10 Minute Writer

Confessions of A Busy Mom Who is Attempting To Become A Novelist, Ten Minutes At A Time

Dealing With The Whammy of Doubt (Now, Where’s the Chocolate?)

I have a double whammy today. Triple if you count that I kept the kids up to watch the Super Bowl.

I have a relationship in my life that I’ve recently realized is abusive. I found out recently that this person is insisting on working on a non-writing project with me. So there is a possibility that my next few weeks, including my birthday, will be stressful.

If I were reading this, I would say, “why don’t you tell them NO!” I’m afraid it’s not that simple, I’m not that strong, nor am I convinced that it is the best answer. Rest assured, I’d love to.

My second whammy, which might be a direct result of the first, is that even though I am writing like a mad woman on my novel, and I’m generally pleased with its progress, I’m second guessing everything. I’m stuck in an glue trap of doubt. I’m afraid, almost to the point of paralysis, that I am not any good.

Now that I have all of these thoughts down, I can see that they are intertwined. My possible Post Traumatic Stress Disorder life can’t handle both of these events simultaneously. I am a mess. What do I do?

A few minutes ago, in a frantic effort to find a solution, I tweeted to #writers “Where do you go when you are discouraged about your writing”. I got about four answers. I was surprised at how often chocolate was mentioned.

This is funny, and I certainly might try it. But I think I need a more permanent solution than the frozen Hershey bar that I stashed last Halloween. I need to know. TO KNOW — from the core of my being, from the inside out, that I am safe, that I am accepted, that no matter what I write, I am not defined by it. That I am loved. (Not a message that this abusive relationship has communicated to me.)

If the project was cancelled, I’m sure I’d feel better about my writing. If I stopped navel gazing long enough, I might even see that both of these things are out of my control. I might see that God, who loves me, protects me, sustains me, gives me ideas and works through me, will work both of these issues out.

But I’m so used to fretting, I’m so accustomed to disaster, my default setting is sobbing over rejection, it’s hard for me to grasp hope in both hands.

I believe that there is a God. I believe he made me. I believe that my past, my present and my future are held in his hand. I believe I will suffer, yet I will not be harmed. I believe He wants me to draw nearer to him in this and rest.

So I guess I’ve found my solution for the whammies. But I’ll keep chocolate around too.

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Sliding on Your Face Through The Ice (And Other Painful Events)

My kid went down the icy hill on his face. I didn’t see it. I was a few yards away pushing his little sister in the swing. I just heard him crying. He cries when his peas touch his carrots, so I wasn’t overly concerned. Until he came up the hill and I saw him.

The ice scratched his face up so badly, it looked like he got in a fight with an alley cat. Blood was slowly seeping out of the cuts. Bruises were starting to form. My four other children were playing happily, and we had just been in the playground about ten minutes, so I didn’t want to pack everyone up just yet. I wiped the blood off his face with someone’s ski hat and had him sit on a park bench, trying to comfort him and also trying to call my husband.

If there is ever an area when my own insecurity and ignorance comes through, it’s when my children are sick and injured. I need a Super Mom to descend on me and tell me exactly what to do in situations like this. I have to guess on my own. I’m never sure I’m making the right choices. If I were a parent of one, trips to the ER might be a lot more frequent. But because I have a crowd to deal with, I want to attempt to meet their needs too.

My husband wasn’t answering his phone. All this did was make me more panicky. My little boy’s injuries were really only scratches, but the bruises and blood (and his whimpers) made it appear to be much worse. It doesn’t help matters that my active imagination (and too many episodes of House) are magnifying these injuries, from which the logical conclusion is this: I’m not doing this right. My children are suffering. I am a bad mother.

I told my big kids I would allow them to stay fifteen more minutes and then we would go home. The wind was picking up and those of us who were standing around were getting very cold. I tried calling my husband two more times. Still nothing.

I needed my husband to tell me what to do. I needed him to see these injuries ( I tried taking pics with my phone, but Sad Boy wouldn’t cooperate and the lighting was terrible) and make a diagnosis. I wanted the responsibility of potentially causing more harm to my children to go on someone else’s shoulders. I needed to someone to see that I was an emotional mess and needed comfort too.

Within minutes, my other son fell off his sled and came up the hill crying. His nose and upper lip were scratched up and there was more blood. But not as bad as his little brother.

That settled it. We were done. I called everyone over and led them to our van. I couldn’t think of anything we needed more desperately than hot chocolate and motrin. ( I could go for a drink, but that will have to wait until after dinner.)

I am such a pansy. I got home, finally spoke to my husband, felt like an idiot for the fear and anxiety this little adventure caused me. Their injuries are just scratches and bruises, that is all.

But yet, that lie, the one that says I am bad. I fail. It’s my fault. That lie is still there.

Two weeks ago, my husband and I got into an argument. And while the episode was over soon enough, what lingered was the emotional bruising I gave myself. For days, I recounted the precise words that were said by both of us, (never regarding that my husband had forgiven me completely) and concluding, that the reason this issue was brought up to begin with was my fault. I am bad. I fail.

I don’t know what made me think this — perhaps it was divine mercy — but at some point on Wednesday (the argument we had was on a Friday) I realized that there was a simple solution: Step away from the lie.

My husband loves me. He and I have been married for 13 years. We have five children. If I were truly a failure, if I truly deserved rejection, if it were all my fault, wouldn’t he see it too? ( He is meticulous, analytical and picky. He has strong opinions and never settles for second best. So how is it he picked me to marry unless there was some value here?) Let’s even go beyond my husband, let’s look at someone who loves me deeper.

What does God say about me? I can get a clue about this from what he said about others. There was a woman caught in adultery,(John 8) who was guilty, who failed, who was clearly at fault and Jesus said to her: “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more.”

I am not used to seeing myself as uncondemned. I’m used to seeing myself as a mess. I’m used to having others point out my faults, then pulling out even more faults and then calling me names for good measure. I’m used to having arguments led to eerie, malicious silences that might last for days, broken only by a joke. I’m used to every mistake being broadcast to others. I’m used to shame. I’m used to pain. I’m used to despair.

It’s difficult to put down these lies, even though they’ve choked me for years. In my Bible reading, I’ve found that not only does it please God when I attempt to do so, he gives me strength to do this. He knows how weak I am.

My little boys’ injuries are going to heal just fine. We’re trying to figure out a funny remark when they’re seen at church. ( “You should have seen the other guy!” “It was a Siberian tiger in our backyard! It’s okay — I took it out.”) They’re going to grow up stronger and more resilient for it. And if they ever play organized sports, they’ll probably have far worse (of course their mother will need sedatives).

And I’ll grow up too. I have an amazing healing grace that pours over me. It heals, restores and gives me strength to believe the truth. I am not bad for I have God’s righteousness. I do fail, but I have power in me to succeed. And whatever fault I have, God forgives me.

And that’s even more comforting that Motrin, hot chocolate and a good stiff drink.

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Who Wants To Be A 10 Minute Reader? (Announcing My Facebook Fan Page!)

I didn’t think I was ready for this. But, maybe it’s better than I just jumped in without thinking too hard about it.

Here it is . . . .
My Facebook Fan Page

They say it’s never to early to start marketing. They also say not to stick your tongue on a metal pole in winter, it’s the thought that counts and money can’t buy happiness. They sure do know a lot.

Sigh.

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Hiccups Saved The Day! But What About Tomorrow?

Someday, I hope, I’ll be a famous novelist.

I’ll see my name in print. I’ll have links on Amazon.com. I’ll have a fan page on Facebook. I’ll be cleverly reclusive, leaving my readers wanting a little bit more.

I might grace them with a personal appearance at a bookstore, signing autographs in copies of my book. (I’ve already decided what I’m going to write in them. There’s a secret message for you on page 72. Love, Katharine

And if that bloated, self absorbed image isn’t enough, here’s more. Inevitably, someone will say to me. “Where do you get your ideas?” And I’m going to look them straight in the eye and say, “Kmart.”

As ridiculous as that sounds, the truth is even more so. The truth is, I don’t know. (Not that anyone’s asking that question of me who is not 11 years old and lives in my house.)

I had just an idea this last week. The idea was hiccups! My poor protagonist was having a hard day trying to please a lot of different people. She was scurrying around her job, doing her regular Tuesday morning duties and allowing for various plot points and character developments to seep through. But there was a problem. There was no unifying conflict, no tying thread, no glue to hold the scene together.

After stewing on this for a day or two, the answer came to me: she has the hiccups!

After that EVERYTHING clicked. I sped through the scene, laughed at myself in several places and completed it in record time.

I don’t know where I got the idea. I was not suffering from them. No one in my family was. It just came like a lightening bolt into my little brain.

I’m not telling anyone this to brag about my brilliance — but, I guess to eliminate this question from our future book signings. To ask where do you get your ideas is to suggest there is a retail store or a website or a physical place that we can order them (now with free shipping!)

I don’t think inspiration is like that. I think that it comes through concentration, practice, observation, analysis, patience, and luck. No one ( I am assuming this from my vast book signing experience) really wants to hear the answer quite like that, they want an easy answer, albeit an equally ridiculous one. If those short cuts to inspiration were true places, then no one would be original. And that would be tragic.

The hiccups idea was perfect for Chapter 18. But this week, I’m on Chapter 19. Oops. Can’t revisit the whole hiccup idea. I have a different POV character, different conflicts, different setting, different mood. The only thing that’s really the same here is the author.

Well that’s not entirely true. I’m different too. Unlike the brief moment of despair last week when Chapter 18 had not yet gelled, this week I’m going to trust that lightning is going to strike again. Oh, how I wish I did have Kmart to deliver my good idea because I looked for it today on websites that contained country music lyrics, armed forces terminology, definitions of famous Indian recipes and Facebook. And yet, nuthin’.

That’s okay. Something will happen. I have faith in my creative process. I’m learning to trust mine. You can trust yours too.

(And I’ve changed my secret message. Now it’s on page 147!)

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My Hiatus — Or How I Spent My Christmas Vacation

My last entry was about waiting on God’s Big Plan for my family — a plan which we truly thought was going in one specific direction. It did not. It still might. But at this writing, there is no definite plan to do anything but to wait and maintain what we have.
Since my last entry, several months ago, my emotional life has had the journey of a lifetime. First, the anticipation of a move and a new adventure had me in a plane of unsurpassed excitement. Subsequently, the realization that our plans were not to be threw me into a place of utter despair. I had a really bad November. I cried for three days straight and maintained my home and my family life in the most shabby way possible.
Thanksgiving, however, was spent with relatives in Oklahoma. I was still numb from the disappointment — but somehow there, away from my troubles, God revealed to me a side of his perfect plan. While I was there, my eyes were opened to see, with unprecedented clarity, the depth of God’s love for me. I returned to Boston a new person. So new, in fact, that the desires of the fall, the obsession to move houses and cities was completely gone. My former discontent (and I have a lot to be discontented about) had somehow vanished. Instead, I was filled with a joy and a peace that I had never encountered.
Which was a perfect way to enter the Advent Season.
Our Christmas was very busy, and at times stressful, but I can’t remember a time when I enjoyed it more. It is worth noting that I had spent most of my 2009 begging God to improve our situations by Christmas — thinking that one more holiday season in our circumstances would be far too much to bear. Yet, we endured one more. This Christmas was vastly different. It was full of joy and peace, not disappointment and heartache.
I faced the New Year with a temptation to lay down my agenda before the throne of God once more and say, “Do these things in 2010, please.” As if he had forgotten or neglected to accomplish them in 2009. In hindsight, 2009 was filled of wonderful, unexpected, abundant blessings. Few of which graced that year’s agenda. So, perhaps the 2010 list should be discarded.
Instead, I face my many ideas with a new perspective. I have many ideas — I am impulsive and easily distracted excited. But perhaps I need to see the ideas that fill my agenda as cheap, silly things, not even worth my attention until the King beckons them and breathes life into them.
Which brings me to the problem of this blog. What do I do?
I am skittish about “building a platform”. I am convinced that Twitter, as helpful as it can be, is a time-sucking force, of which I have little self-control. My true passions lie in finishing my novel and I can see how too much time blogging can take away precious time from my novel. (Now in progress for three years.)
Clearly, the best thing about this blog, is the relationships that are built from it. That alone should propel me into it. But I confess, I am a swirling mess of confusion, disappointment, distraction, guilt and fear. I’ve seen what happens when plans don’t work out — and it’s painful. Yet, I’ve also felt the overwhelming healing and peace that comes from a Father who is in control of all things. Even my failures.
So, I think, after spending a half hour or more of collecting my thoughts in the best way I know how, is to continue with this blog. Slowly. My husband says I should take my own advice and lower my expectations. Ten minutes a day, perhaps? Only once or twice a week instead of five? Write as a cathartic exercise, expecting release, not as yet another way to influence the masses and make money.
I’m not making any promises. I’m going to take this one day at a time. I’m even going to wrap up this entry, because I am still a busy mother of five. I still have bread to bake and football games to watch and Wii Golf scores to increase with my boys.
So, dear readers. I think I’m back.
Trusting God Ten Minutes At A Time.

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The Most Suspenseful Summer (And Now Fall) Ever!

Oh man, I wish I could spill the beans here, but I can’t.

We’re still waiting on my very smart and talented husband to have a meeting with a prominent capitalist. This man is a believer, so I started praying that he would have dreams about my husband. I think, sometimes, God uses dreams to symbolically tell us his will. So, I was praying two weeks ago that Mr. Capitalist had a dream that a bald man (my husband) would enter his office, bringing him something valuable, like, for instance, gold.

Yesterday, my husband was wrapping a gift. It was a book about innovative corporate life and he wants to give it to Mr. Capitalist at their meeting (which we hope is next week!). The only wrapping paper in the house is from Christmas — and it’s gold!

You think that’s weird . . . on the morning of September 8, I woke to the sound of worship music. My husband is an early riser and usually gets up the rest of the house with music. The song that was playing was by Hillsong “He is mighty to save, he is mighty to save . . “. I slowly woke up and grabbed my Bible. I didn’t know what to read, but I breathed a quick prayer, “God, give me a fresh word!” In the back of the Bible is a list of certain topics, I picked “encouragement” and turned to the page number (not the reference, mind you.) The page indicated was devotion about hope and about trusting in God. Hey, this is good so far. Next to the devotional, it had a list of scriptures to look up. The first: Zephaniah 3. So I turned there and as the music was playing, I read these words:

17 The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing.”

I read it exactly at the time the song was playing those very words!

It gets better. Yesterday, I was on Facebook and my status said, “I need an encouraging word, anybody got one?” I had a couple of smart alecky comments, but then my friend Kate in Virginia (who knows nothing about my circumstances) said this:

Zephaniah 3:17 The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing.”

We’re still not at the end of this big transition in my household.
But I think we’ll see more of these interesting “coincidences” before it’s all over.

I can’t wait!

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A Temporary Withdrawal

My dearest readers, (Russian Spammers, I am not addressing you)

Back in the creation of this blog, my purpose was to list practical ways busy writers could squeeze in time to pursue their dreams. At the time, I had decided to write a novel in the midst of household and family demands, so this thought was a frequent one. Also, at the time, I found so little satisfaction in other areas in my life, I had the novel to be my comfort and my therapy while I waited on other aspects of my life to improve.

At the beginning of the summer, I decided to take some time to prayerfully focus on the biggest needs of my life, ones that I’ve only briefly mentioned here. This prayer time, which went from only a few days to a few months, required me to lay aside my online time. I didn’t write much, I didn’t blog much, and I went for almost four weeks total without Facebook. (You have no idea the sacrifice that was!)

In that time, some very amazing things happened. I wish I could share them in this forum, because I would like to see everyone embrace a prayer life, but much of this was so sweet and so intimate between me and The Lover Of My Soul, that I think to reveal it all would cheapen it. Forgive me if I pique your curiosity. (If you want to know what it is like to be intimately loved by God, ask him yourself.)

By the end of the summer, not only did I have a clear direction for my family’s future (of which my husband came to the same conclusion separately), but I have a new vision of my purpose as a writer and as an encourager. I’m not so sure that this blog and my novel are part of my immediate future. Other issues, long dormant ones, ones that I’ve been waiting on for years, are going to be addressed. I believe that God is bringing me to a place where my heartache will be completely healed. And writing, at least for a little while, might not be the therapeutic outlet it once was.

At first I balked at this suggestion, “What? Give up my novel?” But then God, as tenderly as always, said, “There is a fresh new healing. Give your time to that. The novel will have its place later.”

I am hoping in the next few weeks, I am able to put aside this vagueness and tell you specifically what I mean, but we’re waiting on a financial and professional breakthrough — one that might even put my husband in a high profile position. I can’t jeopardize this by blabbering on a public blog.

This is all very good news. But there is the bittersweet. If I step away from this blog, then I potentially lose some great friends. My new relationships have been a joyous surprise. Their friendship transcends a blog — and almost even transcends Facebook — and I firmly believe that they will stick with me no matter what I write or do, online or off.

Perhaps, I will blog again — with a focus less on writing, but more on growing in confidence in all areas, maybe a little hospitality and domestic commentary, maybe a few photos, think Pioneer Woman set in a scenic coastal historical New England town?

In the meantime, I’m still going to Twitter and Facebook, so if you haven’t friended or followed me, please do!

I don’t mean to disappoint or sadden anyone. This is a God-directed new thing. God’s new paths are great adventures and they always surpass every expectation.

All my love,

Katharine Grubb, the former 10 Minute Writer

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5 Quick Takes (Yes, I Know It Isn’t Friday)

1. Why I am blogging today I think I need to check in. I am not writing for a while, nor am I thinking about writing, so any advice or encouragement about writing just isn’t there. However, I do understand that my handful of readers just might be curious about my marginally interesting life. In the most general sense, I will say this: my husband and I are still praying and fasting about our future. Some things are very clear, yet somethings remain to be seen. Please continue to pray for us that this matter is resolved quickly.

2. Today is my wedding anniversary! My husband and I celebrate 13 years of marital bliss today! My prayer for the next 13 is that we are full of joy and blessing. Tonight Marc and I are going out to dinner and a movie. YAY US!

3. A Little Word About Convictions Yesterday, I was given a well-intentioned, but impractical suggestion to a problem that I have. Maybe it’s just me, maybe I don’t take advice well. But I realized that the most painful advice I receive is when someone asks me to question my convictions. Without sounding like a whiner, I do have an unusual amount of restrictions on my life. I make decisions on what is best for me, my husband and my children and I stick to them. Even though I realize that they may cause discomfort in another area, it is my choice. I will stick with my decisions, not because I am stubborn, not because I am proud, but because I can’t afford to chase after the wind with every idea that pops out of so-and-so’s mouth. My trust is in the one who gave me this direction. I will trust only in him to meet all my needs, even though it seems as though I have been forgotten. So if you have some great advice for me (like having Extreme Home Makeover fix my housing issue, or demanding that my husband make more money, or driving 90 minutes to entirely different town just drink coffee with a stranger, or put my kids in school –ballet, soccer, violin, karate, scouts, etc just because it will give us more friends) please don’t take it personally if I don’t jump up and down at the suggestion.

4. Student Of The Day This has been, by far, my most brilliant homeschool idea EVAH! On the first day of our homeschool, three weeks ago, I announced that every day one child would be honored for their good attitude, helpfulness and general willingness to bless Mommy. That child would be declared Student Of The Day and their picture would be hung on our dry erase board for the remainder of the day. Nothing I have done has ever motivated my children more. The first day, Veronica, who you must understand is a 3 year old girl, so her likelihood of receiving this is pretty slim actually WON! Then the second day, 5 year old Perrin (who couldn’t STAND losing to his little sister, won). The next day, Veronica kept herself busy all morning creating her own sign and picture and then declared herself the student of the day. And today, I had five such magnificently well-behaved children, I could not pick the best one! ( I don’t want to start the precedent of “ties”.) This makes my homeschool morning such a wonderful experience. I have great kids and I am immensely proud of them.

5. To the question, “How was your summer?” My answer is: “Quiet. I’ve been praying a lot.” And I’ve experienced some amazing things. I hope I can write about all of them very soon. I think it’s just as thrilling as a trip to Disneyland.

I don’t have anything else to say. Perhaps this season of solitude is making me a little less vocal about life. Maybe I missed my calling. Maybe I should have taken a vow of silence and lived tucked away in a cloister.

But something tells me they wouldn’t Facebook.

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Getting Out The Anger (Or What My Readers Go Through Because I’m Off Facebook For A While)

I am going to blog about what happened to me at the playground today for three reasons. First, my poor husband will be grateful that you, my patient readers, will soften the blow when I recount the story to him. Secondly, I have removed myself from the distractions that are Facebook and Twitter, and if I vent here, then I can have the satisfaction of a worthy audience. And thirdly, which is probably the most important, writing will make me calm down.

I took my five children to a local playground today. It was not our regular haunt, but it is a very nice one, with a fenced in area around the climbing apparatus. I like my kids to be fenced in. They can pretty much do as they please, within the boundaries of the play area.

After playing for about 20 minutes, my five kids were having a nice time playing a rousing game of tag. Tag is much more fun when you have stuff to climb and run around. My friend, Lauren, and her 3 kids joined us and her three joined in the tag game. I was chatting with Lauren and I didn’t see what was happening in the play area.

When I looked up, I saw an older, white haired woman scolding my older two girls. ( Who are 10 & 11). My thought on strangers talking to my children is this: I don’t mind you being friendly, but if you are correcting them, you better have a valid reason. The girls had confused looks on their faces. I asked the woman exactly what it was that they did that was wrong.

She told me. They were running.

I really was baffled. This is a public playground.

Her argument was that there were a lot of little kids in this playground and the big kids needed to play, NOT RUN, so that they would not be in any danger.

I asked her, what little kids? The majority of them in this playground were mine.

She said, ALL OF THEM.

Huh?

Then she pointed out my son and said that he almost ran into a pole because he was running. This isn’t safe, she said, and if he wanted to run he should stay in his own backyard.

Keep in mind no one was hurt.

I asked her again, which specific children she was the most concerned about, thinking that she would probably point out another one of my kids, who had already had half a dozen boo-boos and were none the worse for wear. And again, she said, “ALL OF THEM”.

This made no sense to me. She would not identify with any specific child. She would not clarify what specific offense my children were committing, she just wanted the running and playing and having fun to stop now. Because someone would get hurt.

I don’t remember what I said then. I think it was somewhere on the lines of the fact that “THIS IS A PUBLIC SPACE! WE CAME HERE TO RUN! YOUR REQUESTS ARE COMPLETELY UNREASONABLE!”

She did not see it this way. She said something like public spaces should be safe (which, by the way, no one at this point is hurt or injured) and we should go outside of the fenced in area if we wanted to run so the little kids would be safer.

At this point, my blood pressure was through the roof. I yelled at all my kids and said, “We are going to the little kid playground (across the park) where we will be allowed to run and play and have fun.” Of course, one of my kids started crying. I said (which probably wasn’t the nicest thing in the world to say) “Look what you did! You made my kids upset. Thanks a lot.”

Then I took my brood and went to another part of the park. I was furious to see that this crazy lady had moved her grandchild to the swings and wasn’t even in the part we left. My friend Lauren approached her and asked her how old her granddaughter was. She said, “3 1/2″

Lauren pointed out that the apparatus we were originally playing on was designed for kids ages 5-12. The sign said so. Her kid shouldn’t have been there in the first place. The crazy lady did say, to her credit, “Point well taken.”

Now I could have gone back to the original play space. But truthfully, I was very afraid of what I would have said, in front of my children, to this micromanaging busybody. I would probably not have made my point clear, I probably would have just resorted to name-calling. (Hateful ol’ bitty.)

So I enjoyed the afternoon with my kids, who wound up having a nice time anyway. I feel sorry for that 3 1/2 year old. If her grandmother does this to everyone, she’s going to have neither friends nor fun.

Then I drove home, thinking about all of the things I wish I would have said.

Then I got mad because my husband (who was working at home today) didn’t meet me at the door to hear me recount the tale of this terrible injustice.

Then I decided that writing it all out would do me wonders.

I hope you found it entertaining.

Whew! I feel a lot better.

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New Writer Interview: Mary Lenaburg!

It has been my very great pleasure to make a new friend, Mary Lenaburg. She’s working on two books and has faced hardship that has only strengthened her faith. I am delighted that she agreed to answer a few questions. Please welcome, Mary Lenaburg!

1. What made you decide to write?

I can’t remember ever “deciding” to write. I have been writing all my life. When I was younger I had trouble reading and writing. In college I was diagnosed with mild dyslexia, although by that time I had learned to compensate on my own for my reading and writing challenges. I even wrote for the school newspapers in high school and college and loved it. Then I married and stayed home with my children and began to journal about parenthood. I took off on the adventure of homeschooling my son, and learned right along with him all the grammar I never really understood in school. I love writing about life and lessons learned. I love encouraging others. I write about my disabled daughter all the time. I write about everything she has taught me and how my life has been blessed because of her. I have been blogging for two years and this has opened up a whole new writing world to me. Now I am not only writing for my personal blog Passionate Perseverance but also for a new Catholic woman’s ministry called Phases of Womanhood.

2. This is your chance to pitch! Can you tell us about your novel?

I am writing an Inspirational Romance. It’s “incomplete” at the moment. That’s all I can really say because I have set it aside to write the memoir.

3. What benefit is it to attend conferences?

I have been apart of RWA (Romance Writer’s for America) and ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writer’s) for three years now and have learned so much about the art of writing as well as the publishing industry. I just joined the Catholic Writer’s Guild after attending their conference this past summer. The lectures given at each of these conferences on craft and structure are invaluable to me. I am a natural storyteller but not the best writer. I have trouble with grammar and punctuation. It’s where my dyslexia shows up. I also have trouble with conflict, so the conferences help me figure out how to make my story better. It also gives me an opportunity to meet other writer’s. Woman who share many of my same struggles. There is community and camaraderie.

4. Who has been your biggest influence? And, if I were to compare you favorably to another author, who would you like that to be?

I would have to say Nora Roberts and Debbie Macomber have been my biggest influences. I have read them both for years. Nora is all about her characters. You care about them, you cheer them on. I don’t know anyone who does it better. Debbie is an inspiration to me because of her storytelling. She too had learning disabilities growing up and she persevered. She is a master at setting and internal conflict. She creates a place you want to go visit again and again. Both of these woman have created long running series that keep their audiences coming back again and again.

As for comparing me to another author…I would love to tell a story as well as Lisa Wingate. She makes you laugh and cry, sometimes in the same page. The way she weaves a story together is tremendous. The balance between romance, woman’s fiction and inspiration is wonderful. “Tending Roses” is one of my all-time favorite books. She is the type of author I aspire to be.

5. How do you see God using you in your writing? (And, please, don’t be overly humble. God is certainly using your writing!)

God is very present in everything I write. My blog is all about living the best Catholic Christian life I can. My memoir is about my daughter and how God has created miracle after miracle in our family’s life. I learn more about my God everyday and I am so blessed by His mercy and unfailing love.

6. Please tell us about your memoir, your daughter, and what prompted you to write about it.

Unable to speak, see, or walk my profoundly disabled 17-year-old daughter Courtney has taught more people about God’s love and mercy than I, an able bodied person could ever hope. Courtney has beaten all the medical odds and continues to amaze us with her tenacity and strength of will to live. Love Conquers All is a memoir of how Courtney has transformed not only my heart, but also the hearts of our family and our entire community. This memoir traces our steps as we learn that she is not a broken being, she is perfect in God’s eyes, and she has a job to do that is an important as any of ours.
In 2000 we took Courtney to Lourdes, France on a healing pilgrimage. This book tells that story and what has transpired since then. I was tired of everyone telling me I should write a book. I decided that it was time to write everything down. We shall see what God wants to do with it. The manuscript has been requested by three Catholic presses. I will be sending it out in the early fall. At that point, if God wants it sold, than He will make it happen.

7. What does your daily writing time look like?

Mostly chaos and anarchy. I have realized I must start a “regular” daily writing schedule. When I finally sat down to write my goals I knew it was way past time to stop “winging it” and I finally set a writing time. I take my daughter to school and then I write for the next three to four hours on my memoir. If I have any time left before I pick her up, I will work on blog posts and other projects. Then it’s all about my daughter. Once my husband is home, dinner is done and Courtney is in bed for the night, I may go back to it. Usually though I use that time to read. The more I get into writing the less TV I watch.

8. If you could go back and talk to yourself as a new writer, say, five years ago, what would you tell yourself?
“You can do this. I doesn’t matter is you can’t spell or your grammar is horrible. That’s why God created editors and critique groups. Get your bum in the chair and finish the book!”

9. Do you have an agent? How did you obtain one?
I don’t currently have an agent. I have decided that it may time to begin queries though. This is something I am currently doing research on.

10. And could you give us a 100 word biography? Including your website, blog, etc?

I am a faithful Catholic Christian writer, a loving wife to Jerry and a proud mother of Courtney and Jonathan. I write about the things I am most passionate about: faith, family, food, fiction and fashion. I strive to live more like Mary, our Blessed Mother and less like Martha. Maybe one day I will succeed! You can find me blogging at Passionate Perseverance (www.passionateperseverance.blogspot.com) and Phases of Womanhood (www.phasesofwomanhood.org).

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