Writer’s Block

Is it just me, or do all writers experience writer’s block?  Oh, I’m not talking about lack of ideas or words, I’m talking about something much more insidious to the writing process…discouragement.

I likened writing my first novel and then having it published as a “birthing process” and for half a year, truly I was on this emotional high and all my attention was centered on my first book “baby”.  People were reading and commenting and reviewing my book with great enthusiasm.  I was in full-marketing mode and the Amazon numbers were in my favour.  My efforts were being rewarded with accolades and awards.  I thought, my first “baby” was doing so well, I should think about birthing another one.  Then the post-natal depression hit.  No matter how hard I tried, twittered, facebooked, emailed, blogged, promoted, book-signed etc. people were virtually ignoring my first “baby”…and me.  I was starting to develop a complex.  To me, my “baby” was perfect…couldn’t others see that?  The story was captivating, the characters were so believable, the setting…rural.  (Okay, the setting may have been less than perfect…but still…)

Then my second “baby” was born and being new to the world and needing more marketing attention to be noticed, my first “baby” was starting to feel neglected.  It was still good…great even, but like an older child, it was relegated to stand in the shadows for a while while its younger sibling preened and posed in all its cuteness and glory.  Truly have I taken this analogy as far as it can go?  I wonder.

Some of my author friends have told me that every book they write is special and holds a little piece of their heart.  (There’s that baby analogy again.)  I have certainly discovered I was equally excited about Heal the Wounded’s release as that of Shoot the Wounded’s.  My husband confidently stated that he was sure that if readers read one of my books they would want to read the other one.  I hoped so.

My third book Love the Wounded, was my third “baby”.  Truly a gift from God.  It was undoubtedly the most difficult book to write and took me the longest to “birth”.  I suppose since I spent so much time on it,Cover Design for Love the Wounded praying over it, and then watching it grow up, I shouldn’t have been surprised when it garnered more attention and honours than the other two books.

It also left me totally exhausted.  So exhausted in the writing process and then the extended marketing of the entire book trilogy that I decided to put any other book projects on hold for awhile so I could recover.  I was burned out.

I am astounded by those prolific writers who manage to write a huge number of books in their lifetime.  I am awed by their stamina.  I don’t know how they are able to write their books and then also have the energy to market, book sign, attend public speaking engagements and still manage to keep writing!  I wonder how they manage their families…or do they?

Anyway, for me I have “writer’s block”…at least when it comes to writing another novel.  It is purposeful writer’s block.  I have a ton of ideas for a new book but I have to take a break.  My blog is my only writing project for now.  I’m okay with that.

“…being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”  Phil. 1:6

 

 

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Godspeed

Patience“How long is this going to take?”  I asked.

“As long as it takes,”  he said.

Whenever my husband answers a question like that I feel like throwing things at him.  Over the last thirty-five years or so, Charles has answered that question the same way.  We had just started dating.  I wanted to go out for dinner and then go dancing, instead my boyfriend was busily trying to change a transmission in his hopped up muscle car.  I sat on the pavement, bored, handing Charles wrenches and sockets when he asked for them.

“How long is this going to take?”  I asked and yawned.

“As long as it takes,” he shouted from under the car.

We had been married for five years and I was expecting my first baby.  I was as big as a mountain and baby was overdue…waaaay overdue.  Baby loved “womb service” too much I suppose.  The doctor tried to induce me not once, not twice but five times but finally decided to send me home to wait until my body decided to go into labour on its own.

“How long is this going to take?”  I asked my husband in exasperation.

He shrugged and shook his head, “As long as it takes.”

We were all piled into a motorhome and enroute to Los Angeles.  We had never traveled there before and certainly not with a “tweenie” and two preschoolers.  My husband called it our “great adventure” but after driving for hours and hours with restless children whining every few minutes, “Are we there yet?”, I was ready to turn the rig around and go home.

“How long is this going to take?”  I asked.

My husband gave me that “Et tu Brute?” look and then glared back at the road.  “As long as it takes,” he growled.

We live in a world of fast, fast, fast.  Everything in our world is fast-paced.  We want instant results, instant gratification.  We don’t want to wait. We want everything right away…high speed internet, microwave dinners in two minutes or less, rapid transit, super-stock, jet-propulsed…zoom, zoom.

We put those expectations on God too.

“Lord, I’m running out of patience.  I’ve prayed for him to come to You.  Years and years I’ve prayed for his salvation.  How long is this going to take?”

As long as it takes,”  the Lord answers.

“I’ve tried to be patient.  I’ve asked you to heal her, Lord.  How long is this going to take?”

As long as it takes,” the Lord responds.

“He’s been out of work over a year, now Lord.  We’ve asked You for direction.  We’ve asked You for patience while we wait, but seriously Lord, how long is this going to take?”

God smiles at me and says, “As long as it takes.”

Then I realize what I have just said.  Did I just ask for patience and then expect God to “hurry up” with that?!

Godspeed.

“To wish someone Godspeed is to ask for God’s blessings on his or her endeavor, most notably a long journey or a risky but potentially rewarding venture… The confusion over the meaning of Godspeed, which may also be rendered as god-speed or even goodspeed, lies in the definition of speed.  The original meaning of the Old English word speed had nothing to do with velocity, but rather prosperity and good fortune.  The addition of God to the concept of financial bounty may sound jarring at first, but the word Godspeed was an acknowledgment of God’s generosity and blessing.  Speed in that sense was the righteous acquisition of wealth and property through hard work and reverent behavior.”  (definition from: http://www.wisegeek.com/)

I suppose I’m not quite there yet.

… We continue to shout our praise even when we’re hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next.  (The Message)

How long is this going to take?

As long as it takes.

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A Picture Worth a Thousand Words!

October 1, 2008 018Just ask my kids and they will tell you that I LOVE taking pictures.  No… it’s more than that, they’ll say, I have an almost insatiable urge to take pictures at anytime and just about anywhere.  It started when my Dad gave me this little polaroid camera when I was in grade nine.  It was one that you had to drop in the Kodak film and then rolled the film along manually so that the film would “catch” signifying that the camera was now loaded and ready for me to take pictures.  Okay, I don’t know if that’s the technical way of saying it, but basically that’s what you had to do.  Then everytime you snapped a picture you had to manually roll the film ahead so you could take the next picture.

I was probably one of the first people to get one of those “instant” cameras…the ones that took a picture and then like a kind of dispensing machine the picture was spit out and then you waited for 5 minutes until the image mysteriously started to develop.  Yeah, not so “instant”.

I then progressed to a Pentax camera with a zoom lense!  Whoo hoo!  I thought technology could just not get any better than that.  My husband joked that we should have taken out stock options with Kodak for all the rolls upon rolls of film I was developing every few weeks.  The problem was though, that the camera had all these settings and nuances that I never really made use of.  I relied solely on my natural ability to take awesome pictures.

My next camera was an Olympus.  Point and click, point and click!  It was foolproof.  Automatic zoom, automatic loading of film, automatic focus!  But quickly that camera went the way of the dinosaurs and the digital age arrived and I thought I had gone to amateur photographer’s heaven when I got my new digital Olympus!  I could snap countless numbers of pictures and look at them immediately!  If I didn’t like a picture, I could delete it!  I could experiment, I could change settings, I could add captions or change from colour to black and white!  But it got better…now I could even edit my pictures using my computer.  If my picture didn’t live up to my expectations…into the recycle bin it went.  (That’s photographer’s talk for…I deleted it!)

Soon my children were cringing at every birthday party, sporting event, family gathering, family outing, school dances…etc. etc. because there I was snapping away with wild abandon capturing their images whenever I had the chance.  They started to hide from me or worse…ruin the picture by sticking their tongue out whenever I forced them to pose for me.  They couldn’t escape…I told them I’d keep snapping until I got one I liked.  I started to digitally scrapbook my pictures.  My computer overflowed from photo files.  It became my obsession.

There was only one catch to this magnificent obsession…in order for me to snap a perfect picture, it had to be ME behind the camera.  You see I TAKE the pictures…I avoid having MY picture taken!

So as I was going through my kabillions of photo files I gasped at the truly horrific pictures that had been taken of me through the ages.  I knew there was a reason why I was the photographer and never the photographed.  I had almost forgiven a friend for snapping the most awful “stills” of me at VBS and SYC until I ran across them again in one of those “throw-back Thursday” files.  Ahhhhh!  Then of course there were all those silly snapshots of me at church or family events when I dressed up in a costume for one reason or another.  Oh, and I couldn’t forget all those candid shots where I was caught eating food and someone snapped a picture of me in mid-chew.  I will admit I even laughed out loud when I saw a photo taken during VBS many years ago when a preschooler stuck stickers all over my face “to make me look special” he said in his sweet four year old voice.  I looked “special” all right!

It seemed every picture taken of me I discarded as inappropriate for some reason: “this picture makes me look: fat, old, stupid, dazed, confused, silly, tired, on drugs, silly, ridiculous, mad, sad, dumb, ….”  I realized that while I had taken some glorious pictures of my husband, children and friends, there were virtually no acceptable pictures of ME!  That is why I nearly jumped for joy when I came across a picture of me buried under the debris of what can only be described as photographic carnage to that point.  I use this picture of me quite often as the photo of choice for profile pictures, thumbnails etc. in the social media world.  I daresay I haven’t found a recent picture of me that I like better than this one (even though it’s now considered an “old” picture.)

My husband had surprised me by announcing as soon as the children were headed off to school, that he was taking me to the mountains for lunch!  A beautiful fall day in 2009, just prior to Thanksgiving, the Kananaskis beckoned us to experience the full beauty of the colours of the season.  I couldn’t wait to grab my camera and go!

We had a wonderful lunch together at the Kananaskis Lodge and then we went for a long, leisurely walk along the pathway that overlooked the river and the golf course.  I had probably snapped my fiftieth picture when Charles grabbed my camera and said, “Let me take a picture of you.”

I was worried.  This was not the first time he had tried to take my picture.  He always said, “You really look good!” and he would show me the photographic “nightmare” and smile so proudly of his photographic “genius” that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the picture made me look: fat, old, stupid, dazed, confused, silly, tired, on drugs, silly, ridiculous, mad, sad, dumb, …..  When he wasn’t looking I would quickly “recycle” the picture.

So with great trepidation I posed for him and he quickly snapped the picture and then said, “This one is not bad of you at all!”

I think he was as surprised as I was.

 

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