Just the two of us

In my house, it's just my Hubby and me. It's quite. Peaceful. Calm.

A few years ago, we had a couple of dogs that stirred up the atmosphere, but the older one died three years ago. Then his son died last August. Now we just have lovely little Lola, a mini Schnauzer and Red, a very old and loud cat.

My writer friends, my sister, my sister-in-law have family blogs, detailing things their children do that will have you rolling on the floor, laughing. Then there's the Pioneer Woman's blog. Puts us ALL to shame.

I don't have any life-at-home anecdotes. Seriously, do you want me to detail how Lola jumps in my lap every time we drive to a place she's never been (McDonalds is really old news to her now. And Publix.) and smashes my Diet Coke, spilling it into my console. I didn't think so.

I could tell you about a dream where a man I only knew by face entered the dream, began to pray in a way that sparked the song of the Lord in me and an entire room came to attention. I met him last week when I saw him in a book store in Kansas City. I recognized him from the back.

I could share how I can't even make an apple crumb dish from a PRE-MIXED package because I added too much butter. Hey, it melted when I tried to soften it in the oven. I had to add it or throw it away. Perfectly good butter. No can do.

Let's see. The carpets were cleaned today. True excitement there.

Got my hair done. Let's see. Ate warmed up Dominoes pizza for dinner. Am writing a book. Now you're talking. . . now you're talking.

Umph, climbing back up on the blogging band wagon

I fell off again. Thunk! Did you hear it?

I was trying to be good, diligent, writing my next novel without distraction. I couldn't bring myself to give up words. And emotion.

Not that blogging is not worth my time, effort and good words, more like whenever I make a bit of head way on my story, I pop over to a blog or email and drain the emotional energy it takes to write.

I was in Kansas City last week. My great idea to write and prayer didn't turn out as I'd imagined.

In my mind's eye, I'd go to the prayer room in the morning, then write in the afternoons. But I was struggling with the story and decided to give the book my best and first-morning creativity.

Being in the prayer room required a different kind of emotion and energy. Between the worship and the prayers being offered corporately, I was pulled into the room to do what it was designed to do -- engage in intercession.

I felt guilty for not writing, then I felt guilty for not praying. So, I went to the coffee shop. Noisy. Naturally. All the held-in conversations from the prayer room were let loose in the coffee shop. I did get some writing done in there, but I also ran into folks I knew, (Hey Don and Alberto!) wanted to say a quick hello.

I holed up in Cassie's apartment one afternoon. Then locked down in Stuart and Esther's basement (a nice room down there) for a few nights. But, they are good friends and it'd been awhile since I'd seen them and conversation was impossible to avoid.

I was also story-STUCK. Very stuck. Not sure how to unscramble and put the plot back together. Susie May and I plotted Wednesday afternoon. Read more about it here.

Most of the time, I felt out of my element. I pushed, wrote, hated half of every word, and decided my experiment didn't work out as well as I'd hoped. No one's fault. Just a lesson learned.

I did love spending time with my friend Julia, my girl Cassie and dear ones, Stuart and Esther. Also caught up with the Foix's and Nayomi and her daughter. Got to say hello to one of my favorite worship leaders, Justin Rizzo, and sat in some amazing intercession sets.

On Friday just before retiring to Stu and Es's place for the night, and preparing to leave Saturday morning, Es and I went into the bookstore. Wanted to get a t-shirt for Tony. As I was heading to the check out, I saw a man I recognized but did not know.

A few months ago I had a dream about intercession at Church on the Rock. This man walked up the prayer mike, began praying with a clear, distinct sound. I began to sing the same kind of sound.

I didn't know who he was nor could I describe him in any way to those who might. But there he was in the bookstore! I asked his name then shared the dream. While I'm not sure all the Lord is doing with the dream, I was so blessed to meet the man who helped deliver such a clear sound of the Lord.

Saturday I flew home without incident. Spent time on the plane meditating on my story. Susie May suggested my life is too good of a place to relate to my heroine. She's right. I need to dig deep and understand where she's coming from and what's going on in her life, in her heart.

So, we are into fall. The nights grow darker earlier. It's cozy and peaceful. While I'm not sure of what my time in KC produced, or how God will use it, I'm confident He works all things together for good.

Welcome Cindy Woodsmall and The Sound of Sleigh Bells

I'm happy to have my good friend Cindy Woodsmall back to my blog with her new book, The Sound of Sleigh Bells.

Cindy is a New York Times best-selling author whose connection with the Amish has been featured on ABC Nightline and the front page of the Wall Street Journal. Her ability to authentically capture the heart of her characters comes from her real-life connections with Plain Mennonite and Old Order Amish families.

Cindy is the mother of three sons and two daughters-in-law. She and her husband reside in Georgia. Visit her Web site at www.CindyWoodsmall.com

The Sound of Sleigh Bells

Beth Hertzler works alongside her beloved Aunt Lizzy in their dry goods store, and serving as contact of sorts between Amish craftsmen and Englischers who want to sell the Plain people's wares.

But remorse and loneliness still echo in her heart everyday as she still wears the dark garb, indicating mourning of her fiance. When she discovers a large, intricately carved scene of Amish children playing in the snow, something deep inside Beth's soul responds and she wants to help the unknown artist find homes for his work‚ including Lizzy's dry goods store. But she doesn't know if her bishop will approve of the gorgeous carving or deem it idolatry.

Lizzy sees the changes in her niece when Beth shows her the woodworking, and after Lizzy hunts down Jonah, the artist, she is all the more determined that Beth meets this man with the hands that create healing art. But it's not that simple. Will Lizzy's elaborate plan to reintroduce her niece to love succeed? Will Jonah be able to offer Beth the sleigh ride she's always dreamed of and a second chance at real love‚ or just more heartbreak?

The Sound of Sleigh Bells is a heartwarming Christmas novella where lack and abundance inside an Amish community has power for good when it' tucked inside love. Romantic Times gave The Sound of Sleigh Bells 4 stars, saying ~ This is a wonderfully written, transformative story of two Amish families at Christmastime. It will bring sleigh-riding memories to life as readers vicariously join in this jolly and exciting holiday tradition.

To read the first chapter of The Sound of Sleigh Bells, go here.

To purchase through Amazon.

To purchase through CBD.com.

White Picket Fences by Susan Meissner

Welcome to my friend, Susan Meissner, and one of my favorite authors. Susan's writing inspires me and her last release, Shape of Mercy, stayed with me for weeks.

Susan's new release, White Picket Fences is out and I'm looking forward to this amazing story.

Readers of emotional dramas that are willing to explore the lies that families tell each other for protection and comfort will enjoy White Picket Fences.

The novel is ideal for those who appreciate exploring questions like: what type of honesty do children need from their parents, or how can one move beyond a past that isn’t acknowledged or understood? Is there hope and forgiveness for the tragedies of our past and a way to abundant grace?

The story:

When her black sheep brother disappears, Amanda Janvier eagerly takes in her sixteen year-old niece. Tally is practically an orphan: motherless, and living with a father who raises Tally wherever he lands– in a Buick, a pizza joint, a horse farm–and regularly takes off on wild schemes. Amanda envisions that she and her family can offer the girl stability and a shot at a “normal” life, even though their own storybook lives are about to crumble.

What led you to write White Picket Fences?

Several years ago I was a court-appointed advocate for children involved in protective services. There were times when I saw that despite the outward appearance of a less-than-perfect home, a child could be loved there.

Just because a parent is unconventional or unsuccessful career-wise or makes choices that buck societal norms, it doesn’t mean that he or she is by default a "bad" parent. Likewise, parents who we would traditionally call "good" -meaning they provide, they protect, they don’t hit, they don’t ridicule - can nevertheless make decisions regarding their children that have hugely negative effects and yet their outward appearance would never lead anyone to suspect it.

Even if you live behind a white picket fence, you still have to deal with the fallout of a living in a broken world. You can't hide from it. The perfect, idyllic life is an illusion. Life is a weave of both delight and disappointment and it’s precisely these things that give it definition and depth. To ignore what is ugly is to cheapen what is beautiful.

You dovetailed a current day family drama with the Holocaust and the Warsaw Ghetto. Why the connection?

I think it's fair to say that the depth of the atrocities inflicted during the Holocaust wasn't fully appreciated until after the war. There was ugliness happening, if you will, and much of the West failed to see it -- for whatever reason. Within the horror, though, people made brave choices, selfless choices. And there were survivors who had to choose what they would take with them from the ashes of their suffering. I wanted to explore how a person makes that decision. Even the decision to pretend it never happened is a decision regarding those ashes.

What do you think interests you about the intersection of personal relationships and perceptions – a theme you wove into both The Shape of Mercy and White Picket Fences?

I see every great work of fiction being about human relationships. Gone With the Wind is so much more than just an epic story with the Civil War as a backdrop. It's a story of human relationships. Scarlett and Ashley, Scarlett and Rhett, Scarlett and Melanie, Scarlett and her father. It's within our closest relationships that our brightest virtues and worst flaws are exposed. That's why there is such tremendous story value within intimate human relationships. We are at our best and our worst when we are responding and reacting to the people who shape who we are. Human history is the story of relationships and what they teach us about what we value. And what we don't.

White Picket Fences is a different kind of novel than your acclaimed book, The Shape of Mercy, but there are some similarities too. Can you explain those?

As with The Shape of Mercy, there is a historical thread in White Picket Fences, though it is not as dominant. The invasion of Poland by the Nazis is woven into the story, and provides the backdrop for Chase's and Tally's discoveries about hope, dreams, and redemption. This thread is enhanced by visits to a nursing home where Chase and Tally meet a man blind from birth who survived the occupation of Poland. It is also a story that draws its pathos from family dynamics and the near-universal desire we have to make straight what is crooked. There are two young protagonists in "White Picket Fences," like there was in "The Shape of Mercy," as well as a third character, who, along with the two men in the nursing home, provide a similar multi-generational story thread.

What do you hope readers come away with after reading White Picket Fences?

The pivotal moment in the story for me is when Josef says to Chase: "[This] is what all survivors must decide. We have to decide how much we will choose to remember, how much courage we are willing to expend to do so."

It takes courage to acknowledge and remember what drove you to your knees or nearly killed you. If you choose to forget – and that's assuming you actually can – then it seems to me you suffered for nothing. You are different but you don’t spend any time contemplating – or celebrating – how. I'd be happy if there was a takeaway for someone out there who needs to consider that.

RH: Great thoughts, Susan!

Susan's bio:

Susan Meissner is the multi-published author of The Shape of Mercy, named one of the Best Books in 2008 by Publishers Weekly the ECPA’s Fiction Book of the Year. She is also a speaker and writing workshop leader with a background in community journalism. A devotee of purposeful pre-writing, Susan encourages workshop audiences to maximize writing time by mapping the writing journey and beginning from a place of intimate knowledge. She is the leader/moderator of a local writer's group, a pastor's wife and the mother of four young adults. A native San Diegan, Susan attended Point Loma Nazarene University. When she's not writing, Susan directs the Small Groups and Connection Ministries program at The Church at Rancho Bernardo.

You can purchase White Picket Fences here:

And read an excerpt here:

4 Writers and Me on what makes us feel MOST like ourselves

In Oprah's eponymous magazine, there's a fun article: "4 Authors on What Makes Them Feel Most Like Themselves.

Among the featured authors was Anne Lamott, author of Bird by Bird, Traveling Mercies, and Imperfect Birds. Here's Anne's answers.

I look most like myself…in worn jeans and a tight-ish white T-shirt.

I act most like myself…at church, overeating after worship.

I feel most like myself… lying in bed on Sunday mornings with the dogs and the cat, reading The New York Times.

I feel least like myself…when I have to socialize with people I do not know.

***

I thought it'd be fun to play along, in all of my writerly anonymity.

I look most like myself…in worn jeans and a T-shirt or top, wearing flip flops or my Ohio State crocks.

I act most like myself…at church, at home with friends. Well, pretty much anytime. I am what I am!

I feel most like myself… when I'm with hubby, writing or watching DVDs. When I'm worshipping.

I feel least like myself…when I'm around certain individuals in the publishing industry. I feel so awkward and geeky.

What about you? What makes you feel most like yourself. If you're so inclined, copy and paste the question into the comments and give your own answers!



Next: When Mary Karr acts most like herself

Siri Mitchell Winners and the weekend

Congratulations to Carol Jarvis, Angie Brennan and Crystal Offhaus, winners of Siri's latest books! I actually had two copies of Constant Heart so I picked an extra winner.

Send me your snail mail ladies! :) Click on the Contact page and send it through there.

So, what's planned for the weekend?

I'm going into "deep dark mode" meaning submerging myself in writing. See you all next week!

Is there a med out there for blogfobia?

Because I think I have it. A disease. Blogfobia. See, I can't even spell phobia! How'd it all start, Rachel, you ask.

Well, um, see, a loooong time ago, 2002, I started blogging in Diaryland. Just fun little tidbits about my days, news of my writing, my first book contract, life at the office. Which, btw, was nothing like the TV show.

I switched to Xanga, then Blogger. I hopped onto MySpace, then Facebook and a myriad of other social sites. Blogging became key to a new writer's existence. Everyone started blogging.

All my deep, personal thoughts, funny bits about Santa Mouse Christmas songs suddenly became fodder for comparison to all the other genius writers now blogging. People started, gasp, giving stuff away. Books, iPods, prizes. Bloggers were funny. Wise. Full of publishing industry information.

Suddenly I'm Aubrey Montegue in Chariots of Fire, running the Steeple Race, landing in mud puddles, tripping over hurdles, coming in last.

Am I to be funny? Every day?! Am I to be deep and wise? Every day?! Should I give stuff away? Did I mention I'm a fledgling author?

Am I to go on about publishing industry news? Add posts of self promotion? Interview other authors. Write book reviews.

Ahhhh, I don't know what to blog any more! Is there such a thing as a blogging trainer? I need to get in shape!

I don't feel so good.... "Mooooommm!"

Don't worry. There's not enough people who read my blog to pick up my germs and spread the disease. Maybe there's a blogphobia hospital where I can recoup with all the other authors suffering from "what do I blog?"

I use all my best brain to write books! Now, I must write an award winning blog. Sorry, I'm just not that competitive.

Don't worry. I'm strong. I'm healthy. I'll recover.