2011 Readers’ Choice Awards Finalist

2011 Readers’ Choice Awards Finalist

This weekend was a quiet one.

No snowstorms.
No wild animals foraging in the flowerbeds.
No win at the Academy Awards for me again this year.

Since I wasn’t nominated, the loss wasn’t a terrible blow. Not nearly as tough as losing the race against Chuck Cram for class president in fifth grade. Of course I knew that was a lost cause. Our class had more boys than girls, and fifth graders crossing party lines to vote their conscience was about as likely to happen then as in the today’s House and Senate chambers. It’s taken a while to get over the loss, but I’m doing better every day.

My chances for winning the 2011 Readers’ Choice Awards at about.com aren’t too likely either. A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically or Chronically Ill Children is in third place out of five nominees, and the two top vote getters both have almost 2000 more votes than Different Dream.

Because Different Dream is a faith-based book, it’s readership is limited. So being part of a general market contest is a fantastic opportunity to spread the word to a wider audience.  To be honest my goal isn’t to win the contest. My goal is getting the book into the hands of more hurting, confused parents.

The more votes Different Dream gets by March 8, the more it will be noticed. The more it gets noticed, the better. So if you think of it, go to about.com and vote for A Different Dream for My Child once a day through March 8.

I thank you.
My publisher thanks you.
And somewhere, some parent of a child with special needs will thank you.
So much for my acceptance speech!

September Is Only Six Months Away – Recycled

September Is Only Six Months Away – Recycled

One look at this post from February 12, 2011, and I knew it had to be this week’s recycled post. Why? Because last week the editor at Discovery House Publishers said Different Dream Parenting will be released on October 1.

And what did I do upon hearing the news? I panicked, of course.

Apparently, I haven’t progressed much in the two years. It might be a good idea to reread this post daily for about a month. Maybe even memorize it. Certainly keep it in mind for when I get twitchy and owly about what needs to happen before October 1.

Give it a read and see what you think. If you have some advice about how to practice what’s been preaching, leave a comment. Until then, I’ll be breathing deep.

September is Only Six Months Away – Recycled

Yesterday my editor said A Different Dream for My Child will be released sometime in September. Instead of being pleased to have a specific date for scheduling speaking engagements around the release date, for contacting magazine editors willing to run articles related to the book, and to share with my family and friends, I immediately panicked.

September? But it’s only six months away, give or take two weeks. So much needs to be done. There are query letters to magazines, articles to write, a website to build, medical and parent support groups to contact. How can I possibly get it all done while getting Mom’s house ready to sell and helping with her finances, working on the mystery novel with Ginger, writing for Facets and Health Connect, preparing two months worth of kids’ devotions for a new Tyndale House publication, and not neglect my husband, son and daughter? Suddenly, my life seemed as convoluted as some of my sentences, and my undies were definitely in a bunch.

Then I thought of my early days of teaching, when I spent much of the month before school began getting my a hot, stuffy classroom “ready.”  August after August, I worked myself into a frenzy trying to prepare nine months worth of material by the first day of school. After about twenty years (call me a slow learner), I realized that on the first day of school I only needed to be ready for the first day of school, or at the most, for the first week.

Maybe there’s a lesson to be learned from my teaching career. I don’t need to be ready for September in February. I need to be ready for today, for this week at the most. So this afternoon, I’ll look at what needs to be done by September, break everything into doable bits and choose one small thing to tackle tomorrow. My learning curve for the next six months will be high, it’s true, but that’s a whole lot better than twenty years!

The First Draft Is Done!

The First Draft Is Done!

Finally, after months of research and weeks of writing, the first draft of Different Dream Parenting: A Practical Guide to Raising a Child with Special Needs is done. I am now resting easier, knowing the lovely graphic art created by the publisher will have something of substance behind it.

Don’t get me wrong. A boatload of work must be finished before the April 1 deadline – rewriting, fact-checking, proofreading, creating an index. But today, I’m celebrating what has been accomplished, the 24 gorgeous chapters and 6 enchanting appendices which are no longer a wild gleam in my eye.

They are
done,
done,
done,
backed up on three different hard drives.

In honor of the day, which is as bright and sunny as my mood, I’m going to the library to check out a fiction book. I’m gonna escape into some other author’s world for awhile where I can sunbathe on a metaphorical beach, eat bonbons, sip expensive coffee, and take a bubble bath.

I’m gonna
relax,
relax,
relax.
At least until the rewriting, fact-checking, proofreading, and index work starts on Monday.

But for today and for the weekend,
I
am
done.
It feels grand!

Book Proposal – Recycled

Book Proposal – Recycled

Here it is – this week’s recycled blog entry. This one hit cyberspace on January 27 about a year ago. No wonder the subject matter resonated with me. For the past two months, I’ve been consumed with writing the book that came out of the proposal mentioned in the old post.

Surprising how many feelings remain the same a year later, though the rough draft is almost 2/3 complete. The the oh-my-goodness-I-can’t-possibly-fill-this-blank-screen-with-enough-words-to-be-anything-substantial sensation returns with the start of each new chapter. But more than that, my heart still overflows with gratitude for all those who volunteered to share their families’ stories. Their wisdom and perseverance will be the heart of this book, and I’m blessed by the opportunity to share their stories.

But before I go off on the here and now, let’s go back to January 27, 2010 and see what what happening that snowy, snowy day.

Book Proposal Update – Recycled

A burden lifted from my shoulders last week when I mailed my latest book proposal to the editor. Not that this proposal was extra-difficult to write. Once I got past the stages of oh-my-goodness-I-can’t-possibly-fill-this-blank-screen-with-enough-words-to-be-anything-substantial, and how-do-I-organize-this-beast, and why-did-I-think-this-topic-was-a-good-one, it quickly took shape.

Chapter topics to address and resources to include became evident, thanks to three women – Cheryl, Cindy, and Lorie – who shared their struggles as moms of kids with special needs. They words were the hope other parents need to hear. And their experiences created a road map for the common journey parents embark upon when they discover their child has special needs.

Working with them was delightful, as was weaving their stories and suggestions into the proposal. So the sensation of immense relief once the proposal was sent surprised me. Since the relief wasn’t the result of completing a dreaded task, it must have come from fulfilling a responsibility I didn’t feel equipped to handle.

For now, the baton of responsibility has been passed on the publication committee. Since they’re praying about the proposal, along with me and my agent, if they decide I’m up to the task, I’ll take the baton and run with it.

Until they decide, I’m moving on to other things: researching and writing www.DifferentDream.com blog posts, writing articles to promote A Different Dream for My Child, preparing for upcoming speaking engagements, and maybe, just maybe, finding time to work on my new mystery series idea. Hopefully, two things will happen before everything is checked off the list: the publication committee will make a decision and winter will be over.

Either one will make me smile!

The Teddy Bear

The Teddy Bear

Tuesday, while crowing about the cover art for Different Dream Parenting, I hinted about the significance of the teddy bear in the corner. Today’s entry explains that significance.

This story was written shortly after receiving the cover art for my first book, A Different Dream for My Child, in January of 2009. As I wrote, one month after Allen finished treatment for PTSD, we were hopeful but unsure of the treatment’s success. Reading it today, I am reminded of what God has done in our family over the past two years. Indeed, we have much to be grateful for this Thanksgiving Day.

The Teddy Bear

Yesterday my editor emailed the final cover design for my book, A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically or Chronically Ill Children. I opened it, and chills ran down my spine.

The picture of two hands, those of a parent and child, caused the first chill. For months, a similar image had flashed into my mind whenever I tried to picture the book’s cover. The second chill came when I realized the book title was intact. Because of its length, I expected it to be changed. But the designer arranged the title and subtitle so it flows beautifully.

The tiny teddy bear in the top, right corner of the cover made me gasp and brought on the third chill. The little bear was a dead ringer for the one our son received from a neighbor when, at almost three weeks old, he was released from neo-natal intensive care. The little brown bear had a red ribbon around its neck and music box key poking from its back. When our fragile baby, still recovering from surgery, lay in his infant carrier, we would wind the key and perch the bear in front of Allen.

After a few days, his eyes began to search for the bear when he heard the thin strains of Teddy Bears’ Picnic. My heart rejoiced to see our baby aware of the world around him, able to hear and see and seek out the music. The day he raised his small hand and reached for the bear, I gasped. A chill ran down my spine, and voice from deep within reassured me. He’s going to make it through this and so will you. You’re all going to be okay.

Though many unexpected medical and emotional hardships lay ahead for our family and for Allen, those words proved true. Twenty-six years later, we are okay. We have made it through. That’s why the tiny teddy bear in the top right corner of the book’s cover sent a chill down my spine and made me gasp. The little brown bear with a bright red bow around its neck assures me that parents will hear the message in A Different Dream for My Child.

You’re going to make it. No matter how hard things get, no matter how long it takes, you’re not alone. You’re going to be okay.

 

Cock-a-Doodle-Do!

Cock-a-Doodle-Do!

Yesterday, an editor from Discovery House Publishers (DHP) emailed to say the cover design for Different Dream Parenting had been finalized. She also sent a jpeg attachement of the design. I held my breath while clicking it open, certain nothing could top the beautiful cover created for A Different Dream for My Child.

But I was wrong. Way wrong.

The new cover is every bit as lovely and inviting as the first one. The designer even heeded my timid suggestion that the new cover include some elements from the previous book’s cover so the two look like a matched set. Of course, being wholly deficient in the finer points of graphic, I had no idea of how the feat could be achieved. But some nameless artistic whiz did a bang up job, right down to the tiny teddy bear that still sends chills down my spine.

More on that story in another blog entry.

The cover is so good I want to crow with delight. And I’m sorely tempted to strut my stuff, except I don’t have any stuff to strut. The design, no matter how lovely, will look pretty silly if there’s nothing between the front and back covers. Which means it’s time to start writing. But before I get to work, please grant one tiny delight.

Cock-a-doodle-do!