My Summer Challenge to You

By Lacey Gunter

I am so excited for summer. My work as a professor dies down and my time with my kids ramps up. It's a time of free schedules, exploring creativity and lots of cuddles. Don't get me wrong, school is great and I love it. But there is something magical about summer's nonconformity to rigid topics and timelines that opens the world to new possibilities.

One of our favorite things about summer is the time my kids finally get to learn about all the topics or skills sets they wanted to during the year, but school got in the way of.  They take fun classes from the local university on various topics that interest them. We go to the library at least twice a week and check out bucket loads of books on all the crazy topics that pop in their heads.  And they finally have time to ask a thousand questions and I have the time to answer them.

Happily, this is an activity I love to take part in also.  Sometimes I will take a class with my kids or on my own. I often got to workshops or conferences. I try out new cooking, sewing, art and craft projects. And I greatly expand my reading as well.

The freedom of summer does not escape us, instead it expands us. This is the kind of learning that's not motivated by standards and competition, but by the rich feast it offers to the intellect and the soul.

This is why I want to issue a challenge to you. Find at least one thing new you want to learn this summer that will help expand you as either a writer or a mother or just as a person. But don't just pick something you've been told you need to learn or you feel you have to know to keep up with other mommies or writers. Pick something for the sheer joy of learning.  As it says in one of our LDS books of scripture, "The glory of God is intelligence." (D&C 93:36)  So make this summer glorious. Find some nook of God's intelligence and make it your own.

I Can Do Great Things

     Last week while my dog was lounging around I noticed a dark spot on his side and my spider-sense began to tingle.  On closer inspection my fear was confirmed.  It was a tick.  A really big tick.  I absolutely hate ticks.  I hate them.  They are awful.  They creep me out.  I think they are disgusting and must be the spawn of Satan or something.  It took me a few moments to convince myself, but I knew I needed to remove it.  I started out trying to remove it via the "smother method."  It did not work.  At all.  I tried the match trick, it too failed.  I was feeling pretty desperate at this point so I sent out a couple texts and prayed someone would be able to help me.   A few moments later I was rewarded with a reply teaching me a good method to get the tick out.  It took me a while and a bit of screaming, whimpering, and yelling at my dog to hold still, but in the end I was able to remove the horrible creature. 



     You might be wondering what the point of my little story is, I assure you there is a purpose. 

     I struggled with that darn tick (mentally as well as physically) for about 15 minutes.  It was a really big deal for me, and after it was all said and done, it took about another 15 minutes for me to shake the heebie-jeebies.  But, once I recovered I was able to realize something.

I can do great things.

     OK, so removing a tick may not seem so great to you, but I promise it was a huge ordeal for me (I'm a mega-huge big baby when it comes to arachnids of any kind).  I was able to overcome an obstacle and do what needed to be done.  I was able to do something I didn't think I could do by myself.  This realization was kind of empowering, enough so that now I know if I absolutely had to, I could do this again.  I'm crossing my fingers that I wont have to, but considering where I live it's likely to happen again. 

 

I think we can all do great things, even if they're actually small in size.

 

 

Making Friends

"Make friends with the problems in your life."

This suggestion is from my current daily devotional, Jesus Calling.

I had to read it twice.  And then a third time.  My mind resists such a crazy idea.  In my flesh, I want to get past my problems, or have them vanish.  My first thought is never, Oh, good, another headache.  Come on in.

I kept reading, and of course the author's wisdom is revealed further down the page:  God uses everything for good.  I read that twice as well, as a reminder.  God uses everything for good. 

Even headaches.  Especially headaches.  Because, when we're having an issue, that's when we're most likely to turn to God.  When life is lovely and stress-free, we, well, I get complacent and forget God still runs the show.  I assume it's my stellar navigational skills that brought such peace to my life. 

Then, a headache barges in and disrupts my rhythm.  I groan and sigh, but eventually, I pray.  The headache - illness, tragedy, loss of any kind, or (UGH) a leaking bathtub - takes me back to the source of life, and I remember I'm not really in charge of diddly-do.

I know this, I do, but I get so weary of the work headaches bring.  They're rarely easy, or short-lived, or, in case of the leaking bathtub, cheap.  I don't know why this surprises me.  God never promised me easy, short-lived, or cheap.  He did promise to grow me up.  By its nature, the road to spiritual maturity is arduous, unrelenting, and costly.

I still choose it.  Even though I whine often.  Headaches do bring me to the throne, where God can pull me into His lap and assure me, "You're not alone.  Together, we can do this."

So, I will try to remember to view the struggles of this life as "friends."  Annoying friends, but friends who show me the truth.  I guess we can't have too many of those.

Story Distraction

Here is today's "red herring" post, because I've got something going on right now in my family that has me completely in knots, so rather than discussing that we are going to get a teaser of my newest story idea.

If you've been here longer than a week, you will recall I get a new story idea about every other day. :)

            A king must have sons. Verity heard her father’s words in her head—words he used to justify unspeakable acts. She let the words play with her thoughts while she watched him from across the table, his handsome face illuminated by candles that somehow erased the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth.

            Verity let her gaze slide from her father to the man speaking to him. Lord Bakkus was a greasy, fat man with eyes that missed little but hid much. Verity wondered if her father knew—if he even noticed—the cunning of Bakkus’s smile. Or did her father’s attention stray far from Lord Bakkus’s lovely young daughter?

            Bakkus waved away the servant with the tray of wine. “As I was saying, your majesty, I believe you and I can do a great deal for one another.” He leaned back in his chair and belched. “In fact, I know I have something you want.”

            Verity’s father’s eyebrows knit together. “And what is that?”

            Bakkus didn’t even look at his daughter, but barked, “Come here.”

            She obeyed, of course, and moved to stand just at his right. Verity wondered if he’d planned even that—how the candlelight played with her golden hair and soft white gown. She knew what he would offer her father, but what did Bakkus have to gain from it?

            “Melody, my youngest,” Bakkus said. “She comes from a long line of good breeders. Her mother gave me four strapping sons to build my territory, and two lovely daughters to add to my wealth. Melody’s older sister has given her husband six strong sons. Which is more than any of your women have done for you.”

            Bakkus leaned forward, a little too eagerly in Verity’s opinion, to watch her father’s face. Verity could see the deep frown in his profile as her father looked at the minor lord. He’d struck a nerve, certainly. Verity wondered how many people knew of her father’s struggle to have a son.

            “What would you want in return?” the king asked.

            Verity saw the gleam of satisfaction hit the lord’s eyes for the briefest of instants. Did her father see it? Probably not. His gaze had wandered back to Melody’s heart-shaped face. And other qualities.

            Bakkus was looking at her now. Why? Verity wondered. That gleam was back in his eye. She almost shook her head. He couldn’t want what she thought.

            “I propose an exchange,” Bakkus said to the king. “A daughter for a daughter.”

So, what do you think? Should I continue to explore Verity's dark world?

Moments

My computer moves at a snail's pace. By the time the "New Post" page appears so I can start typing, I've forgotten what I was going to say.

Where was I?

I'm probably not alone in this, but I've found that the less writing I get done the more um, shall we say creative, my dreams get.

Like the hypnosis-zombie apocalypse dream.

Or the I'm-in-a-friend's-wedding-and-hate-my-dress dream.

I've been working a lot. Last week I clocked over 50 hours. This week wasn't as bad, but I still squeezed a double shift in on Tuesday. That's not my favorite thing by a long shot, but you do what you have to do, right?

My writing is suffering and it frustrates me. I had planned to write a book in September. Now I'm looking at the dwindling days left in the month and drastically reshaping my schedule. Right now I hate having an outside job. I hate anything that drags me away from my writing. And, most of all, I hate being so tired all the time that even when I am home I have no energy or my back hurts too much to sit in the chair.

And even those start to feel like excuses after a while. Even when the pain is so bad I can't even stand up straight.

Can I express how much I'm looking forward to General Conference? Probably not. I've missed a few Sundays of church because of work, and I really don't want to miss that weekend. I need the recharge. I need that overwhelming infusion of the spirit.

My husband just took a job that will mean a significant pay cut, even though it's closer to home and he'll be spending much less in gas commuting to and from work. So it really doesn't look like I'm going to be able to quit my job any time soon.

I keep telling myself that if writing is so important to me, I will FIND the time to get my projects done. I will MAKE the time.

Right now I'm just struggling to make time to get dressed and go to the grocery store before work. :/

The Secret Behind Magic (and Writing)

The sun is setting earlier.

The temperature is getting lower.

The bugs are getting lazier.

The kids are getting restless-er.

It is not an infection.  It's the beginning of the end of summer.  At least here in Canada.  So to celebrate the end of Summer Reading Club, our local library hosted a program today featuring 'Kip the Court Jester'.  It was a one man show combining juggling, magic and international song and instrumentation (Kip told stories of all the different countries and cultures he's visited to learn new music and skills).

And he taught the kids a few things - the basics of juggling, the disappearing quarter trick.  But then he did something that really struck a note with me - he told them the real secret behind magic and music and juggling.  One word:

Practice.

He told the kids that they should never again proclaim, "I'm bored!".  Instead they should say, "I have time on my hands!" and then start practicing the skills he showed them.  And then they should practice and practice and practice, at least 1000 times.  Only then, he promised, could they be an expert.

Isn't that what we sometimes fail to remember?  Every contest, every rejection letter, every sacrificied fifteen minutes when the rest of the family is sleeping.  It's practice.  It's growth.

That's what the D.E.W challenge has been about this month.  Encouraging ourselves despite our hectic summers to take a moment to practice.  Because you don't go from throwing one ball in the air to juggling with a snap of the fingers.  It's a progression that takes at least 1000 tosses.

The Next Chapter

Yesterday marked the two year anniversary of the day I received the email from Cedar Fort saying they wanted to publish my novel, The Peasant Queen. It's also the day I received another email from Cedar Fort saying they will pass on publishing its sequel, The Tyrant King.

As hind sight is 20/20, I'll admit the "universe" had given me some clues this would happen. Since I've been mentally preparing my back up plan for months I really feel at peace with their decision. They are a company and, ultimately, in the business of making money. Decisions have to be made. Some have to be "yes" while others have to be "no."

There's rather a cruel review of The Peasant Queen on Goodreads where the person says my book is proof that Cedar Fort will publish anyone and everything.

Apparently not. :)

After receiving the email yesterday, I sort of had to breathe for a minute or two. I won't deny I was kinda hoping for a yes. But, as the day wore on and I started realizing what this really means, I got excited.

I'm self publishing The Tyrant King. It's still going to have a professional cover, professional edit, and a professional interior design. But *I* get the final say. On everything.

It's sort of freaking me out that I get so excited by rejection. I mean I was literally dancing in my house. Skipping. You're probably glad you missed it.

Of course, it didn't take long for the rest of the mantle to settle on my shoulders. Everything is up to me. Advertising, promotion, trying to get it into bookstores. Everything. Oh, carp. And, the same will go for the final book, The Lost Princess, which I plan to publish next year. So, ya, I panicked a little bit.

Ultimately, though, I'm incredibly at peace with this decision. Research and the experience of other authors has shown no publisher picks up a series in the middle. It won't do any good to try and push TTK around to other publishers. This is the best decision for this series. And it hardly means I'm now going to self publish all my works. I'm still looking for that balance.

And, right this minute, I'm more excited than scared. :)

Delete Challenge

So I've written about four different posts today. Each time I get about half way through, decide it isn't good enough, and put my delete button to work. I keep spinning my wheels and am getting nowhere.

I often feel like this in my writing. I write something, go back and read what I wrote and hate it and put my delete button to work. I think I'm wearing it out. I get nowhere in my writing and become discouraged.

Having realized this I'm setting a goal for myself. For the next month, whatever I write, no matter how bad it is, I'm not deleting it. I'm just going to plow forward. I'll give an update at the end of the month and let you know how it went.

I encourage anyone that struggles with an overactive delete button to join me in this challenge. Give that button a much needed vacation!

Retreats Rock, k?

I was lucky enough to attend a retreat this weekend and it was exactly what I needed. I had a blast, learned a lot, and am now super motivated to work on writing and editing. (Not a small feat since everything went crazy in my life and I haven't written or edited anything in over a month)

I was so impressed by how fun and kind everyone was and by how different we all are. I think everyone had at least one thing they were really good at--this is where I want to focus my post today.

As writers, we are forced to find our faults. We have to find the things we don't do well and work on them or we will never improve. Today I want to challenge you to find your strengths. What makes you fabulous?

For me, I am very good at writing queries and I have recently gotten very strong with opening chapters. How about you?