A 2 Z: FaithWriter Friends

In April of 2005 I was coming out of the darkest time of my life. A year and a half of severe germphobia and depression had hit me out of nowhere (though my grandmother's unexpected death may have played a part). My personality is somewhat happy-go-lucky and I'm not one to spend too much energy worrying, so my family and I were dazed by my spiral into OCD so severe I was spending every minute in complete panic and most of my time frantically cleaning or showering.

By God's grace we finally found a medication that fulfilled what my body was lacking and as my brain chemicals slowly righted, I began to look elsewhere to fill my time and thoughts. I found a message board online for one of my family's favorite TV shows, Doc, and began participating in fan fiction. I've considered myself a writer all my life, but this was the first time strangers had seen my work. They loved it.

I decided I wanted to find a place online where I could post other short stories I was working on. A search for Christian writing groups pulled up FaithWriters, but a look at their thousands of members had me convinced I would be lost in the shuffle.

God brought me back there a few days later and I joined and posted a story or two, and found their message boards. Most of all, I also found the weekly writing challenge. Let's just say I wasn't exactly "lost in the shuffle." In fact, in an interview with me a year later Lynda Schab said I "burst into FaithWriters... like a firecracker."

More about that in a minute. First, let me explain that the writing challenge gives a word or phrase prompt and then participants have one week to write something on that topic that is between 150 to 750 words (that's a max of a page and a half). In all of my 23 years of life I'd only finished a handful of stories. Dozens more floated around stuck in my head. A few had managed to leak a few paragraphs out on paper before I was distracted with another idea. The short stories I'd written for school had ended up being pages and pages long.

The first challenge topic I tried was "Thanksgiving." My rough daft was several thousand words. Somehow I managed to cut most of it and find a remnant of the story that still made sense in 750 words. (I later became known as the master surgeon.) I submitted and nervously waited for it to become live anonymously, and then a whole week passed before I'd know the judging results. Comments, those coveted golden boxes, poured in on that and even a few on the other regular stories I'd posted.

That became my first story accepted for publication. I was shocked when I got first place in the beginners level and second place overall. My family had told me I was good at writing, but this was confirmation from strangers! The next week I again placed second. In a time when life was difficult, it was a blessing to have God grant me a talent that made something, at least, come somewhat easy. Over the next two years I entered every single week and my writing grew in leaps and bounds, thanks to the practice and the many FaithWriters who took me under their wings and mentored and critiqued me.

But besides giving me writing help, the people of FaithWriters did even more. They were friends, prayer partners, counsellors, and life-lines. As I continued to crawl out of the dark pit and into a more healthy and functional life, they walked alongside me through emails, instant messaging, the message boards, and even phone calls. They did not judge me, but loved me and guided me and supported me. (Many of you are reading this, so I want to say, "Thank you!" Thank you for allowing God to use you in my life then, and now.)

Now six years later, I still count many individual FaithWriters among my very closest friends. I only enter the challenge occasionally now, as I'm trying to focus on my novel, but the FW community remains a vital part of my life. I have been the assistant conference coordinator for a few years now and last year had the honor of being invited to also teach a workshop. I teach again this year and am even more excited about my topic (how to bring your writing to life).

I've been to a few other Christian writing conferences, but the FaithWriter ones are unique because the people there are already a tight-knit community, to which any newcomers are quickly welcomed. The workshops are mostly taught with in-house speakers--FW members who have experience and skill in specific areas. Between and after the informative sessions, the time is filled with hugs, prayers, laughter and games (in fact, we tend to stay up half the night playing together). Sally Stuart, the famous director of the yearly Christian Writers' Market Guide, spoke at one of our conferences and mentioned how special of a feel this one had in comparison to the many, many others she'd spoken at.

Speaking of the conference, how would YOU like to come? It's in Detroit on August 12th and 13th, and guess what? The Early Bird special has been extended until the end of June. You still have time to sign up! And as well as the conference being extra-special, it's also extra-cheap, and if you find good airfare then the cost of the conference and airplane tickets are comparable to just the workshop costs of other conferences. So, if you're a writer or have always wanted to be a writer, hurry over to www.faithwriters.com/conference.php. See you there!

For more "F" posts from bloggers participating in the "From A 2 Z 4 U and Me" meme, check http://www.pattywysong.com/.

A 2 Z: Eternity

Eternity. It's a concept that is hard for us to understand while we are stuck in the time-space continuum of life on earth. Yet it's something we long for and dream for.

He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. Ecc 3:11b

I see evidence around me that there is a Creator, and feel Him in my soul. I see that there is good and evil in the world, and believe that there is an eternal resting place for both God and Satan. Just as the angels had a choice, so do we humans have a choice of which destination we prefer, heaven or hell.

Each of our actions is a choice, and there is no fence to balance on—it's one side or the other. But we can be assured that if we do choose to accept the forgiveness and purity Jesus's blood offers, then we know with 100% conviction that we can spent eternity with God in heaven.

I love to dream of what it will be like in heaven. I do not picture it as cartoons and movies do, with people sitting on clouds playing a harp. No, I see it as something much more full of life than just that.

Behold, I will create new heavens and a new earth... But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create, for I will create Jerusalem to be a delight and its people a joy... They will build houses and dwell in them; they will plant vineyards and eat their fruit... Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear. (From Isaiah 65.)

I see earth as a dim reflection of heaven. We will worship the glory of God continuously, yet I believe that tending His creation is a form of worship. I plan to have a cocoa orchard and a sugar cane field. Come visit me and enjoy His chocolate!

We are also told we will have new bodies, yet it seems we will have the same soul, the same essence. I see myself as still a storyteller, writing or telling stories that show God's glory and praise His name. I will write of the acts He does among His people and angels. Maybe we'll be able to know of things that happened back on earth, and tell of the ways He cared for His people and touched their lifes in ways they never saw. I'll also write of the things we have yet to learn about Him. For so great and awesome is our God that even an eternity is not enough to know Him truely and completely.

The Bible often mentions that there is a Book of Life and we only will reach heaven if our names are written therein. Names are important to me—I've been known to spend hours pouring over a baby name book just for fun. We see many times that names are also important to God, when He's chosen names or changed names to fit people's personalities or triumphs. I see even in my sisters and I that are personalities kind of go with our name meanings.

I like to think each of us have a unique name that belongs only to our one soul. God, the great God, will stand at the gate of heaven and call out MY name! I will know it instantly because it is me. It is the epitome of everything good He put within me that makes me uniquely Me.

Check out links to my friends' blogs for "E" for the "From A 2 Z 4 U and Me" meme http://www.pattywysong.com/. If you're a blogger, jump right in next week with "F"!

A 2 Z: Dragons!

My ideas for the "D" week kept coming back to dragons, even though I really don't have that much to say about them. I loved the movie How to Train a Dragon (although Toothless is a stupid name for a dragon, just saying) and as a child I used to run around the house swinging an imaginary sword, yelling, "One, two! One, two! The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! and with his head he went galumping back." (from "Jabberwocky," of course).

Then it occurred to me that each of us have our own dragons we hunt and maybe even slay, everyday. We gain strength, wisdom, and even respect from each of our battles. The Bible tells us to put on the full armor of God everyday, so we're ready to fight our dragons. Besides the ones that come from Satan and his minions, we have the everyday battles each of us face. Some days just getting out of bed is a battle, or going to work, or cleaning the bathroom. Some of the dragons in our lives are sinful ones we must actively seek out with our vorpal blades.

Others of our dragons are ongoing wars, like my health issues. I've been feeling the heat of one sneaky dragon that's not yet diagnosed, but I think I'm very close to finding the lair. I had an MRI last week that was clean, so between that and my symptoms we think we can rule out MS. So that's one cave that is empty.

The next cave to look in is Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. It's a genetic connective tissue disease—people who have it don't make enough collagen, so it can affect everything: skin, muscles, joints, and organs. It can range from mild to disabling, but doesn't normally affect the length of life, unless there is a rare complication. My family is pretty convinced we have it, and I see a geneticists on Monday, June 20th to check for it. It would explain so much—more than I even realized needed explaining!—my GI and eye problems since birth, and my current heart issues and joint and muscle pain and weakness (which seem more severe than Fibro alone would cause), etc. Getting this diagnoses would mean I'd go from having tons of random separate issues to just two diseases: EDS and Fibromyalgia. That makes much more sense. It would give me peace of mind of knowing exactly what dragon I'm fighting, and would give the doctors more wisdom to know how to go about keeping it at bay as much as possible.

Next week I'm also meeting with two lawyers to decide which to use to get some help fighting the dragon of the government disability aid labyrinth. The next step will be to go before a judge, though I guess that can take a year before it actually happens. If I get enough support from my doctors, which has been a challenge to even get good care much less anything else from them so far, there is a chance the lawyer could get a special review of my case that would expedite things and could get a ruling of disability without even going to the judge. I'm finally starting to find doctors that are willing to at least try to take care of me, so that's a good sign.

I'm so thankful I'm done with interpreting work at the college for the summer, so I can focus on all these other appointments for a few weeks. Then I'm determined to spend much of the summer doing writing projects. I have one short story that just needs a few more tweaks before I send it off to a magazine, and another in the works. My novel, Reaching Sky, isn't coming along as fast as I'd hoped, but I am half-way done with this revision, so am hoping to get it off to some beta readers for feedback before too long.

I'm so thankful for all my family and friends who stand by with prayer and encouragement to help fight my dragons, and for the ever-present strength and peace from the greatest warrior, God. One group I've found is http://www.healkick.com/, a recently-developed online community for young adults with neuro-immune diseases. If you or someone you know deals with that type of dragon, and is under 40, check out this great new website.

What are your dragons? How has God helped you fight them?

As always, check out my friends' A 2 Z 4 U & Me posts for "D" at Patty Wysong's blog.

A 2 Z: Cats and Cavaliers

My family has almost always had two cats (sometimes more). The first two I remember were presumbed siblings, Twinkle and Shasta. They were abandoned as kittens out in the middle of the country and followed my grandparents' cows back to their barn. The farm was full of wild barn cats, but at some weak moment we grandkids had eliceted a promise that if a tame cat ever showed up, we got to take it home.

I was about five at the time, and distinctly remember sitting on the farmhouse kitchen floor with my two sisters. Our legs were spread out in a three-pointed star to keep the two kittens within reach as we attmepted to make the impossible decision whether to take home the black female with a tiny white star under her chin, or the grey, brown, and black tabby male. (Unfortunately, at the moment I can't find most of our pictures of them.) Mom and Dad had pity on us and finally allowed us to bring both home.

Twinkle was a more typical feline, complete with moodiness and spite. She took pleasure in aiming for my face with her claws whenever my childishness went too far. However, she also liked to cuddle and was known to bow her head in respect during prayer times. Shasta was anything but normal. He would never dream of using his claws on one of his girls, and was even known to jump between us and a big dog or even a scary man.When my oldest sister was being courted, he insisted on chaperoning by sitting between them on the porch swing. He was so tender-hearted that if he came across a mouse nest while he was hunting, he would carefully pick up each baby mouse and carry it to us, alive. Sadly, our attempts at bottle-feeding the infants with cow's milk in an eye dropper usually were not effective for long.

Shasta was the only living thing in the house that Mom would permit to whine for any length of time. She was even know to croon a response to his wails, to the high amusement of us girls. He outlived his sister by many years and lived to the old age of about 18.

We got our only dog when I was about 12. Rebel was a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, the most gorgeous, brilliant, friendly dog in the whole world. A completely unbiased opinion, to be sure. He learned a lot of tricks, including speak, shout, whisper, and moan. He was almost as good a mouser as the cats and loved to play in our hay fields. He especially loved kids and kittens. Shasta and Twinkle only barely tolerated him, but the cats we got afterwards were best buddies. I remember opening the garage door to find him laying with a half a dozen kittens using him as a matress. He would jump to his feet, sending kittens flying every direction, and look up with manly innocence, "Me, cuddling with kittens? No way!"

Sultana was the first cat we got that was all mine. Tana was slightly unusual...she loved to "fly" by sitting in a box lid and having me zoom her through the air, and she even let me pull her around on a sled in the winter. She was feircly loving of me, and would yowl at the front door every morning until I came out. Then she'd leap into my arms, wrap her paws around my neck, and tuck her head under my chin. She also loved being a mother, and between her and I those were the cuddliest kittens around. Some of them particularly liked water, and one even had her own wading pool at her new home.

After Tana disapeared (much to my heartbreak), I got my current cat, a beautiful silver tabby. She was named Licorice when I got her, even though she doesn't have much black. Sometimes she's Lica (with a long I) but most often she gets called "Amy's cat" or "Baby," due to her tiny size.

Baby is so timid that my sister and I dubbed her Secret Agent Cat, since she was always alert and secretive, slipping from shadow to shadow. She adores feet and would rather be rubbed with a foot than a hand, best of all if she can play with your empty shoe while being stroked with a stocking-foot.

A few years ago a black cat began hanging around. Though actually fairly small in size, his lean, muscled body earned him the name Bagheera. At first he was scared to death of people, but finally overcame his fear enough to come to the front door and cry until we came to make friends. He's obviously been abused at some point, but now a couple of years later is mostly over his jumpiness. Unfortunately he's still not over his firm conviction that cats should most definitely be allowed inside, or that rain is to be despized. Given that Mom doesn't allow cats inside this house and we live in the rainforest of the Great Pacific NorthWet, he spends many misrable hours wailing in the garage. But overall, I still believe he's happier than he'd been at his former house. He's not fond of sitting in laps, but loves leaning against my back and drooling all over my arm.

Check out links to more "C" posts at http://www.pattywysong.com/

From A 2 Z: Be Still

Several years ago, Mt. St. Helens created quite a stir when she began releasing steam and ash. We were told there was no current danger of another eruption, in fact, the "burps" were the mountain's way of releasing pressure in a much less destructive way. This was exciting for me, who hadn't been quite born yet for the 1980 eruption, but now was able to see plums of steam and ash from my own bedroom window.

My family made the couple of hour drive up to the Johntson Observetory to see the mountian close up. I scurried around taking pictures. It wasn't until we were back in the car headed toward home that I realized... I'd been so busy capturing the moment forever that I'd forgotten to just be still and enjoy the display of God's mighty creation.

I have a distinct memory as a young child of coming accross my mom sitting on the couch with her eyes closed. Now, I understood that she was a busy lady, homeschooling three young girls, taking care of the house, and helping with the home business. She deserved a rest! I leaned against her knees and offered helpfully, "Would you like me to bring you a book?" She smiled. "No, thanks, I'm just resting."

This was where things got puzzling for me. How could she want to just sit there? Even now in my late 20s when I'm so sick and need lots of rest, I rarely do nothing. To me, resting is sleeping, reading, watching a movie, surfing FaceBook, or maybe quietly sitting outdoors to enjoy nature. Thankfully I can usually turn my busy brain off fairly easily when it's time to sleep, but even that is doing something—sleeping! Even my sleep is not calm. Because of my sleep disorder I rarely get the restorative deep sleep, but instead spend my time tossing and turning in light sleep or experiencing vivid dreams in REM sleep.

Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him; Ps. 37:7a

So it is that one of the negatives of my bubbly personality is that it's difficult for me to just be still before the Lord. This year I've been doing the "read the Bible in a year" program and for the first time in my adulthood I've been succcessful in reading everyday for several months straight. I've always had an easy time praying, singing praises, and chatting with God throughout the day. But just being, just listening and communing, that is more difficult for me.

So this week I'm challenging myself, and challenging you, to set aside some time to just be still with the Lord. Selah.

Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth! Ps. 48:10

Check out more B blogs on Patty's blog: http://www.pattywysong.com/

A 2 Z: Acknowledgement and Acceptance

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I don’t blog often. I’m not the only blogger with this problem, so recently my friend Patty issued a challenge to her blogging friends called “From A 2 Z for U & Me.” The goal is to write one post a week with a letter of the alphabet as a idea generator. Obviously this week is A. (check out other A posts from the Linky tool on Patty's blog)

My fiction mind immediately thought of a fantasy short story about a young pregnant lady who lives in a culture that expects all first-born children to be given a name starting with A to honor the god of fertility and prosperity, Aath. This woman is learning about another god, whom her friend claims is the only True God. She is torn. If she goes against tradition and turns to this God then she and her baby could be shunned and face starvation, but if she honors the god Aath that turns out to be false, could the consequences be even worse?

I have the first page written and fully intended to have the whole thing finished by now, but alas, my fatigue is flaring at the most inopportune time, as usual. Having a muddled brain that feels doped up on sleep meds (even though it’s been weeks since I’ve had any) is hardly fertile ground to grow fiction.

However, even if I did have the story finished, I wouldn’t post it here. I’ve been trying to get some of my short stories published in some of the more well-known and well-paying children’s magazines like Cobblestone, Cricket, and Highlights. I’ve gotten several hand-written letters back with my rejection notices, saying that they loved the story and to please send in more—unpublished ones. So I think I will stop posting most of my stories online here or on FaithWriters before sending them in, and see if that helps my stories actually get accepted for publication. Sorry. ;-)

So that leaves me to think of another A theme for this week. Two words that keep coming to mind are acceptance and acknowledgement. I long ago accepted the fact that I’ll have serious health issues the rest of my life. But I’ve had this nagging feeling that something more is wrong than “just” the diagnoses I currently have. I’ve seen several specialists recently and they all agree that I have particularly severe symptoms, but none have any idea why. Maybe it’s just that my body is sensitive, but maybe it is something mysterious hiding in the background.

I’ve been analyzing (another a word!) why it’s important to me to keep digging. Of course there is the obvious reason that if the doctors know exactly what is going on, then they are that much better equipped to help me. But when it comes down to it, most of the things I’m wondering about are not much more easily treated than what I have already.

I’ve been wondering how much my desire for other people’s acknowledgement and acceptance of my limitations plays into this. If I have a disease name that the general public knows is very disabling, then when I say what I have then there is easy acceptance and understanding of my limitations. As it is, my main disease of Fibromyalgia affects everyone so differently that those who have heard of it may have a completely different idea of what it means than how it actually affects my body, and the other people haven’t ever heard of it anyway.

I do think that is only a small part of my desire to keep investigating my body’s dysfunctions, and the most important reason is to be accurately treating what I really have, but it has made me think. How often do we humans look for acknowledgement or acceptance in odd places? The name given my disease and the response that triggers from others does not change what my body is experiencing. The fact that someone else looks at me and sees a normal-looking lady and perhaps sees me do an activity in which I seem to function fine does not mean that I’m not experiencing pain or fatigue, or that even if I function fine then, that I won’t crash for three days after the event.

In the same way, if someone looks at us and thinks we aren’t good enough, or aren’t pretty enough, or aren’t ______ (fill in the blank with whatever inadequacy you struggle with), does it change anything? Our feelings, if we let it, but it does not change who we are inside. That brings two important truths.

The first is that the only acknowledgement and acceptance that really matters is what we get from God. He created us. He knows every weakness, every limitation, every strength, and every skill better than we know it ourselves. And even with that knowledge, He accepts us. He loves and cares about each detail of our lives, about each up and down, each frustration and thrill no matter how minor or major. That is the truth we hang onto, no matter how any misunderstanding person treats us in this world.

The second important thing is that we as Christians should give that acceptance and care to each other. Yes, be brave enough to gently point out sins, but care enough to really know and support each other. Care enough to love no matter what flawed package the other comes wrapped in. Take the time to listen and try to understand what day to day life is like for our brothers and sisters, so that we can support, pray for, and encourage them that much more effectively.

I’m so very grateful to be surrounded by so many people who do put this into practice. As I mentioned in my last post, the church I’ve been at for the last year is amazing, and so often everyone seems to know just what to say and just how to pray for me. That’s because they’ve cared enough to get to know me, and I’ve opened up to let them, and to give support in return. My family and friends are also very supportive.

I will continue to look for answers to my health, because right now I feel that’s being a good steward of my body. On June 9th I have an MRI to help rule out MS. I finally have a primary care doctor, neurologist, and cardiologist who do care and are trying, even if they don’t have all the answers. But I will not look to diagnoses labels for a path to acceptance and understanding from those around me. I don’t need it for that. I already have that in perfect form from my Heavenly Father, and in imperfect but still good form from my family and friends.

And that’s plenty enough.

Talents for the Lord

A few days ago I was chatting with my nieces and mentioned that I'd written a rough draft of a novel, and was working on editing and rewriting the next draft.

Niece 1: You're allowed to do that?
Me: Yes, all books that have ever been published have been re-written by the author many, many times. I'll bet a lot of books have been rewritten ten times!
Niece 2: Wow, I don't think I'd ever want to be a writer, then.

Her sentiments echoed what I've been thinking for several weeks. Life would be much easier if I wasn't a writer. I could go to work, interpreting a few hours a week, drag myself home, and just be able to rest. No concerns about having enough energy to think of a clever string of words, finding enough brain power to figure out how good or bad an older set of words were....

Yet, I can't stop writing. For short times when I'm especially sick or busy, yes, but the fact remains that God made me a writer. That's part of who I am, deep inside my soul. And a certain energy and satisfaction beyond anything else is created when I do what God has called me and given me the talent to do.

My interpreting work schedule this term has me in more pain than usual, but I've still managed to get a bit done on my writing projects. I tried Script Frenzy this month—trying to write 100 pages of a script in April. I didn't make the goal, only got 49 pages written, but now have a half a screenplay done. Sign Your Love is about a college girl who suddenly finds out she is the only living relative of a half sister she didn't know existed. She must decide whether to take custody of a child who is only six years old—and deaf.

We've also started the writing process on the next Peculiar People book, the orphan plane project. The story is a twist on the real-life orphan trains in the 1800s who sent children from the inner-cities out west, in hopes they'd find a better chance at life. Our book is set in the future and the children are being sent to live on a space station. We have fifteen contributing authors from four different countries. I'm excited to add an additional feature to this book—illustrations! I have about seven artists who will be doing a black and white drawing for each story.

As far as non-writing news goes, last week my church had a women's event with a "Bride of Christ" theme. One of the activities was having a bunch of the young ladies model the older women's wedding dresses. A few months ago one of my grandma's friends called to ask me to model her vintage dress. At her wedding, she wore my Grandma Wiley's veil and my great-aunt was one of the bridesmaids. It was special to be a part of that bit of history. The dress is about sixty-five-years old and was originally a pure white. Though it's hard to tell in this picture, it's now aged to a lovely deep champagne color.

I began attending this church, Evergreen Bible Church, almost a year ago now. At first I was only there temporarily, to fill in for an interpreter who was in the hospital. But I'd been between ministries at my former church and fell in love with this church, so felt the Lord encouraging me to stay. The people are very supportive—not just "Sunday friends" but people who care all during the week. Pastor Toby always takes time to see how I'm doing and feels like "my pastor." It's also a blessing to be able to use my skills in the church's Deaf Ministry. We have a few Deaf people attending, and hope the Lord will grow it more. One thing I especially love is that this isn't a ministry the church decided to start one day, but is something the Lord very clearly started, when a Deaf woman began attending the church before an interpreted service had even been set up.

A couple months ago I had the honor of sharing my testimony with the church about God getting me through the interpreting program despite all my physical limitations making it humanly impossible. Normally I feel comfortable on the stage speaking, but for some reason I was particularly nervous. Perhaps because it was such a personal topic. You can watch my testimony on this YouTube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ldVYYaBIau0

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Welcome to Amy's 2011

I'm still here! I planned to write a post welcoming in the new year, but wanted to see if I got the job I applied for so I could post about that, but then I got the job and was busy, so never got this written. I'm working a few hours a week interpreting at a community college and loving it. It's the best of the education world: I don't have to prepare lectures and grade papers like the teachers, or do homework and take tests like the students, but I still get to hear the lectures and such. The college setting is perfect for me because I can just work one or two classes a day, with a few days off.

As much as I would have liked to start earning a little money right out of school, I'm kinda glad I ended up just interpreting at church and low key places like that for a while. I'm so much more confident in my skills now than I was even in internship last year. I've been blessed with great classes and clients and wonderful interpreter teammates who support me and do what they can to try to help make sure I'm not overdoing it physically. It's hard with my health issues, and I've had some bad days, but I'm enjoying being able to do a little work. Plus, I get paid days off if my clients play hooky, haha.

I also volunteer interpret at my church, Evergreen Bible Church, and work a few times a month at another church. I especially love interpreting the worship music. Signing the songs is like worshiping with my whole body, and many of the congregation (even those who can hear) have taken the time to let me know that I've been a blessing to them.

I haven't kept writing everyday like I'd planned, since the few hours of work take up most of my energy, but I have been able to do a little here and there. I brought the opening chapter of my NaNo novel, Reaching Sky, to the critique group in my area that Randy Ingermanson leads and the group was very pleased with it. Yay! The main problem is that the character voice sounds too feminine, so I'll need to work on that throughout the book.

A few weeks ago I started having worse spells of feeling dizzy, weak, and lightheaded. My doctor didn't have an opening at a time I was available, so they sent me to someone else. That turned out to be planned by God. The doctor listened to my symptoms and looked at my chart and said, "Wow, you have a fascinating array of issues. Who is taking care of you?" I'm like, "Well, not really anyone." He says, "You need to be seeing specialists, and ones who are not just going to check you for one thing and then say you're fine, but ones who like unusual cases and will actually figure out the problem." By now I'm about crying because doctors have been ignoring me for years and this one finally cares. He's retiring soon but is making sure others will be taking care of me.

Two years ago when I first started having tachycardia (abnormally fast heartbeat) the cardiologist I saw was extremely rude and condescending and basically told me I was too young to have any health problems so exercise more and get over it.

This new cardiologist I saw last week was great. He said if my heart keeps going this fast then eventually it'll wear out, so it's important to figure out what's wrong. He wants someone to do more thyroid checks on me but for now started me on a beta blocker and I'm suppose to eat tons of salt and drink water. If he can't find anything to keep my pulse lower and my blood pressure higher, then he'll refer me to an electrophysiologist to look into my heart rhythm and see whether I'll need surgery or not (I'm hoping for a not).

This week I see a rheumatologist. I'm so thankful to finally have competent doctors trying to take care of me, and I pray they'll be able to figure out what my body is doing this time, lol. Then next week I have two appointments to help determine if I'm disabled, so I'm nervous about those, especially since my health is directly affected by my level of activity. I'm not as sick right now because I'm resting a lot and only working a very few hours, so they won't be able to see how bad I get when I'm attempting to work or go to school full-time or even half-time.

So, that's what 2001 is shaping up to look like. Things are never boring around here, that's for sure.
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Chapter Closed

A chapter of my life has ended, and a new chapter is beginning. This week I took the final for my math class (and did well on it) and now am officially completely done with my degree!

I’ve been doing some regular volunteer interpreting work since I finished the interpreting program, but next month I’ll finally be getting some paid work. I have a freelance job that will give me a few hours a month, and on Wednesday this week I’m going in for a skills assessment at another place to see about getting several hours a week of work. I’m a little nervous about the assessment, of course, but I’m confident I’m a good interpreter, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I would love prayer that it goes well.

Last week I got to assist the interpreter at 1945 Christmas from Home, a live radio drama (like readers theater), so that was a ton of fun. The people at Tapestry Theatre are kind and welcoming and very skilled actors. Maybe someday I’ll get to be a voice actor in one of their shows.

I did get to do some singing with my voice this month, though. I miss being on the worship team at church or in a choir, but have been unsure my body has the stamina to do either thing right now. But recently my church lost all the singers for their Women’s Christmas Party and I got to be one of the fill-ins. It was perfect since it was just one evening with a few songs at the beginning and end of the event. It felt weird to be on the stage using my voice instead of my hands, but was a lot of fun.

Introducing the Novelist, Amy Michelle Wiley

I have approximately six abandoned novel files in my laptop right now—that’s just from the last five years. None of them go past three or four chapters, and few were abandoned after a mere page and a half. During my childhood I'd started another three or four books, never to complete them, and the number of storylines rattling around in my head is closer to a whopping fifteen.
All my life I've been a writer and aspired to be a novelist. I've started a novel with grand hopes, only to let them fizzle and die as I left it in the dust to pursue yet another novel. So never has that goal been attained.

Until now.

NaNoWriMo, and its support group hundreds of thousands of people strong (plus my own smaller wonderful support group of family and friends), was the kick I needed to get a novel out. I passed the NaNo goal of 50,000 in thirty days on Saturday, four days early, and today on the thirtieth I finished the epilogue and now have a completed rough draft of Reaching Sky. It's a fairly short book at a current 55,783 words, but it is WRITTEN!

I think NaNo worked well for me, despite the rushed time limit and the "no major editing" rule. The story is rough with a lot of holes (like the cat I introduced in one scene, never to mention again... and the fact that I don't mention the main character's name, the weather, or the location in the whole first whole section... etc.) but it's definitely a very viable draft that has some strong parts.

You can read a short story based on the characters here, Eureka in Yreka, to get an idea of the book. My aim is to get this one published through a traditional publisher, so here are my goals for the next year:

1. Go over the book again right now to add in all the scenes and details I remembered later but didn't have time to go back and put in during the competition.
2. Let it sit at least a month without so much as a glance or a thought.
3. Edit it with hopefully somewhat fresh eyes.
4. Give it to two trusted writer friends to give me lots of constructive feedback.
5. Write another draft based on that feedback.
6. Give the new draft to another three or four people—a mix of writers and just readers.
7. Rewrite it again.
8. Send it to a professional editor for a polish.
9. Send it to an agent!
10. Probably more rewrites for agents and publishers.
11. Have a publisher accept it! Woo!

Thank you all for your support and encouragement and for believing in me! Keep 'em coming! I can't wait to see what God does this this book, now that He finally got me to actually write it. ;-)
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Cracking the Whip at the Limping Noodle

When I first joined NaNoWriMo and began planning to write a novel in a month, I started hearing about Week Two. Yes, all in caps like that. It’s An Event. But the thing is, this is one event that didn’t have such a good rap. Week Two is terrible. Week Two is tough. Writers quit during Week Two *cue dramatic music* never to return to their story again.

At the end of week one I was barreling through my story at top speed. Mighty Writer Amy wasn’t going to be daunted by week two, oh no. (Did you note how I trivialized the threat merely by not capitalizing it?) Reaching Sky is a winning novel! Bethany House is going to publish it, and not only that, they are going to offer me a two-book contract for it and the companion novel, M&Ms and Apple Cores. Get ready, week two, here I come!

And then Week Two hit. There were three things I underestimated about Week Two.

1) The middle of a book is hard to write. I know this because I researched it (read, misery loves company). Even best-selling authors feel like giving up during the middle of the book.

2) My handy-dandy outline said “Day five: LA to Yreka, Drive and Talk. Day Six: Arrive in Newport, OR.” Now, maybe you haven’t looked at a map lately, but LA and Newport are almost a whole state apart. And California and Oregon are big states. On top of that, “drive and talk” isn’t exactly a detailed blueprint.

So now I’m stuck in a notoriously Hard to Write Middle, with a very Vague and Fuzzy Outline, right in the midst of Week Two.

3) Added to that is that I’m tired. Not tired of writing, just tired. As in a bit of a Fibromyalgia Fatigue Flare.


So what do I do? I keep writing, of course! I am Mighty Writer Amy, remember? I may now be convinced my novel is as exciting as a limping noodle (no, I don’t mean “limp noodle” or a “wet noodle.” I’m not quite that depressed. A limping noodle is a tiny bit interesting, right?) but I am determined that not even the Three Plagues of Week Two can stop me.

So. It doesn’t.

And just as a treat, here is a teaser from this week’s writing. It comes from near the beginning of the week, back when things were still moving pretty good and not yet limping.

I went back to scanning the cars behind me for that dark blue sedan. It was amazing how many blue cars were out there. I freaked myself out several times, but they always eventually took an exit or pulled ahead or fell behind. I was zoning out when something made me glance beside us.

The squinty-eye man was not behind me. He was beside me. On the other side of my window. Staring right at me.

I yelled. His car kept pace with me and for a second we locked eyes. His were dark and piercing, even with the drooping lid. Sky took a gasping breath.

Gripping the wheel, I fought the impulse to stomp the break or gun the gas. There was a car right on my tail. Getting rear ended would just make us more vulnerable. What if the car behind us was part of it, too?

My heart was going so fast I expected it to give up any second. I’d just die right there, holding the wheel of my truck.

“Sage, do something.” Sky cowered down, but popped up for a little peek.

“Should I take the exit?” There was one only a quarter of a mile up. Would that be safer or scarier? “I don’t know what to do.” I didn’t have much luck keeping the panic out of my voice. Dealing with psychos chasing me was not something I had experience with.

The squinty-eye man made the decision for me. He pulled a half a car length ahead. Then he yanked the wheel. Toward us.

Sky screamed.

I reacted instinctively, jerking the truck away. Then I saw the concrete rail. We were going to die.

Somehow I kept control, slamming on the breaks and straightening out so we were driving down the shoulder. From the corner of my eye I saw the man roll down the car window and reach out a hand that held something black. The bang echoed in my ears. Filling my brain. Overpowering my thoughts.

When I came out of my shock the truck was stopped on the shoulder, only a few feet away from the freeway exit. Someone honked.

Sky. Had he shot Sky?

I turned my head slowly. She was laying flopped over her seatbelt with her head almost on the floor. She didn’t move.


Yes, I'm going to be mean and leave you with a cliff hanger. No, I'm not going to tell you if Sky is dead or alive or injured. If you'll excuse me now, I have a limping noodle I need to get back to.
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Dance in Peace

During my entire childhood, the families of the Wileys, the Zollers, and the Rauches were almost just extensions of one family. We could all be found gathered at one house or another several times a week, and us kids grew up as close friends. Now that we’re all grown, we don’t see each other as often, but they are still there on my heart, right near the top of my close friends’ list.

The father of the Rauch family, Bill, just passed away a few days ago. He'd successfully battled cancer several times but he was hit with a new one and this time he was gone within six weeks. The memorial service yesterday was a beautiful remembrance of his life. People always say nice things at funerals, but with Bill you knew every word was truth, because he was a rock-solid man, with a life built on The Rock. We'll miss his ready hugs, gentle humor, and quiet wisdom.

One person related that a few days before the end, they went to visit him and he said, "How can I complain about this, when God has given me so many things and such a wonderful life?"

That's a beautiful perspective and one we might all aspire to have when trials come along, whether they be short ones or terminal ones. I may have a chronic illness that requires an awful lot of rest, but during the few hours I can be active I get to be doing my dreams—the dreams God gave me and has fulfilled in me: writing, interpreting, spending time with my family and friends.... I'm thankful for those times and it's important for all of us to remember to cherish those times while we have them.

Speaking of writing dreams, my novel Reaching Sky is coming along nicely. As expected, I've had a couple of days my body didn't allow me to write, but I've been able to make up for it on other days. By the end of the day I'll be a tad beyond today's goal at close to 12,000 words. I've gotten further than on any of my other novel attempts and in a couple of days I will have passed my record for my longest solo writing project.

Here's a short excerpt from the story:

“Hey,” I leaned over to bat playfully at Sky’s arm.

She yelled and cowered, her arm flying up protectively.

We stared at each other for a split second, my mouth gaped, until she shrieked again and pointed to the road. I jerked back into my lane.

She’s scared of me. My own little sister thinks I’m gonna hit her. I waited until my breathing had slowed down before I spoke. “Sky, I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hit you.”

She looked out the window, her fingers clenching a handful of her skirt.

Turning on my blinker, I pulled onto an off ramp and then into the first parking lot I reached. Sky shot glances at me, her eyes red-rimmed.

I put the truck in park and turned so I could face her directly. “No one should ever have hit you.”

She looked down. “Sometimes I talk back.” Her voice dropped. “I don’t always do what he tells me to do.”

I fought the anger. “Sky, look at me.”

It took a minute, but finally she turned. She didn’t quite look me in the eye, but at least in my general direction.

“No one ever has the right to hit you. Ever. No matter what you do, no matter how bad you are, the appropriate punishment should never leave a mark. Never. It wasn’t your fault, Sky.”

She was crying for real now. I hoped they were healing tears. Tears that let go of the guilt for something no child should ever feel guilty about.

I reached out, gently, and took her hand. “I want to promise you something, Sis.”

She glanced at me, didn’t pull her hand away.

“I promise I will never hit you. I will never hurt you.” I said the words slowly. They filled up the car.

Sky nodded. Ever so slightly, she nodded.

I hoped, oh, how I hoped I could be as sure of not hurting her emotionally as I was of not hurting her physically. I knew taking her from that house had been the right thing, but had taking her away? Should I have brought her straight to the social worker and let her investigate?

I looked at her vulnerable face, tears streaking through last night’s makeup. No. I’d done the right thing. And anyway, I’d made a decision and would have to follow through with it. I was her protector now.


Now I think I'll go take a nap. Oh, speaking of that, when it comes time for me to die (which hopefully won't happen for a long time), I hope people don't say, "rest in peace." I've done a whole lot o' resting here on earth! When I get to heaven I'm going to be healthy and full of energy. I hope people say something more like, "Dance in peace, Amy, dance in peace." 

Connecting Me

I often get told how funny I am. Now mind you, if I try to be funny then I only get blank stares or, if it's a text medium like FaceBook, I might get an "Oh, that's too bad. I'll pray for you." But throughout my everyday conversations, periodically someone will burst out laughing and declare how funny I am, leaving me at a complete loss as to why exactly that comment was funny. But no worries, because I like being funny. Certainly I haven't much talent at writing humor, so I'll take all the chuckles I can get from my everyday actions.

A few weeks ago my humor made national headlines. No, not in a newspaper, on a friend's advice blog. In fact, Connecting Now hosted what turned into a rather huge competition between my humor and another lady's comments. Check it out here: Duking it Out Connection Style: LaBuff vs. Wiley. Subsequent posts can be found there as well, with Hold the Phones and Extra! Extra! Read All About It!  following the polls and then the final and triumphant win of--well, you'll have to go read it--in The Results Show.

My fame even spread to Canadian comedian Timmy Boyle's blog, Inside Timmy's Mind, with his post The Great Debate.

Today I am once again showing up in the bloggesphere, though this time because of my creativity rather than my humor. My dear friend Joanne Sher just interviewed me about my collaborative fiction group Peculiar People over on her blog, An Open Book. I think I forgot to mention here on my blog that I've just opened up for submissions to the next group book, the orphan plane project, so be sure to check out the details on her blog and on the PeP website. It's going to be a really fun project!

But don't worry, I'm not letting all the fame go to my head. Well, not much anyway. ;-)
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Inaugural NaNo Lessons

After all the hype and excitement to get going, when it actually hit midnight and I was legally able to start writing Reaching Sky, I felt surprisingly at a loss for a moment. But only a moment, and then I was typing away. I’d decided on this special occasion of my very first NaNoWriMo, I would stay up and get the prologue and first chapter done before going to bed.

It only took me an hour and a half and when I was done I’d already hit my word count goal for the day. In order to win the competition, I have to write about 1,667 words a day, and I’ve already written 1,772 and most of the day is still left! As nervous as I was about being able to write the 50k in a month, I’m secretly harboring a hope that I can complete the whole book in a month, which will hopefully be closer to normal novel length of at least 70k. Of course, now it’s no longer a secret, but you know what? I think I might be able to do it!

Some things I learned on this inaugural experience of mine:

• I forgot to name the bad guys
• It’s harder to turn off the internal editor than I thought
• If my character gets beat up in the first chapter and the book spans only a week, she’s going to have a black eye through the whole book
• As I got into bed feeling satisfied, I realized I’d forgotten to write the one-sentence event—the one the whole book pivots on—into the first chapter
• It only took me an hour and a half to meet the day’s word goal
• Why didn’t I write a book a long time ago??

And now, for a special treat just for you, I will share my opening paragraphs. Keep in mind it’s a hurried rough draft and not yet a polished work.

Prologue:

She chose red. Sky gripped the pencil with white knuckles and drew a sharp line of lightning through the black clouds. She was huddled against the side of the house—the side with no windows—and pushed the pencil so hard the paper almost ripped. The house in her drawing was just a square, much like the plain box-house she leaned against. The real house didn’t have dark clouds hovering over it, not so as a passerby would notice, anyway, but Sky knew they were there, just as sure as they were on her paper.

First Chapter:

I am invisible. I learned that art many years ago, blending with the background to avoid flying fists and boiling words. Now I have used it for a different purpose. I watched, only a week ago, as Mr. Scrivener punched in the password to his safe. He’d thought himself alone in the house, so hadn’t been suspicious or attentive.

That’s the trick, I’ve learned. Always be suspicious and always know what’s around you. But Mr. Scrivener, in all his conniving business schemes, somehow hasn’t learned that well enough.

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Waiting for NaNo

Just one day until NaNoWriMo starts on November 1st! I’ve been working hard on getting everything ready to start my novel. This will be my first try doing the NaNo competition and, assuming I stick to the end (which I intend to do!) my first completed solo novel.

I made a simple outline—hopefully will help me keep from getting stuck but will let me have freedom to let my characters lead. Since my story is about two runaway foster kids, I have their road trip planned with maps printed out for their path from southern California to southwest Washington.

The manager of Washington’s Children’s Administration (foster care system) even took a while to talk to me on the phone for a while, answering my research questions for the book. She was very helpful.

I’ll be posting small excerpts of the book throughout the month, so you all can follow along with my progress, if you like. Here’s my synopsis and a banner I made for fun for the story.

Sage is independent and determined to prove it. After his parents died five years ago, he’s been bounced from one foster home to another, and now at seventeen he is sick of it and ready to be his own master. As he skips town, he stops to say goodbye to his little sister, Sky. But when he sees her bruised and tear-streaked face, he knows he can’t leave her with an abusive foster family and impulsively takes her with him.

Sky is young and scared. Sage isn’t sure if she even remembers what it’s like to have a real family and she definitely doesn’t trust him. She seems to be pulling further and further away. Can he reconnect with her before it’s too late?

As the two escape across the U.S. they begin to realize that it’s not just social services after them, but someone scarier…and deadlier. Will they be able to leave the past behind and find a future together?

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God of the Silly and Impossible

I just finished the rough draft of I Will Dance, a historical fiction novella for Peculiar People’s Heirloom Chronicles book, I Will be Found. This is story I’ve had in my head since I was a teenager, and we’ve been theoretically working on this book for several years, but somehow I’d never been able to get it out on paper. I finally did it!


Not only did I finish that long-awaited project, but this is the longest solo writing project I’ve actually finished. I’ve always been a little ADD with my writing, and never managed to get much done on a novel before loosing interest and moving on to something else. Each new story idea that pops into my head is "shinier" and more exciting than whatever I'm working on at the moment. I’ve also pretty much only done creative writing when I felt like it. When I was in the creative mood.

This month I made myself write almost every day even if I didn’t feel like it (unless I was really sick—which is fairly often). Some days it was only a couple of paragraphs, and other days it was several pages. And I found that when it’s not flowing all easy and pretty, then writing can actually be work. But sometimes making myself do it will cause the creative flow to come back again.

I know the rough draft will need a lot of work to smooth it out, but I praise God that I finally finished! Do a happy dance with me!

This novella was 13,000 words. In November I’m going to do NaNoWriMo and try to write 50,000 words in thirty days. When I struggled this much to get 13k done, why do I think I can get 50k done? Especially when added to my normal writer struggles with writing block or the “blahs” is a fight with a chronic illness that can leave me nearly non-functional some days. Seems rather silly and impossible, doesn’t it? Well, for one thing, it’s okay if I don’t get the full amount done. It’ll still be more than I would have written otherwise. And for another thing, I happen to have a God who loves silly and impossible conundrums.

It’s true. Look at history. Think of the fortressed city of Jericho that had a huge impassible rock wall around it. What did God ask His people to do? March around it fourteen times. Silly actions to attempt the impossible. But that wall fell down.

Think of a young man with only a sling shot and three stones going against a huge giant in full body armor. Silly and impossible. But Goliath died.

My own life is full of these stories, as well. Think of a young lady with vision-brain connection problems that mean she can’t remember what she’s seen or tell apart things that look similar. God asks her to become fluent in a visual signed language. Silly and impossible? But I am fluent.

Think of a lady entering a interpreting training program that is so difficult and intense that there is about a 20% graduation rate. That lady develops a debilitating chronic illness in the middle of the program. Her even thinking of continuing seems silly and impossible, doesn’t it? And yet, here I am, graduated.

Yes, my God is a God of the silly and impossible. He often requires very hard work and determination on our part, but then He steps in and does a miracle. I believe He gave me the talent and desire to write. Part of my being a good steward of those gifts is for me to…well, to write!

So here I am, once again feeling God pressing me toward the silly, impossible task of writing 50,000 words in the month of November. And I can’t wait. I can’t wait to see how He does it.

The best part about these silly, impossible tasks is that when the silly becomes amazing and the impossible becomes accomplished there is no doubt about Who did it. God gets all the glory.

Lessons from a Beetle

Today I was in our tiny guest bathroom when a rustling noise and bit of movement startled me. I was relieved to see it was only a little black beetle, minding his own business as he rushed along the floor, blindly hugging the baseboard to ensure he didn’t loose his way. He wasn’t daunted by any debris he passed, clambering quickly over it and continuing on his way.

But then he reached the corner. Hesitation was evident in every bit of his bony little body as he looked this way and that, trying to figure out what he was suppose to do now that his straight way had turned so sharply. Finally he took the plunge and turned the corner, continuing his mad dash along the front wall. But when he reached the second turn, he stopped short. Desperately he searched around, even trying to squeeze under the baseboard in an attempt to get around this block. Eventually he gave up and went back the way he’d come, sure he’d missed a door or passage somewhere along the way.

All he found was the old corner, the twist he’d already overcome. Nothing was left to do but once again backtrack. Again he reached the second corner and searched for a way around it, not knowing that only a few steps beyond it was the doorframe, where he could easily pass under the door to freedom.

Finally he made the choice, and turned the corner into the unknown. Within seconds he’d found the door and, with only a slight hesitation, ran out to the open world.

I had to wonder as I watched this beetle’s journey, how often we look like that to God. He sets us on a path, and as long as things go pretty much straight and as we expect, then we can take the little obstacles that come along. But as soon as the road twists, then we become unsure, wondering if we’ve lost our way or are being led astray. We look for easier ways, and sometimes we even turn around, and backtrack along the lessons He’s already taught us, falling back into the same habits we’ve overcome.

Can we trust that around that next corner, or maybe the one after that, He has a whole world of opportunities just waiting for us?


*beetle picture by Derrick Ditchburn

A Writing Meme

OK…here’s how this works.


1. Copy and paste the following to the comments and replace my answers with your own.

2. If you have a blog, copy and paste these questions and your answers to your blog.

Here are your questions (and my answers)

What’s your favorite genre of writing? Fiction, especially that which is based on true stories, like Biblical fiction or “ripped from the headlines” fiction.
How often do you get writer’s block? I have an illness that causes a lot of brain fog and fatigue, so I often struggle to write because of that. I never lack for story ideas, though.



How do you fix it? Well, since most of my issues aren’t from regular “writer’s block,” it’s not so easy to fix. Keeping my schedule not too hectic helps. As for traditional writer’s block, I find entering the FaithWriters’ challenge helps get my creative juices flowing so I can work on some of my other projects.

Do you type or write by hand? Type! I only hand write short notes to myself when I’m not at the computer or am doing research.

Do you save everything you write? Yup. I sometimes save some of the various versions of stuff as I’m in the process of shortening or lengthening or revising it, too.

Do you ever go back to an old idea long after you abandoned it? Yes, often. I fact, in November I’ll be doing NaNoWriMo with a storyline a friend and I thought up about four years ago and then never did anything with.

Do you have a constructive critic? Yes, several of them. Joanne Sher, Hanne Moon, and Laury Hubrich are some of them. When I can, I also attend a local critique group led by Randy Ingermanson.

Did you ever write a novel? I have about fifteen novel ideas in my head, but haven’t managed to stick to any of them long enough to finish. When I was a young teen I wrote about a third of a historical fiction book. I’m going to try NaNoWriMo this year and try to actually finish one of these novels. Hold me to it!

What genre would you love to write but haven’t? I’d like to try a true mystery sometime. I actually got first place in the “mystery genre” week of the FW challenge, but it wasn’t a traditional story with a mystery to solve.

What’s one genre you have never written, and probably never will? A mushy romance novel. I do include a little romance in some of my stories, but never mushy and I can’t picture myself doing a book that was solely a romance.

How many writing projects are you working on right now? Actively only working on one—a historical fiction novella for the Heirloom Chronicles project. But mentally I’m working on three others, as well: the next group Peculiar People project, my NaNoWriMo novel, and an anthology of my historical fiction short stories. Of course, I throw in a random blog post or challenge story occasionally, too.

Do you write for a living? Do you want to? I do make a little money sometimes on my writing and especially freelance editing. Eventually I’d like all the income I earn to come from writing and interpreting.

Have you ever written something for a magazine or newspaper? Yes, I’ve been published in a number of magazines, including HopeKeepers magazine for Christians with chronic illnesses and At the Center, a magazine for crisis pregnancy center workers.

Have you ever won an award for your writing? I’ve gotten the Editor’s Choice award in the FaithWriters’ challenge many times, and an anthology I have three stories in won an award from the Military Writers Society of America.

Do you ever write based on your dreams? As in the dreams I have while I’m sleeping? I know I’ve filed away story ideas from at least one dream. I can’t recall any stories I’ve written so far that were directly from a dream. I have weird dreams!

Do you favor happy endings, sad endings, or cliff-hangers? I favor realistic endings. That means they are sometimes sad, but I always include some hope in my endings.


And now it's YOUR turn! Respond below, put your answers on your blog, or both. Enjoy.

Behind the Name: Sparrow

My friend Mari redesigned my blog for me. Isn’t it lovely?! I thought I’d take the opportunity to explain the meaning behind my nickname Sparrow. There are several Biblical passages that explain that God notices even things like a sparrow, and if He cares about a bird, so much more does He notice and care about the lives of His own children who were created in His image.

So the name Sparrow signifies to me the special love and care God has for every detail of my life. This is comforting, because I know that if something matters to me, even just for a second, then it matters to God. He understands and cares about each minute of my life. That knowledge is also a responsibility, because it means God doesn’t just care about the big picture of my life, but that it’s important that each action, each word, and each thought I have is one that glorifies Him. Of course, I fall short in that goal, but there again is the comfort of knowing that I am holy in God’s eyes because He sees me through the lens of Jesus’ cleansing blood.

Because of that assurance I have in God, I know He will give me the strength to not only go on each day, but to soar. I may have pain, I may have fatigue and frustrations, but ultimately I know that this world is temporary and while I’m here God will use my life for His glory. Sometimes He even shows me glimpses of how He’s doing that, such as when I’m able to encourage someone else with their illness, or when one of my stories touches someone’s life.

Speaking of stories, it looks like the interpreting field is going to be quiet this term (sadly…and that’s a bit of a prayer need, too), so I’m hoping to be able to do a lot of writing. I’m working with a small team of writers on a historical fiction book, Peculiar People’s Heirloom Chronicles project. We’re hoping to get the rough draft done by the end of September. I’m really excited to see what God does with that book. My section is about a young girl in a German concentration camp during WWII. It’s a tough story to write, but one that I think many will be able to identify with. Though we don’t have the same level of torture and depravation as my character, most of us experience times (or lifetimes) of physical or emotional pain and have to grapple with the “why”s.

Then I’m hoping to try NaNoWriMo for the first time. For those who aren’t familiar with it, National Novel Writing Month is a sort of online support group pushing authors to just let go and be creative as they attempt to write a rough draft of a novel in the month of November—that’s right, a novel in one month! I’m not sure if I can write that way, especially with my physical limitations, but I want to at least try. I haven’t managed to stick with a novel long enough to finish it so far, so maybe this will be what I need.

I’ll keep you posted on my progress with both books. I’m planning to actually post on my blog a little more often now that I’m pretty much done with school. So, see you around!

Moving Mountains

Wow, I didn’t realize it had been quite this long since I’ve written a post. Hope I still have some readers out there! Life is amazing. I graduated from the interpreting program this June, against all odds (only about 15% of students graduate). My friend in the picture, Holly, is one of my Christian classmates and dear friends who has been so supportive. The internship our last term was a great experience and I was blessed with good mentors. I did have some struggles because I ended up with a bit too busy of a schedule (seems pretty much everything is too much for my poor body) but stretched one term of internship hours over two terms and made it through most days. Now I am finishing up a few general education classes for my AAS degree.

Over the summer there isn’t much paid work available, but I’ve been volunteer interpreting regularly at a church. That’s been a blessing for me to be able to minister in that way and to keep getting interpreting practice and experience over the summer. I’m hoping to begin paid interpreting at a community college in a couple of weeks. I really like the supportive atmosphere at that college and I’ll be able to do just a few regular hours of work a week. I’ve also been accepted at a freelance agency and will be able to accept additional work through them during the times I’m feeling better.

My writing career is taking off as well. It can be challenging sometimes because writing takes so much mental creativity and the Fibromyalgia zaps so much of my energy, but as my school schedule is getting quieter I’m able to do a little more writing. My international collaborative fiction group published Delivered the beginning of this year. It’s a beautiful book and well worth getting, if I do say so myself. ;-) It’s available as a paperback or as an eBook on the Peculiar People website, or if you live in my area ask me to buy an autographed copy. PeP is hard at work on the next collaborative book, the Heirloom Chronicles project, and even have an agent who may be interested in seeing the finished manuscript.

I also had the privilege of being asked to speak at the international FaithWriters’ writing conference in Michigan last month. I taught a workshop on self publishing and it was a lot of fun. Despite my fatigue, I was able to speak clearly, and the whole conference had a lot of great info and even better, a lot of wonderful Christian fellowship and support.

My health issues continue to make life a challenge, but God continues to give me the strength to succeed in ways that sometimes seem impossible. One of my friends was just telling me how exciting all the things I’ve accomplished are, and even more exciting because it’s so blatantly clear that it’s not ME who is accomplishing them, but God through me, because there’s no way I could do any of it myself.

Thanks for all the encouragement and support you, my friends and family, have given me. I will do my best to actually keep this blog updated now that I’ve dusted it off again.


Overcome the odds
You don't have a chance
(That’s what faith can do)
When the world says you can’t
It’ll tell you that you can!

I’ve seen dreams that move the mountains,
Hope that doesn’t ever end
Even when the sky is falling.
And I’ve seen miracles just happen,
Silent prayers get answered,
Broken hearts become brand new.
That’s what faith can do!
That's what faith can do!
Even if you fall sometimes
You will have the strength to rise.

Kutless—“What Faith Can Do”