writing for joy
As you can tell by my last email, I've been in a bit of a funk. It's been hard to write. Words weren't cooperating when I tried to put them together in a sentence.
So, I thought I'd tell you guys where I'm at. I'm going to be writing what I want to write for a little while. I know I have some characters that you are eargerly waiting on. I want to tell those stories, but right now, I can't. And to give you guys stories about those loved characters that do them justice, I need a little time.
That brings me to what I'm currently writing. I'm writing YA. It's different from my previous stuff because it's first person (nothing like Broken Like Glass--so for those not interested in that, don't worry). Doing something different, using a different POV style has been rather refreshing. I don't know how many I'll write, but I'm hoping (and praying) that the change will help fill the well that's feeling so dry at the moment.
I want to say that I appreciate those who have sent me emails lately. They've been a blessing to me.
I cannot begin to express how wonderful it was to receive such an outpouring of encouragement and support from all of you. It meant so much to me. I’ve been having a rough few months when it comes to writing.
Sometimes, it’s hard for me to stop thinking and worrying and stressing. I suspect I’m not the only one.
It was suggested that maybe I’m supposed to just pause and take a breathe. And I agree. While there is still part of me stressing about this, that, and the other, I’m reminded to be still and know that He is God. (For those who share my faith.)
In the midst of a hailstorm, He’s the shelter. That doesn’t mean I don’t get a few dents. It means He’s the one who can take those dents and use them for His purpose. What that is, sometimes I know and other times, I don’t. What I do have is faith that I’m loved.
I’ve been up since 4 am, and as I’m reading over those three paragraphs, I realize I’m waxing philosophical. Shoot, at this point I’m just happy these sentences make sense.
Anyway, you may or may not remember my participation in a Christmas Anthology. Well, I have that story back, and I’m giving it to you all (yes, you can share the link, and no, they won’t have to sign up for my newsletter.) It’s my way of saying thank you for reading my stories. Just click on the cover and it’ll take you to the page where you can download it. :)
burnt, crispy, fried writer
I am burnt out. I have this great space to write in, and the words just won't flow. For the first time since March 2018, I won't have a book for the next month. I have one coming in July, but it's part of a boxed set (the Pets for Vets.) Beyond that, I have no idea what I'll do.
Putting those words in a sentence and giving them voice, makes me feel like a failure. I just don't know any other way to say it, though. I thought having quiet space would help, but as I sit here, trying to think of a plot for a novel, I've got nothing.
I don't even know how to pray for this. Do I sit still and try to listen to what God wants? Do I forge on, putting words on a screen that feel forced and choppy? How do I fill a creativity well when it feels like the bottom has dropped out and it's perpetually empty no matter what I try to fill it with?
All these questions, and I have no answers. I'm sorry for no new book next month. I'm hoping that an idea hits and the words will just pour out. Until then...I don't know what to do. Cry? Eat chocolate? Both? Maybe. Probably.
If you're feeling the way I am about your situation, I hope you find peace. I wouldn't wish this feeling of defeat on anyone.
All right. I've whined enough. You all have a great weekend. If you are struggling, I hope by the time Monday peeks over the horizon, you've got a game plan. I'll hold out that hope too and maybe we can all celebrate.
sunshine and big foot
I’m still in the midst of moving, but it’s winding down and I can see the light at the end of the dust-bunny laden tunnel. And there were some big ole bunnies.
My family is settling in and we’re loving the street we live on. My oldest has decided she loves to bike and she’s been outside more in the last few days. My youngest has called her Bigfoot for forever because she never comes out of her room. And now, my youngest is threatening to take pictures to prove she’s not allergic to sunlight. (It’s just teasing and I promise said sun-avoiding child knows it’s playful and is in on the joke.)
What is it about moving that makes you want to just curl in a ball and wish it was over? I have moved a lot, and it will take Jesus standing in front of me to make me do it again! And that's not blasphemous, I'm just done moving unless it's Him telling me to do it. I doubt I'm the only one to ever think that before.
We have a little left at the old house, and we hope to clean it out when it's not hot as Hades. It's supposed to be in the 100s today and the first sign of anything below 90 is next week. I bet I don't have to tell you how much worse it is to move when it's blazing hot outside.
I know I'm griping, so here's some thankfulness. I'm grateful that I can move. The space is amazing. I don't feel like a sardine, I love my new street. There are people on it that I know. I love the roses out front -- I have a row of five in all different colors and I wish you had smellavision because they are so fragrant. I love them. I've never had roses so pretty.
And, so far, my family has had dinner at the table every night since we moved the table in. I love that too. It doesn't feel like chaos when its dinner time. We've even played games after dinner. We've begun to establish new habits: ones that are good for us and our girls. I'm grateful for that. So, even though the moving part isn't so great, the result is amazing.