Into the Fire

I decided to venture outside the CBA market for a little break just to see if it was possible to read a decent (as in not immorally saturated) crime novel from the talented and prolific bestselling novelist J. A. Jance. I picked up in the middle of her Joanna Brady Series with Skeleton Canyon because this particular back cover copy gave me just enough to entice me, and I never felt like I'd missed too much history by starting in the middle. And, lo and behold, it was not a God-less novel!

Much to my surprise I learned J.A. Jance spends divided time between the Seattle area and Tucson, Arizona, so could justifiably be called a "snow bird". This Sheriff Joanna Brady novel primarily takes place in Bisbee, Arizona.

With clear illustrations of the local terrain and weather patterns affecting the crime solving, Jance weaves an interesting and complex tale involving the beautiful but challenging daughter Brianna (Bree) of an older wealthy paraplegic man David O'Brien and his former nurse Katherine. O'Brien married Katherine after slowly recovering from a fatal accident which cost him his first wife and their two children. Brianna is keeping her first love a secret from her disapproving parents, finding her father impossible to please.

"Nacio" Ybarra faces similar prejudices from his family for wanting to be involved with the white girl, so they take secret periodic breaks and meet at a designated camping spot in Skeleton Canyon for their short weekend rendezvous. Nacio had received a full scholarship for his football skills until he shattered his leg in the local game with Brittany's high school. He had hoped to become a doctor. And they planned to go away to college and finally be together without having to hide. 

But the intersection of multiple crimes results in a murder and makes solving it a heavy weight on Sheriff Joanna Brady. Dealing with the arrogant and angry David O'Brien is a feat in itself when Brianna comes up missing and her parents discover she didn't go where she said she was going.

When Sheriff Brady's air conditioning on her personal vehicle requires a quick fix, she learns of a Freon smuggling situation so she calls a contact to share her information.

When her friend (Angie) with a checkered past takes Joanna's advice to accompany a bird expert (Dennis Hacker) to watch hummingbirds, that meeting ends in disaster in multiple ways.

All these seemingly unrelated events culminate one evening in a chase and crash during another desert storm. How everything ties together in the end is skillfully done, tragic, emotional, and almost hopeful by the end of the story.

J. A. Jance proved to be an entertaining storyteller who keeps on point but injests meaningful and defining revelations of her characters. There was even an element of faith in the background which gave the story a deeper level of purpose without the emptiness of secular writing.

If you need a fast summertime read that moves along quickly and allows you to feel the soaring heat and the pelting rain of the Arizona desert, I highly recommend J. A. Jance's Skeleton Canyon. I'm fairly sure her other novels will fill the bill as well.

Father, I pray your continued blessing and inspiration over J. A. Jance. You know her heart. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.    

Down the road at Novel Rocket today. Looking at the "if onlys". Will you visit?

Lord, I'm grateful for it all. Thank you. So much. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Every story starts somewhere and every reader knows there is an end. But some stories begin and end with little variety and not much interesting in between those first and last pages.

Some readers love details, others not so much. Writers vary in that process as well and create their novels according to two important considerations. Number one for me is I write what I want to read – let me re-phrase that. I write how I want to read. The stories are news to me until I start getting the character in my head into words. Second, which is first for many, is what does the market want and/or what is a publisher looking for at this time.

You could say romance is always hot, pun intended, but not everyone wants to read or write romances. So you could say me being a writer of love stories should offer an open door to publishing. Since I don't write for the general market, CBA hasn't been interested in what they would consider risqué  or "edgy". I don't consider my writing either, but since it takes romance to its sensuous roots, my work doesn't attract any interest from CBA publishers. You could say it's not good enough, and that's the real reason it's overlooked. So say it, if you like.

The beginning and the end and all things in between should entice. Within that framework it would be good to read something besides the typical conflict which usually resides in a total lack of communication between heroes and heroines. To the point where I want to scream at the book I'm reading and challenge the characters to at least pretend to be adults. The lack of honest admissions and hiding behind high school infatuations drive me cray-cray. You feel me?

Formulas serve a purpose, but conflicts can seem so trite sometimes. Piled on but built on sand. It just gets tiring when characters (aka authors) refuse to depict adult honesty where attraction is concerned. Say it, for heaven's sake!

Okay. I've said it. Formulaic stories with interesting beginnings but predictable ends can be found in astounding numbers in the romance genre. Because, after all, this is the nature of romances. So, just for the heck of it, can't we please – we being those writers of Christian fiction – just make them a little more REAL?

Done now. 

Father, you are real. Help me to always convey that in every story done for you. Every story. Real tells the truth. I love you, Lord. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Most children go through the usual variety of things they want to be when they grow up. Young people quickly eliminate childhood fantasies and begin to establish more pointed goals. Some stick with those designated dreams and work their way to fulfilling them. Or not.

We can know that we know that we know what we are born to do and eventually come into that realization. For Christians, we often refer to it in today's vernacular as "It's a God thing". For unbelievers they recognize their talents and desires and put themselves in position to achieve them.

However, it is one thing to fulfill what you were born to do, and it's yet another thing to experience what the world calls success doing it.

As an author of seven novels, three self-published, and three in progress, I can tell you I know I was born to do two specific "occupations". One of them was to work with horses, and the other was to write fiction. I can honestly say I have accomplished both of them, and the writing continues. Success? Certainly not from the world's eye view. Yes, in horse racing we won some races with horses we owned or bred, and somehow God allowed us to make a hard-fought living at it for many years. When He decided the end had come, we walked away. My husband began his second career, a dream he'd once had of driving big rigs. It's been a good career and now he's in the office side of the company where he's worked for 20 years. I wrote. And I still write. Monetary success? Not even.

But I continue because I know it's what I'm supposed to do. I was born to write. I've done it intermittently all my life. And, because I know it's what the Lord has given me to do, I cannot be afraid to fail, must keep going in spite of little success, and not set it aside just because it seems to accomplish so little. Nor can you. If you were born to do it, keep going even if your dream is reduced to a hobby or a spare time activity or an unpaid offering of your talent, do it anyway. Because personal and spiritual success does not depend on fame or fortune. It depends on obedience to what you were designed to do.

Father, let each one know what you have for them. Help them to persevere and remain faithful. Whatever kind of success you have for them, help them to realize it. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.   

Just when you think life can't get any worse after three miscarriages and losing your husband in a car accident, you get attacked and nearly choked to death by a faceless criminal but manage to survive the assault. Sort of. Lisa Newberry is a 29 year old widow who can barely force herself to get out of bed in the morning. Her mother basically tells her to "buck up" while her sympathetic best friend Sherry would do just about anything to help her. Depression sucks every remnant of life from Lisa, and her faith in God is set aside because she can no longer feel His presence in her emotional fragility.

When Lisa discovers a study and trial of a new brain implant known as the Empowerment Chip designed to relieve depression, Lisa signs up to be a test recipient and is rewarded with the opportunity to experience the tiny chip inserted into her brain. Hoping she'll get the real thing and not a placebo, she struggles to make the right decision but decides to go through with the surgery. Waking afterward, she knows she has received the real thing because for the first time in a long time she can sense feeling better.

However, coupled with her new ability to handle her sorrow come unwanted dreams and visions of a murder. So detailed and progressive in each new revelation of this crime, she starts seeing them while she's awake through the eyes of the killer. When her mother receives a telephone call with a threat against Lisa, she shows up at Lisa's door ready to come to the aid of her daughter. Her mom is the last person Lisa wants to see, but within a very short time her mother proves to be invaluable in more ways than Lisa could ever expect.

Double Blind by Brandilyn Collins captures the fragile and fearful nature of Lisa Newberry with her usual adroit style and intensity-laced, escalating psychological action and dialogue. With the innuendo in the title and strange twists and final turns, Double Blind is a quick and satisfying read with valuable posits of faith principles shoved between elements of fear, coping, and healing – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Another successful addition to Brandilyn's copyrighted Seatbelt Suspense.

Father, you have gifted Brandilyn in so many ways. She seeks after you with her whole heart and honors you in all she does. Please continue to bless her with your abundance. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

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The dangers of getting . . . Sidetracked

You have rejected us, O God, and burst forth upon us;

  you have been angry – now restore us!

You have shaken the land and torn it open;

  mend its fractures, for it is quaking.

You have shown your people desperate times;

  you have given us wine that makes us stagger.

But for those who fear you, you have raised a banner

  to be unfurled against the bow.

Save us and help us with your right hand,

  that those you love may be delivered.

Psalm 60:1-5 (NIV)

. . . someone says something right when you least expect it and from whom you'd never expect it . . .

                      No one said it would be easy to do. 

Father, we are desperate for you. Always. We need your direction, mercy, and grace. Help us, please. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

Most young girls dream about their first kiss. Fantasize the romance of it. The older they get dialogues are composed, scenes established, and clothes fashioned to accommodate the mood – all the romance created in the minds of little, young, and bigger girls.

I remember worrying about being "Sweet 16 and Never Been Kissed", and I cut it pretty close. The summer before my 16th birthday in September I "received" my first kiss. It's a memory I treasure as an event I anticipated and welcomed. Sweet, short, twice to be exact, in broad daylight on our front porch. And of course for me it was romantic. That young man eventually proposed to me and we were engaged. But . . . we didn't marry each other. The Air Force, the UW, and the racetrack came between us, but I later realized some things aren't meant to be.

Writing romance to capture the complexity of people who fall for each other takes more than a formula. Romance is no easy experience. Emotional intensity, conflicting feelings, pressures to impress, honesty, trepidation, indulgence – these are just a few of the areas for individuals to contemplate, experience, and overcome when attempting to start or sustain a relationship. The sexual component adds temptations, conflicts, and decisions. Not easy ones either.

Romances are not targeted for men. Romance is a word causing the majority of men to cringe because we women have constructed these impossible scenarios for our knights in shining armor. Few men picture themselves in armor, much less charging to the rescue of damsels in distress. Neither do they want to present a Fabio image from the cover of some supermarket paperback. While many men might not object in private to being a bodice-ripping he-man, it's certainly not the image most of them can comfortably perceive or portray.

And here's where the problems with romance always coagulate. Women design romance with their personal preferences in mind. Men perceive romance as leading to a satisfying passionate encounter. In between those two potentially very different perceptions are innumerable concoctions which usually create some separation instead of a united fusion.

Women love romance for the sake of the feeling it gives them. Men see romance as a means to an end.

Both are acceptable if understood. Generally speaking, women love to be loved. Cherished. Appreciated. Even respected. Men want respect. Admiration. Devotion. Loyalty. And sex.  

As a writer of love stories, I want my romances to touch souls, to cause memories, to resurrect real feelings of what love feels like, becomes, and where it goes. To present real people in real situations and bring all the emotions, physical and spiritual, to the surface, exposing the human flesh and the human heart, both light and dark. That's my basic design. 

Father, you put the romance in my soul. Thank you for that. Thank you for letting me transmit it to the page. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.  

I spent many years in Thoroughbred horse racing. There seem to be two opinions on the sport from those who've never been up close and personal within the industry. One opinion focuses on the inhumanity of making horses compete coupled with the dark stories of cruelty and injuries to the animals. The other opinion is that of whimsical admiration and the fairytale mystique of observing magnificent steeds race each other. I won't lie to you: both of these elemental observations have merit, and both can be exaggerated by those who don't have insider knowledge.

The best solution for the first of these is to address the problems by instituting reasonable investigations into abuses. Like any other business in this fallen world, politics enter into the problem-solving process. And like any other business those who live by corruption tend to stay one step ahead of those who pursue truth and punishment. In the horse racing industry "designer drugs" are those created to pass the required testing of equine racing athletes. As soon as one illegal drug is identified and detected, the pharmacological crooks are quick to manufacture another which can't be found in testing.

The objective of course is to produce a stronger, faster, able-to-ignore injuries race horse. This of course can perpetuate more injuries. The politics issue enters when the position of the trainer in the heirarchy of racing is the primary consideration for justice. If he's well-known and "respected" as a major player, the powers-that-be don't like bringing down a suspension or lengthy penalty. Attorneys get involved and all kinds of hypotheticals intermingle with reality and sometimes, like in any other courtroom, justice is not served.

Those inside racing who truly appreciate the equine athletes in their care do everything within their abilities to perpetuate the careers of those horses. Sometimes it's not enough. Like with any athlete, some careers come to a startling end. Heartbreaking tragedies do occur but breathtaking rewards also happen.

Addressing the serious problems in horse racing honestly and with integrity can do much to sustain these amazing athletes as increasing research into nutrition, medicine, and technology continues to make life potentially better for the race horse.

As to the opinion of whimsical admiration and the fairytale mystique of observing magnificent steeds race each other? I see no remedy for this. Nor do I see a need for one.

Father, please continue to convict hearts regarding any form of cruelty. Please continue to seek racetrackers. Please continue to bless those who do everything they can to do it right. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

I grew up in the city. Blocks and blocks of houses, small businesses, small apartment buildings, an occasional duplex, alleys, and a couple of busy streets a block to the west and east of our house. To the north about six blocks there was a good-size zoo and professional gardens. About six blocks south there was a high bridge over one of the many big lakes. I walked to grade school three blocks to the south and to seventh grade junior high which was a considerable distance.

We were the second house from the corner and had a basement and a single car garage. One set of stairs led up to our front lawn which meshed with our neighbor's on the corner, no fence between us. A second set of stairs led to the porch and front door after a short walkway between the two sections of front lawn. I remember jumping off the side of the front porch a few times for fun. It was probably five feet up from the ground, maybe six.

Next door to us on the east side was a brick duplex. When I was in grade school, an older couple lived there. "Bud" was the lady's name, and I'm sure it referred to a rosebud. I think she got cancer and endured a great deal of pain before she passed away because from my mom and dad's bedroom, we could hear her groan, and it made us sad.

As I've told you many times, I loved horses from the time I could talk so when I finally made it to the racetrack, it felt like I'd found myself. Regardless of the tumultuous times on the track, it was my little piece of "country" instead of city even though it – and every other track I'd seen – were located right in the city (with the exception of Santa Rosa).

When we moved to our current home, it had just enough country in spite of being close to small cities. Rural defined it.

Now our home is surrounded by development. Homes everywhere. Voices of unknown neighbors on tiny balconies of two-story houses clear as if they lived right next door. It looks as though you could reach out from a side window and touch your neighbor's house. Cars travel the road in front of us regularly and several times over the years have plowed into our fence. One evening a few years ago, we heard a terrible crash around midnight. Two young men hot-rodding around the turn in front of our acreage lost control, hit a truck heading down the slight hill, landed and died on our property, the top sheered off their Honda. And it all reminds me: I am not a city girl.

I don't want to hear what's happening at your house or for you to know what's happening at mine. I want the stillness of the countryside, the whooshing of our horse sneezing. The quiet except for an occasional vehicle passing on a country road.

Hopefully, we will find the country again. It's where I belong.

Father, you know. You are the answer. We wait. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.