On Preparations for SCBWI Carolinas Conference and Angelic Warfare

As I prepare to drag some participants of the SCBWI Carolinas into the world of children's magazine and nonfiction writing, I am also preparing for High Mass for the Feast of the Holy Angels. This is an especially important Mass since many in our parish (including my husband and I) are also committing themselves to Angelic Warfare. It is an apostolate of the Dominican Friars to promote chastity and purity with help from the Angelic Doctor, Thomas Aquinas, and the Blessed Mother. And it just so happened that last week, Chris Stefanick, came to speak at our Catholic High School about chastity and moral relativism. It was perfect timing.

Alas, what is perhaps the worst timing, we just discovered that our minivan has big troubles brewing. Transmission problems. Oy. Thankfully, there are friends coming to help us while we get it fixed. My husband doesn't think we'll have a catastrophic failure, but I don't want to take any chances, not on the freeway with the children. I see how instinctive it is to protect and preserve ourselves, but when it comes to matters of love, we are terribly reckless. My husband and I didn't even consider the ramifications of giving ourselves to each other without a commitment, and of the dangers of a broken heart. We were made to love and care for one another, not to use each other. And so we pray that our children and young people today will flee instinctively from counterfeit love and learn to discern and choose authentic love. Hence our commitment to Angelic Warfare.

I love the music our priest and choir director have chosen ... a beautiful Gregorian-style Mass by Rene Quignard. The hymns too, are beautiful as we call upon the three archangels and the Blessed Mother to come to our aid. Our organist is very talented and arranges much of the music for us. He is also fluent in Latin, so we often get a Latin lesson during choir practice. We are so very blessed to be bathed in so much beauty in our little church.

We pray the St. Michael prayer daily but until today I didn't know it was a short form. A good friend recently shared a Audio Sancto sermon that explains in greater detail who angels are, the powers they have, and how they help or harm us (yes there are bad ones too). At the end, the priest prays the entire prayer composed by Pope Leo XIII. If you have fifteen minutes to spare, I think you'll find it fascinating ... and perhaps find yourself criticizing children's literature featuring angels in completely absurd ways.

As you can see, my brain is again full of stuff. I am looking forward to the conference, the High Mass, and taking it easy for the next couple of weeks before polishing the historical. I ask for your prayers this weekend as we make these many preparations.

Sunday Sweets

Sweet … moi? I’m more of a salty person … But Faith nominated me for "Super Sweet Blogger Award" and I accepted. Because I can be sweet sometimes …


The rules copied from Faith: answer the following five sweet questions and nominate five sweet bloggers. Easy-peasy.

1. Cookies or Cake? Cookies! Ideally, ginger snaps. I cannot resist a little sweet something, probably to counteract all the salt and spice.

2. Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate. A luscious Belgian chocolate (I got spoiled living two years in Belgium). But I’ll settle for a Cadbury.  

3. Favorite Sweet Treat? Fresh mangoes. It's as if I've died and gone to heaven.

4. When Do You Crave Sweet Things The Most? In the afternoons, when I need a little pick-me-up.

5. Sweet Nick Name? My brother nicknamed me Winkie and it has remained. I tried to teach my husband a few Indian terms of endearment, but not one stuck. But he need only look at me ... and I melt.

Five bloggers who've added sweet goodness to my life (and who've not yet rec'd this award).

Marcia Hoehne, a dear, dear friend with whom I discuss life, faith, and writing.
Mgsr. Charles Pope, a holy priest who has taught me much about my faith.
Kristi Holl, whose Writer's First Aid is a great gift to all of us who are writer-mamas.
Verla Kay, who created the Blueboards, the best community for children's writers to support one another in their journey and where you can find me moderating/procrastinating.
Shannon Grogan, a writer from WA who sent me a copy of a book featuring my poem, and who is coming out with a new YA suspense FROM WHERE I WATCH YOU.
Becky Shillington, is a writer whom I'll get to see this coming weekend at the Carolinas SCBWI conference.

Is that six? Shucks, I can't count ... as it was quite apparent at choir practice last Wed.
 

The Prodigal Son ... Coming to His Senses

Today's readings are so good. If you have ten minutes to spare, please read. You see, I am the lost sheep; I am the lost coin; I am the prodigal son.

These verses strike me particularly:

I tell you, there will be rejoicing among the angels of God over one sinner who repents.

and

Coming to his senses ... “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”

and

While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion.

I didn't realize until today that it is the Father's gaze that allows us to come to our senses. Even when we leave, He doesn't stop looking at us with love. Oh, we hurt Him, but when we return we are bathed and baptized in His very tears. So, my friends, if you've been away, let the Father's gaze draw you near Him. It is never too late to come home.



MURILLO, Bartolomé Esteban (1667-70). I have this painting of the Return of the Prodigal Son on a prayer card, the act of contrition, but of course!

+                

Car Talk Guys discuss the Pope's Renault

These are just some of the comments that had me laughing:

I always thought the Pope would drive a Christ-ler

The pope can easily handle a flooded engine. Even if it’s of Biblical proportions.

I haven’t seen car trouble like this since we tried to fit all the Apostles in one Accord.

It’s either burning oil, or you’ve just been replaced.

“A little black smoke is fine, just watch out for the white smoke”.

Look the Vatican acquired a new relic.

“The Spiritus Sancti made manifold…”

“Well, sir, it keeps overheating because the water in the radiator keeps turning to wine…”

Read the full article here:

http://cnsblog.wordpress.com/2013/09/13/what-did-the-popes-mechanic-say/

Wipes tears!

I love this Pope! He's keeping everybody on his toes.

DONE!!!!

This evening, I finished a grueling round of revisions on my historical that has taken me over a year (in fits and starts). The holes are filled, the characters deepened, and I understand my story better.

I'm looking forward to taking a break from this for a couple of weeks, concentrate on the upcoming conference and other short stuff I'm writing. The next round will not take nearly as long as I'll be revising for pacing and clarity, but tonight, I am so thankful to be done with this revision.

This historical has a long history. It's the first novel that I ever attempted to write, when I had no skills. The ideas were nebulous. There wasn't a burning question in my heart, just a desire to understand something that happened in India's history when I was ten years old. I can't say I do now, but over the years, I collected books and read articles, which made me ask even more questions. Much like when you do science.

I abandoned the novel almost as soon as I started it, because I didn't know how to write a novel, and decided to focus on short stories. I love the form because my head is full of stuff and it was a way to explore many different ideas. But at least once a year or so, for about a month, I worked on the historical. And each time I picked it up, I eliminated one of the plot threads because there was just too much going on ... I mean, you can't have a political intrigue, love, betrayal, industrial accidents, religious conflicts, and assassinations all in one book. Oh, and there was time travel too ... because I love time travel books. You can see the problems with this novice writer ...

This went on for five years. I'd work on the historical for a month and put it aside since I was busy with my young family and almost always on deadline doing work-for-hire. But this is not the ideal way to write a novel. Then for five more years, I put it away completely. I worked on a different novel, a contemporary. It took me three years to finish. I spent the second half of last year querying. But it was a disappointing experience. Even the agents who praised the book, didn't love it enough to take me on as a client. Three new novels were percolating in my head. But this historical wouldn't let go. I told myself I owed it to myself to finish this.

I am so happy I did and the timing couldn't be more perfect. The novel is so much richer now for having sat in a box for five years. I am no longer the same person I was five years ago, and the insights I gained have not just been linearly incremental, but exponential. My critique partner asked me whether I have intentionally put this book aside because I'm afraid. It is such a personal book.

Short answer, no, not intentionally. But I do think there is a right time for everything, and this is the right time for it, and not a moment sooner. I'm a better writer now. And being a Catholic makes all the difference in the world. Thank you, Lord.

Have you ever resurrected an old manuscript after many years?

Surprise Mail

I've had quite a bit of writing inspiration from daily chores, including laundry. I know many women who bemoan having to do the wash, but since I have a washing machine, it is no trouble at all. I try to do one load a day and now that I have a clothesline, I hang them up ...

 

As a stay-at-home mom, I've tried to do the household work with my children. They loved sorting through socks, and this little poem was the result. Ladybug published it first in Dec. 2005. Those Ladybug readers are now reading Spider or Cricket, but I am delighted that a new batch of kids gets to have fun matching socks. There's also a matching game your children can play online. But, psst, it's better for them to do the real thing ... life skills and all, you know! 

 



I love this illustration by the amazing and multi-talented Laini Taylor ... and I think there's only one Laini Taylor. Pink-haired, fresh, funny, and a superb writer. I've listened to her speak about writing and I have especially enjoyed her posts about the writing process. Thanks Laini, for adding dromedaries to a simple poem. And thank you, Ladybug, for reprinting the poem.

This little package certainly brightened my day!

Spectacular Thunderstorms and More

Sept. started off with a bang! We've been enjoying the spectacular thunderstorms from our back porch. My son has been shooting many pictures and I hope you can *hear* the crack of thunder in them.

I'm starting Sept. off with a bang too! I have the heroic minute where I get up early to work on my novel. That's the only way it's going to get done amidst all the other writing I do.

We have many birthdays in the family to celebrate too!I love Sept.

Sept. will also end with a bang. The SCBWI Carolinas conference is set for the last weekend in Sept. and I am so excited as I prepare for it. If you are going, please find me. The Blueboarders are planning a get together Sat. evening and I'd love for you to join us. Sunday afternoon, I shall be hurrying back to sing for a High Mass for Feast of the Holy Angels. Oh, and if you are curious, our little church was mentioned in this article. So, if you're visiting in Charleston, you know where to find us.

Here's wishing you a Sept. filled with lots of bangs! The good kind :)

Weekly Dose of Chesterton

On my lunch break today, I discovered a gem of a blog: http://chesterton.wordpress.com/ 
Consider this little poem -- isn't it a delight?

Lines Written in a Picture Book (1906-1912)

 

This is the sort of book we like
(For you and I are very small),
With pictures stuck in anyhow,
And hardly any words at all.

 

You will not understand a word
Of all the words, including mine;
Never you trouble; you can see,
And all directness is divine —

 

Stand up and keep your childishness:
Read all the pedants’ screeds and strictures;
But don’t believe in anything
That can’t be told in coloured pictures.

 

But the deadlines are pressing down around me, so I must write instead of read, even as my cat paws me to pet her (I do think cats are an essential writer's companion). Why yes, I'm typing with just one hand ...

A few days ago I also learned that a bishop is opening a case for the sainthood of Gilbert K. Chesterton. This is beyond cool ... I've already begun asking him to pray for my writing endeavors. As I do JPII and Teresa de Avila.

Two-Part Invention

I received a lovely gift in the mail for our wedding anniversary: Two-Part Invention: The Story of a Marriage by Madeleine L'Engle. And what a joy it has been to read. I knew that her husband Hugh was an actor, but in this book, we get to peek into their courtship, their heartbreaks and their beautiful marriage. Because much of this book was written while Hugh was undergoing treatment for cancer, it has a touch of pathos. When the cancer was first mentioned, I thought, Oh please, don't let this be a memoir of his death. Oh, over the years, I've pondered death, my own and those of whom I love. This happens during times of separation and I've endured enough to last a dozen lifetimes. Now that we are together, I am not ready to let them go ... the doctor in this book says it best: It is hard to let go of beloved flesh.

I still remember vividly the last five months my mother lived. Five months from diagnosis to death. She chose palliative care only, and I am thankful. She was home except for the last week when we were unable to control her pain. She slipped into a coma shortly thereafter. My sister told me that before she was admitted to the hospital, she had a vision of her first-born son, our brother, waiting for her, all smiles. He died right before his fifth birthday well before we were born. Reading about Hugh's treatment and all the setbacks made me weep, but I also took pleasure in all their small pleasures, and the myriad ways we make love. The very writing of this book was an act of love.

This is a memoir of a marriage, a not-so-typical one considering that Madeleine was a writer and Hugh an actor, at a time when most women did not have a career. But they survived and thrived through separations, poverty, riches, illness, tragedy. They raised three children. I love it when one of the librarians asks, "What do you think you and Hugh do that is best for your children?" and Madeleine answers, "We love each other."

Truth has a way of delighting!

When they returned to the city so that Hugh could pursue acting, she say tells the children: "Your father needs me more in the evening when he comes home from the theatre than you do in the morning before school. We don't like each other very much in the morning, anyhow." So the children got themselves dressed and off to school, but Madeleine was all theirs when they came home. And she had time to reconnect with Hugh every night.

So much resonates in this book. It makes me want to write a memoir of the love Michael and I share, of our enduring marriage, of how we've lived our wedding vows -- to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

My only criticism is the bad theology regarding heaven and hell. Madeleine has a very difficult time believing in a God who would punish us forever. She doesn't want to believe in hell. But of course. We all want heaven for ourselves and those we love. Hell must be for people like Hitler or Stalin or Pol Pot, but not good people like us. However, hell isn't some place God sends us, rather we reject God and send ourselves there. Hell is eternal separation from God, the One for whom we long for, even if we do not realize it.

I remember reading Death on a Friday Afternoon by Richard Neuhaus and the first chapter dealing with this very thing. We hope that nobody is in hell, but no one talked more about hell than Jesus. Oh, I pray for Divine Mercy, but today's readings (coincidentally) make it clear that the path through the pearly gates is narrow, that it isn't enough to have faith and be good, that we have to strive to live according to His laws. Msgr. Pope writes eloquently on this. And so, I found myself praying for both Hugh and Madeleine, for the witness of their beautiful marriage and their strong faith. May I meet them in heaven one day.

Parce Domine.

Summer Blessings

Last night, both kids were in bed around 9 pm. My son, in Grade 9, had his first full day of school followed by football practice. My daughter and I went to the beach to play in the ocean and came home exhausted and a bit sunburned. My kind and considerate husband went off to school for parent night after a full day at work.

I'm looking forward to falling in a new routine. I will be starting a work-for-hire project tomorrow, so the timing couldn't be more perfect. And I hope to finish the revisions on my novel in the coming weeks. Then there are other little writing and conference related things to catch up on as well. But I will miss our time together ... 

We've had a wonderful summer. No family vacations, because of a rambunctious guest cat, but an unexpected writing retreat for me at Honesdale and the FSSP camp for my son. I am in search of a similar traditional camp run by nuns for my daughter. However, I am so thankful our children are content to take pleasures in the things offered right here, right now. The beach, the pets, our porch, watching movies and thunderstorms, hanging out with family and friends. My daughter loved her riding lessons and she took an Asian cooking class at the community college as well. We'd pore over her cookbook the evening before, thinking about all the rolls, noodle dishes and curries she'd prepare. When she came home, we'd be like vultures, swarming around her to try all the food. She loved sharing, as we all enjoy good food and cooking. She also participated in the church choir camp and let me tell you, the children sounded like angels at the Feast of the Assumption, their voices sweet and high as they sang O Sanctissima ... I wish I had a recording, but this will have to do. And below, some choice pictures (food and water photography by my son).



Lewey enjoys some samples too

Swimming for kids, writing for me

Quiet times for my daughter ... drawing

Riding ... a dream come true

 



Watching thunderstorms off the porch ... and the drama at the droplet level

 

Playing with hair :)



Fun in the sand and surf

 

Salmon by Smoky Daddy

Feta in basil leaves with blueberries and crackers --
My daughter's concoction

 

 

Summer's not over yet ... but with the start of school, new routines. I pray that all who are experiencing changes will have a smooth transition. Peace and joy!