The Master's Artist

Better late... or never?

So this is how it goes down. Super heavy storms wake you during the night. The wee girl wakes you up early in the morning. You plan a trip to Dublin with the wee girl. You pay careful attention to timings. A marketing call by Dublin Electricity causes an unexpected delay. The wee girl's a bit grumpy. You are a bit grumpy. Better late than never. You get the both of you ready and you go. You spot an empty petrol can at door. A reminder. Long grass on the lawn a symptom of a dry petrol mower. You decide to deal with that another time when you have more time. It's wet. You put on raincoat. It's warm. You put on the wee girl's raincoat. You perspire. You get both of you into the car and you’re on the road. The petrol light is blinking low. You calculate that you don’t have enough fuel for the journey. You’re stopping anyway so you may as well fill the empty petrol can. You reverse back, collect can, set off in car, check the time. Better late than never.

I Run To You

A couple of weeks ago the worship leader and a teen aged girl sang this country song at church. They simply changed the "baby's" to "Jesus" and made it into a worship song. I'd heard the song before, but I never knew the words. I'll share them with you in a minute. First I have a confession to make:

I judged them. I sat there and listened to the intro and thought patronizing thoughts. I thought about how much I hate it when people remake a secular song into a christian one just by tacking on a few "Jesus-es". It wasn't until just today that I saw the other side of things.

Imagine

It was our date night. We were on our way into the city to see our friend, a well known Irish singer, perform at the National Concert Hall. I was dressed up to the nines, smooth shaven Simon looked well in his freshly pressed shirt and slacks. My dear sister, herself a mother of four with the littlest only 12 weeks old, had very kindly offered to babysit our daughter so that we could go out. (Our fabulous little girl went to bed without a fuss and slept soundly for her, I’m happy to say!) It was a warm, sunny and bright Irish evening. On the face of it, it looked like we had everything in place for a perfect, romantic evening.

My Hip Has A Headache

I have a new friend. A new roommate, in fact. We were introduced years ago, sometime around the eleventh grade, methinks. My new friend is one of those nameless, faceless, genderless folks that manage to exude familiarity and foreignness in equal measure. He (or she) makes me weak in the knees. Sometimes she (or he) can make me tingle with funny bone zeal or go numb altogether. Sometimes I feel nothing at all. Most times however, he/she is quite literally a pain in the butt.

My new best pal is a herniated disc. It showed up unannounced on the doorstep of my spine, then claimed squatter’s rights in my nether region. Now we seem to be engaged in some sort of benign hostage situation involving several major neural byways of my right leg. The ransom is paid in 600 milligram does of Ibubrofen, thrice daily. And of course I do my part by squirming and making funny noises and routinely massaging the hurting parts. We’re an odd couple. But we know our roles.

Wednesday Wrapup - June '09

For those of you interested in what the Master's Artists have been doing, we do a monthly Wednesday Wrapup.

Michael Snyder: My latest novel released June 1. It's called Return Policy and here's the blurb..."In his second book, novelist Michael Snyder introduces us to three very unusual and distinct voices all torn by tragedy: Willy Finneran, washed-up genre novelist with an espresso maker that just won’t die and a habit of avoiding conflict even if it means putting the truth on a sliding scale. Ozena Webb, single mother and Javatek’s top customer service representative. She spends every evening playing board games with her twelve-year-old son who is mentally crippled from an early childhood accident. Shaq, a small and scraggy homeless man with trauma-induced blank spots on his memory, trying to piece together the story of his life while assisting Father Joe at the Mercy Mission. As their stories intersect, the narrative vacillates between hope and naivete, comic relief and postmodern ennui. Startling in its authenticity, this unforgettable novel reveals that no matter how far one has strayed from hope, there is always a way to return."

Here's the link: http://www.amazon.com/Return-Policy-Michael-Snyder/dp/0310277280/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1245294859&sr=8-1

Also, the good folks over at Relief Journal accepted a short story of mine called Normal People. For more info, check them out at: http://www.reliefjournal.com

Mary DeMuth: I’ll be finished with my third Defiance, TX book, and have completed my research for a write to hire that I hope to complete in August. This month, I’m flying to my hometown, Seattle. That will be a nice break from Texas heat, and I’m praying I’ll be set free from my evil blackberry. I’ll be teaching at a writer’s conference in Dallas July 25th (Roaring Lambs in Plano) and will teach proposal writing at She Speaks July 31—August 2nd.

Jeanne Damoff: The last weekend of June I'm photographing a wedding in Detroit. I return home the 27th to turn right around and launch Family Fun Times, '09 Edition: two weeks of travel in Colorado, Nebraska, and Ohio, partying with relatives from just about every branch on the family tree (including a few "wild ones" who were grafted in). After indulging in lots of good food, laughter, impromptu music jams, biking, hiking, and a wedding, we'll head home. On the creative front, I'm speaking a lot these days and loving it. Writing one book and brainstorming a possible series with a brilliant artist friend. Always have stuff happening with music and dance. And my camera is never far from reach. More info at JeanneDamoff.com.

Donna Shepherd: I had a wonderful time teaching a workshop called "Write His Glory" at the Captivating Women Quarterly. In July I'm teaching blogging to the MAC Writers. That should be challenging and fun. I mailed a contract today for another Topsy Tale. This one completes the trilogy. And this evening, the publisher sent me the cover image for Poodle and Doodle. Big day. I'm eating lots of watermelon and trying to stay cool in this oppressive heat.

Happy Summer, everyone. Let us know what's going on with you, too!

The Prayer and Paradox Marketing Strategy

I included this picture as perspective, to remind myself about this crazy beautiful world we live in, to ground myself in people, not products.

Last night I asked via Twitter and Facebook this question:

How do you balance blessing the Kingdom of God with marketing your wares? Is there such a thing?

Here are the responses:

1. A constant and careful balancing act.
2. The question implies you can't do both at the same time; I'd check that assumption. It's more of a healthy tension than opposite objectives.
3. That's one thing I get nervous about. Whew.
4. I keep asking and asking myself (and praying)...am I promoting the Lord or me?...am I seeking glory or giving it to Him? ...Am I marketing myself or temporal stuff or seeking to draw all men to Him. If He's not in it...I don't want it.

3 Steps to W.O.O for Writers Contemplating Giving Up

 

Singing in the Rain Courtesy of Jillybug

This weekend I attended my lil sister's commencement. I must say that I never attended one like this one before. Yall it felt like church. A gospel quartet sang the National Anthem, the Dean gave the invocation, a graduating student shared her conversion testimony, the president of the college preached. Y'all it felt like church. And I thank God, because He knew I needed some church in my life. How about you?

Are the dismal sales numbers in publishing seeping a little doubt in your quest to becoming published? Are the horror stories from published authors about their publishing houses publicity department's lack of marketing effort causing you concern?
How about the cost to hire someone like me, even if you could afford me in this economy would extra  help, actually help?

If those questions are causing you pause, then you need some (W.O.O.) Wonderful Options and Opportunity. Here's three simple steps to get the W.O.O.

The acrobat

Another week is dribbling to an end. It hasn’t even been raining here in Dublin. So to speak - it rains plenty in Dublin even when it feels like we’re in a dry spell. Bad place to find yourself when you are melancholy. Even when the sun’s shining there is the feeling of rain on the way. Like the elements are there to reflect your mood, like maybe the sky is gathering to fall on your head. But I don’t so much want to small talk about the weather as introduce a new friend, the acrobat.

Words that Paint a Thousand Pictures

I'd never heard of Billy Coffey until he graciously joined a blog tour for Parting the Waters. His review made me cry, but not because it was mean or harsh. Quite the contrary. I loved the deep and honest way he connected with the story and how he expressed that connection to his readers. Later, as I read their comments, I realized intimate connection was the norm in this community. And now I better understand why.

Billy's words refuse to make your casual acquaintance. They skip the superficial shallows and dive right into what might normally be "No Trespassing" territory, only you find yourself throwing the gate open wide. His storytelling is personal but not awkward. Naked and unashamed. You trust him. You want to tuck his words in your pocket and pull them out later to admire all their facets in the color-shifting light of a slowly setting sun. The man has a gift.

If you've been around The Master's Artist for a while, you may know I'm not overly fond of certain writing rules and trends du jour. I understand from whence these edicts spring, but I regret to see them taken to extremes--especially when "spare" becomes sterile and "tight" becomes bland.

I've seen trend peddlers scowl at the mere mention of the word "literary" as though it leaves a bitter taste in their mouths. But literary doesn't necessarily mean overwrought or flowery or inaccessible. To me, literary implies respect for the power of language. It's a style that welcomes an artist to compose music with words, creating a soundtrack that doesn't detract from story, but rather frees it to sing.

When I read Billy's words I hear his heartbeat. He writes to its rhythm, and I get the distinct impression that he isn't counting adverbs or pausing after every sentence to make sure he's showing, not telling. I believe he sees life through a poet's eyes. Beauty breaks his heart (in the best way), and he writes from the ache. No wonder his readers love him.

So, today you get a treat. Billy wrote a beautiful story in his blog Monday, and I asked him if I could share it with you. Be forewarned, you may cry. And don't be surprised if you hear music behind the words. 

Where Tears Go to Die, by Billy Coffey

Overgrowth and Pruning Shears

Sometimes you don't know where your boundaries are until you've crossed them. You don't know how much you can drink until you're drunk, I didn't know how many kids I wanted until I'd had enough...That kind of thing."Boundaries" has been a buzz-word for everything Christian and relational over the last several years, and with good reason.

Boundaries are essential. So is maintenance. In my experience, pretty much everything organic requires a little bit of both.

I have a good friend who places a high value on healthy boundaries, but he's not so fond of pruning. I know that sounds incongruous, but it's not really. He just takes a different approach. Turns out he's rather fond of overgrowth. 

I suppose there are two schools of pruning thought. One would say prune the bush down to nothing, then it will grow lush the next season. Often that's true. But what if your bush doesn't need to be cut all the way back? What if it just needs some shaping?

That's where a visionary pruner comes in pretty well handy.