Confession Session - Sundays

I love Christian fiction. I really do.

I love that they're clean. That words I'd rather not have as part of my vocabulary won't worm their way into my mind as I read them in the text. That the romance is focused on love, not lust. That the deeper meaning to life comes across. That there is always hope, no matter what genre I'm reading.

But one thing I don't love about Christian fiction is the Sunday sermon. I don't know why, but I always end up skimming those sections or even skipping them altogether.

In fact, I think because I don't like to read them, I don't like to write them, so most of the time I actually forget about Sundays when I'm writing. Which--considering the fact that I try to avoid conducting business on Sundays and try to work the same into my books--can make for some pretty interesting editing as I pull out a calendar and put Sundays back in.

What is one thing you love about Christian fiction? Or one thing you don't?

Thoughts on Twilight

A month or so ago, the latest movie in the Twilight series released. You probably saw news articles about women of all ages camped out in California for days on end, sporting “Be safe” tattoos or shirts with “I love Edward” scrawled across the front in marker. Were you with them in spirit, or did it make you shake your head in disgust?

Personally, I enjoyed the books. Except for the last one, which I pretty much hated, but that’s a different topic. I get that people loved the story. I do NOT get the obsessive fans, like the ones who are now having marital problems because they fawn so much over these fictional heroes.

How did that hero worship happen? How does a book or a movie spawn this kind of following? I really doubt that was Meyer’s intention. It might actually be a little creepy to her to have fans love her characters even more than she does.

I have to wonder what would have happened if Meyer was a Christian and reflected that in the series. I do respect that she put some morals in there—no drugs, no sex before marriage for Edward and Bella—but what if she went further? What if when Edward left and Bella hit rock bottom, Jacob helped her realize that GOD needed to be her everything? If Meyer put God first in the story—the true God—would fans become more interested in learning about Jesus Christ than in debating Team Jacob or Team Edward?

It's something to think about. I'm not likely to see any of my stories in film, but if I did, I don't ever want my fans to make fools of themselves or jeopordize their real life relationships over a product of my imagination. I want to make sure the shining star in the story is Jesus.

Have you read any novels lately that helped you to see your relationship with Him in a new light or challenged your spiritual walk in some way?

Let Me Introduce...

All of my two readers probably already know about my writer buddy and co-author, Tracy Bowen. But I don't think I've ever introduced her properly.

Meet Tracy: The mother of four very funny boys. The wife of an even funnier husband--I'm talking stand-up comedian funny. The owner of the largest assortment of flipflops I have ever seen. The fryer of some really awesome chicken. The decorater of many a banquet. And the woman with a sense of humor and writer's brain and personality that perfectly complements mine. It's such a pleasure writing with her. I miss her when we're not involved in a project!

How did we get started?

Tracy and I were choir buddies, hanging out in the alto section, talking when the director wasn't looking. (I could do that--the director just happened to be my father.) I also followed Tracy's blog (don't look for it--she hasn't updated in ages. lol. But a new one is coming soon!), and she always managed to crack me up with her unique take on things or her drama queen storytelling skills. It helped, of course, that she had plenty of real-life fodder to pull from. Surviving an airplane crash in a soybean field in Santa Claus, GA, for example.

One day, Tracy mentioned she'd love to write a book. At that time, the chick lit genre was all the rage, with its snarky heroines and light-hearted take on life. In my idea file was this little tidbit I really wanted to take somewhere that would fit perfectly in the chick lit world. But I'd tried to write a romantic comedy already, and though I called it funny, an editor called it slapstick, which equaled a rejection. So one more funny blog from Tracy, and I was ready with a proposal.

"I have this idea. What would you think about writing it with me?" Tracy was game. After a long brainstorming session during an even longer walk on the beach (which took my feet a few days to recover from), we had a story.

After much research, we came up with a "contract" for co-writing. With a plan in place, we figured we wouldn't end up suing each other or getting into random cat fights during choir practice. Tracy Bowen and Jenness Walker were now officially writing partners.

It took a while. We did character sketches. We experimented with writing processes. We finally settled into a system that has worked well for us. (Tracy writes the skeleton of a scene, complete with her great one-liners; I come along and flesh it out while she works on the next section. I send my stuff back, she agrees or points out any issues, etc.) We submitted the first three chapters to a writing contest and Bliss placed in the Genesis Contest. The writing was slow, but we made progress.

Soon we signed with my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray from Hartline Literary Agency. We went out to dinner at a steakhouse to celebrate. And we didn't spill A-1 on the contract, either. Then we went back to writing.

When we were a couple chapters from the end, we took an editing retreat. At a country inn about 30 minutes from home, we sat on our twin beds for two days. Tracy read from the printed copy on her lap. I followed along and made approved changed on the laptop. Then, while I implemented the more involved changes, she whipped out the skeleton for the rest of the book. It was a crazy couple days, let me tell ya. But the end result? Tons of fun.

While we waited for Bliss to find a home, we started another project, then got involved in the group project I blogged about last week. Then, just in the past couple months, we got some news on Bliss again. The chick lit boom has faded, so though we did get some interest in it from a big house previously, they couldn't make a place for Bliss. So when a start-up company with a different type of publishing model (similar to the one Marcher Lord Press is using) made us an offer, we decided to go for it. Last month we signed a contract and Bliss should be released later this year. I'll post more details when I can.

Meanwhile, Tracy and I are working on creating a joint blog/website. We had a kind of an impromptu photo shoot together with Erica from Erica J Photography. We revised Bliss and are working on some marketing stuff for it as the release date looms.

Now my awesome writing buddy has started a project on her own, as well. It's non-fiction, and it's so cool to see how she's grown as a writer. As for me, we both cheer when I manage to make a funny all by myself. :-) Even though we both have separate works-in-progress and plans for many more, we love writing together. It was amazing how we never argued once through this entire process. We had very few differences, but when we didn't see quite eye to eye, it still never got to the place where we had to bust out our co-author contract to see who got to make the final decision. It's been a great experience having a built-in brainstorming buddy, encourager and accountability partner, and it's a partnership we plan to continue indefinitely.

Thanks, Tracy, for being such a great friend and co-author. Couldn't have asked for a better one!

Group Therapy

You usually hear about how writing is a solitary occupation. And that's true in a lot of ways. No one else can write your story for you. No one else can really weave everything together or tell it in your individual voice. It takes you and your computer or notebook, and a whole lot of time in the chair. Or the couch, in my case.

But there are times when being a writer brings you together with other writers in really cool ways. Fast friendships, mentorships, lots of laughs and prayer and understanding. I've already talked about that quite a bit on here. Now I have a new group thing to add to the list: a group proposal.

A group of authors worked out a proposal for a series. We discussed town names and called dibs on character names and occupations, came up with some businesses, and settled on a series of stories set in a small town and including some key characters. Then each individual author (or co-authors, in my case, since I'm writing with Tracy) wrote up summaries for our own stories for the series, our fearless leader formatted them, we gave our bios and other odds and ends, and, finally, submitted a sample chapter.

And now we wait.

Working with a group like this has been different--it's definitely more involved than working with only one co-author. You have a group ready to give opinions, so there's a lot of debate, but there are also a lot of ideas. You have to work around other people's plots, make sure your town map is the same and your characters are consistent. But you also have the other author's backgrounds and audience to pull from. You're not going to be alone in your attempts to promote your book. There's a whole group of authors who want the series to succeed, so you kind of have your own marketing team.

The proposal has garnered some interest, but again, we just have to wait and see. If it's accepted, we'll have a virtual party, I'm sure. And if it's not, there are about ten of us who can console and commiserate with each other. Whether or not this project goes anywhere, it's been a very interesting and fun experience.

Pitching Lessons

With the announcement of the Carol Award finalists, I'm thinking about the ACFW conference. The one I'm going to miss this year...Sigh. Anyway, with that in mind, I thought I'd rehash the wonders of pitching by reposting something I wrote for my friend Lynda Schab's blog last year.

For those of you who have never had an agent or editor appointment, let me give you an idea of what it’s like. First, let me give you an illustration, because my husband was a ministerial student and I still get illustrations for everything...

Pitching is like cleaning a Jacuzzi—awkward. All gangly legs and cramping muscles and odd grunts. Believe me, I know. I’ve cleaned many Jacuzzis and hurt myself in about a dozen ways. Either by slipping on water while I’m straddling the thing as I try to climb out, or falling into the waist-deep tub as I try to scrub the other side, or conking my head on the faucet, etc. There have been other uncomfortable moments as well. Like when I’m crouched in the middle of it, cleaning the little jets, when my employer walks in. Stares in shock. Then laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were taking a bath.” Um, yeah. I’m one of those stop-and-smell-the-roses-or-take-a-dip type people.

So, that’s kind of what it feels like to pitch. For those of you who must have specific details, here ya go:

Step one: After months of hammering out your pitch, you wake up early the morning of the appointment, unable to fall back to sleep as your mind races a mile a minute. What if they ask about possible endorsements? Does your mother count? Should the serial killer really be the brother? Or should you make him an alien, just to go for that unique hook publishers are always looking for?

Step two: You make sure all your notes are handy, in some semi-organized fashion in your notebook so you have all possible answers at your fingertips. The conference already supplied your name-tag with your name and genre plastered in big bold letters across your chest. That could come in handy, just in case you forget.

Step three: You head down to breakfast, but can’t really eat because the butterflies are morphing into bats as the minutes march onward. You sing during worship time—you think—but, by the looks of the people around you, were probably in the wrong key. Or maybe just off rhythm, since all you can hear is your sporadic heartbeat thudding in your ears.

Step four: You follow the crowd to your first session, but don’t hear a word of the lecture that you had figured would be worth the entire conference fee. Thirty minutes into it, you scramble out of there in time to grab a dozen Tylenol, a bottle of water, and run over your cheat sheet one more time before your appointment.

Step five: They’re running a little late, so you stand in the hallway guzzling your water. Of course, by the time you’re up, you need to run to the ladies’ room. But you don’t.

Step six: You step inside the little room, gulp as the wanna-be author before you runs out sobbing, and sit at the table. You’re itching to take out your notebook, because you’ve just come up with the next best-seller—a handbook to all the symptoms of nervousness that are humanly possibly. Let’s see, there’s chattering teeth, fluttery tummy, nervous twitches, shaking limbs, strep-like tightness in the throat, hot flashes, cold flashes, oh, and you really, really need that trip to the girls’ room.

Step seven: Sinking into the chair, you try to remember what you’ve been told and find yourself silently chanting, “Editors are humans, too. Editors are humans, too.” The editor (Big E from here on) smiles at you expectantly, and you stumble through an intro, ending with a half-whiney, “I’ve never done this before” or “I’m really bad at this…” Though Big E probably wants to nod in agreement, he holds his smile and asks what you’re working on. Working on? Suddenly you can’t remember what you’ve spent the last year and a half agonizing over. Your hero that you’ve fallen in love with…what was his name again? In desperation you grab for your one sheet and shove it across the table. “Here.”

Step eight: Big E slips on his reading glasses and pretends to read your little summary. It’s witty, succinct, fascinating. A best-seller for sure. He “hmms” a couple times, then looks up. You take a deep breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you wheeze, and itching to jot that down as another symptom to put in your non-fiction book. But you’ve finally remembered why your story is so awesome, and you’re ready to answer any question he might throw your way and then sign the contract he’s surely going to shove across the desk. He opens his mouth—here it comes—and asks, “Did your co-author really survive a plane crash?” Um…yup.

Step nine: That final, telling moment. You’ve already passed your Dove chocolates across the table. Will that be enough? Or should you have splurged for Harry and David’s instead? Big E taps the paper a couple times. Then requests that you send your proposal. Or doesn’t.

Either way, they eat your chocolates. But they don’t eat you.

Moral of the story: Remember, sitting across from an agent or editor is kind of like being caught cleaning the Jacuzzi. So, if you are going to pitch, my advice would be to maintain your sense of humor, pray you’ll keep your balance, and be ready for anything.

Disclaimers: Chocolates are not actually required. Not all writers react the same way. Some of these facts may have been embellished. A bit. Maybe.

Mentors

So, I posted the list of the Carol Award finalists, and you might have noticed it happened to have my name on it. :-) Well, it also had a couple of special writers who have served as mentors to me, and so I thought I'd do a little shout-out to them and to others who have encouraged or strengthened my writing over the years.

1. Mr. Holden--My seventh grade teacher who wrote drilled prepositional phrases into me and once wrote a note at the top of my paper, saying that God needed a writer like me.

2. Mrs. Wright--My high school English teacher who wasn't stingy with praise but was definitely prepared to show me I hadn't arrived quite yet.

3. Daphne Hogstrom--My correspondence course teacher who didn't hate me for my procrastinating ways, taught me about POV shifts, and almost got invited to my wedding since she put up with me for so long.

4. Donna Fleisher--Published novelist and freelance editor who critiqued my first finished book-sized manuscript. I learned SO much from the notes in the margin and the four tapes she made explaining her thoughts and various rules, etc. She was such a vital part in taking me to the next level in my writing. AND she became a wonderful friend.

5. Susan May Warren (a Carol Award double finalist)--Though I'd written and rewritten my first manuscript and my rejection letters were getting nicer, I still hadn't landed an agent when I went to my first writers' conference. I was disappointed since Susan's editing slots had filled up. When she found that out, she took my first chapter (my WAY too long first chapter) and read through it during one of the meals, adding comments and then talking to me about it later. One the first page she wrote that I could definitely write, which is exactly the encouragement I needed then. Now, I'm involved in Susan's My Book Therapy organization, which has chats on Monday nights about the writing craft, holds retreats, has an ezine, etc. As far as mentors go, Susie's at the top of the pile. :-)

6. Rachel Hauck (a Carol Award finalist)--Rachel's also involved in My Book Therapy and taught at the retreat I went to in February. Rachel is the one who asked me to do the devotional at last year's conference and who encouraged me and prayed for me and offered to stand on the platform beside me when the nerves hit big-time. She talked to me about agents when I had questions. She looked over the first chapter of my most recent work-in-progress. She met Tracy and I for lunch and just talked writing and everything else.

7. Then there are all the contest judges, like Meredith Efken and Gina Welborn and many anonymous others who have been willing to volunteer their time to critique my contest entries and give me valuable feedback.

I'm sure I'm missing some, and, of course, there are all of my wonderful critique partners, but that's another post altogether. But I just wanted to thank you all so much for how you have helped me to grow as a writer. Thank you for all the time you've given, and for all the encouragement and wisdom and advice.

You are very appreciated.

Creativity and the Soul

Okay, folks, I'm going to cheat again, sort of. I did blog on this subject, but to read it, go here. I'm blogging with some writer buddies now (The Ponderers), and this is my first post over there. Tell me what you think. Oh, and there's a contest with lots of goodies, so make sure to check it out!

Dream Writing Room III

My sister-in-law says I'm cheating--that I'm taking the easy way out by posting pics and pretty much no content on my blog. But my husband is getting an office, so I guess this is me dreaming. And since pictures speak a thousand words, I figure I'm getting in a pretty good word count. So there. lol


These are just a couple fun organizing ideas. I think I got them from Better Homes and Gardens:








Honestly, though, my couch isn't so awful to write on. It would be nice to shut the door on my mess, however. I'd even be happy with a closet...

Especially a closet like this one!


Monday I'll probably post some decorating blog links that I like. I'd love to see some of your favorites, too! And then I promise I'll write a real blog post. If I make it boring enough, you might vote for pictures again. :-)

Dream Writing Room II

So, it's been established that I want lots of cubbies. :-) Next, I want a table. Something big enough to spread out research or totally unrelated craft-type projects, or even wrap presents. Because, you see, my writing room will also need to be messy room, because my husband would appreciate it if I try to contain my piles to one area. Ha. So here are some possibilities...



I've always loved these kinds of tables with bench seating.


This table is a little too long, but think of all the projects you could have going at once! :-)

This one seems to be a really good use of space. I might be leaning toward this one, but I'm not sure.

Confession time--have I got you looking for ideas now?

Dream Writing Room

If I wasn't blessed (or cursed?) with a super-active imagination, I would have loved to pursue interior decorating. But now I just dream. :-) And right now, for fun, I'm looking at great rooms for writing. Here are a few I've found so far. I love all the cubbies and the organization.

And I love the reading chair and ottoman in the corner. That's a must. :-)

More coming. And watch out, fellow writers. I'm going to be tagging you to find out your dream writing rooms!

And for my FOUR (yes! I'm up to at least four!) readers, what rooms are you dreaming of? Pictures, please! :-) Leave links in the comments section--I'd love to see them.

Hard-Hearted Hattie

No, I have not changed my name to Hattie. It just kinda went with the whole alliteration thing. And no, I don't think I'm hard-hearted. But then again...am I? That is the question I'm bringing to you. :-)

I was out shopping the other day and saw something. Now, I am not a very observant person. In fact, I missed a fight and arrest right outside the window at a fast-food restaurant once--My husband even went outside to see if he could help, and I sat staring in the opposite direction, clueless. But this time, I was paying attention. Nothing quite so dramatic, but still...

Here's the scooop. I was standing in line at customer service. There were four women working behind the counter. One at a cash register asked who was next. The man in front of me stepped over to her, but when she asked if she could help him, he waved at one of the women whose back was to him. "No," he said. "I'm just here to see - - - -." I couldn't hear the rest.

So, still waiting and a little bored, I watched the girl he'd gestured to. She didn't turn around. She seemed intent on the computer screen in front of her, but then her hands went up to her hair. Stayed there, pressing into her head.

And I began to really pay attention. Frustrated at the computer? Or angry that this man had come? She still wasn't turning around. He stepped aside a little and waited.

Then her hands came down to cover her face. Still not looking at him or saying a word, she left her station. Crying. The woman who was working with her stayed beside the girl, escorted her to the break room. The man shrugged, arms open wide. And then he walked away.

He was her father.

So...as a writer, I was watching, and my mind was flipping through different scenarios. Making up plot lines. Thinking, I can use this somewhere...

And then I got to thinking that maybe I'm an alien. :-) The human race is only fodder, inspiration for whatever world I want to create in my head. I'll dissect them, see what makes them react certain ways, see what I can do to make things worse before a hard-fought happily ever after comes around. If it does.

What do you think? Alien? Heartless? Or do people in other fields do this kind of thing, too--analyzing to satisfy professional curiosity or something? And, just for the record, a little bit of compassion did kick in later. But the moment I'd care the most...would be the moment I wrote it into a book.

So what's the verdict?

Graduating

It's that time of year. I can hear the sedate march music, see the robes in various states of wrinklehood, smell the bouquets of roses. Graduation time is here.


I don't remember graduating from kindergarten. I'm not even sure that I did. In eighth grade, they did kind of a talent show type thing along with the ceremony. I played the clarinet and was so nervous my tassle shook the entire song. My high school graduation was sad but exciting. My class had become pretty close, but we were ready to move on. Most of my classmates went into the medical field. Still trying to figure out how that happened. I'm officially afraid to go to the ER, because I just might know the person poking me with needles, might have seen them drooling on their pillow during class trip or something.


I graduated from college...twice! I was definitely ready to be done. I'd rather choose my own topics to research. Like women fighting during the Civil War or what '68 Camaros look like or what the daily schedule is on death row or how to make a murder look like a suicide. Doesn't that sound more fascinating than a comparison of Longfellow and Frost or something? :-)


So I'm out of school. Not wearing the gown this year. BUT in some ways I guess you're never really done, are you? In the writing world, there are four levels of writers, according to Randy Ingermanson (aka The Snowflake Guy). But even those who have graduated still attend writing conferences...and take notes! I've heard of beginning writers finding themselves sitting next to pros, like one who said she watched Francine Rivers at a conference, dutifully taking notes.

Life is like that, right? No matter how much you think you know, there is still so much more. That's what keeps things interesting. True, it can overwhelm at times, but it's invigorating when something new clicks, giving you an amazing Ah-ha! moment. And we can learn from people, no matter what their grade in life. I was a contest judge last fall and found myself wanting to copy down some phrases in one entry's action sequence. Here I am, the judge, and this entry was giving me new ideas when I'd hit a wall in my own writing. (Don't worry. I didn't plagerize.)

Never be too proud to listen, to learn. If you ever think you've arrived, well...maybe it's time you went back to school.