Thoughts on...

Please visit my blog, a diary of one writer's journey through my current work-in-progress.

Contents of My Thoughts On

Writing

Critique Groups and Group Think

Rejection

Quitting

Grief

Fragile X Syndrome

Sunflowers—not really, but I thought I should brighten up the list

Writing

There are lots of writers out there. Maybe you're one of them. Many of us, at some point, have asked why we put ourselves through this torment. Before publication we alternately worry about and celebrate our own budding talent even as we envy others who have been offered a contract. Is the pursuit of publication worth the agony of rejection and doubt on that long, long road to success?

After publication we still worry about and celebrate our own talent while we envy others who have bigger, better contracts with bigger, better houses. We still worry whether writing is worth the agony of rejection, (because yes, we still receive them) and we still have doubts on that long, long road to "real" success.

But somehow writing is what we do. We can't NOT do it. We long to convey the experience of life to others. We conjure plot lines like a newly created puzzle and when it fits logically together we're more excited than when our firstborn started walking. (Just don't tell your kids that.)

Plus it's an obvious outlet for all kinds of emotions. We feel something and can't wait to capture it on paper in an unforgettable scene. Usually we're walking around with characters acting out scenes in our head. We long to put them on paper along with those captured emotion, and touch emotional memories in others.

If you can't help but write, then you're a writer. My advice is this: don't seek publication. It's a rough road. But if you, like me, want the validation and the chance to touch as many lives as possible, then prepare yourself for ups and downs the likes of which few other professions can provide. If you do that, you might get somewhere on that long, long road to . . .success?

Critique Groups and Group Think

Critique groups have had a profound impact on my writing life. For one thing I've met some of my closest friends through such groups. By virtue of simply being at a writer's meeting everyone there has openly confessed they have the same desire to write that you do. It's like being at church, where you think everyone has the same desire to worship Christ. It's where people who share something intimate and profound and personal can relate to one another—at least on one important issue.

Within the group you find others with whom you have even more in common: if you join a mixed genre group you might find those who have the same taste you do, in romance or mystery or poetry. If it's already a genre-specific group, like Romance Writers of America (RWA) or a Mystery Writers Group, then you start out with even more in common.

But even in a genre-specific writer's group you still end up narrowing it down to those with whom you have the most in common. Historicals or contemporaries, a certain kind of style or taste. Or we find those who just plain think like we do, those whose voice we admire and who in turn might admire our own. Or maybe we connect with someone who has a similar goal.

And there is the true value of the writer's group: finding someone to trust with your writing, someone with the same passion about it that you have. Someone with whom you can share your writing and inspire each other, encourage one another, comfort and do this writing thing together.

We all long for acceptance. Finding someone who has the same kind of writing taste as your own is nearly sure-fire that they'll accept your writing. Maybe that's why sometimes writers who've been at it a while, who eventually get published, end up dropping out of bigger critique groups. They've found the acceptance they need in their audience but retain a few first readers who understand them, encourage them and keep their writing sharp. They leave the group think of the larger meetings behind them.

Unfortunately, group think does exist even in writer's groups. It's probably part of the human condition, this need to belong that gives the group its power. Sometimes a person brings in something they've written for critique that they believe is just stellar. They want feedback but they want affirmation first. Maybe it is pretty good. But one writer might have an agenda of their own by either trying to rewrite the piece to their own style or perhaps belittle it to prove their own greater insight for having found the flaws others (including the author) have missed. Often other members join in the feeding frenzy and the reading author is left wondering why they ever bothered to be born, let alone think they had an ounce of talent.

Of course the flip side can happen too. An author can bring something in and receive great encouragement, even if the piece needs serious work. If one of the leaders within the group starts the group think on a positive note, the rest of the members might be reluctant to voice their own doubts about a piece. Besides, no one wants to squash someone who keeps plugging away at the craft, and we especially don't want to do that to new writer.

But realize it's sometimes difficult to get an accurate picture of something in a group that falls prey to group think. Written comments might have more honesty but are sometimes too vague or incomplete to explain the true feelings that the piece might have evoked.

So . . .of critique groups I say beware but endure because even with their flaws, critique groups can help you become a better writer if you listen. Find your kindred spirits among them and trust them for the truth. Of course you must be careful not to choose someone who will only give you praise, comfortable as that may appear. You must find someone strong enough, astute enough, to see your faults so that you can grow, but at the same time give you the affirmation you may need. The point is to keep growing, and that's easiest to do with help. If you're not growing as a writer, then you should give it up immediately or throw yourself into the harshest group think session available so you can find the humility to start growing again.

Rejection

Getting published is never a guarantee when you start out writing; however, rejection is . There is nothing good about the first moments after a rejection. It's personal, it hurts and while you're reading the words you will likely doubt yourself, your talent, your value.

But eventually, after time has sewn the first thin, protective layer over the initial wound, you start to see the words as they are. If it's a form letter rejection there is less to be learned. Those are the worst. That's when you need another's input, to see if you can figure it out with the help of a trusted friend.

Sometimes it's as easy as not having done your homework. Did you send your work to a publisher who actually publishes this type of book? Or maybe it's something you have no control over; you've written a terrific suspense with a protagonist who's an FBI agent, but they just bought a suspense with an FBI protagonist and they don't want another right now. Or maybe you've written a wonderful Regency (or cozy mystery, prairie romance, Western, Medieval, Scottish, Irish, you name it) but they're not selling right now. These aren't things they have a form letter rejection to cover, so you're left with only a rejection that tells you nothing. Well, except it told you NO.

If the rejection came with any kind of personal comment, those letters are gold. Golden arrows at first, jabbing you with the message, but after more time goes by and that wound gets another healing layer of protection, you step back and learn what those comments can teach you. You await the fresh eye needed to see your work objectively, and chances are you might even agree with the points contained in those little golden darts. Maybe the rejection will give you the perspective you need to rewrite the project and turn it into a sale.

For me the only way to get over a rejection is to immerse myself back into writing. Of course, that's only after I've allowed a little time to let the depression of rejection ease. We're writers, so expect to be sensitive! Which means even if we develop the proverbial tough skin from all those battle scars, we still have the capacity to go through the whole gamut of emotion. How else do we know the spectrum that brings our characters to life if we don't experience a taste of it ourselves first?

So give yourself permission to be depressed. It's normal. But the main thing is to get back to writing, to delve into your work and start to believe in yourself again because you believe in the value of your work.

One last thing I'll say about rejection, and since I write Inspirationals you can expect it to have something spiritual in the message. It's my firm belief that there is a good amount of spiritual warfare going on in realms we can't see. If whatever you've written might make an impact for God, then there is probably going to be some hindrance that's not always human. Keep that in mind and pray for God's protection, and ask others to pray for your writing ministry as well.

Quitting

My first inclination is to give you a pep talk, be your greatest cheerleader and yank you out of whatever quagmire you're in that has you thinking of such a ridiculous notion. You're no quitter! God's given you a voice and it's your responsibility to use it. I could quote Scripture where we're admonished not to give up, to persevere. (Start with Romans 5:3-4, Hebrews 10:36 and 12:1-2, James 1:2-4) The Apostles had all the credentials needed and more behind their advice not to quit. To top all that, you didn't see Jesus quitting when the going got rough, did you?

The truth is probably everyone who's ever worked at something difficult has wanted to quit at one time or another. Let's face it, if writing for a public market was easy everyone would be doing it. Well, everyone may want to do it based on attendance at writer's conferences, but as you can tell from the ratio of attendees to faculty, not many succeed.

Why would anyone want to keep at something that can be so frustrating? Rejections have a sting no matter where they come from, no matter how many times you've toughed one out.

Plus this business often makes no sense. We see some success stories that, if put in a book, would have been rejected by any editor for its implausibility factor.

Of course we can take comfort in the fact that so many of the classics and bestsellers today were repeatedly rejected before they finally found acceptance. Just type in "Literary Rejections" on any search engine and you'll come up with all kinds of stories. But the fact remains the ones they're talking about ultimately had a good ending, and we can't see around the corner to our own "happy ending." In fact, after a rejection we doubt there will be one. So why not quit?

The first thing I remind myself of in this business is that pride doesn't really have a place. If I want to quit, is it because my pride has been stung by a rejection? Or do I think I'm better than some who've made it, while I sit with my Rejection File getting bigger and bigger?

Sometimes pride is the first thing to fight after you've gotten over the hurt feelings that might be causing you to contemplate quitting. See if pride is playing any part in the decision, and if it is stomp it out. This business may not make sense at times, but ultimately God really is in control and your pride just doesn't have a role.

But the bottom line for me is that I know I can't really quit. I may try for a while, convince myself everyone would be happier if I stopped pursuing this dream. Certainly my family would prefer I spent more time cleaning the house and cooking gourmet meals. Right?

However the fact is when I'm away from writing I'm not as happy as I am when I'm immersed in a project. When we get to do something we're passionate about, something that really excites us, that fills our minds every spare minute, there's nothing else like it. Give it up? Impossible. I'd be nothing but crabby, and nobody believes for a minute I'd have a spotless house and serve gourmet meals anyway. If I was passionate about that sort of thing, maybe . . .

I recently asked my local Romance Writers of America chapter to give me one good reason NOT to quit writing. They came up with some really great answers. Everything from "You might make money at it one day," to "Because otherwise my head would explode." Some talked about having to fill their time with something else, something less enjoyable (cleaning house or cooking, perhaps?). One mentioned how if we didn't keep up our writing and our connections to others who write, no one else would ever understand us. That's like author Brandilyn Collins who says, "There are 'normals,' and then there are writers."

But my favorite answers revolved around the fact of the matter: we can't quit. The voices/characters in your head won't go away just because you've decided to quit. You'll still have story ideas pop up, and characters to best fit those stories. You love writing and that passion isn't going anywhere.

I know in my own life I ignored this passion and eventually I thought it HAD gone away. I remember saying to a friend of mine that I didn't think I'd ever write again. But that was one of those times when I couldn't see around the corner, didn't know that my life would eventually settle down and I would crave that emotional outlet again.

My favorite answer to the quitting question was they couldn't quit because writing is their "expressive outlet for emotion." That's the bottom line, and says best what writing is all about. Capturing emotions onto the page and communicating them to others in a memorable way.

Is there ever a time when quitting is the right thing to do? I suppose some would say no, if you're convinced God wired you to write and you still have stories to tell. After all, God has never given up on mankind even after all we've done to push Him away. So if we're supposed to follow His example, then quitting isn't an option.

But is that the right advice in all instances? I'm not sure. I do know this: Quitting too early is always wrong. But if you've done all you can—honed your writing skills by learning the craft and sharpening your talent, attended conferences, networked and submitted, submitted, submitted, and don't seem to be getting past form letter rejections, then maybe, just maybe it IS time to look at some other aspect of this business. Write reviews for your favorite magazine or e-zine. It won't pay much but writing doesn't either if you don't get published. If you're a good critic, maybe you could check into becoming a first reader for a publishing house. Or maybe you've made some connections along the way and freelance editing is right for you.

But that's not necessarily creating anything, is it? It's still connected to the business, but not in a way that's going to give you that outlet.

Maybe quitting isn't so much the thing to do as taking a leave of absence from it or at least the marketing end of things. If writing isn't what it used to be for you—that pure enjoyment that nothing else can provide—maybe God is calling you to give Him your talents elsewhere for a while. Is there a special circumstance in your life that's calling you away from your writing? A ministry at church that needs you? Family members that need extra care for the time being? Maybe God wants to bring you into another of life's experiences in order to enrich the writing you'll ultimately do. Maybe what He's designed for you to do will bring other blessings, deeper wisdom, fruitful experience ("fodder" for your creativity) when you obey.

Because ultimately it's obedience that God is looking for. Sometimes the blessing to be found in writing is the enjoyment and connection to Him, not in publication or even having others read our work. Sometimes it might be an intimate sharing between you and God, an experience that is meant to bring you closer to Him. Who would want to quit that?

Do you remember the song by Harry Chapin that's about a singer who owns a Dry Cleaning business? Everyone in his small town who's heard him sing tells him he should be a star, he should take the chance and try going professional. So he spends his nest egg on an agent who sets up an important performance where all the right people will be.

Trouble is, the critics pan him. Basically call him "mediocre." He goes home, his nest egg gone, never to sing again except when he's completely alone. Even his customers don't get to hear him sing any more! Clearly the guy quit too soon.

That's about the saddest song Harry ever sang, if you don't count "Cats In the Cradle."

Not long ago I watched a DVD of the rather "old" movie Amadeus . If you haven't seen this movie about how one man's envy of Mozart consumes him, you should (although I do warn you it is rated R and has one or two objectionable scenes). But overall the movie is an intriguing study of those of us in the arts—in this movie's case, music, but can also apply to writing.

Salieri begs God to give him the gift of Heavenly music so that God—and of course Salieri himself—might be glorified. From the get-go you can see that Salieri is sincere and so tragically blind to his own shortcomings. He bargains with God, vowing to give up women and vice so that he may be the perfect instrument through which God might bless the world.

And then along comes Mozart, a genius by most standards. Although this part is rather interesting, too. It's obvious Mozart was a genius. He began performing and composing at an extremely young age (3? I barely had my kids potty trained by that age . . .) Anyway, even though Mozart composed some of the loveliest music of his time, music that's lasted to this day, some of the critics of his time panned him, too. Imagine that—producing something worthwhile only to receive a bad review.

But of course the most fascinating aspect of the movie is Salieri's all-consuming envy. Here he is, an established icon of his time (Court Composer to the Austrian Emperor, when Vienna was the musical capital of the world), and Salieri recognizes the genius in Mozart. Salieri laments that God has given this bawdy, no-good, womanizing imp such a gift while poor Salieri must sweat out each note, write and re write his own forgettable pieces while Mozart seems to simply hear incredibly unforgettable music in his head and all he has to do is record it. How else but through God should such a thing happen? This is an interesting concept in itself, in that talent (as we all know) is not necessarily bestowed upon the people who will make a positive impact. It's like everything else in the world—yes, God is ultimately in control, but since He's set up a faith-based system for us, it often seems random as to who receives talent and who doesn't.

Salieri is such a fascinating example of love and hate. He loves Mozart's work but is so consumed with his own envy that he hates Mozart above all things. By the end of Salieri's life (where this movie actually begins) he accepts the fact that he is the "patron saint of all who are mediocre." Maybe, just maybe, if he'd quit music as a young man he wouldn't have ended up a bitter old man. But I doubt he could have quit, because music was his life.

I may very well be one of the "mediocres" represented by the life of Salieri. I, too, long for a gift that will glorify God but there I pray my similarity to Salieri ends. I pray not that my name will be noticed but the Lord's will be glorified in each of my books. I praise God that He doesn't expect me to "work" for this gift except to be obedient and write (and re-write). I rest on the work of Christ to make me worthy to use whatever talent He's let me borrow, and to keep going when I feel like quitting.

And I pray, too, that the Lord who loves me will guard me against pride and envy. Let me taste Heaven and rejoice in excellence no matter which of us produces it. Let Him remind me of this: His glory, His love for me, His commission to bring others to Him—perhaps through a well-written story.

So maybe sometimes quitting has to be okay, but only after you can confidently say to yourself you did all you could, gave it your absolute best, but it just didn't work out. As I've said before, sometimes this world doesn't make sense and not all talented people receive validation in the form of getting published.

But it's my gut feeling that though you might try quitting, I doubt you'll be able to. Eventually you'll get over the most recent rejection or bad review, or finish whatever short-term mission God might take you on. Eventually some new project will entice you or a remake of an old will beckon, and there you'll be again. Writing.

Grief

As I write this I'm still trying to convince myself grief is a gift sent to me in order to grow my character and make me a better person and a better writer. The Bible says in 2nd Corinthians that God is a God of comfort and allows grief for us to become comforters to others. One effective way to do that is through the printed word. But I still fight against bitterness, resentment, and isolation while striving toward depth, insight and compassion. Living with grief is often not a short-term battle but rather an ongoing war. Some days are better than others.

I've learned a few things in the process of grief. The first thing I learned, before I ever experienced my own first real taste of it, is that it lasts longer than others might expect. I saw this in a friend whose house burned down, destroying most of her possessions. Wedding pictures and gifts, irreplaceable family heirlooms, personal records, etc. You function and don't look like you're in despair, but sometimes people don't realize that inside you're still grieving—perhaps long after you should have "gotten over" whatever it was that caused the grief in the first place. Whether it's losing a parent or having an important relationship end, losing everything in a house fire or having a child diagnosed with a disease that will forever change your life, don't expect a designated time limit for your grief to end. Take as long as you need and know that others are wrong if they intimate "you should be over that by now."

But one note about this idea of taking as long as you need. If you think you should be "over it" then maybe check at your church for a grief recovery program, or talk to your pastor or seek counseling. While it's perfectly normal to take longer than you expect to get over something, especially if you're upbeat by nature, there's nothing wrong with seeking professional help or getting into a group with others who are dealing with grief, too.

I'd also like to add that grief and depression are two different things even though obviously one comes with the other. Depression can be unrelated to a "season" of grief and is sometimes as much physcial as emotional. So if you battle with depression (or clinical depression) then getting help is especially important.

Grief is repetitive. That means you might go through one area of the loss, whatever it is, and think by recognizing and acknowledging this particular facet of your grief, along with your tears, you've proven you've dealt with it. But then you find yourself right back at that same spot some time in the future, grieving that same aspect you've already faced. This is normal, too.

I didn't know isolation was part of the grieving process. We don't want to inflict our pain on others, especially if they think "we should be over that by now." So we tend to stay home. This is something that, over time, can develop into a habit and one day you'll wake up and wonder where all of your friends went. You used to have some and you don't recall any big arguments and yet nearly everyone seems to have disappeared. This is fixable but it takes work to get back into the kind of life you had before grief became part of it. It's easy to stay home and live with your grief and it's hard to force yourself to mix with others, forget your grief for a time, and stay connected. But that's what it takes.

Another thing I learned is more cerebral than emotional. It's to accept that God is good, after all. I doubted this when I faced grief for the first time. How could a good God who loves me enough to die for me allow this to happen to me? I'm sorry to say I've never found a thoroughly satisfactory answer so I can't offer one today either. The bottom line is that even if we had the perfect answer to the question of "Why does a loving God allow bad things?" it probably wouldn't make our grief go away anyway. There are, however, some cerebral facts that help. Keep in mind they won't remove the grief or explain much, but these are some of the things I tell myself when this comes up in my mind.

Depending on the depth of your grief, some form of it will probably stay with you throughout your life. You won't really "get over it," you'll adjust to it and carry it around with you like your own, tailor made cross in that old story. Eventually you might need to work your way to a place where you can live with things the way they are.

When your grief isn't so raw, practice focusing on something other than your loss or the reason for your grief. In Philippians 4:8 we're reminded to think about whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely and admirable, about excellence and things that are praiseworthy. If we don't do this, if we dwell only on our pain, it's like inviting bitterness to reside next to that grief.

So the tip here? Since I'm not only a writer but an avid reader, I recommend reading. Find books that are uplifting, that offer hope and view things from a perspective that will point you upward.

And listen to praise music. In Psalms 42:5 it says "Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise Him..." If we're to thank God for everything, that includes these things we never would have chosen. Sometimes it's an obedience thing and the emotions will someday follow.

So put what you're dwelling on through the Philippians 4:8 grid. Is it excellent and praiseworthy? Will it help you remember that life is more than what began your grief?

Are you trusting that God is still there, beside you during this time? Natalie Grant has a wonderful song called "Held." It's about the sure knowledge that God holds us through our grief, and so we survive.

A visiting pastor at my church talked about this very subject and one of the things he recommended was a "Mood Manager." It's simply an affirmational statement you can write yourself to clearly state the truth that remains no matter our circumstances. The truth is that God loved us enough to die for us and is a living, loving being who is beside us in our grief no matter the cause.

Remind yourself that today you will manage your mood and not allow the grief to debilitate you. This may last only moments or hours or even a whole day, but for as long as you can, acknowledge that life isn't only about your grief. This is the day the Lord has made, and the day of your grief is passed. For a moment today choose peace.

If your grief is fresh, I hope you will realize one thing: you will know joy again even if your grief never leaves you completely. The first time you feel cheerful again, well after the initial grief strikes, you'll be surprised. Maybe the happy spots will be far apart but eventually they'll get closer and outweigh the overwhelming sadness. No single emotion lasts forever—joy or grief.

Joy will be back.

Fragile X

What is Fragile X Syndrome?

Me and Fragile X

Anyone who knows me or has read The Oak Leaves (Tyndale, 2007) realizes that Fragile X is a huge part of my life. My son was diagnosed with this genetic form of mental retardation when he was around a year and a half. Because he was the first in our family to exhibit any kind of limitations, it came as a shock to learn not only was I a carrier but so were my two sisters.

Upon the diagnosis, I had to accept one of my children would live a life of constant limitations. I cannot briefly describe what it's like to learn the child we thought we had turned out to be someone who would always need us to take care of him. Anyone who has a child with a disability knows what it's like to face the fact that your child is "different," that most hopes and dreams you hold for them probably won't come true.

Which leads me to a brief note on expectations.

I expected "normal" children. I had to readjust those expectations when my son was diagnosed. His life wasn't going to be Kindergarten through college then out of the nest; it's Special Ed and adult housing and many kinds of therapy in between.

Then, I read the Fragile X literature and expected a "typical" Fragile X'er. But as my son got older and failed to meet even the "typical" milestones set by most kids with this disorder who are higher functioning, I was forced again to readjust.

I also had certain expectations of friends and family: A community feeling of everyone rallying-round and helping us face the daily challenges, day after day, year after year. But mental retardation means unexpected, a-typical behavior and most people are just too uncomfortable around those with such a disorder. So, I changed my expectations again.

Maybe this "readjustment of expectations" was the biggest lesson learned from having Fragile X enter my life. But my expectations were just that—mine. They weren't part of God's plans.

If I had a choice I wouldn't have chosen to carry a Fragile X gene. Yet it's there and I'm learning to surrender those old expectations. It gets easier the more times I do it.

I've also learned something every bit as important, and that's how deep love can be, and as selfless as it needs to be, as endless. Almost daily it reminds me of how much God must love me, despite all of my faults and shortcomings and how silly I was to want to cling to all those expectations to begin with. No one knows their own future, it's always best to leave that in God's hands and trust Him when He leads in a new direction.

So if God takes you on a path you never expected to go, let go and look up. He's there in the midst of it all—with blessings you never expected, either.

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