Sunday, November 25, 2007

My Ebenezer

I've done here what I'm told one should never do in a novel, led off with backstory. I'll do my best to keep it brief.

By 1999 I’d written several novels targeted for the Christian (CBA) market. I’d come close to being published a time or two, met some wonderful writers and editors through Oregon Christian Writers, joined a local critique group, and found an on line Writers Forum where writers of all levels, walks of life and nationalities hang out and discuss things like point of view, opening scenes, underpainting, pacing, and dialogue tags. We plot to maim, poison, sicken and otherwise complicate the lives of our characters, cheering each other on whenever we can "make it worse" for them--before we make it better, of course! Well, in most cases….

Where was I? Oh, yes. Then in March of 1999 I was the one dealt a complication; I was diagnosed with Hodgkins Disease—a type of lymphoma. A very curable type. Mine was caught early enough to give me an 80% chance of beating it the first time around, meaning I would be undergoing chemotherapy and radiation.
“You’ll lose your hair,” my oncologist said. “You’ll lose your ability to have children.”
Two statements I expect no one ever wants to hear, if they like hair, and hope to be parents one day. But even in those early days of diagnosis I’d seen enough evidence of God’s hand and presence at work in the situation, and in my soul, that I accepted both of these eventual consequences of treatment, and it was well with my soul.
But there was one significant side effect of my cure that I wasn’t warned about, that I had to learn about and come to terms with the hard way—by experience: chemo fog.
I had expected to jump back into writing fiction once I got the all clear from my oncologist. I did try… and try… and floundered, faltered and failed. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t keep the plot threads and character development straight—tasks that, while never exactly easy, I once took for granted that my brain could and would perform, as long as I showed up each day, put my backside in the chair and words on the screen. That wasn’t working anymore. I couldn’t think clearly. I gave up on writing a time or two… or three during the next five years until in April of 2004 the urge to write again became overwhelming (like a fire in the bones). I decided to shelve the old projects that weren’t going anywhere and begin something new. A story set in the late 18th Century, a time period of US history I knew next to nothing about; the Revolutionary War had ended by then… I was fairly certain. It would be a story that would cross the lines of race and class, slave and free, north and south, and provide a significant, yet very different, spiritual journey for my main characters, Ian and Seona.
That story became KINDRED (working title), and as I began to write it, I was healed. It was almost as dramatic as God reaching into my brain and flipping the ON switch. Maybe He was waiting for me to choose the right project. I don’t know. I do know that He makes all things beautiful in His time. Not always my time. But the right time.
One interesting (to me) aspect of writing KINDRED is that I didn’t write it linearly—from Chapter 1 straight through to The End, as I had always written BC (before chemo). The main reason being, I didn't know where the story ought to begin. But I could see several intriguing bits that would happen sometime later. It might never have occurred to me to go ahead and write those scenes, never mind not knowing the beginning, had it not been for my on line acquaintance with Diana Gabaldon, an author who writes all her books this way. Chunk writing, it’s come to be called. Following her example, I jumped in and “dug where the ground was soft,” as she has often put it, all the while giving myself a crash course on the 18th Century and American slavery (in which I’m still enrolled). Eventually all the scenes and bits and pieces linked up, I figured out where the story should begin, and three and a half years later have a finished draft.
A very long draft, as I’ve mentioned. But I’ll worry about that soon enough. I’m still in a mood for celebrating the passing of a long-awaited milestone.
In the book of 1 Samuel, chapters 4 – 7, a series of battles between the Israelites and the Philistines is recounted. The Israelites begged the prophet Samuel to intercede for them. Samuel offered a sacrifice to God and prayed for His protection. When the Philistines approached, the Lord “thundered with a great thunder,” and so confused them that they were soundly defeated by Israel. After the victory Samuel “took a stone and set it up between Mizpa and Shen, and called its name Ebenezer (stone of help), saying, ‘Thus far the Lord has helped us.’ “ (1 Samuel 7:12)
So here I stand atop a mountain, looking back at the winding trail I’ve trodden. Thus far the Lord has helped me. It’s a pleasing view, but I seem to have taken the long way up; perhaps there is a more direct route, a few side trails that can be abandoned? A couple-or-hundred thousand words that can be cut?!
Most novels in CBA are published at lengths of 80,000 to 110,000 words. There are some longer, especially historicals (Liz Curtis Higgs’ Scottish series, for one), and certainly there are longer books published in the ABA market. At present, KINDRED tops out at 284,000 words. I’d like to give it a fighting chance at interesting an agent, and then a publisher.
I have work to do!

Here I raise my Ebenezer,
Here by Thy great help I’ve come.
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.


Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing
Robert Robinson, 1758

Thursday, November 22, 2007

So Let It Be Written

So let it be done!

It's taken three years and seven months, but at last (at last!) it is finished. The first draft of my historical novel, KINDRED (working title), begun in April 2004, sits cooling its heels on my hard drive (and my jump drive, and various piles of hard copy backup), waiting for me to catch my breath, gather my wits, and come back at it with a bright red editing vengeance. All 284,000 words of it.


KINDRED isn't my first novel. That was written fifteen years ago. So was a second sometime later, followed by a good-sized chunk of a third, and well over half of a fourth. KINDRED is a considerable milestone in my writing journey, however, a reason for celebration and the giving of heart-felt thanks. So on this Thanksgiving Day, 2007, I say thank you to my Father in heaven for a finished manuscript, and for the journey He's taken me on to reach this goal. He has been faithful, even when my faith faltered.

And to my friends and family who believed I could still do this and who encouraged me, prayed for me, listened to my whining, cheered me on, read scenes, gave feedback, shared their research and, in one special case, traveled hundreds of miles with me to visit a certain spot on the banks of the French Broad River... you all know who you are... thank you, with all my heart. And Brian, thank you for dwelling so graciously with the oddities and quirks of a wife whose head and heart are half the time stuck fast in the 18th Century.

As many of you know, there were seasons when I thought I'd never see this day. I'll talk about that in my next post.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning. James 1:17

May His light be yours this Thanksgiving, and every blessing!