I want to encourage anyonewho is working toward a dream. If you aren’t a writer, wade through the lingo and know this is for you, too.
If there’s one expression every author seeking a traditional contract knows, it is, “The Query Trenches.” The walls are steep, the ground might suck you in, and you’re met with rejection after stinging rejection. A contract is the exception, not the norm. When an author willingly enters the trenches, he is basically saying, “Bring it on, I quite enjoy pain. Let’s have another.”
Maybe you’ve poured years into a project, bleeding your soul onto a page. Maybe you’ve heard, “No,” one too many times. Maybe you’ve begun to question your ability, your talent, or even your calling. I am here to tell you, do not give up.
My husband often reminds me, “This is a marathon, not a sprint.” And even in the most profoundly agonizing rejections, there are blessings. I understand that may sound as if I’m spouting platitudes, but bear with me.
Rejection means opportunity. When our work is rejected, it is a chance for us to see what we could do better. It is an opportunity to learn and grow and be well prepared the next time we stick our necks out. Sometimes, the rejection comes with valuable feedback. Use it!
Sometimes a rejection has nothing to do with the quality of our work but is based on the market or poor timing. “Rejection on a technicality,” a dear friend called it. These rejections, while frustrating, are a good time to step back and evaluate our path. Would a different story sell better, or is this the story your heart must tell? Would self-publishing be a better option, or should you seek out smaller presses? It’s a chance to reassess the best route to get your words into the world.
Rejection is a testing ground. How badly do you want this? How far are you willing to go to obtain it? Can you handle twenty more of these as you strive for your dream? If you’re thinking, “I’ll do whatever it takes,” then dig in. You’re in good company.
In the rejection and in the waiting, we can learn patience and develop a deeper trust in the One who holds it all together. I could write an entire article on the spiritual blessings alone. God doesn’t equip us for a purpose, only to watch us flounder. If we write to honor him, then we must trust him to do what he wants with it. His timing is rarely on our schedule, and his plans may look different than we envision, but the end result is always the best one.
The query trenches… we either surrender and die, or we fight through them. If you’re in the trenches, keep your eyes on your goal. If you’ve had rejections, use them as steppingstones to something better. And keep your head high. You’ve already accomplished something few people do! You’re learning, you’re working hard, and you aren’t going to quit.
Right…?
Onward!
If you need to vent about trenches in your own life, or would like prayer, feel free to reach out!
Writing Updates:
On May 3rd, I had a new flash fiction story, “Recovered,” published with Havok Publishing. As always, they are wonderful to work with. My story is no longer available to the public to read, as each story is free to non-members for only one day. But if you’d like to read other amazing stories with various genres and themes, check out http://gohavok.com.
I’m continuing to search for a publisher and/or agent for my novel/trilogy. The trenches are almost cozy at this point.
Almost.
Fire in the sky!
I had to share these photos with you from the Aurora Borealis last night… in Louisiana! It was such a gift, such a marvelous display of the creativity of a God who wanted even our atmosphere to delight us.
The photos are a bit grainy, so I apologize. But maybe they’ll still make you smile.
It’s hard to believe April has arrived. I hope you all had a blessed Easter. Here in the South, we’re planting gardens and soaking up spring sunshine… and sneezing.
April’s newsletter is a bit different, as the entirety of the letter is the short story I told you about. “Dragon Harvest” won Clean Fiction Magazine’s Windows into the Multiverse writing contest and was published in the magazine on March 20th. I’m thrilled that I can share it with you!
To all subscribers, thank you so much for connecting with me here. I hope you enjoy this quirky little story.
Through the window, I saw my doom reflected in the pink petals of new spring tulips. Harvest Day always ended in blood.
What I wouldn’t give for gloves that withstood tiny dragon teeth—maybe full tulip-picking armor. Each year, the creatures hid under petals and leaves or wrapped around stems, changing their color to match the flowers so perfectly, even our trained eyes missed them.
Until, Chomp.
At least whisp dragons don’t breathe fire or steal livestock—just bits of skin and peace of mind.
I sighed and pulled on the thickest gloves I owned, then stepped out and rang the bell. My workers trudged from their stations, faces tight with the same dread I felt.
Except for one.
Marianne, the new girl, smiled as she looped her leather case across her shoulders. When I hired her, I warned her of the seasonal dragon discomfort. Now I wondered if she misunderstood our conversation, or if the poor girl was daft.
“Beautiful morning!” I let my voice carry over their heads.
A groan went through the group.
“Be fast, but precise.” I swallowed my urge to cringe. “We cannot afford to break a single stem. Marianne, since this is your first time, you’ll go with me.”
I thought the child would start dancing right there.
“I’m afraid you missed the part about dragons when I hired you,” I said as I walked to her.
She shook her head vigorously. “Oh no, Miss Capple.”
“Alys,” I reminded her.
She blushed. “Alys. They’re the reason I wanted this job. Do you know how rare it is to see even one whisp dragon in your lifetime? And you have hundreds!”
No question now—she was daft. I rubbed my scarred arms as we began walking toward the rows. A warm southern breeze hit my face, teasing the brim of my straw hat, and making the tulips bob their heads. She pushed her blonde curls from her eyes and squatted at the first patch we came to. Bright pink and soft peach surrounded us, like the colors of the sky at dusk. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t painful.
“I’ll start here. Maybe one will show itself.”
A yelp from the next row confirmed that would not be a problem.
Marianne looked the flower over before grasping the stem and snipping the base. Just as she started to pull it free, a tiny green dragon leapt from between the thickest leaves, straight onto her wrist.
Chomp.
Marianne flinched. “Let go,” she said, with unnatural calm.
The creature bore down harder.
“That will be quite enough. No one wants to hurt you, so you shouldn’t hurt us, either.”
The whisp dragon dislodged its bite. “Liar!”
I nearly fell to the ground. Did that creature just speak?
Another green peeped from the next flower and jumped on her hand, teeth finding her finger like lightning.
Marianne stiffened. “Stop.”
Her voice was firmer now. She would resort to slinging them off soon enough.
The dragon growled as it sank its teeth further, shaking its head like a dog with a rope.
“You’re quite ferocious,” Marianne said.
The whisp let go and looked at her with disgust.
“I am ferocious, you patronizing, daisy-haired liar.” He squeaked as he spoke.
Marianne gave a gentle smile. I’d hoped she’d slap them away.
“I do have daisy hair. And I didn’t mean to patronize. But I am not a liar.”
“You said you aren’t here to hurt us.” Another dragon, pink like the petals it emerged from, slid down the stalk and hopped across the soil to the toe of Marianne’s boot, baring her teeth.
“We have to work,” I told the whisp. “Go away.”
Marianne plopped down in the soil. If this girl was going to waste valuable time talking to flesh-hungry dragons, I was going to terminate her employment. Instantly.
She leaned toward them. “Why do you say I am lying about not wanting to hurt you? Unless you mean after you’ve bitten someone, in which case you simply must accept that as a normal reaction to pain.” She looked at the first tiny dragon and raised a brow. “And it does hurt.”
“Good.” He tilted his head. “This is our home. The tulips are where our babies learn to color change and hop between flowers. There is no better home in the world for whisp dragons.”
Marianne bit her lips, then glanced up at me.
“How long has your family owned this farm?”
“Three generations.” I did not know where she was going with this, and wasn’t sure I liked it.
She turned to the dragons. “How long have your kin lived among the tulips?”
“We came when they did.”
“And prior to that?”
The dragon tilted his head in the other direction. “The forest. There’s not much to practice color changing there. Just forty shades of green and brown.”
Marianne grinned. “If you still had a home, would you bite?”
The pink dragon, whose skin was fading to a peachy silver, huffed. “Of course not! You taste revolting.”
Marianne looked up at me again. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I crossed my arms. “They need to go back to the forest and leave my workers alone?”
Now Marianne grinned at me, as if I was the child and she the wiser. I narrowed my eyes.
“I was thinking something different, actually.”
Two more yelps rang from opposite sides of the field. She turned back to the whisp on her hand.
“You seem like a dragon who knows how to get things done. A leader of dragons.”
The creature stood taller, while the pink one coughed and the other green covered his face with a wing.
“I think we can all be friends,” Marianne continued. “What if we leave half the tulips—”
“What?” I nearly shouted.
That was it. She was fired.
“And in return, you allow people to come and see you? Most humans don’t believe your kind exists at all, and I’d wager Miss Alys hasn’t let word spread beyond the farm, because the prospect of tiny biting dragons hiding in one’s table decorations could slow business a bit.”
I stared, the gears of my mind churning. This girl was brazen, bossy, and—brilliant.
“I’d have to charge for visitors,” I began, and Marianne nodded.
“Yes, like for a carnival.” She swept her hand across the field, crimson trickling down her first finger. “But here, you’re bringing people in to pay for the experience of walking through the tulip fields in all their natural splendor, while offering the chance to find hidden dragons.”
“I suppose they could take a flower home as a souvenir,” I said, watching the vision come to life in my mind. Yes, this could very well work.
“And you dragons must promise never to bite again unless someone is trying to harm you. Otherwise, you’ll be treated like the trespassers you are.”
The dragon on her hand tilted his head again, one ear twitching.
“I would have to convince the others.”
Marianne stood, still holding the dragon. “Tell your fellows to hop on.”
“Hop on?” I did not want to be a tiny dragon carriage.
A swarm of whisps burst from the tulips, latching onto us with stunning speed. I had a green atop my hat, a fading pink perched on each shoulder, and several more clinging to my satchel and dress. I was hesitant to move and accidentally knock one off, thus starting the dragon war anew.
Marianne, covered in a coat of squeaking dragons, beamed at me like sun melting snow.
“Here goes!” She sidled closer and lowered her voice. “I hope I wasn’t out of line. When I see a solution, I pounce.”
I was too afraid to speak. She took my silence as agreement and turned, nearly dancing down the rows, the dragons bouncing along with her steps. I gingerly picked my way to where the nearest group of harvesters was cutting, yelping, and swatting. When they saw the two of us covered in happy dragons, they dropped their tools and stared.
A brown one dislodged her teeth from my foreman’s hand and spat. “Does this mean a truce?” she chirped.
I thought the man would faint.
“Turns out they’re talking, biting dragons.” I smiled an apology to him.
The pink on my right shoulder gave a little laugh, then stretched her wings and walked toward my face. Next thing I knew, she was nuzzling my chin with her rough, scaly nose, but in such a gentle way, I couldn’t help but smile and lean into her.
Another wave of dragons emerged from the flowers and lighted on my harvesters. Marianne threw her head back and laughed. I marveled at her ingenuity and courage, my heart filling with affection I never knew I could possess in all my childless years.
The prospect of bloodless revenue helped, too.
3 responses to “April Newsletter – “Dragon Harvest””
Each March, tiny white daffodils break through a mass of brambles at the back of our property. Every year, I plan to free them, so they can emerge without struggle the next spring. But because they are out of sight, I forget, they fade, and I cannot recall their exact location until they peep through again the next spring.
We think that someone must have had a home on that spot long ago. Occasionally, we’ll find part of an old fence post, or non-native bushes scattered among the trees. My mind wanders to possibilities—who lived here? What happened to their home? It’s as if I’ve stepped back in time, standing where another mother stood while a delighted child pointed to the flowers.
“Look, Mama! Spring!”
That child may be a grandmother now.
Freeing the daffodils from the brambles is like freeing the memories from the erosion of time. Whoever lived here enjoyed the blooms each spring, welcoming the change in season. Now we do the same, sharing the same delight in creation and rebirth across decades—maybe a century.
At the Booth family land, a mass of sunny daffodils graces the front of a white-paneled home that has seen two centuries turn over. While the structure is now beyond use, the flowers still thrive. Family members say they are the offspring of the original bulbs planted when the house was built.
And here, stories abound. Cousins pushed each other on a tire swing too hard, but no one wanted to stop. A pine tree towered above the rest of the woods, and brave boys climbed to the top to view the world. Women took their laundry to the creek to wash. Men went to war. There were fireworks at Christmas, picnics under hundred-year-old oaks, Nanny’s cooking…
Generation after generation was bound to that land with love, sensing something of the sacred in a place filled with stories of those who came before. And every spring, the daffodils remind us that though the seasons pass quickly, and our lives are but a breath, there is always rebirth—rebirth for the land, rebirth for us.
This life may fade before we know it. But the end of our time here is not the end of our time. There is glorious rebirth for those who know the Lord. Life with him is an eternal spring, where creation will not wither and fade, and we will no longer endure the effects of passing years.
My father-in-law knows that feeling. Released from a weakening body, he now has a taste of forever spring. As do my parents. One generation passes to the next, sometimes too early, sometimes tragically, but always into something more.
Winter passes into spring.
Where are you most aware of the miracle of rebirth, both of springtime and of your life?
Publishing Updates
March roared in like a lion, but in the best possible way. My first published Flash Fiction story, “Amethyst Isles,” came out with Havok Publishing on March 1st. My next story with Havok, “The Rejected,” will be out Friday, March 15th. It will be free for the publicthat day only. You can read it at https://gohavok.com/.
Working with Havok Publishing has been an incredible experience, and I plan to submit more stories to them.
On the 20th, my micro-fiction story, “Dragon Harvest,” will come out in Clean Fiction Magazine’s spring edition. This was a fun, quirky story, and I can’t wait to share to share it with y’all. The magazine is available on Amazon, or you can check it out here: https://www.sunsetvalleycreations.com/cleanfictionmagazine
Middle Earth Feast
Thank you so much for subscribing! I am thrilled to be able to connect with you. I’ve attached a file for the Middle Earth Feast I promised—a collection of recipes inspired by The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. Our family enjoys the “hobbit food”, and I hope you will, too!
Today’s newsletter is more update than article. I have news and several changes to share with you. (And someone tell me how we are already a month into 2024!)
WRITING UPDATES
January was a whirlwind month, writing-wise. I have two flash fiction stories coming out with Havok Publishing in March. It was the first time I’d worked with an editor, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I plan to continue to submit stories to Havok—I’m hooked on Flash Fiction, and I love what Havok does.
If you aren’t familiar with Havok Publishing, check out their website. They publish a new quick read every weekday—perfect if you need an escape during your lunch break, or a fun read aloud with your family at night.
I submitted a short story to Clean Fiction Magazine’s Windows into the Multiverse Writing Contest. I went far outside my usual style and had an absolute blast. Results should be in on February 8th, but the pure enjoyment of writing was worth entering!
The biggest news I have is that a publisher has shown interest in my proposal. While this may still end with the rejection folder, I am encouraged. The wonderful truth of the writing world, from what I have seen, is that editors and agents really want us newbies to succeed. It feels like a community—vast and varied, but full of camaraderie.
NEWS
There may be major changes to the website soon. The “.com” model is simply not meeting my needs. I have a fun gift for my subscribers, but in the WordPress.com format, I am unable to send it. From what I’ve researched, a “.org” model is what I should have started with. Unless I learn something new about my current setup, my goal this month is to (hopefully) transition from “.com” to “.org.”
Of course, my tech-deficient self may learn something entirely different from anything I just mentioned. Regardless, I’m striving for significant improvement. Thanks for bearing with me. (Prayers appreciated! I still have so much to learn.)
I’m also changing from bi-monthly posts to a monthly newsletter. I will still post articles, but not as often—I don’t want to blow up anyone’s email!
Thank you all for supporting me and following my journey. You have encouraged my heart, and I hope that in some small way, I’m able to encourage yours as well.
COMMUNITY
Another reason January seemed to fly is that my father-in-law passed away a bit over a week ago. It was unexpected and tragic. But we had such love and support from our church family that we felt God’s comfort in beautiful ways. Our dear friends got our children and kept them until late in the night. Our pastor checked on us every day. The church provided a feast for the family on the day of the funeral and brought meals to the house for a few days. What a huge help when you’re bone-tired and sorrowful!
And always, the hugs and whispers of, “I love you.” “I’m praying.” “I’m here.”
My husband and I have experienced several losses since we married. In every situation, we’ve felt the love of God through His people, lifting us—carrying us at times—though dark valleys. We cannot imagine facing some of these losses without Him, and without a church family.
Do you have a church family, a spiritual community who will rally around you and hold you up? A fellowship where you can serve and hold others up, as well? If not, I hope you will find one. We weren’t meant to go through life’s struggles alone, and there is such strength in community.
If you have any questions or would like to talk about a church community, please email me. I’d love to chat with you. And if there is any way I can pray for you, let me know. I would be honored to lift you up.
I’m often asked how it is possible to homeschool my children and pursue a career as an author at the same time. After all, my boys are home most of the day, and school takes hours of planning and teaching. The questions are frequent enough that I decided to write a post on it.
Many successful authors are also homeschool mothers. If you’re wondering if writing while you homeschool is possible for you, maybe I can encourage your heart and your dreams.
Perhaps you’re already working toward that goal. If you are a mama grasping every free minute to jot down the stories in your head, familiar with the bone aches of midnight and the adrenaline burst of creativity at 3:00 a.m., you are not alone. We’ve all been there.
You can do it, and there are strategies that will help you carve time and find a balance between mothering and writing. (And sleeping. Too many midnight writing sessions wear on body and soul.)
First, there are seasons where we may not be able to write as much as we want to. Just finding time to write when you have little ones, before schooling ever begins, can feel Herculean.
When you’re neck-deep in diapers, sickness, sleepless nights, and all the pressures of mothering little ones, time to write is a luxury. Add in a job, ministry, or community work, and that time grows ever thinner. Those without outside help have even less time. It may feel like you’ll never write the book of your heart.
In that season, focus on the good you are doing in your present role, realizing these chaotic moments will be over before you know it. When you have days or weeks that you cannot dive into your writing, you can still chip away at it. Sneak in writing whenever the littles are napping. Ask your husband or older children to help you carve out an hour by taking over baby duty. Wake early, or stay up late, and write a page. Find the pattern that works for you and stick to it.
When the kids are old enough for school and time opens up, create a schedule for yourself. Plot out your homeschool day and other tasks that must be done. Then work your writing around it. You will find that these times grow along with your children. When they’re old enough to spend hours outdoors building forts or playing streetball with friends (in our case), you can seize those hours for your book.
At some point, your children will be able to do much of their schoolwork independently, allowing you even more time to write. They’ll understand the time you set aside to work on your book, as well.
If you are serious about becoming a published author, I cannot emphasize enough that once you have the time available, you must treat it like a job. Even if you aren’t earning from it for years, it is a job. That’s one reason a schedule is so important. Daily, consistent writing is imperative for success.
That said, it can be difficult to keep priorities straight, especially for those of us with hyper-focused, compulsive creative bursts that last for hours. (Seriously. My mind goes in so many directions at once, I have mental vertigo. It’s a wild ride.)
I have days that I realize I’m not present enough for my boys. Days where I forget to do the laundry and someone—or everyone—is running around searching for socks. Days where my patience with teaching Algebra is on par with my patience for letting a bee hitch a ride on my shoulder. Those are the days God uses to teach me, grow me, and sometimes, rebuke me. I’m a work in progress, and I couldn’t do any of it without His help.
Thankfully, those days are fewer now than they once were. It gets easier as our children get older and become a source of encouragement and enthusiasm.
My kids are old enough now to see themselves as part of the team. They like to sneak behind me and read over my shoulder as I write. When we walked into a bookstore recently, my oldest saw a wall of new releases and gasped. “Mom! Just imagine, this could be filled with your books!”
He made my day.
If you are in a season where you can go full-bore into your writing, embrace it, structure it, and let those words flow! If you’re in a season where time is a luxury, make the most of what you’ve got and rest in knowledge that this season will pass in a blink. Enjoy the time your children are little. Tend to the eternal in your home before the eternal in your words.
When you write with a kingdom perspective, you can trust God to work in your writing and grow you through your efforts. If you can surrender your writing to His will, and your timing to His perfect plan, no season or dry spell is wasted.
One page at a time, my friends. Eventually those pages will make a novel. No matter how much time you have available to write, keep plugging away. Pray. And watch your story unfold.
You can do it.
If you’re a mama-author (homeschooling or not) how do you make it work for your family? Please share in the comments!
2 responses to “Can I Homeschool My Children and Still Write a Novel?”
Phillip Booth
I don’t do it…but then again, I don’t write. Ha! My story would go something along these lines if I ever did write….”I threw a rock in a pond. It made ripples and they got bigger. Then they disappeared. So i threw another rock and thus it starts again. “
How did 2024 get here so fast? I remember my grandfather telling me, long before I was mature enough to understand, that each year goes by faster than the one before it. The older I get, the more I can relate to how he must have felt. Yet, as each year passes, I still feel the tingle of anticipation for what might be.
It is a new year, after all.
Most of us view the new year as a chance for a new beginning. Maybe it is a time to right a wrong or correct a toxic habit. Maybe we make resolutions to read more, sleep more, or pray more—or eat less, spend less, or worry less. While resolutions are meant to change something, goals are what we hope to accomplish. Eating less may be the resolution to the goal of reaching a certain weight. Developing an organizational system may be the resolution to enable a writer to meet a deadline.
Have you ever set a goal, whether for the new year or not, and found yourself held back by fear? We make a plan that we know is good for us, but a gnawing voice in the back of our mind tells us that we can’t. It’s too hard, too much, too late.
My fear over the last year revolved around wondering if I started my writing journey too late—if I’m too old to just be embarking on something that already takes years for many people.
It hasn’t helped that life taunts me with my increasing age in ways that have nothing to do with writing. Like a bad joke—or a good sitcom—the comedy keeps coming, and I’m the punchline. I have to laugh, because these age reminders are usually the result of some mishap, like the day I turned disco.
One Sunday morning, as I rushed to get ready for worship, I grabbed a new eyeshadow and went through the motions without really paying attention to how it looked. Mamas out there, you know how this goes. You’re trying to get yourself ready, while answering a dozen questions from children, and directing them to find their shoes/Bibles/clothes/notebooks, while scurrying back and forth to the stovetop to make sure you don’t burn what you’re bringing to the church potluck lunch. Multitasking is a mother’s superpower.
Just before we left the house, I glanced in the mirror once more, and my heart froze. I was glittering. My new eyeshadow was not the subtle, middle-age-appropriate shimmer I thought I’d purchased, but the glittery kind for a college-aged party girl. I wiped my eyes during the drive to church, dismayed at how accurate the “smudge-proof” advertising was for this product.
If not for the new wrinkles that recently invaded my face, I wouldn’t even bother with it in the first place. But now my cute little lines simply sparkled as I entered a holy time looking like a walking disco ball.
At least everyone knows I’m not an attention hog. They also know I’ve not yet left my awkward stage. Maybe nobody noticed?
As funny as these embarrassing age-moments are, others really sock a punch to my heart.
I began querying and submitting proposals for my novel just after I turned 42. I’ve written nearly all my life and always wanted to pursue a career as an author, but circumstances did not allow it for many years. I’m finally at the point to take the next step with my work.
At 42, I’m the oldest in most of my writing circles—old enough to be many a young author’s mama.
“You young’uns don’t know how good you have it. Why, I remember the old days when I wrote my first book on a typewriter!” (Said in my best Granny Clampit voice.)
Sometimes I wonder if I got to the game too late. As many years as it typically takes to get published, will I be 50 before my career begins? That sinister little voice likes to bully me with, “You should have started this ten years ago.”
No matter what our goal is, this is how fear works. It digs in where we’re most vulnerable, preying on our insecurities. Though it feels powerful, what we fear is usually not grounded in what is real.
The words, “fear not,” are found in Scripture 365 times—that’s a reminder for every day of the year. God is amazing like that. When I’m besieged by fear of any kind, it helps to go to His Word.
For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. – Isaiah 41:13
For God gave us not a spirit not of fear, but of power and love and self-control. – 2 Timothy 1:7
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths. – Proverbs 3:5-6
At the risk of taking these verses out of context, I find tremendous comfort and calm for my soul when I see how God encouraged the hearts of His people through the centuries. He wants the same peace and trust for us. Fear is human, but God is a God of empowerment.
Now, am I saying that we can have anything we dream of if we work hard and don’t let fear hold us back? No. I am saying, we cannot allow fear to hold us back from pursuing a goal that we have prayed over and given over to God. The ultimate outcome is His, but if we never try, we will never know what He might have done with us.
May you experience the peace of God’s presence as you trust in His promises.
Have you experienced fear holding you back from pursuing a goal? What helped you overcome it?
4 responses to “New Year’s Visions—Don’t Let Fear Sabotage Your Goals”
betsystamant
Loved this message! And just to encourage you – a dear woman in the ACFW who recently passed away in her 80s, got her first book contract at 60 years old ❤ Sweet Martha! 🙂 I also have a great writer friend in the ACFW who went back to school and got her librarian degree at age 50! She now works full time at her local library and loves it. Betsy St. Amant HaddoxEditor & Author Coach at Storyside LLC Author of: Love Arrives in Pieces, The Key To Love, & Tacos for Twowww.betsystamant.com
Many of the writers who’re in the same place I am in their writing journey are 10-15 years younger than me. But when I stop and look back at who I was at their age, I know I wasn’t ready to be where I am now. God has changed and grown me through unique experiences, people, and stories, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. What has helped me so much is remembering that I’m preparing for Eternity. Everything I do here on Earth is a stepping stone for what’s to come. Instead of looking at those around me, I can look forward, to That Great Hope.
Because I’m not in my teens and twenties, I have a foundation that others significantly younger than me just don’t have, because they haven’t had time to build it yet. I know who I am in Christ. I know how He’s worked in the past. I’ve seen the impossible. And I have a confidence in Him that has weathered incredible storms. In Christ, my Faith is unshakeable, and He’s proven that to me over and over.
Thank you for sharing your words– such a great reminder to keep our eyes on Him! Amen to all you said! It’s all leading to something much more wonderful than anything we can imagine. He says He puts eternity in our hearts, and I long for the day I can see Him face to face.
The table is a sacred space, offering more than food.
It is where a family bonds after a long day, sharing trials and troubles, hopes and laughter. It is where we bring others not of our blood into our family for the time. It is the beating heart of Christmas in the home. Those who sit around it hear magic woven over a meal, born of memory and passed through generations.
When we share the table with the ones God gifted to us, time and distance begin to blur, and we enter something greater than ourselves—something of the eternal.
When I was a child, I listened wide-eyed to the tales told around our Christmas table. One of my grandfathers played in a country bluegrass band during the Great Depression. My other grandfather mapped enemy troop movements from a plane over the Pacific during World War II. Two brothers ran into each other in newly liberated France after months of wondering if the other was alive. My great-grandmother defied all convention at the turn of the century, eschewing marriage until much later in life and working as both a boardinghouse keeper and full-time nurse.
Their stories shaped my view of the world and who I wanted to be. We share stories of those who came before us, often unaware of how their choices made us who we are. Those same people, only met through others’ memories, sat around the Christmas table sharing stories of the ones who came before them. Every story connects to every other story.
The meal we share often carries stories and history of its own. My grandmother’s dressing recipe came from her mother, and from her mother before that—at least five generations sat together over the same dish that I make for my family now. Whether using an old recipe or trying something new, the Christmas table facilitates conversation just as delicious food bonds people through shared pleasure. It is another of God’s good gifts to us.
The most beautiful part is that this all happens around the celebration of the greatest story ever told—a story that we are all living out right now.
Sometimes, though, the Christmas table is not a place of reminiscing and sanctuary. For those of you who are dreading the stories to be told around your table, whose family relationships are tense or broken, or whose family has passed away, I stand with you in spirit. My parents and many beloved relatives are gone now, and the ache is pronounced at Christmas. I am praying for you to feel an extra measure of comfort this year. (Feel free to email me privately if you would like specific prayer about this, and I will lift you up.)
No matter our background or wounds, God can make a new story from the memories in our hearts or the fragments in our hands. With His help, it can be fuller and more beautiful than we could have imagined, and one we delight in passing on to those who come after us.
I want to leave you with a small Christmas gift, something our family enjoys every year. This easy gingerbread cookie recipe is a staple at the Booth house. I found a similar recipe many years ago and tweaked it until I had it the way we prefer—soft, with ample spice. My boys decorated the batch below.
Merry Christmas, from my story to yours.
Soft Gingerbread Cookies
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1⁄2 teaspoons baking powder
3⁄4 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon ginger, plus another tiny pinch
1 3⁄4teaspoons cinnamon
1⁄4 teaspoon ground cloves
6 tablespoons butter (salted)
3⁄4 cup dark brown sugar
1 large egg
1⁄2 cup molasses
2 teaspoons vanilla
In a small bowl, whisk together all dry ingredients.
In a large bowl, beat butter, brown sugar, and egg on medium speed until well blended.
Add molasses and vanilla and continue to mix.
Mix in dry ingredients until blended.
Let dough stand at room temperature for at 2 hours. (I have chilled it before if I won’t be able to get back to it after 2 hours, and it works fine, too. The only difference is that it seems to make the dough a bit drier.)
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Place dough on a lightly floured surface and roll to about 1/4-inch thick.
Cut out cookies and space 1 1/2-inches apart on a baking sheet.
Bake for 8-10 minutes.
Allow the cookies to stand until firm enough to move to a wire rack.
Once cooled, decorate with a powdered sugar glaze or royal icing.
Royal Icing:
1 ½ cups powdered sugar
2 tablespoons warm water
½ tablespoon light corn syrup
1/8 teaspoon vanilla (or almond, depending on what type of cookies you’re making)
Stir well, until you’re able to pour a spoonful out into the bowl and it smooths back into the mixture in ten seconds.
Enjoy!
4 responses to “Stories Around the Christmas Table”
Wow, those are incredible life stories! I’d love to hear more about your great grandma that ran a boardinghouse—she sounds like a true Renaissance woman!
‘Tis the season for presents and parties, food and fun. Oh yeah, and Jesus is in there somewhere, too, right?
In our break-neck, entertainment-driven culture, it’s easy to lose sight of why Christmas exists. Even when I tried to be intentional about how our family spent time during December, I felt the rush, the overwhelm, and the excitement overshadow what is holy and sacred. Then I learned about the opportunity that awaits in Advent.
The word “advent” comes from the Latin word for “arrival”. Advent begins the fourth Sunday before Christmas and ends on Christmas Eve. It is a time to look back, remembering the faith of those who waited for the Messiah to come. We remember how, centuries later, God the Son became a man and chose to live among the people He would die to save.
It is a time to look ahead, remembering His promise to return for us and make all things right. We live in the days of Christ the Messiah, who revealed the Godhead to us and demonstrated his transformative love.
Advent is not a command or an obligation, but an opportunity to focus on God with intention. I did not grow up observing it, but in my quest to go beyond the commercial entertainment of Christmas, I needed something solid to direct my efforts. I began exploring Advent—how Christians have observed it for generations, and how our family might observe it now. I wanted my children to think about more than presents.
In the beginning, I read Matthew’s and Luke’s accounts of Jesus’ birth as we visited over breakfast. One year, we read through the prophecies that Jesus fulfilled. Another year, we studied the names of God.
This year, we have moved our daily Advent readings to the nighttime for our family Bible study. My husband reads a passage and devotional, and we have a discussion after. Our oldest enjoys participating and asking questions, while our youngest prefers to listen.
We also make sure to join our church’s outreach. Each year, our church participates in local food drives, delivers boxes of Christmas meals, or fills toy and clothing needs for the impoverished in the parish. Our boys expect this and look forward to jumping in to help.
We still enjoy all the Christmas fun that we can fit in and have many traditions that we hope our children will remember fondly as adults. Every activity is a chance for connection.
I am thankful for the opportunity of Advent. As one who struggles with surrendering my plans and desires, I need the reminder of who I am in Him and what I am here for. Advent gives us that time set apart to remember, to hope, and to prepare.
If you would like to go deeper with this, check out these resources:
Advent for Your Kids – Focus on the Family This article explores the specific traditions some Christians employ for Advent, as well as gives a brief overview of the symbolism of each advent week.
The Invitation of Advent – Teach Them Diligently This website is full of great ideas, a daily scripture reading plan to follow, and age-based resources to incorporate Advent into your family’s season. It is also one of my favorite homeschool resources.
Before I begin, I want to tell each of you how thankful I am for you. Thank you for subscribing, for reading this blog, and for your sweet support. You encourage this writer’s heart, and I hope I can encourage you, as well.
Thanksgiving season is such a gift. It’s a time to reflect and remember, to count our blessings and not our lacking. Introspection leads to outward praise.
It’s easy to feel thankful when life is going smoothly, but what about in times of prolonged stress or disappointment? When you feel like a hamster in a wheel, on a mad dash to nowhere? When you’ve worked and sacrificed, but you cannot see the finish line? Maybe you begin to wonder if there even is a finish line.
Stress is a sneaky monster. It leaves us heavy and on edge, and blocks the view of our blessings, inch by inch, until stress is all we can see.
I know this too well.
Yet, even in the midst of it, we can find reasons to be thankful and evidence that God is walking through it with us. We can have confidence that he will honor His word to us.
Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good. His steadfast love endures forever. – Psalm 136:1
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. – 2 Corinthians 4:18
God is our safe place and our strength. He is always our help when we are in trouble. So we will not be afraid even if the earth is shaken and the mountains fall into the center of the sea, and even if is waters go wild with storm and the mountains shake with its action… be still and know that I am God. – Psalm 46:1-3, 10
When God tells us to be still, He is inviting us into rest with Him, to allow ourselves to calm and trust Him with our troubles. We have promises, but how can we practically apply that to our situation?
There are many strategies for finding gratitude during stressful times. In this short post today, I’d like to encourage you with a practical exercise that has worked for me. Right now, I am the hamster in a wheel. Some days, it’s all I can do to keep my head above water, and if I am not careful, I will transform into a grump. This meditative exercise helps ground me and keep my focus where it should be—off myself.
First, commit to finding three things in this very moment that you are thankful for. Visualize them. Name them aloud in prayer or write them in a journal.
Next, think of three people you are especially thankful for and tell them why you are thankful for them.
Then—and this is the hardest—think of three blessings in your current stressful situation. It can be something you are learning, experiences you wouldn’t have otherwise, or a deeper understanding of your dependence on God. There is always something there, but to see the blessings through the stress and anxiety, we must intentionally seek them and name them.
Perhaps then, we can see God at work in it more clearly.
Gratitude brings us peace, helps us focus, and reveals purpose. Gratitude is not only necessary for wholeness and holiness, but it is the ultimate weapon against discontent, withering it against the view of the One who holds everything in His hands.
While we cannot always control the challenges and burdens of our lives, we do have a way to see beyond them, through the lens of gratitude. I am thankful that stressful seasons are just that—seasons, and seasons pass.
May your Thanksgiving be peaceful and full of joy, and may you feel the love of the God who cares for us beyond our comprehension.
National Novel Writing Month—NaNoWriMo for short—is a global event where writers commit to writing a 50,000-word novel in November. What began as a small group now includes tens of thousands of participants, a massive support organization, set rules, and writing groups. The phenomenon has even birthed several best-selling novels, and “NaNoWriMo” is part of an author’s lexicon.
Writing a novel in a month may sound daunting, foolish, even preposterous. Is it really possible?
Yes and no. 50,000 words does not constitute a full-length novel in most genres. For a rough draft however, it is perfectly acceptable. You can add to it through your rewrites and edits, but for now you’re just getting that story out in its rawest form. It is possible to reach that word count in a month and improve your craft in the process.
You don’t have to officially join or declare anything to jump in NaNoWriMo. Some writers don’t want the pressure and rules of it, preferring to maintain their own course and pace. I say, if NaNoWriMo is more hindrance than help, forgo it for your own path. But for those who are curious as to whether it would help or be worth the time commitment, look at these compelling reasons to participate:
You’ll develop discipline and a working writing habit.
You have an opportunity to connect with other writers, create friendships and find support for this and other writing endeavors.
You will keep accountable to yourself (and writing partners), which helps you stay on track on difficult days.
Practice makes perfect—you’ll strengthen your skills.
At the end, you will see what you’re able to accomplish, and it feels amazing.
Writer friends, have you accepted the NaNoWriMo challenge? If so, here are a few strategies to win the month:
Dedicate a set time and space.
Just like with our regular writing routines, having a dedicated space away from distraction is vital to cranking those words out. Even more importantly, you must set apart time each day to ensure you meet your goals. Maybe, like me, you write better early, before the rest of your crew wakes up. Maybe you are better at night, or maybe you need several smaller windows scattered throughout the day to get it done. Just commit to the time you decide on and stick to it
Let the words flow.
NaNoWriMo is for writing a rough draft—not a completed, edited manuscript. Let your words pour out as unhindered as you are able. Do not edit, do not go back and fix anything, and do not worry about all those squiggly red lines traversing your screen. Rough drafts are supposed to be rough. Think of this as building the bones of your work, and when you begin editing, you can rebuild and strengthen as needed.
Note- this process is tremendously more fluid if you have already outlined and plotted your beats and scenes. But if you are “pansting” the entire thing, more power to you. I’ve done both, and my only hang-up with pantsing is that I’ve missed scene beats, which caused the editing on the backside to take longer.
Seek accountability and support.
One thing I am learning is what an invaluable gift writing peers are. We all need someone to read, critique, and cheer our work. Joining a writing group, a NaNoWriMo group, or even partnering with a friend is a great way to stay on track and have support for the inevitable stress and blank-page days. These relationships may continue beyond NaNoWriMo, fostering mutual encouragement and feedback for years to come.
Set goals with grace for yourself.
To reach 50,000 words in a month, you need to average around 1,667 a day. Let’s be candid—some days, it just won’t happen, and you’ll have to adjust accordingly. With Thanksgiving, family visiting, travel, and school breaks, few can meet the goal every day.
I will always say that time with family trumps writing goals. You can add some time on to other days to make up for the deficit. With NaNoWriMo, I’ve had days where I’ve written nothing, and days where my husband took our boys to the woods for some “dad time” and I’ve spilled out 4,000 before they got home. (With lots of red squiggles).
Find a way to fit it in, and don’t worry about the days you do not write.
If you do not reach 50,000 by November 30, it doesn’t mean you failed. The act of accepting this challenge and giving it all you’ve got is reason enough to celebrate. Whether you wrote your rough draft, or just made great progress into it, you should be proud. NaNoWriMo is not for the faint of heart. It takes discipline, perseverance, and determination. Which brings me to my next point…
Whether you slew 50,000 or 30,000, reward yourself. Celebrate your accomplishment. My perfect reward is something chocolate and a The Lord of the Rings marathon. (My tastes are rather simple).
I have done NaNoWriMo in the past. I’ve reached the goal before, and I’ve missed it by a long shot other years. Life happens. It was still such empowering motivation, growing my creativity and my craft.
This past August, I began the second novel in the Rensong series, and decided to tackle it NaNoWriMo style. Though 50,000 words is less than half the length of my epic fantasy novels, I passed the word count in August and completed the first draft near the end of September. My previous NaNoWriMo experience prepared me mentally to take on such a behemoth. I’ve never written so much so fast, and while it needs a lot of work and rewriting, I love the way it came together.
This November, I am torn between another novel I’ve outlined and several short stories spinning through my head. I plan to break the rules and focus much of the month on the short stories before working on the novel. I’ve still committed to the daily word count, and though my unorthodox plan is not technically NaNoWriMo, I will use the motivation in the way that best meets my writing needs.
If you choose to accept this commitment, you may surprise yourself with your own creativity when you unleash your imagination under the discipline of hard work. Go into it with dedication and grace, and let those stories pour out. Pray over your words before you begin each day. Embrace the challenge.
You can do this.
Are you planning to slay NaNoWriMo? Let us know in the comments below. We can encourage each other!
* Though I usually post on Thursday (bi-weekly, with exceptions), I chose to post this a day early, since November 1st is the start of NaNoWriMo.
2 responses to “NaNoWriMo—Strategies to Slay the 50,000”
Jen Booth 
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