Confessions of a Squeamish Horror Writer

Happy Wednesday, y’all! You want to talk about horror? Let’s talk about the snow outside when Spring is less than a week away! Where was that snow a month or 2 ago when I wanted it to be here? Now I’m ready for the flowers and the warmer weather. (Warm, not hot.)

This week, we’re continuing the Confessions series with an interesting post from a horror writer … who doesn’t like zombies. Frankly, I’m with him on this. Most of the time. Well, you’ll have to read on to see what I mean … Welcome, Randall Allen Dunn!

 

Confessions of a Squeamish Horror Writer

by Randall Allen Dunn

 

I hate zombies.

They’re just so gross.

Don’t get me wrong. As a writer, I like the idea of a bunch of monsters attacking innocent people, some of whom then gear up to destroy the monsters in a mass bid for survival. I just wish the monsters weren’t a gang of dead whatsits crawling from the grave, eyeballs hanging out, hungering for people’s brains while half their limbs fall off.

Seriously, how disgusting do they need to be?

It might not surprise anyone that I hate zombies. Until they discover that I’ve written my own version of a zombie story, in which werewolves attack people in a fairy tale province. Or until I mention that I love horror stories. That’s when people might ask, “How can you love horror, but hate all the gross things that come with it? And aren’t you supposed to be a Christian?”

Yes, to all those things. Love Jesus, love horror. Hate zombies.

It only makes sense when you discover, as I did, how to recognize a horror story.

 

What is a Horror Story?

In high school, I was cast in the play, Dracula. The vampire story concept fascinated me. A handful of people try to defeat a demonic beast, when they need an army to even survive. But since no one will believe them about the threat, they must fight the vampires on their own.

Which makes them desperate. So desperate they’ll do things they might never do, or imagine themselves doing, under any other circumstances. To defeat a vampire and save humanity, these heroes would steal a car, tell lies, travel great distances in the most severe weather or darkness. Even dig up someone’s grave to chop off their head.

That’s commitment. Blechhh.

The point is the threat of that horror – whether it’s a vampire, ghost, demon, savage animal, or even psychotic killer – reveals the true nature of those heroes. This, to me, is the core of horror and the reason it appeals to me. Horror reveals a person’s character better than any other genre.

Take an example from the film, Jurassic Park. (Yes, Jurassic Park is mainly a science-fiction story, but it’s also a horror story like Jaws, Alien, or Dracula, in which people must fight to survive against a monster that cannot be reasoned with.) When the T-Rex first attacks, the lawyer flees his car, leaving the children unprotected to save himself. Dr. Grant, having clearly established how much he loathes all children, leaves the safety of his car to distract the T-Rex and rescue them. The horror of the T-Rex forced both Dr. Grant and the lawyer to discover their true nature, as a coward or as a fatherly hero.

A horror story is similar to a suspense thriller, except that the threat can only be dealt with in limited ways. The enemy of a suspense thriller is usually a human or an organization that threatens the protagonist. That person or group can be persuaded to relent or can be imprisoned. These same methods won’t stop a horror story threat. Even when the threat is human, like the deadly killer in Halloween, no one would feel safe if this “monster” were simply jailed.

 

Horror Endings

There are only three ways a horror story can end. Either a.) the monster is destroyed, as in Dracula or Jaws, b.) the heroes permanently escape from the monster, as in Poltergeist or the film version of Jurassic Park, or c.) the monster wins.

The reason many people – especially those of us who love Jesus – can’t stand horror stories is because the only horror stories we know about are the third version. The one that Hollywood filmmakers often choose. Why do filmmakers want horror stories in which the monster wins? Because if Dracula or Freddie Kruger survives, they can continue to star in several money-making sequels. That’s why.

But this third option isn’t always bad. Several cautionary tales like those in The Twilight Zone have sad endings in which the supernatural phenomenon – the horror “monster” –destroys the protagonist. Yet the best of these stories still reveal the character’s true nature, exposing flaws that result in that person’s destruction. (For those who don’t know, a few minutes after fleeing the T-Rex in Jurassic Park, the lawyer gets eaten. Abandoning the kids was a bad moral choice.)

As for me, I don’t usually want the monster to win. Which is one of the reasons I don’t like most popular horror movies. In classic horror films like Dracula, the monster is vanquished. When evil wins instead, it sends an uncomfortable message. (Made even less comfortable by gross effects and falling zombie limbs.) In cautionary tales, we see a protagonist who makes bad moral choices get their comeuppance, showing that a supernatural justice is served, even though it is often severe.

Horror deals with the worst threats we can face. Seeing characters deal with these threats shows us what they’re made of, and what we ourselves can choose to become. Even when evil wins because of a protagonist’s poor choices, we know that that person could have chosen differently and saved themselves. Even in a tragic ending, we know there’s always a chance for good to overcome evil.

That chance – and that choice – is what makes horror such a valuable genre to me.

So if I tell you I love horror, don’t show me blood or gore or falling limbs. Show me a story that reveals a character’s true nature, lurking beneath the surface. Show me whether, in the face of the most severe challenges, they become a hero or a human form of monster.

I would love to read a story like that.

 

(Want to keep up with the Confessions posts? Be sure to sign up for my newsletter!)

 

About the Author:

Randall Allen Dunn, ThrillerWriter, writes action thrillers that read like blockbuster movies. You can find his books online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other booksellers. You can also follow him on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Goodreads, and YouTube, and follow his Packing Action blog at www.RandallAllenDunn.com.

 

Social Media links (Facebook, Twitter, website, Amazon page, etc.):

Facebook: www.facebook.com/RandallAllenDunn/

Twitter: twitter.com/randalladunn

Amazon: www.amazon.com/Randall-Allen-Dunn/e/B009BQGC6U

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/randalladunn/

Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/6591907.Randall_Allen_Dunn

YouTube: www.youtube.com/channel/UCZGeMw_uI69dXkF6mBYTHMw

Packing Action blog: www.randallallendunn.com/

 

Confessions of a Falling Father

Welcome to my blog in 2018 and the continuation of the Confessions series. You’ll be seeing some changes around the blog in general in the coming months, but I so love the Confessions posts that those will keep coming! I hope you get as much out of them as I do.

Due to life stuff, which I won’t go into right now, I was unable to get Confessions posts up in January and February, although I had super posts from people. For the next few weeks, I’ll be doubling up on the Confessions posts in order to “catch up” and share the wisdom from these wonderful people. 

First up, a good friend and amazing father, Chris Morris …

 

Confessions of a Falling Father 

 

Hi, I’m Chris Morris and I have seizures.

Wait, maybe that’s the wrong type of confession. No, let’s go with it—let’s just start with the brutal truth. For about the last 5 years, I have averaged 2-4 seizures every day of my life. As a result of this, a number of unusual things are now a part of my normal:

  • I don’t drive. Loss of consciousness while driving is generally frowned upon.
  • I try to avoid stairs. Falling up or down them is not exciting.
  • I run my own business now, because I have to. My previous employer and I agreed that I am not very employable right now.
  • A swimming pool is a terrifying place to have a seizure, so I rarely swim even though we have a pool in the backyard.

I don’t mean to sound whiny, and I’m not complaining. I am giving you the warp and woof of my days so you can understand the depths from which I’m speaking about my life.

Most weeks, I fall to the ground at least once during a seizure. When I have seizures, my body often goes limp. If I am standing, this means I fall to the ground. So it’s up to my 5’2” wife and my three teenage kids to figure out how to catch me. Or deal with the guilt of not catching me (which is far worse for all of us).

Because I am a falling father.

 

Falling vs. Failing

And if I’m honest, it kills me every time I wake up and see them looking down at me. I have to battle the lie that says that they are looking down on me and thinking less of me. I have to almost forcibly tell myself every time that being a falling father doesn’t make me a failing father.

I used to lose that battle for my mind almost every day. Culture and Scripture tell me that my job as a dude is to be the protector of my family. That I am called by God to rise up and keep them safe. Instead, almost every single day, they have to protect me.

So the thoughts fly fast and furious in my head:

What kind of man are you when you can’t even keep yourself safe, much less your family? How can you expect to ever amount to anything? You’re a loser, a wimp, a coward. You just plain suck!

These whispers can overwhelm if I let them.

 

Dealing in Truths

Nowadays, I am getting better at fighting back. The anti-depressants really help, but even more powerful are a couple truths I’ve grabbed hold of lately.

I am not defined by any diagnosis. Yes, I have a diagnosis of psychogenic nonepileptic seizures, and it’s true that a lot of doctors don’t even know what this diagnosis is or how to treat it. But, this is only a part of who I am—not the totality of my identity. The core of my identity is found in my faith in Christ. I am a child of God, even if I’m a falling, sometimes failing, child. He doesn’t love me less because I am ill.

My family is for me, no matter what. I have learned to be okay with shedding the façade of American masculinity that tells me I have to be strong and have it all together. My wife and my kids want to know what’s happening in my life and heart. The more I am able to let them in, the stronger our family is. In other words, I am not the only source of strength in this household.

I don’t pretend to understand the bigger questions about my health condition. I don’t know the source of my seizures, even though I haven’t given up hope in finding that out. I don’t know exactly how God fits into all of this, but I take it by faith that He is good, every day, all the time—even when He seems absent.

Instead, I hold tight to what I do know. I know that I am a beloved child of God, through and through. And I know that no seizure will cause my family to abandon me or tire of me. Most days, that’s enough.

 

About the Author

Chris Morris writes about the juxtaposition of faith and chronic illnesses on his site chrismorriswrites.com and conducts interviews with others in the chronic illness community. He is also the founder of Llama Publishing, a micropress that intends to influence the world of Christian thought with books that challenges the status quo.

 

Confessions of a Biker Chick

by Virginia Smith

 

I’ve had many goals over the years, a lot of items on my bucket list. I wanted to learn to scuba dive. (Check.) I wanted to publish a novel. (Check.) I wanted to travel to other countries. (Check.) Riding motorcycles was not on my list. I’m not particularly coordinated, so why would I want to fly down the road at high speeds balancing on two wheels, vulnerable to traffic and exposed to weather?

Then I married a motorcycle enthusiast. If I wanted to spend time with him, I had to ride. And guess what? The very first time I climbed onto the back of his bike and wrapped my arms around his waist I became a dyed-in-the-wool Biker Chick. What freedom! What fun! I could take pictures, plot books, sing at the top of my lungs, and spread my arms wide to the wind and embrace the world. A few years ago I decided I wanted my own motorcycle, so I bought one and named her Kelly. Which leads me to my first Confession.

Confession #1: I am a control freak.

Though I love riding with my husband, I want to be in charge. I love the challenge of seeing a sharp curve up ahead, of leaning the bike into the curve, slowly pulling the throttle to gain speed as O reach the apex, and zooming out to the straightaway. Though I do still sing (and often pray!), I can’t spend brain-power plotting stories or gazing at the scenery because…I’m in control! And that’s the way I like it.

Confession #2: I like speed.

Only a biker can fully understand why dogs hang their heads out the window. The sensation of wind as you zoom down the road is a rush you can’t get in a car. But it isn’t only the speed that’s appealing. From a car you see your surroundings; on a motorcycle, you experience them. The scent of pine trees as you ride through a forest, the feel of the cool breeze blowing across a mountain lake, the warmth of the sun and the chill of the shadows. Nature is closer, more intimate when nothing separates you.

That isn’t always a good thing. A spray of rocks on the road takes on a whole new meaning when you’re zooming along at 50 mpg with nothing between you and the pavement but couple of tires made of a half-inch of rubber. Driving through a herd of buffalo in Yellowstone National Park is pretty cool in a car; on a bike it becomes a heart-pounding encounter. Seeing a doe and her fawn on the side of the road is exhilarating, but on a bike you know at any time she might dash into your path. You have to be super-aware of your surroundings and constantly alert. So yeah, there’s the thrill of conquering potential dangers too. I guess that makes me a thrill-seeker.

Confession #3: I like the clothes.

My helmet is covered in flowers and butterflies. My riding jacket is purple Kevlar with pads in all the critical places. My boots are leather and super-stylish, as are my gloves and chaps. I have a Harley Davidson black leather vest. And under all the protective gear I get to wear bling! Biker chick clothing usually displays elaborate designs and is often covered with rhinestones and glitter. And you don’t have to be shaped like a Barbie doll to wear it. Lady bikers love to show off their clothing, and nobody cares if you fill yours out more than somebody else.

Confession #4: I like to belong.

Motorcycle riders belong to a brotherhood (I use the term inclusive of both genders). There’s even a secret hand signal! Okay, not so secret, but we do have a sign we give each other. I call it The Wave. It isn’t a normal wave, with your arm over your head shaking your hand back and forth. Oh, no, it’s much cooler than that. When a motorcycle approaches in the oncoming lane, each biker drops his or her left hand, fingers loose, with two extended like a relaxed peace sign. The other fingers are also loose, not tightened into a fist. The arm is not stiff or extended too far, just kind of swung out from the side a bit. The gesture is laid back. Relaxed. Casual. Unperturbed.  Very cool, ‘cause bikers are cool.

This brotherhood became real to me three years ago when I went to the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally in South Dakota. I was a passenger on my husband’s bike and we were leaving Buffalo Chip, which is a huge campground packed with more than a hundred thousand motorcycles each day during the rally. It was late at night and pitch dark, and we inched along in a line of a gazillion motorcycles heading back to their hotels. The road consisted of packed dirt. We came to a stop. My husband put his foot down to balance us, and stepped into a rut he couldn’t see. The motorcycle tipped, and as we fell, I thrust my arm out to brace myself. Mistake. I broke my shoulder badly. I laid there on the ground in terrible pain while our friends called an ambulance. Traffic stopped, of course. At first people were irritated, and I could hear horns honking in the distance—until they realized a biker was down. The next thing I knew motorcycles circled me, their headlights shining on me so my friends could see to help me. Other bikes created a lighted path for the ambulance to navigate the dark campground roads to find me. When the paramedics arrived they had no trouble seeing. The place was as bright as day from the motorcycle headlights.

Do you know why they helped? Because I’m a biker. I’m part of their family. I love knowing I belong to this amazing community.

Motorcycles do show up in my books occasionally. A Deadly Game ends with a suspenseful motorcycle chase scene on an icy, curvy mountain road. And the hunky handyman in The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade rides a Harley, much to the dismay of his girlfriend’s father. It’s fun combining my two passions and sharing the stories with my readers, most of whom have no idea that Virginia Smith is a also a Motorcycle Mama.

 

 

About the Author:

VIRGINIA SMITH is the bestselling author of thirty-five novels (and counting!). An avid reader with eclectic tastes in fiction, Ginny writes in a variety of styles, from lighthearted relationship stories to breath-snatching suspense. Her books have received many awards, including two Holt Medallion Awards of Merit.

Links:

www.virginiasmith.org

https://www.facebook.com/ginny.p.smith

https://twitter.com/VirginiaPSmith

 

Book Links:

The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade

Amazon:  https://tinyurl.com/y7wwfjgm

B&N: https://tinyurl.com/y7txk7a6

 

A Deadly Game

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y73d3jjf

B&N: https://tinyurl.com/y7xwhzdo

 

 

 

Confession of Two Arrogant Thoughts

by James L. Rubart

 

eugeneArrogant Thought # 1

It was the mid 90s when I finished a novel in the wee hours of the morning and said to myself, “Really? C’mon. That’s supposed to be a good story? I could write a story way better than this.”

It wasn’t the first time that thought had skittered through my mind.

Arrogant? Yeah. But I didn’t do anything other than think that thought. Why? I’ll explain. (You might even relate.)

I’d dreamed of being a novelist since I was eleven. But I’d been taken out at the end of 8th grade by a lie that I believed till I was in my early 40s. The lie? That I had no writing ability.

In 8th grade—given my dream of writing—I took a journalism class. I loved it. I imagined being on the school paper the next year. Then, at the end of 8th grade, the journalism teacher chose the staff for the newspaper the coming year.

You already know where this is going. You’re right. My name wasn’t on the list. And I believed deep down in my core: “You can’t write, Jim.”

How ‘bout you? Might not have been writing for you. Might have been sports, or speaking, or painting, or singing, or cooking, or running for student body president, or a million other things, but I’m guessing you had a dream, a desire, something that stirred that deep place of joy inside you, but it crashed. It burned. Or it never got off the ground.

Arrogant Thought # 2

Fast forward a few years. Thanks to my life-changing wife, I finally jumped off the novel writing cliff and built my wings on the way down. (Thanks to Ray Bradbury for that awesome metaphor.) I got published. I hit a bestseller list. I won an award for that first novel.

You know what my reaction was?

I thought, “It’s not that I’m any good, it’s just that everyone else is so bad.”

That’s what I thought. Truly. Arrogant and self-deprecating and judgmental—all at the same time.

The Truth

In the years since I’ve discovered a few things. Or better said, my perspective has changed in a few ways.

  • First, both of the arrogant thoughts above come from deep insecurity. Am I worth anything? Do I matter? Can I do anything in my life that’s worthy of being remembered?
  • Second, the only way to be set free from that insecurity is to know, to KNOW I am loved by a Father with an unquenchable love. A Daddy that loves all my attempts—and sees all of them as triumphant, that celebrates not what I do, or accomplish, or create, but celebrates me simply because I am His son.
  • Third, the answer to the first question (can I do anything worth remembering?) is it’s really, truly okay … wherever the path of your life leads you, it’s okay. You are worthy. You do matter. You are utterly loved by a good, good, Father. And that’s enough. God’s definition of success is different than ours. Our is money, or fame, or recognition or … fill in the blank. But God’s is simple. Did you try? With whatever ability, be it great, or small, did you try? And the very fact that you care that you’re trying means you’re trying.

 

So as my friend Mark says, “Go crazy!”

Try it.

Dream it.

Believe it.

Do it.

 

tljtjp-cover

 


The Long Journey to Jake Palmer

Publishers Weekly starred review

Library Journal starred review

RT Book Reviews- 4 1/2 stars and  TOP PICK!

Available wherever books are sold.

 

 


james-l-rubart-hs-v4-7-26-16Author Bio:

James L. Rubart is 28 years old, but lives trapped inside an older man’s body. He thinks he’s still young enough to water ski like a madman and dirt bike with his two grown sons, and loves to send readers on journeys they’ll remember months after they finish one of his stories. He’s the best-selling, Christy, INSPY, and RT Book Reviews award winning author of eight novels as well as a professional speaker. He lives with his amazing wife on a small lake in eastern Washington.

More at www.jameslrubart.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Confessions of a Book Gypsy

confessionsof-abook-gypsyThere’s something gloriously fascinating about touching down in a new place, tripping along the cobblestones of an unfamiliar street, and eyeing buttery croissants in the display case of a cute café. And always—no matter where you go—there’s a wrinkled old woman gossiping on the corner. How do I know?

Because I’m a book gypsy, of course.

I’ve visited over 30 countries (some multiple times) in the last 10 years. I lived in northern England for two and a half years, while traveling to nearly every continent in my communications role with a global non-profit. I’ve interviewed an ex-Buddhist monk in Myanmar, ridden a camel on the sands of Arabia and photographed a wrinkled babushka (grandmother) in Siberia. My first published novel was co-authored completely via Skype and Google Docs, and I’ve edited more manuscripts at several thousand feet, on the floors of random airports, or in foreign countries, than I have at home.

My friends call me their gypsy, and I’ve enough of a Boho streak to concede their point. I’m also a bit of a collector in my travels. Of souvenir bits and bobs and smatterings of dialect, sure, but also of sights and smells and memories of places and people most will never see or know exist.

Istanbul? Colorful carpets and warm, fragrant bread. Northern England? Misty mornings and stone fences, a thick brogue and steaming steak and ale pie. United Arab Emirates? The call to prayer ringing out over the sunrise, crushed mint lemonade, and white robes flapping in a hot breeze. Bangkok? The sharp fragrance of incense and the insistent clanging of tuktuks. Africa? Pink, hazy sunsets and a baby rhino snuffling at a water hole, rough curls under my fingers and the most epic senior citizen dance moves you’ve ever seen.

ts00286rvOne of my greatest joys as I travel is to soak up the lives of very different people in very different places, to walk a mile in their recycled-tire shoes and experience their normal. Sometimes I capture a snapshot in a photograph or well-turned phrase, or sometimes I simply exchange a smile and make a memory.

My gypsy ways have given me abundant opportunities to observe a variety of people, places, and cultures and to employ the most important rule of traveling—first, always, seek to understand. Observe. Listen. Taste. Experience. Then, bit by bit, understanding will come.

I’ve found this experiential way of learning to be very helpful as I develop my fictional cultures and characters, layer by layer. I ask myself, as I do when visiting any new place, “What do they believe?” “What is valued in their culture?” “Who has power and influence?” “Is the individual—or the community—most important?” “What roles do people play in society? Family? Religion?”

Often, other people’s “strange” behavior (or even bizarre road construction!) makes perfect sense when viewed from their belief and value system, which may be completely opposite to mine. Once these “building blocks” are in place, I can then create the outer layers of fictional cultures and characters through sensory details, mannerisms, dialect, and more.

img_2280rvThat’s where characters really come to life. That’s when readers can take a walk through your streets, sit down and gossip with your old women, feel the desert wind sandblast their cheeks, and smell the spices stacked in pyramids at the markets.

If you’ll forgive me my worn, battered soap box (it’s seen a few miles), one of my greatest frustrations and disappointments when both reading and editing books is stories that lack realistic cultural depth, and characters that exist outside of their cultures.

Technology that doesn’t correlate, people behaving in ways that are inconsistent with cultural roles without repercussions, character housing and dress that is completely at odds with their culture, religion, or environment. The list is lengthy and egregious, but I’m sure you can think of your own examples, so I won’t belabor the point.

People say to write what you know, and for very good reason. How would I know that a Qatari souk (indoor/outdoor market) smells like saffron and sounds like a mildly-chaotic petting zoo if I hadn’t walked those crowded corridors?

Authors know their worlds better than anyone. Their fantastical cultures, people and places are their second home. But I’ve found they often don’t know their fictional home cultures as well as they might think. And that’s truly a shame, because truly rich and wondrous worlds can exist in the minds of writers—and their readers—if only they first would seek to understand.

That’s what I love about being a book gypsy, after all. There are always brave new worlds to discover, strange people to meet, fascinating cultures to experience, and a comfy armchair and a warm cup of tea to come home to after a long journey.

But, I must be off. Book gypsies don’t stick around long, you know. After all, the road goes ever on and on, and I must follow, if I can.

 

katiem2About the Author

 

Website: www.storyforhisglory.com

Instagram: Create.Explore.Illuminate

Facebook: Create. Explore.Illuminate

Pinterest: @CPKarisWaters

Twitter: @CPKarisWaters

Book: www.crosshairpress.com/books/kenan/

Confessions of a Rejected Author

BelieveWe are told that if we pray hard enough … long enough … that you will get what your heart desires. Added to that is the phrase “if it is a Godly desire”. I’m fairly sure this is a cultural teaching, but that is not the point. The point is, we pray, expecting to get what we pray for. The “God is a vending machine” mentality. This idea goes hand in hand with the idea of God making us prosper. That we will have a happy life with no issues, other than where to spend our money, because he has made us so prosperous.

Somewhere in all of this, the idea that we are tested and that the enemy attacks us is lost. Maybe because we don’t want to hear it, or maybe because, too often, the bible verses “Ask and it will be give to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:8) and “Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” (Mark 11:24), are taken out of context and used as a one shot to bolster the spirits of Christians and non-Christians alike.

If you actually read further in Matthew 7, you will see that Jesus is actually talking about being given what is GOOD for us by our heavenly Father. “Which of you, if his son asks for bread will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him.” (Matthew 7:9-11)

The verse in Mark is taken out of context as well. If you read several verses before this one, you find out that Jesus curses a fig tree and the next morning, Peter expressed amazement that the curse Jesus spoke came to be. It is there we find the meaning of this story. “Have faith in God,” Jesus answered. (Mark 11:22) Simple, precise, and to the point. This verse is not telling you that YOU demand of God, but instead, trust that God’s promises and God’s will will be carried out.

Does that mean we shouldn’t pray for what we desire?

Of course it doesn’t. But if you ask people if they got every desire of their heart, the answer is going to be no.

But doesn’t that mean it wasn’t a Godly desire?

Not necessarily. I prayed long and hard that my son would be healed and get to come home with us a happy, healthy, and normal little boy. I even took comfort in the idea that Godly desires are granted. It took our family preacher at the time telling me that just because I prayed, doesn’t mean I would get it. As much as I didn’t like to hear it then, I am SO grateful he spoke that truth into my soul at that time. Because when I DIDN’T get the desired answer from God, I didn’t lose faith. I kept the knowledge that God’s will doesn’t necessarily translate directly into what I want. But I also don’t believe that my desire was not put there by God. I fully believe that He, as our loving Father, would never want that type of pain to be given to one of his children.

I had a Godly desire, but God still said no. I do not have all the answers to the “why” behind it. And the day I finally do, I don’t think it will matter, since I will be with God and all of my lost babies.

Prayer will not always give you what you want. Sometimes, there is a “no” answer. And that is okay.

At the end of 2015, I submitted my first story to be considered for publication. (It was my “first” in terms of it was more than the rough draft. I actually worked on refining it and having others read it to help me fix big mistakes.) It was part of a contest and I was nervous and excited. I hoped I would win, but told myself I didn’t hold out much hope. (That was a lie to myself…I’m working on that!) But I would pray. I prayed long and hard some nights for God to let me win the contest and my my story be one of the five chosen. I even went as far as laying out why I wanted to win. (I realized later that this was only half the truth … but more on that in a bit.)

So February of 2016 came around, and I saw a post that made it seem like the winners had already been notified and I hadn’t been contacted. I was devastated. I felt like the best I could give wasn’t good enough and there is no way God intended for me to write because I wanted to win so bad. I didn’t do much other writing in February, telling myself I needed the time to recoup from my disappointment. I had really given up on myself at that time.

Towards the end of February, hoping for something I missed, I re-read the blog post that I THOUGHT said the winners had already been notified. I read and re-read the wording of a certain part and realized that I had been initially mistaken. The winners didn’t know who they were yet. There was still hope! But I still had about a week and half of anxious waiting before I would know for sure. The wait was going to do me in!

I prayed again that I would win the contest. But this time, I focused on a part of the prayer I had missed when I was praying in January…I prayed that God’s will be done. I was a lot calmer and a lot more focused on the fact that with all the entries in the contest, the chances of me winning was slim (there were only 5 winners of who knows how many … but it was more than 100).

So March 1 came along, and I read the announcement page. Sure enough, my name wasn’t listed as the five winners. Nor was it listed in the 5 runner ups. I was disappointed, but this time, I started thinking of the why.

Why was my desperate desire not granted. I had a Godly reason behind it. I wanted my story to touch and impact a person positively. So if I had a good reason, why was there a no.

I did a lot of soul searching the days after I saw the announcement. I finally realized that me wanting to impact the people who read my story was only part of the reason I wanted to win.

If I won, my story would be published, and I could figuratively thumb my nose at all those people who told me I couldn’t do it (even myself).

If I won, I would get money and my name in print … on a real life published book, published through a publisher that, while small, was an actual publisher that gave out rejections. This publisher is not a vanity press! It is the real deal!

If I won, I would be able to go to my library and tell them, “Hey I have a story that is going to be published.” I would have my name out there!

None of these reasons are inherently “bad” reasons (except for maybe the first one that hits a little too close to pride…). But they are all reasons that I lied to myself about. I’m sure there are other reasons I’m still keeping from myself, too.

My point with this, though, is to say that even though I prayed and had a good desire…a desire that, I believe, was placed there by God, it wasn’t my only desire. I would venture to say that it probably wasn’t even my STRONGEST desire.

I’m sure, like my prayer of healing for my son, there are multiple reasons why God said “no” to me having my story win, I think I’ve figured out a few.

One reason is I needed to learn a bit of humility. We all do, but I was so caught up on what I would do or say when I finally got published, that I started to think of myself as better than others. I spent some time reading other stories that were similar to mine after I submitted my story. “Mine was better than that one,” was a strong thought I had in the three months between when I submitted the story and when the winners were announced.

Another reason is I needed to look deep into my own reasoning and my own thoughts as to the “why” behind my desires. I only spoke of my “other” desires to, really, my husband. I kept them well hidden from myself most of the time and tried to “hide” them from God (that never works because He always knows …). If anyone would have asked me my reasons behind wanting to win, I would have whipped out my “I want to impact someone who reads my story” excuse.

If I had won, I would have never thought on my other reasons. I would have been prideful and arrogant and would have pushed my agendas, without much thought to the reason I told everyone about.

God answers prayers. I have seen it happen. I have witnessed it happening. But sometimes, the answer is “no.” We can’t ever know the full extent of the reason behind the no, but there is a reason. And we need to maintain our faith and belief that not only does God want to give us what we ask for, but he wants us to actually have better than we ask for. And this means, sometimes, He has to say “no.”

20150808_074211Author Bio:

Jill Fortriede is a stay-at-home-mom and future homeschooler. She has three beautiful girls here on Earth and three babies in heaven. She loves fairy tales, Narnia, and most things speculative.

Confessions of a Publisher/Editor/Author

confessions of aThank you for having me on your blog today, Ralene! Let’s see … the good, the bad, and the ugly. Hmmm …

The Good:

As a publisher, I am constantly on the prowl for the next amazing story that will rock my world and be a good fit for my publishing company. And I love delegating tasks to my team. Especially marketing. While completely necessary, marketing is just the worst. (For me, anyway! I still learn everything I possibly can about it.) I love having a professional marketer who relishes promoting our books and is an expert in her field. It frees me up to be an expert in mine!

As an editor, I thrive on making other’s words succinct and captivating. I love hacking sentences to pieces, celebrating especially captivating phrases, and gently explaining the rules to my authors. (There are so many!) Being an editor is my favorite of the three.

As an author, I make myself giggle. As in, all the time. I especially find my new release, Zombie Takeover, hilarious. I’m quite certain it isn’t as hysterical as I think it is, but I mean, come on! If I don’t enjoy myself, what’s the point of writing? (Then again, I may be exhausted from all of the publishing and editing and writing and … zzzzzzz.)

Oh! Right! The Bad:

As a publisher, I get cornered at every opportunity and told about “this amazing book idea” an aspiring author has rolling about in his or her head. Write it down, people. I can’t read what hasn’t been put on paper, and neither can anyone else. You shove it at me; I will most likely read it. (I will. I love reading new material. So much.) But I can’t publish your ideas. I’m so sorry. Write. It. Down. End of rant.

As an editor, a comma in the wrong place gives me ticks, and I’ve been known to yell at my computer screen when an author gets “that” happy. (You know: “The thing that I wanted” instead of “The thing I wanted”—see. Nervous tick. Right there.) 😉 Also, I now constantly edit every. single. word I read. Books just aren’t the same anymore. Sniff. On the other hand, a well-turned phrase can send me into squeals and happy dances, and I have to read it to everyone in sight. I am so sorry, random stranger. Yep. That was me. You just had to hear it.

As an author, I’m always being bombarded by these amazing story ideas—that I’ll write down as soon as I’m done editing this other person’s book right over here …

The Ugly:

As a publisher, my pet peeve is a grainy or low-resolution image or a less-than-professional post for all the world to see. The ugly part (and this is all on me!) is I’ve been known to ask my authors to take down a post or re-upload an image that looked like it was taken off the internet at 1kb. (Only if it applies to marketing. I wouldn’t dream of asking them about a personal post—I hope! Just their professional image.) And watch. Right after this post, I’m going to accidentally upload something with the grainiest picture there is with three typos and not find out about it for a week. 😉

As an editor, I have actually cried over jobs that were so bad, I wondered why in the world I took them. (This was ages ago, way before publishing, not anyone who knows me! Completely random, anonymous jobs. No, I’m not talking about you. I loved your book, whoever thinks I’m talking about them. I’m not.)

As an author, I’ve been completely baffled when my own book comes back from my editor and has—red marks on it. Gasp! I’m an editor! How on earth can my stuff be swimming in red? Sob! I don’t handle it well. At all. (But it must be done! Even editors shouldn’t edit their own work. Sad, but true.)

Let’s end in “The Good” again, shall we? “The Ugly” there is giving me the shivers. It sounds so terrible!

As a publisher, my drive, my dream, and my passion is to bring quality books to life in this world hungry for the very best fiction. It’s important to me to have a professional cover, professional editors combing the manuscripts, professional formatting and interior design—notice the word professional? Quality matters, and I only hire the best. I want each of my authors to succeed.

As an editor, I want each manuscript perfected, not a mistake in sight. That’s my goal every time I edit. I reference the CMOS, CWMS, Proofreading Secrets of Bestselling Authors by Kathy Ide, and Merriem-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary often to stay on top of industry standard. And I take editing courses at every opportunity. (The EFA rocks!) Whether an author is published through my company or not, I want to give them my best. They deserve it.

As an author, I write the stories I adore and want to read. I strive for quality, and, even though it’s extremely hard to have my own work edited, I love learning new things and refining my manuscripts. I also love to hear if I’ve made a mistake (weird, but true)—how else will I learn?

Thank you so much, Ralene and everyone, for letting me share a slice of my world with you today! I loved spending time with you more than I can say!

What about you? What is your favorite gift with which our Creator has crafted you?

Author Head Shot MicheleAuthor Bio:

Michele Israel Harper spends her days as a stay-at-home mom and her nights typing
away furiously on her laptop. Sleep? Sometimes… A member of the Heartland Christian Writers, American Christian Fiction Writers, as well as the treasurer for the Indiana chapter of ACFW, Michele has her bachelor’s degree in History and can most often be found with her nose in a book when not chasing her two rambunctious boys or cuddling her new baby daughter. Visit her website at www.MicheleIsraelHarper.com to learn more about her.

Social Media Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/love2readlove2write/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/razersj
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14554353.Michele_Israel_Harper
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/razersj/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/michele_israel_harper/
Amazon Author: http://www.amazon.com/Michele-Israel-Harper/e/B016YW4Q6Q

Zombie Takeover_Kindle editionMichele has a new book coming out in a few weeks. You can find out a little more about the book at the below link. I’ll also be reading/reviewing the book in July!

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1Yo9yUf