Sometimes I feel alone.
Not spiritually, because I know God is always with me.
Not when I'm going tinkle, because I know at least one kid is sitting outside the door (if not in the room with me).
Not on a quest, because I'm not really into searching around for things. That's why I quit my golf lessons. Who wants to chase a little white critter around a field?
I'm talking alone alone. Like everyone's wearing plaid and your wearing stripes not because you want to but because you didn't get the plaid memo because someome misplaced your e-mail addy. You just don't fit in. Not that you really want to fit in (aka, copycat syndrome).
See it's kinda like a body. Each part was created for a specific purpose and must do the purpose for which it was created or things wouldn't work right. Kinda like typing with your nose. Can be done, but slow, tedious, and awkward. Not to mention the mess when you sneeze or have a cold.
After you've finished a ms, you look for a target publisher. Most publishers have guidelines of what they want in a story or at least suggest you read several of their books so you can get an idea of what they want in a story.
I'm not sure where my writing fits. It's too sensual (no graphic sex, though) for an inspy market, and too tame for the mainstream. (Sex sells, don't you know? The steamier the better should be some publishers' motto.) I've heard Bethany House is looking for edgier inspirationals, but I'm just not sure how sharp they want the knife.
So I feel alone.
Alone.
Alone.
Is there an echo in here?
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Help, my liver ran away!
My kids think I can’t cook.
Well, maybe not that I can’t cook, but more like that I can’t cook good. I’m really not sure why they think that. I’m a great cook. Someday they need to start tipping the chef/waitress/hostess of the Welborn Café. And they need to stop groaning when I say we’re having dinner at the Welborn Café.
Uggh, children. Gotta love ’em...I guess.
Every night for dinner and for lunch on Sunday, I always put a tablecloth on the table, give all six of us matching Longaberger luncheon plates, set Oneida Kenwood silverware in the correct spot, and fill our Mikasa goblets (okay, the kids normally get Tupperware cups) with a chilled--and often--iced beverage.
I’m soooooo channeling Martha Stewart. (And I don't even believe in channeling.)
The only thing I don’t have on the table is candlesticks because...well, boys and fire are combustible.
Does it matter that macaroni and cheese makes a wonderful side dish with practically anything? Why can’t they see how I take care not to have all orange foods or all white foods? Will they ever notice that I strive to ensure the meal food colors, shapes, and textures vary (except on the days when we have cereal for dinner)?
In my almost 12 years of being a mom, I’ve discovered that you don’t have to follow a recipe exactly. And if you don’t have baking powder, you can substitute baking soda mixed with cream of tartar. Or is that the other way around?
I made a coffeecake once using a yellow cake mix (mixed according to box instructions), butter, and crushed Oreo cookies. And it tasted darn good. Of course, no one wanted to eat it until my hubby guinea-pigged through the first piece.
Okay, I’ll admit I’m not a great cook. I’m no Martha Stewart. But I do watch Iron Chef of American. Yes, it’s to see Bobby Oh-Please-Flay-Me, but as I’m watching, I’m absorbing great cooking skills because I recognize that I’m a visual learner.
When we were first married, my hubby decided to make some chocolate chip cookies all on his own. I heard him banging around in the kitchen for days upon days.
Finally, he yelled, “Honey, if your cookies are kinda runny, what do would you do?”
I said, “Add more flour.”
Minutes later he said, “More flour isn’t working.”
“How much extra did you add?”
“Two cups.”
With my Julia Child-shocked-expression, I headed to the kitchen. I picked up a container. “You added this to the dough?”
“Yes,” he said, glaring at me as if I were not Julia Child.
Controlling my laughter, I said, “This is powdered sugar, not flour. Couldn’t you smell the difference, see the difference, taste the difference?”
Let’s just say he wasn’t too pleased with my comment. Uggh, husbands. Gotta love ’em…I guess.
I’m good at some things, but not all things. And in my crit group, each of us are good at some things, but not all things. As one of my CP so eloquently said this week, “We each bring something different to the table.”
Another way of saying that is “We each have a part, a job, a skill, a strength that benefits someone else.”
The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up only one body.
What your foot said, “I’m tired of only being a foot. I want to be a hand so I can touch things or an eye so I can see Bobby Flay cook”?
Or liver: “I’m sick of processing toxins. Lemme be the tongue so I can taste the food before it turns nasty.”
Or ear: “Two’s a crowd. I’m leaving so I can be the only ear.”
Or butt: “I’m tired of people’s crap. I want to be a mouth so I can enjoy Bobby Flay’s barbeque.”
I believe God placed each part of our bodies in the prime spot for them to do the exact things for which they were created to do. And even the parts of the body that seem weakest aren’t purposeless. Imagine not having a thumb. Or no hair in your nose. That hair has a purpose. Not a purpose I really want to think about at the moment, but a purpose nonetheless.
Fortunately, in a human body, each part does its job. A heart can only pump blood and not chew Twizzlers. And if it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do, you need a new heart or you’re dead.
In a family, a crit group, or even a writing organization, sometimes the wrong part is doing the wrong job, which causes stress and discouragement because the part isn’t doing what it was created to do. Square peg in a round hole. And sometimes a part is letting another part do its job.
Is it time you stepped back and let someone else have the spotlight? Or is it time you stepped up and took a more active role?
Now who has detective skills?
My liver ran away to Vegas.
Well, maybe not that I can’t cook, but more like that I can’t cook good. I’m really not sure why they think that. I’m a great cook. Someday they need to start tipping the chef/waitress/hostess of the Welborn Café. And they need to stop groaning when I say we’re having dinner at the Welborn Café.
Uggh, children. Gotta love ’em...I guess.
Every night for dinner and for lunch on Sunday, I always put a tablecloth on the table, give all six of us matching Longaberger luncheon plates, set Oneida Kenwood silverware in the correct spot, and fill our Mikasa goblets (okay, the kids normally get Tupperware cups) with a chilled--and often--iced beverage.
I’m soooooo channeling Martha Stewart. (And I don't even believe in channeling.)
The only thing I don’t have on the table is candlesticks because...well, boys and fire are combustible.
Does it matter that macaroni and cheese makes a wonderful side dish with practically anything? Why can’t they see how I take care not to have all orange foods or all white foods? Will they ever notice that I strive to ensure the meal food colors, shapes, and textures vary (except on the days when we have cereal for dinner)?
In my almost 12 years of being a mom, I’ve discovered that you don’t have to follow a recipe exactly. And if you don’t have baking powder, you can substitute baking soda mixed with cream of tartar. Or is that the other way around?
I made a coffeecake once using a yellow cake mix (mixed according to box instructions), butter, and crushed Oreo cookies. And it tasted darn good. Of course, no one wanted to eat it until my hubby guinea-pigged through the first piece.
Okay, I’ll admit I’m not a great cook. I’m no Martha Stewart. But I do watch Iron Chef of American. Yes, it’s to see Bobby Oh-Please-Flay-Me, but as I’m watching, I’m absorbing great cooking skills because I recognize that I’m a visual learner.
When we were first married, my hubby decided to make some chocolate chip cookies all on his own. I heard him banging around in the kitchen for days upon days.
Finally, he yelled, “Honey, if your cookies are kinda runny, what do would you do?”
I said, “Add more flour.”
Minutes later he said, “More flour isn’t working.”
“How much extra did you add?”
“Two cups.”
With my Julia Child-shocked-expression, I headed to the kitchen. I picked up a container. “You added this to the dough?”
“Yes,” he said, glaring at me as if I were not Julia Child.
Controlling my laughter, I said, “This is powdered sugar, not flour. Couldn’t you smell the difference, see the difference, taste the difference?”
Let’s just say he wasn’t too pleased with my comment. Uggh, husbands. Gotta love ’em…I guess.
I’m good at some things, but not all things. And in my crit group, each of us are good at some things, but not all things. As one of my CP so eloquently said this week, “We each bring something different to the table.”
Another way of saying that is “We each have a part, a job, a skill, a strength that benefits someone else.”
The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up only one body.
What your foot said, “I’m tired of only being a foot. I want to be a hand so I can touch things or an eye so I can see Bobby Flay cook”?
Or liver: “I’m sick of processing toxins. Lemme be the tongue so I can taste the food before it turns nasty.”
Or ear: “Two’s a crowd. I’m leaving so I can be the only ear.”
Or butt: “I’m tired of people’s crap. I want to be a mouth so I can enjoy Bobby Flay’s barbeque.”
I believe God placed each part of our bodies in the prime spot for them to do the exact things for which they were created to do. And even the parts of the body that seem weakest aren’t purposeless. Imagine not having a thumb. Or no hair in your nose. That hair has a purpose. Not a purpose I really want to think about at the moment, but a purpose nonetheless.
Fortunately, in a human body, each part does its job. A heart can only pump blood and not chew Twizzlers. And if it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do, you need a new heart or you’re dead.
In a family, a crit group, or even a writing organization, sometimes the wrong part is doing the wrong job, which causes stress and discouragement because the part isn’t doing what it was created to do. Square peg in a round hole. And sometimes a part is letting another part do its job.
Is it time you stepped back and let someone else have the spotlight? Or is it time you stepped up and took a more active role?
Now who has detective skills?
My liver ran away to Vegas.
I'm exhausted and excited!
It's 3 am and I finally finished posting the ROMANCE DIVAS Best Opening Hook entries. We have these nifty contests that I like to call WE ALL WIN, because everyone one wins. The entrants get feedback. The judges learn to judge. The readers who haven't entered and/or aren't judging get to see what a contest is kinda like.
My hope is that this simple little contest will prompt more ladies into entering their mss in RWA contests and/or querying agents and editors.
Now I need to go to bed before the sun comes up.
My hope is that this simple little contest will prompt more ladies into entering their mss in RWA contests and/or querying agents and editors.
Now I need to go to bed before the sun comes up.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Writing Columns for Romance Divas
Back in November Kristen Painter asked me if I'd write a monthly column for a new writers' forum she and her galpal Jacquline Crane were starting. Why not? I thought.
Writing a monthly (now, bi-monthly in most months) isn't easy. Sometimes it's cheesy. (hehehe)
What I love best is my worldview is allowed to shine in my writing. But sometimes I wonder if I'm a flimsy Christian because I don't use every forum post or column to share my faith. I don't even us a fraction. I just finished reading One Thing You Can't Do In Heaven by Mark Cahill. Great book!
Too many times I focus on today, this moment, and not on eternity. As a believer in Jesus Christ, I should tell others about God and how much He loves them and desires to spend eternity with them, yet I don't.
I can guarantee every one of us will be dead a whole lot longer than we will be alive. So why aren't more of us searching out what is on the other side? Why am I not sharing this with my people I care about?
In a hundred and fifty years, will it matter if I won the lottery, drove a Corvette, got my master's degree in English, or figured out the secrets of "Lost"? Not at all. The only thing that will matter is whether I know the One who created me, because in 150 years, I will be in one of two places for ever and ever and ever, and so will every person I care about and even the ones who I don't.
What is happening spiritually in your life?
Me?
Well, last school year I helped out in Kids Church. Sometimes I taught the Bible lesson, sometimes I did the object lesson, sometimes I just bopped kids on the heads to get them to be quiet (quite fun). During the last couple of weeks, I just didn't feel like I was supposed to help out in Kids Church this next year. Yet I didn't know where I was supposed to go.
Adult Sunday School classes can drive me bonkers because some church-going adults are just stupid. (No offense intended to any stupid adults reading this blog.)
Finally on our trip to Pigeon Forge, TN, I told my husband that I was struggling with where God wanted me to serve this next school year. I knew Kids Church wasn't it. He said he needed a lady to teach 6th grade girls and had thought about asking me but wasn't sure if I'd do it because of my working with Kids Church.
I figured that was a pretty good sign from God. Still, I decided to pray about it.
I took a week, yet still didn't feel completely confident. I asked God to show me clearly what He wanted me to do.
On the way home from Pigeon Forge, I finished reading One Thing You Can't Do in Heaven. Here's what I read:
"In Matthew 4:19, Jesus said, 'Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.' The first thing Jesus told His followers is that we were going to reach the lost with the best news ever heard! He did not say that we should make a lot of money at it or have a huge church, but that we would win souls for the kingdom. I shated this thought with a friend, andhe told me something he had heard: 'Remember that if you are not fishing, you are not following.'"
Right after I read that last line, I prayed, "God, help me fish." Then I heard in my mind, "I should teach 6th grade girls." And I responded, "Yes, I should."
My husband then said, "Gina, don't forget about the 6th grade luncheon tomorrow."
He had no idea what I was thinking about, yet his words were as if he knew. Well, he didn't, but the same Person who was speaking to him was speaking to me.
That's one of the few things that is happening spiritually in my life. What about you?
Writing a monthly (now, bi-monthly in most months) isn't easy. Sometimes it's cheesy. (hehehe)
What I love best is my worldview is allowed to shine in my writing. But sometimes I wonder if I'm a flimsy Christian because I don't use every forum post or column to share my faith. I don't even us a fraction. I just finished reading One Thing You Can't Do In Heaven by Mark Cahill. Great book!
Too many times I focus on today, this moment, and not on eternity. As a believer in Jesus Christ, I should tell others about God and how much He loves them and desires to spend eternity with them, yet I don't.
I can guarantee every one of us will be dead a whole lot longer than we will be alive. So why aren't more of us searching out what is on the other side? Why am I not sharing this with my people I care about?
In a hundred and fifty years, will it matter if I won the lottery, drove a Corvette, got my master's degree in English, or figured out the secrets of "Lost"? Not at all. The only thing that will matter is whether I know the One who created me, because in 150 years, I will be in one of two places for ever and ever and ever, and so will every person I care about and even the ones who I don't.
What is happening spiritually in your life?
Me?
Well, last school year I helped out in Kids Church. Sometimes I taught the Bible lesson, sometimes I did the object lesson, sometimes I just bopped kids on the heads to get them to be quiet (quite fun). During the last couple of weeks, I just didn't feel like I was supposed to help out in Kids Church this next year. Yet I didn't know where I was supposed to go.
Adult Sunday School classes can drive me bonkers because some church-going adults are just stupid. (No offense intended to any stupid adults reading this blog.)
Finally on our trip to Pigeon Forge, TN, I told my husband that I was struggling with where God wanted me to serve this next school year. I knew Kids Church wasn't it. He said he needed a lady to teach 6th grade girls and had thought about asking me but wasn't sure if I'd do it because of my working with Kids Church.
I figured that was a pretty good sign from God. Still, I decided to pray about it.
I took a week, yet still didn't feel completely confident. I asked God to show me clearly what He wanted me to do.
On the way home from Pigeon Forge, I finished reading One Thing You Can't Do in Heaven. Here's what I read:
"In Matthew 4:19, Jesus said, 'Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.' The first thing Jesus told His followers is that we were going to reach the lost with the best news ever heard! He did not say that we should make a lot of money at it or have a huge church, but that we would win souls for the kingdom. I shated this thought with a friend, andhe told me something he had heard: 'Remember that if you are not fishing, you are not following.'"
Right after I read that last line, I prayed, "God, help me fish." Then I heard in my mind, "I should teach 6th grade girls." And I responded, "Yes, I should."
My husband then said, "Gina, don't forget about the 6th grade luncheon tomorrow."
He had no idea what I was thinking about, yet his words were as if he knew. Well, he didn't, but the same Person who was speaking to him was speaking to me.
That's one of the few things that is happening spiritually in my life. What about you?
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