red flags

As expected, our off-season OBX vacation lived up to it's oppositional-defiant reputation. The red flags went up on Monday and stayed up until we started for home on Saturday...attesting to the gale-force winds, strong tidal currents, and turbulent surf that plagued us all week long.

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If I were a sun worshiper this would have been a huge disappointment. Then again, if I lived to worship the sun, I would have gone to the beach in July or August, not during monsoon season.

On a brighter note, however, it was a great week for playing with Caleb...

...and for reading. The problem was deciding what to read first.

So...first I finished "Midwives" by Chris Bohjalian.

This book has been sitting on my shelf for years. I started it a couple of times but it didn't engage me until recently. It's one of those books that basically lays out the plot at the beginning (A midwife loses a patient during childbirth and is sued by the patient's family.) The author then goes on to fill in the details, and in doing so creates an authentic portrait of life in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont. It took me back to my college days at UVM in Burlington. The most interesting thing to me, though, was the fact that the book was written from the point of view of the protagonist's 14 year old daughter...and Chris, the author, is male. I hurried to finish it just as we crossed the bridge onto the OBX. I didn't want to put it down.

Then I read through a short book on meditation by Pema Chodron, "Taking the Leap--Freeing Ourselves from Old Habits and Fears." In it she talks about tonglen meditation ( http://old-shambhala.shambhala.org/teachers/pema/tonglen1.php) and leaves us with this suggestion:

On to "The Art of Memoir" by Mary Karr, author of "The Liar's Club" and "Lit." I had to pre-order a copy because it wasn't released until Sept. 16th and we were leaving on the 19th, so on release day I ran over to our local B&N and picked up my copy. For the beach. 

 

Excellent! More than excellent. She nails the craft of memoir in this book. To quote: "The split self or inner conflict must manifest on the first pages and form the book's thrust or through line--some journey towards the self's overhaul by book's end." Then she tells the reader how other authors have accomplished this, and how we can, too.

Last but not least, I re-read Melody Beattie's classic "Codependent No More", first published in 1986 as a guide for people who are struggling with a loved one's addictive and/or self-destructive behaviors including not just chemical dependency, but gambling and sex addiction as well as work addiction.

With the recent resurgence of interest in "burnout" in the corporate world as well as among those in the caring professions--pastors, lawyers, and physicians--workaholism has taken its rightful place as an addictive disorder that negatively affects co-workers, family, and friends. I believe I had just the tiniest touch of it when I was in practice, raising three children, and generally keeping house and home together so I have an invested interest in the issue. More on that in the future...

So...that's the story behind our vacation--not exactly what we had hoped for, but otherwise just about perfect. I can see myself hunkering down for the winter soon with plenty to write about. With so much to read and so much to write about, it doesn't get much better than this.

What's on your reading list? What are you planning to write about?

jan

off-season at the beach

Just when autumn starts to nudge summer out of the way, our family packs up for the beach. After a couple of days of cool wet weather that has us thinking fondly of heavy sweaters and fashionable boots, I have to think about replenishing the supply of sunscreen and freshening up the beach towels.

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Going to the beach during off-season has its advantages, of course. The prices are lower. The traffic is lighter. The beach is empty which is a good thing for us because we'll have dogs with us.

There's no waiting to get into the restaurants, and sunburn isn't such a problem.

There are trade offs, however. The days are already getting shorter so it's hard to fit in those after-dinner walks along the water. The shops close early. In fact, by the time we arrive, some of them have already closed up for the season. Plus, some people simply can't make the trip in September because they teach. So, it can feel a little lonely down there.

This is a nice change of pace for vacationers who, like my husband, spend all day, every day working with people--patients, colleagues, and administrators. He likes nothing better than to sit on the beach and read all day, and I can't say I blame him. He enjoys the solitude.

I, on the other hand, spend almost all day, every day by myself. At home. Playing with words. Exchanging tidbits of news with the dust bunnies. After a while it can get lonely, so the traffic jam on the bridge to the Outer Banks feels like party time to me.

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When the shops and restaurants are crowded with children and (forgive me for saying this...) teenagers, I want to be part of it. Dodging frisbees and wayward kites on the beach is great fun, too. 

What about you? What is your idea of a perfect vacation? Are you an in-season or off-season person? Why?

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Plus...guess who's coming with us this year?

Perfect!

jan

be still my heart

There! I just sent my nonfiction book proposal off to an unsuspecting agent at a major Christian literary agency. I felt a momentary pang of anxiety just before I hit "send"...

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...and then, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Done.

You may have had a similar experience even if you're not a writer. Perhaps you remember what it felt like when the school bus door closed behind your kindergartner on the first day of school.

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You worried about her. Was she safe? Would she get to her destination? How would she get along there?

Or, you may have felt a surge of self-doubt when you submitted your resume for that job you've always wanted.

Or, perhaps it happened when the doctor called you back in to go over your test results.

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As well as we prepare for things, as important as they are to us, they slip so easily out of our control. And that can be scary.

I picture my proposal arriving in the agent's in-box today and moldering there for an indefinite period of time. It could be months. Years, actually. During that period of time misgivings will haunt me. Until I know for certain what her response is I will obsess over it. If she rejects it, I'll have to go through the same process again and again. If she accepts it, I'll have deadlines and edits to face. All of it part of the journey.

www.rozwalker.com

So...if you're sending you children off to school this month, or off to college, I hope it goes well for them--that they like their teachers, make new friends, and enjoy learning. I hope you get called in to interview for the job you want, or need. I hope your doctor has good news for you. Then you, too, can breathe a sigh of relief.

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Remember: Uncertainty and expectation sow the seeds of hope that only you can keep alive.

Now that my book proposal has gone in, I hope I can catch up on the laundry. I hope to get in an afternoon nap, and to make plans for the weekend. I hope my book is safe.

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"It doesn't hurt to be optimistic."

~Lucimar Santos de Lima~

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I hope you have an optimistic week!

jan

off topic

This week I’ll be in Pittsburgh taking care of my daughter's Great Dane, the one-and-only Zara.

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Zara

Last month, I had BK, my son's Pittie, for a week.

Brewknow

And, earlier this summer, I kept my other daughter's dog, Cooper.

Cooper

Even so, I miss my dog, Famke…

Famke

...which is why I enjoy spending time with my grand-dogs. It leads me to reminisce about all the dogs in my life and their stories. That’s why this week’s post is off topic for a writing blog. Except for the dog story part.

  

As a child, our first dog was a curly haired, black cocker spaniel named Fluffy. I don’t recall how we came to adopt her but I’m pretty sure we didn’t pay good money for her. Back in those days you did someone a favor when you took an unwanted dog off their hands. Fluffy was sixteen years old and losing her sight when she died. I was sixteen, too. My parents and brother were away for the week on a college tour so I was alone when someone hit her right in front of the house. I called my best friend…whose father was a hunter…because I knew what had to be done. He arrived within minutes, took aim, and pulled the trigger. He was kind enough to take old Fluff away, while I broke the news to my family by phone. It's as though it happened yesterday…

Then there was the gorgeous Irish Setter I picked out at the SPCA and named Penny. She was the intrepid wanderer. We would find her miles from home after getting a phone call from a total stranger in town, or after a random search of the area. So, it came as no surprise when she met the same fate as Fluffy on the highway leading out of town. The same exact fate.

Skippy was a happy mutt that wandered into the yard one day and just decided to stay…after I slipped him a bowl of good cold water and a bite to eat.

Then one day, he just moseyed off and we never saw him again.

Elsie was the orphaned Bassett hound my father brought home from the local bowling alley one cold January night…out of the goodness of his heart. Who doesn’t love a Bassett? But, alas, a week or so later, the owner showed up and back she went.

Then I grew up and got married. And got another dog, a Springer Spaniel we named Paco. As he grew older, he lost his sight to the point where he would just randomly walk into trees in the yard. We did the merciful thing with him in the end. His ashes are on the shelf…

…along with the ashes of Brandy, our first Golden. She lived a long life, too, but her demise was especially painful for us. We were on vacation and she was at her usual kennel for the week when they called to say she was sick—weak and short of breath. They took her to vet for us where the diagnosis was heart failure. A few days later they called back to say she was worse--suffering--and there was nothing more they could do for her. So, my husband asked them to put her down. He was kind enough not to mention it to the rest of us so we could continue to enjoy vacation. All week long he held it in, until we were on our way home.

Next came Macey, another Golden. 

Macey

In her day she could outrun any tennis ball and snag it out of the air with the accuracy of a stealth missile. She lived to the age of sixteen, eventually crippled with arthritis…just not a happy soul. We had to let her go just a couple of months ago.

And, at some point, we took in Max, our son's black Lab when he ended up in an apartment that didn’t allow pets. How rude!

Maxwell

Like Penny, Max was a wanderer. I spent many hours tracking him down in the fields around our house, and bailed him out of the pound one day when he got caught. He suffered a torn cartilage in his knee that never healed properly so the pain eventually got to him. He had a couple of aggressive episodes that forced him over the proverbial rainbow bridge when he was just five years old.

Last but not least was my Great Dane, Famke. 

Haunted by the demon of an abusive puppyhood she never got over, she unleashed her pent-up fear and anger on Zara one day. The vet offered testing, medication, and behavioral training in an effort to explain it away, and to prevent it from happening again, but I knew it was too big a risk to take, so Famke followed in Max’s paw prints. After all, we had a grandchild on the way…

Caleb

A dog is a furry pile of energy and affection. A protector. An entertainer. A listener and a healer. When you invite one into your life, you invite both laughter and heartache. When you lose a dog, you lose a little bit of yourself.

So…thank goodness we have Zara, BK, and Cooper now.

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"C'mon, girl. Let's go for a walk."

This blog is dedicated everyone who has ever loved and lost a dog.

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"Properly trained,

a man can be a dog's best friend."

~Corey Ford~

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jan

how to prune a manuscript

This week was "re-pot the house plants" week for me. Their roots needed a little room to stretch and a shot of plant food for encouragement. The problem is they went from this:

...and this:

...to this:

...because if you want your garden to flourish you have to trim it back every so often. Then the new flowers will come in fuller and thicker, and the plant will be stronger and better than ever. It was a painful process...cutting off all those blossoms with nothing but wishful thinking for the future.

It occurred to me that this is a lot like revising a manuscript, especially when it seems to be coming along just fine. Before you submit it, you have to uproot the whole thing, chop out passages that you think are perfect just the way they are, cut away the beautiful literary rhetoric, and then wait to see what develops.

Hopefully it will come back stronger, fuller, and tighter than ever. Your critique partners will "ooh" and "ahh" when they see what you have done. It will have been worth the time, effort, and loving kindness you put into it because, like your garden, your writing will be better.

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"To plant a garden 

is to believe in tomorrow."

~Audrey Hepburn~

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I was tempted not to blog today because it was just so beautiful outdoors and I was really busy this weekend:

But I couldn't help myself...

Have a great week!

jan

literary whiplash

I’m closing in on the final draft of my first official non-fiction book proposal and I have a bad case of literary whiplash. What sounded good to me yesterday sounds awful today. What held me back before actually does the trick now. Back and forth. Up and down. 'Round and 'round I go.

So…this is the overview of my book, Ten Faces of Faith—The Extraordinary Faith of Ordinary People and What We Can Learn from Them:

“Ten Faces of Faith introduces the reader to ten men and women who have endured some of life’s darkest moments—a child’s death, a life-threatening diagnosis, and a tragic accident, among others. Yet, despite all these people have been through, they continue to defend their faith in God’s all-powerful goodness and mercy. They don’t blame Him for their bad luck. They don’t feel as though He has abandoned or betrayed them. Instead, their stories help us reconcile the contradictions between what we have been taught to believe about a kind and compassionate God with the defeats we experience in our own lives.

This book does not attempt to interpret scripture, nor does it rely on scientific theories that argue for or against the existence of God. Instead, the stories in Ten Faces of Faith suggest that we may fail to recognize the hand of God at work in our lives because we may be looking for the wrong thing. 

Ten Faces of Faith explores the extraordinary faith of ordinary people, and how the pain they experienced opened their eyes to God’s presence in their lives.”

If you were an agent who handled Christian non-fiction would you bite? Your comments are welcome.

jan

don't quit your daydream

This past week I started reading “Writing from the Heart” by Nancy Slonim Aronie for the third time.

This book is intended to encourage and inspire reluctant or disheartened writers to trust themselves, to take the risk of writing from the heart. But I think all of us can benefit from it.

I know the author's words ring true to my experience. My inner critic is always beating up on my inner child, discouraging the poor kid from trying new things, nit-picking every unintentional goof-up, bullying her until she’s ready to give up completely. First, it was the dream of going to med school:

“The competition to get in is fierce.”

“Maybe nursing would be a better choice.”

“They don’t take many women, you know.”

Even now, later in life, I have to turn a deaf ear to all those other voices, the self-appointed experts who claim to have my best interests at heart as they rattle off disparagement:

“Start writing at your age? Really??”

“But you’ve never written a thing in your life.”

“Why would anyone give up a career in medicine? Why now??”

It’s no wonder we get discouraged as children when our creativity, curiosity, and energy levels are at their highest. The problem is that these same voices stalk us into adulthood. They can stop us in our tracks.

Which is why we all need encouragement, not just to write, but to live from the heart. As I read this book again, it occurs to me that we can all benefit from Aronie’s words, especially when we start to think about beginning again, when we still cling to a dream we once abandoned because we were told it was unrealistic, or unproductive, or unattainable.

Maybe you’re thinking about going back to school, or taking up piano. Maybe you’d like to try sky diving or scuba diving. Perhaps you’re drawn to carpentry or improv theater, but something inside you is holding you back.

“It’ll take too long.”

“It costs too much money.”

“I’d just be wasting my time.”

It may just be time to raise your voice. Stand up to that inner critic. Stick up for the child who was bullied out of following his/her heart. Make sure the same thing isn’t happening to you now.

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Have a great week!

jan