A Love Triangle - Tracy Krauss

I sometimes think of myself as a writing chameleon because I write for two very distinct audiences. My first writing love is romantic suspense fiction, but I also dove into the role of playwright several years ago and found that I loved it almost as well. It's a bit of love triangle - me, secular comedy plays, and Christian fiction.

I started writing way back in 1985. I was a young mom and I found I needed a creative outlet when my daughter went down for her nap. I borrowed my mother's old typewriter and clacked away for an hour or so each day. I had no idea what, if anything, would come of these stories, but it was an outlet that soon became an obsession. Sixteen years later I had one full manuscript finished and several other works in progress. I started to think that maybe, just maybe, I could find a publisher. Little did I know that the road to publication was not as easy as I thought. Another seven years, many rejections, and much heartache later, I finally signed my first contract. It was a steep learning curve - one that I am still navigating.

Around the same time that I decided to seek publication, I also went back to work as a public school teacher. I have a fine art and theatre background so when I got offered the job as the sole art and drama teacher at our local secondary school, I was sure God had placed it right in my lap. My first drama class was a mixture of grades, experience, and enthusiasm and I just couldn't find the right material for some kind of show. I decided to let the students write their own short skits and I tied them together with a set of scenes featuring aliens watching the human activity from above. 'Look Who's Watching' was a hit with the audience and spurred me on to write more plays for my students, many of which have been published with various play publishing houses.

My eldest daughter is turning 29 this summer. I can't believe that so many years have flown by since I wrote those first tentative bits of narrative. A lot has happened since. My first book And the Beat Goes On came out in 2008. Since then My Mother the Man-Eater (2010), Play It Again (2011), and Wind Over Marshdale (2012) released. A serialized novel called Neighbors is currently coming out in separate instalments and I am working collaboratively on another serialized novel called Colony Zero.

I have also been privileged to see several stage plays in print. Ebenezer's Christmas Carol (2010), Dorothy's Road Trip (2012), The Western Tale (2012), Little Red in the Hood (2012), A Midterm Eve's Phantasm (2012), and Hook's Nemesis (2013).

Finally, I recently self published a devotional book called Life Is a Highway, based on several speaking engagements, and an illustrated children's book called The Sleepytown Express, based on a 1930s song by Haven Gillespie. I also signed a contract for the sequel to Wind Over Marshdale called Lone Wolf.

During this time I've moved fifteen times, lived and worked in five provinces and territories, raised four children, homeschooled for nine years, supported my family while my husband went back to school, and went into full time ministry. Phew! My head spins just thinking about it.

My writing journey had a slow start. Sometimes I wish I would have been more proactive about seeking publication sooner. I have so many more stories to tell and time is slipping away! I just need to stop and reflect on the goodness of God, however, and consider that everything happens according to His perfect timing. I would not have been ready any sooner for the demands of promotion and online marketing that now take a considerable amount of my time. Family, church and work responsibilities simply would not have allowed it. I am grateful for the small measure of success with which God has seen fit to bless me. And I look forward to the next leg of the journey...

Tracy Krauss is a best-selling author, playwright, artist and teacher. She is a member of 'American Christian Fiction Writers', 'Inscribe Christian Writers Fellowship', and ‘The Word Guild’ as well as several writing related social networking groups. An avid reader, she also reviews books and posts most of these reviews regularly on her blog ‘Expression Express’ as well as at other locations on the web. Originally from a small prairie town, Tracy received her Bachelor’s Degree from the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon, Sask. with majors in Art, and minors in History and English. She teaches High School English, Drama and Art. Apart from her many personal creative pursuits, she also directs an amateur theatre group and leads worship at her local church. She and her husband, an ordained minister with the PAOC, have lived in many remote and unique places in Canada's north, including Churchill Manitoba - the 'polar bear capital of the world', the Yukon, and the NWT. They raised four children and were active advocates of the homeschooling movement for many years. They currently reside in beautiful Tumbler Ridge, BC, known for its waterfalls. Visit her website: tracykrauss.com

Foolish Dreams

A $25 cheque launched me. A published writer, I was on the way to fame and fortune.

As publishing credits slowly accumulated my first book went through 40+ rewrites. Every time I learned something new in those early years I reworked the manuscript start to finish. The math alone, that is now condensed to a brief appendix and a few paragraphs scattered through the manuscript, consumed hundreds of hours. I was more addicted to the EAGLE than the main character in the book. It took 32 pages of calculations to plot the first 90 seconds of flight.

Foolish? Undoubtedly. A waste of time? I’ll dare say no. I’ve read more than enough books where I know the subject matter better than the author. Books lose credibility very fast if basic principals of physics are ignored. Because I’ve done the math I know the EAGLE cannot do the loops and flips I dreamed of. Because I’ve done the math I know how painfully slow it accelerates. I know it flies like a bloated whale and never, ever flattens you into the back of your seat. That doesn’t limit my imagination so much as focus it, for the same weight that makes the EAGLE so cumbersome in the air allows it to submerge. Named and modeled after the Eagle Ray, it is in fact a submarine that can just manage to take to the air for brief periods.

I’ve done my homework and the math actually works. Except for the power-plant, the EAGLE uses off-the-shelf technology and elementary physics. It’s not out-of-this-world fiction. In theory at least it is entirely possible.

Foolishness? I won’t argue the point. Thousands of hours have gone into the book. Whole sections, multiple chapters have been written and discarded.

The manuscript reached a certain level of quality, for it was short-listed in 2003 when the first Best New Canadian Author award was launched. I thought it was pretty good at the time, and I confess that I hoped desperately to win.

I have learned so much since. I have been working on the manuscript again. “The story grips my imagination. But the writing doesn’t quite shine.” That’s probably the core of a review I might write if it was another author’s work.

So much time invested and I’m not sure it will ever see publication. A foolish dream perhaps. I think most first novels are. But is there any better way to learn to write a book than by actually sitting down and writing a book? Is there any better way to hone the craft of writing than by putting in the hours, getting words on paper or into a computer file – and then getting feedback – those painful critiques or “Thank you for submitting, but. . .” responses?

I don’t regret the hours invested. It has not been wasted time. I cut my writing teeth on that manuscript. I come to it now with so much more skill as a writer that the weaknesses are painfully obvious. Unfortunately obvious does not mean easily fixed. I’m not at all sorry the book wasn’t published in its earlier form.

Foolish dreams? I’d dare say that is part of every writer’s life. But I’ll keep dreaming.

Elijah Syndrome - Meyer

Audrey Guiboche, Brenda Fontaine, Angela Singh, Dana Coates and M. D. Meyer

I don't know that it is always necessarily this way but it does seem sometimes as if great "mountain top experiences" are followed by moments (or days or weeks) in the valley.

I arrived home yesterday from Winnipeg and our wonderful double book launch of Northern Writers volume 1, an anthology, and Pilot Error, a children's chapter book. It was a lot of fun and a great success. But after the 9-hour trip home yesterday, I jumped right back into work and now... Well, I feel a bit down. Not quite as bad as Elijah - he was really depressed! (read 1 Kings, 19th chapter) but a little on the down side nonetheless.

Recently, our pastor spoke about the experiences of Elijah after his great victory on Mount Carmel. God had answered his prayer in such a wonderfully miraculous way but then Elijah hit that period of depression afterwards. What our pastor spoke about was the practical needs we have as human beings for food, water and rest. A big part of Elijah's problem was that he was just plain tired. When God ministered to him, the first thing He did was to provide food and water for him. And Elijah got some much needed sleep.

And so today, I leave you with no great words of wisdom but just some very practical advice that we all need to hear sometimes and maybe particularily as we near the always extremely busy Christmas season. Take time to rest when you need it. Eat nutritious food. Drink enough water to keep your body healthy.

And now I think I'll go take my own advice...

Rejoicing with those Who Rejoice

Do you remember that verse in Romans 12 that talks about weeping with those who weep, and rejoicing with those who rejoice?

What is the hardest one for you?

For years I focused on the "weep with those who weep" part. I figured that when a friend was hurting, it was important to hurt with them. To enter into their pain, and not just ignore it or give it a passing glance, just enough to buy a card but that's it.

Lately, though, I've started to wonder if the "rejoice with those who rejoice" is actually harder. Sure, it's fun to cheer when a friend gets married. That is, if you're already married. It's great to cheer when your sister announces she's pregnant! If, of course, you haven't just had four miscarriages. What about when a friend of yours signs a great book deal, when you've been waiting for a nibble on your proposal for months?

Then it's a little bit tricker, isn't it?

The publishing industry today is very cut throat. There's an economic downturn coming, and it will be harder to get our books published. So there's even more room for jealousy, and feeling badly, and wondering if you're doing this all for nothing. And it's hard to look when someone else seems so much more successful.

But God calls us not just to look, but to rejoice! He asks us to be happy for them, because He is the One doing the work. He has a reason that their book is selling, that their baby is healthy, that their marriage is working. These things can be difficult when someone else is living the dream that we have nurtured for years, but I think God is calling us to dream His dreams, and not only our own.

That doesn't mean that He doesn't give us individual dreams. But we have to remember that He has the ultimate plan for this world. And we have to rejoice just for being a part of it.

I find that difficult, to focus on God, rather than the things that I have built up in my mind. But I am learning, slowly but surely, that He is guiding me in my writing and my speaking, just not in the directions I thought. My speaking is currently going better than my writing, which is perhaps typical of this economy. I'm looking at doing more self-publishing, especially of devotionals, since I already have a ready audience. But I'm also interested in the idea of communicating, and not only writing. Speaking, even "twittering", if need be!

God has given each of us specific audiences. Some of those audiences may be large and some small, but He has put them in our path for a reason. Let's not lament that He didn't do a better job; let's rejoice with what He's given us, and rejoice with what He's given others. Let's focus on Him, not on us!

Here's a little video clip of me talking about what it means to focus on something. Hope you enjoy it!

Sheila is the author of four books, including How Big Is Your Umbrella: Weathering the Storms of Life. Find Sheila at www.SheilaWrayGregoire.com!

She blogs at http://tolovehonorandvacuum.blogspot.com, and twitters at www.twitter.com/sheilagregoire.

Author of the Impossible - Guest Blogger

Have you ever had a title of a book jump out at you and beg to be read? Not long ago I was in a bookstore and I noticed a book called "The Dream Giver" by Bruce Wilkinson. The feather on the cover also piqued my interest, perhaps because it reminded me of writing, something I enjoy doing when life doesn’t get in the way.
In the book, a ‘Nobody’ named Ordinary lived in the Land of Familiar. One night Ordinary was visited by the Dream Giver and challenged to pursue a dream that had been dormant for some time.
As I read each page I felt the author was writing about me, about the dream I had tucked away in my heart, something I’d locked away for safe keeping and never drawn out to examine it in all my adult life.

Like Ordinary in the Land of Familiar, I had used excuses why not to pursue my dream. If asked to put into words why I hadn’t started pursuing my dream earlier in my life, I’d have argued I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I lacked the courage to face my personal giants.

My dream was to be a writer but for 35 years I resisted the idea of becoming a writer, doubting my own abilities and not tapping in to God’s. One morning I sat up in bed and let the rays from the early morning sun warm my back. Before my toes met the floor, an inner voice seemed to say, “What are you going to do about your dream?” It was a fleeting thought but one that had been darting in and out of my mind for months. More out of frustration than conviction, I remember saying, "Okay God, I agree, I'll never know until I try." Since then I’ve written six books and several hundred devotionals and inspirational stories.

Too often we are tempted to see the giants in our lives as immovable obstacles but the reason for this may be because we are looking up at an ugly giant instead of looking up to God. We may battle with doubts and wonder how God can ever use what little we have to offer but if we obey His call I believe we’ll discover a marvelous truth – God is the author of the impossible.

Elaine Ingalls Hogg - author, speaker
author@nb.sympatico.ca
http://elainehogg.com/

Books:
From Heaven and Earth (Spring 2008), Joey's Secret Wish (2007), Historic Grand Manan (2007), Christmas in the Maritimes (2006) best seller, When Canada Joined Cape Breton (2005), Remembering Honey - winner of the Marianna Dempster Award

The Way That God Made Me - Meyer

For a variety of reasons, I have struggled all my life with a poor self image. In more recent years, I have come to accept my teeth, and hair, and body size and shape. Most days, I can think and feel beyond the flaws, and interact confidently with people around me. Most days, I feel “comfortable in my own skin.”

Not yesterday…

Yesterday, I wished that God would give me darker skin and jet black hair, if even for just a few hours.

I was at the Norway House Cree Nation 2008 Staff Conference. Out of about 200 people attending the conference, there were maybe one, or perhaps two, white people; the rest were First Nations.

I was invited to have a book table there.

The books that I was selling were written about, and for, First Nations people. The setting of the series is Rabbit Lake, a fictional First Nations community but also includes a tourist camp nearby. The main character in one of my books is Colin Hill, who is Ojibway, although there are many cultural backgrounds represented throughout the series. The stories touch on issues that are common to many cultures (drug and alcohol addiction, and child sexual abuse) but also refer to specific First Nations issues such as Indian Residential School.

The reason why I write in this setting, with these characters, and about these issues, could also quite fairly be described as “the way God made me.” The family that He placed me into, the setting where I grew up, and the issues I encountered as a child, all combined to produce in me this internal story that clamors to be told. I write the things I feel passionate about. I write the things that I can’t not write about.

Sometimes, it’s awkward being a Caucasian of uncertain ancestry writing books for, and about, First Nations people.

But I’ve stopped (almost!) trying to figure out why God made me the way I am. He did it. I trust Him. ‘Nuf said.

Dorene Meyer, author of Deep Waters
http://www.dorenemeyer.com/

“Set in the fictional Ojibway community of Rabbit Lake, Deep Waters will transport you into Canada’s far north for a compelling story of enduring love and sustaining faith.”

What's the Word? - Arends

Are there writers for whom a blank page (or, perhaps, a blank computer screen) is an invitation? For me, every unwritten column/blog/letter/song/book/sermon is a door, bolted and double-bolted shut. Every word must be sneaked in undercover, crammed through the mail slot, jammed past the hinges, forced through the peep hole. It takes time, effort, and subterfuge to coerce a piece of writing into being. It makes me tired and grumpy. I don't care for it.

So why write? Why search for the words? Once, in a songwriting session with my friend, Brad Crisler (who is brilliant, successful and unbelievably fidgety and exasperated in writing sessions) I finally asked him, "Do you even like writing songs?" He replied, "Of course not. But I love having written a song." Ah, there's the rub. Being an author is fun. Authoring is brutal.

It isn't just the fun, of course, that makes us put up with the whole ordeal. We write (some of us haltingly, some of us prolifically) because, deep inside ourselves where we keep wordless things, we understand that words matter. We are compelled to speak them and write them. We cajole words into submission and then realize that they have told us things we didn't know we knew.

I was thinking about all this tonight (in leu of actually writing anything, of course) when I came across an old journal entry regarding words. Here it is ...

WORDS

I was a relatively healthy child. I was particularly resistant to developing a fever, and it always seemed rather unjust to me that each of my brothers possessed the ability to run a mild temperature--even if his only affliction was a case of Unfinished Homework. What my fevers lacked in quantity, however, they more than compensated for in quality.

I had three great fevers--one due to the aptly named Scarlet Fever, another courtesy of the Chicken Pox, and the third in honor of a highly allergic reaction to the unfortunate ingestion of a particular strain of wild berry. In each case my temperature rose to approximately 104 degrees and the ensuing delirium produced vivid and terrifying hallucinations. My mother would rush to my side armed with nothing but cool washcloths and Baby Aspirin--a comfort to be sure, but no match for my imaginary foes. I tried my best to articulate the horrors of the visions before me. "The words are attacking me!"

It isn't hard for me to picture now what I experienced then, and, to be honest, it still gives me the shivers. A word--most often the word "dim" (I am not making this up)--would start off small and sinister on my mind's horizon. Gradually, it would advance towards me, becoming larger each time it asserted itself. This visual march was accompanied by narration--a male voice speaking the word, starting as a whisper ("dim, dim") and becoming louder and louder and LOUDER ("DIM, DIM!!!!"). Literally, the word was attacking me.

I have a writer friend who thinks--charitably--that these childhood experiences prove I was destined to write. My psychologist friend, on the other hand, takes them as clear indications that I am in need of her services. My own diagnosis: too much Sesame Street. But I would like to believe that--at the very least--the nature of my delirium indicated that some part of my young soul understood a little of the power of words.

Words. They don't seem like much, and they fail us often. But we experience their impact intensely enough to render the "sticks and stones" theory null and void. According to the Proverbs, words aptly spoken are like apples of silver in frames of gold. (I think we can assume here that Solomon thought silver apples in gold frames were something really special.) The truth is, if we are interested in discussing the who, what, when, where--and sometimes why--of our shared experience, words are all we have.

Our capacity for language is, not insignificantly, unique to our species. Only we humans have the ability to apply syllable and syntax to our emotions and perceptions, and we've been doing it instinctively since Adam started naming things in the Garden. Granted, words are not the only things that separate us from the animals--we are, for example, unafraid of vacuum cleaners (generally). Still, I'd much rather talk or read than vacuum, so maybe I should keep working on this word thing.

I don't think it's wrong to assume that God Himself ascribes some importance to words. It was the Word, after all, who became flesh and dwelt among us--going to a considerable amount of trouble to speak our language. Eugene Peterson says that words don't just tell us something, they are something, and I believe he's right. Words are sacred, and when they are used truthfully, or beautifully, or--best of all--incarnationally, they cause us to consider and even experience our Creator. Words offer more than the possibility of connection between humans--they carry intrinsically the promise of communication and communion with God.

I'm going to try to speak some good words today, and maybe even write a few down. And I'm going to listen for the Word, speaking into my life, inviting me to co-create with Him.


www.carolynarends.com
www.conversantlife.com

now available: Wrestling With Angels
"Carolyn is a writer, a terrific writer. God has gifted this woman with a remarkable ability to illustrate ideas that very few writers can illustrate. If you are looking for a friend to take a journey with, this book makes pleasant company." -- Donald Miller, author

Dormancy - Schneider

One of my joys in life is gardening. I love watching the plants sprout during the spring, monitoring their growth through the early summer weeks, and then watching colour burst forth around my yard.

I've wanted clematis for close to ten years, but never had a good place to plant one. Our current home not only has a sunny area close to the house, but also has a climbing trellis already put in place. Small problem that I'm in northern Alberta where clematis may or may not survive the winter. I just had to try. I bought a couple of plants and carefully put them in place.

However, the author of the gardening book said not to be surprised if the clematis seems to go dormant after being transplanted. These plants apparently really don't like changing location, and so they may just quit doing any visible growth for as long as a year after the transplant. The thought occurred to me, "Gardening isn't for impatient souls."

The same could be said for creativity. I am prone to fits of impatience, particularly when life forces my writing into dormancy. For example, any time my military engineer husband gets sent overseas to oversee constructing another peacekeeper camp, little writing gets done in his absence. On a smaller scale, if one of my children comes down with the flu, the computer is neglected while I tend to the young one's needs, and nurture myself by indulging in a good book or some sewing in between runs for ginger ale and crackers. But the creative life is not for the impatient. As I keep reminding myself, it's about the process, not the product. I nurture my gift, I express it in the little ways which "work" right now, and one of these days, the plant will start to grow again.

This summer marks the second full year the clematis has been in place, and it's more than I hoped for. Deep purple flowers almost entirely hid the green foliage. It's proof that patience (and adequate watering)has its rewards.

I took a picture of those blooms to post beside my computer as reminder on those days when life won't let me write, or when the writing seems like a bunch of dead twiggy things sticking out of the dirt. Patience. The bloom will come again.

Finding Joy in the Journey by Marcia Lee Laycock

The colour green has never seemed more beautiful.

Across from our house the freshness of new buds bursting delights the eyes. Perhaps it seems all the more wonderful because it has been a long time coming. We had a cool spring here this year. In fact, only three days ago we had big fluffy flakes piling up on our lawn. It was my birthday, and the first in my memory with snow. But even though the days of April and early May have been cool and the nights almost frosty, you could see the change happening in the trees and bushes all around us. I found myself delighting in it each day as the willows turned red and the grey poplars darkened, moving steadily toward maturity in spite of the weather. Though the days were grey, the sap was stirring. Now that the sun has finally arrived, the trees are bursting with new growth. Their time has arrived.

It makes me think of the long process toward maturity as a writer. The road can seem hard and the desired end result a long time coming. But like the trees around us, there is growth and progress even though the environment doesn’t seem to be cooperative. Rejections give us further resolve to work harder. Friends give us the encouragement that keeps us going when we are discouraged. And those wonderful moments of accomplishment give us a sense of awe and humility as we recognize the hand of God in it all.

God’s hand is moving us along the path toward becoming a mature writer as surely as he is directing the course of the seasons. The blossoming of the trees and flowers is never late, in God’s timing. Neither is the timing of our “arrival” as writers. He is in control. It’s for us to keep moving forward, persevering as we learn the craft, and rejoicing as He uses our gifts to His purposes. And delighting in the journey.