by jphilo | Feb 18, 2008 | Book Updates
As has been mentioned before, a writer friend and I are collaborating on a mystery novel. At different times during the late 1970s and 80s, Ginger and I lived near the border of South Dakota and Montana, where the novel is set.
Writing the novel has been a great adventure. My keyboard takes me to the vast prairie where Hiram and I lived for seven years. The majority of the novel’s action takes place in late April, the best time of year on the high plains. The mosquitos and the grasshoppers have yet to appear, and little calvies and lambies gambol in pastures green from snow melt and spring rains.
And yet in this idyllic setting Ginger and I have exposed the dark underbellies of our souls. We’ll be describing a romantic picnic at Medicine Rocks State Park, and a dead body shows up. An afternoon drive from Buffalo to Slick Creek takes a detour into a savage beating. A shy, young rancher investigates a suspicious break-in and is whapped upside the head by an arsonist. And his mother, while attending an innocent Extension Club meeting, has visions of wringing the town gossip’s neck.
What is happening to us? I’m getting a little concerned. The climax of the novel is nearing and soon, Ginger and I will plan the end. We’ll decide whether the rancher who disappeared early in the story is in hiding or if he died, along with how many more innocent people have to die and what happens to the bad guys.
That’s not even the half of it. We’re planning a series of mysteries set in the area. And if there’s already this much madness and mayhem during the most beautiful time of year on the short grass prairie, what will happen when the weather turns bad? I don’t want to think about how dark our underbellies could get during a wintertime mystery when the drifts are eight feet high. Or in the summer when a plague of grasshoppers appears. Or in a dry fall with forest fires raging.
The whole project scares me a little, but not enough to make me quit. Instead, I’ll ease my conscience by giving you a word of warning. From now on, pay attention to the weather reports and invite me over only when the forecast is good. You’ll be a whole lot safer if you consider me a fair weather friend.
by jphilo | Jan 25, 2008 | Book Updates
If you’re wondering about the picture, it’s a blood pressure cuff. It will be twenty-six years old this May, the same age as our son who spent the first two and a half weeks of his life in in the neonatal intensive care unit at the University of Nebraska hospital in Omaha.
For years, while he endured more surgeries and procedures, the cuff was hidden in of his box of baby things. But now it hangs near his six month picture, in my office. I put it there so I wouldn’t forget the babies and parents going through heart-wrenching experiences every day.
For a long time, I’ve been asking God what I could do to help those hurting families. In a week or so, I may get an answer. My book proposal, A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically and Chronically Ill Children, has been at Discovery House Publishers since August. The publisher called me in late November to tell me that they loved the proposal, but because it focused on such a niche audience they weren’t sure it was feasible. Still the marketing committee wanted time to brainstorm strategies and see if they could develop a viable plan.
The editor emailed me yesterday and said they’ve run the numbers and will meet next week to make a final decision. I have no clue as to the outcome. All I know is that hurting parents need this book. So if you think of it this week, would you pray for the committee and for me?
Pray that they would make the right decision based on the information they’ve gathered. And pray that I would accept their decision with grace and move forward with confidence. Because whatever they decide, I can’t shake the conviction that God has a way for me to minister to those parents and their children. The blood pressure cuff won’t let me.
by jphilo | Nov 29, 2007 | Book Updates
Waiting is so hard, especially for an impatient person like me. I was sure that yesterday would be the end of waiting for me. The publication committee at the house considering my book proposal, A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically and Chronically Ill Children, met yesterday. And my proposal was on the agenda. Finally, after months of waiting, I would have an answer.
Only that’s not how it happened. I got a call from the editor. The committee liked the writing. They think the topic is important and that there’s a hurting audience that needs to be reached. But they aren’t sure how to crack the market so the book gets to parents and families who need it. So the marketing people want a month to come up with a plan. If the plan’s viable, the book might be published.
I was a little disappointed until I looked outside and saw the red oak tree. A month ago, it was the last tree in the yard still hanging onto it’s leaves. Every day for weeks I checked to see if the leaves had fallen. They hadn’t. But then we went on vacation, and I got out of the habit. When I looked today, its leaves were all on the ground.
All my watching didn’t move things along, but when the time was right, the change came quickly. So I’m still waiting for the right time. And I’m pretty sure God’s chuckling as He teaches me another lesson in patience.
by jphilo | Oct 30, 2007 | Book Updates
I’ve mentioned before that my writer friend, Ginger, and I are collaborating on a novel. It takes place in a remote area on the border where South Dakota and Montana meet. Ginger has written and published several novels, but this is my first stab at fiction. Lately I’ve been thinking I may have bitten off more than I can chew.
Every day I sit in at my keyboard and the self-doubt channel begins broadcasting. Why in the world did you think you could write a novel? You’ve only written short magazine articles and devotionals before? Do you think you have anything to contribute? Ginger could do a better job on her own. That nasty voice drones on and on, day after day. So far, I haven’t located the remote, so I can’t turn the thing off.
Yesterday, I ignored the broadcast long enough to begin the telephone scene I had glibly told Ginger I could handle. Do you know how hard it is to write a good phone scene? Neither did I until I started writing it. Still, the longer I stuck with it, the more I enjoyed it. I hope to finish the scene today. It would be a lot easier if I could turn off that pesky voice.
As I searched for a picture to accompany this post, I knew what was needed – a picture that conveys the vastness of the horizon on the border of South Dakota and Montana. I remember when I stood on that butte and took that picture, conscious of the grass underfoot, on Chimney Rock to the left and the trees nearby. I saw the haze in the distance, but I didn’t focus on it. Too far away.
The picture helped me understand why I feel so inadequate. My focus has been on the horizon of the novel, a the finished product which months away. But the sense of inadequacy fades when I concentrate on what is close at hand – one small scene that needs my attention today – and no more.
Will you look at that? I found the remote.
Ahhh, quiet.
by jphilo | Oct 3, 2007 | Book Updates
My friend Ginger lives in Idaho. We met a year and a half ago at the Write To Publish conference in Wheaton, Illinois. We became friends when we learned that we had both lived in same remote area near the Montana/South Dakota border. Since Harding County, where I used to live, and Russell County, where she used to live, have a combined population of about 3,000 people we knew our meeting was a divine appointment. So for the past year we’ve been collaborating on a mystery novel set in the area. In fact the picture above, of the Jump Off in Harding County, was taken during a research trip to our old stomping grounds last June.
A few weeks ago, we hit our writing stride. We made daily progress on the novel and were typing toward our goal of having the book half finished by the end of September. But an email on September 23 halted our busy fingers. Ginger’s email said she’d taken her elderly mother to church that morning. Then lunch with Ginger and her husband, her mother went to her own trailer for a nap. A few hours later, when Ginger checked on her, her mother was dead. They think her heart gave out. In today’s email, Ginger said she’s grateful that her mother didn’t suffer. But she misses her every day. It will be a while before she’s ready to move forward with the book.
All that’s happened reminds me that I often live according to whatever path I create for myself. The reality is, that God makes the path I follow. And once in a while He reminds me that when He puts puts me on a road similar to the Jump Off. He lets me see just enough to keep going, but not enough to see the final destination.
I imagine that’s how Ginger feels right now. So I’ll be praying for her as God leads her through this hard time. And one day when she’s healed enough for the journey, we’ll hit the writing road again. Who knows where we’ll end up?
