The Master's Artist

Farewell & Hello

 Dear You,

I hate that it's come to this. But there's a lot I've been wanting to say to you for a long time now. A lot I've held inside. A lot I've let seethe until today. I am done seething. I am ready to boil.

Gratitude

While Ireland reels with continuing economic upheavals, there is a sense that contentment and peace is lost. The prosperity bubble of the past ten years has well and truly burst, leaving people addicted to stuff, hurting and lacking hope. I’m someone who has, in the past, thrashed about in discontent, longing for change to circumstances instead of finding the good in the present moment. I heard a woman talk recently about the spiritual discipline of gratitude; every night before she goes to sleep she lists five things that she is grateful for. It gives a sense of perspective and an idea of the abundance that is already in your life. As I deal with the disappointments, thrills and uncertainty of living out of my creativity, I’ve attempted to emulate this woman’s gratitude. So after a week that was hectic and tinged with the sadness that came from the second anniversary of my mother’s death, here’s a list of five things I’m grateful for today.

15 Reasons Why Not to Become a Writer (Or “Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Ernest Hemingway”)

(Mike here...my new cyber pal K.M. Welland was kind enough to offer this fun batch o' wisdom to our Master's Artist cause. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did. Thanks again, K.M.!)

I suppose it’s possible that a few starry-eyed folks out there have yet to be awakened from the happy notion that writerdom is only a step down on the glam scale from actordom or pop-singerdom. So for the sake of any of you who are still nursing dreams of dashing off a few thousand words and promptly retiring to the easy life of contemplative bliss, double lattes, and large paychecks, I suppose it’s really only the least I can do to point a few of the hard, but all too true, reasons why you should seriously consider abandoning these crazy ambitions to become a writer:

Reason #1: Your social life will devolve into a series of mostly imaginary friends. This is a problem because you often tend to like the imaginary friends better than the real ones.

Wednesday Wrapup - May '09

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

BJ Hamrick: I'll be taking the summer off to focus on my tanning needs. (If you're my agent -- I just put that up to scare you.) Here's the real news:

My new interactive website just went live: www.bjhamrick.com!

I'll be doing 4 humor pieces for the newspaper, which can also be
found on my blog weekly.

I'll also be working on my speaking schedule -- check out my website
if you're interested in having a humorist speak to your teen group.

Mary DeMuth: I’ll be speaking at the Write to Publish Conference June 3—6. I’m looking forward to it, as it will be my first time there. I hope to do a triathlon the following weekend. And I’ll be gathering information for writing someone’s memoir.

I’ll speak for a group of moms at my church mid-month, and I’ll be employing my daughter, driving kids places, and swimming in the neighborhood pool. What I love about Texas: I’ll have tomatoes by the end of June! Yum!

Donna J. Shepherd: Dotty's Topsy Tale has been released - finally. That little book had a long journey to publication. During the first couple weeks of June, I'm participating in a blog tour with several other children's book authors. Should be fun. The illustrations for Poodle & Doodle are almost finished. It will be released in print, as an eBook, and something new - on iTunes.

I also set up a Facebook page. Although I had a difficult time at first, I'm starting to get the hang of it. On the speaking front, I'll teach a workshop at the Captivating Women Quarterly in June.

Unlike BJ, I don't tan. I don't raise tomatoes like Mary, but I can guarantee a busy summer. Life's just more fun when the days are full. Don't you agree?  

The Ministry of Authenticity & Light & Healing

I've been thinking a lot lately about authenticity. I ruminated a bit about that here. And then last night, I started talking about something that riled me to my core.

I've been receiving emails for the My Family Secrets blog. Folks are sharing their painful, hidden secrets--sometimes for the very first time. It's sometimes a burden for me, to hear and bear so many painful secrets. In fact, I think God knew this would be hard for me because He sent a prayer warrior to pray for me as I shouldered all these secrets. I'm thankful for that.

1 Corinthians 13 – Glass

Grab an empty jam jar and have a look at this post through its base. Actually, you better put that down or you won’t be able to make out the rest of the post.

Message-Driven Fiction: the Good, the Bad, and the Please-Shoot-Me-Now

When I hear someone accuse Christians of writing message-driven fiction, I'm tempted to offer what I consider to be the most intellectually appropriate response. "Duh."

Of course fiction written by Christians is message driven. As is fiction written by atheists, Buddhists, feminists, communists, and "ists" of any other stripe. Literature by its nature (except perhaps beat poetry) contains discernible messages. For a story to be a story it has to start somewhere and end somewhere else. The main characters grow, solve problems, learn, change. No matter how objective an author may claim to be, her biases and beliefs will bleed through. For that matter, when asked, most authors can easily identify the specific something they hope their readers will take away when they arrive at The End.

That said, when critics level this charge, they aren't complaining about the mere presence of a message. They're annoyed by books that are thinly veiled sermons masquerading as stories. Those books annoy me, too. But I can't say I find them any more prevalent at Lifeway than I do on the general shelves of Barnes & Noble.

Let's consider a few examples.

Meet Truly.

Write out of the darkness.
It is both where I need to go, and how I need to get there. 

But I’ve been wondering. Am I merely a composite of all the different characters floating around in my head? Or am I really someone totally different? Hidden under the rubble. Without an identity. Until I create the next one. And all this hiding and creating is the only way I can connect with and communicate with the world.

These are the questions all writers ask themselves late at night when the voices in their heads keep them from sleep and what little we do sleep keeps muting the voices. It’s a frustrating existence, but one I seem doomed to repeat.

Maybe Tom was right. Maybe the only way out is up. Maybe there will come a time when all that is in darkness will be made light, and then the weight will no longer be there. Maybe. 

When God Does a New Thing for Your Writing Life

Isaiah 43: 18-21

Have you been nursing your manuscript all year? Have you decided to wait until the economy picks up before your submit your WIP to a publisher? Or are you spending more time blogging and posting book reviews, because you get a chance to communicate with those in Christian publishing before you finally get your book published? Or --real talk here-- or are you comfortable with not changing the way you write, they way you act, the measure of your faith?

In Isaiah God sent Isaiah to speak to the tribe of Judah. He wanted them to know that their way of life and where they lived was about to change for their  better. But they refused the move. They had grown comfortable living in a secular world. They had learned how to adapt. They had learned how to interpret the coolest slang, sing with the hottest melody, dress in the latest fashion, and disquise God's word to survive. They had become accepted, more than survived...they lived better. Truth: they had grown comfortable with placing their hope in the wrong place and the wrong God - mediocrity, lukewarm faith, excuseville. They didn't want to do anything new.

They had become me.

Writing for my people

The email had arrived in my inbox the evening before but I’d been out at the theatre and then the following morning was spent at the birthday party of my God-daughter, so I only saw it there on Saturday afternoon. It was the much-anticipated news from the festival I’d sent Girl on a blue bicycle to. The sound of my daughter whingeing downstairs was a good sound track for what followed.