Author Archive

Posted on February 10, 2012 - by Kav

God is Good

 I commute between two schools over my lunch hour every day. It’s a bit of a hike to the bus stop, then a quick ride and another, longer hike to the second school. Surprisingly that short bus ride shaves off about 45 minutes of walking time so I am grateful for the 168. I have a friendly bus driver and intriguing fellow passengers so I actually enjoy my mid-day commute.

Two of the passengers that I see on a regular basis are an elderly Japanese couple with limited English. For some unknown reason we connected the first time I stepped onto the bus. Their faces wreathed in welcoming smiles and they bowed their heads in greeting. I smiled and bowed in return and we continued that ritual for a few weeks.

I walk with a cane and I found it ironic and somewhat embarrassing, that this elderly couple would defer to me as we got off the bus at the same stop nearly every day. The man would steady my arm as I made the descent, the woman would watch carefully to make sure that I had secure footing. “Okay?” she would ask. When I nodded and smiled, she’d beam back and then wave the bus on with a hearty “Okay!” They would walk on ahead of me, but frequently turn back to assess my progress. If I was slower than usual, they’d call out, “Okay?” and I would wave them on through a grimacing smile. “Okay!” though it wasn’t. Why were these elderly people marching way ahead of me at a brisk pace, backpacks swinging jauntily when I was decades younger? I used to grumble to God about that, though I couldn’t begrudge them their health and vitality.

As the weeks passed we learned a bit about each other. They were taking English classes three mornings a week. “I practice for you?” The husband asked about a month into our acquaintance, clearly feeling he had mastered enough vocabulary to brave a conversation. I learned they had moved to Canada from Japan and were living with their grandson  and his family. Through contorted mime I managed to make them understand that I worked in a school. The man lit up. “I teach! “ He said, thumping his chest. “Before…” he broke off, clearly at a loss for words. “Before you retired,” I finished, smiling and nodding in understanding.  What I wouldn’t give to be able to rid myself of the long commutes. I’d never thought of retiring before. But now I seem to be dreaming of the day.

Once they found out I worked in a school they treated me like a visiting dignitary. The smiles grew wider, the bows deeper and they were ever considerate of my disability. I quite basked in the attention, though it lasted only a few short minutes a few days a week.

The weeks turned into months and we eased into pleasant exchanges about the unpredictability of the weather. Sometimes, like a true Canadian, I could get quite passionate about the topic. Negatively passionate. The woman would cluck in sympathy, understanding the precariousness of icy sidewalks which had to be navigated with a cane, but her husband would smile gently. “It’s okay,” he’d say, as if there were more important things to worry about in this world then the state of recent ice formations on city streets. Of course he was right.

 Recently there’s been a delightful warmth to the air, the sun is shining more and the heat radiating from it seems hotter than a month ago. Is that possible? I tried discussing that with my friends, but I think it was beyond their comprehension. Sun and warm, they got though. “You see?” the elderly gentleman beamed. “It’s okay.” He looked up at the sun as his wife took my arm and eased me over an icy patch. Once I was settled on the cement sidewalk, wet with water not ice we performed our “Okay? Okay!” ritual before they turned to walk on ahead but this time the man turned and saluted me. “See?” he said, pointing to the sky. “Okay! God is good.”

It was the first time he had mentioned God and it startled me. I didn’t know their religion. I assumed they weren’t Christian – likely Buddhist and it gave me a bit of a chuckle to think that I was conceited enough to imagine that Christians had cornered the market on the concept of God being good. But I reflected on the truth of that statement the rest of the walk to school, and since then, ‘God is good’ has become a kind of mantra for me – even though at times I nearly snarl it.

 One day I ran into the bus driver on the way home from work and we struck up a conversation that led to my intriguing Japanese friends.

 “You know about their history, right?” the driver asked even though he knew I didn’t – eager to let me in on some friendly gossip

 He’d heard the story first hand from the grandson who plotted out the bus route his grandparents would take to school each morning. As luck would have it, the 168 runs a circular route so the same bus and driver would pick them up from both home and, several hours later, school. The grandson was understandably concerned about his grandparents setting out on their own in a foreign country with hardly a word of English between them. He appealed to the driver to watch out for them and the driver agreed. I wondered aloud what could have prompted them to make such a major move at this late stage in their life.

The driver looked at me askance. “That old couple – they lost everything in the tsunami. They didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

 Love beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth…” 1 Cor. 13:7,8

 “God is good,” that poor old man said in order to comfort me. To bring me hope, to encourage me to bear up and endure for the better days that would surely come ahead. That thought still sends chills down my spine. I think of my petty complaints compared to what they have endured and am humbled by the simple faith of a man who can still see the goodness of God’s never-failing love in the shining warmth of the sun.

Posted on January 27, 2012 - by Kav

More Love and Laughter from N.Y. Times Bestselling Author

Margaret Brownley

 I ‘discovered’ Margaret Brownley when I picked up a copy of A Lady Like Sarah at my Christian bookstore. I took a gamble and won. What a gem of a book and I eagerly awaited the next two in the series. Now I hear she is embarking on another series, releasing in March and I’m tickled to death to be able to introduce y’all to one of my favourite authors. So without further ado, here’s the interview.

 Think back to when you were 11 years old. What did you think your future would hold? Any truth to your childhood prophecies?

 First, thank you for letting me visit today.  To answer your question: Oddly enough I wrote my first novel when I was eleven years old and in fifth grade. Talk about childhood prophecies.  The book was a mystery that I didn’t know how to end. Still don’t.

 That’s great! I wrote my first book when I was eleven too! As I recall it involved aliens and a mystery and there might have been a bit of time travel in there as well. Clear to see why you’re the published author!

 When you embark on a new writing project what comes first — characters or plot?

 It’s different with each book.  Sometimes characters spring up and lead the way. At other times I have to chase after them with a hatchet.

 BTW: The idea for Brides of Last Chance Ranch series came to me after reading an old newspaper article in the New York Times dated 1891. A group of fifty ladies of the First Church of Millford formed a society of old maids in 1861. Each member vowed she would not marry.  Each woman paid five dollars on admission with the principal going to the one who remained unmarried the longest.  Thirty years later all but fifteen of the original had married. I was never able to find out who won the prize—and sincerely hope no one had— but the concept intrigued me and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

 I love when real life inspires fiction! A church I went to a while back had a group of elderly unmarried women, though I’m not sure they took a vow! They called themselves The Unclaimed Treasures. How cute is that?!

 You are known for your spunky heroines who dance to a different drummer. Do you have any tips you can share with hopeful writers about how to flesh out memorable characters?

 For me it’s all about voice.  If a character isn’t waking me up in the middle of the night to chat than I know he or she isn’t fully developed.  I start by having each character say the same sentence in their own unique way.

 In Dawn Comes Early I asked my characters to introduce themselves.   My heroine Kate Tenney said “How do you do.”   The hero said, “Howdy ma’am.”   That’s when I knew that Kate was college educated and Luke was not.  In fact he’s a blacksmith with little formal education. This makes for an interesting conflict between them.  Half the time he doesn’t even know what she’s talking about. 

 Note to self: it’s okay to talk to characters in the middle of the night.Phew! Love how they become such a part of you. That really reflects in your writing.

 I love all the historical details you add to your books — from the chapter quotes to stories seeped in history. I feel transported back in time when I’m ‘reading Brownley’. Are you a history buff with tons of information at your fingertips or do you have to work at your research. You certainly make it seem easy!

 At last count I had 1500 research books in my library and I’m always on the lookout for interesting tidbits and unusual facts.  Since the heroine in Dawn Comes Early is a dime novelist I read a bunch of them.  When things like “Curses, foiled again” started popping out of my mouth I knew it was time to stop.  

 The trick is to slip historical facts into the story naturally as part of dialogue or action and not narrative.  Historical details are best served in little doses.

  1500 hundred books! A woman after my own heart (says the librarian who collects books the way other women collect shoes.)  What aspect of being a published writer surprised you the most?

 After having published more than twenty-five books the thing that surprises me the most is that I’m not rich. 

 If you had one piece of advice to pass on to an aspiring writer, what would it be?

 Enjoy the ride.  Unpublished writers have a luxury not accorded those of us published; you can spend as much time as necessary writing the book and giving it all the loving care it needs. The rest of us have deadlines to meet. 

 Sage advice that puts a whole new perspective on playing the waiting game. Savor the moment. Thanks for that!  Can you tell us a bit about your new book coming out in March?

 Dawn Comes Early

 Looking for woman

of good character and pleasant disposition

willing to learn the ranching business in Arizona Territory.

 Must be single and prepared to remain so

now and forever more.

 Will be given ownership of ranch.

                                    –Eleanor Walker

 Her latest dime novel banned, twenty-nine-year old KATE TENNEY finds herself without a publisher or other means of support. An advertisement for a woman willing to learn the ranching business seems like the perfect solution for a displaced western writer who has no intention of getting married—ever. 

 Trouble begins the moment she steps foot in Arizona Territory. The west is nothing like she wrote about in her books. Not only does she have to deal with a hard-nosed ranch owner, and nefarious outlaw, but a traitorous heart.  Deserted as a child by her father, grandfather and others—even God— Kate does not trust men and has no intention of falling for LUKE ADAM’S charm.  She’s determined to learn the ranching business and prove to the doubting ranch owner that she’s up to the task—if it kills her. Her faith tested by the harsh realities of the desert, Kate battles to hold on to the one thing that promises permanence—land.    

 If only she could stay away from a certain handsome blacksmith and his two matchmaking aunts.

 Okay – I’m hooked and already stomping at the bit for a chance to read another Brownley gem and I bet our blog readers are too. So, if you would like a chance at winning a copy of Dawn Comes Early, please leave a comment below. Be sure to include your email address so I can reach you if you win. But remember to disguise it from spammers by using AT and DOT instead of @ and . Winner will be announced and contacted on Sunday January 29^th. Oh – and since the book doesn’t release until March, your copy will be pre-ordered and shipped when ready. Just think of the extra joy you’ll get anticipating its arrival!

 And if you would like learn more about Margaret Brownley and her books you can contact her here:

 www.margaretbrownley.com

 You can also find Margaret on Facebook and Twitter

Thanks for stopping by inspirationalmessages, Margaret! I’m glad we got to know you better!

Posted on January 13, 2012 - by Kav

Upcycle Your Writing

Have you heard about upcycling? It’s the new recycling. It was our grandparents way of life but after the Depression our affluent lifestyle created a throw-away society. Now we’ve come full cycle. We want to reuse and repurpose things just like our grandparents did. Waste not want not for the environment and our pocketbooks. What does this have to do with writing, you ask?  I can answer that question in one word:

Organization.

Plain and simple. Can a writer live in chaos? Not for long — I know, I’ve tried. With my life a blur of work and transport to and from my housekeeping skills slid just a bit over the autumn months. Okay, alot! And believe it or not, I found my ability to hold a thought long enough to write it down was compromised by my chaotic surroundings. I madly scribbled clever quips and heart-rending prose on anything at hand — strips of toilet paper, napkins, the grocery receipt. At least I was writing, I reasoned, until my break at Christmas arrived and I tried to piece together a story from the pile of scraps. That’s when I knew I needed an intervention. A New Year’s Intervention.

It happens the last week of every year. I get the hankering to spruce up and clean up and throw out and just plain organize myself from stem to stern. This year when the urge hit I decided to throw in an extra challenge. Organize without buying anything new. I had to use what I had around the house and it turned into a very satisfying upcycling event. take a peek!

Okay — this is sheer brilliance (and no, it isn’t an original idea. I read it in a magazine years ago. I had this big old cookie pan — so large in fact, that it wouldn’t fit in my teensy oven — added an extra cookie cooling wire rack and voila, the perfect boot tray. The wire rack keeps the boots raised up off the tray so the soles actually have a chance to dry, which means that I don’t mess up the floor when it’s time to put my boots on.  It’s small things like this that make my heart sing.

How about this for a new desk? Take two stools gathering dust in the basement, add the middle section of my dining room table (which I only use about once a year) and voila, a simple, functional desktop for my laptop. And bonus — I even had two pieces of shelving that fit across the bottom rungs of the stool. And notice the gnome. Every computer needs one.

Is it a dish drainer or an office organizer? You be the judge!

Found on the side of the curb on garbage day, this little bookcase wasn’t worth the rusty nails barely keeping it together. With a little hammer finesse and some paint it came back to it’s glory and holds my overflow of inspirational fiction. And looks — there’s still room to grow!!!!!

So, do you have any upcycling wonders to share?

 

Posted on December 30, 2011 - by Kav

Christmas Has Gone to the Dogs

So I was sick for Christmas this year. Seriously, revoltingly, pathetically sick. Started on the Tuesday before Christmas and I haven’t shaken it yet! Of course that put a major cramp in my holiday decorating style and I fretted about what I would do for this open house blog set. I was afraid y’all would think I was Scrooge and full of bah, humbug! No tree, no presents, no Christmas pudding or favourite baked goodies. Nope. Just oatmeal and toast for this sickie.

I did manage to get a few things up before I got sick though. Like my favourite star wreath. I love the folksy feel of it.

 

And my winter birdie buddies. This is my newest one. Isn’t he the cutest thing in that red hat?!

 

But I have to confess that this Winter Welcome Star banner was still up from last year.

 

So was my glass angel and star collection. They’re just too pretty to put away, don’t you think?

At the beginning of December my daughter snuck into my house and ‘planted’ a whimsical Christmas tree in my bedroom so I guess I kind of had a tree.

These are Patience Brewster Krinkle ornaments. Aren’t they fun?

 

Not to be outdone, my dog, Simba brought his own version of Christmas cheer by creating his own canine version of the nativity. Take a look:

A sheep.

A shepherd

Mother Mary

Her babe wrapped in swaddling clothes

And, of course, a wiseman.

Wasn’t he a trooper to do all that to cheer me up? Mind you, there was no convincing him that reindeer didn’t belong in the nativity line up! Doesn’t he make a regal reindeer though? Thanks for letting me share my crazy Christmas with you!

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on December 16, 2011 - by Kav

Pearls of Wisdom

It’s been a difficult fall for me. Lots of changes and challenges and tons of issues to deal with. I felt like I was being pulled and stretched and pummeled in a hundred different directions. No area of my life was left untouched by stress and anxiety. I was in over my head and feeling overwhelmed…until I got the strand of pearls.

Linda, a friend of mine, knew about some of the challenges I’ve been facing. She’s a colleague – another school librarian – and she has been coaching me on some very difficult issues I’ve been having at one of my schools.

Linda is a classy lady, close to retirement and she knows just the right way to put a spin on the most negative circumstances. Everyone who knows Linda, knows about her penchant for pearls. She maintains that pearls go with anything, including jeans and a t-shirt. Linda loves their timeless quality and she loves the sentiment behind each strand of pearls she owns but most of all, she loves the mind-frame pearls put her in.

“You have to act like a lady when you’re wearing pearls.”

So, Linda wears them a lot – especially on days she knows she’s falling short on patience. Or if she’s going to be dealing with something difficult. Or maybe cross paths with a challenging personality. Linda faces life head on with a strand of pearls clasped around her neck because she knows they’ll compel her to act the part of a lady. And it works – I challenge anyone to find a classier lady than Linda. Gracious, gentle, kind, empathetic – there’s an old-world charm about her demeanor that is almost lost in women of a younger generation.

I saw Linda a week ago, at my school, along with several other librarians from my school board. We were participating in a mentorship program. At the conclusion of our visit, Linda turned to me and declared with feeling, “You need pearls.” We all laughed. The translation of her statement was clear. I might just be tempted to engage in some very unladylike behavior if I didn’t have a set of pearls to reign me in. But we knew she was serious by the way she fingered the pearls on her own necklace – like they were beads on a rosary. Linda only does that when she is worked up over something and at risk of venting. The camaraderie made me feel good and the fact that they recognized my challenges as real and frustrating was a boon to my flagging ego.

A week went by and that mentorship meeting and everyone’s supporting comments had become a fading memory when I got a surprise parcel in the school board courier mail. It was a thank you note from Linda for hosting the event – and it came complete with a strand of pearls.

Now I wear them to remind me that I need to conduct myself as a lady even in the face of the most trying circumstances. And you know what? It works! Though I don’t carry the pearls off with the same savoir-faire as my classy friend, I do find that they carry a gentle reminder that uplifts and calms when I am faced with challenging situations.

So, what does this have to do with Christmas? Not a whole lot unless you hop over to the Pearl Girls blog. Their motto is “encountering grit…experiencing grace”.

http://margaretmcsweeney.blogspot.com/

The Pearl Girls are counting down to the 25^th with their annual 12 Pearls of Christmas. Each day a different writer will share pearls of Christmas wisdom. These are beautiful and uplifting and faith-affirming testimonies of the power of God working in our lives – especially at Christmas time. I hope you’ll join them every day until Christmas. I can’t think of a better advent countdown, can you?

Posted on December 11, 2011 - by Kav

Ho! Ho! Ho!

The following story is based on a true story.

 

It was Christmas Eve and the bus was packed with holiday merrymakers. Raucous laughter punctuated the revelry and bespoke of the kind of Christmas cheer that could only come from a bottle. The bus driver bore the cheery chaos with benevolent forbearance, even donning a plush red Santa hat to the delight of his passengers.

The bus stopped and the doors opened, letting in a blast of cold air so that a young mother and child could scurry in. They paid their fair and then trudged to a side-facing seat at the front. The child was just past toddlerhood but hadn’t given up her thumb-sucking habit.  It was now firmly in place, fingers curled up around her little button nose as she gazed around the bus with cautious curiosity. It was evident she was tired and the stoop-shouldered droop of her mother’s posture suggested it had been a long day for them both. The little girl cuddled into her mother’s side, secure in the comforting embrace only a mother can give.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” A white-haired man with a cheery red nose bellowed with an intensity that sent the crowd into nervous chuckles. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Do you know what day it is little girl?”

The child’s gaze was solemn, her eyes wide and alert.

“I said…do you know what day it is?” When she didn’t reply, the old man cupped his hand around his mouth and in a mock stage whisper addressed the rest of the passengers on the bus. “The kid doesn’t know what day it is. Can you beat that? Guess we better give her a hint.” He immediately burst into a rousing chorus from Jingle Bells and some of his equally inebriated companions joined in.

The child scuttled closer to her mother as she sucked her thumb furiously.

“There you go – that’s your hint. Now do you know what day it is?”

Silence.

“All right, I’ll give you another clue. Ho! Ho! Ho! Someone special is coming tonight. Do you know who that is?”

The little girl squirmed into her mother’s lap, clearly uncomfortable over being the centre of such intense scrutiny as the entire busload of commuters watched the scene with rapt attention.

Another stage whisper from the elderly gentleman. “I don’t think she knows…now that’s a shame because if she doesn’t know about him, he’s not gonna come to her house.”

If the man thought this might elicit an animated reaction, he was destined for disappointment. The child seemed to wilt into her mother and she turned her face away from the curious stares.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” The man wouldn’t be dissuaded. “That’s a clue. Here’s another one. Here comes hmmmhmmm. Here comes hmmmhmmm, right down hmmmhmmm lane. Now do you know who I’m talking about?”

The child buried her face in the folds of her mother’s coat.

“Ah, come on now. You’re killing me here! Of course you know who is coming tonight. He’s the most famous man in the whole world. In history even. Everyone knows his name!” The more the man cajoled, the more withdrawn the child became until she had nearly crawled inside her mother’s coat.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” The man’s forceful guffaw had turned lack-luster. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Little girl, I’ll give you one last chance. Do you know who is coming tonight?”

The bell rang, signaling a request stop, and the mother gently lifted her daughter down from her lap. She tucked her hand (the non-thumb-sucking one) into her own and headed to the front door. The bus lurched to a stop and as the doors opened the old man lifted his hands in dismay.

“Ah, go on now. The kid doesn’t know what day it is. Can you believe that? She really doesn’t know!”

Heads shook, tongues clucked and murmurs abounded.

“She’s just shy.”

“Maybe they’re Jewish.”

“Ah, leave her alone, poor mite.”

The old man shook his head. “The kid doesn’t even know who’s coming tonight. What’s the world coming to?”

The mother stepped own off the bus and turned to lift her daughter onto the sidewalk but the child wrestled out of her grasp and marched back into the aisle. Her thumb popped out of her mouth as she stared down her well-meaning tormentor.

“I do too know who’s coming to tonight.” She glared at the old man and swept up the rest of the passengers in one scornful glance. “Jesus. That’s who.” And with the regal bearing of a princess she lifted her arms, allowing her mother to carry her down the steps and out of the suddenly silent bus.

I pray that we can keep the One whose birthday we celebrate at the heart of all our festivities this season.

 

Posted on December 2, 2011 - by Kav

Frehlicher Grischtdaag!

What? You didn’t know I could speak Pennsylvania Dutch? Ach! After all the Amish books I’ve read lately, it’s no wonder the dialect is rubbing off on me.

My fascination with the Amish grew from a book I read when I was ten — Plain Girl by Virginia Sorensen. Esther’s story totally enraptured me and I read it over and over and over again. It was that gut! And it was the only Amish book of my childhood! I was years into adulthood before I discovered the wealth of Amish bounty lining my bookstore shelves. So naturally, when you talk Christmas reads and throw in a few Amish ones, well I get all gegisch (silly). Here are my reviews of a few of my favourite new releases this season.

FISHER, SUZANNE WOODS

A LANCASTER COUNTY CHRISTMAS

Mattie Riehl is wrestling with infertility problems and her husband is at a loss as to how to help her. On Christmas Eve a confused young woman and her estranged husband find themselves stranded at the Riehl home during a winter storm. Both women are looking for a Christmas miracle and find them in unexpected places.

My Review:

A stirring story that all takes place in just a few days’ time but made an impact on both the characters and this reader. Expertly told from varying viewpoints, Fisher succeeded in drawing me in quickly and keeping a hold of my attention until the very last glorious page. There’s a timeless quality to this tale — filled with heartache and peppered with gentle humour. In fact, I was profoundly affected by Mattie’s epiphany towards the end of the book. My ‘aha’ moment paralleled hers. I love it when a book speaks to me like that. It’s a precious gift from author to reader.

Fisher has done an amazing job of conveying the spiritual magic that is Christmas. A definite must read.

Gray, Shelley Shepard

Christmas in Sugarcreek

Judith Graber has always been the obedient, dutiful daughter. She puts everyone else first and her family is more than happy to let her. But everything changes when her father hires Ben Knox to help her in the family store.

Ben is the “bad boy” of Sugarcreek and rumours about him abound. Amidst the chaos of the holiday season, romance ignites though Judith valiantly attempts to ignore those tantalizing sparks. Ben on the other hand, wants her to realize that there is more to him then unfounded rumours. He wants a new beginning but isn’t sure he’s worthy of one.

My Review:

Shelley Shephard Gray has rapidly made her way to the top of my favourite romance author list! I love the way she develops a relationship. The way she builds attraction and tension and then shatters it with conflict. Over and over and over again. LOL. But her angst is never for naught. She delves deep insider her characters and brings their fears to light…and sets them free. In Christmas in Sugarcreek, that results in a story that turns despair into hope during one of the most sacred seasons of the year. A beautiful book that will bless your Christmas season.

CLIPSTON, AMY

NAOMI’S GIFT

Burned twice at love, Naomi King is convinced that God’s plan for her doesn’t include the traditional role of wife and mother. She buries her longings for love in the service of her family.

Caleb Schmucker is a young widower with an eight-year-old daughter and a shadowed past. When he visits family for the holidays he runs into Naomi. Attraction is immediate but confusing to them both. Can they find the courage to trust each other and the faith to follow God’s plan for them?

My Review:

I was transfixed by this novella. Read it in one sitting as a matter of fact. Poor Simba missed another walk on account of a good book. I have to stop doing that or both our waistlines will suffer! Clipston weaves a tight plot line with surprising depth and characterization that makes this a rewarding read. Her pacing is impeccable, nothing drags, rather each scene builds seamlessly to the climax. I think it’s more difficult to write a really good short novel but Clipston has certainly mastered the art. I felt as satisfied as if I’d just finished an epic Amish trilogy. Speaking of which — readers who have read The Kauffmann Bakery Series will be excited to catch glimpses of old friends. I haven’t read the series (but certainly will now!) but didn’t feel anything lacked in Naomi’s Gift because of that. A lovely Christmas read that captures the essence of the season.

And if you’d like a chance at winning a copy of Naomi’s Gift, hop on over to my book review blog. You have until Saturday to get into the draw.

http://www.bestreads-kav.blogspot.com/2011/11/naomis-gift.html

 

Posted on November 18, 2011 - by Kav

Notes To My Teenage Self

Yes notes, not letters. I figure I have a better chance of “mini me” paying attention to a post-it as opposed to an epistle. And we all know how wordy I can get on these blogs. So here it is – short and sweet:

You should really tell mom about the cat guts in the fridge waaaaayyyy before you use the information to trump your annoying sister. The fall out isn’t pretty and your tattling backfires on you anyway.

And that whole emancipate the mice in the science lab escapade? Definitely kudos to you on that one…it’s the talk of the school for a whole week! However, don’t rest on your laurels too soon – at least not until you reconsider bringing Houdini home. Yep, that’s right; the mouse was named after the famous escape artist for a reason. How could you forget that you have four cats in your house? Poor Houdini, may he rest in peace. His untimely demise will haunt you the rest of your life.

Seriously – you’ve got flare, girl. Painting your wellies is a stroke of genius even if all the kids at school mock you. You’re just ahead of your time, that’s all. You should see the rain boots they sell these days. In fact, you should market the idea and become rich and famous. What don’t you do that, huh? I’d appreciate it.

Don’t listen to your sister. Tying your running shoes with polka-dotted ribbons is not lame. It shows individuality. Have more confidence in yourself and blissfully dance to your different (and very Celtic) drummer.

Don’t try to mail yourself to your favourite idol. Now that is lame! You’re going to get found out, dumped by your best friend and made a laughing stock of junior high. Some things are hard to live down. This one is just an all round bad idea.

Okay – you’re not going to like this but you better listen up anyway. Don’t drop all maths and sciences in grade nine. I know, I know, that stupid progressive school with the high-falutin’ idea of allowing a 14 year-old to chart their own course is at fault. Creative Writing, Dramatic Arts, Photography, Art…no exams, homework that’s like a hobby instead of real work. Believe me, I get the appeal, really I do. The thing is your dad is going to get transferred the summer before eleventh grade. New city, new high school – not quite so progressive. You’ll be put back to grade nine math and sciences classes and that is purely mortifying.

The I.I.Gtionary is brilliant. No doubt about it. What secret society wouldn’t want their own language? The Instant Insanity Group got you through the worst of high school and I’m still grateful to them for that. And creating a dictionary of your original language keeps you out of all kinds of trouble…except, no one can understand you in college. Seriously, it’s like you’re speaking a whole different language, which you are, but there are only five people in the whole world who understand it and none of them are at the same college as you are. Talk about awkward!

Stop reading historical romances in History class. Mr. Davies is going to catch you at it and make a scathing example of you. It isn’t pretty and one of your most humiliating high school moments.

 

Okay, there you have it – my teenage years in point form.  Thank goodness we don’t have to live through them twice!!!!

 

Posted on November 4, 2011 - by Kav

Show Not Tell

Show not tell – three little words that have the power to send me into a trembling conniption fit of gargantuan proportions. That’s because I get it…but I don’t. And I’m supposed to teach a ‘how to’ on it. Why don’t we try ‘how not to’? I’d be much better at that!

Okay – I get the basic definition and differences…at least on paper – er, computer screen.

Telling is passive. It fails to engage the reader’s emotions. At it’s worse it can bring your story to a crashing halt by turning action into tedium, romance into ‘ho-hum’ and drama into ‘say what’? Telling can actually push your reader away instead of inviting her to come closer.

Showing is active. It conjures up mental images that spark a reader’s imagination so much she feels like she’s being pulled inside somebody else’s skin (your heroine’s.) The reader becomes a participant as your story comes alive.

Simple enough, right?

Nu-uh! It’s w-a-a-a-a-a-a-y harder than it looks. Trust me. I think it’s because in real life we’re used to ‘telling’ all the time. What happened at work, on the drive home, at church on Sunday. Telling is part of our daily conversation and while it works in real-life it falls flat on paper – er computer screen. A reader wants more.

Okay, this is the part where I get brave now and I’m going to share some of my WIP with you – before and after a wonderful critique I won on Seekerville.

My WIP is in italics

The part that has been critiqued is in red

Critquer’s explanation is in bolded red

Things to Watch Out for When Applying the Principle of Show Not Tell:

Adverbs:

The poor lowly, wonderfully descriptive ‘ly’ words actually stealthily steal the thunder right out of your carefully crafted story leaving it depressingly void of life. Doesn’t that read stilted? Your story will too if you use adverbs as descriptive crutches. Here’s an example:

“Fine!” Jayne exclaimed angrily.

Is this telling ho-hum or what? That adverb doesn’t do justice to the steaming turmoil about to explode from my hapless heroine.

How about this instead?

“Fine! Jayne slammed the door with such force the windowpanes in the living room rattled. She almost wished that the glass would shatter from the power of her wrath. It would be in keeping with the shards of shattered dreams that were at that very moment slicing into her heart.

Okay now the reader knows that Jayne is more than angry. She’s hurt and shaken too but I didn’t come right out and say that. I showed it instead.

Don’t overdo!!!

“Look, I’m sorry about the mix-up and that I took you by surprise. I wasn’t expecting anybody so when I saw you poking around…” Quinn shrugged, obviously deciding that the rest was better left unsaid.

My angel critiquer had this to say about the bit highlighted in red. Redundant. You did a lovely job of showing that he decided the rest was better left off unsaid, don’t tell too.

Let your dialogue do the talking

“I wasn’t poking around, I…” Oh what was the use? They could hash it over until the sun set and she still wouldn’t have a place to stay or a job to go to…at least not for a couple of weeks by the looks of things.

Here’s the critique for the red bit. Sound familiar? Not needed and redundant. Let your dialogue work for you and show her frustration. Not necessary to tell us too.

Don’t Punctuate dialogue with passive words and phrases.

She glanced at her car, coated in dust and grime and held together by rust and wondered if she could even coax the gearshift out of park.

He followed her gaze and grimaced at the battered vehicle. “We have a great mechanic too. Your car looks like it could use a complete overhaul.”

We all could, she thought.

Terms such as she thought, she watched, she wondered are passive and remove intimacy. Let your characters simply do. Italics serve to show internal dialogue. Show don’t tell. LOL Do you sense a theme to my critique?

Okay – I think I’ve got it – how about this:

He followed her gaze and grimaced at the battered vehicle. “We have a great mechanic too. Your car looks like it could use a complete overhaul.”

We all could. Jayne sniffed as a suspicious stinging sensation played tricks with her eyes. Why else would they water? She had to be allergic to something out here in all this fresh air. She blinked hard to fan the moisture away and took a deep breath as she fought for control she wasn’t quite ready to admit she was losing.

I have plenty more examples from my critqued pages but I’m running out of blogging space so I’ll sum Show Not Tell up with this wonderful quote from children’s author Robert Newton Peck:

“Readers want a picture – something to see, not just a paragraph to read. A picture made out of words. That’s what make a pro out of an amateur. An amateur writer tells a story. A pro shows a story, creates a picture to look at instead of just words to read. A good author writes with a camera not a pen.”

Does anyone have any other telling traps that can keep you from showing your best work?

Posted on October 21, 2011 - by Kav

Oh Mercy! Not Mercy!

In the words of the immortal Alexander I’ve been having a rash of terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days (Viorst, Judith : Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day). There isn’t an area of my life that isn’t riddled with challenges right now. From limited Internet access to horrendously long commuting times, to debilitating chronic pain that won’t let up. Let’s just say that mercy isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I contemplate my life. So how on earth am I supposed to turn the following scripture into a devotional?

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (Psalm 23:6)

I posed that very question to my Heavenly Father last weekend (somewhat sarcastically, I might add) and here is his answer.

The first thing you need to know about me is that I was a believer before I even knew what that meant. But even though I follow the Lord’s teachings I often fall short when applying His mercy to me. I’m great at extending it to others though and my mind understands the concepts of forgiveness, clemency, and compassion but my heart won’t always allow me to apply those qualities of mercy to myself. Perhaps that is part of the reason I often fail to recognize the manifestation of the Lord’s mercy in my own life. But does the Lord give up on me? No! But he’s not above shaking things up a bit in order to get my attention!

Throughout my life there have been a handful of startling ‘God moments’ when I have needed them most. I hope you know what I’m talking about – they’re the kind of moments that pack a powerful spiritual punch and can’t be explained away as coincidence or happenchance. One such moment happened last Saturday on my way home from a shift at the college.

After six hours of standing at the reference desk I could barely move let alone make the trek across campus to the bus depot in a timely fashion. I’ll admit to grumbling a bit to God along the way, then realizing that I wouldn’t make it in time and the bus only runs every hour I decided to sit down on a bench and read for twenty minutes or so.

You don’t want to do that.

Uh yeah, I really did. My foot was an explosion of pain and I could barely put any pressure on it. I sat.

Go to the new green building.

Nuh-uh. That would require traversing a rabbit warren of hallways that would make a maze-builder dizzy. I always got lost in B building and I didn’t have the fortitude to make that kind of trek. My foot hurt…a lot.

You’ve been meaning to see the living wall.

That pleasure could wait for another day.

Go. Now.

Before I realized what was happening I was standing, cane firmly grasped in my hand. I hobbled into B building and hesitated. Left or Right?

Left.

I made my way through the most ridiculous piece of architectural design known to mankind. Corridors narrower than an arm span all built in the shape of a honeycomb. It was easy to get lost and turn in circles, ending up at the same landing over and over again. I know; I’d done it so many times I always avoided this section of the building.

But last Saturday I navigated it with relative ease and despite the poor signage found myself at the link that bridged the way to the new building. The living wall was just as beautiful as I imagined it to be – a floor to ceiling expanse of greenery that touched my gardener’s soul. The soothing sound of running water echoed around the cavernous room and set me to thinking about Shannon’s blog about still waters. She used a term I’d heard often enough – Let Go and Let God. I’m not very good at that.

I’ve enjoyed taking a deeper look at the meaning behind Psalm 23 and it occurred to me, standing there, that I had been a wanderer rather than a follower for a long time. I was so wrapped up in the act of surviving day by day that I hadn’t noticed I’d strayed  — not far, mind you – just out of earshot. I’d closed myself off from the promptings of the Spirit, struggling as I tried to do everything my way. I felt some of that control slip just a teensy bit. It felt good – but not good enough to let go completely! I still had some issues with the way God was orchestrating my life and I wanted an explanation. But when I asked why, I was greeted by silence. That got my dander up. Didn’t I deserve an explanation? Wouldn’t it be easier to endure if I understood why?

Now I’m not very proud of this fact, but I slipped back into my old ways and proceeded to list a litany of complaints in the guise of a prayer. “I can handle one…or two or even three things, but really – does everything in my life have to be this way?” More silence. “Are you even listening?” Apparently not.

I huffed off in a snit, down another hallway towards the bus station. It was deserted except for a young man on his cell phone. I could hear part of his conversation as I limped by. It struck me that his side of the conversation was refreshingly free of expletives. He made eye contact – he nodded, I smiled and continued on my way. I hadn’t gone far when I heard him say, “Listen, Dad, I have to go. There’s something I gotta do. I’ll call you later.” Then I heard footsteps pounding behind me. They stopped as he moved in front of me, halting my progress.

He looked nervous and apparently was struggling to say something. If I hadn’t heard him talking on the phone I would have thought he had a speech impediment, but then he blurted out. “I don’t know why, but I feel like you need to know that God listens to your prayers.”

I gaped at him and he hurried on and what proceeded out of his mouth was nothing short of miraculous. In a few sentences he addressed some of the issues that I had been struggling with. There is no way this young man could have known any of that and as he talked a peace settled over me.

“Can I pray for you?” He didn’t wait for my reply, but bent his head and began with “Oh merciful God…” The power of the spirit flowed into me as I listened to his words. Here was the mercy I had been seeking in a form I could never have predicted. This tall, lanky boy who was barely 18 ministered to me that day as a representative of the Savior, I am certain of it.

I hesitated to blog about this experience but I felt that if this young man had the courage to follow the promptings of the Spirit than I should too. So here it is — Mercy in it’s greatest form – an outreach of compassion and faith at the hands of a stranger.