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 |   Exploring the future through the present. One day at a time. |
No one has a favorite item except me and Kåre Enga in Montana  ?Perhaps it's my dour mood talking, but I hope you didn't think I used my last entry to camouflage my desire to brag up my items. I merely want to know more about what you like about your writing, and I thought you'd be curious about mine. Anyway, if I'm totally off-base ignore this entry and have a great week. |
| I enjoyed your responses to my last entry, so I'm upping the ante, so to speak. Link me your favorite item, and tell me why. Mine isn't a single item, but an idea. A few years ago, I wrote some monologues for an Easter play at my church. They're based on little-known (or unknown) people who experienced Jesus and his forgiveness. I liked the premise so much, I decided to write more - a lot more. I've only written five so far, but I'd like to write a bunch more beginning at Genesis and ending at Jesus' Resurrection. If nothing else, the little stories encourage me to study the Bible more, as well as our history. You can read the five I've written in this folder:
I will be reading and reviewing yours in the next few weeks when I can steal an hour here and there. Thanks!! |
| I stole a few minutes from work (shhh. Please don't tell) and perused my portfolio. I found the first item I posted back in September 4, 2005. Almost three years ago now. It's nothing special, but merely the only thing I felt worthy to share with others at the time. It was an assignment for the Apprentice correspondence writing program I took through the Christian Writers Guild. You can read it here:
Now before you stumble over there to read it, I want you to link the first item you posted either as a comment here or in your own blog - if'n you got one. I'm curious to know what first thing you found worthy to share with the world and why you thought it so. I also want to know what your thoughts are on it now. What's changed from the way you wrote then to how you write now? Would you rewrite that item, or leave it as is? For me, I would tighten it up quite a bit. I tend to be wordy and repetitive, and this item contains examples of both. As for the story itself, it requires no changes. |
| I received a letter today. It was a thin letter, standard #10 envelope with my name and address typed nice and neat. Definitely done by computer. And then I noted the return address. I knew what the letter contained, and I admit to a twinge of fear. I hesitated to open it for a total of three minutes. I inhaled deep and tore the letter open. It read as follows: Dear Andra, Thank you for sending us your proposal for our review. While your project exhibits merit it is not quite what we are looking for at this time. This is a good plotline but the writing craft is about a B (if we were to assign a letter grade to it). In other words, you have the start of something special, but it needs work to get to the level that will let you break into the market. The main problem is that it feels like the story is over narrated. The immense number of proposals we receive, our full client list, and the intense nature of the competition in the marketplace causes us to be highly selective. Thus we have to make hard decisions. We appreciate the opportunity and wish you the best in your search for another agency. Far from the standard form rejection letter, I still could have plopped to the floor in a tantrum and screamed, "No fair, no fair! Waaaahaaahaaaahaaaa!" But no, I thought it was a great letter. The agent took the time to not only read my proposal, but critique it. I didn't know what he meant by "over narrated" though, so I said a little prayer: "God, I've taken this book as far as I can. It's yours to do with as you please. Whatever problems there be with it, show me how I can fix them." Not two seconds later I got it and I wasn't even surprised. A lot of times the answers we seek for even the most confounding questions are ones we already know, but for whatever reason elude us for a time. I know where the over narration is and had for quite some time - albeit on a subconscious level. After my prayer I realized the agent's letter confirmed what I suspected, but couldn't confirm. I now know how to fix it. I'll tackle the editing later, though. I still have a novella to complete. That I know doesn't have an over narration problem. It has an under narration problem. As I finish the novella, I will research into another agency. On the lighter side: Sunday we took Thomas on his first boat ride. Dave's cousin and his wife (Thomas' Godparents) invited us to breakfast on their pontoon boat as we putz along the Missouri River. The weather started out perfect. At 7:30am, there were no other boats, the temperature was a comfortable 68 degrees, and with little wind, the water was smooth as glass. We ended up staying until 3pm when I needed to get back to prepare for that night's Bible study. We all had a great time, and Thomas enjoyed having his feet in the water and watch the little waves tackle his legs. He only balked when he sat in it. Who could blame him, feeling the sudden cold water on his sensitive parts! Got a few pictures to share of the trip:  Does this life jacket make me look fat? Mom won't answer. She's too busy looking elsewhere. Plus my hat is crooked . . .  Daddy promised not to throw me overboard. AND he fixed my hat.  There's more than one use for a life jacket. It doubles as an umbrella. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. |
| I've asked that question much of late. Why do I remain here at writing.com? Is it to write, to better my skills, or is it more a social club? Do I interact out of obligation, that because people read and comment on my work, I must return the favor? I don't shirk the friendship you've given me. In fact I treasure it. You've taught me much, made me laugh, and encouraged me when I needed it most. But I also lost the main reason I signed up now almost three years ago. It was easy, starting an online journal about my walk with God. Anonymity gives a person courage to say whatever is on the mind, no matter how controversial. After all, if someone doesn't have a personal relationship with the reader, there's nothing to lose in saying whatever he or she wants. Now that I've developed relationships with some of you, including exchanging telephone numbers, I think long and hard about what I add to my journal. I toss aside many a subject out of fear I might offend or upset you. That's a terrible attitude. After all, you came here to start because you enjoyed reading what I had to say, even if you didn't agree. I can't count one comment that was mean or insulting. Sure there was much heated debate, but always there was respect. Why did that change? Have I lost courage because I lost my anonymity? Last week I started a new Bible study. It's called "Experiencing God" by Henry & Richard Blackaby and Claude King. Lesson (or Unit) 4 discussed how we need to focus our prayers, and where to look for God's will. It made me realize I pray backward. The lesson stressed to pray for God to show us where he's working, and then to follow. For instance, the writers tried to start a new church. For three years they met with failure. Finally they prayed, "God show me where you're working." For example, instead of studying demographics for the perfect place for a new church, the writers asked local people in surrounding towns what their needs were. One man who happened to see the question in a church bulletin asked if they were serious about starting a new church in a needing community. Turns out he had been trying to start one for 24 years, but couldn't gain enough interest. Within a year, they had a new building and thriving congregation. Instead of trying to lead God with my wants, needs and desires, I should ask him to show me where he needs me and let him lead me there. I don't have to worry about not having the experience, knowledge and wisdom to tackle the task he places before me, because he will provide everything I need. After all, why would he give me a task and not give me the proper tools? That would be like a foreman telling his workers to dig a trench but give them nothing to dig with. What does this have to do with writing.com and my journal? A few things. I didn't pray specifically for God to invite me to join him where he's working, but I received a message loud and clear two days ago. I came within one mouse-click of deleting my "Sharing Your Faith"  campfire, and even contemplated deleting the entire "God's Way Group" . I accept much of the blame for ignoring the group myself, but participation had dropped to zero for almost a year. Even sending out emails asking for people to pick up the campfire yielded only silence. I figured there was no point in keeping something no one was interested in.I gave the campfire one more shot, and within an hour the next person in line contributed, with two others expressing interest. Three others requested inclusion into the group since then. As for my journal, by editing my novella which focuses on how God pursues us no matter what we've done in our past, I realized I lost my way. The original intent of my journal here - both of them - was to glorify God. Sure, I wrote an occasional entry about my walk, but it focused mostly on my day-to-day life. Heck, here I had a journal on a writing site, and I rarely talked about writing! If I am to write a book about God, I need to know more about him and then relay that knowledge through my fiction. I can only do that by keeping my heart and mind on him, and the best way for me has always been through writing. He has blessed me much through this journal, and I would like to keep it that way. Though it may be a selfish prayer, I hope he continues to lead me here and write about what he wants me to write about. Anonymous or known, it shouldn't matter. Only God matters. Everything else is mere detail. Don't worry, I'll still write about my son's antics as he grows. Thomas to me is one of God's greatest blessings, so I have to share him. |
| It doesn't seem fair. Here I write an entry and expect you to read it, while at the same time I don't visit yours. Yet I add an entry anyway, because it's not about me. Every person has at least one outstanding feature. It could be their hair, their height (short or tall), their posture, eyes, lips, smile, and a multitude of others. I've noticed from day one how large my son's eyes are. My mom calls them "alien eyes." I call him "Bright Eyes." No matter the amount of light in a room, it seems attracted to his eyes and they shine. They are also an amazing blue, like the waters of a melting glacier. I tried to capture that color today as he lay on my bed with the sun shining on him. The maroon of the comforter seemed to contrast them nicely. I took many a picture, and this one bestly captures one of Thomas' outstanding features:  The photo's not perfect, but it's close. I thank you for taking some precious time out of your day to read my words. I hope it wasn't wasted. Now get out of here and enjoy the rest of your weekend. That's an order. |
| It's been a rough couple of weeks. I've complained before about our new project manager; well the situation soured further as a deadline for a mile-long water and sewer project loomed. Even at the end when we passed our original deadline, he and the other two engineers kept making major changes. It drove us draft-people to near murderous rage. While we finished that project last week and the pressure has reduced, we still have to deal with the project manager asking for drawings or data that don't make any sense. Not a problem as such. It sometimes seems like when we try to explain how what he wants doesn't work, he takes it personal. Or he thinks, "I'm the engineer, you're just a drafter. You don't know what you're talking about. Just do what I say." At one point another drafter said, "I want to stab him in the eye with my pen right now." Makes for a lovely work environment, don't you agree? It could be too at his previous employment, he did all of his work himself and isn't used to people questioning what he's doing. I acknowledge a lot of it could be miscommunication, and we simply don't understand what he's trying to accomplish. Still, we can't get past the frustration it causes, regardless of the reasons. A few days ago, the secretary asked me if I've complained to Dave. To my surprise, I haven't. Until I thought about it. The moment I walk in the door and see Thomas, I forget about work. Nothing else matters aside from my son. That's the way it should be, and I'm glad of it. Thomas teaches me every day to live in and relish the moment. Staying away from blogging this last week and a half has resulted in another relief. Though I love reading about your life's happenings, concentrating on my own life has resulted in one goal met. I finally sent off my book proposal to an agent. I should hear back in about six weeks, and discover whether or not I suck as a writer. Kidding. Sort of. I hope he takes me, or at least informs me my writing doesn't suck, but that my manuscript isn't a good fit for his company. I really don't want to edit this story again. Rewriting a query or synopsis to meet the guidelines of a different agency I can do. I simply can't edit it better anymore. To try would be to make it worse. While I wait for a response I will continue to edit my novella. I've completed 1-1/2" chapters so far. The nice thing is I'm excited about the changes. The story has gripped me all over again. I love that feeling. |
| I'm taking a vacation. A long one. Say after December 31, 2008. Of all the election years I've endured, this is the worst. It's not so much the passion of others screaming the righteousness of their cause, but trying to explain my point of view on many issues that happens to differ. 90% of the time, it falls on deaf ears. I feel like the insane person who hasn't bathed in five years holding a cardboard sign that reads, "The End Is Near." While my expressions aren't nearly so dismal, I feel like I'm making that kind of impact. All my words not only fail to convince, but are laughed off as either crazy or misinformed. Instead of blood spewing out of my ears due to high blood pressure, I'm waving goodbye. I'm tired of wasting my time and energy. Maybe I'll talk about cheese. Cheese isn't a politically incorrect or divisive subject is it? |
| I'm a terrible mom. Just terrible. Some have suggested people should get a license before they can have kids. Yep. I'm one. In fact, I'm the example to use why parenting licenses are a must. So what am I doing that's so awful? I'm torturing my son. That's right. I make him cry and get all snot-slobber-faced. At least once a day. I could blame it on what everyone tells me: Babies need time on their belly since they spend most of it on their backs. The problem is Thomas hates it. I figured out it's because he's a watcher. When he's on his back, sitting or standing up (with help, but he's getting stronger every day), he can see everything. On his belly, his field of vision is less than two feet vertical, and 180 degrees horizontal. Plus his head is heavy. It would be like you and I trying to lug around a thirty pound head (13.6 kg for those across the pond). No wonder after only two-three minutes he gets pissed. Still, the more I put him there, the better he does. He holds up his head at longer intervals, and he's starting to scoot. He also can almost roll over. He just hasn't figured out how to push hard enough past his shoulders. Until then I will continue torturing my son. Told you I was a terrible mom. To prove it here's a picture I took of him on his belly yesterday:  Doesn't he look miserable, a tortured soul? Note: I took this right after I rolled him onto his belly. It looks like he's starting to enjoy belly time - for a while until he can't hold up his head any longer. Three minutes later, you would definitely think I was torturing him. He seemed to think so anyway (Okay, I admit it. So did I). I know what you're thinking: Welcome to parenthood. This is but the beginning of making my little one do what he doesn't want to do - yelling, crying and temper tantrums notwithstanding. |
| You're either gonna laugh at me or slap me silly after you read this entry. I've struggled with my writing of late. I have three main writing goals - self-publish my novella, seek out an agent for my trilogy, and participate in the anthology Voxxylady  will be putting together shortly.When I look at my novella I sigh, dejected because it needs so much work. My novel also needs more slashes of the red pen. Picking a short story for the anthology is proving a greater challenge because none are good enough yet. I keep thinking as I try to tackle one of them, "Why bother? I suck. Nothing I do will improve this crap." Ready to slap me yet? I am. I know better. Good Lord, all I have to do is read my item reviews, reread many of your comments here, even peruse my Trophy Room to discover I far from suck as a writer. So why is it so difficult to be convinced at times? What causes this drop in confidence when nothing specific happened to discourage me? It's quite simple, and I've written about it more than once. Fear. Fear of failure, and a fear of success. My three goals consist of publication. I'm afraid of sending out my work just so it can be rejected. I'm afraid of sending out my work so it can be embraced by many readers who will in turn ask for more. Can I deliver? Will I end up disappointing them in the end? This circular thinking is enough to drive a person mad. Maybe I'm already mad. Either way, sane or insane, confident or not, I must write my way through this. Confidence only builds by working hard and never quitting. I have to laugh, though. Whenever I feel discouraged about my writing, what do I do? I write. |
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