The Library is My Happy Place

Last night I went to our public library without my kids. (Gasp!)

The public library (in any town) has always been my “happy place.” I love the smell, the quiet, the possibilities. I love to run my hand down the spines of all the books, knowing that I could never possibly read them all. It is simply mind-boggling to me that I can take out any of those books for free! Yes, I know, I know… taxes, etc. But when I’m walking down long rows of loaded shelves which tower above my head and stretch far in front of me – I am worse than a kid in a candy store. Because in this candy store, I can have whatever my heart desires, and I don’t have to pay a cent (unless I forget to bring it back). Such joy. Such a privelege.

Last night I was not there to check out books – I came for an author’s talk. Karen Spears Zacharias talked about her new book, Will Jesus Buy Me a Double-Wide: 'Cause I Need More Room for My Plasma TV. She held the small crowd enraptured, drawing out belly laughs one moment and tears the next.

I didn’t have much time to peruse the stacks, but I did stop at the NEW book shelf. I found a handful of new Christian titles: Rachel’s Garden by Marta Perry (3/2010), Where Grace Abides by B. J. Hoff (10/2009), Luke’s Story by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins (2/2010). I also spotted one of my Friday Book Picks (read the post here) Powers by John B. Olson (12/2009). There are two more books that I desperately want to read, so I got on Amazon.com as soon as I got home to order Shawn Grady’s brand new release, Tomorrow We Die (See my Friday Book Pick of his debut novel, Through the Fire). And, after spotting Annalisa Daughety on Twitter and discovering that she is also a former national park ranger turned Christian novelist, I had to order her park ranger romance, Love is a Battlefield.

So, I should be busy for awhile!

Have you been to your public library recently? Check it out (pun intended). There are sure to be some sweet treats waiting there for you.

What's in a Name?

I have read about cultures in which the parents wait until a baby is old enough to have a bit of personality before choosing a name for it. I've discovered that choosing a title for a book happens in much the same way. I've been working on the second book in a series, and although I knew it was about secrets (every character is carrying at least one and lives in terror of it being discovered) I had yet to settle on a working title. "Secrets" seemed too obvious. I mulled over other secretive words and phrases: deceit, deception, mistakes, secret sins... None of these seemed right.

Just recently, a word floated to my mind that perfectly framed the mood of the story.

Hidden.

We keep our secrets -- our sins -- hidden deep within the shadows of our hearts. Perfect.

Even better, it fits well with the title of book one: Shaken. They both are past participle verbs that end in -en.

That's got me quite excited about choosing a working title for book three. With the help of Google (you can find ANYTHING on Google), I started listing other p.p. verbs that end in -en.

Flash-frozen. Fost-bitten. Overeaten. Shaven. Shrunken. Well, maybe not.

But how about... Forgiven. forgotten, forsaken, driven, forbidden, arisen, fallen, chosen, broken, mistaken, stolen, interwoven or spoken? These all give me goosebumps.

Of course, any name is only a "working title" until it is approved by a publisher. I have heard of countless cases of publishers changing book titles. Perhaps there's a similar book with the same title. Or it just won't look good on the cover. Or the editor simply hates it. Whatever the case -- it is important to keep in mind that working titles are temporary.

I stumbled over one past particle verb that would cast chills down the spine of every frustrated writer: Re-written.

Maybe I'll save that one for my next series.

Would Austen own an iPad?

Happy Friday to you! This should be a "Book Pick Friday," but my sweet hubbie recently bought me a dvd collection of Jane Austen movies. So instead of reading, I've been spending my evenings watching fine ladies struggling to find love within the unjust restraints of social class.

(Insert contented sigh here.)

I can now say that I've watched at least three different versions of Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, but still have to read the books. That's just wrong -- right? Hmm.

For those of you that own e-readers, all of Austen's books can be downloaded free from Amazon. I'm toying with the idea of buying an iPad. My father recently purchased one and I played with it a bit. Even though I have long drooled over the Kindle, I was immediately won over by the iPad's color display and other features.  I recently read a review that claimed that comparing the iPad to the Kindle was like comparing a computer to a typewriter. I also learned that you are able to download an "app" to the iPad that will allow you to read kindle (Amazon) downloads. I keep receiving notices of great titles (including brand new fiction, not just Austen/Dickens/Doyle types of novels) being offered for free, so that makes it very attractive to me. Now I just have to get past the "maybe I'll wait and see if something better comes along" attititude which always plagues me.

So, what do you think. Would Jane Austen have read books on an iPad?

The Summer Sneakies

Summer is here, and I have to admit -- I've been a bit nervous about its arrival. Last year, I pretty much gave up writing for the summer. What with kids underfoot and their perpetual, "Iwantasnack! Let'sgosomewhere! Hehitme! Canwegotothepark..." I assumed I would never be able to organize my thoughts. (Reminds me of an earlier post about the lies we writers tell ourselves, read "Lies, Lies, Lies."

This year I am more determined. With my first novel finished and being "evaluated" by publishers and agents (wait-wait-wait), I feel like I am on my way to a real career. Real careers don't get summer vacations. Well, some do, I suppose. But, I want to keep my momentum going. The kids could entertain themselves. I would be firm. I would be disciplined. I would  be sneaky.

I discovered my strongest ally in the public library -- my "happy place." We've always loved the kids summer reading program. The kids log a certain number of hours and they earn prizes. My kids LOVE prizes. I LOVE quiet time.

This past week we've found some type of neutral ground (work always happens best without the distractions of home) and they've "worked" at their reading program while I've written. Twice now, we've gone to my favorite coffee shop. I bribe them with a muffin and a drink and set them up at a nearby table. They settle in with their books. I sit nearby with my iPod (on low) and my laptop. One time we worked at the library (though I found all the other kids trooping past a bit distracting). How is this sneaky? Because they think I'm helping them earn their prizes.

It's working amazingly well. Each time, I've hit my word goal in a little over an hour. That's all it took to get the creative juices flowing.

I hope we can maintain this routine. If we do, I might have my rough draft done by the end of the summer. Though as they get a bit bored with the reading program, I may need to get more creative. More disciplined. More sneaky.

Anyone have ideas for me? How do you sneak in time for writing?

History or His-Story?

Last night I was deeply touched by the PBS documentary, Perilous Fight: America's World War II in Color. Normally, I do not watch war documentaries. But the color images drew me -- and the stories swept me away.

Historical documentaries have recently become less about teaching facts and more about telling stories. I was entranced by narrators reading letters from soldiers and their families. The film followed specific GIs as much as possible. When a pilot (whom they had showed in home movies with his beautiful wife and bouncing baby boy) was writing a letter about going out on one of his last flights in his tour of duty, I nearly shut off the program. You could feel what was coming--the dreaded telegram--and they read every painful word. And then the final blow -- the only thing found in the wreckage of his plane? A pair of baby shoes. Ouch. How can you watch something like that and not be changed?

Human hearts respond to story, not facts. Historians can tell us the casulty numbers, they can show us the footage... but tell us one soldier's experience and we weep. It becomes real. "His story" becomes our story. "His story" is far more poignant than "history."

So, what does that mean for writers of historical fiction? Use historical detail lightly, as a backdrop for your novel -- but focus mainly on lives. Usher your reader into the time period by allowing them to connect with your character's heart. Many new writers (myself included) struggle with this. (Read more in "Back Up the Dump Truck.") Randy Ingermanson teaches that most readers are seeking powerful emotional experience (and what is the acronym for that?), not a history lesson. (Read more about Randy's PEE, ahem, here). Yes, make sure your facts are correct and that the reader truly feels like they are in your chosen time period, but do so through your character's experiences.

If you want to read a great example of how an author can balance story with history, check out my favorite WWII historical novel: Sarah Sundin's, A Distant Melody. It was a Friday Book Pick back on April 8th.

Now, go get to work! And don't forget: tell his story (or her story) , not history.

From the PBS website, describing the letters used in the documentary: A goal of any work of art is to share the emotion, the truth of a life at a moment in time. If so, then the letters that went back and forth across the continents between 1941 and 1945 are collectively one monumental work of art: composed of billions of simple, small pieces - pieces that share the moments of triumph, tragedy, love, hatred, duty, and loss.

Smells sort of funky, too...

Last night I lay awake -- tossing and turning -- my mind and heart tortured by anxiety. And what got me in such a state? Well, it's a little embarassing to admit. It's so stupid.

I was anxious about "stuff." More precisely -- too much stuff.

A family in our church has been selling off their belongings in preparation for going into the mission field. I get a little sick when I look around my house at all the stuff that I've collected. Most of it is just clutter that I don't even really care about. But it's so hard to know where to start sorting and what to do with it all.

Today, I pulled a chair up close to the fireplace (filled with lit candles) and tried to turn my back on the mess so I could get some writing done. I pulled out my iPod for a little mood music. After working for awhile, a favorite song popped up and I had to sit back and really listen. Charlie Peacock sang, "Monkeys at the Zoo." These words really spoke to my anxious heart.

I have got to clean house, gotta make my bed,
Gotta clear my head,

It's getting kinda stuffy in here, smells sort of funky too,

Like the monkeys at the zoo,

I have been whoring after things

'Cause I wanna get everything right - that's a big, fat lie,

No amount of green, gold or silver, the perfect body, another hot toddy,

Work for the Lord, fame and power, power and sex,

A seat at the table at the Bellamy Country Club,

Here's the rub:
Nothing will ever take the place of the peace of God.

Spirit, come flush the lies out. Spirit, come on, come on, flush the lies out.

Is it my house that needs to be cleaned out?

Or, is it my heart?

I don't believe God really cares about my clutter. I imagine what concerns Him is that my imagined "perfect Christian life" clutters my spirit and distracts me from my calling. Like Charlie said, "it's getting kinda stuffy in here, smells sort of funky too, like the monkeys at the zoo."

It's time to for me to clean house. And no vacuum, windex or "truck in your neighborhood" is going to do it for me. It's time to throw out the junk that clutters my spirit. It's time to flush those lies out.

What lies are cluttering your life?