A2Z Take 2: Employment--Whose Captives They Were

Last week I was reading in Isaiah when a verse jumped out at me with a complete story scene embedded: "the house of Israel shall possess them in the land of the LORD for servants and handmaids: and they shall take them captives, whose captives they were; and they shall rule over their oppressors." ~ Isaiah 14:2 KJV

Then it occurred to me that it fit quite well with the "employment" theme of that week's FaithWriters' challenge topic, so I pounded it out on Wednesday after midnight to get it submitted in time for the Thursday morning deadline.

We'll see on Thursday if I can add an E with an Editor's Choice win. [Thurs edit: yeah, I got 3rd place!] In the mean time, enjoy the story. (I received permission to post it early since the judging is finished.)

Whose Captives They Were

By Amy Michelle Wiley

Tauthe huddled in the corner, her emotions churning like the sea she was named for. She watched the door, her own door, and stiffened as another woman entered.

For a moment the silence stretched between them, thickening, hardening. Then Aliya spoke. “Where is my supper?”

Touthe snapped upright. How dare she speak like that? Who was she to… Touthe swallowed. “I’ll fetch it.” She’d rather die than add the “my lady” that was expected at the end of every utterance.

It trailed between them, unspoken, as she left the room. In the kitchen she stared at the fire pit. How could she be expected to bend over the hot flames, know when the meat was cooked to the right temperature, choose the right spices, any of it? She lifted a piece of wood. The rough sides bit into her hand.

Anger welled in her toward the men of her village. How could they be so weak? So stupid as to let the Israelites conquer them? To force a lady such as herself to perform work such as this?

She flung the kindling to the floor. It crashed against the wall, sending a basket of food flying.

Aliya appeared in the doorway. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I will not do it. I will not cook or clean or serve my own slave.” She spat the words. Spat, like she wished she could spit right into this woman’s face.

“Former slave.” The Hebrew woman’s face twitched, almost as though she dared smirk. “And you will. I am the mistress now.” She turned to leave, then hesitated. “There are worse possible fates, you know.” Her voice seemed almost gentle. Almost sympathetic.

She left the room.

Touthe sunk to the floor. Her body trembled, with rage and with fear. To her great consternation, tears insisted on overflowing, dripping down her cheeks to make muddy puddles on the floor. The floor wouldn’t be muddy if she were still in charge.

How would she do this? How could she do this?

Something brushed her arm. She jerked.

Aliya bent nearby, picking up the spilled basket. She turned to Touthe. “Come, I will show you how to cook. You will learn so you may do it yourself.”

What? Touthe dashed away her tears. “Why would you do that?” She expected the answer to be something about wanting unburned food, not accepting badly-done work.

“My God is one to be feared and obeyed. He will not tolerate those who do not follow Him. Yet He is also a God of mercy and love, eager to embrace those who turn to Him." Aliya held out a hand, offering to help Touthe to her feet. "He is a God of forgiveness, willing to put past transgressions behind Him, giving a second chance. I wish to be like Him.”

Touthe stared at that hand, rough and work-stained. One she herself had slapped innumerable times.

“Will you learn from me?” Aliya pressed.

Touthe took a breath and grasped her hand. As she stood to her feet, she looked into the Hebrew’s eyes and nodded.

“Yes, my lady.”

___________________________

Check out more "E" posts at www.pattywysong.com.

All pictures are from www.sxc.hu. The woman photo is by Hector Landaeta, the fireplace by Rene Cerney, and basket by Mari Carmen Guinovart.

A2Z Take 2: Choose to Dance

From stock.xchng by Tracy Toh

A few years ago I happened upon the blog of a woman who had just been diagnosed with cancer—only a few days before her wedding. She wrote something that has stuck with me all these years. She said, “Tomorrow I will have cancer. Today I will have cake.”

At the time I was writing a novelette about a girl in Ravensbruck concentration camp during World War II. As a child I was fascinated with that time period and with concentration camps in particular. Yet something baffled me. What gave Christians, people who knew without a doubt they would spend eternity in heaven, the strength to keep fighting? To live through such horrible suffering? I don’t mean suicide; I mean why didn’t they just give up and let their bodies stop trying, stop fighting for each breath?

  

Little did I know that years later I would be in my own kind of prison, trapped within my body, suffering pain and exhaustion every day of my life. Years later, the answer to that childhood question would be vital to my own well-being.

As a teen I sought God in my questions, and He gave me an answer. Two answers, actually, as to why His people kept fighting for this life which can be so despicable at times.

First of all, we live for others. There are so many people on this earth who do not yet have that assurance of an eternity of joy. Many of them rub shoulders with us every day. We live, we endure suffering for one more minute because in that minute we just might have the chance to point someone to salvation.

Corrie ten Boom

Look at Corrie and Betsie ten Boom. When those sisters were in concentration camps, they spent every moment of their time seeking ways to understand God more clearly, to love Him more deeply, and to pass on that understanding to the prisoners around them. Many people accepted the saving grace of God because the Ten Booms were there suffering beside them, because those women chose to live another day for as long as their bodies could muster up the strength.

The second reason God showed me those people were able to keep living brings me back to my opening paragraph. They chose to eat cake. They chose to find joy in God and in life, no matter what horrible things they were going through physically and emotionally.

I named my novelette “I Will Dance” because my character found that joy. She knew that God was still good, that there were still things in life worth praising. Even as she stood with painful toothpick-thin legs on that filthy prison floor, she would choose to dance.

She also knew that the day ultimately would come when she would dance before Jesus on those golden streets of heaven. This suffering is only temporary. “I will dance today. And I will dance forever.”

In this world my own dancing has to be done internally, emotionally. The joy is expressed in my heart, but my body does not allow for much dancing with my legs. (I can, however, still eat cake!)

When I die I hope no one says I will “rest in peace.” No, I did all the resting I need here on this earth. I hope you all will say, “Dance in peace, girl, dance!”

sxc by galofgray

Check out more "D" posts at www.pattywysong.com and if you're a blogger, feel free to join the meme!

A2Z Take 2: Craft Pretties

I had a more elaborate idea for my "C" post but didn't end up having time since I'm still focusing on my novel revisions, so I decided to just post some pictures of some of the crafts I've done. I used to do a lot more crafting, but now I'm spending more of my time writing and my increased pain makes some things hard. But I did a lot of embroidery this fall.

Here are a couple greeting cards I designed and made:

I used to be constantly crocheting, mostly baby blankets.

This one was really fuzzy and extra-soft!

close-up of the white squares

And here are some drink coasters I made for holiday gifts this last year. I did the embroidery and then sewed felt on the backs.

Check out more "C" posts at Patternings and click the Take 2 picture below to find out how to join us to write your own blog post for the next letter!

A2Z Take 2: A Chat with Brandilyn Collins

As a special treat to celebrate B in our A2Z meme, I'm excited to have Brandilyn Collins with us today. She is the Christian author of the popular Seatbelt Suspense® books and is one of my favorite writers.

Brandilyn, thanks so much for joining us.

BC: Amy, nice to be with you and your readers. I’ll do my best to behave (but make no promises).

Haha, thanks! As I mentioned, I love your books and have gained a lot of inspiration from them, especially now as I'm writing a suspense book myself. Your first books, The Bradleyville Series, are contemporary Christian fiction with smaller elements of adventure. What prompted the switch to focus on the suspense genre?

BC: I didn’t really switch genres so much as focus. At the beginning of my career I was writing in both the contemporary and suspense genres. For marketing and branding purposes I needed to choose one genre. Suspense seemed the best choice at the time, due to its sales. I really did mourn losing contemporary for awhile. But choosing a genre was the right thing to do. To this day, I find that having written contemporaries really helps me in my characterization in suspense. (And when I wrote contemporaries, you can see my pull toward suspense in each of them.)

By the way, for those of you out there who don’t like suspense, try reading my Color the Sidewalk for Me. This is the second book in my Bradleyville series, and I think it’s the best in the series. In fact I think it’s one of the best books I’ve written.  

The title of that particular book is what first drew me to read your work, actually. It's such a lovely word picture and I enjoyed the story, as well.

I know several other of my blog readers also write suspense. Do you have any advice for those of us writing in that genre?

BC: Well, it’s very hard. I find it way harder than writing contemporary fiction. Suspense has some strong conventions: tighter and tighter trouble for the protagonist, chapter hooks, twists, etc. A good surprising twist is difficult to pull off. I always write on two levels—the surface level of what I want the reader to believe, and the underlying, real level where the truth resides. Often individual sentences must be able to sound correct for both levels. I lead the readers to assume A or B or C (regarding who the bad guy is and the outcome), when the truth is really D or E. Or A and E. Or F and Z. You get the picture. The reader will read a sentence with the assumption in mind. But when the truth is revealed, that reader should be able to go back and relook at the sentence and say—“Ah. That’s how she fooled me.” Calls for some very careful, precise writing.

If you’re going to write suspense, find some good suspense writers you enjoy and read them. Notice how they handle story structure, characterization, twists, chapter hooks, etc. I found when I was learning how to write fiction that my growth came 50% from reading and 50% from writing. Also—don’t forget that no matter how brilliant your premise is, readers will stop reading if they don’t care about your characters. It’s absolutely essential to make your readers empathize with your main character immediately. But without loading up the beginning with a bunch of backstory, which only slows the plot. And is boring. So there’s a balance. And that’s hard to find.

Sigh. Methinks in my next life I’ll be a rocket scientist. It’s easier.

I've got my work cut out for me! Glad I know some good suspense writers to study from. ;-)

When did you know you were called to be a writer?

BC: I can’t give you a specific date. I come from a family of writers, and I’ve always had the love of drama. In fact, drama was my first major in college, before journalism. I went from creating characters on the stage to creating them on the page. Once I began writing fiction I used what I’d learned through acting to create my characters. I wrote a book that takes seven techniques from the art of method acting and tweaks them for the novelist. It’s called Getting Into Character: Seven Secrets a Novelist Can Learn From Actors. It’s helped a lot of people, which makes me very happy.

I'm one of those people who have been aided by that book—thank you!

You've had bouts with Chronic Lyme Disease yourself. I suffer from Fibromyalgia and ME/CFS and/or Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Several of my blog followers also have debilitating chronic illnesses. I find it very difficult to find enough creative energy to write when my fatigue is acting up, which is often. Do you have any advice for writing in the midst of the fatigue, pain, and brain fog that comes with these types of conditions?

Brandilyn's novel about Lyme

BC: You can only do what you can do. I’d say push through it as much as possible, but writing is not as important as your health. During my difficult time with Lyme in 2002-2003, I fought to write when I had such terrible brain fog.  Amazingly I managed to write about 2/3 of a book. But then I became so sick that I simply had to stop. Had to call my editor and say, “I can’t do this. I have no idea when this book will be done, but I must stop.” And it was the right decision. I simply couldn’t push myself any more. I felt such relief to stop trying.

Do you have any general advice for those of us working on manuscripts or pitching completed ones to agents and publishers?

BC: Keep at it. That’s all I can tell you. Writing is a very, very hard business. Being rejected is very hard. (I know—I worked for 10 years to be published in fiction.) Along the way, if you want to quit—quit. Kick a cabinet or two and walk away. If you’re meant to be a writer, you’ll come back. If not, you’ll find what you are meant to do. I quit, oh, two to three times during that decade I was trying to land my first contract. Did me a world of good. Cleared my head, and by the time I came back I was ready to fight again. Besides—and hear me good now. (Perfect grammar or not.) Once you start being contracted, you can’t walk away. You can’t quit. You have to create, no matter if you’ve got a fever, or your kid is giving you fits, or your creativity is completely gone, or your parent dies, etc. If you’re not yet published, enjoy the ability to write only when you want to. I understand the push to be published. But I do wish I’d better enjoyed the time when I wasn’t. I could have been a lot easier on myself. The process is hard enough, and we writers tend to beat up on ourselves. We’re all a flaky lot, generally. Especially novelists.  

I can especially appreciate that advice now as I'm starting to feel the extra stress of having a publisher waiting to read my Reaching Sky manuscript. Speaking of current projects, can you tell us a little about the books you are working on right now?

BC: Right now I’m just starting my 25^th book, called Sidetracked. Another suspense. Last May my novel based on Lyme disease was released—Over the Edge.

On March 1 of this year my next novel is released—Gone to Ground. This is a great story, if I do say so myself. Three women in small-town Mississippi all realize to their horror that they’ve learned the identity of the serial killer who’s murdered six women in their town. And that person is someone very close to them. Each woman must make the difficult choice to bring the man down. But each woman suspects a different man. The book is told in first person from each of the three women—Cherrie Mae, black, 62; Dina, white, 36, and Tully, white, 19. Two races and three generations. Makes for an interesting mix. You can view the character-rich trailer here. I went to Mississippi to audition people for the voices so they’d sound right. And the Cherrie Mae on the video is the real-life Cherrie Mae I interviewed before writing the book (to get the African American dialect right). I ended up using her name for my character with her permission—then her actual voice on the book trailer.

In mid-October my next book will release. Double Blind is about a brain chip implant—gone terribly wrong.

Ah, nothing like making characters suffer.

Those sound exciting! And the trailer must have been fun to make. I'm looking forward to reading them.

Now just for fun, tell us something about you that isn't writing related.

BC: 1. I’m horrible at mechanical things. So bad it’s not funny.

2. I can’t kneel or squat, thanks to the damage Lyme left in my knees. Even after my miraculous healing from Lyme (if you haven’t read that story, please do!), this has continued. Amazingly I can still run my daily miles. So it doesn’t affect me too much.

Thanks, Brandilyn, for being here today!

BC: Thanks for inviting me. By the way, all you readers out there, if we’re not connected on FaceBook, just why not? You’re missing out on Today’s Word. Think how much smarter you could be. You can find me here.

Hop over to FaceBook to join Brandilyn's page and then check out my friends' B blog posts through the Mr. Linky on the bottom of Patty Wysong's blog. See you all next Tuesday.

A2Z Take 2: Antidote for a Neglected Blog

I took a break from blogging during November and if I'm not careful I could fall back into the very long apart, random blog posting that does not happen more often than it does. But what is the sure antidote for a neglected blog? A meme, of course! My friend Patty Wysong talked us into doing the A 2 Z 4 U & Me meme last year and I managed to post for all 26 letters. It worked so well we decided to do it again this year.

I've got some exciting posts planned, starting next week with an interview with one of my favorite authors, Brandilyn Collins. She kindly answered some questions about writing which I think we'll all benefit from. I think I'll play around with vlogging a little this year, too, and even do some fun story performances and the like.

Drawn by Amanda Morris

For this first post, I'll just give a quick update of the exciting things that have happened since I posted last. I was able to accomplish NaNoWriMo with just barely over 50,000 words. I fought a lot of fatigue that month, so I wasn't completely happy with my shambles of a disorderly manuscript, but I'm hopeful I have some good scenes to work with. A local lady in my area, Amanda Morris, is an artist and participates in NaNo by drawing character sketches for writers. This is one she did of my neglected child character, Renee. Isn't it great?

But for now Voices of the Dark is set aside to finish polishing up last year's novel. Which brings me to the exciting news that a publisher has requested the full manuscript of Reaching Sky! I'm excited to have that confirmation that someone else thinks my story and at least the chapters they saw have potential. I still have some work to do before I'm ready for them to see the whole thing, and the publisher generously gave me some feedback on something specific I can improve before I send it back. Now just to pray for energy to get it done, especially since I started back to work on Monday (even if it is only a couple hours a day).

Another exciting thing that recently happened is that one of my good friends, Jess Capps, finally got an answer to prayer and received a heart transplant. However, things got a little scary as the heart apparently went into shock and took ten days to recover. It was really hard being on the other side of the U.S. and not knowing much about what was going on. I'm praising God now that the heart did start working last week! I'm looking forward to chatting with Jess soon. I've missed her. [Added update as of the morning of Tues the 10th.] Looks like Jess's body is still having a lot of physical hurdles and is struggling. Please keep praying for her!


On New Year's weekend I got to teach my church congregation a song in sign language for our Worship topic. It was so awesome to see the whole church worshiping in ASL together. Many people told me they were amazingly blessed to be able to praise God with their whole body that way.

It's been a great start to 2012. Here's to many more blessings!

Check out more A posts at http://www.pattywysong.com/

Trying out a vlog

My friend Patty somehow talked a bunch of us into trying a video blog, or vlog. Glutton for punishment that I am, I decided not only to do a vlog but to do two--one in each of my languages. I thought I was going to be all clever and hold up some of the books I've been published in, but when I tried that in a test run, the titles were all backwards. :-\ So yeah, didn't do that. The content in the two videos isn't identical, but they are similar. The lighting isn't great, but hey, you can see me. ;-)

IN ENGLISH:

IN AMERICAN SIGN LANGUAGE:

Check out my friends' vlogs in the Linky at the bottom of Patty's post: http://www.pattywysong.com/2012/01/me-in-terrifying-technicolor.html

M&Ms and Apple Cores

For years a story has lingered in my mind. I didn't know much of it, but had a picture of a toddler huddled in the corner of a bare room. She was neglected, left to molder there and slowly draw farther and farther into herself. But one young man who passed occasionally through the house would do a small part to reach out to her. He shared his own favorite foods with her--a handful of M&Ms and the core of his partially-eaten apple.

In my mind and planning, that book eventually changed from M&Ms and Apple Cores to Above the Clouds, the sequel to my first novel, Reaching Sky. Then it made another metamorphose to become the sub-plot to my current work in progress, Voices of the Dark. This scene is part of what resulted from that original vision.

Excerpt from Voices of the Dark

“Jasper, I’m the one taking care of the little girl.” Jesse and I sat down and I pulled out the picture of Renee and held it out to the man. “You know her?”

He peered at it, his face so young and innocent, in glaring opposition to the prison jumper he wore. His eyes were dark brown and full of…. It almost looked like empathy.

“Yeah, that’s the boss’s kid.”

“She’s Garth Keane’s daughter? Who is the mother?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I ain’t never heard no mom mentioned. I jest assumed she was either dead or didn’t want nothin’ to do with some crack-head baby.”

“How long have you known the toddler?”

“I been…” he looked away, “hanging around there 'bout a year, I guess. She was always there. She just stayed in the back room, away from everything.”

“Who took care of her?”

He frowned, his eyes boyish and uncertain. “Well, no one, really. She just stayed back there. If she come out in the middle of something the boss would yell at her to git back in.” He leaned forward. “He didn’t want her hurt, you know. Didn’t want the gang guys to mess with her.”

“So Garth loved her? Protected her?” I couldn't make that fit with what I'd seen.

He shifted his weight. “Loved? Well, I dunno. I never really saw him do much else with her.”

“What’s her name?”

He shrugged again. “I never heard her called nothing 'cept girl.”

He didn’t say it like she was a thing. Even in the middle of all the drugs and neglect, for some reason this kid had cared about her, just a little. I could sense that. I could see the title, not “girl” but an almost-name; Gurl.

“But who fed her and all that?”

“I brought her food sometimes. I would give her the core of my apple and once in a while, when the boss was passed out, I’d give her M&Ms. She loved those!” He grinned. “I’d set ‘em down and she’d grab a handful and stuff ‘em in her mouth and then play with the others, grouping them by color, you know? Then eating the rest one by one, a color at a time.”

That was good news. If she could sort things by color then she at least had a basic understanding of categories.

There was one other thing I had to ask. “With all the drugs and everything… Meth tends to…” How did I say it politely?

“Up your sexual drive,” Jesse came to my rescue, if bluntly.

“Yeah.” I tried not to flush. “But the doctor said no one bothered her that way.”

Jasper squirmed. “Well, I think maybe that’s why the boss kept her in the back room. You know, to make sure no one was bothering her. I was pretty much the only one he’d let in there.”

That explained that. So Garth at least had some kind of protective feelings for her. I wished I could talk to him, find out where she’d come from, why he had her in that situation.

“So you never saw the other guys interacting with her?”

“Well,” he squirmed again. “This one guy was sort of eyeing her. She was getting older, you know? That’s why I—” He broke off, his face paling. “I mean, I’m glad she’s safe now, that’s all.”

I made a mental note to mull over that response later.

“But there were plenty of other girls around. I guess that kept her safe too, you know?”

“Other girls?” Jesse broke in again. “Like prostitutes you mean?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He studied his hands like they were suddenly the most important thing in the room.

Something about how he’d said "girls" didn’t set right with me. “Other girls. Like what age?”

“I dunno.” He shifted again, his gaze darting from me to his hands to the floor.

A weight, a premonition, settled on my chest. “Jasper,” I braced a hand on my chair, “this is really important. Were these older girls, like your age? Or were they younger? Lots younger?”

His reply was barely a whisper. “Younger.”

It was just one word, but it hung there, draining every bit of air from the room. And with it, my secure world behind to fall apart.

© 2011 Amy Michelle Wiley

Joanne is hosting more Friday Fiction stories at An Open Book. Check it out for more great reads!

A 2 Z: Zany Madi

When I joined FaithWriters in 2005, Lynda Lee Schab was one of the first people to welcome and encourage me. (Back then I called her Ikab, due to a misreading of her all-lowercase username of LSchab.)

Lynda has stayed a few steps ahead of me, paving the way in this writing journey that started with freelance writing of smaller works that led to novels, agents, and publishers. In fact, her first novel, Mind Over Madi, was accepted by a publisher and is coming out in print TODAY!

I was thrilled to get an advance reader copy a few weeks ago, though I will admit that chick lit and romance fiction are near the bottom of my list of preferred genres. But as I expected, Lynda’s writing is stellar and I never once groaned over something too sappy and never got the least bit bored. In fact, I enjoyed the book a lot.

Lynda’s character, zany Madi McCall, grew up in a somewhat dysfunctional home. Now with a family of her own, she is haunted by the fears her mother instilled in her to never, ever trust a man, because all men will cheat eventually. Yet so far her own husband Rich is a patient, Godly guy, and she has gotten to the point where she finally feels like she can trust him.

Then her worst fears are realized. She finds another lady’s lipstick on his collar. Her mother was right! And she recognizes the shade of lipstick, too. Only that sleazy Fawn Witchburn wears dark, almost-brown like that.

Madi orders Rich to leave the house immediately. After all, no explanation can possibly be a good one, right? He packs his bag, leaving Madi to answer the questions of their three kids. She tumbles into despair, the way paved liberally with Edy’s Dibs, her favorite chocolate ice cream dessert. Well, if she’s honest, maybe they are more of a coping mechanism than just a dessert. That and hours of playing Solitary on the computer.

With sometimes-hilarious twists and turns, Madi begins the zany life of a now-single mom to a tween and not just two teens, but twin teens, both in the midst of their own relationship dramas. Then Madi’s best friend calls and somehow manages to convince her that going to their high school reunion is a good idea.

Madi keeps on the go with her kids, her friend, and even a few meetings with a new therapist, resulting in her effectively avoiding God during the busyness. Her therapist reminds her that she is a true princess—a daughter of the King—but Madi sure doesn’t feel very royal. And the extra pounds those Dibs added don’t help.

Plus, it seems like Fawn is showing up everywhere she goes, and things come to a head when a Michigan snowstorm traps them all—the high school reunion goers, Fawn, and even one of the kids’ friends—in the same restaurant for a few hairy hours.

Madi comes face-to-face with “the other woman” and she begins to realize that maybe, just maybe, not everything is how it seemed. Will she find the truth once and for all about her husband? Is her marriage salvageable? Or is her mother right that men can never be trusted?

You’ll have to read the book to find out! Lynda uses lots of humor and wacky characters, mixed with real-to-life situations, as she brings Madi on a journey to accept that she truly is a princess of the Lord. Order a copy today (just in time for Christmas gifts) by clicking here. Find out more about Lynda and her other published works at her website, http://www.lyndaschab.com/.

________________
As always, check out other "Z" posts in the "From A 2 Z 4 U & Me" meme at http://www.pattywysong.com/. I can't believe we're already to the end of the alphabet! But keep checking back for weekly updates about my novel-in-process and other fun posts.

A 2 Z: Young Treasures

Yesterday I had the privilege of seeing my oldest niece in her acting debut as an Oompa Loompa in the musical Charlie in the Chocolate Factory. She did a great job! She has a wonderful singing voice, so it was cool that she got to use it and try out acting. I love the Willy Wonka story, so it was extra fun to see the Christian Youth Theater perform it. They were wonderful and the set was impressive.

I'm also focusing on Youth in my NaNo novel, Voices of the Dark, though as the title implies, the book looks at a darker aspect. My main character, Adria Kingston, is doing what she can to fight against child abuse.

Most of us would never dream of hurting a child, and indeed cannot begin to understand what could happen inside a person that they would allow themselves to so seriously abuse a little kid. Yet all around us there are children aching, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

But we do have the power to help. We can be aware of what is happening around us, aware of the children of our neighbors, friends, coworkers, and strangers. Be willing to step forward and do something if we see inappropriate behavior and teach our own children or students how to treat those around us.

Now for a short excerpt from the rough draft of the book. I'm way behind on my word count goal and have been busy and not feeling well at all, so thank you for your continued prayer and encouragement.

From VOICES OF THE DARK

By Amy Michelle Wiley

We passed through the clinic's waiting room and I noticed a man standing near the reception counter. His muscled arm wrapped around a fluffy brown teddy bear. He stepped forward. “Adria Kingston?”

“Yes?” I frowned and put a protective hand on the child’s head.

“I’m Chaplain Jesse Carmichael.” He held out a hand. “I was told Garth Keane’s living relative had been brought here?”

“Garth Keane?” I shook his hand automatically, my mind racing to connect the name with something.

“The man who was shot today.”

“Oh.” I looked down at the child, who once again had her arms hugged around her body, her chin tucked tight against her chest. Garth Keane’s living relative. I tried to wrap my mind around that, connect the tiny child with the bloody body.

The chaplian knelt before her, his tall body folding in on itself. A smile brought out a single dimple in his left cheek and suddenly he looked charming, almost boyish. “Hi. I’m Jesse.” He held out the teddy bear. “Look what I brought you.”

Her gaze remained on the gray carpet.

“His fur is really soft. He gives great hugs, too.”

Her head still didn’t move, but I saw her eyes shift, fastening on the bear.

“Isn’t he silky?” Chaplain Carmichael drew the stuffed animal’s fur across her arm, back and forth. “Here you go. You can have him.”

A tiny hand reached out. Slowly, hesitantly. A pale finger, stained with grime, touched the tan fur.

Her hand snapped back to her chest.

“Wasn’t that soft?” The chaplain didn’t seem phased. “You wanna touch him again?”

This time both hands reached out. She caressed him, her hand trembling. Then she took the bear and pulled him to her chest. A tiny sigh escaped her lips.

I couldn’t help grinning at the man, a stranger though he may be. He looked up at me, his eyes glowing.

“Thank you,” I mouthed. I handed him my business card, but my gaze strayed to the child. She was in my custody now, officially my foster daughter, but I knew so little about her. I knew only that someone hadn’t taken care of her, hadn’t had enough love even to share with a tiny, precious girl.

In their neglect they’d forgotten to feed her, clean her, or even touch her. Was it possible they’d even forgotten to name her?

© 2011 Amy Michelle Wiley

__________________________

As always, check out more "Y" posts in the "From A 2 Z 4 U & Me" meme at www.pattywysong.com.

A 2 Z: Xacwihlas (The Twining)

I wrote this story months ago as the third installment of fantasy stories of Kira's Saga. You can read "Kira's Challenge" here and "Lakira's Life" here, but this story is stand-alone enough that you don't need to read the others in order to understand it.

Xacwihlas ("The Twining")

Kira ran a hand down the softness of her gown, her heart soaring as high as the sky that mingled with the blue of her dress. Her little sister and mother fussed around her, but she did not hear their chatter, did not bother with their last-minute fluttering. For she was ready. Ready in her heart, where it mattered most.

Finally they let her free of the encumberments that held her away from him. Away from her love.

She stepped out of the hut. His eyes drew hers like magnets and she latched on. Her heart would burst any moment, exploding to send her careening in wild fragments to the sky, to the heaven that had created this match.

Her feet moved toward him. Faster, faster, she wanted to fly, but her sister traipsing before her forced Kira to slow. The child’s hands move delicately, dancing to music Kira did not hear; her heart sang a song of its own that filled her.

Yet the song was not a solo, for many other melodies flowed into it from around her. Her friend Sylan beamed, and ducked her head shyly toward her own young man. Pazayita’s baby gurgled and reached a chubby hand to brush the silky threads of rainbow colors that drifted about Kira’s head.

Mikot was waiting. Waiting, draped in a soft brown that matched his eyes. They would be the touching of sky and earth, and where they met the sun itself would explode in fiery glory of love. Together they would rise to march across time in a brief arch of history.

She stood before him and now had to open her ears. It was not hard, for her heart already beat in time to the melody of his voice.

“Te etqesia avon Tytagvan Xacwihlas, u tiiy ah.” His promise was beautiful, perfect. “The Creator has granted us union, so I pledge before Him that I will walk beside you through our life, though it bring plenty or famine, safety or danger, strength or weakness.”

 

Kira’s voice echoed his words, not lessening in the repetition, but strengthening with the union.

The family surrounded them, each holding a ribbon of color. They danced, weaving in and out to create a tent around the couple, formed of individual strands interconnected to form a whole.

Mikot reached out a hand and Kira met it, their fingers intertwining as they spoke in unison. “And so as blessed by the Creator, I will walk with you and only you, as long as breath shall fill my lungs, we shall be one.”

_________________________________

As always, check out more "X" posts in the "From A 2 Z 4 U & Me" meme starting on Tuesday at www.pattywysong.com. I'm curious to see what my creative friends come up with for this difficult letter!

A 2 Z: Wiley Update

My family moved this week, from a huge house in the country to a small house with a wonky floor plan in the city--not something we wanted, but here we are. We're still in the process of sorting through all the clutter in the old house. It seems rather endless, but we're making slow progress. The cold we're passing around the family isn't helping much.

Can you see the raccoon
print in the foreground?

The good news is that my oldest sister and her family are buying the country house, and the acreage will be perfect for her kids and the rabbits they raise. And while I miss the mountain and foothill view, I'm pleased that at least our new backyard looks into mostly trees with lots of songbirds. We even have raccoons, according to the muddy footprints on the patio door.

I'm enjoying the scenic drive to work, getting to cross the gorgeous Columbia River Gorge everyday, and the added beauty of the fall colors. The eight hours a week interpreting at a community college is just about the right amount for my body.

Other news is that I finally got referred to a real sleep study. It should get set up soon. The specialist wanted to know what my plan is if the study doesn't show anything. Ummm.... not sleep? And isn't that kind of crossing a bridge before we have to? I'm glad he has such confidence that the test will be helpful, ha. But hey, at least he ordered it. I'm praying they'll find something that will help us find a way for me to stay asleep long enough to actually get healing deep sleep.

I didn't meet my goal of having the next draft of Reaching Sky done before November so the next beta readers can look at it while I'm doing NaNoWriMo, but I am entering it in FaithWriters' Page Turner contest and continuing to look for a publisher or agent. I'm really excited about my next book, Voices of the Dark, too, and hoping my health will let me participate fully in NaNoWriMo. Check out my FaceBook author page to hear updates on the book during November.

Next week I'll be taking the written part of the National Interpreter Certification test. It's suppose to be fairly easy (unlike the performance part, which I plan to take in December) and will have questions about Deaf culture, disability laws, and interpreting techniques and ethics.

So, I guess that's the update for this youngest Wiley. :-) As always, find more "W" posts in the "From A 2 Z 4 U & Me" at Patty's blog, Ordinary Lives.

Oh, if you have a blog roll, feel free to add my button that Mari made for me. Just copy the html in the box and you'll get a button like this. Thanks!


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A 2 Z: Voices of the Dark

Can you hear them? The voices echo from the darkness. Pleading. Sobs of young girls, crying for help. They call from the shadows, hidden right behind you. Locked in your neighbor's house. Abused by the people you rub shoulders with everyday. Used like a thing, void of worth.

They cry out, but no one notices. Life moves on around them, leaving them behind in forgotten brutality. We do not hear, do not pause to listen because we do not know they are there. They cry until they can cry no more, all hope, all goodness fled, drowned out by the dirtiness of the suppression smothering them.

Only if we cross paths, if it's our daughter who is stolen, only then do we take note. We listen, we hear them cry, but stand helpless. What can we do? How can one person stand against such a flood of evil? Is it too late? These children have their innocence stripped. They are old now, worn in a way no human should be. Old beyond our imaginings.

But one woman hears. Adria Kingston works as a trauma counselor and stumbled by chance across that line. Life, goodness, worth on one side; death, abuse, and horror on the other side. What can she do? Can she risk everything--her life, her new foster daughter, her innocence--to step across that line?

Once, years before, she'd faced that darkness. That time she'd run away, clapping a hand over her ears, her eyes, to drown out the silent call, the desperate pleading gaze. She had turned away once. Had almost forgotten.

But never again.

This time Adria will face the darkness and win. She'll reach a hand across the line. She will save a life, one girl at a time, and rebuild hope. Adria Kingston is listening to the voices of the dark.

Will you?

_______________________________

Voices of the Dark by Amy Michelle Wiley is coming soon to a bookshelf near you. To get involved today in the fight against human trafficking and sex slavery happening right here in the U.S. and around the world, check out Shared Hope International.

This is the book I'm preparing to write next month for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). It's an idea I've had for ages enhanced with a new plot-line about human trafficking. Though the topic is very dark, I have ideas of how I will write it so it is powerful and suspenseful, but not too dark and not explicit at all.

As always, check out more "V" posts in the "From A 2 Z 4 U & Me" meme at Ordinary Lives.

A 2 Z: Unmatched

My friend and amazing writer, Jan Ackerson, has a flash fiction blog where she posts stories that are each exactly 100 words long. Last month she held a contest inviting people to take one of her stories or a character from a story and expand upon it. I used post 26 for mine. My original title was "Just Like You" but I decided this title would go with the story and make it fit this week's post. Here's my version:

UNMATCHED

By Amy Michelle Wiley

Her skin is a rich chocolate brown. She coos and waves a dark fist at me, her cheeks plumping, almost smiling.

He won’t get to see her first smile.

I look at her, really look for the first time since the funeral. She has his skin, his dark hair that will surely turn into a curly, tangled mess when it gets longer. And his eyes. Hers are still the dark blue of newborns, but I can tell already that they’ll darken. Will they ever hold the same expressions as his? Like that twinkling brightness he would get when I’d done something he found amusing, but didn’t dare laugh aloud at. Or the darkening that let me know he felt my pain, felt my hurt, whatever it might be.

What minor heartaches they were back then. Only weeks ago I had no idea what true pain was. Those twinges were nothing compared to the shattering blow I now know is possible.

I pick the baby up and hold her by the mirror. My face looks shockingly white. Even the dark circles under my eyes are pale compared to the newborn I cradle. She is so much of him. I should feel thankful, happy I have this constant part of the man I lost.

But something selfish in me wants to see myself, too. If I have only him in my thoughts I will drown, lost in the sea of grief. I need something that is both of us, mixed together, making perfection in a tiny bundle that is equally me.

Her face turns up, curious at the mirrored reflections, and I search her features, looking for something in her bone structure, in the shape of her nose, anything. My shoulders slump and I turn away, settling her into the stroller. We leave the house and the cold wind bites through my jacket, a chill seeping all the way to my bones.

I tuck the blanket more tightly around her and walk toward the subway station. My hands and feet move without me, leaving my heart—my soul—far behind.

Someone helps me close the stroller and stow it. I settle on the cold train bench, the baby’s body a warmth against my chest. I notice nothing until a voice breaks through. I look up, focus my eyes, and see a young girl watching me, her body straight and eyes alert.

“Hey.” She points toward us. “That baby looks just like you.”

_____________________________

The baby picture was photographed by Simon Gray and the stroller by Kriss Szkurlatowski .

As always, find more "U" posts in the "From A 2 Z 4 U & Me" meme at www.pattywysong.com and feel free to jump in with your own blog.

A 2 Z: Terping your Thoughts... or "Life as an interpreter"

Note the solid, dark shirt. We have to
wear tops that contrast with our
hands so the signs can be seen clearly.

Okay, so I'm cheating a little on this letter, but we interpreters do nickname ourselves "terps" (and yes, we're aware that it sounds a lot like "twerp") so I thought I'd Take the opportunity to share a little about my job.

I'm a professional sign language interpreter. I work in college classrooms (but I am not a teacher or a teacher's aide and I don't know braille, just to get the common misunderstandings out of the way first thing). When there is a Deaf student in the class (not "hearing impaired," please), I interpret the lecture and any teacher or student comments into American Sign Language, and I voice into English any of the Deaf person's comments.


They say it takes about seven years to become fluent in a language. I've been playing around with signs since I was young. I studied ASL formally for about seven years, including training to be an interpreter for about four years, and since then have been interpreting professionally for 15 months.

The actual skill of interpreting is, perhaps, harder than it might seem at first thought, especially since sign language is silent and therefore often interpreted simultaneously. We have to hear the message, break it down into ideas/concepts, switch it into the grammar and syntax of the other language, make any cultural adjustments necessary, and produce the thought. All of this has to be done in seconds while still listening or watching to retain the next thing the person is saying. This is one well-known interpreting teacher's diagram of what all has to happen for an accurate interpretation:

Researchers have found that interpreting takes so much brain power that it's most accurate if a person only has to do it in twenty-minute segments. In most settings we work in teams with two interpreters so we can switch off every fifteen to twenty minutes. I find that my body is very happy about the breaks as well as my brain, given my physical limitations. We also have to juggle issues with location in the classroom so we can maintain a sight-line with the client but not block the hearing students from seeing the teacher or blackboard, hold information if our student is looking at notes or diagrams, deal with accents, etc.

Like my determined expression as I'm
showing a pig running away? hehe
ASL is a very visually expressive language.

Okay, I feel like I'm making this out to be the hardest job ever, haha. It's not that bad, though as a student, interpreting seemed impossibly difficult. Something like an idiom that took longer to figure out the meaning could completely derail me. But as I've gained experience I've found that yes, it's always hard work, but it's not so impossibly challenging anymore. And it's actually really, really fun! One hard part for me now is not getting to join the conversation myself, which those of you who know talkative me will find amusing. ;-)

I've always loved words and people and I find languages and cultures fascinating. Interpreting has proved to be the ideal job for me. I love it! It requires the presence and interaction of other humans and I get to use words all day--perfect. My physical limitations mean I can only work a few hours a day, so college interpreting works very well. I interpret about two classes each term and that time is spent alternating between resting (though still staying aware of what's happening so I can help my team if they need it) and gentle movements of signing.

I also volunteer interpret at my church and especially love interpreting music. It's like worshiping with my whole body. You can see a video of me signing "Blessed Be the Name" here.

Speaking of my "team" (another T word!), even though it's only one person, we still call our co-worker a "team" like it's a whole group of people. Funny. Another term is a "feed" which is when the interpreter misses some information and looks to their team to feed it to them.

That's my job in not so much of a nutshell.

As always, check out more "T" blogs in the "From A 2 Z 4 U & Me" meme here www.pattywysong.com

A 2 Z: Safari Snapshots

A few years ago I read a submission to one of my Peculiar People projects and fell in love with the characters and the writing style. The author was Lisa Mikitarian and that encounter began what became a friendship between us. I still think of her story in that book as the one about the two “small brown boys” finding forgiveness, because that phrase of it has stuck in my mind all these years.

I’m now thrilled to announce that Lisa has had a whole book of her short stories published. I’m proud to take credit for being the one who "discovered" her talent and published her first, and was excited to get a copy of this collection. She weaves the most delightful stories; ones that are powerful because of the truth and real-to-life experiences woven through them all.



Her Safari: Snapshots Along the Way, is focused on women characters in all stages and walks of life. You’re sure to find a story that resonates with your own, as well as getting some chuckles and maybe even tears. She even wrote one character who has fibromyalgia, the same disease I have. The short story format is perfect for reading one before bed each night—though be careful because if you’re like me you’ll stay up late reading “just one more” because they are so engaging.

I read Lisa's book in entirety last month but now as I've skimmed it, looking for my favorite story to share with you, I'm finding quite a number of "favorite" stories. Her book is worth reading several times, apparently. Here's an excerpt from one of the stories, "You Are No Dachshund," about a mom getting a puppy for the family. They've decided that, objectively speaking, a dachshund would be the best choice (though the mom had sort of dreamed of a bigger dog).

But a funny thing happened en route to the breeder, who lived out in a barely populated countryside. Frieda was driving along, minding her own business, when her eye veered off the side of the road, caught by a gigantic cardboard sign outside a ramshackle gas station and convenience store. FREE PUPPIES, it shouted. She pulled into the parking lot, suddenly thirsty. There would be no peeking at the puppies. Under any circumstances. 

They called to her from a box next to the cash register, but she ignored them. 

Back outside, in the Indian summer air, she found an ultra-smooth bench that appeared to have been a church pew in an earlier life. She sat down and twisted open the Coke she'd just purchased, feeling slightly guilty. Simon didn't approve of carbonated beverages. It burned going down her throat, but she let it. Her pipes weren't going to become corroded from one bottle. 

That's when she heard the muffled yelping over the fizzle of her drink.

Read the rest of the story by ordering a copy of Her Safari here. While you're at it, get some for the women on your holiday shopping list, too. And wait, there's more! If you comment on this blog, you will be entered into a drawing to win a $5 Starbucks gift card. The drawing will be held on September 28th. The winner will be announced here, so be sure to check back.

As always, read more "S" posts in the "From A 2 Z 4 U & Me" meme at www.pattywysong.com and feel free to jump in with a post of your own.