"For Such a Time as This"

I know it probably has a lot to do with being sick, but I've had some feelings lately that I can't really put a label on. My heart has just felt heavy, my spirit overwhelmed. I've been keeping a journal of thoughts, and I've been praying and reading a lot of scripture, looking for peace. Today, as I was looking for a blank CD, I stumbled upon a long lost concert choir CD from 2004 -- 8 years ago! Can it be that long? It wasn't our professional one, just an archival CD with several low-quality recordings of live performances. I was honestly curious to see what was on it; I didn't recognize many of the titles listed on the CD skin.

What a wonderful trip down a very forgotten memory lane! I loved listening to each track, gasping as I found myself remembering intricate melodies and words that haven't so much as tickled a neuron in almost a decade. But as I listened to the following song "For Such a Time As This", my feelings changed from nostalgia to reassurance. They are such beautiful, enheartening words, set so naturally to a pensive melody. It fed my soul. The artwork is Brian Kershisnik, and the subject matter was equally as meaningful to me. Do you know what it is?

For such a time as this,

For times of drought and shallowness,

Of wild and dusty wilderness,

Plant us deep in wonder, God,

Humble in thy holy word.

In wonder planted deep,

In marvel at Creation's play,

At starlit night and sunlit day,

Root us well in gratitude,

Awestruck by beatitude.

By thankful wonder fed,

Like oak trees reaching high and broad,

And rooted fast in Thee, oh God,

Grow us in compassion full,

Christ the firstfruit of us all.

Compassion green and bless

Our lives to rampant fruitfulness,

For crying out at wickedness,

May we fruits of justice bear,

Harvest of Thy love and care.

May all our lives bear fruit,

Not from our will but to us due,

But all our fruitfulness from You,

Hearts of justice, hearts of peace,

Just for such a time as this.

~Wayne Watson

Moment of Truth

I am about to do something very scary.

I'm currently doing the last proof-read of my book, and then I'm publishing it on the Amazon kindle. I'm really excited about it, but it's interesting to me that some of the things I'm most looking forward to are also some of the things that scare me the most:

1. The project will be finished. No more proof-reading and editing and restructuring and workshopping, etc. I'll be so happy to be done, but it also means that any mistakes I've made, or problems with the structure of the book will be there forever.

2. I'll finally get to work on marketing the book. Right now, that sounds fun and exciting, but what if I hit wall after wall?

3. I'll get to hear what people really think of my writing. Pure, untempered criticism. Exciting, but very, very terrifying.

I'm so excited to get this book on the kindle! I'll be sure to announce once it's there!

Is Letter Writing Dead?

Anyone who knew me as a child probably received a letter from me at some point in time. I was always, and still consider myself to be, an avid letter-writer. And I'm not talking email. While that has an important place in today's world of correspondence, when I say "letter", I'm referring to a handwritten hard-copy one finds in the real mailbox at the bottom of their driveway. I have always thought there was something incredibly fun, even magical, about finding a letter waiting for you. It's something tangible, that was physically held by the sender just a few days before. I find letter-writing to be a very human method of connection.

But is that method obsolete? There are so many more convenient ways to connect with somebody--letters add days of chronological separation. If the goal is to relay events in real-time, letter-writing disappoints. There is the added effort that goes into mailing a letter, but is love truly measured by logistical difficulty?

I have two cousins in particular with whom I exchanged letters for nearly a decade: Jessica (on my dad's side), and Jorie (on my mom's). Our respective exchanges would have occurred 1990-1997, roughly. I still have most of the letters. (But how is that different than having my emails forever saved in my inbox--I frequently reread those, too.)

Maybe the time period was different then: long-distance phone calls on a land line were expensive, and email wasn't really around, or perhaps not widely used. (Not wide enough for ME to have access to it, at least.) Letter-writing really was my only viable option for keeping in touch with my cousins (who were also among my very closest friends). Maybe it was a product of my age, or lack thereof -- I didn't DREAM of having a cell phone until I was in college. Growing up, then, I didn't get cellphones for Christmas. I got stationery. (Which, incidentally, was on my Christmas list every year without fail.)

Perhaps it was something about the delayed gratification. There is a lot of waiting involved in letter-writing. When Reed was serving in Brazil, waiting for those letters nearly killed me, but they came. It was the same as a child--when a letter finally arrived, it was already long-expected (perhaps overdue!). With Jorie, who lived in Canada, a response could take anywhere from 3-4 weeks!

Maybe that's where the magic lies: in the waiting. In the deliberate slowness of a conversation. In the listening that takes two weeks. In reading and re-reading words from the sender, treating them as a little more valuable, because they took so long to get here. And then choosing your words just as carefully during your response, tucking them safely in an envelope and sending them traveling back to the recipient, who is no doubt already checking the mailbox.

Am I holding on to letter-writing as one holds on to an old blankie? It's no longer of any use, but I just can't seem to give it up. Any other letter-writing survivors out there? Or is this truly a dying art?

Request from an Agent

I've had another request from an agent! This will be the seventh request I've had for a partial manuscript (anywhere from 15-100 pages). The first six agent ultimately turned the book down.

I've really been working HARD on making this book the best it can be -- I've cut so much fluff, changed entire segments to move the plot forward more rapidly, and axed characters who weren't contributing. Editing your own book is so difficult, because your so close to everything. But I'm really trying to do what it takes to become a published author.

Hopefully, an agent will accept my work and want to represent me. If not this one, though, there will be another one. I've just got to stay positive and keep at it.

First Rejection

Well, I guess I'm a real author now.

I got my first rejection letter last week.

On to the next agent!

Going to Asilomar!

I am so excited! This week, I received an email informing me that there was an open slot at the Asilomar Writer's Conference, so I talked to Reed, and I am going! Asilomar is a beautiful state park near Monterey, California, right on the coast.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with what a writing conference is, it's a convention where writers of a particular genre get together to discuss the craft. There are tons of authors who come to speak.

Here's a photo of the main lecture hall on the Asilomar campus:

Here's the inside--isn't it beautiful?
The campus is spread out all over the state beach.
This is the social hall, where the meet-and-greets happen.

I am particularly happy to be going, because an agent I am interested in will be there. There are all these rules and etiquette regarding how you approach an agent, but for the most part, a conference is a decent opportunity to pitch a book to them. (Cue nervousness)

I'm getting all my documents in order, I've contacted my peer-editor, made my plane tickets, arranged for my mom to watch Cal (she was only too happy to accept), and ordered materials that I need. This is going to be a busy week, preparing my manuscript, synopses, and such.

I'm excited! Feb 19-21, think of me!