This Writing Thing? Maybe It's Not About You

It’s a burning idea.

A passion that can’t be quenched.

A germ of a story that won’t go away.

You’re a writer. It’s who you are. Ingrained in your DNA. Found in your identity.

Words are your joy.

But sometimes those same words become your greatest enemy. Maybe you’re not conscious of this happening. Maybe it’s been a slow fade down what is now becoming an even sloppier slope. And suddenly you’re at the end and you don’t want to put words on the page.

Or maybe you do want to put words on the page, but the right words aren’t there. You’re drawing 

from an empty well.

God does not call us to be perfect vessels for His work. He does not expect you to be all together all of the time. And yet so often, we put that pressure on ourselves, don’t we? We expect that we should always be able to sit down at the computer, slit a vein and write as though the words will always be there.

In that moment, we are relying on our own strength for this thing we call writing.

We become obsessed with our words. We become caught up in the euphoric high of stringing 90,000 words together into a manuscript. And we forget the Orator of those words. Whether you are writing fiction or nonfiction, these are not your words. This is not just your passion.   

And in that moment, we are relying on our own strength for this thing we call writing.

It’s not our strength that gives us these ideas we turn into stories. It’s not our strength that gives us the words to write these stories. And it’s not our strength that carries us through the times of intense burnout. While we might not consciously think that it is, or make the decision that it is our passion, our drive, our ability putting these words on the screen, when we remove our focus from the true Source, we begin to falter.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Do you believe that?

Do you believe that God is carrying you through? This isn’t on your own strength. We remember that in our daily lives a little bit better than we do in our writing lives. We get caught up. Focused. Driven. Forget God’s timing. God’s way. God’s provision.

That sometimes we have to take a backseat to our dreams, remain faithful to the calling He has laid on our heart and let Him direct everything else.

It’s surrender. It’s release. It’s not giving up. It’s not giving in. It’s giving over. Remembering where this true fount of word-joy has come from. Whom it has come from.

Do you take time to hit your knees before you write? Because this isn’t about you and what you can do. It’s about what God can do through you as His vessel. Do you dedicate your writing time—no matter how small or large that might be—to your Creator? Without Him, there would be no you. No you to write these words and stories only you can write…though the power and grace of your Savior.

This writing thing isn’t meant to be done alone. Are you trying to? Are you mustering through without realizing this?

Maybe it’s time to stop and start over again. 

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Casey Herringshaw is a homeschool graduate and has been writing since high school, currently serving as the ACFW Carol Awards Coordinator. She is a country girl now living in a metropolis of Denver, Colorado.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

May you experience the JOY that Christmas brings today through the JESUS we celebrate.

In honor of Jesus' birth, we at the alley are "closed" for the day. We will reopen tomorrow with another excited blog post.

Be blessed and 

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

~ The Alley Cats

Christmas in the Mountains

A week of Christmas scenes on the Writer's Alley. Each Alley Cat sharing in a different way. Don't you just love Christmas stories? Some of the Alley Cats have shared personal stories, some inspirations for their books, and some, like me, are sharing a scene from one of their WIPs. 

Christmas is my absolute favorite holiday. The season deserves so much respect because of Who is the focus of the celebration. As a result, I'm a bit nervous about this post, but hope you will like this scene, and see how I feel it honors Jesus.

Photo Courtesy

Set up: Samantha (Sam) and Hank's families have fought for generations. Due to strange circumstances, both families show up at the same lodge in the Rocky Mountains at Christmastime. As expected, tempers boiled. Amazing, though, how a few traumatic events could bring two warring families together. And on Christmas morning...






Sam sat with her ailing dad on the sofa near the fireplace. Flames crackled, the only sound other than their conversation in the lodge's great room during those golden morning hours. 

Hank's boots clomped on the wooden floor with a steady cowboy rhythm as he rounded the corner. A Stetson set forward on his head the way Sam liked it. His mom had suggested he not wear it in the lodge yesterday, but this was Christmas. A day when hearts were so full they could do nothing but overflow with love. God had created this handsome man who had the scent of outdoor heaven.

His hand nudged the brim of his hat. “Mind if I put on some music?” The deep twang rolled from his chest.   

She wanted to go to him, but Dad needed her.

Dad winked at her. "Go ahead, Sweet Pea. I'm fine." 

She kissed him on the cheek and pressed herself to a stand. "Love you, Dad." 

The man of her dreams stood only a few feet away, thumbs hung in his jeans pockets and one knee cocked to the side. She swooshed her hair behind her shoulders and tried to hide the warmth building in her cheeks. “I'd loved to hear some music.” 

Big Sky, Montana
Photo taken by Mary Vee

His long fingers, calloused from working the ranch, threaded through hers, and they walked to the stereo system built into the far oak wall. Electronic lights sprang to life when he pressed a few buttons and adjusted the sound with a turn of a dial.

He could pick any style of music, it didn't matter, even if he chose country, as long as he let her slip between his arms.

Piano keys meshed with guitar strings, softly opening a song she hadn't heard before. 

He reached his other hand out to her. 

The music compelled her hips to swayed with the beat as her hand nestled into his. 

He gazed at her, mouthing the words as though he'd written the song. Wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close, his dance mimicked the lyrics. The room blurred behind them as they danced on the hardwood floor, him twirling her in circles and catching her securely in his arms. 

The last note played, but he didn't move away. Dancing with him had squelched the stress of her job and all the lies her manipulative boss had told. Hank's breath calmed her heart even more.

An audience of eight applauded, embarrassing her. The music must have attracted everyone to the main room. Hank's dad had his arm around his mom. “Play that song again, Son. Your mother and I heard it on the radio and liked it.”

Sam's brother, Fred scooped his wife into his arms. “May I have this dance?”

She nodded and looked around the room. “Let’s move the furniture against the wall first.” 

That's when a miracle happened. Hank's family and Sam's family worked together. Yes, it was the shocker of the day, of the year, of generations, but they actually worked together. The sofa, coffee table, and other furniture scooted across the floor toward the wall, opening the dance floor. 

Hank pressed the play button, and all the couples moved across the floor gazing into their partners' eyes and dancing around the fireplace in the middle of the room. The Christmas tree lights by the front window added blues, reds, and yellows to the morning glow.

Feet slid to a silent beat during the brief intermission and into the opening bars of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." 

“Hank, look at our dads—they’re actually smiling.”

He looked with her and grinned. "Finally." He drew her closer to his chest. 

Every breath filled with the wood scent of his shirt. She melted into his warmth and let the melody and his movement steer her steps.

Had there been a happier moment in her life? It didn't seem so. She danced with the man of her dreams, and their families, after so many years of fighting, had found peace to celebrate on this golden Christmas morn.


~~

I hope you enjoyed this snippet from my WIP.

Merry Christmas! I hope you find someone special to dance with--spouse, child, grandkid, any warm hand can bring fun and laughter to this season celebrating Jesus' birth.

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If you found any typos in today's post...Mary Vee, (that's me sheepishly grinning), is waving her hand as the guilty party. 

If you have questions or would like this topic discussed in greater detail, let me know in the comment section. I'll gladly do the research and write a post...just for you :)

Mary has moved to Michigan with her husband, closer to her three college kids. She misses the mountains of Montana, but loves seeing family more often. She writes young adult mystery/adventure Christian fiction, is honing marketing and writing skills, and loves to pen missionary and Bible adventure stories on her ministry blog, God Loves Kids.

Visit Mary at her website and her ministry blog to families: God Loves Kids. Or chat on Facebook or Twitter

Pizza with Laurie: Thoughts on Christmas, Chaos, and Praise

In this installment of Pizza with Laurie, I'm inviting you to put the chaos of Christmas aside and take a seat at my table for a slice of warm, cheesy pizza and conversation :)

---

I have this really weird picture in my head of Mary sitting on the couch in her house, counting kicks of the strong baby boy variety. Paying attention to every twinge in her body. Waiting for Jesus to come.

That’s nothing like the picture of her life as she waited for her baby to come. She went from the blissful stages of engagement and planning a wedding to preparing for motherhood. She had lots to plan. Lots to explain. And every time the angels came, they said “Do not be afraid.”

But was she really? Unafraid of what it meant to carry not only a precious little life within her -- but the life of the Messiah she’d read about in the prophecies since she was a little girl? Did it hurt her to have to explain the reality of an Immaculate Conception to doubting friends and family members with shame and condemnation in their eyes? Did it stress her out to be removed from her “nest” to a strange place of limbo for the mandatory census when she should have been scrubbing the proverbial baseboards and putting the finishing touches on her nursery?

Did she have even a fleeting moment of doubt because things didn’t go how she’d always planned?

For many of us, Christmas brings out the crazy. Stomach flus, snowstorms, family drama, cancelled flights, backordered Christmas gifts, burned dinner rolls, blindside divorces, year-end budget cuts, and the frenzy of work parties and church plays create an equation that invites chaos. Things that are out of our control, that ruin our most sparkling expectations for the season -- maybe a little how Mary was naturally inclined to feel as a human being when she brought the Son of God into the world in perhaps the lowliest of places.

And sometimes all of that overshadows the real reason for Christmas cheer, the fact that “God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ.”

I think it’s safe to say Mary had her moments of fear about the whole thing. She was a new mom, after all. But if you look at the Bible and all of its interpretations on the birth of Christ, the most she says on the subject is a passage called The Magnificat, a song of praise.

From Luke 1: “Oh, how my soul praises the Lord. How my spirit rejoices in God my Savior! For he took notice of his lowly servant girl, and from now on all generations will call me blessed. For the Mighty One is holy, and he has done great things for me.”

The chaos of failed expectations, unexpected events, and things beyond our control are an inevitable part of life. Whether everything goes according to plan this year or not, my strong hope and prayer is that we can be like Mary. That in the eerily quiet aftermath of the chaos, hope will push past the rogue voices of loneliness, frustration, and pain as we focus on what the Lord has done for us. And I hope that we will praise Him in the way we love this Christmas.

---

Laurie Tomlinson is a wife and mom from Tulsa, Oklahoma, who enjoys stories of grace in the beautiful mess. 

She is a member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and received the Genesis Award in 2013 (Contemporary) and 2014 (Romance). 

Her work is represented by Rachel Kent of Books & Such Literary.

You can connect with Laurie here:

Facebook - AuthorLaurieTomlinson

Twitter - @LaurieTomlinson

Web - www.LaurieTomlinson.com

A Scene for Christmas - Eisley & Wes

So today starts off a two week series from the Alley cats to you! We would like to 'entertain' you with Christmas memories past, present, or fictional. Today, I'm going to introduce you to two of my FAVORITE characters (who have yet to find a publishing home): Eisley Barrett and Wes Harrison.

Quick note: Eisley has traveled to England to research a family-history mystery and Wes is a reformed British baddy movie star. Eisley's pretty convinced that Wes is a fictional character who offers no risk to her wounded heart. Wes is convinced Eisley is as self-centered and conniving as most of the other women in his circles. They're both pretty wrong - and are just starting to figure it out in this chapter. A little Christmas magic goes a long way :-)

Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy!!

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE (excerpt) 

Eisley wasn’t in Pleasant Gap anymore. If the accents and expensive food didn’t convince her, then the white Christmas lights sprinkled about a magical 14^th century manor house clued her in. She stopped in the doorway and closed her eyes to steady her nerves. Lord, don’t let me embarrass Mr. and Mrs. Harrison, or fall flat on my face, or have another stupid migraine…

She sighed and stepped across the threshold.

Voices murmured into a quiet hum with the music from a string quartet, crystal and silver tinkled like Christmas bells, and the soft breeze from the dance floor whispered against her warm cheeks carrying the scents of cinnamon and berries. Magical. A smooth parade of couples glided across the dance floor, moving to the music like a foggy dream. A rivulet of envy spliced her middle. She’d practically lamed poor Mr. H during his brief dance instructions before the Gala. Proving one thing: Two lessons dost not a dancer make.

The couple in the middle of the room caught her attention. Wes danced with a goddess to match his Adonis persona. Long, smooth legs. Thin, freckle-less arms. A Scarlet O’Hara look-alike wearing a red…towel?  From the flow of it, it couldn’t really be a towel. Maybe an oversized red scarf.

Vivian Barry in the flesh – enough visible, wrinkle-free flesh to model for Victoria’s Secret.  If possible, Vivian was more stunning in person than the magazine photos. Oh to have curves and a waistline like that. Eisley sucked in her stomach and stood up a little straighter. No use. She groaned. Chocolate ice cream was such a traitor.

Daniel Harrison nudged Eisley out of her stupor and whispered, “Would you care to dance, luv?”

            She pressed into his shoulder with her own, curbing a touch of homesickness with his camaraderie. “No thanks, you sweet man. I’ll just stand here and do my dad’s kind of dancing.” Eisley pointed to her black heels. “Tap my toe, nod my head to the beat, and smile as if I know something no one else knows. Believe me, it’s less catastrophic this way.”

Daniel chuckled. “I’ve a mind to like this family of yours.”

Eisley pushed a mock-shudder through her body. “And you think I make a lasting impression? Just wait until you meet my dad and brothers.” She whistled low. “You’ll never be the same.”

            Her attention drifted back to the couple on the dance floor. Wes’s hand rested on the small of Vivian’s back, the awareness of it sending sparks skidding up Eisley’s spine. Stupid hormones. Vivian’s palm touched Wes shoulder, their poise a perfect match. They looked beautiful.
     

     "Like the cover of a storybook.”
            “Pardon?” Daniel asked, leaning closer.
             Eisley nodded toward Wes and Vivian. “The two of them look perfect together, like a fairytale.”
             Eleanor made some noise resembling a growl and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like “wicked witch.”

Eisley bit the inside of her lips to keep from asking, but curiosity unlocked her jawbone. She reached for a glass of water, feigning indifference. “They’ve been together a long time, haven’t they?”

             Eleanor closed her eyes, wearily. “I’ll not deny they’ve had a past, but I certainly hope he’s outgrown her shallow ploys. If he doesn’t have wits enough to steer clear of her, he deserves a sound slap.”
             The thought of Wes Harrison receiving a sound slap tickled a grin and drew her attention back to the dance floor, as the music drew to a close. Just then, Wes’s gaze caught hers. His smile started from one crooked corner and spread all the way across to dimple on the other side.
        

     Oh what a smile. The kind to send embittered women out of their self-imposed spinsterhood. The kind to shatter the singleness of the celibate resolute. The kind that made her knees a little too shaky to ever consider dancing.

He walked toward her, his James Bond appeal growing with each step. Open collared white shirt and black slacks added to the pure attraction. She pinched herself to make sure her imagination hadn’t gotten the better of her. Tall, dark, and dreamy belonged to the lady in the red-towel, right?

A trail of model-look-alikes littered his history and the glamour of brilliant stardom glittered in his future. He lived totally out of her league and danced with a past which mocked hers. But why didn’t the man from the papers match the guy she’d hung out with all day?

She released her clutched breath and offered him a smile. A shared smile for a friendly acquaintance. And only a nice safe acquaintance…with swagger.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Barrett.” Wes took her cool hand into his warm one. “Are you feeling better?”

The candlelight haloed his face, giving his eyes a golden glow, and inviting an intimacy she ignored like the electricity traveling up her arm. She pulled out of his hold and waved away his concern. “Yes, thank you. Please don’t use anything I said during my aura-induced state against me, okay?”

           A dimple flickered in his cheek. “And where’s the fun in that?”

Heat skittered up her spine at the theatrical combination of charm and good lucks. Oh how she loved fiction. “Right. Well, I’m sure your day with a crazy Appalachian provided lots entertainment.”

He closed in and all sorts of strange fireworks shot off in her stomach. Okay so admiration from afar may not be far enough, but this was a perfectly impossible kind of admiration. She could enjoy it while it lasted, since it was perfectly safe and deliciously one-sided. Very movie-like.

 “I haven’t had such a pleasant afternoon in a long time. It must be the company I keep.” He winked, controlled grin honed to perfection. The actor emerges.

Yep, totally fictional.

 

***** And just so you can get a sense of closure, I'll give you the last bit of the scene from Wes' point of view.

 

“Well, if Christmas is the season of miracles, you’ve renewed my faith in them.” She stepped away from him and smiled through her curtsy. “We both survived my first dance.”

The music had ended?

“You seem surprised at your success.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve spent the last eight years of my life with preschoolers as my primary conversational partners. I feel accomplished if I use more than two syllable words in a sentence and don’t end up with kid stains on my clothes. This is definitely a storybook moment for me.”

 Her look of appreciation fed him to his core. The sweetness in her unpretentious joy poured over his raw soul with a healing touch. Somehow by the light of the Christmas glow, he almost believed in miracles again. Even for a reformed scoundrel.

 

 

May the greatest Christmas miracle of all bring hope, peace, and joy to your hearts this Christmas!

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Pepper Basham writes romance peppered with grace and humor. She’s a native of the Blue Ridge Mountains, a mom of five, a speech-language pathologist, and a lover of chocolate. She writes a variety of genres, but enjoys sprinkling her native culture of Appalachia in them all.  She currently resides in the lovely mountains of Asheville, NC where she works with kids with special needs, searches for unique hats, and plots new ways to annoy her wonderful friends at her writing blog, The Writer’s Alley. She is represented by Julie Gwinn and is debuting her first novel in Spring 2015.

 

The Writer's Alley Weekend Round-Up

Photo by geralt @ pixabay.com

Ahhh...the blessed week of Christmas. It's the week of balancing the rush of last minute Christmas shopping and baking, with the beauty of spending time with family and celebrating the birth of Jesus into the world. It's not always an easy juggle, but in the end, the holiday is a special one and can't be denied.

This week the Alley Cats are sharing  Scenes of Christmas. Whether it is a scene from their current work in progress, a favorite book, or from their own lives, our ladies will be sharing their heart with you in the season of gifting.

May you have a Merry Christmas and remember the love of God in giving you the most precious gift of His son. 

The Awesome Link Round-Up

Library Journal Announces Christian Fiction Awards (Christian Retailing)

Laying Motifs in Your Novel For Powerful Effect (Live Write Thrive)

Surviving Criticism Without Losing Confidence in Your Writing (Positive Writer)

Favorite Digital Media Products in 2014 (Jane Friedman)

10 Essential Quotes on Becoming a Writer (The Write Practice)

How to Schedule Your Holiday Writing Time (Writer UnBoxed)

7 Questions That Will Transform Your Writing in the New Year (The Write Practice)

Am I Attractive?

Okay, so the title here is deliberately provoking, though not entirely misleading.

I’m not referencing appearance, not really, though I suppose that might hold some weight. No, what I’m talking about here is how you come off, what impression do you give? Who are you attracting and why?

Confused? Where to begin… oh yes. The point. We live in a social media age which means our lives, and so many details that years ago would have been private, now simply aren’t. And we have only ourselves (and perhaps Mark Zuckerberg creator of Facebook) to blame.

 

hellogiggles.com

We share anecdotes from our day. We post selfies of our new haircut. We detail what we are preparing for dinner. Shoot, some people even go so far as to pinpoint exactly which restaurant they are eating at, which gym on what street corner they frequent each morning, and even where they are dropping their kids off for school. Some of these things are innocent. Some are not. And we really do need to be careful about not just knowing our audience, but also being conscious of how we present ourselves. I’ve read posts about how to make the most of your social media presence. How to boost your platform. Even social media etiquette which might have some crossover here.

But the bottom line is… your social media pages are like your very own ad space.  

So what are you advertising?

I conducted a little experiment, trying to as objective as possible. I decided to look back over my posts for the past few years and see what kind of impression I could glean from my social media presence. These snippets and snapshots of my life showed an interesting spread of information.

adweek.com

 

On the positive side one would probably observe that I am crazy about my kids. I may have crossed over the line into that annoying proud mama but people seem to respond well to the funny quips from my tots and the sweet lil daily pics of my miracle baby. One might also see from my advertisement that I seem to occasionally read the Bible and post something inspirational in nature. In fact, you could probably timeline it and determine which times in my life I am clinging to scripture and walking through a trial, and which times I am being a lazy Christian riding through my daily routine. And Facebook is actually quite the statistical resource. How many likes, how many comments? I was connecting with people in a mostly positive way and the results were right there in the numbers. Neato!

On the negative, the reason I started Facebooking (I’m sure that has got to be a word now, right?) was for writing. And sadly, the amount of time that I dedicate to that particular subject seems to have dwindled significantly since the arrival of my third child.

So if my purpose is to build a platform, and possibly publish a book someday, what will a publisher think of my page? What will they think of yours? Do you spend your time griping about deadlines? Moaning about all the ways you procrastinated today? How you just don’t have the time? How unmotivated you are?

Or maybe you shared a review, helped promote a friend’s new book, and posted an enthusiastically high word count for the day? Perhaps you were totally stressed but something simple made you stop and smile. Maybe you just found a way to deal with all the world threw at you that day. None of those things are right or wrong.

 

All this rambling is meant to encourage you take a step back and evaluate something that has spun out of control, and not necessarily in a bad way. We can CONNECT with so many people previously beyond our reach! It’s an amazing networking tool. Especially for a writer!!!

BUT remember that every time you post, you are advertising yourself. How do you look? Are you attractive? Do you come across self-involved or vain? Grateful? Excited or grudging? Overwhelmed? And who are you hoping to attract?

Now, I’m not suggesting you misrepresent yourself. Your personality whether sarcastic or timid should be something that shines through. But while I’m preparing for the celebration of Jesus’s birth, pulling back to focus on all the ways God has blessed me this year and all the ways I’ve stumbled through my wonderfully messy life, I turned a critical eye back on myself and took a good long look.

And I had to ask myself…. Am I attractive? Do my words and opinions unite or divide? Am I being a light? Would my spouse like what I’m sharing? Would a potential employer? My friends and family? Is God pleased with who I am showing the world? Is it who I really am?

What about you? Are you brave enough to take an honest look? Try it… In one short sitting, review your social media sites. What does your Facebook page say about you? Can you name one flattering and one un-flattering thing you’ve discovered about your ad space? This might seem like a pointless exercise but it’s actually quite enlightening. Now that’s a selfie you should probably take just for you. :)

 

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Amy Leigh Simpson is a writer, singer, runner, foodie, coffee-lovin’-chocoholic. When she’s not dreaming up saucy love stories sprinkled with suspense and mystery, she’s chasing around her two adorable tow-headed toddler miscreants (Ahem)—boys, playing dress up with her miracle princess baby, and being the very blessed wife to the coolest, most hunky hero on the planet (sorry, ladies—taken). Though Amy doesn’t use her Sports Medicine degree for anything but patching up daily boo boo’s, she enjoys weaving medical aspects into her writing. Represented by the oh-so-wise and dashing Chip MacGregor of MacGregor Literary Inc.