Swamped and Snowed In

This week has been incredibly swamped, so this will be short and sweet. However there were a few things I wanted to share.

1. It's snowing like crazy outside.

2. I did manage to get galleys and contest judging done, and conference materials put together.


3. On this day in 1789 George Washington first took office as President of the USA; I don't know if it was snowing or not, but I found this shot of GW praying in the snow.





4. I just checked and it's still snowing.

5. Happy Birthday to Louisiana - where I'm betting it's not snowing.










6. It's because of days like this that I can't plant Live Oaks or Jacarandas in my yard.






7. And, well the weatherman just said we're in a winter storm warning and can expect it to continue snowing.


With that, I'm going back to work writing my book about a very warm and sunny Texas.

Tracie

Going to the Psalms

Ever had one of those weeks where you just want to sit in a corner and heave a big sigh of melancholy? I'm really not a morose person most of the time--in fact, on occasion I've been called Pollyanna (and I'm pretty sure the person didn't intend it as a compliment)--but I do try to keep a positive attitude. However, lately, my sunny outlook has been plagued by a storm cloud. Not so much for myself, but for friends and loved ones who are facing major, life-impacting trials. There seems to be a deluge of "not so nice" things happening to people I truly care about.

Years ago (when I was in high school..and that's been more years than it sure seems possible--where does the time go?), I developed the habit of "going to the Psalms" whenever I felt low. In those pages, I always managed to find something that would restore my attitude. For the past two weeks, every morning, I've gone to the Psalms in search of words of encouragement to turn my focus on Him rather than the trouble-cloud hovering over head. And yesterday my soul delighted in Psalm 84. One verse in particular spoke to my heart:

6 When they walk through the Valley of Weeping, it will become a place of refreshing springs. (Read the Psalm it in its entirety here.)

Doesn't that verse just make you draw in a deep breath and then release it on a satisfied "ahhhh"? If you've ever sat beside a mountain spring, you can recall the sweet scent, the gentle melody of water tripping over rocks, the cool gush across your bare toes. "Refreshing" is the perfect word to describe those moments. I know God is in the business of making beauty out of ashes, but it's hard to remember that truth when you're sitting in the ash pile.

Maybe you're walking through a valley of weeping right now, too, and perhaps you feel weighted down with melancholy. Why not go to the Psalms? Sneak away, close your eyes, and envision yourself beside a spring...a spring welling with God's goodness. While you're there, sing the song that was based on Psalm 84. God inhabits praise, so He'll certainly arrive when you break into song--and we always feel better when we're close to Him.



God bless you muchly as you journey with Him! ~Kim

The Measure of a Tapeworm

On Saturday I attended So Long Insecurity, Beth Moore’s live simulcast. My first question—can a simulcast be anything besides ‘live’—I’m really just wonderin’ if they can video things and then not let anyone see them before the ‘live simulcast.’ But that isn’t the intent of this blog. I want to tell you that I was blown away when Beth announced that the simulcast was being seen by 300,000 women in over 800 locations. Can you imagine speaking to that many people? Sure made me insecure to even think about such a thing, but I’m thankful God gave her the security to get on that stage! It was a wonderful gathering of ladies here in Topeka, and realizing there were 300,000 women across the country who all wanted to learn how to overcome their insecurities, sure tells me that we all suffer from some from a lack of confidence in some area of our lives.

The message truly spoke to my heart and I’m so glad that I went. I told myself I should be a home working on those edits I wrote about last week, but I think the Lord knew exactly where I needed to be on Saturday—and it wasn’t at my computer. I’d love to tell you everything Beth had to say to us, but I’m sure many of you may attended in your home cities, and Beth has a book by the same title that will give you even more than we heard on the simulcast. While I truly came away from the gathering with a full heart and a commitment to remember that “grace takes up the space” in a secure woman, there is one other thing I must share with you because my ears perked and I came to full attention when Beth mentioned the word ‘history.’

She talked about women attempting to make themselves ‘perfect’ throughout history, and reiterated this obsession with beauty isn’t a new phenomena, but one that has become more pervasive because of our technology. Robin’s blog yesterday is further testimony to women who were striving to have a larger ‘bosom’ back in the late 1800’s and those rib-breaking corsets are yet another way women attempted to have the perfect figure. However, during her talk, Beth mentioned reading about something I’d never before seen or read in my research: ‘sanitized tapeworms.’ Yep, that’s right tapeworms—not sure how they sanitized them, but they were available during the late 1800’s—maybe earlier. The moment I got home, I had to Google sanitized tapeworms. And sure enough, you will see the advertisements and the bottles that contain those sanitized critters that will permit you to EAT, EAT, EAT, and still loose weight. Please note that it isn’t a man’s picture on the bottle—because those smart advertisers knew clear back then, that women were the ones who would purchase and ingest those nasty critters. Now, I’ve tried most diets available, but even I wouldn’t jump at the chance to try this one! Can I hear a giant YUCK to that idea?

I’m so thankful we have a God who created each of us to be unique and special and that his measurement and acceptance of us is filled with grace. He doesn’t require the use of tapeworms, bust creams or corsets to make us acceptable. He takes us just as we are and gives us the greatest gift of all—eternal life.

May you find joy as you rest in the everlasting love of Jesus. ~Judy


P.S. And if you happen to live in Iowa and are anywhere near the Amana Colonies, I'll be attending Maifest and signing books at the General Store in Main Amana on Saturday from 10 until Noon and from 1:00 until 3:00, and on Sunday afternooon, I'll be in Lemstone's in Cedar Rapids from 1-3 in the afternoon.

Sugar Chests, Good friends, and MOVING DAY!

Last week some good friends from Colorado were in town and we met for lunch at Pucketts in Franklin (delicious place with a really fun atmosphere), then they showed me the fabulous "find" Willma discovered––a beautiful sugar chest (circa early 1800s). Would love to know the history behind this piece!

Willma Heckman and her daughter, Jenny. (Willma absconded with a packet of sugar from the restaurant so she'd have sugar to put into her sugar chest. She's so funny...)

Me and Willma at Pucketts

Jenny and me before they went (or should I say continued) shopping in Franklin, and I went back to writing

Today is MOVING DAY! The movers arrive in a little over an hour, and I can hardly believe the day is finally here. We ran down to Atlanta this past Friday and spent the weekend packing and moving my Dad. Rained the entire day on Saturday when we were packing furniture into the truck. A mess (but thank you Charleston and Charlie for all your help, we couldn't have done it without you)! We arrived back to Franklin late Sunday night and just parked the truck and trailer in the driveway and fell into bed. I spent yesterday cleaning the "new" (not really new but new to us!) house, arranging last minute details for the move, and now today...to make the transition!

By the time Dad arrives on Friday, we hope to have his "area" downstairs somewhat in order and ready. But I told him not to get his hopes up...I've got last edits to make on Within My Heart tomorrow and Thursday. And yet, some of the "loose ends" of life in recent months are coming together, and I couldn't be more grateful to God for His Master Hand in all of this. He truly is gracious and faithful beyond words. Thank you, Lord, for the way You work in all things.

I'd appreciate your prayers for a safe move today and that the threatening thunderstorms would hold off until Mom's lovely white sofa is safely back inside. ;)

Much love,
Tammy

The more things change...

... the more they stay the same.

Men readers, beware. This may not be a suitable post for you.

Last week, I had the heroine in my WIP walk into the mercantile with a list of items she wanted to buy. Cleaning supplies to be exact. Soap and brushes for scrubbing floors and making sure her home was spic and span. So I pulled down my trusty mail order catalogs from the 19th Century and began thumbing through them. Always a good source, even if the years aren't the same.

I stopped thumbing when I arrived at THE PRINCESS BUST DEVELOPER AND BUST CREAM OR FOOD (1897 Sears, Roebuck & Co.). I've owned this catalog replica for a good many years, but this listing hadn't ever caught my eye before. I had no idea! I thought the desire for a larger bust came out of the 1960's. Silly me. Back then, girls & women could order a small spring-loaded device that you pressed between the heels of your hands to work and develop those chest muscles. It was pink. How do I know? I bought one when I was about 14 or 15! {see Robin blushing}

Another revelation? I thought that advertising of personal women's products prior to the latter half of the 20th century was done more discreetly. Somehow, I don't think advertising in Sears, Roebuck would be considered discreet. Do you?

The Princess Bust Developer makes me think it was a precursor for a breast pump. You needed to order it in either 4 or 5 inch sizes, although I'm not sure how you were supposed to know which size you needed. But it is the other product that caught my fancy. Why didn't someone tell me I could avoid working out and just apply a cream to get the shape I wanted?

The Bust Cream or Food was applied as a massage. "It is a delightful cream preparation, put up by an eminent French chemist, and forms just the right food required for the starved skin and wasted tissues... You need no longer regret that your form is not what you would like it to be. Ladies everywhere welcome the Princess Bust Developer and Cream Food as the greatest toilet requisite ever offered."

Starved skin and wasted tissues. Great mental image, huh?

My grandmother was born in 1881. She died when I was 12, but right up until the last couple years of her life, she wore a corset. Not that it gave her a great hourglass figure but apparently women don't give up hope easily, even in their waning years.

Do you suppose that eminent French chemist still puts up that delightful cream?

~robin

PS  Men, you can open your eyes and ears now.

When I say something about a trip, everyone understands I’m not talking about seeing new vistas… unless they consider an oil spill on a parking garage floor as picturesque. There are graceful people in the world. Then there are people like me.

One of them is my daughter, Kelly.

I got one of those hair-raising phone calls Tuesday. “Mom?” It’s all in the tone of voice… that slight quaver, the tentative quality that makes a mother’s hair stand straight on end. Dedicated to getting fit, she was taking the stairs at work… and fell. She thought her foot might be fractured. I went to get her right away. After all, her timing was very considerate. I’d just finished my physical therapy for my broken right wrist. I couldn’t get to her fast enough, hugged her, checked her… and took no joy in seeing she was wrong. Her foot wasn’t broken. It was her ankle.

It’s a crying shame we don’t wear the same shoe size. She hurt her right foot. My left foot is still broken. Between us, we could share the same pair of shoes simultaneously!

But this whole episode made me reflect God’s role as our Heavenly Father. Though He told us to walk carefully, hold His hand, and watch what we do, we take our eyes off Him, let go of His hand, and fall. How must my Heavenly Father feel when I spiritually fall? I limp around and tell myself it’ll be okay. It’s not. I’m off balance. He offers me His hand. I figure I’ll hold one finger. I don’t want to let go of the solid support and wisdom that only He can give—but at the price of my independence and control. So I stumble.

He waits in the Emergency Room, knowing the pain I’m in. He could make that pain disappear—if only I’d ask Him. But I’m too proud. I don’t need a crutch. I don’t hurt that much. But I do. And I’m only fooling myself…and very poorly. So when I finally take a good inventory of the bruises, scrapes and fractures, I have to admit I’m a total wreck.

God sweeps up those who call upon Him. He holds them close, forgives, strengthens, and loves—all at unspeakable cost. I ached for my daughter. I worried. I wanted to speed things up. (7 ½ hours in an Emergency Room is an eternity.) I’m positive God aches for all His sons and daughters. He wants to scoop us up, heal us, and steady us as we walk together with Him. We fall; He is faithful to reach down as soon as we lift our arms up to Him for help

But He’d far rather we walked carefully and hadn’t stumbled—because it hurt us both.

Research in the Northwest

Last week my husband and I took a research trip to the American Northwest. We drove from Montana and headed west. The weather was gorgeous until we got to Snowquamie Pass as we neared Seattle.



Coming into this ski resort area sent us in a step back to winter, but once we cleared that area, we drove into Seattle spring.


We took a spin through the Olympic National Park and tootled through several port towns. We toured through several museums and the book ideas were everywhere I looked.

The weather was misty and overcast adding to the ambiance of the trip. I made notes regarding the weather--the feeling--the charm.

Throughout the trip I was continuously blessed by the little things. A parking place smack dab in front of the downtown Seattle restaurant where I wanted to eat.



Comfortable beds. The incredible beauty of flowering trees.





Smooth as glass lakes and little waterfalls that peeked out at the most unexpected times.






I felt God's presence in the landscape as well as the people. We met some truly delightful people.

Now I'm back home and it's time to tackle galley proofs on one book and dig into writing the next book. Oh, and I'm excited to announce my brand new website at www.traciepeterson.com. I'm very pleased with the results and hope you will be too.

Tracie

Unexpected Gifts

Editing is behind me (yay!) and I'm in the midst of my most favorite part of the book-making process: WRITING. And I am so excited about the story...

You see, the idea for this one bloomed two years ago while cruising down the Chena River (near Fairbanks, Alaska) on a riverboat. (Go here to read the entry describing the moment of story-awakening and pics from the area.) The story has rolled around in the back of my mind all these months, and now...finally...I have the opportunity to bring the story to life.

This past Tuesday was an absolutely gorgeous day in Kansas. Instead of writing in my office, I took my laptop to the back porch and wrote there. I love my back porch. It looks out over an open field where wildflowers are starting to bloom, and since my own garden is beginning to burgeon with new life, the scents delight my nose. But my backyard sure doesn't resemble Alaska!

As I was trying to recall the Alaskan landscape, a movement caught my attention. A beautiful little bird with bright plumage fluttered to the birdbath outside the porch and dunked his beak. He sat on the edge and favored me with a song. He was so pretty, I wanted a picture of him. Of course he wouldn't stay on the birdbath for me (typical male--camera shy! lol), but with a lot of zooming on my camera I captured him on a nearby electrical line.

I thought maybe it was a wren, based on its size, but it didn't look like any wren I'd seen before. Curiosity got the best of me, so I began "googling" birds. After a tremendous amount of trial and error and a query on Facebook as to the bird's identity, I finally called Daddy, our family's bird expert. He determined from my description that I had been visited by a finch--either a house finch or a purple finch. But when he looked at the photo I emailed him, he said, "I think you've got a rose finch." He went on to explain that rose finch occasionally come this far south, but they're a lot more common in the northern areas, including Alaska.

I couldn't help but laugh with pleasure. Just as I was trying to conjur an image of Alaska, a little birdie common to the state visited me. Now some might call that coincidence, others serendipity. I prefer to think God gifted me with a glimpse of that other land.

When the story about Alaska releases (sometime in 2011), you can be sure there will be a sighting of a rose finch... May God surprise you with an unexpected gift today!

God bless you muchly as you journey with Him! ~Kim

I'll Third That!!

A couple weeks ago Kim blogged about editing and yesterday Tammy discussed her edits. Well, I’m on board to add “the rest of the story,” because I’m in the midst of my edits for the third book in the Daughters of Amana series. For those of you who can bear one more blog about edits, I thought I’d add my two cents. Also because I’ve done nothing of particular interest this week, editing is about all I can talk about right now.

Editing is a topic that resonates with authors—just mention the word “edits,” and you get a variety of reactions. There are some who allegedly love to edit, but the majority of us groan when the word is mentioned. You see, when any of us turn in our manuscript, we believe we’ve done the very best job we can with our story. We’ve groomed it with all the care a mother gives a child on the first day of school. Then we send it off to our editors, just like we sent that little child off to school. Now when we sent the child off to school, we secretly thought he or she was the brightest, most handsome child who would amaze the teacher with his or her ability and knowledge. Unfortunately, the teacher usually didn’t agree with that particular line of thinking. She thought he or she needed some additional molding and structure in order to become the best student in class. And that’s exactly what happens to those manuscripts. We send them off secretly believing it will wow the editors and there won’t be any changes needed, but deep down we know that in about a month or so we’re going to get “the call.” Some of us get a “letter” rather than a call, and some of us, like me, get both. A call to get me over the hurdle and so my editor can tell me she really does love me and the book, before she launches into the edits, and a letter to remind me that even though she loves me and the book, she really does want those changes.

And just like that little child who sometimes isn’t particularly happy about submitting to the hard work of becoming a more knowledgeable student, writers dread the hard work of editing. Most realize the story will be a tighter, better read once they’ve finished the work, but “finished” is the key word. Other than typing THE END on the last page of a manuscript, the most wonderful feeling is when we’ve completed those edits! I haven’t completed mine. In fact I just began yesterday, but each time I do edits I feel as though I’m going through a refiner’s fire, that I’m learning more about the writing process so that I can write more effective stories for His purpose.

Our lives are much the same as those manuscripts that must be edited. God walks us through the refining fires of life so we can draw closer to Him and become of greater service. Those fires can be frightening and painful, but He’s with us each step of the way. And since I’m talking about being refined, if you have never studied this Kay Arthur book, I highly recommend it to you.

May you find joy as you are refined by the One and Only. ~Judy

Life...Edited

It's a little after 2AM on Tuesday morning and I'm deep into final edits on this next book, the "last look" I'll get at this manuscript before it comes back to me in galley stage before it goes to press. With the benefit of time having passed, I'm able to see the story a little clearer and it's amazing at how a sentence or paragraph that I thought was so crucial to a scene...isn't.

So I'm tweaking here and there. Removing sentences, moving things around, taking things out (did you just hear that scream? It was my editor, Karen), and now I've got this brief document full of stuff that I need to work in elsewhere. Maybe. It's information that either the character, or the reader, didn't need to know (or ponder) at that point in the story. It slowed the pace. Or simply wasn't crucial to the scene. So, it had to go––to my Final WMH Excerpt File.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could do that with life? Simply review life and decide, "Um, no. Let's not do that there. Let's move that event here. It'll fit much better with the flow and my schedule will accommodate "fill in the blank" much better then. And heavens, let's not let that happen at all!" But as we all know, life doesn't work that way.

Life comes, sometimes in sputters, sometimes in a gentle flow, and sometimes in torrents, and we deal with things as they come with God's strength while, with His grace, keeping our eternal perspective. But you know, in the midst of everything––the highs and lows of life, the "troughs and peaks" as C.S. Lewis phrases it in The Screwtape Letters––it's definitely the thinner times of life, the troughs, that draw me closer to God.

If you haven't read this book, get online today and order a copy. It's a forever book. One you'll read again and again. Chapter 8 is a personal favorite. I ran across my first copy (held together by a rubber band now) while packing and kept it out to read the parts I'd underlined during my college days. They still resonate within me after all these years, as does my firm belief that nothing happens to a believer in Christ that doesn't first filter through the loving hands of their Heavenly Father. Nothing. So, I'll leave the "life editing" safely with the Master Storyteller. He writes with a point of view I simply don't have.

A quick update on the family––
Last week we celebrated our son's 21st birthday. Can hardly believe my baby boy is so grown up. We ate at the Olive Garden (delicious) then came back home to celebrate with a buttermilk pie that didn't turn out as well as I wanted it to. I couldn't find my recipe so used another. Not a good move. So, Kurt, I owe you another pie, buddy. As soon as I unpack my pie plates.

Kelsey and Joe were slightly less thrilled when I whipped out the camera that night.

Ah well...they got over it.

We're about half moved at this stage and will finish up next week. We'll also make a quick trip to Atlanta to move Dad's stuff here. Plus I'm finishing these edits. Things are hopping, but it's all good. God is gracious, and He's been so generous in allowing our house to sell so quickly, especially in this market, and to have Dad and Mom's condo sell quickly as well. I'm grateful.

Thanks again to Deb for filling in for me last week. I think the woman still has another historical in her. And a humorous one at that!

Continued blessings,
Tammy

friends through the years

I'm writing this blog post on Sunday afternoon from a Starbucks' table in the Phoenix airport. I've got a bit of time before I need to go through security and get to my gate, so I thought I'd share my trip. (The photo is me in the airport. Like the hat?)

The Phoenix RWA chapter, combined with the local ACFW chapter, brought me here to speak at the Desert Dreams conference. I decided to come in a day early to enjoy a bit of fun in the sun. Unfortunately, Delta Airlines conspired against me. They canceled one of my flights on Thursday, adding over three hours to my layovers and over two hours to my flight times, plus a change to another airline. By the time I arrived at my hotel a good five hours later than I was supposed to, all I wanted was to eat and go to bed. However, Friday morning found me poolside with my research book. It was quiet and grand. I got just enough sun to have a bit of color without being burned. Wish I could have done that every morning.

But what this post is about is how much fun it is for me to be with other writers. Other writers don't think I'm strange. Well, not that they've told me to my face. We all understand the voices in our heads, that drive we feel to put words on paper, one book after another.

What made this conference even more fun was connecting with a writer I first met back in the mid 80's at my very first RWA conference. We got our starts as published novelists within a year of each other. We hadn't seen each other in years, and it was so much fun to connect and catch up. Life has changed a lot for both of us.

Of all the many things I'm thankful for about my career, I have to say that the friendships it's brought me are what I treasure most of all. Friendships with other writers. Friendships with my readers. Sadly, most of those friendships are with people who live in other states and even other countries.

Isn't it going to be great when we get to heaven, and we won't have to go years and years and years between seeing people we care about? At least I'm pretty sure that's how it will work in eternity. We'll want to see someone and we'll be able to do so without booking a flight, having delays and layovers and lost luggage. No frustration or difficult partings. Just hanging with other folks who love Jesus.

Well, time to go through security. Seeing Poppet and my own comfortable bed and unmatched pillow is looking so good to me now.

~robin

His Name is Wonderful

God. The Great I Am. Adonai. Lord. Father. Jehovah. El Roi. El Shaddai. King of Kings

All names of our Creator. We worship, praise, and hold Him in awe and reverence.

Or do we?

We have praise and worship. We sing of our awe. But when was the last time you heard about revering His Name? I'm not posing a rhetorical question. I'm asking because something is very wrong. This week I started to read a book with an excellent storyline. The moral issues were very definitely from a Christian perspective and I cared about the characters. But I didn't finish it. Won't keep it. Won't pass it to a friend. Won't recommend it. Why? Repeatedly, it used God's name in vain.

"My God!" came straight out of Jesus' mouth as He hung on the cross. In fact, He said it twice in a row. It was a soul-deep cry.

Flip though the Psalms. "Oh, God," and "God," "Lord," "Oh Lord," "My Lord," are there--but the Psalmist is actually calling upon the Lord God Almighty.

Look at those again. How often do we hear the exact, same words used when God is NOT part of the equation? It's become "acceptable" when someone is surprised or disgusted or angry to blurt out or shout His holy name. People speak or write as if God's name has no value--and it's a habit, not a prayer. Often the way speaker is acting, he wouldn't want God to be present. It's sad. It's wrong. And yes, God is there.

And to this, I give a heartfelt, heartbroken, reverent, Lord, have mercy!

Recently a taco place had a big banner out front, OM*! 3 tacos for $2!
My mom went inside and objected.
The manager: "Substitute gosh for the G if it makes you feel better. No one else has complained."
Mom: “Why didn't you write OMB for Oh my Buddah! or OMA for Oh, my Allah!”
Manager: “THAT would offend people.”

NEWS FLASH: God's name is sacred. It isn't just a saying. Nor is His name to be abbreviated to an initial because we're too lazy to pay Him our respect. As Christians we *should* be offended. If we aren't, we're jaded and need to rededicate our hearts, refresh our minds, and purify our mouths and keyboards.

HIS NAME IS WONDERFUL. POWERFUL. SACROSANCT.

Matthew 5 and James 5 both record Jesus' preaching on the matter. He showed reverence for His Father. Speaking to God, about God, or in giving praise and thanksgiving, Christ spoke His Father's name. Anger, grief, excitement--no matter what the circumstance, Christ didn't toss God's holy name in as an exclamation or to emphasize his emotions...yet that's what happens every day, all around us. Sadly, embarrassingly, believers do this. It's no wonder the rest of the world thinks nothing of it.

Exodus 20:7 Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in Vain: for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.
-------AND-----
Leviticus 19:12 And ye shall not swear by my name falsely, neither shalt thou profane the name of thy God: I am the LORD.

Our beloved Jesus took a whip and drove moneychangers from the temple for desecrating God's house. Do you think Christ would stand silent when God's NAME is desecrated?

I am seriously, deeply praying, God help us.

Cathy

Future Writers

A friend from church asked my husband and I to come to her classroom and share what we do regarding writing. Considering we had eight inches of snow two days ago, I was somewhat concerned, but as you can see the picture above - it was a gloriously beautiful day and much of the snow was already gone.

This very rural, small town school had a total of nine kids, spread out from 1st through 3rd grade.

The kids were wonderful and so much fun. I started by telling them that I'm a storyteller. We talked about where stories come from and why it's important to tell stories. We quickly progressed into what it takes to get a book into a published form, and Jim rounded it off with visual aids about the research.

The kids had lots of questions and were so smart. One little girl even told us that she already has a story folder at home where she writes and keeps stories. All of them told us they liked to read - that learning to read was their favorite thing in school.

The teacher is a phenomenal Christian woman who has the patience of a saint. She has this wide range of teaching to give, but always seems to be up-beat and positive. She even has her daughter Sydney in the class! I've always respected teachers - my hat's off to all of them whether they are teaching now or plan to teach or have retired.

Knowledge is power and children are incredible sponges who love to soak up information. Who knows - maybe these are our future storytellers and best-sellers.

When we finished every last child came up and assaulted me with hugs and thank yous. It was incredible fun. I find myself praying for them even as I write this blog. If you haven't connected with a child lately - I highly recommend it. You'll be amazed at what the world looks like through their eyes. As one smart little guy told me, "I like stories because they tell me about things I don't know."
Tracie

New Life Burgeons...

I am not a gardener. Many writers are (visit http://www.novelgarden.blogspot.com/, owned and operated by Deb Raney for proof). Despite my father's amazing abilities to create a Better Homes & Garden-worthy landscape, my thumb is NOT green. In fact, people know to never give me a living plant because I will promptly kill it. I don't set out to end their little lives, I just don't possess the know-how to keep the poor things alive. I'm safer with silk. (Or should I say silk is safer with me...?)

At my former house, I was adept at growing angel flowers. (You know, the ones planted by angels so little kids can pick them without getting into trouble.) But everything I deliberately placed in the ground didn't last. So I quit trying.

Last summer we moved into a new house. Hubby was away on military duty at the time, and I'm not a gardener (did I already establish that?), so the yard was pretty much left alone until now...our first spring in our new house.

Hubby told me last weekend, "We need to get the yard cleaned up."

"We?" I said, expressing my dubiousity (is that a word?) with raised eyebrows. "You want me out there doing yardwork?"

"I'm not going to ask you to plant anything," he assured me (wise man), "but you can rake up dead leaves and pine needles."

Well, now, doesn't that sound like a thrilling pastime? I sighed a few times with sufficient melodrama to show my lack of interest, but he ignored me (he's gotten good at that over the past almost-26 years) and put a rake in my hand. So I raked.

And I discovered the most delightful surprise... Hiding beneath a six-inch accumulation of dead stuff was a carpet of lovely little blue flowers (periwinkle, I've since learned). I felt as though I'd uncovered buried treasure. I dashed to another area and raked, pine needles flying like dirt from a gopher's industrious paws, to find a second spattering of these charming little flowers, this time white.

"Don, look!" I cried, enchanted. He looked, nodded, and said, "There's more pine needles over there. Rake. You're burnin' daylight."

More raking revealed the unfurling leaves of...something. Since the stems are just beginning to break above the soil and aren't bearing blooms of any sort we don't really know what they'll be, but there is definitely evidence of life. Something will blossom there. Such fun!

I have to admit, when I stepped into the yard, rake in hand, I wasn't very enthused. I had no desire to spend my Saturday scraping away piles of brown, withered, dead stuff. But if I hadn't taken the time to peel all the dead away, I would have missed witnessing the first evidences of spring...new life.

Consider 2 Cor. 5:15 (The Message), "The old life is gone; a new life burgeons!" Of course, the scripture refers to men rather than plants, but isn't that what God does for us? He looks at us, sees what we could be, and takes the time to peel away the dry, crusty, dead exterior to reveal fresh, new, beautiful life...

I, for one, am deeply grateful for God's rake and gardening spade.

God bless you muchly as you journey with Him! ~Kim

Keep on Rollin' Along

I had an unusual invitation several months ago. Connie Werner of Werner Wagon Works in Horton, Kansas, emailed and asked if I would come and join her for the opening of her boardinghouse. Connie and her husband, Don, have owned their wagon works for many years now, but Connie decided she wanted to expand a little and open a boardinghouse at their “homestead” outside of Horton. (That's Connie at the right with one of their wagons and the caisson below is being restored for use at Fort Riley, Kansas.)

The Werners started the wagon building and restoration business on a part-time basis and as the business grew, Don was able to commit himself to fulltime restoration and building of wagons—and wagon wheels. They build wagons from the ground-up and Don receives orders for lots of wagon wheels in addition to his other work. They even constructed a wagon that was in a parade in Washington D.C. and delivered the Christmas tree to President George W. and Laura Bush while they were in office.

So, with an opportunity to tour the wagon works, see the rooms Connie has created for her bunkhouse, and speak to some aspiring writers, how could I refuse? To make matters even better, the weather was absolutely beautiful and I enjoyed the drive to Horton—a small town northeast of Topeka that I’d never before visited. I want to go back in December. Connie tells me they will celebrate the twentieth year of their CHRISTmas Luminaries where there are nineteen living scenes of the life of Christ. The scenes are lighted by more than 1400 candles along the way. Doesn’t that sound magnificent? I’m marking my calendar and hoping the weather will cooperate.

As usual, I wasn’t the epitome of organization. I took my camera, but failed to take pictures of the bedrooms in the bunkhouse, but they are delightful. I also was so busy talking to the gals about writing (go figure) that my camera sat neglected on the table. However, I did have my camera in hand when I went for my private tour of the Wagon Works. If you ever have questions about wagons, these folks are authorities. PLEASE visit their website and look at some of Don’s magnificent work. (That's Don on the right--hard at work--even on a Saturday afternoon). Connie and Don recently returned from delivering one of their wagons to Arkansas, so I missed seeing that one, but you’ll see everything from stagecoaches to spring wagons that they’ve authentically reproduced or restored on their web pages. http://www.wernerwagonworks.com/

Connie gifted me with a “leaving doll” as I was departing for home. I had to take a picture of her and hope you can read the message that came with the doll. The afternoon proved a wonderful time of relaxation and restoration while enjoying the beauty of a spring day.

May you find joy as you discover new and interesting history and meet the people who strive to connect us to our past. ~Judy

Why I DON'T write historical novels (by Guest Blogger Deborah Raney)

Hey gang, Tammy here...

I'm currently in Atlanta helping Dad pack up his and Mom's condo (that sold, PTL!) so asked dear friend and writing critique partner, Deb Raney, to guest blog for me today. You'll be sooo glad I did! Enjoy!

When Tammy invited me to guest blog in her place today, I was honored, but my first panicked thought was, "what on earth do I have to say on a blog about historical fiction?" While I love to read historical novels, I've only written one, a novella. (Had it been a full-length historical, I'd still be asking for extensions on my deadline!) The only thing that experience accomplished was to convince me I'd best stick to writing contemporary. Why? Oh, let me count the ways...

My first sentence of my first draft of "Circle of Blessings"––set in 1864 in the Dakota Territory––read something like this:

Heather Bradford grabbed her handbag from the credenza in the parlor and stepped out onto the back deck, panning the horizon.

My fingers paused on the keyboard. Was a purse actually called a "handbag" back then? Better check. Webster said the word "handbag" only came into popular use around 1862. My Heather lived in a rather remote area and was not especially fashion conscious. Not likely she'd have adopted such a newfangled term. Two hours of research later, I settled on "reticule" and hoped my editor would correct me if I was wrong.

Sadly, my research also unearthed the fact that Heather would have to wait at least sixteen years to call her sideboard/buffet a "credenza" since Webster dated that word at 1880. Okay, delete and replace. So now my first sentence read:

Heather Bradford grabbed her reticule from the sideboard in the parlor and stepped out onto the back deck, panning the horizon.

Hmmm...come to think of it, I doubt it was typical to build a deck onto homes back then. Or at least if they did, they'd call it something else. A porch? Or a veranda? Portico, maybe? Terrace? I highlighted the phrase "onto the back deck." My brother is an architect. He probably took some architectural history classes on his way to getting licensed. I could give him a call later.

I read my sentence again. Something still seemed "off." The word "panning" stood out somehow. I looked it up: pan [verb] –– to rotate (as a motion-picture camera) so as to keep an object in the picture or secure a panoramic effect. 1930. Shoot! It was a movie term. I couldn't use a movie term in a novel set in 1864!  Delete delete delete. I was starting to hate this Webster guy.

Heather Bradford grabbed her reticule from the sideboard in the parlor and stepped out onto the porch[?], scanning the horizon.

Wait! Was "scanning" a printing term? You know: PSC. Printer/Scanner/Copier? Consult Webster. Nope, I was okay there. "Scan" was also a legitimate and ancient verb.

But my heroine's name didn't ring true. Sure it was one of the most common and popular names at the time I was writing that novella, but further research revealed that the name was almost nonexistent as a woman's name before 1940.

Okay, fine. I could change her name. My great-grandmother was born around 1880. It would probably be safe to use her name, Stella. Delete delete delete delete.

Stella Bradford grabbed her reticule from the sideboard in the parlor and stepped out onto the porch[?], scanning the horizon.

Three days and 578,642 dead braincells later, I finally had an opening line for my novella, but by now I was second-guessing myself on every single word. Was the word "grabbed" in use back in 1864? Probably, but had the term made its way to the Dakota Territory by then? Was there even a horizon back in 1864? Sheesh!

I finally, finally finished "A Circle of Blessings" and it appeared in the lovely Christmas anthology, A Currier & Ives Christmas. This coming September, A Prairie Christmas Collection, a new anthology of historical Christmas romances, will be released from Barbour Books and my name (along with this blog's own Tracie Peterson) will be one of those on the cover. But don't let that fool you. My offering to that collection of wonderful stories is again "Circle of Blessings," the first, last––and only––historical piece Deborah Raney ever wrote.

And now you know why I write contemporary. And why I have such deep respect for the authors of the historical novels I love to read. Tammy, Cathy, Judy, Kim, Robin, Tracie: my hat (or should that be chapeau?) is off to you!

And our chapeaux off to you, Deb, for a fabulous post!

Tammy