An Excerpt from Kathy Mackel's Keynote Address

Rebirth

Writers are always pregnant with ideas. But no one says to you, “Congratulations! You’re with story!”
Conception—when you commit time and energy
Stretching—having to go further and deeper

Isaiah 26:17-18 – "As the pregnant woman approaches the time to give birth, she writhes and cries out in her labor pains, thus we were before you, O Lord. We were pregnant, we writhed in labor, we gave birth, as it seems, only to wind. We could not accomplish deliverance for the earth, nor were inhabitants of the world born."

Make sure that your writing gives birth to more than wind. How disappointing would that be? To work on something for so long, but since you didn't do it for God it amounts to nothing?

At some point, those faithful to God will meet God in their writing.

Not everything we write will see the light of day, but everything will see the light of life.

You might have to go back and re-birth it.

Ezekiel 37:1-10 (Valley of dry bones)
- what God is asking of you
- be born again as a writer
- re-birth each other!

Will you surrender to love?

*End Keynote Address*

That part about giving birth to wind--yeah, that's when I started bawling. It's something I worry about a lot. What am I doing all this for? I think I'm listening to God and letting him lead me through my writing, but what if it's just me? Writing for the Lord is a heavy responsibility, which is why you might need to rebirth your story to make sure it produces more than just wind. Rebirth each other. Renew, refresh, rebirth, recharge. Be reinspired!

I Cannot Control My Book Lust

I fully intended on getting someone a present (in which I succeeded). I did not intend on buying (new) books for myself, but I succeeded in that anyway. Oh well. They were on sale. That excuses me right? Right? Fine.

I got quite a bit further in my outline yesterday. Instead of ploughing on writing and writing, I decided to outline what I already had so I could continue on outlining the middle bits I need. (I have the ending. Mostly.)

To help the rest of you, as well as myself, with the writing process here are 10 characteristics of a good writer according to James Scott Bell:

1. Desire—It has to come from you. You have to be willing to sacrifice.
2. Discipline—You have to find a way to produce the words (a minimum on a regular basis)
3. Commitment to the craft
4. Patience
5. Honesty
6. Willingness to learn
7. Business-like attitude
8. Rhino skin—Rejection of your work is not a rejection of you unless it is accompanied by a punch on the nose.
9. Take the long-term view
10. Talent (& discipline)

I really need to keep these in mind and try to embody them in my work. Especially number two. I have to keep at it. Just keep swimming . . .

Notes from Angie Hunt's Keynote Address at Glen Eyrie

Rather than trying to sum up what I learned in each lesson, I figured I might as well just give you my notes. I wish I had a taken a tape recorder so I could put down verbatim what I heard. I can't describe the feelings and nuances of each session, but I wish I could. I also cannot read my own sloppy handwriting sometimes. There is a sentence in my notes that looks like, "Sonutinus can't place crucial message until 3rd or 4th draft." Yeah, I don't know what that's supposed to be. But the rest of it is pretty straightforward I think. More notes from the conference to come in the future. Enjoy!

“You must write. You must finish what you write.” – Robert Heinlein

6/7 Angie Hunt

“Praise the Lord and stay at the computer.”

Fiction is a microcosm of the world. If it presents a false version of truth, it cheats the reader. It’s lying propaganda.

Re-inspire

What inspires you? “The mortgage.” What inspires your ideas, hard work, to keep going?

Proverbs 3:4-5 “Trust the Lord with all your heart . . .” Pads are made for walking. Lean not on your own understanding, but still use it. Do what you think is sensible and logical—then let God direct your path. Don’t whine about it—be grateful. Conventional wisdom isn’t for you. Success is God’s doing, not yours.

Colossians 3 “Whatever you do or say, do it as a representative . . .”

Our work is an offering to the Lord. That’s why we polish! Focus on offering a worthy sacrifice.

“Excellence is the place where precision meets passion.” – Pastor Derrick

2 Samuel 24 “I cannot offer to the Lord that which cost me nothing.”

Don’t send manuscripts prematurely.

Start walking! Prove yourself a good steward! When God gives you a small thing, he isn’t doing it to see if you can. He’s doing it so you can see that you can. You are and always will be in the middle. There are always writers less talented than you and some more talented. Keep a healthy perspective.

God is waiting to see what you do with what you’ve been given. Beware of eternal consequences. Write as though your piece is bought, paid for, and distributed. Think of the brothers and sisters you can encourage. Don’t look for shortcuts. Write an irresistible story until you find an editor that agrees. Getting you foot in the door is hard; keeping it there is harder.

Avoid being distracted by illustrious offers asking you to work for the praise of men. We have to see ourselves as ministers to an unseen audience months down the road. Know what springs from self and what springs from spirit. Write wholeheartedly! Give the Creator praise! When we wield words, we reflect God’s image and creative drive. We’re driven to show the greatest truth to the world. Don’t put yourself under a lot of pressure. Laugh, learn, have fun, laugh when you need to. Strive for excellence, support brothers and sisters.

Icky Thump

I heard a noise earlier tonight, and when I went to see what it was, I found a tree frog attached to the window by the door. It was a nice little surprise. :)

So, I got back into town today. It's nice to be home, but I miss Colorado, my family, Glen Eyrie, and the amazing scenery. When the flight got into Tulsa, the flight attendant noted that, "It's hot. It's muggy. It's hot and muggy." I'm glad she didn't give an exact temperature, otherwise I would have been tempted to stow away on the plane. It was about 95 degrees outside. I don't even want to consider the humidity.

I'm unpacked, laundry is on its way, and I'm uploading my photos to Facebook in batches. Apparently it doesn't like my uploading things in bulk. Oh well, it will cope.

I keep waking up with the theme song in my head. It might be annoyingly catchy, but it's a nice reminder of last week and all that went on. It was easily the best week of my life. I got closer to God, learned some amazing things, met some fantastic people, and spent some time both relaxing and going non-stop having endless fun. Side note--Cooking Mama for Wii is on my birthday list now. My bday is June 28th, so you still have time. ;P

Reinspired

This place is something special. I'm not talking about the castle or the scenic views and wildlife or any of that. There is a peace here and such a blessing that I cannot even begin to know how to describe it properly. I haven't posted in a bit because I've been taking everything in. And I mean everything. The writing workshops, the fellowship, everything. And everything God has been intending to say to me.

I would love for my mom to have come with me and experienced this, but being alone out here has given God a chance to speak to me. I just thank Him so much for all He's done. The blessings in the past day alone are almost innumerable.

I just settled into my room for the night, got ready for bed, and took off my make up. Not that there was much left. I just spent the past few hours talking to a wonderful brother in Christ. He exorted and uplifted me so much not only by his own personal testimony, stories, and opinions, but also through what he ended up saying to me personally. The Holy Spirit had a lot going on tonight in the third floor workshop room. He said that when he walked by and saw me alone with my laptop that he felt in his heart just to come in and say hi. What we talked about has benefitted me so much already.

I thought I'd been feeling closer to God, mostly because I was surrounded by godly people and this amazing setting. But now that I think about it, it was mainly sentiment. This discussion has given me and incredible amount to consider, to pray about, to do, and to relax in.

And I've realized that all writers go through hurt--many of them go through the most heart-rending pain imaginable. We've been advised on how to make our protagonist have a "bleakest moment" and that we should take something we've written that's bad to them and make it worse. And then we need to go at it again. And a third time for good measure. I thought that was extreme, especially in the context of my own story but now I know that God wants us to mirror our own lives through every aspect of what we offer up to Him as our writing and our craft.

I hope that you all know how much God loves you, how tender He is, how He loves being Daddy--Abba. I'm praying continually for the people I've met here, and those I already know and love.

I guess I just want to end this post by saying thank you. You, my friends, have done so much for me. I'll never be able to tell you how much. But I'll try.

6/7/10 4:28 am (Colorado time)

Yes, I’m awake. Apparently the extreme stress of yesterday is preventing me from resting and has managed to turn into my stomach feeling like it’s doing flips. I ate some almonds, and it’s feeling better. But now I’m awake. There were a couple of things I forgot to mention yesterday. The first is that I saw seven Spanish-speaking Shaolin monks on the Dallas airport train. The second is that gate agents are just as insane as I am—the woman calling for passengers for my second flight got tongue tied while giving the message and just let it play out. She also forgot to take her hand off the intercom button. It came out something like, “Now all passengers wcouldmuffumpalum. Hahaha, I got a bit tongue tied there. I can’t even say it now. All aboard! *long pause* Wow that was really ba—is this still on? SHH!” Also, it seems like I have a strange talent for finding Canadians. I’ve met the three who happen to be here, and of course like them all. Canadians are much pleasanter than Americans on the whole I think. At least the Americans in the airport yesterday. I really have nothing bad to say about this place. Except maybe that air conditioning would help. It’s hard for me to sleep in a place warmer than 76 degrees.

Oh, the flashlight reference from the first entry. I’m glad you asked. The lodge I’m staying at isn’t terribly far from the castle, but it is uphill and in the dark. I walked back last night with a group of about four other women, and we were all trying to use our phones to light the way. The road in between things seems to be the only place I get phone reception. This wouldn’t normally be a bad thing, but apparently since I didn’t get to text my mom more than once after I got here she was a little antsy. Very understandable. We’re quite cut off really. Rather than continuing on blogging and yawning, I think I’ll get back to my manuscript. I need to prepare myself mentally for the things we’ll be doing in Nancy’s workshop today. I’ve heard stories.

P.S. I just heard two people out in the hallway, so apparently I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.

Supplementary Blog 6/6/10 Sergeant

“817, 817 . . .”

“Redhorse. Just remember Redhorse. We were special ops. He’ll know.”

And now that he’s gone, I wish I had asked his name. I know he was born in 1937, he served in Vietnam (he was in Laos, but he’s not really allowed to say that), he lives in Florida, and he loves white water rafting. Reading, intent on delving into C.S. Lewis’ wisdom I was interrupted by his phone conversation with his wife. It’s raining in Jacksonville right now—he hopes they’ll be able to land. He’s just coming from Denver—visited his daughter, a registered nurse, who had a bowel blockage (that can be a very serious thing). He hopes this is the last time he’ll have to fly—he hates it. He’s not supposed to anyway. He still has shrapnel in his leg and face. Plus he can barely hear. Only ten percent in this ear—the right one. I had to suppress a laugh. The terminal was roaring with noise and I was speaking quietly, yet he could clearly hear me. He learns I’m from Oklahoma. Do I know the Will Rogers Turnpike? Why yes. I drive it almost every day. They have the world’s largest McDonald’s, in that city Vinita. The one over the road? That’s the one. And if I ever go to St. Louis I have to look for the floating barge by the Arch—it’s a McDonald’s too.

He’s glad to be coming home. Colorado’s not what he thought it was. Riff raff and crime. He likes peace. He’s lived in Kentucky, too. Never had to lock his doors. He called about his handicap sticker expiring. The woman greeted him and knew him by the sound of his voice. She said don’t bother with renewing it. Just get a Brillo pad and give that square a good scrub. He wrote in the new date as ’14.’ Goodwill wanted to know if he’d like to o back to Vietnam with them for a benefit. Hell no. His family thinks he’s not a good American for it, but he still hates the people over there. He can’t forget what happened. I said I didn’t think he was so bad.

I can’t relate to what he saw in that war, but I could feel the import of the tears welling up in his eyes. He was never close to his kids. They grew up while he was on duty. But he provided for them—college tuition for each one. And now when they’re sick, they call for Daddy. In all that time I sat next to him, thinking about his life and how hard things were for him to give so much up for his country, I never thanked him. He walked up to board his plane and wished me well. I returned the sentiment but nothing more. I know how he retired after 28 years of service, and how he worked in a coal mine to pay for his surgeries and for his family. But I’ll never know his name. Maybe this can be my thank you.