Writer's Conference and Calling

This was my first writer's conference; and I pitched my novel to two agents, and the very first pitch, I felt like I was going to choke on my own nervousness. I survived that one, and the agent was very sweet. Fortunately I wasn't as nervous about my second pitch, which was good because that one didn't go so well.

When I told him the length of my fantasy, he proceeded to enlighten me on how the fantasy market works, how difficult it is to break into, and how, if my story is just a story about characters, I should set it in Victorian England instead of a fantasy world (as though a sense of place and story means nothing to me). Well, this got me quite angry, and quite determined that if the fantasy market is indeed as boxed-in as he says it is then it is time for somebody to try something different, like short fantasies that are actually readable by the average Americans rather than the heavy-handed technical jargon that is on the fantasy shelves of Barnes and Noble--suitable only to the diehards.

With that in mind, I am beginning my second short fantasy, and hope to write two before my next conference so that when I again meet with a protesting agent, I can at least come across as serious, if a little idealistic!

a new post

Well, folks, it's time. I'm a writer, after all. Why is it that for months and months I can't seem to organize my thoughts enough to post even a little something?

The answer is a good one. I have written a novel. And pitched it to two agents (although one of them, when he heard that my novel was not one of those 300-page fantasies you see on bookstore shelves, didn't want to hear my pitch). And, after that intriguing experience, was motivated to write another two novels.

Pitching was not successful; I have not had any requests for manuscripts. But I love writing, and I believe that the now small and unpopular fantasy market needs a face-lift--books that are readable by ordinary people like me, books like Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia, or space trilogy. Books to be read and enjoyed, rather than waded and suffered through. And if I never get a publisher for the kind of fantasies I intend to write, at least I know I will always have an interested reader in Eddie!

I'm back!

I finally figured out how to access my account after all this switching over to Google nonsense. Unfortunately (or fortunately, however you look at it) my husband just walked into the library sporting his new contacts and I have an appointment to get my eyes checked in a half-hour. Sorry all my faithful readers. Tis the sad price of good vision.

I have become such a social butterfly. It all started in college when I found myself twenty-four-seven with girls my own age that I had a lot in common with. And now it seems that if I don't get together socially at least three times a week, I have somehow been abandoned, neglected, or misused. Ah, the sad writing career of a socialite!

Happiness

I am blogging because I am happy (not, like so many of my past blogs, because I have a complaint about the weather or busyness or whatever). I look back over the past year of marriage and I could not imagine being happier. Were there any hard moments? I don't remember them. Do we still have many years of struggle ahead? Perhaps, but in all hardships the love of God is far-reaching.

Our pastor once said that we don't hope in the Lord like we should--instead we play the odds. "I had a good day yesterday, now I'm going to have a bad day." Or, "This last year has been so great, it's about time for me to suffer some." Why don't we just trust that He will give us "strength for today, bright hope for tomorrow"?

I am thrilled at what the future may hold. I could try to "prepare" myself for future trials by dwelling on all the possible combinations of bad things that might happen to me. But wouldn't that stifle the joy that the Lord has given me today? What delight to know that the Lord is sovereign, gracious, and merciful.

Well, I always heard other people say "I couldn't do without so-and-so in my life--she changed me so much and made me the person that I am today!" I always scoffed and thought, "pish posh, my own mother's good enough for that." Besides, I'm a product of my culture--I can make my own way in the world without anybody's help or advice.

But I look back this Mother's Day and realize how much I have changed in past years; I have faced big decisions that I couldn't make on my own, I have married when I thought I would be single forever, I have lost friends that I thought I would keep and gained others back that I thought I had lost. And I've come to realize that, corny as it sounds, I couldn't do without the mentors in my life.

Thank you Mom, for everything.
Thank you Mom M, for accepting me into your family and treating me like a daughter.
Thank you Beth, for helping me make one of the biggest decisions of my life (I'm so glad I didn't graduate!)
Thank you Jewel, for your example of grace and truth in marriage.
Thank you Ruth, for your wisdom, firmness, and kindness.
Thank you to the women of my church, for modelling maturity, submission, and the awsome calling of being a woman.

There, I've said it. I couldn't do it on my own.

Same old, same old

Every time I endeavor to post, I end up saying the same things. The weather's cold, marriage is great, writing has been slow. So what?

Life has been so wonderful; I realized this as I was writing my husband's Valentine card today. I couldn't imagine being happier, and there's nothing more that I want. Perhaps I am where Harriet Vane was in "Thrones, Dominations:" when life is in the midst of despair (or at least frustration, or tiredness, or angst) then writing seems to come so naturally. Deep thoughts are quick to spring to the mind; and we rarely sound more eloquent than when we are complaining. But when it comes to writing about happiness, somehow we sound trite, fake; as though the way we are living now could not possibly represent "reality."

But my reality is glorious. I am tired, and keeping house takes more time than I thought possible; but I crawl into bed at night with my husband and we stay up for hours talking about everything--politics, religion, where we want to plant flowers in the yard. And we watch Alfred Hitchcock and Sherlock Holmes and are silly together.

I am content for my deep thoughts to take a hit; and who knows, perhaps one of these days I'll actually figure out how to write a story that ends happily!