Why I Write Stories of Reconciliation

If you've read my posts or any of my women's fiction, you know I write stories about second chances in marriage--about broken couples who defy the odds and find their way back to each other. You might wonder, is she blind to divorce rates? Unfeeling toward people on their second or third marriages? Is she living in some kind of fantasy world to imagine relationships can recover from horrible rifts, and even the worst crime against marriage--infidelity?

When put that way, it seems like a ridiculous impossibility, doesn't it?

The truth is, before my tenth birthday, my parents divorced. I have relatives who have divorced and married someone else and seem quite happy. And even though Jason and I agreed early on not to mention the "D" word, at a couple of dividing lines in our relationship, we considered separating.

I'm not foolish enough to believe all marriages should be reconciled. If violence is involved, run, flee! Even as a child, I never wished for my parents to get back together.

So why do I write stories of second chances? First, I love reading them. Two of my favorite reconciliation books are Francine Rivers' And the Shofar Blew and Karen Kingsbury's A Time to Dance. I've read both of these inspirational books many times. Second, through telling the married fictional tales of Winter and Ty, April and Chad, Summer and Josh, and now, Autumn and Gar, I get to relive the wonder of a husband and wife falling in love with each other all over again. Bits and pieces of these couples' lives do come from my heart. The saying about writers bleeding into their work is true. Are the books autobiographical? No. But here and there, real life seeps in. The other reason I love reconciliation stories is that I believe in God's amazing power to transform and change couples in such a way that they can let go of their pride, their hurts, and their right to hate or act in revenge. That Jesus can soften a husband's and a wife's spirits to such a degree that they melt before the other one is powerful and life changing.

While I won't go into details of how Jason and I ended up in a bad situation, when we came to the point of deciding whether or not to split, we chose to stick together, instead. One day I turned on the audio of our wedding and asked Jason to listen with me. As I cried and listened to our young selves pledging the words "til death do us part" something gripped me. I had made a lifelong promise to my husband. I still wanted to be married to him. I was willing to fight for and do whatever it took to change, to be humble, to make a marked turnaround. We could only do that and have the testimony we do--we've been married 40 years--because of God's grace and power. He changed us. He made us whole. He brought true love back to our hearts and our home.

That's what I want to write about.

Unfaithful Blogger

In 2015, I was an unfaithful blogger. 
There, I said it. Facing our flaws is half the battle, right?

Two things kept me from sharing. Limited time--I was determined to finish my book. And I felt I had nothing to offer.

It's not that I'm empty-headed--although, maybe I am--or that I don't have an opinion. Because I do! I just felt lacking. There are times as a mom I wished I were like June Cleaver or Dr. Quinn or Maria in the Sound of Music, women who had amazing gifts of wisdom to speak the exact words at the perfect moment. Oh, that's right, they had great writers! But, regardless, when I sit down to create a blog, I want to be like them. Or like one of those bloggers who spin amazing works three times a week and dazzle us with their introspection on life or faith or marriage.

Then, there's me. I sit down and stare at a blank screen and wonder what in the world I have to give.

I'm a dabbler in fiction. If you've read any of my stories, you've peeked into my heart. Without meaning to, I've revealed parts of me which under normal circumstances I would never share. By the way, if you've ever wondered which of my characters is most like me, it would be April Gray, before the editor got a hold of her.

Like most writers, I internalize way more than I should. I grew up with secrets. I like my privacy. Becoming open and vulnerable is foreign, unless I'm sitting across the table from someone drinking coffee and we just start sharing. I can actually say that now, because 21 days ago I started drinking coffee.

I'd like to say I have it all together. Surprise, I don't. I have dreams of having it all together. You know those moments when you see yourself as a perfectly put together wife, mom, writer, house cleaner, and servant of God? Yeah, about that . . .

In the real world, I work at and enjoy my marriage. Jason and I are good friends, and we're learning how to have fun in our post-raising-kids years. I still try to be a good mom, but the rules have changed. I have four adult kids and one daughter-in-law, now. When your kids are little, the world revolves around their needs and activities, and being a mom felt like my whole world. Then they grew up--as well, they should--and that process can leave moms and dads floundering. I'm a parent, and yet I'm not. It's a tiptoe act, but I'm getting better at it. Every day, I work at writing, whether it's at the keyboard or letting the characters come to life in my mind. I've never been a great housekeeper, but, oh well. I don't really aspire to that. Sorry, Jason. In 2015, I began learning more about God as my loving "Papa." In that capacity He is changing me, and that's a journey in itself.

My goal for 2016 is to become more vulnerable and open. I write the kinds of stories that I do for a reason, but I doubt I will ever be as tell-all as some writers. Most likely, my husband, kids, and brothers will thank me for that. But little by little, I hope to share more from my heart.

I may not have anything profound to say, but the truth is, we all live in a messy world. No one is perfect. We must all face our pasts and work through messy situations and relationships in the present. The beauty is that God can take all of that and transform us--day by day, sometimes, minute by minute--into who He wants. I'm on that journey. As are you.

A new year helps me reflect and look forward. I'm hoping to be more honest in my blogging and living in 2016.

Writer's Life: Deadline Doubts

A deadline makes you work faster and crazier than ever. It adds stress and clarity to your job. And, it's exciting. You only have so many days, hours, or minutes to accomplish a thing, sort of a race against time. A real deadline keeps you on your toes, possibly till the last minute.

That's where I was at Friday night.

Could I finish everything? I still had many hours of work ahead of me. But being stubborn by nature, I knew I could do it if I stuck to the plan. I had to!

My deadline was November 1^st. With twelve beta readers waiting to test April's Storm, (due to release in January) I needed to finish the editing I'd been working on and format it into e-book so I could send it out to them. For two weeks, I'd been staying up till one-ish in the morning, burning the proverbial midnight oil, working through edits, pushing myself. Getting up and starting at it again, day after day.

On that last night, October 31^st, I determined to push through, no matter what it took. I'd hardly eaten. I forgot the 20/20/20 rule the optometrist told me to follow—every twenty minutes look at something twenty feet away for twenty seconds. Instead, I stared at the computer hour after grueling hour. Maybe, next time, I'll follow his rule, but that day, nothing was going to hinder me. I was fighting deadline doubts and was determined to overcome.

Feeling the fires of adrenaline as I neared the finish line, I kept working. Formatting never turns out as cleanly as I'd like it to the first time, so I had fixings and re-uploads to accomplish. But, finally, at two in the morning, I'd finished almost everything I'd planned to do. Only sending the files remained. Something I could do when I woke up. Thinking I should get some sleep, or be super cranky the next day, I lay down to rest. But my eyes refused to stay closed. My mind whirred with that one last thing I should have done. Why didn't I just send those files? How could I sleep with such a big accomplishment—I've been working on this book for a year—hanging over my head? I couldn't. So . . . I hopped up, threw my sweatshirt back on, hobbled in the dark to my computer, and sent those large files one by one via email (over my very slow internet server.) But it was thrilling! Other than the editor and my critique partner, people were finally going to read my entire story.

I went back to bed at 3:30, exhausted, but happy.

Following five hours of sleep, I got up and felt a little blurry all day. But I was delirious with joy for having reached my goal. In a couple of months, I'll be right back there again, fighting the giant of doubt as I tackle formatting and publishing issues. But for now, I can cheer and pat myself on the back, and thank God for His help. I tackled a deadline and won!

Yippeeeeeeeee!