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 |   Exploring the future through the present. One day at a time. |
| I know I promised to talk about faith in my next entry, but right now I have no motivation to do much of anything but sit in front of the air conditioner. However, I did want to point you to the second interview with Ashford Radio I did on Saturday. You can find it at http://www.ashfordradio.com. Click on the second microphone (Studio B) and scroll down to the On Demand Episodes. This time I talked about my books, why I wrote them and writing in general. I tell you, those 30 minutes really flew by. I did stumble a bit at the beginning, but I again think I did well. I'll be doing three others, each on Saturday morning at 9am Central. I will continue to point you to the archives when they're out if you miss the live feed. Later and Happy Sunday. Stay cool. |
| First of, to listen to the show I did on Saturday, go to http://www.ashfordradio.com . From there click on the first microphone that says “Radio Studio A”. From there scroll down until you see my name. Click on that and the show will start playing. Overall, I think it went well. I didn’t stutter too much. At least I don’t think I did. Just over halfway through, they accidentally cut me off and had to call me back. It was a good experience, and I wasn’t as nervous as I anticipated. Many a prayer was whispered as I waited for the show to start, let me tell ya. Turns out I needn’t have worried about whether or not I would be more open about my faith during the interview. The subject never came up as the interviewer focused on my job and what Land Surveying entails. My biggest concern was that I described what land surveying is without talking over people’s heads. As with any technical occupation, there is a tendency to techno-speak. I tried to stay away from it, but I’m not willing to listen to the interview and find out. I never did like the sound of my voice (although I’ve never heard anyone else complain about it). I prefer blissful ignorance and believe I did okay. Why listen to the show and discover I sucked? Yeah, when it comes to this, I prefer delusion. Since I received such good feedback so far, I’m doing another four half-hour interviews over the next four Saturdays staring at 9am Central time. These will focus more on my writing and photography. A perfect venue to talk about my faith since it’s such an integral part of my writing. As with the first one, it will be archived. I’ll provide a link should you miss it. But it’s hot, I have a cold (when I just got over one two weeks ago), and I’m tired. I think my next entry (should I have more mental energy) will be about the definition of faith, and why it can be such a struggle at times. Later! |
| When I started writing my first book, I couldn't wait for it to be published. I wanted to see my name in print right now! That was ten years ago. Sure my name has seen print with three short stories, as many articles and a self-published novella, but my novel is still in limbo. I'm not concerned about it. In these last ten years, God has taught me patience. But it is patience I've finally gained, or is it complacency? A bit of both? I haven't written much of anything since my last entry in March. Four months! Hard to believe. Where did the time go? Admittedly I wasted a lot of it catching up on favorite tv shows and movies (Netflix and Hulu can be quite addicting). Over the last few weeks, my fingers have been itching to write. But write what? Sure I submitted two articles to AUGIWorld, but each one took less than four hours to write. Two of my books need serious edits, and I'm about a fifth the way through the first. Not something to brag about, because I've been working on that since January. I'd also like to rewrite "Traitors," or at least the first three chapters. I went through the comments for the Genesis Contest last year, and realized the first part needed work. My first draft started with an assassin right before she entered the house to kill her victim. I had since changed it beginning with the assassination itself while in the mind of the victim. Based on the comments, I decided the story would be better the way I had it originally. Funny, that. My instincts were right to begin with. It's a good thing I keep all my major drafts, both on computer and hard copy. I also need to come out of the shadows a bit. I've been in hiding, mostly because I've let my faith stagnate some. Okay, a lot. I haven't gone to church since January, and I've barely picked up my Bible since then. My only communion with God in any capacity is when I say bedtime prayers with my son. A few weeks ago, I received a phone call from Ashford Radio. They wanted to do a half-hour radio interview of me. I was ambivalent at first, but finally agreed. Partly it was due to cost. They wanted $2000. Not happening. After saying no about three times, they took away features such as a plaque and travel vouchers, and lowered the price to $500. I figured if I want to come out of my shell,and start promoting myself more, a half-hour interview live-streamed on the Internet would be the boost I need. Even if I do have to pay for it. They called me this afternoon for a pre-interview, and one of the questions they asked was, "Who was your biggest influence on your life?" On the tip of my tongue was, "Jesus," but I instead said, "Mostly my parents." That's when I realized just how far I let my relationship with Jesus falter. Didn't he say, "those who acknowledge me to others, I will acknowledge in heaven, and those who deny me, I will deny in heaven?" (Paraphrased because I'm too lazy to get off my bum and look it up). If I were to split hairs, I could say I didn't deny him outright, but I sure didn't acknowledge him either. Luckily I have another opportunity during the actual interview to say what I wanted -- and needed -- to say. Hopefully I won't chicken out then. I also focused more on my actual job as a land surveyor and less on my writing during the pre-interview. Mostly because writing has taken a back seat to other priorities. But, we'll see what happens during the actual interview. I may just have to sit down with God for an hour or two beforehand and discuss with him what I should say. He's never let me down, even when I've let him down so many times. God's kinda great that way. You can listen to the interview on http://www.ashfordradio.com, on Saturday, 7/23/2011 at 12pm EST. You can also read the press release: http://www.prlog.org/11594676-ashford-radio-is-pleased-to-announce-andra-marquar... |
| In my last entry, I described how well my dad was doing, and for about two weeks, he was. But then he went in to see the doctor and they discovered the cancer had picked up speed. The chemo was no longer making any difference. They gave him another chemo option, but warned him that even though it might give him a few more weeks, it would also make him very sick. He decided to forego it, and – to use a bad cliche – let nature take it's course. We had planned on going down for Easter, but the hospice nurse called Dave this afternoon to tell him we might want to visit him sooner. Not because he's that close to death so much, but because he's beginning to get confused. Tom will be more aware that we're there and be better able to interact with us now versus later. But I am not ready. I'm not ready to say goodbye. I'm not ready to watch my dad fade away. I'm not ready to prepare for and go to his funeral. I'm not ready to go through his stuff and parcel it out according to his will. I'm not ready to watch his loved ones grieve. I'm not prepared to grieve myself. I'm not ready to explain to my son why he'll never again see his grandfather. I'm not ready to accept my dad will not watch my son grow up. But ready or not, all these things must happen. I cannot avoid it, or run away screaming – as much as I want to right now. God, give me the strength to do all those things, because I can't do it on my own. |
In my previous entry partyof5  said, " . . . I can also tell you there are a lot of positives that come out of such a thing" with regards to my dad.At first glance it can be hard to find anything positive to note about a loved one dying of cancer. Heck, it takes more than two. Sometimes one must have a microscope to find even a dust-sized one. But first, a little more back story: Four years ago, my mom decided she couldn't spend one more moment in Colorado -- for many reasons which I will not get into here. She neither consulted Tom, nor gave him any warning that she had purchased property and a house up near Dave and I. The reason she gave at the time was to be closer to Dave and I when we finally had the baby we were working toward. Tom came up with her, but decided he couldn't live here. Being forced did not help any. He tried spending a few months here, a few months in Colorado for about a year, but it didn't work. They divorced about two years ago now. Seeing how happy and content my mom is (something I've never seen in my lifetime), I figured it was something God wanted. Yet, I wondered about Tom. About this time depression hit him hard. He'd come up to visit us and his grandson, and spent much of our conversations in tears. It was strange and a little frightening to see him break down like that. I prayed to God multiple times, "I know you meant for my mom to be here, but what about taking care of Tom? You aren't going to leave him behind, are you?" God often assured me that he wouldn't. How he would accomplish it hit us all broadside. He allowed the cancer. I won't say God caused it, but he allowed it. Why? Why bring such suffering to a man who many would say didn't deserve it (myself included)? Because God knows what it takes to force us to our knees and turn to him. My dad has been successfully self-reliant for as long as I've known him. Some would say he's even lived a charmed life. Never once has he needed (from his perspective) to lean on anyone. Cancer takes all of that away. It's something that too often can't be fixed, least of all the person who has it. Tom is now forced to lean on his doctors and his family. He sees that his days are few, and for the first time asked, "What happens afterward?" He started to ask spiritual questions: Is there a God? Does he love me? Can he love me? God has graciously shown me a few parts of his plan for Tom. The cancer is but one of them. To help Tom's spiritual growth, God used a cheap computer Dave and I bought Tom. Through it, Tom signed up at Match.com and found a lovely woman named Nancy. She's a nurse who counsels families on "end-of-life" issues (coincidence? Me thinketh not), but best of all, she's a Christian who longs to see Tom turn to Christ. She's one blessing to show how God will always give us someone or something to turn to in difficult times. He knows we can't go it alone. As the cancer progresses, so does Tom's spiritual journey. He goes to church as often as he can, prays with others, studies a paraphrased Bible, and devours every devotional Nancy gives him. God has answered my prayer that he won't leave Tom behind. He's using the cancer to both accomplish that, and to show the rest of us what he can do. So even if in the end Tom's body succumbs to the disease, he's saved my dad's soul. But there's more! When we went to visit him at the end of February, we arrived at our hotel early afternoon. As I was picking up more stuff from the car, I spotted my sister and her husband walking toward me. What I didn't expect to see was an older man following them. It took me a moment to realize it was Tom walking on his own with no cane and no oxygen. The thrill that came over me is indescribable. Two weeks ago, they gave him a PET scan to see if the chemo is working. The scan showed no growth of the tumors, and even some shrinkage. His lungs are clear of any clots, and he can now drive on his own, walk his dogs, and even go without oxygen for an hour or two. His biggest day-to-day hurtle is eating. An unfortunate side effect of pancreatic cancer is food tastes terrible. Tom describes it as "licking a dirty carpet." Most foods smell and even look good to him, but after one bite the taste makes him want to puke. In essence, with pancreatic cancer a person starves to death. Since he's been diagnosed, he's lost about 35 pounds. That's nearly 10 pounds a month. Still, to see his quality of life go up, his attitude improving, and his spiritual health growing even more, I can only express joy and gratitude to the God who's orchestrating it all. |
| In fact, I despise sympathy. Oh, I can give it well enough, but accepting it from others makes my skin crawl. I discovered this only a few weeks ago, and it took me a while to figure out why. But first, a little back-story to give it proper context. The day after Christmas we receive a phone call from my dad. He was in the hospital because of spots on his lungs that turned out to be pulmonary embolisms: blood clots. They put him on blood thinners which they hoped would take care of them, but after a few more tests, they found a malignant tumor on his pancreas. Inoperable. He was given a year to live at most. His biggest concern was not being able to continue to watch over his daughters and see his grandson grow up. My anger – and grief -- over the entire situation dealt with losing the one person I believed would live until his 90s, easy, and also my son growing up not knowing his grandfather. I'm still a bit angry about that, but it is what it is. All any of us can do is live today, because none of us is guaranteed tomorrow. Tom – my dad – expressed during that conversation that he would not ever again see his grandson. I told him we would go see him as often as we could. Since then we've gone to see him twice. The first trip was rough, because he spent three of those five days in the hospital. He also lost quite a bit of weight and seemed to have aged ten years. To see such a vibrant man fade so quickly was almost unreal. When he came home, he could barely walk on his own, was on oxygen full-time, and could barely stay awake. Two days after we returned home, they discovered his liver wasn't functioning. They returned him to the hospital for surgery to remove what they thought was a tumor or nodule blocking blood flow into the liver. It wasn't blocked. Turns out his liver wasn't functioning because it's riddled with tumors. They closed him up and as they were bringing him out of the anaesthesia, he suddenly couldn't breath. They put him under again, and removed a blood clot from his lungs. For safety, they put him in a coma for 24 hours. Was he pissed when they brought him out and he had lost an entire day! Understandable. Here his days are already numbered, and the doctors took away one. If they hadn't, or the clot was thrown when he was at home or driving down the street, he would have died. When we returned from that trip, I called my mom to let her know what was going on. She asked me how I was doing with all this. I responded with, "I'm fine." Which I was, honestly. I deal with big stuff like this in an odd way. I close off my emotions and deal with what needs to be done when it needs to be done. Besides, he's not dead yet. It makes me appear cold at times, and I can't help but wonder if I am that cold. Truth is, it's a defense mechanism. I don't like to appear weak or overly-emotional to other people. Intellectually, I know it's not weakness to cry, especially over a loved one who's suffering from a terminal illness. But it's now an automatic reaction I've cultivated since my teenage years. Hence my anger at my mom when she asked how I was doing. It's also not about me. I'm not the one who's dying. Save the sympathy for him. I'll deal with grief when we bury him – or in this case, spread his ashes. Until then, I want him to live as best as he can with the time he has left. We returned from a second trip last weekend, and I was shocked to see him arrive at our motel with my sister and her husband. He not only walked without a cane or walker, but he didn't need oxygen. He's taking chemotherapy which will give him maybe an extra month, but from what the doctor's saying, it'll be quality time gained. Seeing him like that showed me it's indeed working. One of the biggest problems we're facing at the moment is convincing him he has to eat. One of the symptoms of his cancer is food tastes terrible. He describes it as licking the carpet. The other symptom is depression. Talk about a two-fer. His attitude is key in increasing the quality of his days. But with the depression, he can't see all the positive strides he's made, and count his many blessings, however small they may be. Which is why we'll be going back sometime in March. Seeing his children and his only grandchild I know is a huge boon to his attitude. I will likely write about this more here. There are times I need to vent. This blog is perfect because there are no family members who know of it. But don't worry, it won't be all dark and dismal thoughts. So no sympathy here, unless it's to pray for my dad. Save the sympathy until the day he dies. I want to concentrate on living. |
| I wish I had one. A really good one, that is. One blog I frequent is "Writer Beware," and the latest entry touches on how not to use social media. She went on to add a link to another blog that describe further how not to use it which led to a third talking about how to set up an internet presence that people will gravitate to. The three links are here: Writer Beware Tidbits  by Victoria StraussWhen (or Why) Social Media Fails to Sell Books by Jane FriedmanThe secret ingredient to a strong author platform by Justine Lee Musk.I admit I haven't used my Internet presence to it's fullest. I've specifically tried to avoid selling anything, but I also haven't participated like I should. That includes interacting with all my friends and contacts on sites such as Facebook and Twitter. When I do go there, it's usually to add a link to my blog. That's not a real benefit to anyone, because it's not interaction. So I think for the next few weeks I will sit down (something I do well, and too much of), and come up with a strategy for marketing in general. Not to sell so much as to socialize, and to give something to my readers that they can use. What does that have to do with a Christmas story? It's your story I'm interested in. What was your favorite Christmas? Why? |
| Day three written September 21 Waiting more than two days to write this entry, I'm afraid it'll be short with regard to the continuing education classes. Plus my appointment with Steve Laube started at 10am, so my mind was mostly focused on that. My expectations were low as far as he asking to represent me. Mostly I wanted his perspective on my first chapter. When I first sat down, I introduced myself and he asked, “So what do you have for me?” “It's science fiction,” where he gave me a look that said, “Oh.” “Yeah, I know,” I said, “I chose a hard sell.” Steve nodded. “Actually, I queried you a few years ago, but you rejected my story. You said that while the premise was good, the writing was a B. Since then, I had a few editors look it over and, “I held up my name tag that showed my Finalist ribbon, “since I finaled in the Genesis contest –” “Congratulations,” Steve said. “Thank you. Anyway, I was hoping you'd be willing to give it a second look.” “Sure. Do you have a synopsis?” As I handed it and my first chapter over I thought, “I was afraid you'd ask for it.” Based on what I learned Friday and Saturday, my one-sheet was not that great. As he read it we somehow got on the subject of the Kindle, which he had sitting on the table. He picked it up and said, “Check it out.” So I played with his kindle while he read my first chapter. I looked over to see what page he was on and I said, “Oh, man!” “What.” I reached over and pointed at the end of a paragraph on the second page. “I forgot a period right there.” He gave me a sideways glance and said, “You shouldn't have said anything. I was already passed that part and I didn't even notice it. Now it's this glaring empty spot driving us both nuts.” He took out his pen and placed a period. “There, now we're both happy and can move on.” Steve read all seven pages in less that two minutes. Quite the speed reader. He said the first part where I'm in the mind of a character who dies doesn't have enough punch. “I want you to terrify me,” Steve said. “This doesn't terrify me. I want you to make the reader feel like he's drowning like the character. You can also move it to a prologue, because even if a reader skips over that part, it's okay. When you switched into the mind of the assassin, that's where I felt the story really began.” He gave me a few other pointers that I know will make the story really pop and hopefully grab the reader from word one. All in all, a very positive interview even if he didn't offer to represent me. He gave me excellent advice, and that's more than worth the 15 minutes. The next class I took was taught by Jeff Gerke, the publisher of Marcher Lord Press and the editor I met with on Saturday. His was entitled “The Last Show and Tell Class You'll Ever Need.” In short, because this entry is getting long, writers need to think in terms of cinematography. If a camera can't see it (interior monologue excluded), then it's telling. Backstory is telling, as is exposition and explanation of character motives. There are times when it’s necessary, but it’s making sure to add it at the moment the reader needs the information, and not before or after. Description is not telling, because the camera can see it. He was fun, because he required lots of audience participation. As tired as I was, his energy was contagious. I know, telling, but this is my blog and I can do whatever I want. So there. I took two other workshops (tired yet), on how to keep track of details in the book such as the passage of time, character description, and weather, especially when it comes to historicals. Invariably, if a writer talks about the full moon on May 25, 1956, a reader will write to complain that it was actually a half-moon. Makes me glad I write futuristic fiction! The last class was on author law and what to look for in publisher and agent contracts. The last workshop ended at 5pm which gave us one and a half hours to prepare for the annual awards banquet. The Genesis awards were only part of the ceremony. There was also a life-time achievement award, and the Carol Awards. The Carol award is for the book of the year in multiple genres. I spent the first hour reading, knowing I needed only a few minutes to get ready. Once dressed I felt compelled to practice my speech once again. I wrote it down from memory of previous practices a week ago and used my stopwatch to make sure it was under 30 seconds. Three minor rewrites later, I got it down to 29 seconds. Supper came first where I chatted with those at my table. The ceremony began about an hour later, and another hour later the speculative fiction category came up. When Camy Tang said my name as the winner, I mouthed, “Oh my God.” The entire room seemed to disappear, and all the voices and other sounds turned into pure white noise. Odd sensation. I stood with speech in hand and weeded my way around all the tables to the stage. Whispered “Congratulations,” followed me all the way up. The entire time I kept saying to myself, “Don't cry. Don't cry.' The speech went well. 30 seconds isn't enough time to make a total fool of myself. The audience even laughed at the right time. I was given a plaque with my name and the title of my book, and a lapel pin. With tears under control, and elated beyond description, I weeded my way back to my table. Whispered congratulations followed me back. Two minutes later I received an email from a friend expressing her congratulations. “What?” I thought. “She's not even here.” Then I realized the banquet was live-streaming over the internet. Ten minutes later I received another congratulations via facebook email. So much for keeping it a secret. The other awards were given with lots of applause laugher and tears. Thoroughly enjoyable, but I was glad when it ended. I was beyond exhausted. After I called Dave to tell him I won, I went straight to bed and hoped to sleep in. There was nothing planned for Monday except an informal breakfast that consisted of fruit and pastries. Since my flight didn't leave until 3:45, I hung out in the lobby and talked to others about the conference and exchanged business cards. Over the next few days, I'll be spending time sending emails to everyone I met. It'll include sending thank you cards to both Jeff Gerke and Steve Laube for their time and advice. After that, I have some writing to do. |
| Day two written September 18: As to be expected, today was the day to be a sponge, to listen, learn and take lots of notes. This will end up sounding choppy, but that's because I'm exhausted, and I want to get this written as soon as possible before my face hits the pillow. I also don't want to wait, because it's still all fresh in my mind. My first class was the twelve crucial questions to ask of your novel. Questions such as (I won't list them all): 1.Why am I writing this story? 2.What is my main character's personality type and how does it conflict with the antagonist and/or romantic lead? 3.Am I sustaining the tension? 4.Am I letting my good guys off too easily? 5.Does my vocabulary scream genre (is it a bad thing, I wonder. I say in fantasy or even sci-fi, it's not. In other genres the opposite is probably true). 6.What would my lead never do? Good questions, and they make me want to comb through my manuscript to see if I can answer them all satisfactorily. The next class was titled “Selling Your Stuff.” The presenters discussed how to write the perfect pitch. I missed most of this, because I had my appointment with Jeff Gerke, the owner and editor for Marcher Lord Press. Jeff knew me already, because I've corresponded with him on a variety of subjects and participate frequently on his Anomaly forum. He was also the judge in the speculative fiction category in the Genesis Contest. I mentioned this and he asked to see the first chapter. He knew right away which one it was, and asked me to send him the entire manuscript. That was in the first two minutes. So we talked about our kids and I asked him about the books he's releasing in October. One especially sounds really interesting. The next workshop was called “Finding Your Voice.” I enjoyed this one a lot. She gave advice on how to refine our voice by forgetting all externals such as market/publisher guidelines and just write. She also asked, “Why did you start writing to begin with?” I won't answer that here, because it's too lengthy. She highlighted a few things that cause the “Death of Voice” (more externals): 1.Instruction 2.Correction 3.Education 4.Critiques 5.Contests 6.Editing 7.Writing for Publication I may highlight specifics of each, again later. One important suggestion is to always read aloud. Where I stumble, I need to rewrite until it flows off the tongue. Although readers may be interested in the story, they are also interested in the storyteller. They want to read a book an not only envision the story, but to envision the author telling it to them. During the afternoon general session, Tim Downs again spoke. He described how easy it was to bring people to Christ in the 60-70s, but now groups such as Campus Crusaders and Billy Graham Crusade are seeing dwindling numbers. Why? Because there is a time to harvest, and a time to plant, water and pull weeds. The 60s and 70s was a harvest season, and today we're in a sowing season. Because of that we need to change our strategy. We can't harvest when there's no crops. Part of that is telling stories in a way that engages the heart and the mind without the sermon. We must, as Tim put it, “Bury the egg of the message so the reader can hunt for it.” He used the analogy of the Easter hunt for kids. The joy comes in searching for the eggs, not having those who hid them pointed out to us. The problem with writers (me included) is we don't trust the power of the story. Christian writers especially feel the need to put those eggs of our message in plain sight. To the reader, however, it takes away the fun, and it can sometimes come across as preaching. As Tim said, “A lecture confronts, a story disarms.” Lots to think about there. Okay, I'm done. Tomorrow will be yet another busy and stressful day. I'm meeting with literary agent Steve Laube, and we will find out who won in the Genesis contest. |
| NOTE: I wasn’t willing to pay $10/day for internet at the hotel, so I wrote my entries in a word processor to be uploaded later. This is what I wrote Friday, September 17: Airplanes more often than not offer an opportunity to meet new people. It's especially nice when the person you end up sitting with is in the mood to chat. My seat-mate was a young lady named Kathleen. She's one of the directors for the new sister college to Bismarck's University of Mary being set up in Rome. She's taking Rome's directors (a priest and two nuns) on a tour, first of North Dakota and Washington D.C. She also gave me the opportunity to pitch my novel. I was able to describe it in a few sentences, and she seemed pretty excited about it. Even though science fiction is not her chosen genre. Kathleen did, however, express interest in buying my book once it's published so she could give it as a gift to her mom who loves science fiction. Did I just make my first sale? Either way, I gave her my card. I hope she emails me, because her story is an interesting one. Come September 28th of this year she'll be living in Rome most of the year to set up the new college. It'd be nice to “see” Rome through someone else's eyes since I doubt I'll ever see it myself. Her brother is also a writer, although his chosen genre is historical fiction, specifically North and South Dakota history. He and their father are putting together a documentary about the politics of global warming, how it's driving most of the fear and “need to go green,” and not necessarily hard scientific facts. It should be out next summer, so I'm going to keep an eye out for it. They plan on submitting it to the yearly Fargo Independent Film festival. Talking to her made the flight – pardon the pun – fly by. The hour and 15 minute flight seemed more like 15 minutes. The best part is when she promised to pray for me at the conference. Wasn't that sweet? I will also do the same, because she has a lot of work ahead of her. She and the other directors are the pioneers in setting up a new school in a foreign country, so they can only guess at the obstacles awaiting them. But it's also exciting, and I'm sure it will be quite rewarding. The flight to Indianapolis ended up a stark contrast to the first plane. No one sat next to me. In fact it was the only empty seat on the plane. As my husband surmised, my deodorant had given out by then. Finding the bus stop was a simple matter, but what should have been a quick fifteen minute ride ended up almost an hour. The first driver stopped not one block from the hotel and waited for her relief driver. He never showed, so ten minutes later we continued on. After a few more blocks and another stop the other driver took over. Again we went around and around, this time because he was new and didn't know his way around. Three others who also are attending the conference and I decided about two blocks from the hotel to be dropped off right there. Heck, we might still be on that bus if we hadn't said something. Because the bus ride took so long, we ended up missing the first timer's orientation. Oh well, the amount of information given in our packets was enough for me. And most conferences are similar, so I knew what to expect over all. I grabbed my packet which included a nice shoulder bag, conference brochure and name tag with two ribbons, that say “First Timer” and “Finalist” (for the Genesis contest). I then went to a different table to find out which editor and agent I will meet with along with the time for each. Turns out, I got both my first choices! Woohoo! Next came the opening session where we were given more information. There was also worship where the song leader kept us standing way too long through six songs. I kept thinking, “come on, most people here are older and can't stand for too long. Give us a break.” As much as I love to sing and worship, I was glad when it was over. Author Tim Downs gave the keynote address where he talked about how much of the Old Testament is in story form. And in the New Testament, Jesus preached by way of parables – he told stories. Tim's overall point (when we weren't laughing ourselves to tears with some of the stories he told), was that people respond better to a story – fiction – than a lecture. Our responsibilities as writers is not only to entertain, but to encourage people to think and draw them closer to Christ. When supper time rolled around I said, “God, you choose the chair for me to sit at.” When I felt the draw to a particular seat in an empty table, I promptly sat my patootie down. After a few minutes when people kept passing my table by, I wondered if my deodorant indeed died on me. But no, I just needed to be a little patient. The table filled up, and we all introduced ourselves. Guess who ended up at my table? Steve Laube, the agent I wanted to, and will be meeting with. I didn't tell him that, though. I played silent (mostly) sponge and listened to him give advice on how to pitch our stories to agents/editors. That's not to say I'll walk away with a contract or even any interest by the time it's all said and done. I learned a lot in that one hour, and that's what counts. Perhaps I won't be nearly as nervous once I meet with him. Will keep you apprised. Right now, I'm sleepy. I've been up since 4:15am and it's time for bed. Tomorrow will be another busy day. |
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