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Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Sometimes it’s hard to wade through all the words on the Web and find the treasures among the trash.

Let me help you.

I’ve read some great posts lately that challenge and encourage and inspire me. My hope is that they’d do the same for you.

Here are five posts (and some excerpts from their posts) you should take time to read this weekend.

1. When Love is the Last Thing You Feel by Alison McLennan. I was touched by these words that challenged me to keep loving when it’s hard.

“Which is the greater sacrifice: to keep a vow when keeping it is a pleasure, or to keep a vow when keeping it takes everything you have?”

I don’t know, in God’s economy, if one is greater than the other. Certainly it is a divine gift to love with ease, to take pleasure in our work, to pour ourselves out for others and find joy in serving.

But what about when we don’t? Is it any less of a gift to labor in those things?

2. #scotus and other stuff by Erika Morrison. (the life artist) Ever disagreed with someone about a controversial issue? Yeah, here’s a good guideline for how to survive that as friends.

So this is my guideline for myself, take it or leave it; adjust and tweak if you so desire: Pray down low. Don’t move until you’ve changed. Suspend your assumptions and walk yourself to the inside of someone else’s skin and story. See that everyone is carrying the weight of their own history; an entire world riding piggy on their backs and everyone is fighting their own battles, wearing their own scars, bleeding from their own wounds, pushing through their own struggles. And move those real live people from the coldness of your cranium to the beating place between your ribs bones and share food and communion there. Look into each other’s soul-windows and watch the Messiah materialize in the image they bear. Hold hands and hug for dear life – all we’ve got is each other. And maybe from this place of kindness and safety, thoughts and convictions can be mutually shared without scathe or savagery or “you’re stupid” words.

3. I hate this day by J.J. Landis. Written in the wake of a local tragedy, J.J. is frank about how our efforts to comfort fall short.

I know in my head what I believe about how the world works. I know we’re fallen and sin screws us up. I know people die, but seriously, it really sucks.

4. Why I Don’t Believe in Grace Anymore by Dr. Kelly Flanagan. Hands-down, when Kelly writes something, I want to read it. This is one of two he wrote recently that I could have recommended.

This is the brilliance of grace: it welcomes our darkness into the light and does nothing to it, knowing that it doesn’t have to, because darkness thrives on hiddenness, and it’s at the mercy of the light. Light drives out darkness, not the other way around.

When we no longer have to push our darkness back down beneath layers of shame our darkness doesn’t stand a chance.

5. Independence by Heather B. Armstrong (dooce). (Warning: This post contains pictures taken inside brothels in Southeast Asia. They are appropriately shocking, but I don’t want them to come as a surprise.) Yes, it’s an uncomfortable subject and it’s hard to talk about and look at, but that’s one reason I’m so glad there are bloggers out there like her who do their part to shine a light on this perverse evil.

Often when we think of that freedom we immediately go to thoughts of our right to free speech, to peaceably assemble, the free exercise of religion and the right to bear arms. I would guess that rarely do we seriously reflect on some of the very basic privileges afforded to us as well: the ability to leave our rooms and homes, the ability to live with our families and the years spent watching them grow, freedom from having to sell our bodies for sex.

Read more: http://dooce.com/2014/07/02/independence/#ixzz37ftn0ZCF

What would you add to this list?

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I did something this week that I’ve only dreamed of. I wrote “the end” on a story I’ve been crafting for years now.

The End fancy

I knew it was coming soon; I just wasn’t sure how soon. And I know that might sound weird but if I’ve learned anything from this process of writing a novel, it’s that it’s nothing like I expected. I can’t explain how it happens, that even though I’m the one writing the story, I still didn’t know when it would end.

What has surprised me most is the outpouring of support and enthusiasm I’ve received from family and friends and Facebook acquaintances. I have written a book that needs a lot of work and is far from finished and yet people tell me they can’t wait to read it.

That’s frightening. And humbling. And encouraging. But mostly frightening.

They are cheering me on and I’m not even sure the game has started. I still feel like a spectator sometimes, watching other people pursue their dreams, or if not a spectator then a benchwarmer. I’m observing, learning and waiting my turn.

So these people, the ones who encourage and cheer like I’m actually already in the game, they scare me with their unconditional belief in me. Or maybe they can see something I can’t. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it because then I might turn in my uniform altogether and try to forget I ever thought I could do this.

Because I don’t want to disappoint people. It’s okay if I disappoint myself. I’m used to that. But those cheerleaders? Bless them. I don’t want to let them down. And I’m afraid that I’ve written a big pile of stinky manure and the cheerleaders will hold their noses and turn away when they realize what it is.

Or that they’ll give up cheering because it might be a while before these words go public.

Writing is a marathon sport. Even if the novel was ready today, I couldn’t publish it tomorrow. Even if I had a contract from a publisher that I signed today, it might be a year or more before the book became something I could hold in my hands.

So, I’m afraid these dear people trust me too much and expect too much and will give up when the journey is long. I’m afraid of the same things for myself: that I put too much pressure on me, that I expect too much too soon, that I will give up when the waiting is long.

Please don’t stop encouraging me. Having written the two most important words of the novel–the end–is really just the beginning. A lot of hard work is behind me but a lot of hard work is yet to come.

I wish I could tell you that this book will be published and give you a date. I wish I could show it to you in all its edited, cleaned up glory. I wish writing “the end” meant it was truly over.

But it’s not.

So just hang on with me? Wherever this writing journey takes me, if you’re willing to stick it out and come along, I’m glad to have you. I can’t promise it’ll always be exciting. Some days it might be downright depressing. But it won’t be boring.

It means the world to me to have people in my corner. If that’s you, then thank you. I’ll keep you updated when I know what’s next. In the meantime, you can pray that I would see where God is leading and be faithful with the time and words He gives me to write.

Again, thank you. We’re in this together, and I couldn’t do it without you.

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It’s been a decade since an unbelievable opportunity fell in my lap. A gift that changed my life forever.

It just so happens to be the same amount of time since I became an “us” with my husband. In 2004, we started dating. In a few days, we celebrate seven years of marriage. But the life-changing opportunity happened a week before he made his move to start dating me.

This week, 10 years ago, God made his move in the mountains of North Carolina.

I’ve been seeing on social media posts and pictures and plans for the Blue Ridge Mountains Writers Conference. It’s a conference near and dear to my heart because it was there that God showed me the possibilities. It was there that He planted the seed of what writing could mean in my life.

But that’s getting a little bit ahead of things.

I’ve been reading Restless by Jennie Allen these past few months, and in that book, she talks about threads in your life and experiences that shape those threads. And in looking back over all of my 36 years, the times I’ve been most fulfilled are related to writing. So, whether I knew it or not, I think I’ve always been a writer. I remember filling notebooks with handwritten stories and forcing those notebooks on unsuspecting guests at our house, silently begging them to read what I’d written and to tell me it was good. (I think I’m still doing that sometimes.)

And when I worked as a journalist all those years after college, I was most satisfied by stories that made a difference. Some won awards, some didn’t, but always, always, I was filled by telling other people’s stories.

It was during those journalistic years that I was approached by a generous couple with an offer to attend the Blue Ridge Mountains Writers Conference, all expenses paid by them, to further my writing career. Even typing those words a decade later I’m still in shock at the offer. (P.S. I lived in Illinois at the time, so it’s not like it was close.) I had no clue what a writers conference was or why I should go but when someone offers to pay your way to spend some days in North Carolina, you say “yes.”

It was scary and thrilling and overwhelming all at the same time, and I wish I could go back and appreciate the experience for what it was.

Because in truth I had no idea there were so many Christian authors and because I was clueless and didn’t know any of the authors or what they’d written, I had no episodes of being starstruck. (Though I’m sure if I went back and looked over the names, I would smack myself on the head for not being more in tune with Christian publishing.)

See, at the time, I was a journalist. I’d been a journalist for four years and I had no plans to stop being a journalist or any energy to do more writing in my “free” time. I’d dreamed of maybe writing books someday, but that’s all it was: a dream. One writer asked me why I was there and my answer was an emphatic: I have no idea.

Sometimes I think I wasted that chance, but when I look at the experience as part of the whole journey, it really was just the beginning of something bigger.

I would love to go back someday but now I’m worried I have too much information and would still squander the opportunity. Now, I know more and I’m intimidated by conferences and expectations and meetings with authors and agents and the like. Now, I have words I’d like to see published and the risk of rejection is greater. When you have nothing in the way of goals, you risk nothing, and that’s what my first experience with the Blue Ridge Mountains Writers Conference was for me: low-risk.

But there I met people like me. People who had worked as journalists and now wrote books. People with stories bubbling inside of them. People who’d traveled the publishing path and were passing on knowledge. I still remember some of the tips from the workshops and encouragement from other writers.

It was the beginning of a journey, but I didn’t know it at the time.

But do we ever know when the journey starts?

In the last year, I’ve begun taking my writing more seriously. Yes, I’ve blogged for years but that’s always been for me first. An outlet I needed in the midst of  the early years of motherhood. If no one had ever read a word, I still would have written because I needed it.

But for years I’ve also been working on a novel. A very part-time effort that at times seemed to have no end. That’s changing, and it’s scary sometimes. I’m writing and pursuing ideas and making intentional efforts to connect with other writers and share my progress and learn about storytelling. A published novel is still very much a dream. Attending a conference has been almost impossible these past few years but it’s no longer completely out of reach.

Which is why I’ve been thinking back on that first conference.

Ten years seems like a really long time. And sometimes I wonder if I could have done more sooner. If I should have done more sooner. If I’ve missed my chance or if my chance is still out there.

I don’t know if God made me a writer at birth or not, but He has birthed something in me.

And for years He’s been building the writer in me, one brick at a time.

I’m sad and hopeful, frustrated and excited, discouraged and giddy about this crazy writing journey. I have no map or destination. I’m unfamiliar with the route. But I know where I’ve been, and I don’t think I’m lost. Not anymore. I’m seeing signs that I’m on the right path, wherever it might lead.

I have wanted to give up on it. I have wanted to call it a silly little dream. I have wanted my calling to be anything else because certainly anything else would be easier.

But I can’t. And it isn’t. And it wouldn’t be.

Sometimes, to keep moving forward, you need to look back and see where you’ve been.

That’s where I’m at this week. Looking back so I remember to keep moving forward.

(And trying not to be jealous of anyone spending the week in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Mountains+writing=bliss.)

How are your dreams coming along these days?

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I’m honored to be a guest at Ritty’s Adventures in Writing today.

“When do you put ‘writer’ on your business card?”

I was about to teach a workshop at a writers conference when a woman in the front row asked me this question. I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly, so I asked her to repeat it.

It seemed an easy question to answer, and I gave her an easy response. But the question is more complicated than I made it. My own writing journey testifies to this. I’ve had business cards that say “writer, editor and speaker” on them for years, but that doesn’t mean I always believe I’m any of those things.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

In college, I was a mass communication major. We liked to joke that we were getting a B.S. in B.S. (For the record, I have a B.A.) I didn’t put a lot of thought into my major. I just knew that I liked to write. I took my first creative writing classes in college (and received my first soul-crushing critiques). But college is also where I began to see myself as a writer. And try as I might, I couldn’t deny it.

College is also where I heard a statement about writing that has stuck with me for more than a decade. Jane Friedman, a colleague at my college newspaper who has gone on to be an influential voice in the publishing and writing world offering countless words of wisdom to writers, spoke to a group about her self-discovery as a writer.

She said, “I don’t want to be a writer. I am a writer.”

Powerful stuff.

Read the rest here.

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I’m trying to read more nonfiction. I love stories and I can read fiction fast, but there’s a lot to learn and be challenged by in the nonfiction world, too.

Here are five nonfiction books I’ve read this year that top my list of best of 2013, so far.

1. 7 by Jen Hatmaker. Turned my world upside-down and introduced me to one of my favorite writers out in the book world and the Internet world. Great principles for simplifying your life.

7 cover

2. Wrecked by Jeff Goins. My world was already wrecked when I read this, but it confirmed that God is up to something with us. If you’ve had a life-changing encounter with poverty or justice issues or on a mission trip, this is a good follow-up book for incorporating that experience into the whole of your life.

wrecked cover

3. Sacred Rhythms by Ruth Haley Barton. It’s a book not just to be read but experienced. It’s a guide for establishing rhythms and disciplines into your spiritual practices and living a balanced life.

4. On Writing by Stephen King. I can’t believe it took me till now to read this book. His writing advice and experience is invaluable.

5. Bread & Wine by Shauna Niequist. I know I just reviewed it this week, but her writing style is unique and I’ve never read a book that blends personal experiences, cooking and spirituality so well.

bread and wine cover

What’s on your list of favorites so far this year?

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1. A group of writers. Mine meets tomorrow, and I look forward to this monthly get-together almost every time. When I stopped working as a journalist to be a stay-at-home mom, I lost my group of people who understand what it’s like to live in a writer’s head. Don’t have one of those? I used Google to find mine.

Photo courtesy of Stock Exchange | http://sxc.hu

Photo courtesy of Stock Exchange | http://sxc.hu

2. A supportive family. I’m finding among writers a common element: husbands (or wives) who encourage, support and sometimes even push their writer spouse to follow the dream. They watch the kids, give up the computer and say “yes” to hare-brained ideas.

3. A creative space. My desk is a mess and we have no extra rooms in our house. I want to believe that my creativity would bloom bigger and brighter if I had a room where I could close the door and escape into my fictional world. There are some good ones here.

4. A library of books. I was a reader before I was a writer, although probably not much before. Good stories inspire me to write good stories and how me how it’s done. Bad stories inspire me to write better stories and show me how not to do it. Reading is essential to learning the craft of writing. Click to tweet.

5. A foolish determination. I say “foolish” because often the pursuit of publication, the writing of a novel, the house spent putting words into sentences and paragraphs, looks like wasted time and effort. People will mock. And discourage. And reject. And judge. But the writer who knows what she is called to do and can’t not do it won’t let those things stop her. She might be momentarily discouraged and let doubts fill her mind, but in the end, she will passionately pursue the story.

What would you add to the list?

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Author Ginny Yttrup’s third book, Invisible, released this week. You can read my review of it here.

Today, Ginny stops by to talk about writing, St. Augustine and her journey with God. ginny yttrup

1. How long have you been writing?

I began writing about 20 years ago. I had no education, but I had a dream. I began attending writers conferences, learned all I could, and 17 years into my writing journey, my first book, Words, was published. My writing journey is one of faith and perseverance.

2. Describe your writing routine/schedule.

Well, sadly, I work best under pressure. So typically, I wait until the last minute to begin a manuscript and then I write under panicked circumstances! That means, I’ll write 10-12 hours a day. I’m a slow writer, so I may not accomplish a large word count during that time, but it’s what I do. I’ll wake early—5:30 to 6:00 a.m., grab a cup of coffee, and go back to bed with the coffee and my computer. I’ll write until I feel the need to move.

Because I have major back issues due to reconstructive back surgery several years ago and rods and screws from my shoulder blades to my pelvis, I can’t stay in one position for too long. So once the pain hits, I move. I’ll get up and take a walk or a hot shower and then sit in a chair for a couple of hours and write some more. Then I’ll move back to bed where I can write from a flat position—often with an icepack beneath me.

I’ll write until 6:00 or 7:00 p.m. at the latest. I can’t think after that. Then I’ll go to bed by about 8:00 p.m. and start the whole thing over the next day. Coffee and exercise and chocolate sustain me during those writing months. And God’s mercy envelops me and strengthens me! Also, besides my kids and my housemates, I don’t typically see anyone during those months of writing.

3. In what ways were you inspired by St. Augustine in the writing of Invisible?

Oh, Saint Augustine. I really didn’t like him at first! He seemed like a gluttonous womanizer. But I stumbled upon a quote of his that was so enlightening. It tumbled around in my brain and I couldn’t seem to let it go. The quote is listed, along with two verses, in the beginning of Invisible. I finally picked up his life story—Confessions—and read it. Mind you, this man lived in the fourth century, so I was certain I’d feel no connection to him. But as I read his confession—the sins he struggled with and his transformation through Jesus Christ, I felt like I’d met a soul mate. People are the same through the ages. We are created in the image of God and we live in a fallen world and struggle against our sin nature. We are all the same—uniquely made—but our struggle and, for Christians, our salvation through Christ, is universal. I think if we accepted that fact more readily, we’d see less prejudice in our society.

4. In the book you talk about how important it is not to “edit your life” – how are you living out the power of that statement these days?

I live that statement by attempting to live authentically. I live by a “what you see is what you get” principle. That doesn’t mean that I share everything about my life with everyone. But it does mean that I attempt to live the truth and share the truth when appropriate. Sometimes, I’d much rather edit out the ugly parts of my life rather than share my failures with others or share the pain of my past or present, but God keeps nudging me to speak truth.

5. In what ways is God calling you out of hiding these days, calling you not to try and be “invisible,” calling you to live out the reality of Imago Dei in your life?

Ah…living life “visible” is one of my greatest challenges. I’d much rather hide away. MUCH rather! Yet God…  As I look back on my life, I realize now that God’s been calling me out of hiding my entire life. As an abused child—one who was sexually abused between the ages of 2 and 14, I never wanted to do anything but hide. I couldn’t tell the truth. I hated who I was. School was torture for me. I attended 5 different schools during my elementary years—so I was always the new girl and I was painfully shy. I hid behind that shyness and all that pain.

As a teenager, I hid behind alcohol and drugs.

These days, whenever I feel like hiding, I push myself out. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have days where I want to stay home—so I do—but instead, I’ve learned the difference between being an introvert who recharges by spending quiet time alone, and being asked to do something or go somewhere and letting fear keep me bound.

The two most personally challenging ways I’m visible these days is through marketing my books—that act of stewardship of the message God’s given me that so often feels like self-promotion. And through speaking to groups. The fact that I speak at events and retreats is simply one of God’s healing miracles in my life.

But it becomes easier and easier to live life in front of others when I take my eyes off myself—die to self—and instead focus on who God is and who He created me to be. I am created in His image! When I hide in shame—I hide Him too. I no longer want to do that. Instead, I pray He’ll shine through me—that His glory will be visible to those I encounter.

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