Back in the Fast Lane: Plus, Mount Hermon part 1

Here I am, home again with a full plate and stuff spilling from the plate onto the table. We went to Austin for our anniversary this weekend. I bought a shirt (besides a pair of cute sandals, but that's not important to this post) that seems fitting right now. "Mrs. Incredible...Stretched to My Limits." A book due in about seven weeks with hmmm chapters left to go. I owe critiques to friends. I need to find mentors for writers and put people in critique groups. Oh, and shuttle kids places. My cousin-in-law, I've just found out, is an aspiring children's author who has some questions about writing so I'd like to help her find some resources. Tomorrow night, the local nursing home is hosting an appreciation dinner for its volunteers. I'm going. Not only do I volunteer, but I won't have to cook tomorrow night.

First, about Mount Hermon. If you want to write in the CBA market, go to Mount Hermon. The atmosphere is phenomenal. I had no pressure since I wasn't "trying" to meet anyone or sell anything, just go and have a good time. And I did. James Scott Bell's Fiction track was fabulous. If you didn't go, BUY the CDs. You won't be disappointed. He is an extremely gracious and entertaining speaker who packs a lot into his seminars.

One night at supper I sat at his table, and after we all introduced ourselves and what we wrote, someone asked him how he got through writer's block. He answered them, then looked at me (I guess he thought I was the junior published author).

"So, Lynette, what do you do about writer's block?"

Gulp. Who, me? I felt like the kid in A Christmas Story when Santa asked him what he wanted for Christmas. Doh--doh--um..."A football?"

"I do like you do," I squeaked out, unsure if anyone heard. All eyes were fixed on me. "I spend time with my family, read a good book, or even write something for fun." What was he thinking, asking me, who still feels like a wet-behind-the-ears newbie?

This is what I also should have added:
When in the throes of writer's block, sometimes you have to just push through and write, no matter how bad you think it stinks. And pray. You can go back later and fix things when the mood lifts. Most of the time for me, it's a mood thing. If it's not, I pray and see if there's something about the story I've gotten wrong.

Also, I look at writing as my part-time job. When you have a job, you don't have worker's block. You have to work. Or the pay doesn't come, or worse, you lose your job.

I learned, too, that no matter where we are in our writer's journey, we have something to offer another writer who might not be in the know. I sometimes take for granted things I've known for years, not realizing that to another it might be a startling new revelation. And then, I realize how much I have yet to learn.

More on Mount Hermon reflections another time...gotta finish chapter hmmm...

Gramps

Armand William Gagnon, 1920-2006

I was going to eventually post about my Mount Hermon experience, but I haven't been home 24 hours and I'm already planning to jet out again. This time, to the East Coast. To Boston.

Gramps passed away today, suddenly. He was 85. When I was little, he was tall and had the largest nose I'd ever seen. Shaggy brows and deepseat brown eyes, with a voice that could rattle the windows. And did, when he laughed. A cribbage fanatic, he tried to teach me. Once. I can still smell the sweet tang of his pipe in their den.

Gramps knew the value of hard work since the age of 12 when his father died. I never was quite sure about his formal education, but he was one of those people who knew a bit of everything about everything, combined with a generous heap of common sense. That propelled him to be a life insurance salesman for many years, and he planned well for his and Gram's future.

They spent a long retirement together, with Gram his only concern after she had a stroke nearly two years ago. But today, that ended. And it turned out he was in far worse shape than he would let on, even worse than her.

Gram is alone tonight after being married 60+ years. Not in an empty house. Two of her sons are there, plus the other two on their way. I expect I'll see them all soon. I'm still making plans. Part of me does not want to go. Part of me knows I must.

Do you know the way to San Jose...

...bump-ba-ba-bah-bum-bum...
Okay, I couldn't resist.

I'm typing this way too late, but had to slip a post in before I head out. I'm so glad I have such a cool family. Don't get me wrong, I'll miss them terribly but I'm grateful they let me pursue my dream, which is starting to have glimmers of reality in it.

Writers conferences can be funny things. But this one won't be stress-filled. I'm not trying to sell anything or get signed by an agent. I just want to learn and hang out with my writer friends.

I've never been to California, either, so that's pretty cool.

Sometimes the best part about leaving is coming home again. Maybe that's why my stomach's felt ishy off and on all day today. I'm going to pray tonight for a good sleep and I'll be rarin' to fly out in the morning.

Sneak Peek at Latest Cover!

What a gorgeous cover. It amazes me how the design crew can pull exactly the image I imagined. This reminds me of a quiet afternoon, watching the bayou water drift by, covering its secrets... Check out the cover for Bayou Brides. I've tried uploading the jpeg but for some reason Blogger won't cooperate. The copyeditor is going through the anthology now, and I'm looking forward to hearing what she has to say.

That, as I put the finishing touches on Reuben's Atonement, to be released in December in the anthology Brothers of the Outlaw Trail.

Oh, and there's the other matter of finishing A Suspicion of Strawberries, due June 15th.

No one mentioned to me about the juggling a writer must do. Old projects, new projects, future projects. Okay, maybe someone did mention that part about juggling. It sure is different when you try it, though.

One thing I have learned in the process of "becoming published" is that from the time I sign the contract, it's not about me or what I want for the story. There's a whole list of people involved in a book from acquisitions, to editing, to marketing. Again, like the juggling part, I knew that. But I didn't really know it.

Off to la-la land for some sleep now...

How I Spent My Spring Break (sort of)

There are some things better left unknown.

The picture of the hotel looks pretty ordinary. That's after an extensive renovation. If you look closely, some of the windows have iron bars.

Yep. Built in 1879, this served as the Bexar County Jail in San Antonio until the 1960's. We thought it would be the ideal quirky place to spend our spring break weekend. It was! Spacious room, high ceilings, original 19th century windows (no bars). A pool, hot tub, and complimentary breakfast were great touches. Across the street catty-corner from the hotel, a building still proclaimed "Cabs & Horses" and "Livery Stable."

But we found out during our last night that the jail used to perform the executions by hanging on the third floor. The bodies would drop down to the second floor, where they would then go down a chute to the first floor, to the outside. Ain't that jest a smidge beyond quirky?

Hannah freaked a bit when she heard, since the vending machines were on the third floor and she'd used the workout room on the third floor. I comforted her.


"Don't worry. Our room is on the fourth floor."

Despite its past, I'd stay here again. Only four blocks from the Riverwalk and one block from Market Square. And cheap parking.

Before spring break, I received the galleys for Heart's Refuge. I've been busy with life away from cyberworld, so I'll share more about galleys later.

In The Trenches

Progress on Reuben's Atonement:

9,155 / 18,000 (50.9%)

April first looms before me. Right now, I'm watching this intricate dance between my reformed outlaw Reuben and Charlotte, his long-ago love. I had hit a block with their story, even though I already had a summary written. I broke through when I realized one thing.

The bulk of their conflict was internal, and not external. I realized I had to cause more external problems for them as well, besides the obvious. Reuben's past.

So I threw a wrench of suspicion into the mix. What if...Reuben's really not reformed? That would be almost worse for Charlotte than seeing him ride off again. I turned her other would-be suitor into more of a villain as well, planting doubt inside her head.

I still have a lot of work to do before I submit this story. There've been times I was convinced the thing was a bunch of drivel, and then they'd realize I can't write. Gasp!

Reuben and Charlotte will likely travel with me to San Antonio. My husband and I are taking the kids. I hadn't planned on my conflicted couple coming along. But that's fine by me.

Building The Christian Family You Never Had

Where no one has gone before...at least not in our family!

Today I'm talking with Mary DeMuth, author of Building the Christian Family You Never Had: A Practical Guide for Pioneer Parents. Mary's book is available now through all major on-line booksellers, and I'm sure your local bookstore would be happy to order you a copy.

I'm not one to jump into the latest self-help books or parenting fads, but when I first heard the title of Mary's book, it intrigued me.

If you've visited my blog, I talk not only about faith and writing, but my life as a thirtysomething wife and mom. You've heard of my adventures with the teenagers, and at this oh-so-tricky age I not only want to parent them right, but parent them better. I know my parents made compromises along the way. Maybe they did the best they knew how, but I have a running joke that my family puts the "fun" in dysfunctional. I don't think I'm doomed to repeating my parents' past mistakes. But I'm a believer in seeking wisdom, and I know this is one gift I'll receive.

Now for my chat with Mary:

Tell us about your background, Mary. What inspired you to write this book?
I was tired of parenting books written by experts who didn’t seem to understand someone like me—a mom who didn’t grow up in a Christian home. I wanted to offer other pioneer parents hope that they could build a new type of family even if they had no example growing up.

Pioneer parenting. What is it, exactly? I'm sure you've been asked this question already, but I won't assume everyone knows what you mean by a pioneer parent.
A pioneer parent is someone who doesn’t want to duplicate the home he was raised in. It’s a first generation Christian who longs to create a faith-based home even though a home like that was not modeled.

We've got Dr. Dobson, Dr. Phil, Dr. Kevin Leman, and others who've written parenting books and built entire careers on family life. What makes your book different from other parenting books on the market?
I admire all those guys, so I’m not saying my approach is better. I’m just a mom who has struggled. I don’t have a PhD in child psychology. I have simply clung to Jesus through the process of parenting and allowed Him to heal me from a very difficult past. So the book is unique because it’s about parenting from the inside out. What is inside us is what flows out of us as parents. We can decorate the exterior of our parenting with all sorts of methods, but it will mean little if our inside is still suffering from the past.


What would you say to the Pioneer Mama who's standing in the bookstore or looking at an online bookstore for answers, as her heart breaks for her kids and she feels inadequate? Why would your book be important for her?
Because she will know she is not alone. And she will hear from someone who’s walked that path of inadequacy. One thing I celebrate in the book is that pioneer parents actually have an advantage in that they are well aware of their own need for help. And that’s the place where Jesus loves to come in and be strong. So, our weakness is actually a stage for Jesus to dance His power through us.


Here's the billion-dollar question. How did you figure out what a Christian family should look like? What's the dream, and what can we do to make it a reality?
I haven’t figured that out yet. I think it looks different in every home. But I can say this: a genuinely Christian family is authentic. It’s not that we are trying to “look” Christian by adhering to someone else’s standard. A Christian home is a place where our children can be real, where grace is more than just a prayer we pray before meals, where parents live out the Christian life in reality. I’ve known too many families where the parents exude a sort of control over their children to try to make them look like the perfect Christian family, while sweeping away all the muck under the rug.

The Christian life is not easy. We do our children a disservice if we portray it that way, or if we spin our wheels trying to look a certain way when our hearts don’t feel that way. To make a home like this a reality, it’s vitally important that parents model humility and forgiveness. You will do more for your children by apologizing and asking forgiveness than trying to make them appear a certain way. A Christian family follows Jesus. And Jesus was humble and approachable and full of grace.


This is more of a personal question from me, since I know in a few years my teenagers will be spreading their wings. I've watched my friends' children "grow up in church," only to see their young adult lives differ very little from their unchurched counterparts--cohabitation outside marriage, unwed pregnancies, harmful habits and addictions, living emotionally bankrupt lives. Why do you think this happens? (I'd like to know, because I sure want my kids to live abundant lives!)
This relates to the question before. Children can spot a fake a mile away. If their parents are saying all sorts of nice churchy words in public but are yelling and screaming behind closed doors, children will hear the yells over the churchy words. One reason (and there are many other reasons) children rebel is that they don’t see authentic Christianity modeled. They don’t see parents voice struggles or work through difficult faith issues, so when one faces a teen, it’s easier to rebel and discount it than see value in the struggle.


What can we pioneer parents do to protect our children as we interact with other family members who aren't Christians? Obviously, they're family, and we shouldn't feel that family might "contaminate" us.
If at all possible, do everything you can to preserve the relationship with those family members. Don’t judge non-Christian family members. If, for instance, an aunt is living with her boyfriend, have your children pray for her—but don’t necessarily forbid your children to see her because she’s not making Christian choices. However, there are instances where you need to protect your children—like if a family member drives drunk or is a known sexual abuser. In that case, by all means, separate your children from the family member.


Give me seven adjectives that describe Building the Christian Family You Never Had.
Honest
Painful
Hopeful
Instructive
Healing
Unique
Comforting

Thanks, Mary for stopping by Slices of Life. If you want to know more about Mary DeMuth and her books, check out Relevantblog and RelevantProse.

Evan Lysacek, My Hero!

Evan Lysacek lived in Johnny Weir's figure skating shadow prior to these Olympics. All we heard was "Weir-Weir-Weir." But did you notice who came from TENTH place after the men's short program to place FOURTH? In a brief Disney movie moment, I wanted him to medal, but that didn't happen.

I have to say I felt sorry for Lysacek the other night while watching the men's short program. (I felt sorry for myself when I learned he was born when I graduated high school in June 1985, but that has absolutely nothing to do with my post.)

He missed some jumps. He fell. He didn't look like a champion. And when you're out there, there's no second chances to do it over. Someone said Weir was the U.S.'s only hope of a men's skating medal.

But what's a medal now? Endorsements, of course. There's a lot to be said for winning first place. Or second, or third. Nobody remembers fourth, but in this case I do.

Lysacek was the one who overcame the mental challenge of being a flop the first time. He'd gotten sick in the meantime, had an IV going because of dehydration. Then with the long program coming up, he pulled out the stops and was one of the best performers of the night. Enough to move from tenth to fourth, and pass up the golden boy who wasn't.

His Olympics was more than medaling. It was about overcoming, not other skaters, but his own obstacles from within. Way to go! Lysacek is my Olympic hero.

A Suspicion of Strawberries

I just got a contract for my cozy mystery, A Suspicion of Strawberries, to be released by Spyglass Lane Mysteries in the spring 2007. My book is set in the fictitious town of Greenburg, Tennessee. Andromeda Clark has a homemade soap shop, her latest in a long string of homespun craft businesses. When one of her customers dies from an allergic reaction to Andi's facial scrub, Andi sets out to prove the death was no accident. It was murder.

Spyglass Lane is a new book club of Barbour Publishing starting late this year, or early in 2007. I'm excited to be in on the ground floor of this new venture. If you like Agatha Christie, the Cat Who books, or shows like Diagnosis, Murder or Murder, She Wrote, I bet you'll enjoy these stories.

Strawberries has a southern tang with a commitment-phobic heroine whose truck driver boyfriend is getting a hankering to settle down, once and for all, while Andi has her business crisis and tries to hunt down a murderer.

And if all goes well, you'll get to see more of Andi Clark and her life in Greenburg.

Clicking "Send"

just shot off through cyberworld to the editor's desk. I still am not sure which is harder, sending off and unsold proposal or sending off a finished product that's been purchased. It's at times like these, when I click the "send" button, that I feel the weight of the publisher's investment. I am coming to grips with the fact that there's always going to be better writers than me, unpublished writers, and all I can do is work on my own writing skills. Hey, I've been there, reading someone's work and thinking a bit smugly, "I can write better than that." Now the shoe's on the other foot and I find it's uncomfortable. Yet there's nothing I can do about opinions, except write the best story I can and keep working.

Tonight as I've worked, however, I found many pet words. I should buy them all collars and leashes and cute little crates so they don't mess on the floor and sleep on the furniture.

But.
Now.
Still.
Only.
More.
Few.
Little.
Once.
Just.

I could go on, but you get the picture. What I watch for is repetitions that might catch someone else's eye. There's nothing wrong with using any of those words, but can't you tell when there's too much ginger in the pumpkin pie? Or I should choose a boring flavor. One time I put sage in my homemade meat stuffing, and I could tell the sage was a bit stale. The stuffing didn't taste right. But I digress. The same novella whose ending made me sniffle also had plenty of stale words inside. Interesting.

Now that I've made myself a bit hungry and it's midnight here, I think I'll sail off to bed.

And dream of my next project. Night-o!

Cryin' Like Joan Wilder

One of my favorite writer movies is Romancing the Stone. I'm sure you remember when Joan Wilder is sitting at her typewriter (!) and finishes her book? Well, she was sobbing. I'm bawling too right now.

Joie de Vivre is done. For now, at least.

When I finished the epilogue and skimmed it, the tears came. Only if you are a writer will you understand this, the feeling that it's wrapped up and over. The first draft only comes once, with its freshness of ideas and characters springing to life as the cursor skims across the computer screen.

Oui, Edouard found Josee, and together they fought off the gator who did not like the pirogue coming so close to him. I will miss them, in a strange way. Like I said, if you are a writer you will understand.

I will pay dearly in the morning. It's 1:00 a.m. here and I just shipped off chapter 9 to my critique partner in South Africa, where she's probably getting her brood off to school.

I already went to Christianbook.com, where Bayou Brides is listed already--no cover yet--and its release date of Sept. 1, 2006 is there for all to see. I'm picturing the cover in my head. A line of cypress trees, dripping with Spanish moss. A tiny bayou cabin underneath their canopy of green. A beautiful brown bayou flowing past.

So I'll turn in for now, and bask in this glow of the first draft, the draft from my heart. My editor hat will go on my head starting tomorrow, which isn't nearly as emotional but very necessary.

Thanks, Lord, for making me creative. You are my best reader and fairest critic. Merci.

Completion, not perfection

Novella Progress

15,612 / 18,000 (86.7%)

I am almost done, and I can feel it happening already, like when you know you're car's going to stall. Josee is still lost on the flooded bayou in a storm. She's found a pirogue and now is lying there, shivering in the dark. Edouard still cannot find her and is a bit ticked off at le Bon Dieu at the moment. Their issues are coming to a head. And I'm trying to shut the thing down. I'm not worried. I'll get there. I know it's important to push through to the end, then edit later. Completion, not perfection.

One exciting bit of news: I've just submitted a proposal to Spyglass Lane Mysteries for my book A Suspicion of Strawberries, a cozy mystery with a southern chick lit tang. When amateur sleuth Andromedra (Andi) Clark dropped into my head, her story followed. Rarely has my keyboard burned with the fury of my typing, a combination of fun and hard work. Perhaps cozies are my thing, allowing me to use my odd sense of humor and create a puzzle for readers at the same time. We'll see. I sure hope so.

Coming soon: Q&A with Mary DeMuth, author of Building the Christian Family You Never Had. I'm not one to read lots of nonfiction, but in reading the overview and listening to Mary share on her blog and various web sites, I believe it's worth checking out. To use one of Mary's terms, it's relevant.

Back to work I go!

Web Of Lies...

Open the cover...if you dare!

Author Brandilyn Collins has done it again. She's woven a riveting tale where, of course, spiders figure prominently. If you get the creepy-crawlies, read this book anyway.

As a reader, I loved how Brandilyn brought Annie Kingston and Chelsea Adams together in one story. I enjoyed seeing Annie through Chelsea's eyes, where in the first three books we only see Annie's view of herself. Brandilyn also kept me questioning the possibilities that a suspense reader loves to guess at--Who's causing the trouble? Why? How? What's next? While the noose got tighter and tighter around Annie, my nails got shorter and shorter. I prided myself on guessing one of the story lines, but only one. The others snuck up on me. I can say this much: Never assume everything is as it seems. Never think you have it figured out. It's quite a tangled web.

As a writer, I feel like I'm going to B.C. Writers' University whenever I read one of her books. The first time, I read for fun. Then I let the book sit a while, and go back with pencil and paper and outline the book (as much as my distractable mind will allow; I don't do longhand for very long). I figure somehow, her techniques will start sinking into this writer's subconscious and I'll start using them too, in my own way. Brandilyn makes the rollercoaster ride of her book seem like an effortless trip. But rollercoasters are designed very carefully, and that's why hers holds up so well.

Coming Up For Air

Novella Progress

9,434 / 18,000 (52.4%)

Well, neither the Redskins nor the Patriots are going to the Superbowl. That cuts my excitement factor wayyyy down for Superbowl Sunday. I hope at least the chili's good

Writing in a flurry, reading too. And flu season has arrived at the hospital, which means more work for us in Transcription. People, if you're sick, try to stay home. Don't share. Drink your fluids. Wash your hands with warm soapy water. Get enough sleep at night.

The novella is coming along, although this week I really want to plow through most of it so my reader and critique partner can both read the story. I'm working on other novella proposals. A few are in the research stage, and in the proposal stage. I'm working on a mystery. In short, I'm busy and loving it.

Hannah turned 14 today. Yummy food specially requested by her, and a party coming up on Friday night, which means giggling teenage girls overnight. Oh my.

I'll cut it short. My next post will be a review of Brandilyn Collins' latest suspense novel, Web of Lies. I am absolutely thrilled at where Brandliyn's career has gone. I first 'met' Brandilyn in 2000 through the then-named American Christian Romance Writers, when she visited my critique group and worked with me for a month. Her first book was due out. I had no idea then that she would become a household name in Christian suspense. She's a gem of a person and a true wordsmith, always seeking to improve her craft. The lady has a love affair with words, and you can tell through her stories. I'll save more for next time. Night-o!

New Year, New Stuff

Novella progress:

8,226 / 18,000 (45.7%)

8,226 / 20,000 (41.1%)

Instead of new stuff, I should say new habits.

I have encountered many people who are dissatisfied with aspects of our lives, and only a few have made the changes they so desperately wish to make. Why do we resolve, and then fail? Those of us who are believers, why do we still fail if we "have God"?

We complain about family. Complain about money. Complain about jobs. Complain about physical shortcomings (and I don't mean diseases). Many things have but one cure, but few of us actually find the cure. The cure is choice.

Free will. I thank God for free will. Without it, we'd be puppets on a string, or characters on a game board, like in Clash of the Titans. But many people blame God for what goes on in their lives, or if they decide not to believe in God's interest in their lives, it's because of the often-heard "If God loves us so much then, why--?" Or, some who choose not to believe resent the idea of having God stick His nose in their business. It sounds a bit wishy-washy. How can we say, "God, come to my rescue, but otherwise butt out?"

I have seen tragedy. I've seen a loving father and pastor, a well-respected man, ripped from his family in a horrible motorcycle accident. I still see the effects of that today in his widow's and children's lives. So I have asked "Why?"

At the brink of this new year, I'm reminded of free will. God's greatest gift to us (besides Jesus, of course). My prayer is that my free will bends to His, and that I will not raise my fist in anger or harden my heart in unbelief because He does not interfere with my poor choices. The world is full of billions of free wills treading on each other. Often, we're the brunt of others' poor choices.

This year in 2006, I pray to make better choices. There are many things which I cannot control, but I do have a choice. I can say, "God, what would You have me to do?" and then listen.

Made of Honor Blog Tour!

Some Serious Fun! -- Q&A with Mary Griffith and Dana Rose

This is a first here at Slices of Life--a guest. Or, I should say, two guests. Marilynn Griffith's book Made of Honor, released on December 27th. I've also asked Dana Rose, Mary's heroine from Made of Honor, to join us. Welcome, ladies!

MG: Hey Lynette! Dana and I are honored to be here. Hopefully we won’t bump heads too much.

DR: I hope not, girl. You’ve already bumped my head enough telling my story.

MG: Shhh. We’re guests here.

First, a question for Mary. I'd like to hear about your slogan on the cover… "life, faith, and getting it right." When did you discover this would be your focus?

MG: That’s Steeple Hill’s slogan actually. I love life, have faith, but seldom get it right. God does though.


Your book is filled with scents that bring many delightful, delicious moments. Does this come naturally in your writing? Where did the scents come from (besides the obvious fact that Dana is a scent diva)?

MG: I had asthma as a child so I couldn’t really sniff things like I wanted to. (I still can’t really). When I got married and started trying to be crafty and domestic (only the crafty part worked out) I started making soap and bath and body products. I could sniff all I wanted and it was big fun. Though the products were marked, I always had to explain the smell to people, so I guess some of it came from that.

Made of Honor is chock-full of laugh-out-loud moments, like Dana trying to stuff herself into size B nylons and avoid the horror of having naked legs at church. But I also found some Dana-isms in the book, little nuggets of wisdom that jumped out at me. Dana, I'd like to ask you about some of these moments. I hope you can share without telling too much of your story.

DR: (Looking down to check her legs) Well, I’m wearing off black queen hose today so I think I can handle your questions. I can look back now and laugh but those pantyhose were just torture.


"We were all a little crazy. Isn't anyone worth knowing?"
Dana, would you say that you and your sistahs and family put the "fun" in dysfunctional?

DR: We definitely do. Rochelle, Tracey and I all have our own brand of crazy, but we manage to stay friends somehow. I’ve finally accepted that normal only exists in fiction. (Not Marilynn’s of course)

MG: (shaking head) Dane, didn’t I tell you to hush? LOL


Back to you, Mary. Which character was the most fun to write? Who showed up first in this wild 'n crazy family?

MG: Dana came first actually, along with her mooching cousins and aunt. It was just a scene basically. Then came Rochelle and Tracey. Dana’s Messianic Jewish friend Austin and her nephew’s girlfriend Shemika came out of nowhere. Dana’s father and Adrian were both a joy to write as well.


Here's another Dana quote: "I tried not to be offended by his surprise, remembering what a pistol I'd been growing up. Judging from the way I was acting today, I still had a few bullets left in me. "
One of the delightful things about you, Dana, is that you're real. What would you suggest to someone who's wrestling between the urge to pour out grace or fire bullets?

DR: Go for the grace. Bullets mean blood (usually Christ’s to cover the wound) and leave behind a mess. There’ll be all that crying and praying either way, so why not cut to the chase and get the forgiving over with? That’s what I ask myself at any rate. I’m trying to do better about it.


"Maybe when these couples smelled my stuff, they'd catch a whiff of the smell that had filled my imagination growing up when tempers grew hot and patience grew thin. A scent that said to my mind, 'God is here… and He's got flowers.'" Could you comment about this? It's a beautiful thought that expresses Dana's passion.

MG: Dana doesn’t think she wants to be married, but she respects and wants people to be happy. Though her mother is dead, she tries to give to people the gifts she wanted to give her parents. Something sweet, something sacred.


"Today, I realized that no matter how close people are to one another, there's always a place--a secret place--that only God can see."
We have the ability to alternately wound and bless those we love, depending on what's inside us. Dana, how did you discover what was inside you?

DR: I’m still learning what’s inside me. Some of it is amazing and some isn’t so pretty. Often it takes me being wounded to recognize my own hurtful words or actions. Just as I open my mouth to say something, I hear a whisper in my heart saying,”It’s not so nice, is it?”


"I didn't know what to think of Trevor's presence. How could someone act such a fool and traipse up in church the next morning with a Bible and a smile?"
Okay, this is a heavy question for a chick-lit, but Dana, you went there and I'm there too. How do people do this, especially in the church?

DR: Oh, Lynette, now you realllllly read that book, didn’t you? I have no clue how folks live two lives. I guess I’ve lost my phony skills because I can’t pull it off. If I’m not right, I’m likely to let you know. People know better to ask “How are you this morning?” if they really don’t want an answer.


"I'd loved him all my life, but how could I consider being in love with him, devoting my emotion to someone else when I wasn't sure how to love myself? "
I loved Dana's frank honesty with herself. Loving yourself when you're supposed to be selfless. Mary, how does a girl do that?

MG: Whoa, Lynette, you’re pulling out the big guns! LOL It’s a hard thing. Christians are taught to die to self. Some of us take that a little farther and just…DIE. I know I did for a while. There has to be a balance between loving God and allowing God to love us. Love your neighbor as yourself is in the Bible too. Sometimes we forget that and aren’t able to love anybody.


"I'd forgiven Dahlia--again--that day at the shower, but somehow her wrong had grown wings from the altar where I'd left it and dropped disease all over my spirit."
"Getting it right" is a process. Thanks for the reminder!

DR: It’s a process indeed. In the movies, people hug and everything is all right, but in real life, sometimes things go up and down and around as the healing continues, even in the church. All scars itch sometimes.


Mary, thank you for dropping by. I hope this little visit with you and Dana will prompt readers to drop by their local bookstore or favorite shopping web site and order Made of Honor. Buy two. One for you, one for a girlfriend. This book is some serious fun. Check out Marilynn Griffith's web site at www.marilynngriffith.com.

MG: Lynette, thank you so much for having us and for reading Made of Honor. This interview was some serious fun!

DR: I’ll say. You really brought back the memories for me. Those days were something else! Blessings to you and all your girlfriends!

Novella Progress

5,920 / 18,000 (32.9%) or...

5,920 / 20,000 (29.6%)

Either way, so far so good. My heroine Josee is now reluctantly wed to her hero, Edouard. Well, he's not really her hero yet since she wasn't too cracked up on marrying him. But what's an orphan without a dowry to do in 1819 Louisiana? Josee thinks he's dark, mysterious and brooding. The poor guy's been through a lot, so I don't blame him. Here's hoping she'll get him to lighten up a little.

The Best Laid Plans

Getting Christmas right? How does someone actually do that? What is right, anyway?

I've been shopping this week for our big "Fezziwig's Bash" on Christmas Eve after the candlelight service, when CJ and I invite about 50 of our closest friends (!) over for an open house filled with goodies. After umpteen years, actually about 7 or 8, we've gotten the menu down to a science. Tonight, I prepared to start baking and saucing and dipping and marinating and meatballing and cupcaking. Riiiight.

I didn't buy cupcake liners. Scratch making the mini cherry cheesecakes tonight. And the cream cheese surprise cupcakes. I just knew we had those little papers, but nope.

I didn't buy stick margarine, either, to make the pecan sandy balls, nor the peanut butter balls. Couldn't do those tonight. I know I stood there in front of the margarine display and looked at the packages of Bluebonnet Light, but I guess they didn't make it into my cart.

Tonight I figured I could at least do some almond bark covered pretzels. The first batch is now hardening on the wax paper. Then...um...something happened to my almond bark on the double boiler. It turned into the consistency of cake frosting, not the gooey liquid that I can dip the pretzels in. I ended up pitching the lump, along with a few pretzels, into the trash.

So...back to the store tomorrow I go. My choice. We were going anyway.

How we celebrate is all about choices. I love traditions. But I don't love the expectations that come with them sometimes. We can expect situations, recipes, and people to behave in certain ways. When they don't, well, at the very least it involves extra trips to crowded stores or at the worst, hurt feelings and disappointment.

I know several things for certain.
I know I'm blessed.
I know my kids will love what we bought them.
I know our family will eat well.
I know what Christmas means.

As far as how the extended family will behave, um, I don't know. But I won't pin my Christmas expectations on people who might not perform how I think they should.

I could hope that:
My sister-in-law won't have her freeloading friend come with five children.
My mother-in-law won't talk all the way through a movie, and then keep asking questions about what's going on.
My estranged brother-in-law and his wife won't try to cause a ruckus or make racial comments about my niece and nephews (part Hispanic).
My father-in-law won't open beer around said estranged alcoholic brother-in-law.
My other prodigal brother-in-law won't bring his ex-girlfriend (who he says he's still in love with even though she ran off with a friend of theirs and cleaned out their apartment).

Oh, I should just say family sometimes puts the "fun" in dysfunctional. All I can do is pray, grace, Lord, grace.

Whatever you do, enjoy it, go with the flow, and don't pin your hopes on doing Christmas right. Just remember why you're doing it.

The Electric Manger (Part 2)

Here it is...

The Electric Manger

You can see the glow from our yard at the end of the block. Clark Griswold has nothing on my honey. This year we bought two of those giant blow-up globes with the fake snow. Two. I keep telling my daughter, "less is more" when it comes to things like makeup. She actually does very well. Yet, now I know where she gets it from. CJ added the globes to the display of four spiral trees, two light-up metal deer (one has a red nose), and various plastic Santas. Plus there's multicolor icicle lights on the house, lights around the windows, and two trees in the front windows.

Last night CJ wrangled the 4-foot high plastic Nativity scene figures from the shed and got them set up in the front yard. Yes, Christ is still in Christmas, even in our front yard.

So where do Jesus, Mary & Joseph end up? On our wooden yard swing. The wise men, shepherd, sheep, donkey, and camel are all clustered on the ground facing the swing.

I asked CJ if he was going to put the spotlight in front of the display.

"No, I'm hanging twinkle snowflake lights all over the top of the swing."

The lights aren't quite as bright as the Vegas strip, but they're twinkling for sure. You can't miss 'em. I went outside and couldn't help but crack up at the sight of the flashing lights over the nativity scene.

"What's so funny? It's supposed to be the starlit night when Jesus was born."

And so The Electric Manger glows in our yard.

Remember to shine, even if it's with twinkling snowflake lights.
Merry Christmas!