Good news, relatively speaking. The manuscript has not been rejected by Moody Publishing at this point. It also hasn’t been accepted. That’s because after four long, dragged out months the editor either hasn’t finished looking it over or hasn’t begun. I can’t tell you the relief I felt at realizing no decision has been made yet. Optimism can be sustained when there is still a sliver of possibility. In my book (or rather, for my book), no news really is good news for the time being. Maybe tomorrow I have an email saying “sorry but it’s not what we’re looking for,” maybe I don’t. All I know is that today, I still have a chance for this publishing deal that I want so badly.
Category: Writing
Synonyms
Encouraged; uplifted; edified; emboldened… I do love a good synonym search. The thesaurus is an intimate friend. Last night, I (finally, thank God) finished writing chapter six and began chapter seven. I am increasingly happy with how the story is coming together. If I keep away the devilish self-doubt and concentrate on the movements God puts in my heart to continue writing, any of these synonyms are a fitting choice for me. It’s a funny and perplexing thing, this need to write. I desire, quite a lot, to be published, but I need to write. Personal journal, prayer journal, blog, church newsletter articles, company newsletter, emails, and of course, novels; I’m an addict… in a positive way. It has become a compulsory action. There is a gradually building certainty that without publication, I will still write. It won’t be set aside, not willingly at least.
Need: noun, def.: want, requirement; syn.: charge, commitment, compulsion, demand, duty, essential, longing, must, obligation, requisite, urgency, weakness, wish
Casting Director
A friend asked me last night who I’d cast in a film version of my novel, Full of Days. I was stumped at the moment, unable to come up with anything. Today I find myself daydreaming about it, carefully running through possibilities for each of the main characters. Honestly, I’d be overwhelmingly happy if someone would just make my book into a book. In the meantime though, this is kind of fun.
Running Late
The Brewers drop two in a row to the Nationals (basically they played the worst team in baseball by acting as if they were the worst team in baseball) and yet I’m in this good of a mood this morning? That can only mean one thing. Since I’m not in love, I must be writing. I’ve been typing up the pages I wrote in the last week and decided to do more of that while I ate breakfast today. As I typed, one moment in the narrative jumped out at me as ideal for a little further character development. The writer in me woke up and all else faded from conciousness. Twenty-five minutes later, the tiny digital clock in the corner of the screen catches my eye and I realize I’m going to be late for work! Oops! It’s hard to scold myself being carried away when I was carried to exactly where I wanted to be… and wanted to stay.
Not-So-Daily Update
The daily reporting of writing progress doesn’t seem to be happening. But I can sum up the last few days for you: chapter five finished. Yessiree, I wrote the latter half of chapter four and all of chapter five over the weekend.
Still no word from Moody Publishing on their decision about Full of Days. “Patience and fortitude conquer all things,” according to Ralph Waldo Emerson. Can you guarantee that for me, Mr. Emerson? Even the chasm between the Land of Dreaming and the Land of Publication?
Time Will Tell
I wonder what might become of me if I only allowed myself one day off a week from writing. What might be accomplished? What might change? Even if it’s a mere half hour spent with pen in hand, such a difference it would be from my normally episodic intervals of writing anything at all. Two days in, so we’ll see where it goes from here. Perhaps as a matter of accountability, I’ll report to you, ever present blogosphere, each day.
Yesterday: 1.5 hours
Today: 1 hour
O Lord, make me steadfast, my hand ever on the plow.
The Waiting
My heart is heavy today. Not with distress or sadness, but with weighty thoughts and the unshakable need to pray. Yesterday did not end until 2 a.m. today, as I couldn’t bear to put down a particular novel I’d started reading earlier this week. The very satisfying ending did so much more than leave me happy. It compelled me to pray, to fall into the Lord’s hands and ask the questions I fear asking.
Besides the book, two other things have me asking those questions. One is a potential relationship I’d been excited to pursue until I was stopped in my tracks by a conflicting relationship. I feel I must step back and let it go, though I wish, wish, wish that wasn’t required. I am tempted to be selfish in this case, to not think of others with higher regard than myself, as the Scriptures would advise. Secondly, there is the reality that I have yet to hear back from the single, desirable publisher who has said they are considering my novel. No word for what feels like half a year, though it’s been a bit less than that, and no new ideas for who else to send the manuscript to when the likely negative answer is received. I cannot pretend I know what to do next.
This morning I read an article that continued the route my heart had taken up last night. The phrase “faithfully serving the Lord where He had placed [me]” keeps circling my mind. The author’s use of it had a nature of waiting and of contentment, allowing God to bring more into her life without specifically pursuing the ‘more’ at the expense of the ‘now.’ Perhaps it is the discouragement winning out against the drowning optimism, but I am nagged by the question of whether or not I am running from contentment. Do I write in order to avoid fully engaging in the placement the Lord has given me? Do I write because I am trying to create a life of my own planning and pursuit, rather than His? Because it’s begun to feel that way. If I gave it up and immersed myself in the circumstances in which He has placed me, would I be glad for doing so? Would I be grateful to be rid of that ongoing frustration of not being able to immerse myself in both? Or would I be sacrificing a calling, shutting down some of the life in me?
My prayer last night (or this morning, rather) ended with the idea of hope. I hope for things unseen, as every hope must be. My hope is for plans and life and love, unseen by me. But not by Him. I guess I just want to be where He prefers me to be, and do what He prefers me to do. I don’t want to have my back turned as He’s bringing a plan to fruition in my life, as He’s opening a door. I don’t want to pursue the ‘more’ at the expense of the ‘now’, but I do so passionately want more than there is now.
Carrie In Writing 