Think of a few of your favorite novel characters. You remember them, don't you? You may be a little fuzzy on the story now that much time has passed, but you haven't forgotten those characters, have you?
Next: name three "things" your favorite characters must be/have/possess. Go!
Father, we're made in your image, fallen though we are. Thank you for making a way to be redeemed. We're desperate for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
When you write, are you predictable? Do similar themes or situations expose themselves on the pages of your words over and over again? Do you ever find yourself getting bored with your stories? Is it time to venture into unpredictability? Is it necessary?
What is unpredictable when applied to creating fiction? What does that mean to you as a reader and a writer?
Do you consider unpredictability a positive characteristic or a harmful escape?
These are my thoughts for Wednesday . . .
God, your character is absolute and predictable. How you exercise your character is imaginative and often unpredictable. Thank you for being huge. Beyond my finite mind. I’ve always needed that. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Most of you know I lost my only brother, my older brother, rather suddenly and unexpectedly just over a week ago. His memorial was Friday (the 22nd of July), and it was a terrific event in a tiny town by the sea he loved.
My dad left a huge legacy of people who loved and respected him. That somewhat short man born in Butte, Montana to Italian immigrant parents left some big shoes to fill for his taller son. When my brother eventually entered into the same business as Dad, he demonstrated he inherited the retail gene. However, my brother ended up with some alcohol difficulties that plagued him for several years.
When my brother quit drinking, he dedicated a substantial portion of his sober life to helping others who’d gone down that same road. The fullness of this particular area of his life was unknown to our family until his memorial. There I learned of the love and immense respect my brother had acquired through his generosity in sharing his life, his struggles, his time and energy with others who’d suffered some of the same and worse problems with the drug of alcohol. The small chapel was filled with people who came to pay their respects to and give their testimonies about my brother Dick who they all knew as Richard. He was a friend, a mentor, a rescuer, an encourager, and a person you called when you were desperate. He was a wonderful man.
The service was filled with tears, some laughter, lots of fellowship afterward, and plenty of interesting conversations about a man held in high esteem. He was his father’s son in that he, too, became a great man. As I recorded in my tribute to him, I reiterate now: it is an honor to be his sister.
And, as only God can do, He demonstrated how He can make beauty from ashes and how He can work all things together for good for those who love Him, for those who are the called according to His purpose.
I love you, Dick.
Thank you, Lord, for rescuing my brother and me. For loving us. For being patient with us. For saving our souls. Please hug my family for me, Jesus. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Some people are masters of artfully presenting their wares—or maybe I should say few people have mastered the mess of self-promotion. I know I haven’t.
I can easily discuss my novels. No problem. I love to talk about Joey Parr from The Famous One or Michael Jamison and Shaylen Price from the upcoming Breath of Life. And any of the other multitude of characters from the seven finished novels or the three in process. That’s just plain fun.
But advertising them? How? What do you like to see to promote a new novel? What piques your interest? What do you think should be done to get you to read a new novel? What do you hate? What bothers you?
Any of you game enough to answer these questions? I’d love to hear what you have to say. And thank you for whatever you have to offer.
Father, I need help here. Always. You know that. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
"Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
Revelation 21:3-4 (NIV)
If I asked what you liked least about writing a novel, what would you say?
Lord, thank you for the perseverance it takes to write. Thank you for the privilege of writing with you in mind. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Some women . . .
I’ve learned some of us like the feeling of being threatened. That you could disappear at any moment. At will. But at the same time, we revel in that look you give us that says no one—ever—has meant this much to you. That if your heart could belong to anyone, it would belong to us.
Keeps us from getting lazy, I think. Knowing you could say goodbye—hard as it would be to do. But you could do it. Makes us aware of our pettiness. And kinda locks us into a certain neediness that declares our femininity. Something we can fight but never defeat.
Father, you know the flaws in all of your people. Yet you love us. Each one. Thank you for that. You wait to rescue us from ourselves. We're all so needy. Desperate for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Writing is not the most important expression of life. It holds a valued position in defining the hearts of writers in unique ways, but it’s only another vessel in which communication can be executed or elicited from those who must put words in motion.
Grief shows up when you least expect it and has no regard for subtlety, though it hides sometimes in the mundane exercises of the everyday.
“Alone” takes on fresh meaning when the family you grew up with is no longer present.
People need to know they’re loved and that they matter.
Thank you, Lord, for the privileges you’ve given me. They’re too numerous to count or name. My family exceeded all I could’ve hoped for . . . I’m so grateful. Please continue to bless our lives, Lord, as we strive to live them for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
What every big brother should be: he was. Nine years older than this little girl, he was someone to observe and admire.
Oh yes: he was a terrible tease. All the way through his life, he teased the women in his life mercilessly. I remember being at the point as a child, standing in our driveway of the house on Motor Place, shouting with tears “I hate you!” Recalling those moments as an adult, I felt horrendous guilt for those words because of how deeply I loved my brother.
Dick was the strong silent type who kept his struggles wrapped up in internal packages, rarely expressing the specifics to me but somehow letting me know when things were not so great or improving. So much I never knew.
Other than his health in recent years and his desire for more sun, he seemed content.
Because of the age gap between us, we spent most of our lives in different locations and stations in life, but whenever I needed my brother, he was there for me. He was “the protector” without ever having to say so.
The tender side of my brother was most evidenced when Mom died and his tribute to her was a lovely poem he’d written. Such a touching expression from this man of few words.
We all railed at him for his undying devotion to the Oakland Raiders, but we still indulged him with their paraphernalia at Christmastime.
Like all of us he had flaws and suffered the consequences of his actions. But he loved many, cared deeply, and maintained a good sense of humor always looking for the next good tease. And he was loved back.
I don’t know when it was exactly that he decided he needed to firm things up with Jesus, but I’m comforted that he did. He learned the value of prayer, and I know that so many people offered prayers up to the Father for Dick’s healing. Well . . . God answered and Dick’s now whole. No more trying to quit smoking, no more hard-fought efforts to take a mere breath, no more wrestling with sin, no more lack of sunshine, and no more trouble here on earth. I’m sure he got hugs from not only His Savior but from our mom and dad. As much as I’ll miss him, there’s no better place to be than heaven.
Thank you to each one of you who enriched my brother’s life. He treasured many of us just as we cherished him. And although he’s better off, we remain with the hurt of losing him and the precious memories of one Richard James Petrino.
I am so thankful and blessed to have been his little sister. It was an honor.
The CFBA Tour features Reno, Nevada, firefighter and paramedic Shawn Grady’s third novel Falls Like Lightning published by Bethany House.
Silas Kent jumps into fires from airplanes. He’s good at it and a respected member of a team. Elle Westmore flies the planes from which smoke jumpers exit. She’s good at it. Respected as one of the best, particularly over a particular forest area where her father was lost in flight and never found, she is asked to fly this particular route before the fire that’s searing all around it gets away from the firefighters and destroys the residences that border the area.
Silas doesn’t expect to head up another team, one he’s never worked with, and he certainly doesn’t expect to have Elle as the pilot, but dire circumstances put them all together. Elle and Silas have a history that didn’t end well. Elle married someone on the rebound, is now a single mom, and has a 5 year old daughter who suffers from seizures.
Unknown to Silas and Elle there is another reason this particular team wants to go on this jump, and it isn’t to contain a fire. Only one member of this unfamiliar team seems to know what’s really going on, and he finds a way to make sure Silas learns of their intentions.
The technical aspects of smoke jumping are woven into this story without a hitch. The reader can almost smell the smoke and feel the flames as the pages turn. The emotional turmoil of Silas and Elle facing off again add to the intensity of what’s required of them on this fateful trip. Faith issues spring up organically from the characters’ hopes and fears.
If there’s a weakness in this story, it isn’t in Shawn’s writing. He’s a good writer. I would say the bad guys are a little too stereotypical which isn’t uncommon but I’m sure Shawn will remedy this in future novels.
Danger, tragedy, and sacrifice lead to a stunning conclusion to this quick read by Shawn Grady. Falls Like Lightning is a descriptive and suggestive title to an exciting and mildly romantic novel.
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/ 0764205978
Father, thank you for the calls you’ve put on Shawn’s life. Thank you for his efforts to save lives and enlighten readers with novels that honor you. Please continue to give him stories to share and keep him safe from all harm. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
