With the release of Daughter of Anasca, this suddenly seems important to say. DoA has many capable female characters, so it's tempting to think I'm all about woman power.
I'm not. I'm about people power.
I don't think woman are oppressed any more than anybody else. I don't think we need special laws, or special interests, or special salaries, or whatever. I think every person is responsible for himself (yes, I even still use the masculine as a generic pronoun because that's how English works). I hate things like that test - whatever it's called, starts with "B" - that women dreamed up to quantify how much time women spend talking to each other about "not men" in movies. Every time I see a reference to that sort of nonsense, I want to put on an extra bra in protest. Stop telling me I'm oppressed. I'm not.
If I'm anything, I'm a female male chauvinist, because I do believe
whenever possible, men should be "in charge." I find it sad that we live
in a culture that thrives on emasculating men. This is a worldview issue for me, created not only by my family of origin, but my training and education. I wish more men would step up and stop letting the women do all the work.
I didn't write DoA as a book about oppressed women overcoming society's unfairness, although I understand if some readers take that away. I wrote about two girls and two boys growing up. I put Cahnar and Spidraax in there because boys grow up, too, and they also have trouble doing it.
That's all I have to say about that. Today, anyway. Breakfast is calling.
Applaud the jellyfish.
Friday, March 27, 2015
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Procrastination or Inspiration?
With the release of Daughter of Anasca and my current Farmville fast, I have no excuse not to be writing. My official WIP is Dangling Justice, the prequel to Star of Justice.
However, I just read a not-good book by a best-selling author about psychics in New Orleans, and it left me with a strong urge to write something better. I haven't felt an urge like this since college, when I listened to secular music and got writing ideas all day long.
TT: I've tried listening to secular music nowadays, but the stuff is so coarse and inappropriate, I don't want to write any stories it might inspire.
The prequel to Dangling Justice, and the story that really started it all, is Past Ties. This idea also sparked 20 years ago, like Daughter of Anasca, and could be considered the first story I ever "finished." It was about 50K words and ended on a cliff-hanger, but I'd never written anything that long before with a continuous timeline.
Past Ties is more sci fi than fantasy, set in future Kansas and involving time travel, psychics and cyborgs, inspired by Arnold Schwartzenegger's Total Recall, Jon Larroquette's Second Sight, and a campy B movie called Jack's Back starring James Spader as identical twins (that remains unavailable on DVD, even though I check Amazon every year). Originally it was set on Mars and Earth. I ultimately scrapped it because a) it was melodramatic crap that served mostly to boost my word count to the magic one million, and b) because I didn't want to do the loads of research necessary for all that egghead stuff.
Anyway, I've realized a couple things. One, I write space opera, not sci fi. I don't claim to prognosticate the future or even accurately describe current scientific possibilities. All I want to do is suggest that certain things might be possible, and hopefully not be too wrong. Two, and I give credit to Kessie Carroll's guest post on NAF for this, I don't have to write a brick to tell this story. It might make a fine novella. I did have plans to write two other books to complete the story, so three novellas might first be ebooks and eventually, a combined print novel.
Finally, and most importantly, Past Ties makes Dangling Justice make sense. It introduces the main characters in their own element and explains why they end up causing so much trouble in Ah'rahk in the first place.
So, there's a good chance Past Ties will appear as an offering to the reading public. It may be the death blow to any future non-fantasy writing attempts on my part, but it might not. I do know a few die hard geeks I suspect would be happy to provide some balance on the science. Or mock the compost out of it.
I'm transferring the file to Scrivener. I'm determined to let go immediately of every 20 year old word that doesn't fit in my new idea of what this story could be. I will accept the challenge. I will Spock my own fiver.
Applaud the jellyfish.
However, I just read a not-good book by a best-selling author about psychics in New Orleans, and it left me with a strong urge to write something better. I haven't felt an urge like this since college, when I listened to secular music and got writing ideas all day long.
TT: I've tried listening to secular music nowadays, but the stuff is so coarse and inappropriate, I don't want to write any stories it might inspire.
The prequel to Dangling Justice, and the story that really started it all, is Past Ties. This idea also sparked 20 years ago, like Daughter of Anasca, and could be considered the first story I ever "finished." It was about 50K words and ended on a cliff-hanger, but I'd never written anything that long before with a continuous timeline.
Past Ties is more sci fi than fantasy, set in future Kansas and involving time travel, psychics and cyborgs, inspired by Arnold Schwartzenegger's Total Recall, Jon Larroquette's Second Sight, and a campy B movie called Jack's Back starring James Spader as identical twins (that remains unavailable on DVD, even though I check Amazon every year). Originally it was set on Mars and Earth. I ultimately scrapped it because a) it was melodramatic crap that served mostly to boost my word count to the magic one million, and b) because I didn't want to do the loads of research necessary for all that egghead stuff.
Anyway, I've realized a couple things. One, I write space opera, not sci fi. I don't claim to prognosticate the future or even accurately describe current scientific possibilities. All I want to do is suggest that certain things might be possible, and hopefully not be too wrong. Two, and I give credit to Kessie Carroll's guest post on NAF for this, I don't have to write a brick to tell this story. It might make a fine novella. I did have plans to write two other books to complete the story, so three novellas might first be ebooks and eventually, a combined print novel.
Finally, and most importantly, Past Ties makes Dangling Justice make sense. It introduces the main characters in their own element and explains why they end up causing so much trouble in Ah'rahk in the first place.
So, there's a good chance Past Ties will appear as an offering to the reading public. It may be the death blow to any future non-fantasy writing attempts on my part, but it might not. I do know a few die hard geeks I suspect would be happy to provide some balance on the science. Or mock the compost out of it.
I'm transferring the file to Scrivener. I'm determined to let go immediately of every 20 year old word that doesn't fit in my new idea of what this story could be. I will accept the challenge. I will Spock my own fiver.
Applaud the jellyfish.
Friday, March 20, 2015
Spock My Fiver
I saw this article on Facebook shortly after the death of Leonard Nimoy.
"Spocking the hell out of fivers" instantly became my happy thought of the day, combining both the idea of the stereotypically infinitely accommodating Canadians bucking the system and my favorite Vulcan (sorry, Tuvok, I loved Spock first) and his foray into the world of bad language (even-numbered Trek films don't suck). It also became my mission.
I began a one-woman campaign to bring "Spock my fiver" into the American lexicon. To do this, I offered definitions. The phrase must be useful, but also respectful of both the human Leonard Nimoy, and the Vulcan philosophy of logic and order.
"Spock my fiver" is the positive, which connotes "icing on the cake." To Spock my fiver is to do me one better, take it to the next level, put bacon gravy on those biscuits. It can also connote friendly one-upmanship, as in "you did that? I can Spock your fiver. I did this."
"Don't Spock my fiver" is the negative, which is still respectful but in the other direction. Telling a story and someone else finishes it, probably better than you would have? "Man, don't Spock my fiver." Akin to "Live long and don't steal my thunder."
I will autograph books to young writers with "Spock my fiver" as an encouragement to dream bigger than my success (not hard at the moment). I've already signed one, matter of fact. I will use it in at least one of my books, right alongside Solar Roadways.
I have made progress. Today, a co-worker used the phrase in context. Several Facebook Friends seem intrigued by the idea. I hope they, too, are spreading the seeds of the Canadian Vulcan fiver mythology. Perhaps, one day, it will find it's way into a Heavens to Betsy book. Dare I dream the Turtle may even have a footnote? What a fiver that would Spock.
Spread the word, my friends. Spock my fiver. Spock the hell out of my fiver.
"Spocking the hell out of fivers" instantly became my happy thought of the day, combining both the idea of the stereotypically infinitely accommodating Canadians bucking the system and my favorite Vulcan (sorry, Tuvok, I loved Spock first) and his foray into the world of bad language (even-numbered Trek films don't suck). It also became my mission.
I began a one-woman campaign to bring "Spock my fiver" into the American lexicon. To do this, I offered definitions. The phrase must be useful, but also respectful of both the human Leonard Nimoy, and the Vulcan philosophy of logic and order.
"Spock my fiver" is the positive, which connotes "icing on the cake." To Spock my fiver is to do me one better, take it to the next level, put bacon gravy on those biscuits. It can also connote friendly one-upmanship, as in "you did that? I can Spock your fiver. I did this."
"Don't Spock my fiver" is the negative, which is still respectful but in the other direction. Telling a story and someone else finishes it, probably better than you would have? "Man, don't Spock my fiver." Akin to "Live long and don't steal my thunder."
I will autograph books to young writers with "Spock my fiver" as an encouragement to dream bigger than my success (not hard at the moment). I've already signed one, matter of fact. I will use it in at least one of my books, right alongside Solar Roadways.
I have made progress. Today, a co-worker used the phrase in context. Several Facebook Friends seem intrigued by the idea. I hope they, too, are spreading the seeds of the Canadian Vulcan fiver mythology. Perhaps, one day, it will find it's way into a Heavens to Betsy book. Dare I dream the Turtle may even have a footnote? What a fiver that would Spock.
Spread the word, my friends. Spock my fiver. Spock the hell out of my fiver.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Daughter of Anasca
It's done. And by "done," I mean Daughter of Anasca is available on Amazon in print and Kindle versions. Unlike Star of Justice, this is a young adult fantasy, suitable for ages 12 and up (maybe younger, depending on the child). I wrote it as a stand-alone, but I have a few ideas that could end up a sequel.
I plan to offer it on Barnes & Noble in print and Nook-compatible, but that "next thing" involves another learning curve. I'll tackle it with the slow and steady approach.
Here's the print link and here's the Kindle link.
This all happened this weekend when, quite ahead of schedule, my second proof copy got delivered on Saturday. Since it looked fine, and I'd done everything else, I clicked "approve proof," and BAM!, it was published. Bit startling, really.
I now have to figure out if there's a way to order bulk copies that doesn't involve me paying taxes twice. Until I've solved that conundrum, which involves reading a 52-page pamphlet (HA!) by the Kansas Dept of Revenue, I won't be ordering bulk books. If you want it now, order it from Amazon, and I'll sign your copy next time we see each other.
I did want to post a little excerpt from the book:
Keep the faith.
I plan to offer it on Barnes & Noble in print and Nook-compatible, but that "next thing" involves another learning curve. I'll tackle it with the slow and steady approach.
Here's the print link and here's the Kindle link.
This all happened this weekend when, quite ahead of schedule, my second proof copy got delivered on Saturday. Since it looked fine, and I'd done everything else, I clicked "approve proof," and BAM!, it was published. Bit startling, really.
I now have to figure out if there's a way to order bulk copies that doesn't involve me paying taxes twice. Until I've solved that conundrum, which involves reading a 52-page pamphlet (HA!) by the Kansas Dept of Revenue, I won't be ordering bulk books. If you want it now, order it from Amazon, and I'll sign your copy next time we see each other.
I did want to post a little excerpt from the book:
Thank you, also, to my fans, whoever you are. This story isn't set in Caissa's world, but I hope you like it, too. My next project is back to Ah'rahk for the Star of Justice prequel.Special ThanksTo my final proof readers, Theresa, Kat and Hilary, who found everything from missing periods to giant plot holes.To my friend, Grace, for all her encouragement and help.To Matt, for swooping in like a tech-wielding superhero,To Larissa, who not only read the first and final drafts, but provided the accountability to finish, andFinally, to my God, for limitless love and grace.
Keep the faith.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Progress Report
You all know I'm trying to self-publish. This is a thing at least a dozen of my author friends have done, so it shouldn't be that hard.
Enter the Turtle.
I am not an autodidact (self-teacher). Thank you, Katherine Coble for an introduction to that word. I am a teacher. I would rather teach a man to fish than fish for him, but everything I know I learned from a teacher somewhere in my life. I don't forge new paths. I don't test every button or option in a program to see what it does. I don't fiddle with every setting because I can't remember how to replicate those results. I follow the manual.
Grace taught me the margins that have worked for her in the 28 (?) books she has published in the last six years. I discovered my ancient Word program doesn't convert to PDF specs that CreateSpace wants. I could just keep sending huge files to all my friends to convert for me, but I don't want to do that for the rest of my publishing life. I found a Friend who helped me find LibreOffice, free software that does convert to CreateSpace specs. Fabulous.
New hurdle: the LibreOffice converted files add 8 pages to the finished CreateSpace project and I can't figure out why, how, or if it matters. It does matter a bit because it makes the book bigger, which affects cost and cover size (a whole other learning curve). Are eight pages that big a deal? Not necessarily, but before I just sigh and accept, I'd kinda like to know what I'm doing or not doing that's causing it.
I'm not suicidally frustrated, like I was when Star of Justice was being prepared. The benefit of total control is I can walk away and sling mulch if I need to. But I really thought this would be easier - the number one cause of conflict in life, by the way: false expectations.
I'm going to keep trying, like Edison with his light bulb, and tonight I'll convert and upload the 18th (at least) attempt in the last six days to CreateSpace. Eventually, by accident, I'll stumble on the right magical formula to please the Machine Overlords, and with my newly acquired experience points, I'll move on in the Publishing level of the writing game I call The Swamp.
On a more satisfying note, God finally provided a dump truck load of free wood chippings on my lawn, so I have plenty of mulch to sling when it all gets too be too much.
Keep the faith.
Enter the Turtle.
I am not an autodidact (self-teacher). Thank you, Katherine Coble for an introduction to that word. I am a teacher. I would rather teach a man to fish than fish for him, but everything I know I learned from a teacher somewhere in my life. I don't forge new paths. I don't test every button or option in a program to see what it does. I don't fiddle with every setting because I can't remember how to replicate those results. I follow the manual.
Grace taught me the margins that have worked for her in the 28 (?) books she has published in the last six years. I discovered my ancient Word program doesn't convert to PDF specs that CreateSpace wants. I could just keep sending huge files to all my friends to convert for me, but I don't want to do that for the rest of my publishing life. I found a Friend who helped me find LibreOffice, free software that does convert to CreateSpace specs. Fabulous.
New hurdle: the LibreOffice converted files add 8 pages to the finished CreateSpace project and I can't figure out why, how, or if it matters. It does matter a bit because it makes the book bigger, which affects cost and cover size (a whole other learning curve). Are eight pages that big a deal? Not necessarily, but before I just sigh and accept, I'd kinda like to know what I'm doing or not doing that's causing it.
I'm not suicidally frustrated, like I was when Star of Justice was being prepared. The benefit of total control is I can walk away and sling mulch if I need to. But I really thought this would be easier - the number one cause of conflict in life, by the way: false expectations.
I'm going to keep trying, like Edison with his light bulb, and tonight I'll convert and upload the 18th (at least) attempt in the last six days to CreateSpace. Eventually, by accident, I'll stumble on the right magical formula to please the Machine Overlords, and with my newly acquired experience points, I'll move on in the Publishing level of the writing game I call The Swamp.
On a more satisfying note, God finally provided a dump truck load of free wood chippings on my lawn, so I have plenty of mulch to sling when it all gets too be too much.
Keep the faith.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
My Greatest Fear
I am a worrier. I try very hard not to be, but I come from a line of worriers so it's a nature and nurture thing. I worry about weather, cost of living, icy roads, and a whole bunch of other things that are outside my control. This leads to me being a control freak about things I can control, like having a multi-step tornado safety plan, and an emergency fund that would make Mrs. Ramsey proud.
However, what's harder to see from the outside is that all my worrying and control freakness stem from a single source: what will happen to my animals if something happens to me.
If I lived alone, I would be carefree. I think I'd be so depressed and miserable on a regular basis I wouldn't get out of bed other than to go to work, but I wouldn't worry anymore. Frankly, I'd be waiting impatiently for God to take me out of this increasingly insane world.
I worry about how I can protect my charges during disaster or emergency. Or Rapture. The Rapture bothers me a lot, but so does being dragged off to jail for being a Christian with my door open, and my little ones left to fend for themselves. That thought makes it hard to breathe on my best day.
They're just things, Turtle.
No. I have things, and I don't care about what happens to those when I die.
Animals are not things to me, no matter what the law says. They're lives. Too many lives, it can be reasonably argued, but lives nonetheless. I won't abandon them in case of fire. I won't get myself downstairs if one of them is upstairs. I won't risk an auto accident if it means I become paraplegic, and they go to the shelter to die ('cause that's what happens to 99% of cats in shelters. They die).
Is this a stupid way to live? Yeah. My head knows that, but my heart runs these things, and I don't know how to control my heart. I can't be the person who thinks only of herself when seven other lives depend on me for their subsistence and overall protection. I don't want to be that person.
So I worry. I know it's a sin. What I don't know is how to apply God's grace to cover my critters. He and I have talked about it a lot, and the conversation shows no sign of concluding.
Just know, if something happens to me, my one and only remaining concern is that my critters be cared for. This is why I made a will. This is why I won't commit suicide (because they wouldn't get their hefty insurance payment that will provide for them for the rest of their natural lives). This is why I wrote this post.
My first Bible study of this year will be "peace." Seek, and you will find. I'm seeking, Lord.
Keep the faith.
However, what's harder to see from the outside is that all my worrying and control freakness stem from a single source: what will happen to my animals if something happens to me.
If I lived alone, I would be carefree. I think I'd be so depressed and miserable on a regular basis I wouldn't get out of bed other than to go to work, but I wouldn't worry anymore. Frankly, I'd be waiting impatiently for God to take me out of this increasingly insane world.
I worry about how I can protect my charges during disaster or emergency. Or Rapture. The Rapture bothers me a lot, but so does being dragged off to jail for being a Christian with my door open, and my little ones left to fend for themselves. That thought makes it hard to breathe on my best day.
They're just things, Turtle.
No. I have things, and I don't care about what happens to those when I die.
Animals are not things to me, no matter what the law says. They're lives. Too many lives, it can be reasonably argued, but lives nonetheless. I won't abandon them in case of fire. I won't get myself downstairs if one of them is upstairs. I won't risk an auto accident if it means I become paraplegic, and they go to the shelter to die ('cause that's what happens to 99% of cats in shelters. They die).
Is this a stupid way to live? Yeah. My head knows that, but my heart runs these things, and I don't know how to control my heart. I can't be the person who thinks only of herself when seven other lives depend on me for their subsistence and overall protection. I don't want to be that person.
So I worry. I know it's a sin. What I don't know is how to apply God's grace to cover my critters. He and I have talked about it a lot, and the conversation shows no sign of concluding.
Just know, if something happens to me, my one and only remaining concern is that my critters be cared for. This is why I made a will. This is why I won't commit suicide (because they wouldn't get their hefty insurance payment that will provide for them for the rest of their natural lives). This is why I wrote this post.
My first Bible study of this year will be "peace." Seek, and you will find. I'm seeking, Lord.
Keep the faith.
Friday, January 9, 2015
Put Up or Shut Up
Tallahassee Florida says it a bit differently, but this isn't Zombieland (yet), and I'm not Tallahassee Florida (yet).
Today is the day I intend to complete publication of Daughter of Anasca. It will be an uphill climb. I have to read 250 pages looking for spots where I foolishly removed hyphens. I have to return to Createspace after four months and remember where I was. I have to return to GIMP after four months and finish off the cover, which I think just involves sealing the layers or whatever it's called when you take all the layers and fuse them together into a single image. Part of me thinks I should save an unsealed version, just in case, but I may have already started when that thought occurred to me. Bit late to close the barn door after the horses have eaten the children. I have to figure out how to get an Amazon created book onto Barnes & Noble's site for Nook readers, although that doesn't have to happen today. Naturally, all of this involves technology, and we all know how well the Turtle does with tech.
However, I'm showered, oiled, and fed (actually, I'm eating while I write this to save time). I'm dressed in my Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe comfy T-shirt, my "I am not the Commonwealth" sweatshirt, yoga pants to avoid binding issues from sitting so long, and my housecoat and thick socks because I'm doing all of this at the desk computer instead of under the electric blanket with the laptop. I have my bifocals on to prevent eyestrain headaches. In short, I am armored to do battle with geek issues.
I took today off because daytime TV on Friday sucks, so I won't be tempted to turn it on. I planted long-growing crops on Farmville so I won't go check on them. The radio is on low, and I will change stations if people start talking in distracting ways. I have healthy snacks, a pile of flavored cocoas and green teas ready to drink, and bottles of Citrus Fresh and Peppermint oils ready to sniff for energy and concentration. I have my favorite pens (Pilot PreciseGrip extra fine 7 pack of colors, including pink and purple) and a fresh notebook ready. I have a spray bottle to hand to ward off unwelcome lap sitters (which I just had to do). I am even prepared to lock the cats in the basement if they all turn into Satan Spawn. I hope they feel this. I also hope the sun comes out so they'll disperse to sleeping sun spots.
I have some short physical tasks planned for when I need to stretch. Finally, but mostly importantly, I've invited God to guide and direct the process, and asked Him to cover my tail when I make whatever mistake I'm going to make today. I'm as ready as I'm going to be.
So that's my day, Deo Volente. Best get to it.
Keep the faith.
PS: Jason Gray's Remind Me Who I Am just came on the radio. I know who I am. It's gonna be a good day.
Today is the day I intend to complete publication of Daughter of Anasca. It will be an uphill climb. I have to read 250 pages looking for spots where I foolishly removed hyphens. I have to return to Createspace after four months and remember where I was. I have to return to GIMP after four months and finish off the cover, which I think just involves sealing the layers or whatever it's called when you take all the layers and fuse them together into a single image. Part of me thinks I should save an unsealed version, just in case, but I may have already started when that thought occurred to me. Bit late to close the barn door after the horses have eaten the children. I have to figure out how to get an Amazon created book onto Barnes & Noble's site for Nook readers, although that doesn't have to happen today. Naturally, all of this involves technology, and we all know how well the Turtle does with tech.
However, I'm showered, oiled, and fed (actually, I'm eating while I write this to save time). I'm dressed in my Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe comfy T-shirt, my "I am not the Commonwealth" sweatshirt, yoga pants to avoid binding issues from sitting so long, and my housecoat and thick socks because I'm doing all of this at the desk computer instead of under the electric blanket with the laptop. I have my bifocals on to prevent eyestrain headaches. In short, I am armored to do battle with geek issues.
I took today off because daytime TV on Friday sucks, so I won't be tempted to turn it on. I planted long-growing crops on Farmville so I won't go check on them. The radio is on low, and I will change stations if people start talking in distracting ways. I have healthy snacks, a pile of flavored cocoas and green teas ready to drink, and bottles of Citrus Fresh and Peppermint oils ready to sniff for energy and concentration. I have my favorite pens (Pilot PreciseGrip extra fine 7 pack of colors, including pink and purple) and a fresh notebook ready. I have a spray bottle to hand to ward off unwelcome lap sitters (which I just had to do). I am even prepared to lock the cats in the basement if they all turn into Satan Spawn. I hope they feel this. I also hope the sun comes out so they'll disperse to sleeping sun spots.
I have some short physical tasks planned for when I need to stretch. Finally, but mostly importantly, I've invited God to guide and direct the process, and asked Him to cover my tail when I make whatever mistake I'm going to make today. I'm as ready as I'm going to be.
So that's my day, Deo Volente. Best get to it.
Keep the faith.
PS: Jason Gray's Remind Me Who I Am just came on the radio. I know who I am. It's gonna be a good day.
Monday, January 5, 2015
Goodbye, 2014, you were OK
Last year wasn't horrible. I could go so far as to say, for me, it was a good year.
Mild weather, no massive losses or traumas, steady job, enough money to pay my bills: what more can I really ask of a year? True, I only harvested six zucchini, but I made a blueberry shelter, strung a fence and lost a pant's size working in The Swamp. Writing goals were almost non-existent, but part of that was intentional. A bit of sabbatical.
So many times I've considered not writing anymore. For all practical purposes, I've adopted a non-writing lifestyle. I'm not driven like I used to be. I have no explanation for this, but it is time to accept that if I am going to write, I must do it without a monkey on my back whispering in my ear. That's OK.
If you know me on Facebook, you know I found an old journal going back to 1996. This "dead inside" feeling has been with me that long. So has my tendency to depression. It's time to accept this is how I am, and move on. Enjoy the little things and all that. The beauty part of living with chronic depression is knowing it comes and goes. Just hold on a little bit, and the chemical wash recedes.
This is not to say don't treat your depression. Depressed people are extremely hard to live with, so don't do that to your loved ones. I self-medicate with St. John's wort, extra sleep, exercise (even daily stretching helps) and my new Winter best friend, vitamin D 5000 IUs per day. I am saying if you live on the line, don't let it become your only focus.
The world hasn't ended, so I may as well continue to play along. I'll never get anywhere if I don't start, right?
Keep the faith.
Mild weather, no massive losses or traumas, steady job, enough money to pay my bills: what more can I really ask of a year? True, I only harvested six zucchini, but I made a blueberry shelter, strung a fence and lost a pant's size working in The Swamp. Writing goals were almost non-existent, but part of that was intentional. A bit of sabbatical.
So many times I've considered not writing anymore. For all practical purposes, I've adopted a non-writing lifestyle. I'm not driven like I used to be. I have no explanation for this, but it is time to accept that if I am going to write, I must do it without a monkey on my back whispering in my ear. That's OK.
If you know me on Facebook, you know I found an old journal going back to 1996. This "dead inside" feeling has been with me that long. So has my tendency to depression. It's time to accept this is how I am, and move on. Enjoy the little things and all that. The beauty part of living with chronic depression is knowing it comes and goes. Just hold on a little bit, and the chemical wash recedes.
This is not to say don't treat your depression. Depressed people are extremely hard to live with, so don't do that to your loved ones. I self-medicate with St. John's wort, extra sleep, exercise (even daily stretching helps) and my new Winter best friend, vitamin D 5000 IUs per day. I am saying if you live on the line, don't let it become your only focus.
The world hasn't ended, so I may as well continue to play along. I'll never get anywhere if I don't start, right?
Keep the faith.
Friday, January 2, 2015
Why Tiny Homes Are Fascinating But Not For Me
I own an 823 square foot house with an unfinished basement of equal size. I live in about 800 feet of that, and use the rest for storage or cat space. Frankly, the cat space is more important. I wish the space was distributed differently, and I often consider and occasionally implement ways to utilize the space I have more effectively (the loft bed being an excellent example).
Katherine Coble is fascinated with tiny houses, and posted this on FB yesterday. She doesn't want to live there, but admires the ingenuity.
I watched the 5 minute video, and shrank back with a sort of mental claustrophobia every time they demonstrated the "combination" of ways the space could be used. They can attempt to reassure me as often as they wish how liveable the space is, but I saw a hotel room for either the very poor or very rich.
No fridge or freezer means I'm either grocery shopping every day, eating out every day, or making ramen for every meal. A four foot wardrobe means I wear uniforms to work and the same shirt and pants every weekend, with possibly one nice church outfit. I can also have only one heavy coat. My library would have to rotate out on a monthly basis. I could own no knickknacks, no musical instruments other than a harmonica, no craft supplies, and no comfortable seating. In short, the entire space requires me to live in a city where I am completely dependent on what I can buy or rent from others, like food, transportation and a padded chair. This is anathema to me.
I abhor McMansions, too, so please don't think I object to a simple lifestyle using available materials. I can only say I am too American, too big-sky Kansan to consider life in an urban shoebox appealing.
Plus, there is no space for a litterbox in this lifestyle. I can't be a part of a life with only outside cats.
Keep the faith.
Katherine Coble is fascinated with tiny houses, and posted this on FB yesterday. She doesn't want to live there, but admires the ingenuity.
I watched the 5 minute video, and shrank back with a sort of mental claustrophobia every time they demonstrated the "combination" of ways the space could be used. They can attempt to reassure me as often as they wish how liveable the space is, but I saw a hotel room for either the very poor or very rich.
No fridge or freezer means I'm either grocery shopping every day, eating out every day, or making ramen for every meal. A four foot wardrobe means I wear uniforms to work and the same shirt and pants every weekend, with possibly one nice church outfit. I can also have only one heavy coat. My library would have to rotate out on a monthly basis. I could own no knickknacks, no musical instruments other than a harmonica, no craft supplies, and no comfortable seating. In short, the entire space requires me to live in a city where I am completely dependent on what I can buy or rent from others, like food, transportation and a padded chair. This is anathema to me.
I abhor McMansions, too, so please don't think I object to a simple lifestyle using available materials. I can only say I am too American, too big-sky Kansan to consider life in an urban shoebox appealing.
Plus, there is no space for a litterbox in this lifestyle. I can't be a part of a life with only outside cats.
Keep the faith.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
People Are Hard
Why did God tell us to love our fellow humans? It's too hard.
I suppose He did it because only He can do it. It's one of those things we can't do on our own. It reminds us that we can only love others through Him.
People are hard. Even the people I love dearly disappoint me on occasion. The people I barely know irritate me constantly. I read blog posts or FB comments and inevitably someone says something that makes me want to walk away from all humanity, sometimes in disgust, sometimes just from exhaustion.
It's hard to remember I'm annoying, too. That my existence or beliefs may irritate the snot out of someone else. That God made us both and instead of being irritated by our differences, I should study them and consider what that says about our Creator, and be grateful I'm not alone in the room.
Except I often prefer to be alone in the room. One of the reasons I'm single.
Christians don't have the luxury of being alone. Jesus actually commands us to meet together often, for fellowship and building up. I know I'm ignoring God when I don't do that, and I know it's dangerous to ignore God. I'm His slave. He can use whatever means He wants to bring about my obedience.
Oh, but my Lord, people are hard. Way harder than cats, even though they're often similar.
Keep the faith.
I suppose He did it because only He can do it. It's one of those things we can't do on our own. It reminds us that we can only love others through Him.
People are hard. Even the people I love dearly disappoint me on occasion. The people I barely know irritate me constantly. I read blog posts or FB comments and inevitably someone says something that makes me want to walk away from all humanity, sometimes in disgust, sometimes just from exhaustion.
It's hard to remember I'm annoying, too. That my existence or beliefs may irritate the snot out of someone else. That God made us both and instead of being irritated by our differences, I should study them and consider what that says about our Creator, and be grateful I'm not alone in the room.
Except I often prefer to be alone in the room. One of the reasons I'm single.
Christians don't have the luxury of being alone. Jesus actually commands us to meet together often, for fellowship and building up. I know I'm ignoring God when I don't do that, and I know it's dangerous to ignore God. I'm His slave. He can use whatever means He wants to bring about my obedience.
Oh, but my Lord, people are hard. Way harder than cats, even though they're often similar.
Keep the faith.
Monday, December 22, 2014
Pre-Publishing Checklist
I must first say the search bar on this blog is the worst I've ever used. As in, I don't think it's even trying to find the words I type into it. Wow. I finally had to use Google to get the link to the original article. Fail, blogspot, although I still love you for many reasons.
Ok, on to topic.
I posted the meat of this June 6, 2012 after Star of Justice came out. Took me forever to find it again, so I'll print it this time and put it in my publishing notebook. Yeah, I have a publishing notebook. If it took you four years between books, you'd want better notes, too.
1) Run spell check on the entire document. Especially important for made-up names. Just be sure to spell them correctly the first time. This brings me to the addendum to 1): pay attention to spell check while running it.
2) Run grammar check on the entire document. This one will have you banging your head over every fragment of dialogue, but it will catch some (few) things. Not as many as you might hope. I also never trust its suggestions, but it's a good way to make sure you're saying what you mean to say.
3) Run "find" for everything you can think of, in an orderly fashion, with a checklist. In fact, 1) should probably be "keep a checklist of things to check." Extra spaces, extra punctuation, words that should be italicized or capitalized. Words that shouldn't be italicized or capitalized. If you think of it, write it down and "find" it. Every time.
4) Keep a list of things to check and check them off when you've checked them. I found a couple of things I meant to check or change, yet apparently failed to check or change. Do you know how irritating it is to think of doing something and fail to actually do it? Yeah, you probably do.
5) Read the entire document (yes, I mean that) in a format other than the one you normally use. Really read it, too, not just skimming. I spotted the missing period while reading Star of Justice on my Kindle. Stupid me failed to note the spot, and despite my best efforts, grammar check and "find," that period insists on remaining missing. I figure it's God's way of humbling me.
6) Ask someone else to help. If you haven't abused your friends, someone will be willing to take a look at your final draft and notice the stuff you miss. If you have a brilliant Little Sister like I do, she'll even take a pic of the problem and text it to you.
Well, this checklist ain't gonna check itself off. Got a book edit to finish.
Keep the faith.
Ok, on to topic.
I posted the meat of this June 6, 2012 after Star of Justice came out. Took me forever to find it again, so I'll print it this time and put it in my publishing notebook. Yeah, I have a publishing notebook. If it took you four years between books, you'd want better notes, too.
1) Run spell check on the entire document. Especially important for made-up names. Just be sure to spell them correctly the first time. This brings me to the addendum to 1): pay attention to spell check while running it.
2) Run grammar check on the entire document. This one will have you banging your head over every fragment of dialogue, but it will catch some (few) things. Not as many as you might hope. I also never trust its suggestions, but it's a good way to make sure you're saying what you mean to say.
3) Run "find" for everything you can think of, in an orderly fashion, with a checklist. In fact, 1) should probably be "keep a checklist of things to check." Extra spaces, extra punctuation, words that should be italicized or capitalized. Words that shouldn't be italicized or capitalized. If you think of it, write it down and "find" it. Every time.
4) Keep a list of things to check and check them off when you've checked them. I found a couple of things I meant to check or change, yet apparently failed to check or change. Do you know how irritating it is to think of doing something and fail to actually do it? Yeah, you probably do.
5) Read the entire document (yes, I mean that) in a format other than the one you normally use. Really read it, too, not just skimming. I spotted the missing period while reading Star of Justice on my Kindle. Stupid me failed to note the spot, and despite my best efforts, grammar check and "find," that period insists on remaining missing. I figure it's God's way of humbling me.
6) Ask someone else to help. If you haven't abused your friends, someone will be willing to take a look at your final draft and notice the stuff you miss. If you have a brilliant Little Sister like I do, she'll even take a pic of the problem and text it to you.
Well, this checklist ain't gonna check itself off. Got a book edit to finish.
Keep the faith.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
I Hate "Worship"
Had an experience at work that crystallized this thought for me. I was asked to help lead in the singing of Christmas carols at work. Not a problem. I have decades of experience not only with singing in front of people but with leading worship. Part of a youth in lay ministry.
It became a problem when I walked into the party room to see the guy who would be playing guitar setting up what looked like a karoke stage with three mics, an electric guitar (silly me. My brain didn't go there), and a teleprompter. We had no song sheets for the folks who would be singing with us, and we weren't going to practice ahead of time. My control issues gland immediately started secreting. As I was not "in charge" of this venture, I did not take over as was my urge, but my brain hopped into overdrive to simultaneously begin planning for every horrible contingency while not appearing to panic, just in case no one was in charge of this venture.
TT: I sadly have a great deal of experience with "group" activities that are just a bunch of people who "want to help but not lead." I consider many of those people utterly useless in such situations. Harsh? Yes. True? Also, yes.
Turned out, the guitarist had canned music to go with the teleprompter words, but it was exactly in my breaking range, so I couldn't sing for the first song. That didn't matter much because the music was so loud, I couldn't hear myself anyway. I didn't know the second song, and neither did anyone else in what had become "the audience" because I watched their lips not moving. By the fourth song, I decided to "bring out the clown" and camped it up as much as I could, hoping to salvage what I frame as a total fiasco. A fiasco I can't forget, because it's bothered me all weekend. I'm sharing it with you in the hopes this will finally put it to bed.
Please don't think I blame the guitarist. He was doing his best in a bad situation. Just like the rest of us.
My whole issue with today's church music slammed into my stomach. The band wanna-be's who sing their weird harmonies on stage with deafening instruments and songs that not only don't include music for those who can read notes but change every week so we can't even learn it by rote. It's not possible to have group singing when the group consists of the five to seven people on stage. It angers me enough I don't go to church anymore to worship.
Join the choir? What choir? I don't want to be part of the band, and I don't want to be a groupie. I want to use the voice, and the brain, and the ears God gave me to tell Him what I think of Him, and I want to hear myself and the people around me as they do the same. Call me old-fashioned. It's like Worship Group has become the Singing Nanny for the Church. Don't worry, little sheep. We'll sing for you. God gifted us with talent, so don't you worry your off-key heads. We've got it handled. And we've made it loud enough we don't have to hear you when you miss those notes you didn't know were coming.
TT: Wow. Didn't know my vitriol had reached those levels. Sorry.
Anyway, should singing at work take place next year, and I be involved, I will exercise my dominance and create a Christmas caroling atmosphere with the words on a projector, and audience requests, and no electric anything other than the computer I use to Google-search lyrics. I'm not a lounge singer, and you're not my audience. We are in this together, and I'm sorry I helped lead you to believe otherwise.
Keep the faith.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Ignore Your Feelings
We live in a society of "how do you feel about that?" "Follow your heart." "Do what makes you happy." It's called post-modernism, and it's a rejection of Truth as an absolute.
Problem with that philosophy is feelings are subjective. It may feel great to eat as much cake as you want in (let's be nice) an evening, but keep that up night after night, and you'll ruin your health, even if it makes you happy at the time. The immediacy of the happy feeling doesn't take into account how bad you'll feel later, even a short time later.
While I consider this a profound, life-guiding truth, I'm more complaining about my reaction to weighing myself this weekend. That Maintain Don't Gain challenge I told you about offers an extra credit point for weighing in once a week. I'm not required to record the result, and I don't have to do it, but I had access to a scale so I weighed myself. And discovered I've gained 5 lbs, according to the scale.
I know this is 5 lbs of muscle. It has to be, because I've been exercising 30 minutes nearly every day for 3 weeks while avoiding sugary snacks. It could also be the layers of winter clothing adding weight. Doesn't matter, though, because when I saw that extra 5 lbs, my feelings said, "That's it. You've worked this hard to gain weight? Time to quit. Go eat a dozen of those cookies you're here to bake and screw the challenge. You can find your 5 points some other way."
Because I ignored my feelings, I didn't eat a dozen cookies. I didn't eat one, actually, although I did lick some dough off my fingers at one point. Yes, I washed my hands before going back into the batch. I'm not going to quit working out. I'm not going to stop the challenge. I am going to start measuring my waist instead of stepping on the scale. I don't need that extra point, and I certainly don't need such an emotional downer in the middle of the challenge.
In case you haven't figured it out, scales are liars. If you are trying to be healthy, don't trust your scale to measure success. Trust your clothes, your breathing when taking steps or walking to your car, and the encouraging remarks of friends and family. A measuring tape is pretty accurate, too, if you're not obsessive about it.
Keep the faith.
Problem with that philosophy is feelings are subjective. It may feel great to eat as much cake as you want in (let's be nice) an evening, but keep that up night after night, and you'll ruin your health, even if it makes you happy at the time. The immediacy of the happy feeling doesn't take into account how bad you'll feel later, even a short time later.
While I consider this a profound, life-guiding truth, I'm more complaining about my reaction to weighing myself this weekend. That Maintain Don't Gain challenge I told you about offers an extra credit point for weighing in once a week. I'm not required to record the result, and I don't have to do it, but I had access to a scale so I weighed myself. And discovered I've gained 5 lbs, according to the scale.
I know this is 5 lbs of muscle. It has to be, because I've been exercising 30 minutes nearly every day for 3 weeks while avoiding sugary snacks. It could also be the layers of winter clothing adding weight. Doesn't matter, though, because when I saw that extra 5 lbs, my feelings said, "That's it. You've worked this hard to gain weight? Time to quit. Go eat a dozen of those cookies you're here to bake and screw the challenge. You can find your 5 points some other way."
Because I ignored my feelings, I didn't eat a dozen cookies. I didn't eat one, actually, although I did lick some dough off my fingers at one point. Yes, I washed my hands before going back into the batch. I'm not going to quit working out. I'm not going to stop the challenge. I am going to start measuring my waist instead of stepping on the scale. I don't need that extra point, and I certainly don't need such an emotional downer in the middle of the challenge.
In case you haven't figured it out, scales are liars. If you are trying to be healthy, don't trust your scale to measure success. Trust your clothes, your breathing when taking steps or walking to your car, and the encouraging remarks of friends and family. A measuring tape is pretty accurate, too, if you're not obsessive about it.
Keep the faith.
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
I'm Getting There
I make a bunch of big promises and then stop blogging.
As Murphy would agree, once you have a plan, life makes other plans for you. This is good news for once, as the other plans life has seem to be actually finishing Daughter of Anasca.
Yes, while contemplating something completely different, I figured out how to solve my unhappiness with the current ending of my I-want-to-be-soon-published WIP (as opposed to my still-in-first-draft-stage WIP that waits until I'm done with DoA). The blog will take a back seat until the rewrite and final edits on the last 100 pages are done and that sucker is uploaded to Amazon whatever it is I'm using to self-publish. CreateSpace, maybe? Can't remember at the moment.
My deadline for publication is Dec 20, the last day of Autumn 2014. Best get to it.
Keep the faith.
As Murphy would agree, once you have a plan, life makes other plans for you. This is good news for once, as the other plans life has seem to be actually finishing Daughter of Anasca.
Yes, while contemplating something completely different, I figured out how to solve my unhappiness with the current ending of my I-want-to-be-soon-published WIP (as opposed to my still-in-first-draft-stage WIP that waits until I'm done with DoA). The blog will take a back seat until the rewrite and final edits on the last 100 pages are done and that sucker is uploaded to Amazon whatever it is I'm using to self-publish. CreateSpace, maybe? Can't remember at the moment.
My deadline for publication is Dec 20, the last day of Autumn 2014. Best get to it.
Keep the faith.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
The Mustache Dream
Tired of me yet? My biggest fear is not that you will tire of me, but that I'll make this revelation so complicated and enormous it will become burdensome instead of freeing. I'd be tempted to stop, except for the mustache dream.
Two days after the election, and two posts later, I dreamed I had a Sam Elliott-Tom Selleck sized walrus mustache. For some reason, it was blonde, but I don't believe that has anything to do with anything. I shaved that sucker off as fast as I could, and it took a ridiculously long time and left a pile of luscious blonde locks on the floor.
While I don't ascribe to Freud (or Jung) or their theories about dream interpretation (I'm was a Minuchin gal myself in practice), I do believe the brain is complicated and occasionally expresses things in ways we don't immediately recognize. This is all rationalization-speak for why I went to Dream Moods dream dictionary to see what they say the mustache was all about.
With my subconscious' full approval, then, I continue this self-imposed quest of cultural influence on an infinitesimal scale. It may only be to cement those beliefs in my own mind. That's OK.
And because my curiosity got the better of me again, I looked up the blonde thing.
There you have it. I'm also supposed to keep it light and funny. I'll do my best.
Keep the faith.
Two days after the election, and two posts later, I dreamed I had a Sam Elliott-Tom Selleck sized walrus mustache. For some reason, it was blonde, but I don't believe that has anything to do with anything. I shaved that sucker off as fast as I could, and it took a ridiculously long time and left a pile of luscious blonde locks on the floor.
While I don't ascribe to Freud (or Jung) or their theories about dream interpretation (I'm was a Minuchin gal myself in practice), I do believe the brain is complicated and occasionally expresses things in ways we don't immediately recognize. This is all rationalization-speak for why I went to Dream Moods dream dictionary to see what they say the mustache was all about.
To dream that you have a mustache when you don't really have one signifies that you are hiding an aspect of yourself. You are putting on a disguise or showing a different aspect of your personality. If you are a woman and dream that you have a mustache, then it indicates that you are expressing your power through your words and your verbal expression.
To dream that you shave off your mustache denotes that you are revealing your true self. You no longer have to hide under some disguise or some shield.Interesting. Days after deciding to consciously express my Biblical worldview and conservative values on my blog, I dream this. I don't know how they draw their conclusions, but I'm a little impressed.
With my subconscious' full approval, then, I continue this self-imposed quest of cultural influence on an infinitesimal scale. It may only be to cement those beliefs in my own mind. That's OK.
And because my curiosity got the better of me again, I looked up the blonde thing.
To dream that you dye your hair blonde indicates that you literally need to lighten up and quit being so serious all the time. Try to be more upbeat.
There you have it. I'm also supposed to keep it light and funny. I'll do my best.
Keep the faith.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Maintain, Don't Gain
My insurance plan offers a substantial reduction in premiums if I "earn" points the previous year through health "challenges." I have no problem with employers or insurance companies offering incentives to encourage healthy lifestyles, thus reducing the need for preventable health-related expenses and keeping overall health care costs down for every customer. Bribes work. Even Proverbs agrees with that (Prov 17:8). Earning these points has never been an issue for me because, by their definitions, I'm a healthy person.
The point requirements were changed this year (as is their right). I have to do a little more to qualify than usual. In theory, this is not a problem because, again, I'm a healthy person. However, I'm also a person who doesn't like anyone "in my business," including my health insurance company. I resent checking in with my daily healthy choices.
Being a mature adult who wants that discounted premium, I am adapting and participating in one of their challenges to get the extra points I need. It was a personal goal I made months ago when I got my pants altered after losing all the weight during the spring, so it isn't out of my way to participate in the "Maintain, Don't Gain" during the holidays. I get daily points for each of the following:
I'm thinking about it way too much, you say. You think about it for a while, and tell me if I'm wrong. This is the "freedom above all" leaning of my conservative mind, the part I categorize as "Libertarian" because it's inclined to be contrary in the name of freedom, and prefer stubborn resistance to reasonable cooperation because cooperation leads to dependence and that must be avoided at all costs.
Anyway, I'm watching what I eat and using that 30 minutes of exercise to burn off my irritation at having to report it, and, I expect, I'll lose weight over the next 6 weeks. Which will irritate me, too, because that's not the goal. Welcome to my OCD hell.
Keep the faith.
The point requirements were changed this year (as is their right). I have to do a little more to qualify than usual. In theory, this is not a problem because, again, I'm a healthy person. However, I'm also a person who doesn't like anyone "in my business," including my health insurance company. I resent checking in with my daily healthy choices.
Being a mature adult who wants that discounted premium, I am adapting and participating in one of their challenges to get the extra points I need. It was a personal goal I made months ago when I got my pants altered after losing all the weight during the spring, so it isn't out of my way to participate in the "Maintain, Don't Gain" during the holidays. I get daily points for each of the following:
- Exercising 30 minutes or more
- Eating a healthy breakfast
- Eating a healthy lunch
- Limiting treat foods to 1 serving or less
- Limiting alcoholic or sugary beverages to 1 serving or less
I'm thinking about it way too much, you say. You think about it for a while, and tell me if I'm wrong. This is the "freedom above all" leaning of my conservative mind, the part I categorize as "Libertarian" because it's inclined to be contrary in the name of freedom, and prefer stubborn resistance to reasonable cooperation because cooperation leads to dependence and that must be avoided at all costs.
Anyway, I'm watching what I eat and using that 30 minutes of exercise to burn off my irritation at having to report it, and, I expect, I'll lose weight over the next 6 weeks. Which will irritate me, too, because that's not the goal. Welcome to my OCD hell.
Keep the faith.
Friday, November 21, 2014
Point of View
Point of View is a daily talk show whose motto is "Defending Family, Faith and Freedom." The show is over 20 years old and used to air on a radio station here in Topeka until that station changed hands and formatting. I wasn't willing to give up the show, so I started listening to the broadcast on the internet.
The best day of my life was the day I met host Kerby Anderson in person, and got to hear him interview Kris Kobach, then running for Kansas' Secretary of State. Click the link to read about that. It seems tame now when I think of how pumped I still am about that day.
I listened to Point of View for years until I changed to a job where I can't listen at work.
The show is available for download, and they have a way to listen with your phone, but I'm the Turtle, and I don't use tech well. I stopped listening for nearly three years, although I continued to support the show monthly. They were the first ministry I ever donated to, and I had no qualms the quality would change just because I wasn't listening.
I was right. As part of my new year's resolutions (which for me started when my boss Kris Kobach was reelected for a second term as Secretary of State - Go, Kris!), I decided to give up the useless hour and a half of TV sitcom reruns I'd been watching after work, and replace it with a Point of View episode from the website pointofview.net.
And there they are. All my old friends, mentors, brothers and sisters on the front line of the culture war, examining current events under the lens of a Biblical worldview. Highlighting ways to spread God's love and light in the darkness. Modeling how to disagree without being disagreeable. Daily illustrating, time and again, my own views of what it means to be a Christian, to be a conservative, and to be compassionate without compromise.
I strongly encourage you to make Point of View part of your life. I have no doubt they will bless and challenge you.
Keep the faith.
The best day of my life was the day I met host Kerby Anderson in person, and got to hear him interview Kris Kobach, then running for Kansas' Secretary of State. Click the link to read about that. It seems tame now when I think of how pumped I still am about that day.
I listened to Point of View for years until I changed to a job where I can't listen at work.
The show is available for download, and they have a way to listen with your phone, but I'm the Turtle, and I don't use tech well. I stopped listening for nearly three years, although I continued to support the show monthly. They were the first ministry I ever donated to, and I had no qualms the quality would change just because I wasn't listening.
I was right. As part of my new year's resolutions (which for me started when my boss Kris Kobach was reelected for a second term as Secretary of State - Go, Kris!), I decided to give up the useless hour and a half of TV sitcom reruns I'd been watching after work, and replace it with a Point of View episode from the website pointofview.net.
And there they are. All my old friends, mentors, brothers and sisters on the front line of the culture war, examining current events under the lens of a Biblical worldview. Highlighting ways to spread God's love and light in the darkness. Modeling how to disagree without being disagreeable. Daily illustrating, time and again, my own views of what it means to be a Christian, to be a conservative, and to be compassionate without compromise.
I strongly encourage you to make Point of View part of your life. I have no doubt they will bless and challenge you.
Keep the faith.
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
The Second Punch
Punch number two came about after watching, of all things, Babylon 5. Yes, I watch Babylon 5. I consider it the soap opera version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
The Minbari are my favorite race. They do everything in threes, including their caste system: warrior, worker and religious. The main character on the show, Delenn, is of the religious caste, so we see a lot of how those folks live.
The purpose of the religious caste is to express the religion of the Minbari, which is, in typical sci-fi fashion (if the goal isn't mocking religion in general, that is), an androgynous mismash of one-with-the-universe, reincarnation, karma kind of stuff.
Delenn is a kind of priestess, being high up the religious hierarchy, and everything she does expresses religious significance. This really comes home during her courtship with John Sheridan, but it's visible in most episodes. She's like a woman monk who can marry.
It got me thinking that if this fictional character could live her entire life with an active awareness and implementation of her religion, why don't I?
Yes, I know she's fictional, but I watch these shows because they make me think about my own life, so bear with me.
I have a real religion, and relationship, with Christ. Why is that not a deliberate part of my day? Praying, study of my holy book, applying what I study, seeking a oneness with Christ instead of the universe. Why couldn't I be as open and nonchalant about that as the Minbari are? No one looks twice at Delenn when she does her religious stuff. Yeah, yeah, she's Minbari, but the concept isn't that far off. The only downside I could see was starting. I might get some odd looks at first, but people would get used to it.
I started. I started practicing my faith openly, with references to God and Jesus, with prayers, with attributing my actions to One above me. Yeah, I got a few looks at first, but practice makes easier, and nowadays people don't blink twice when I bring Him up. In fact, I've had more opportunities to witness than ever before, and in far more natural circumstances than meeting that stranger on the bus.
The hard part is the accountability. When I screw up, God gets the blame. I figure He's a big boy. He can handle it.
Keep the faith.
The Minbari are my favorite race. They do everything in threes, including their caste system: warrior, worker and religious. The main character on the show, Delenn, is of the religious caste, so we see a lot of how those folks live.
The purpose of the religious caste is to express the religion of the Minbari, which is, in typical sci-fi fashion (if the goal isn't mocking religion in general, that is), an androgynous mismash of one-with-the-universe, reincarnation, karma kind of stuff.
Delenn is a kind of priestess, being high up the religious hierarchy, and everything she does expresses religious significance. This really comes home during her courtship with John Sheridan, but it's visible in most episodes. She's like a woman monk who can marry.
It got me thinking that if this fictional character could live her entire life with an active awareness and implementation of her religion, why don't I?
Yes, I know she's fictional, but I watch these shows because they make me think about my own life, so bear with me.
I have a real religion, and relationship, with Christ. Why is that not a deliberate part of my day? Praying, study of my holy book, applying what I study, seeking a oneness with Christ instead of the universe. Why couldn't I be as open and nonchalant about that as the Minbari are? No one looks twice at Delenn when she does her religious stuff. Yeah, yeah, she's Minbari, but the concept isn't that far off. The only downside I could see was starting. I might get some odd looks at first, but people would get used to it.
I started. I started practicing my faith openly, with references to God and Jesus, with prayers, with attributing my actions to One above me. Yeah, I got a few looks at first, but practice makes easier, and nowadays people don't blink twice when I bring Him up. In fact, I've had more opportunities to witness than ever before, and in far more natural circumstances than meeting that stranger on the bus.
The hard part is the accountability. When I screw up, God gets the blame. I figure He's a big boy. He can handle it.
Keep the faith.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
One of A One-Two Punch
I used to be a quiet Christian. I behaved myself and acted like a "good" person (I can't think that word anymore without hearing Jesus ask, "Why do you call me 'good?' Is anyone good but God?"), and figured people would know I did it because I'm a Christian.
I failed to reason how people would know that if I never mentioned Christ.
Then I read a primer on Islam from something like the Islamic Center for Muslim Outreach. I have it around here somewhere, but I'm too lazy to go find it. A totally legitimate, slightly more than a pamphlet about the seven pillars of Islam, and why I'd want to be a Muslim. I'd never seen a brochure for another religion, so I read it. And got a little convicted in my own religion.
Islam has some things going for it. Daily charity, for one. Respect for their holy book (According to the brochure, the Koran should be kept in a special place higher than anything else in the house and read through entirely every month. It's a bit smaller than the Bible, so this isn't as scary as it sounds). Sharing of their faith. Muslims are encouraged to proselytize.
Christians are encouraged to share our faith, too, by Jesus Himself in the Great Commission, if you want only one example, but we have so much else in the Bible to study and emulate some of us overlook that one.
So I'm pondering this book on Islam, and wondering, if they willingly, openly speak about a god that I believe is false, why am I hesitant to speak about the One I believe is true? That is the difference as I see it. My God actually exists. That's why I serve Him. If I didn't believe that, I'd do something easier with my life. Or I'd be a Muslim. Or a Wiccan. I have an affinity for the Wiccan worldview. It's very peaceful.
But I chose (and still choose) Christianity. Why was I silent about it?
I'm out of space, so I'll give you the second punch tomorrow.
Keep the faith.
I failed to reason how people would know that if I never mentioned Christ.
Then I read a primer on Islam from something like the Islamic Center for Muslim Outreach. I have it around here somewhere, but I'm too lazy to go find it. A totally legitimate, slightly more than a pamphlet about the seven pillars of Islam, and why I'd want to be a Muslim. I'd never seen a brochure for another religion, so I read it. And got a little convicted in my own religion.
Islam has some things going for it. Daily charity, for one. Respect for their holy book (According to the brochure, the Koran should be kept in a special place higher than anything else in the house and read through entirely every month. It's a bit smaller than the Bible, so this isn't as scary as it sounds). Sharing of their faith. Muslims are encouraged to proselytize.
Christians are encouraged to share our faith, too, by Jesus Himself in the Great Commission, if you want only one example, but we have so much else in the Bible to study and emulate some of us overlook that one.
So I'm pondering this book on Islam, and wondering, if they willingly, openly speak about a god that I believe is false, why am I hesitant to speak about the One I believe is true? That is the difference as I see it. My God actually exists. That's why I serve Him. If I didn't believe that, I'd do something easier with my life. Or I'd be a Muslim. Or a Wiccan. I have an affinity for the Wiccan worldview. It's very peaceful.
But I chose (and still choose) Christianity. Why was I silent about it?
I'm out of space, so I'll give you the second punch tomorrow.
Keep the faith.
Monday, November 17, 2014
Organizing My Thoughts
Last week I started a post on a very specific thought prompted by something on FB. In the course of writing, I realized a few things.
One, worldview is almost impossible to quantify. Every sentence I wrote led to another brick in the foundation of my worldview, and it felt like all of them needed explaining. For those who have a similar worldview, the explanations don't have to be lengthy, but for those on the 180 from my worldview, I'm talking utter nonsense.
Two, it's a bit harder than I thought it would be to focus on why I consider myself a conservative without slinging a few snarky arrows at the other side. I am determined to do it, however. Kerby Anderson regularly says we can disagree without being disagreeable, and the fastest way to shut down communication is to fail to show respect to the humanity of the opponent.
Three, I need to organize my thoughts. I don't want to explore every issue in excruciating detail, but I don't want to cause more confusion, either. I am a creature of order. I'd like a little order in my presentation.
So, I made notes, and I hope to present a brief and somewhat ordered account of why I believe and behave the way I do. Much like Luke did when writing his Gospel. Except I don't claim this is divinely inspired. I'm crazy, but there are levels of craziness. Mine is mostly related to cats.
For those worried about my fiction writing being sidelined by this new focus, rejoice. I'm on the last leg of Daughter of Anasca edits (with some help from My Dear Friend as gamma reader), and I've got a plan to finish Dangling Justice, which is a first. It's as though I've been trying so hard to be non-offensive, I'd stopped being able to say anything.
As I once told her, and My Dear Friend reminded me, "You can be my friend, or you can not be offended, but you can't be both." True dat.
Keep the faith.
One, worldview is almost impossible to quantify. Every sentence I wrote led to another brick in the foundation of my worldview, and it felt like all of them needed explaining. For those who have a similar worldview, the explanations don't have to be lengthy, but for those on the 180 from my worldview, I'm talking utter nonsense.
Two, it's a bit harder than I thought it would be to focus on why I consider myself a conservative without slinging a few snarky arrows at the other side. I am determined to do it, however. Kerby Anderson regularly says we can disagree without being disagreeable, and the fastest way to shut down communication is to fail to show respect to the humanity of the opponent.
Three, I need to organize my thoughts. I don't want to explore every issue in excruciating detail, but I don't want to cause more confusion, either. I am a creature of order. I'd like a little order in my presentation.
So, I made notes, and I hope to present a brief and somewhat ordered account of why I believe and behave the way I do. Much like Luke did when writing his Gospel. Except I don't claim this is divinely inspired. I'm crazy, but there are levels of craziness. Mine is mostly related to cats.
For those worried about my fiction writing being sidelined by this new focus, rejoice. I'm on the last leg of Daughter of Anasca edits (with some help from My Dear Friend as gamma reader), and I've got a plan to finish Dangling Justice, which is a first. It's as though I've been trying so hard to be non-offensive, I'd stopped being able to say anything.
As I once told her, and My Dear Friend reminded me, "You can be my friend, or you can not be offended, but you can't be both." True dat.
Keep the faith.
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