Blogger: Wendy Lawton

Location: Back in the Central California Books & Such Office

I’m back home, fondly remembering my time away and savoring my return home. That’s your final word for this week– savor.

I thought a lot about that word over Christmas. I love Christmas– the decorations, the food, the family, the music, the smells. Everything. I’ve learned to savor Christmas. Confession: Our tree goes up the day after Thanksgiving and does not come down until epiphany. This year we took down the outside lights so no one would know we were still fully decorated inside and still enjoying the sparkle and warmth. We savor the whole season.

But then I savor spring as well. And I love fall. I savor time with my grown kids and with my almost two-year-old grandson. I savor food (too much) and movies and books. (Books!) I savor time with friends and long evenings with only my husband. You are probably nodding your heads, right?

As writers, part of that savoring is seeing the world in a deeper way. Looking at things from all angles. Using our five senses and examining things in all their dimensions. Our job is to see things deeply and then to help our readers see them in a new way. G. K Chesterton wrote, “The modern world has far too little understanding of the art of keeping young.  Its notion of progress has been to pile one thing on top of another, without caring if each thing was crushed in turn,  People forgot that the human soul can enjoy a thing most when there is time to think about it and be thankful for it.  And by crowding things together they lost the sense of surprise; and surprise is the secret of joy.”

People forgot that the human soul can enjoy a thing most when there is time to think about it and be thankful for it. Wise words.

Do you savor things? Do you ever set aside time to just do nothing but enjoy the moment? Do you feel guilty about “doing nothing” or do you realize it is the secret of joy as Chesterton said. Encourage us to savor. Tell us how you do it.

Blogger: Wendy Lawton

Location: Round Top, Texas

This last fall my husband and I went to a prayer retreat that had one purpose– to help us learn to listen. I was shocked to discover how powerful listening is. I’ve been trying to put it into practice as a spiritual discipline.

As writers, listening is doubly important. We are called to listen to the world around around us. How can we honestly write if we are not listeners? Novelists know this. Lauraine Snelling, the bestselling writer of both historical and contemporary fiction was just telling me about something that happened to her as she was driving through the desert a couple of weeks ago. She heard a voice saying one poignant line. Lauraine says she nearly had to pull the car to the side of the road. She could picture the scene from that one line. She started crying and knew she had to know the rest of the story. It will be the centerpiece of her next book.

(Those of you who do not write fiction are probably creeped out by that– voices and all. It’s not a serious illness. Trust me, for novelists, it’s quite normal.)

Lauraine is a listener.

Over the last three days I encouraged you to dream, to risk and to ask. All proactive words. Now it’s time to listen. It’s an important word to work into your goals for the year. The more you listen, the more you’ll have to write.

So help us with this word. Have any of you discovered new ways to listen? Have you experienced the power that comes with listening? Share with us what you’ve learned.

Blogger: Wendy Lawton

Location: Round Top, Texas

Yesterday at our meeting here in Texas I gave the morning meditation. It was titled, “So What Do You Want?”  Earlier this year I read the account in Mark 10:51 of Jesus leaving Jericho, followed by a large crowd. A blind beggar, Bartimaeus, called out loudly, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.” The crowd tried to shush him– it was embarassing– but he persisted. Jesus told them to bring the man to him. I can just picture the scene: Jesus, the miracle worker, looking at this blind man standing before him. You’d think with the crowd pushing in and the whole entourage trying to get on the road Jesus would just reach out and heal the man but instead he did a curious thing. He said, “What do you want?”

Duh!

Why do you suppose it was important for this man to put his request into words?

There’s an important lesson for all of us here. We need to be specific about what we want. the Bible says, ask and the door shall be open. Hmmm. sounds like a promise. So how do we apply that to our quest for a career as a writer?

Just as we, as agents at Books & Such, write specific goals, it is important for writers to be just as intentional. Dreaming big is engaging the imagination. What can you dream if you take away the fear of sounding foolish. And how far can go if you are willing to risk big? Then say it out loud.

Ask.

At first you will couch it in all kinds of disclaimers. “If it’s not too much to ask. . .”, “I don’t want to seem greedy, but. . .”, “If it be your will, Lord.” (This one goes without saying.) Don’t hem and haw. Just ask.

My friend, New York Times #1 Bestselling author, Debbie Macomber, has long known the secret of boldly asking. She showed me her journal entry from January 1, 1977 where she said, “The deepest desire of my life is to somehow, some way be a writer. I should start with the pages of this journal to practice for the future. And the most important thing in my life is to serve the Lord Jesus Christ, my Savior.” Debbie committed her dream to words. More than that, she asked for it.

She’s been a proponent of writing down goals and dreams for a long time. Of asking. If you’ve ever heard her speak you’ve probably seen her hold up a colored index card she rediscovered on which she had boldly written a list of outrageous dreams — all of which had long since come true. She often hands out colored index cards to everyone in the audience and waits while they pen some of their most audacious dreams. I still have mine tucked in a pocket of my folio inside my purse. It’s an exercise in asking.

I’m not going to request that do your asking here in the blog comments since it’s not me who is asking the question, “What do you want?” I’m going to encourage you to be bold, take a risk and go to that Man who stopped by the roadside in Jericho to help a blind Bartimaeus put his dream into words.

Ask. It’s powerful stuff.

Location: Round Top, Texas

Every year the agents at Books & Such spend some serious time setting professional goals. We have to commit to paper what we want to accomplish including specific financial and performance goals. Last year was a record year for me. I surpassed my sales goal in early September and ended up going almost 60% over my goal.  It led me to thinking about risk. As I was chewing on what to do for 2012, here’s what I wrote, in part, to my fellow agents:

I’ve been back and forth about my Books & Such goals because I sold so much this year and so many of my clients are already contracted. So does that mean I should be realistic for 2012 and set a lower goal? As I’ve been thinking about taking risks I’m realizing it’s not what we do that counts, it’s about how big we think our God is. He plainly asks us, “What do you want?” (Mark 10:51) He wants us to put it in words! I took baby steps in doing this for 2011 but it increased my faith in leaps and bounds. A skeptic might say that by asking for something specific we just work all that much harder to get it. He might say it wasn’t really God, it was just hard, focused work. That may be part of it, but my prayer journal and some amazing “coincidences” disprove that theory.

So, about taking risks– I think I need to ask for big enough results that I can clearly see it’s all God and very little me. Sometimes this is scary. What if we ask, believing, and it doesn’t happen? Will it diminish my faith? Will it diminish God? That even sounds silly, doesn’t it. If he says no, for whatever reason, we’ll dig into that and figure out what he’s teaching us. Either way, our faith will grow.

I’ve decided I need to be bold on behalf of my clients (and because I’m becoming addicted to seeing God move mountains as a result of prayer). He can do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine! (Ephesians 3:20) Immeasurably more.

Part of the reason I’m talking about risk is that I’m doing a long distance Bible study with my husband and grown kids. It’s the one I mentioned yesterday, Chase the Lion, based on Mark Batterson’s book In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day. It’s about stepping confidently into the unknown, taking risks and meeting challenges. I tend to want to lead a conservative, safe, peaceful life while all the time God is challenging me to strap on my helmet and take a dive into adventure. Batterson says, “The world is full of cautious and prudent people who will live fine, long lives. But chances are if you spend your life in an attempt to eliminate risk, uncertainty and fear you will miss out on some of the most amazing experiences a person can have with Jesus.”

So what about you? Are you willing to take risks? What about banging on some of those doors in publishing marked “no admittance.” How about risking to write that book that may be outside the parameters of what is selling right now? What about diving right in and doing multiple submissions to both agents and publishers who still take unsolicited queries? If you are dreaming big, what are you willing to risk to reach for those dreams?

Location: Round Top, Texas

Elizabeth Barrett Browning said: “God’s gifts put man’s best dreams to shame.”  At the beginning of a new year, our job is to dream.

Hopefully by now, you’ve spent time analyzing the past year. Socrates said that the unexamined life is not worth living. I believe that. So once you’ve looked over 2011– seeing what goals were met, which were left for the coming year and which ones no longer matter– you’re ready to embrace another year. Wouldn’t it be awful if there were no new beginnings? If every day just lined up in a row? No Mondays. No Januarys. No first day in a new birth year. No opening day of school. No first game of a new football season.

Happily, that’s not the case. We are a people of new beginnings. My friend and client, Debbie Macomber, just celebrated the launch of her newest book, One Perfect Word. More than twenty years ago, Debbie and a group of her friends decided to pick one word for each year. Over the years that practice has shaped her life. When she took time to intentionally focus on just one word for a whole year it not only changed her life but it changed the lives of those around her. Debbie says in the book, “In this information age words swirl around us every day. Tens of thousands of words—maybe a hundred thousand words on a crazy, busy day. We read newspapers, we check out blogs, we may follow Facebook and even Twitter. We respond to e-mail and we listen to real people talking . . . and talking . . . and talking. We drive with the radio on. We try to squeeze in time to read books and magazines. We may turn on the television at night. Words come at us incessantly.” She suggests we all go on a word diet and instead of trying to take in millions of words we concentrate on one word. One perfect word.

I started following her practice a few years ago when I read her book Thursdays at Eight. I highly recommend it. In fact so much so that I decided to choose just one word to blog about each day this week. I chose five words that are vitally important to you on your writing journey. Of course they are five words that are vital to living a life that matters.

Your word for today is: Dream.

We are called to dream. To imagine what could happen. I’m reading a book that just came out a couple of weeks ago,The Circle Maker by Mark Batterson. If you want to be challenged to live big, this is the book for you. In it, Batterson says, “If you’ve never had a God-sized dream that scared you half to death, then you haven’t really come to life. If you’ve never really been overwhelmed by the impossibility of your plans, then your God is too small. If your vision isn’t perplexingly impossible, then you need to expand the radiuses of your prayer circles.”

Perplexingly impossible. That sounds like trying to get published in this ever changing climate doesn’t it? In the Bible study, Chase the Lion, based on his other book, In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day, Batterson says, “I think part of us wants God to reduce the obstacles. We like situations where the odds are in our favor. But sometimes God allows the odds to be stacked against us so he can reveal more of his glory through it.” Hmmmm.

I’m dreaming big for 2012. Dreaming big for myself and dreaming big for my clients. How about you? Are you going to dream impossible dreams? Are you brave enough to tell us what you are dreaming? Remember that when we say the words, we commit to the dream. What are your dreams for the future?

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa, Calif.

The last few days I’ve been exploring trends in our culture that can inform what we write about or how we reach readers. One idea that’s been around for awhile but seems to be experiencing a renaissance is taking your hobby to new heights by attending a crafting retreat. It’s adults meet camp!

The idea is that you not only get away to enjoy fresh air and a new locale, but you also make something while surrounded by other enthusiasts.Makerie is such a camp.Located in Colorado’s Flatiron Mountains, the retreat consists of workshops in letterpress, food styling, photography and embroidery. Toss in breaks for yoga, hikes and quiet time for this adult getaway.

Teahouse Studio presents workshops on painting, graphic design and writing at an artists’ studio in Berkeley.

Ace Camps, in Vancouver, B.C., offers creative retreats centered around art, photography, food and journaling.

What does this upsurge of interest in doing crafts or pursuing artistic expression with others mean?

I’d say these retreats are a blend of the trend I wrote about the other day–individuals creatively expressing themselves through the food items they make–and the specialized book clubs–the need to be with others who share your interests and want to talk about them and pursue them in a group setting.

What does this mean for writers? That people are very interested in creativity, crafts and being with others who also are passionate about the same activity.

A novel could be set at a crafting retreat; or you could connect your nonfiction book to the reader’s desire not to be isolated in his or her interest. Maybe you could even develop a retreat of your own…just a thought.

How do you respond to the trends we’ve explored this week? Did the discussion help you to direct your thinking about what you’ll write in 2012? Or about how you’ll find readers who would appreciate your work?

Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa, Calif.

I like to take the first few days of each year to get my grounding, to stabilize my feet under me, and to consider what the new year might hold. We’re all moving in a jet stream, propelled from behind by so many changes in society and in publishing that it’s hard to keep up with what’s new. But I think it’s instructive to consider what people are thinking about, how they’re reacting to life, and what that means to those of us who, ultimately, are either responders to society’s direction or movers of that direction. Either way, if we don’t know where our culture is going, we can neither write about it meaningfully nor influence its direction.

One thing I’ve noted is an uptick in the domestic arts. I’m not just talking people who like to cook, sew, knit, or build a bookshelf. I’m talking about people who are taking their activities to a new level. Sunset Magazine’s January 2012 issue had a section devoted to domestic artists. There I met:

Austin Durant, who is into fermenting–sauerkraut, pickles, even ketchup. He founded Fermenters Club in San Diego.

Emily Collins Kell, who makes cider because she had a backyard crammed with productive apple trees.

Emily Ho, who creates soda drinks because she found traditional sodas too sweet for her tastebuds’ liking. She carbonates drinks based on ingredients like elderflowers, oranges, rosemary, and cherries. She forages in farmers markets and on walks in her LA neighborhood to collect ingredients.

Jeff Pratuch, who cans tuna. A leisuretime tuna fisherman, he wanted albacore all year long and realized canning his catch was the way to stay stocked on the stuff. He says his homemade tuna bears little resemblance to the fare we eat from cans.

Cousins Brett Wittman and Jason Marwedel, who became sausage makers when they entered a sausage contest. Their family has been curing sausages for more than a century, but the guys knew they were onto something when, after three years of perfecting their skills, they beat not only their uncles but also their grandmother in the sausage contest.

Henry Chang, who roasts his own coffee. He started out trying to duplicate the espresso he tasted in Italy and eventually found the perfect roaster for him online–he had to learn to type in Chinese to communicate with the makers and eventually flew to Taiwan to pick up that precious baby.

What do all of these people, who from their photos look as though they’re in their 30s or 40s, have in common?

• They were inventive.
• They became obsessed with their hobbies.
• They saw a need (too many apples, sodas too sweet, couldn’t find a good espresso, etc.) and decided to meet it for themselves (and for friends). None of these individuals earns a living from what  he or she creates. Most don’t sell their wares. Their day jobs are: ob-gyn, banker, construction manager, wine merchant manager, publicist, food writer, software project manager.
• They created something uniquely their own.

What does this tell us about our culture as we enter 2012? Individuals like to personalize their experiences. In a world where we all shop in the same stores and wear the same brands, it’s refreshing to make something no one else makes just as you do.

They’ve developed a sense of exploration.

They enjoy self-expression.

They want to take what is at hand and create something new from it.

What does that translate to for writers? Readers want to “discover” you on their own. Rather than buying your book because everyone is reading it or because an ad told them to, they want to find your book–probably online. And they want to connect with you, not just with your writing.

And best of all would be if you could offer them a way to express what you’re writing about in their own way. If your novel’s character studies flowers’ genetics and develops new varieties, explain in an appendix how the reader could play around (in an obsessive kind of way) with doing the same. If your nonfiction book is about the importance of emotions, develop a website where readers can engage with each other on the topic.

A crafty lifestyle is an “in” lifestyle nowadays. How can you tap into that–and be true to yourself and your message?

Do you have any other insights as to why people are choosing to express themselves in such unique ways? Or how to apply that to your writing?

Location: Santa Rosa, Calif.

We didn’t raise our children to believe in Santa Claus. It wasn’t that we told them there wasn’t a Santa Claus; we just didn’t discuss him as a present-provider. We sort of punted on the subject, especially when we hung Christmas stockings.

My mother was shocked. “I can’t believe they won’t have Santa. Who will they think brings the presents?”

Me: “The people they can honestly thank.”

We attended Bishop Seabury Episcopal Church when my first children were toddlers, and I thought the church handled the Santa Claus issue beautifully. They celebrated the feast of St. Nicholas on the Sunday closest to December 6. Along with the pastor, one of the elders, clad in the traditional red and carrying a staff, walked down the aisle to start the service. He sat in one of the pulpit seats, and the pastor always preached a sermon about the historic man. That’s what the kids knew–St. Nicholas was a real man who brought gifts to poor children long ago.

We had many friends at the time who also didn’t bring their children up to believe in Santa Claus, and that resulted in one sweet Christmas story. As the days drew closer to December 25, a friend visited the commissary with her two little boys. The well-meaning clerk leaned over the counter to hand out candy canes and asked, “Who’s coming to your house soon?”

Josh grinned from ear to ear. “Daddy!”

The boys’ father came home the day before Christmas that year.

Santa used to ride on submarines as they came into port at Christmas time. Shouting, “ho, ho, ho,” he would hand out candy canes.

We explained to our children that some people believe Santa is real, therefore the kids needed to “play along” with the story-line and not dash anyone’s hopes. “It’s a pretend game.”

My children took the candy canes and politely thanked “Santa.”

Some of the best Christmases of their youth, however, were spent with my aforementioned mother, who struggled to honor our wishes but wanted to introduce her grandchildren to the “fun” of Santa Claus.

An old family friend, practically an aunt, made the rounds every year dressed in a Santa suit and toting an enormous bagful of treasures. During one of our visits, when the jingle of bells sounded outside my mom’s Southern California screen door, the boys ran to see what was up.

My mom got her wish: Her grandchildren had gifts to open from Santa. The boys pretended they didn’t recognize Santa. We all played with the toys and scarfed down the candy canes.

The boys hugged Santa and said, “thank you.” I did, too.

Some times you have to punt. Sort of.

Happy new year.

Location: Books & Such Midwest Office, IL

In my child’s view, the family Christmas Eve celebration never really began until Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle George arrived. They lit up the house with cheer and laughter. That was a special gift they shared. They made me feel as  if I were the only person in the room as I told them about achievements or failures in school or outside activities, and their praise and encouragement felt genuine and personal to my young heart.

Aunt Elizabeth was my dad’s elder sister. She and Uncle George made a handsome couple, each with a full crown of white hair. Their farm was on the edge of town, and we visited frequently. If she knew we were coming, two of her famous apple pies would be cooling on the windowsill by nine in the morning, one for them and one for us. One of my last memories of their farm was the time they invited my cousin, sister, and me to have a sleepover at their house. We caught lightning bugs in their front yard, which was surrounded on three sides by maturing corn fields, and we got up early the next morning to collect eggs in the chicken house.

After Uncle George and Aunt Elizabeth retired and sold the farm, it was rare to see one without the other. Since my aunt never learned to drive, my uncle chauffeured her wherever she needed to go. (Ladies, you can imagine the disruption that would cause our families today.) This meant that shopping—from groceries to Christmas presents—was a dual endeavor. Somehow, they managed to make their small, practical gifts special and personal for each recipient.

Years earlier, Uncle George had been mayor of our community and maintained an interest in politics throughout life. He lacked higher education but possessed an abundance of common sense. He continued to read the daily newspaper cover to cover and could converse on most topics of the day. I relished our stimulating discussions as an adult.

Spiritual things were hard to talk about, however. Culturally, they were entrenched in a mainline denomination and didn’t grasp the need for a personal relationship with Christ. I was down with a bad cold when Uncle George was on his death bed, but my dear husband, Brian, had an opportunity to share Christ with him in a way that captured his attention. And I had the blessing of helping to care for Aunt Elizabeth during her last weeks of life. She wouldn’t respond when I shared the truth with her, but she listened.

I so hope I see them in heaven. I want to thank them again for the Christmas—and life—blessings they poured into me.

Location: Home in Santa Rosa

A couple of months ago my Great Aunt Irene passed away. She was a twin and her twin sister, Eileen, passed away almost ten years ago. I remember seeing them every year at Christmas. They would come to our huge family gathering and sit next to each other on a couch and talk to whomever happened by. They were very caring and sweet, but were quiet and would hardly ever initiate conversation–at least not with us kids. I never could tell them apart because they were always together!

Neither of them married, and they always lived together. They took care of my great-grandmother until she passed away and of their eldest sister, Callista, until she passed away. They were also sisters of my Great Aunt Kathy, who was the nun I mentioned in my blog post a couple of weeks ago.

I learned a few years back, through looking at an old family album, that my great-grandfather had two brothers, and all three brothers had twin girls the same year. Can you believe it?! That must be rare. So Irene and Eileen had two sets of twin cousins who were the all the same age. That must have been so fun!

Irene and Eileen lived in an apartment in Palo Alto, Calif., until they moved to Los Banos, Calif., in their later years to live in a retirement community close to my grandpa and grandma. They moved to Los Banos about three years before I met Andrew, my husband.

Shortly after I started dating Andrew, I had dinner over at his aunt and uncle’s house. We were talking about my family, and I mentioned that my grandparents live in Los Banos. They looked at each other, and then Andrew’s uncle said, “Isn’t that where the twins moved?”

I immediately asked, “The twins? Do you happen to mean Irene and Eileen?”

They looked shocked and confirmed that we were talking about the same people. I explained my connection, and then Andrew’s uncle told me about how he lived for many years in the apartment above theirs in Palo Alto. He used to help them out from time to time. So my family was connected to Andrew’s since before we were born through my great aunts!

Here’s a picture of Irene and Eileen with Andrew’s uncle at his wedding.