back. Is it being afraid of rejection?

I don't think so. I'm afraid of not getting it right once again. I've been told I need to knock it out of the park with my writing, yet somehow I'm not sure exactly how to do that.

I've been digging deeper into my heroine, and my hero. She's been easier to delve into--not easy, but easier than the hero. I see more changes on the horizon.

In short though, I need to just get it written.

I'll do some of that tonight. If I can keep my blog going all year, surely I can get this book proposal into shape and in the mail!

Camaraderie

I taste the loneliness
thick enough to eat with a spoon

I hear their joy of belonging
and wish that I could bask in the warmth
they feel

I want to say
Don't be nice to me because you're a Christian and you have to

Be my friend because you want to.

Alone in the crowd

Still I wait.

Ho, ho, ho!

On Today's Menu:
A nice cup o' hot chocolate (marshmallows optional)

Tonight, we decorated the Christmas tree. Yep, you heard right! I made hot chocolate, and we put on the Christmas music. It's a tad chilly tonight, damp and cloudy--perfect fall weather in Texas. This year we flipped for a good artificial tree, a gorgeous Noble fir eight feet tall. I'm tired of sweeping up pine needles and having the cats knock over a real tree like they did one year (don't ask--I lost some pretty ornaments in that two a.m. fiasco). If only this smelled like a real tree. But it looks real.

Cars have driven past our house since October first. Drivers sometimes hit the brakes, honk, or pass a little more slowly. Some men drink, some run around, some smoke like chimneys, some spend all their money on hobbies that don't include their families. My man? He's Kris Kringle's nephew and he can't pass up decorations and lights. If the original Saint Nicholas really had a long-lost relative, that would be C.J.

Last year, we didn't really get to decorate until the second week of December because of our living room renovations. (Poor C.J.) So, like the good wife I am, I promised he could start decorating the house in October.

The kids of course helped. I reminded Zach, who remarked he'd rather be in his room reading, that in a few years he'll be at college and we'll do this without him. Where did the little sprites go with blonde hair and sparkling eyes? Now they can look me right in the eye, and don't say I told you, but I think they're already a little taller than me.

Christmas just can't last long enough.

Synergy!

Scientists talk about synergy, which according to Merriam-Webster simply means, "working together." A more expanded definition is "An effect of the interaction of the actions of two agents such that the result of the combined action is greater than expected as a simple additive combination of the two agents acting separately." Better put, we're stronger together than we are separately.

I saw synergy in action this weekend. On Saturday, October 1st, C.J. and I went with our buddies John and Lisa to roast in the sun at Kyle Field and see Texas A&M beat the Baylor Bears--in overtime! What an experience. We were in the semi-nosebleed seats. All we could see throughout the stands was maroon-and-white (with the rare Baylor green and orange). I won't get into the Baylor-A&M rivalry, which is nothing when compared to the Aggie War Hymn bellowing the merits of beating UT--saw Varsity's horns off--short!

The Aggie culture possesses a ton of traditions, handed down from student to student throughout the years. One of the unique things about Aggie is that no matter where you meet one in the world, you'll find they know and understand the traditions. It's an instant kinship I haven't seen in any other group. Well, maybe one group. I'll get to that later.

Take a look at the picture above--thousands of cheering students, on their feet for over three hours in the blazing Texas sun. From the photo you can't pick out anyone's age, economic status, upbringing, or race. All you can see is--they're Aggies, and they're working together to win. Down on the field, the players recognized the power of the "12th man," better known as the Aggie fans. The players would turn to the crowd and raise both arms as if summoning the cheer. In response, tens of thousands of voices would unite in a roar so loud you couldn't hear the person next to you. When the Aggies won--I thought the shout would shake the stands.

In our Sunday morning Bible fellowship we've been studying the writings of John. This has stood out to me:

The goal is for all of them to become one heart and mind--
Just as you, Father, are in me and I in you,
So they might be one heart and mind with us.
Then the world might believe that you, in fact, sent me.
The same glory you gave me, I gave them,
So they'll be as unified and together as we are--
I in them and you in me.
Then they'll be mature in this oneness,
And give the godless world evidence
That you've sent me and loved them
In the same way you've loved me.
(John 17:21-23)

That's the synergy God wants for us. For many years, in many ways, the Church has failed to show that oneness and unity. We meet a Christian in another part of the world, another country, another church, and when we see them, it should be like having an instant connection. Hey, you love Him, too, huh? Maybe we don't have the same traditions or sing the same songs. But we have the same foundation. I'm praying that John 17 prayer. We could use more synergy in the Church. We sure can't get the job done on our own!

Ask, Seek, Knock

"Zach, I'm not a mind-reader. If you need help or don't understand something, please ASK! I want to help you, but if I don't know, I can't."

My words to my son echo in my ears. So many times in the past, Zach has slipped under the radar because he hasn't spoken up in school. I haven't either. Not in school, but I've reached a point in my writing where something's got to give. I know quite a few authors through the writers' group where I'm a member. Do I ever ask for help? Usually it's like this:

"They'll say no."

"They're too busy."

"They're already helping people."

How do I know any of this? I don't.

Learning to ask for help is sometimes difficult for us independent types. We want to do it ourselves. Maybe we don't think enough of ourselves to believe anyone would help us. Or like Zach, do we think people "should know" we need help? I don't mean asking someone for help you've never met before and have no professional relationship. I mean, a writer asking a fellow writer for a hand.

I say these things because I know I'm not the only one who faces these dilemmas. Not wanting a critique or a line edit, but wanting some input and direction, and perhaps some correction, as painful at that may be.

"Ask, seek, knock" doesn't mean we're desperate. But then again, it doesn't mean sitting around waiting for someone to notice we could use some answers.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Okay, so it's not really New Year's. But the ACFW conference ended and I'm home from Nashville. Wow, what a rollercoaster. Seeing my friends, making some new ones, meeting some critique partners for the first time--all terrific! And the classes, oh, my brain is full. I can't wait to listen to the CDs for classes I missed. There's no way I could do it all!

I also found out how much I still have to learn. I repented of squandering my time. I came off my high horse, realizing I have a long way to go to being a more excellent author. I liken it to rock climbing, something I'd love to do once I lose 100 pounds and get into shape (but that's another story). You can only go up one handhold or foothold at a time. Sometimes you hit plateaus and look around thinking, "Wow, how far I've come." But then tilt your head back a bit and see how much rock face there is left to climb. I'm climbing!!

I left the conference with a request for a manuscript and a proposal from two agents, and an editor requested a proposal of the same book. PLUS--drumroll!--my long-neglected novel, Star's Daughter, won first place in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy category of the Noble Theme contest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't hear. I didn't know I had so many supporters--thanks, everyone! I too cheered and screamed for other friends who won or placed in different categories. I loved seeing my author friends Linda Wichman and Chris Lynxwiler win in their categories for Book of the Year. I remember their stories before publication, and it sure was exciting to see how far they've come.

So I'm checking Star's Daughter over once again before sending a query to a publisher looking for fantasy stories.

But back to the New Year's thing. I have a whole year between now and the next conference to get ready. So what am I going to do? Work and write like it's a New Year's resolution. I'm ready to go!

So, HAPPY NEW YEAR! Time to get my word count in for the night.

Nashville, here I come!

I'm so excited. I leave Wednesday for Nashville where I'm attending the American Christian Fiction Writers conference. The only downer is leaving my family and kitties behind, but I'll survive until Sunday. (Did I say I was excited?) Can't wait to see my writing buddy and roomie Linda Mae again, plus a ton of other author friends. I'm talking to at least one agent at the conference. We'll see what comes of that. I'm helping in the bookstore. I'm Christmas shopping for books too. I'm in a tizzy getting my business casual wardrobe together for one last go through. Yes, again, I'm excited. I'm getting about as repetitious as one of those doctors I transcribe for.

I finished my edits on Heart's Refuge and it was e-mailed to the editor on Friday, along with the other stories in our anthology. I loved working on this story. It was fun to write towards a goal and know that this book is a done deal. Yet even as I clicked the "send" button on the e-mail sending HR to Rachel, I got a tad queasy.

What if it's not as good as they expected? What if the copy editor makes a ton of changes? What if? What if? What if someone hates it? What if it offends someone? (I can't think how.) But then I'm feeling self-conscious again. The old case of nerves and self-consciousness reveals again how it's so easy to slip into selfishness, as if the story is a reflection of me. It's not. People think of us far less than we realize most of the time. I don't want to be self-conscious.

As I get ready to leave Wednesday afternoon, I want to keep this in mind. The more self-conscious I am, the more I'm in the driver's seat, the more I calculate every word, every gesture--the more I think I'm in the spotlight, the worse it gets. So let's repeat this together, "It's not about me." (And thanks to Rachel for the reminder!)

Fostering Hope

Sometimes there are problems so wide and deep that we never think we will come to the end of them. It's the end of the weekend and it's been emotionally draining. New stories emerge from the aftermath of the hurricane. You know what I didn't know? The size of the relief area is estimated to be around 90,000 square miles, roughly the size of Great Britain? Like many people, I've been shaking my head wondering, "Why did help take so long?" We want things to be in a 90-minute movie where the bad guys are stopped, the good guys triumph, and the "extra" who dies didn't really die because he was only acting. Somehow battalions of aid works and tons of supplies just "appear" on the scene. The waves of water are only computer-generated, the wreckage only props. Not so. Real life moves more slowly and makes us pay dearly.

Frustration can give way to rage that seeks to pin blame on anything and anyone that makes a convenient target. The he-said, she-said, they-did, they-didn't can go on and on forever. Those of us who aren't in the know except by what the media feeds us can't go on rumors and excerpts from broadcasts "someone saw." We let our experience and beliefs color our opinions of what we see.

For example, I know someone who doesn't understand why "all those people" didn't just leave New Orleans. He thinks, "they stayed so they could loot."

I told him (after I resisted the urge to share a piece of my mind with him not so subtly), "Not everyone has a reliable vehicle they can just fill up with gas and drive. Some people--the poor, the elderly, the handicapped--they have no one to help them. They had no way out." So of course they didn't leave. Where? How? Poverty has shown how it limits people. I relate to Paul's words: "I've had little. I've had a lot. I've learned to be content." And I've never forgotten the days when I didn't have a steady reliable paycheck. During times like that, I did what I could. So did they.

So now, waves of evacuees have reached my area. We're going to help out however we can. Please, again, help in your local area. One person can't do everything, but we can all do something.

I e-mailed some fellow authors for help when I had a brainstorm. I thought of a way to find hope and comfort in a tangible way for some refugees, especially the ones in the mass shelters around Texas. Hair care. No matter what her race, a woman likes to do her hair. Girls like to play "hair do." I asked what kind of styling products African-American women would need and appreciate. (It's been a long time since Sheila Lee was my roommate in college back in '86.) Here is what author Mary Griffith shared with me:

"Large tooth combs, rubber bands (Wal mart hare care .99 for about 500) or hair elastics (Goody or other), barrettes for the little girls, hair grease (coconut grease is about 2.00 for a big jar, there are smaller jars for about .96), shampoo (Motions, Cream of Nature or other AA line, again on Wal Mart black hair care aisle), conditioner (anything cholesterol from Queen Helene, Motions or other, again Wal Mart), Magic Shave for the men's razor bumps, relaxer kits (precise, soft and beautiful, African pride are all 5.00 and under at wal mart), lotion for skin (.99 Jergens is fine), afro picks, headscarves (in black hair section of walmart for 2.00)

Any of the above would be greatly appreciated. People will definitely want to do their little girl's hair which can be done with grease, rubber bands or hair elastics, barrettes and possible "knockers", those big balls on elastic bands that you twine around ponytails. You can find these things reasonably at Wal Mart, but if there is an Oriental beauty supply in your area, you may want to compare there as the barrettes and knockers may be cheaper there, but Wal Mart is very comparable."

So besides diapers and lotion and stuffed animals, I'm going to get a bunch of products so some of the ladies can feel a little bit "done" again. They may not have a permanent home, but they'll have a little dignity. And maybe that will foster a little hope. I pray so. We need hope for the long road ahead.

And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations,
knowing that tribulation produces perseverance;
and perseverance, character; and character, hope.
Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God
has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.

Vulnerable

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.


This week I've been reminded at how precarious life is. I complain about the smallest things sometimes. I think now I'm going to keep quiet and count my blessings even more. I've heard some people saying about New Orleans, "All that sin got washed into the Gulf," and it sickens me. They act as if it's a good thing. These are people who call themselves Christians, i.e., followers of Christ. I read in my Bible that God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, and that whoever believes in Him should not die, but have everlasting life. That God didn't send His Son to condemn the world, but to save the world through His Son. I recall Zacchaeus, the tax collector and sinner who snuck a peek at Jesus when He came to town. And Jesus ended up inviting Himself to Zacchaeus' house for dinner--not banishing his sinner's house to the sea. Zacchaeus then realized he needed a change, and that Jesus could give him the change he wanted. Wow, and Zacchaeus ended up paying back with interest everything he'd swindled in his tax dealings (I think he was a card-carrying member of The Sinners' Club). The people Jesus really got cranky with were the religious ones who looked down on others and imposed legalism without changed hearts. While there are sinners in New Orleans, let's not forget the whole world is full of them. I'm a sinner who's found a way out because of Jesus' love, not His condemnation. I don't care if the ones suffering are sinners or blameless, because they deserve our compassion. Jesus would do no less.

CoffeeCup, the web site software company down in Corpus Christi, is soliciting donations that they're planning to truck up to the Astrodome. We're getting some boxes together to send down to them soon. If you want to get involved, check this out:

CoffeeCup Hurricane Relief

If you would rather give money, contribute to

The American Red Cross

Another way to give, especially if you live in the Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Alabama or Mississippi areas: Call your local school district and find out if there are any evacuees in your school district. These children are enrolling in school and have nothing right now. You can make a difference by donating clothes, school supplies, and other essentials while these families take refuge.

Lord, thanks for your blessings. Thanks for your mercy and grace, fresh and new every morning. Let us look to meet the needs around us. We may not be able to do everything, but we can all do something. Give wisdom to the relief workers and those in charge, bring order to chaos, peace to disorder, love from hate, hope from despair. Let your Spirit hover over the waters and make yourself known in this dark time.

Calgon, take me awayyyy....

On Today's Menu
A Big Pot O' Goulash

First, I should say I don't like goulash. Life has been a pot o' goulash lately. Oh, I like life very much. It's just the mix that's getting on my nerves.

Nick Arrojo, where ARE you?? What was I thinking, going to a new stylist and getting a brand new do? I need you. I need your $200 haircut. Whisk me away to "What Not To Wear" and work your magic. (I'll even pay.) I feel like a shorn sheep with a puffy face. Hannah screamed Friday when I picked her up after volleyball practice. "Omigosh!"

"What?" I looked around.

"Your HAIR!"

I wanted to start crying again. The girl who cut Hannah's hair did an amazing job, so I picked up her card. Then this week I went in and had her cut mine. I guess she had a good day when she did Hannah's hair. OH, mine looks perky and I can get it to flip, but it won't stay that way. Forget the publicity photo shoot in Nashville at the writers' conference. By Christmas some of it should be grown out again. But now...I hate looking in the mirror, and I realize how vain I really am. For a "big" girl. (gulp)

Which brings me to another thing. CJ and I are starting Body for Life again on Monday. I'm so tired of looking big on the outside and feeling smaller inside. I haven't seen anyone treat me differently for being about a hundred pounds overweight, but maybe God's kept me blind to that. Society should know that fat people don't sit around eating donuts all the time, nor or they lazy or want to dress like old fuddy-duddies. I eat (relatively) healthy. I've worked a desk job for the past almost 10 years, and I can tell. I need to get moving. Eat smaller meals. Work my muscles. All of which Body For Life does. So maybe it's not the hair. It's my face. With longer hair, I didn't notice my "pooch" face as much. Now, well. I'm pushing 38 and working against gravity, too.

In about a month I'll be in Nashville at the American Christian Fiction Writers annual conference. I'm excited about seeing writing friends, hanging out, networking and brainstorming with other writers about some projects. Talking to some agents and editors, soaking in the classes. My novel is one of the top three finalists in the Noble Theme contest in the Sci/Fi Fantasy category. I'm excited about just making the top three. My pal Ronie made the top three in Sci/Fi Fantasy also, and some other writer friends finalled in other categories. We've already got a nail biters' table planned for Saturday lunch at the conference, when the winners are named.

Yet there's that carrot dangling in front of me to be the best. Not that I'm "better than everyone," but to continually improve at my craft and storytelling to be better than I am now. I'm never quite satisfied. (Okay, I may pat myself on the back on occasion, then pick up another author's book and go, "Wow, wish I'd written that!) And so it goes...

I told you this was a goulash! Which brings me to something else. One more, and I'm done. Writing isn't about me, it's about the story. Right now I'm trying to figure out what stories I'm supposed to tell. What's my tag line? I've written contemporary, historical, suspense, fantasy. Whichever work in progress I'm slaving over is my favorite story at that time. I never write a story I'm not passionate about. To me, the pages of a story should swallow you up and pull you on an adventure. Hence, "Adventures on Paper." I'm not nailed down to a particular genre (yet). Plus, I got some awesome business cards at VistaPrint, so I'm stuck with the tag for now.

Enough! I'm done for tonight. Through bad haircuts, poofy faces, writing stuff, and kids starting school, my Lord is on the throne yet still close enough to whisper in my ear. I like that!

Lotsa Life in these Minutes

Why is it that everything has to happen on a weekend? Oh, yes. I slap my forehead. Because we're working during the week. Tell me why we rented a floor sander from Home Depot on Saturday so we could sand Hannah's floor. This stuff is never as easy as it looks on those shows, even with their carefully-scripted crises. And what's more? Home Depot doesn't make their money off a $35-for-3-days rental. They make their money off the sandpaper at 5 bucks a sheet. Whew. Add grocery shopping to the mix, a run to our favorite clothes' store for the "no tax weekend" bunch of outfits for the kids, and three nights of special services at church starting Friday night.

I survived. The special services were just that--special. I've got a lot of notes to re-read and a lot of personal reflection and quiet time to absorb what the Lord is showing me. Maybe I'll share some of it here. We'll see. I've realized I've got a long way to go, that I could stand to have more compassion for people, and more of the Word in my life.

Tonight after service and ordering Pizza Hut, I've spent the past hour using the hand sander on the floor. I think I'm going to call it Hand Sander Pilates. My abs and back and legs, not to mention my tingling arms, are getting a workout. The big rental sander takes off just that--big stuff. Now we're going behind and babyin' that birch floor, and it's going to be gorgeous when it's finished (no pun intended). I know Hannah will be thrilled to have "her" room back again. I'll be thrilled when we're done.

Oh, to luxuriate in a regular work week. (I'll remember this when they're asking for their required two hours' overtime.)

Bloggies

Your Blogging Type is Artistic and Passionate

You see your blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great. One moment you may be working on a new dramatic design for your blog... And the next, you're passionately writing about your pet causes. Your blog is very important - and you're careful about who you share it with.

What's Your Blogging Personality?

Call me copycat, but I got this off another author's blog, and thought it was kinda neat. They got me pegged on this one! Only four questions, so I doubt it's scientifically accurate. But my topics vary, and they're about things I care about. I'm not careful about who I share it with--hey, it's the Web. But I'm careful about what I share. Gotta watch those rants, ya know?

I'm up to my armpits in index cards. Busy writing time ahead!

Lotsa Life

What happened to our vacation?? Over already and we're back in the thick of it. Redoing our daughter's room, back at work, activities for church--oh yeah, and writing! My novella isn't so bad as I was afraid. I think I might learn to like self-editing after all. It's the second guessing myself I don't like. Did I overlook something? Do I think it flows well when really it's drivel? Did I forget to add an important element? Once this puppy's turned in, that's that!

Oh. And, add to the above the fact that I'm working on my web site. It's posted now, and I'm kinda proud of what's up there: www.lynettesowell.com. Except my links to fiction and non-fiction don't work. Huh. The folks at the Surpass on-line community have been so helpful to this newbie. I'm glad to say my links to e-mail and my blog work, that and returning to the home page. I think I like my design. Couldn't just get something out of the box, but had to make up my own based on certain sites I like. I like complicated, but not when my links don't work. Hopefully my learning curve will accelerate and I'll be totally live!

We said goodbye to Paul today. My "nephew," 18, has left for the Marines and bootcamp. I'm beyond proud of this young man. I pray he'll enjoy his first dive into the world and still stay true to how he's been raised. Of course the next 13 weeks will be the toughest of his life. But he'll get through it. He's got a solid Foundation. I pray my kids do, as they follow in his footsteps. Not to the Marines, but into the big adventure of life.

Gotta run and see how the carpet's coming up in Hannah's room.

Unpacking

Wow, I'm tired. Great vacation, though. My hubby built bridges with his dad, and we enjoyed the Tennessee weather. Of course we got the aftermath of Dennis, which actually was not bad. It rained the whole day. While we were away, it also rained every night. I can't complain. We arrived back in the Texas heat today.

I stayed up late Friday (reading, so I wasn't tortured) doing laundry, which now has to be all rewashed. CJ were the only two adults who didn't smoke where we visited. Blech-blech-blech!!!

I had a delicious introduction to chocolate gravy served over biscuits for breakfast. Yum-yum-yum. I came home with a recipe too. It's a deep South thing, and made my Yankee roots go, "We never heard about this up north!"

We walked the battlefields of Shiloh, beautiful and a little sad. I think if you stand quietly enough, you can still hear the muskets firing. CJ and I walked a couple of cemeteries, and found many of his relatives. We're going to research the names and dates to piece together a family tree. I think he fits a little better in his skin now, knowing where he's from, since he never grew up with his dad and hadn't seen him in 15 years. The kids groan every time we pass a cemetery now. "Please, no more!"

On the way home, we stopped in Little Rock where we met my writing buddy Robin Miller for supper at Denny's. It was so cool to see someone in person who speaks the same language I do. The hour we had went too quickly. (Sorry, Robin!!) We probably could have sat and yacked all night.

I heard from some new characters, too, and I hope I can listen to their stories one day. I arrive home to a stack of work for the writing life:
1. Anthology draft edits before sending to critique buddies.
2. Another proposal that needs a few changes before sending to editor.
3. A NEW proposal I'm working on--deadline creeping up on me!
4. Another look at my WIP, a suspense, that I'm sending for my ACFW critique in September. I'm a bit nervous about this one. I had to drop it for a bit to work on the anthology. Now I'm ready to tackle it again, and I'm wondering if it'll be up to par for this critiquer. They're big in the business and I don't want to botch this opportunity.
5. My fantasy story, long sitting on the shelf.

I haven't even checked the work computer for e-mail. Talk about jumping in with both feet!

But I'm home again, tired yet happy. My kitty's mad at me for being away for a week. I figure she'll get over it. Soon. Sometimes the best part about going on vacation is coming home again.

Out of the Mulligrubs

Wow, what a downer post last night. Sorry, folks. This is one slice of life you don't really want to serve when guests come. It's the kind of stuff you dig out of the fridge at 2:00 a.m. when you wake up and need to eat something. I'd much rather pull out the cheesecake or chocolate fudge cake to serve up to y'all with a good round of strong coffee.

Anyway! I'm out of the land of the Mulligrubs tonight. Thanks, Robin, Camy--I know you're friends and I appreciate you, even though we don't get to chat a lot. The writer's world can be a lonely one. Last night I ended up in the ACFW chat room and actually got acquainted with another writer, plus another friend logged on. So it was nice. We do need each other. Maybe friendships don't turn out the way we expect, but there's a lot to be said for accepting the gifts God gives to us through people. There's also a lot to be said for recognizing gifts when they're right in front of us.

The countdown to vacation has begun. Saturday, 5:00 a.m., we're pulling out for a week. I plan to stop off when we go through Little Rock and say hi to a writing buddy, Robin Miller. We also plan to spend some time in Memphis soakin' up some culture. That, and build some bridges with my husband's father's side of the family. It should be interesting, to say the least.

Until next time... :-)

Is It My Breath?

"The wounds of a friend are faithful, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." This hermit treasures her friends. But there's one person I've tried to reach out to in friendship, and nothing...silence. Does it hurt? Yeah. It stings. We share a common faith, common interests, and common personal battles. I would like to call her friend. At one time, we shared a good friendship. But things have changed. I hear her warmth and humor about other people, and when I send a note, all I hear is silence. She's not my enemy, but is she my friend? At one time, I thought so. Friendships take care and maintenance, and somewhere along the line ours has fizzled. Was it my fault? Was it something I said? Is my walk not deep enough to be her friend?

"He who wants friends must show himself friendly." Which is what I've done. Guess it hasn't worked in this case. I have a Friend, though, who sticks closer than a brother. (And I don't have brothers.) I leaned on Him for a while tonight, and I felt comforted.

If you haven't heard from a friend in a while, why not e-mail them or call and just say hi? It's hard to be friends with someone who only calls or writes when they need something. So give 'em a holler, no strings attached.

I probably have done nothing to offend her or put her off in any way. It's just one of those things, I guess. I hear people talk about the close writer friends they have, and maybe I'm the one who's cut myself off from people. I think most of us feel that way at times, left out on the joke, the fun, the elbow-to-elbow camaraderie. Which is why I need to lean a little more tonight on my Best Friend, who understands me better than even I can--me, who tries not to over-analyze things. He'll remind me once more that it's not about me. Or my breath.

A Quick Update

17,697 / 20,000 (88.0%)

This is my word count as of the 28th. I'm pleased. The novella's not finished, but I'm happy with the framework I've put in place. I found out the minimum is 18,000 with a maximum of 20,000. I need to flesh out about two to three more scenes. I'm sure I have polishing to do other places. Strengthen verbs, check the emotions, watch for cliches, all the rewriting stuff and editing before I show the rest of the group. Signing off for now....zzz....won a killer Monopoly game tonight with over 13 grand in cash. Have a happy 4th. Thanks to all our troops, past and present. But thank you will never be enough.