Rhythms of Grace

Ta Ta You Jesus

'Write as often as possible, not with the idea at once of getting into print, but as if you were learning an instrument.' --J B Priestley

We've talked a lot the past few weeks about the metaphor of writing as music: short exercises as the notes, short stories as the scales and songs, a novel as a collection of the former. It's tempting, I think to dive in with "your novel" and set a time line for all being published. Though it's possible, it doesn't allow time for the development of voice, that intangible thing that makes one writer sound different from another.

Like the best singers love to sing, a writer must fall in love with words. Not words in print or even written down, but the childish rhythm of words that keeps time in our dreams. Just as we must come to faith as little children, we must set aside time to approach our writing in this way too. Sometimes the big idea is nothing more than a daydream in fancy clothes. Take some time today and allow yourself to play with words, painting with your fingers all the phrases that might not make sense to someone else. If you've got a novel other other piece in progress, take a scene and rewrite it from the same character's point of view--only as a child. You may stumble on a great insight into the main question of all fiction: Why?

I remember doing this with Adrian from Made of Honor. He had a chip in his tooth, but I didn't know why. I did a journal in his voice (not for the book, just background work) and realized that Dana had chipped it when they were younger by jumping over him at the skating rink. He'd gone down to keep her from falling. From there, I saw clearer who he was and who the two of them were together. Though I didn't plan it, several scenes that ended up in the book were written right then. So, slow down and play around. It won't hurt anything.

Today's Grace:

Father God, Thank you for the reminder to come to You as little children. Help us to remember how to truly open our hands and hearts so that You can fill us with Your best gifts. Thank you for the children in our lives who remind us not to take ourselves too seriously, but rather to be serious about You.

In Jesus' name, Amen

Today's Rhythm: Ta Ta You Jesus, Kirk Whalum

Writing exercise: Set your timer for 8 minutes. Describe the room you're in from the point of view of one of the objects in the room. Go!

Related Posts:

Eight Minute Exercises #1

Eight Minute Exercises #2

Eight Minute Exercises #3

Always and Forever

          "Write what should not be forgotten…" Isabel Allende

Some of my favorite writings will never be published for the public (though you've seen some of it on this blog). They are remembrances, cracks in time that hold pieces of me. My poems especially hold these captured moments and help me to imagine snapshots of my characters' lives.

The other day, I was nine years old, standing in the hallway at my aunt's house. The air is thick with afro sheen and Old Spice. My cousin is in front of me, in the bathroom doorway. He's picking his afro to amazing heights. Always and Forever is playing somewhere in the house. He starts to sing, my cousin, who all the girls in my class think is cuter than Michael Jackson. I think he's just my cousin, but I like all his girlfriends and how nice he is to my friends. His singing is off key, but his sincerity, especially how he closes his eyes on the high notes, makes up for it. He turns to me, smiles and pats his hair. I nod, agreeing that it's perfect. As he walks by, I inhale deeply, catching the Jergen's lotion and Vaseline I missed before. I wonder, maybe for the first time if love might be real after all.

When I write my books, I am often still that girl in the hall, catching a moment I didn't expect, even though it traveled to me through my own fingers. My cousin is married with grown children now. Johnnie Wilder Jr., the lead singer of Heatwave, died recently (after spending most of his life in a wheelchair from an accident not long after today's video). And yet, sometimes I catch myself humming the song at a red light and thinking of shiny shirts with skyscrapers and cake cutter hair picks the my grandmother believed would put all our eyes out, boys becoming men in summertime...

Writers die, but our words live on. The trick sometimes is learning what to keep, what needs not be forgotten. Today, we'll take a step further on that journey.

Peace,
Marilynn

Today's Grace:
Father God,
Thank you for our memories. Good or bad, they are ours. Show us how to capture our memories and the new experiences You have planned for us. Help us to love the people around us, keeping in mind that any moment has the potential to become a memory.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Today's Rhythm: Always and Forever, Heatwave

Today's writing exercise: Set your timer for eight minutes. Remember a moment in your childhood associated with a song. Start writing and don't stop until the timer goes off!

Oh Happy Day

"To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make." --Truman Capote

Last week we talked about writing short stories, moving from our eight-minute scales to more of a song. Nobody jumped on the before midnight challenge (it was to start with  "It sounded like a good idea at the time"). That's okay, I'll be glad to put you on the spot...again.

The reason for all this is so that whether you become published or not, writing continues to be a joy to you. Though writing is my job, if I didn't still take the time to allow myself to dream and write on non-work projects, writing could easily become only that--work.

We can't let that happen.

Though having hundreds or thousands of people read your work is great, that's not where the real magic happens. The real stuff that makes the people out their laugh and cry is when you laugh and cry, amazed as a treasure of words pours out that you didn't know existed. Sometimes when you dive in, you come up with a boot or a tire, but that's cool too. It's just one less thing keeping you from the treasure, the music underneath all our excuses.

So today we'll be singing scales again with an eight minute exercise. I pray that it helps you to find your voice and make your words sing.

Today's Grace:

Father God,

Restore unto us the joy of our salvation. Stir up the gifts You've given us. Remind us that we are just the instruments and You are playing the music. We only need be available and obedient, diligent to keep digging deeper. Pour out your notes upon us, Lord. Let us write Your rhythms of grace.

In Jesus' name, Amen

Today's Rhythm:
Oh Happy Day, Sister Act 2

Exercise: Set timer. Write for eight minutes using the words:

JOY                       ACRID                            CATACLYSMIC

GO!

Finding Your Rhythm

I try to warn young writers: For Christ's sake, stop being an intellect. Get your work done. Don't worry about what you're doing. Don't plan anything. Just do it. Throw it up. Throw it up, and then clean up. I was at a bookstore last night and a book clerk there said, 'I'm having trouble with a novel I'm writing. I do this, I do that.' I said, 'Stop that' -- no outlines, no plans. Get your characters to write the book for you. Ahab wrote Moby Dick, Melville didn't. Montag wrote Fahrenheit 451, 1 didn't. If you let your characters live, and get out of their way, then you have a chance of creating something individual." --Ray Bradbury

Over the past few weeks in this column, we've been doing (I hope!) eight minute writing exercises. These had no certain theme or agenda. No outcome or intent. They were simply notes, scales, exercises to help you spread your wings and find your voice.

Another very important discipline is mastering the short story. Though the idea is often scoffed at now in favor of plot and pace, most novelists of old started with short stories and progressed to novels. Often, those short stories became their novels. That's what happened to me with my first novel, Rhythms of Grace. I fancied a novel too big for me and I wanted to simply learn how to tell stories by...telling stories. Well, I did. I wrote a short story every day (or week sometimes) and after several months I realized something amazing: they all went together! Without realizing it, I'd begun a novel anyway.

If I'd kept on with that, maybe it'd been published a lot sooner. Instead, I plotted and paced and huffed and puffed and blew the book down! Five years later, when I pulled it out again, I started over with a new point of view and a more settled heart. It was the characters who had to tell the story, not me. And I must say, they did a pretty good job of it. This fall, I hope you'll think so too.

(And before anyone writes defending plotting, it's just an exercise. Think of it as a stretch before the big dance.  :)

Exercise:

In the meantime, we're going to go old school today and write a short story (up to 1500 words). It has to have a beginning, middle and ending. I'll give out five books to the first five people who email me their completed story by midnight. Oh yeah and the first line is from one of my favorite tombstones from yesterday's post:

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Go!

Today's Grace:

Father in heaven,

Have mercy on us. Let us feel something real today, do something true. Help us to push past all our fears and hopes and both see and be who we are. Who You are. Lead us not into temptation. Let us not lust for the approval of others. Help us set our hearts on You.

In Jesus' name, Amen

Today's Rhythm: Jazz singers Ledisi and Rachelle Ferrell singing a few "notes"

Instruments of Righteousness

Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin: but yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God.Lat (Romans 6:13, KJV)

I love listening to new artists (or proven artists before they made it). It thrills me to hear a true voice, one I know I'll never confuse with another. When I read a book, the feeling is the same.

What is voice? It's the thing that editors only know when they see it. That something that can't be included in guidelines or proposals. It's the something that makes you forget that only meant read the beginning. It's what separates songs from singers and books from writers. It's that alla this in the alla that.

How do you find voice? Write. Read. A lot. Start to identify where you fall among the notes. Are you in the gospel choir? The blues section? The dark, smooth world of tenor and bass? The heights of the soprano section? I'm working on my eighth novel, but I long for new notes, that one sentence that stuns me to my knees.

I can't think about that while I'm writing though. In the first draft, where I am again now, is about obedience. Worship. I don't get everything all at once. I'm learning to just play my part. Why? Because I'm just an instrument. A broken instrument at that. Most times God gives me a piece that is out of my range, beyond my ability, outside my experience.

That's when I get excited. I'm back on my knees, in my chair, worshipping the best way I know how (I can't sing a lick y'all). We're all just instruments. Our real job is to stay in tune with the bestselling Author on earth, God Himself.

So loosen up. Have some fun. This isn't about being published or popular, but about fulfilling your purpose. It's about obedience. Without it, none of the rest matters anyway (as I must learn again and again until I really get it). Find your rhythm and play it to THE END.

Here's an excerpt for inspiration and an exercise for dedication. Remember, have fun!:

EXCERPT

EXERCISE: Set your timer for eight minutes and let it flow, typing or writing without stopping. Your piece can be anything but it must include the following words. Go!

STACCATO               JAZZ                     BLUE

Today's Rhythm: Music of my Heart, Nicole C Mullen

Unquenchable Love

Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned. (Song of Solomon 8:7, NIV)

After policing five classes worth of valentines, hearing five sermons on love and marriage today alone and being bombarded with hearts everywhere I go, I have to give in and say love is in the air. Or at least the air is perfumed with enough chocolate and roses to make us hope so. For many people, the same air of love will have become a funk of despair by the weekend. Teen boys who arrive ahead of schedule may find their same bear (in a different color) already delivered. Some wives, wooed by the latest marriage book or store display may find that her husband has purchased another appliance despite her blatant hints.

And yet, love, true love, the kind that cannot be drowned by distance or disappointment, the kind that cannot be bought or sold, will go on even without the festive garb of hearts and roses. People backpedal at the thought of romance novels, but no one can resist a great love story. Especially those of those who've read and reaped from the amazing love story in history - the courtship between God and mankind.

So even if you're working on a horror-mystery-historical-space opera (Don't laugh. This is a real example. And it's not alone) love is going to come up some time or the other. The question is, will it be the one-day-a-year kind of love or the kind that lasts a lifetime? The latter usually has less roses and more thorns, fewer chocolates and more bitter moments. And yet, there are sweet moments too, times that bloom for a lifetime. Ready to write? I hope so!

Father God,

Help us to unmask ourselves and our words so that we can experience and write about real love. Thank you for loving us even when we didn't have the sense to love ourselves. May our words draw us and others closer to you.

In Christ's name, Amen.

Eight Minute Exercise: Set the timer (or tell someone else to time you) for eight minutes. Don't think. Don't edit. Keep your pen, fingers, toes or whatever you're writing with moving until the time is over. Your job today is to depict love in an unlovely setting. Your writing must include the following words:

ICE     BROKEN    LOVE

Have fun!

Today's Rhythm: No Ordinary Love, Sade

We Fall Down

"...For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23)

Part of the homework for my missions class this week is to review the Romans Road to Salvation, a set of scriptures often used in ministry training to help people explain the gospel. From there we'll move on to sharing our testimony in three to five minutes (since an interpreter on the mission field doubles the time). According to the culture you're in, there may be certain things to highlight and other things to keep out. I remember Ted Dekker's "Expanding Boundaries to Facilitate the Truth" talk at Mount Hermon 2004 about making our words connect with culture. He talked about how his parents had difficulty on the mission field until they described Jesus as a pig, the most valuable member of each family in that culture. God had killed His pig, His little son for them. The people's faces and hearts opened in understanding. Sacrifice. This, they could understand. They just needed to hear it in ways that made sense to them.

I find the same to be true in writing for this generation. People don't want the cute version of Jesus. They want the real Jesus, bloody, yet victorious, reaching down in to the midst of a messy lives. When I say that somebody stopped-dropped-and-rolled me away from hell, they get it. They want it. They just don't always trust the hands that bring it (including my own). They want to know who we really are, who are characters really are, what we've thrown over the wall, what we do when nobody's looking.

Though we're concerned with the language and constructs, today's readers are concerned with the truth--usually the uncut version. We've got to be concerned with the same thing and stop being afraid to bleed.

Jesus wasn't.

Studying those verses on the Romans Road made me think about the conversions scenes in Christian fiction. Some very gifted and respected authors have shared their ideas about these types of scenes. Some wonder if such scenes keep the genre from being considered art. Others see the scenes as a natural outworking of both the character's world and the author's worldview. Still others are Christians who write for the general market, but include such scenes as the stories allow. However you see these "birth stories", one thing is for sure--writing a good one is difficult.

(Note: If you're not a Christian, then think of some empassioned belief you hold: politics, family, social justice, cruelty to animals, the environment, etc. Religion isn't the only way to be preachy. :)

I've written a few conversions. My most memorable probably is Dana's ex-boyfriend in Made of Honor, a sexy rapper who once her name tattooed on his arm. Before knocking up her sister and running off, that is. Now he's back and preparing for a wedding. Who leads him to Christ? Dana's childhood love (who also got busy with said sister) and his Messianic Jewish best friend. Are they a group of perfect people? Nope.  In fact, when Dana hears of this miraculous spiritual happening, she isn't feeling it at all. Though she prayed for this, she's been had before. Too many times, in fact...

And on it goes. Mostly though, my characters have had some point of believing in their lives but have somehow doubted or distanced themselves from it. I don't plan it that way, but that's how it's worked out so far. Some of them have a long way to go. Others of them, like the sister in the mix of all the guys in Made of Honor, just don't quite get it no matter how hard they try. (Dahlia might get her day someday. LOL)

I've been touched many times by testimonies, both fictional and true-to-life. Some say that such scenes are gratuitous in Christian fiction. I don't think it's intended that way. (In romance, Christian characters are usually expected to marry another believer, so maybe that is a factor).

Maybe the reason for the scene isn't the problem. Perhaps it's our inability to convey the pain and perplexity of life both before and after coming to faith that makes our depictions seem less than authentic. As Christian writers, each of us may be sent down a different path, one which may or may not include writing conversion scenes. So instead, we're going to shoot for what a call a conviction scene, that place along the way when a character realizes that something is beyond his or her control. The rules are the same as always. Read the piece, set the timer...and don't stop your fingers until the time us up. Oh yeah. Don't forget to bleed...

Excerpt #1

Excerpt #2

Except #3

Prayer,

Thank you Lord for new birth, both in the spirit and the mind. Help us to dig deep into You and into ourselves, so that we might grab the chin of the world with our words and bid them look at the things they don't want to see. Help us to do the same when You grab our pens. Show us your path, Father, both for our letters and our lives.

In Jesus' name,

Amen

Today's Rhythm: Who am I? by Da T.R.U.T.H. featuring Tye Tribbett

There's a Book in That...

And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to [his] purpose. (Romans 8:28, KJV)

Life doesn't always go according to plan. It didn't for me yesterday. An expedition for winter jackets in the garage gave me the worst asthma attack in recent memory. And that was after I backed into somebody in parent pickup at the school. (I looked back, but amid the boy bodies and backpacks, I somehow missed that little WHITE car. Son #2 says I blame everything on the kids, so I guess it was just me!) Though the other car was unharmed (I was going a couple miles per hour) and its driver, someone's older brother or uncle seemed unfazed, I was horrified.

I said something like,"Everyone's going to be scared now when they see me coming!" One of the twins reassured me. "Don't worry about that Mom. They're already scared of you. Remember when you hit the fence two years ago?"

Um, yeah. But still...

Though the first month of the year isn't over, I can tell that my word for this year is prayer. Things are going a little crazy. Even more than usual. I remember two years ago when I tapped the school fence trying to get out of someone's way in the mad-get-to-work-get-my-kid rush of the parent pickup lane.

Just like now, I was seeking God hard, writing from my heart, trying to turn some things around. Things were shaking. Some of my best stuff crashed to the floor. Yet in the midst of it all, I felt closer to God than I had in a long time.

I feel like that now too, though I wish I had my friend Joy still in town to give me her favorite chocolate and tea "but it wasn't" therapy. It goes something like this:

"I could have really hit that car. Someone could have been hurt."
Smile. Crunch. Sip. "You're right. It really could have been bad. Thank God it wasn't."

Failure-as-a-mother-christian-and-human-being sigh. "But how could I not have seen a WHITE car? I mean I know my eyes aren't the best, but still. What if I'd been going faster? What if it'd somebody's new car? Or horror, one of my neighbors!" I bury my face in my hands.

She pours more tea, glops in honey and kisses the stray baby that waddles by to the play area. "It might have been your eyes, but I doubt it. Stuff happens. Make an eye appointment. It really could have been a mess, but it wasn't..."

And on it would go like that, with peanut butter and honey kisses sandwiched between our words until I finally conceded that yes, it could have been a total disaster, but IT WASN'T. Now that Joy is gone, I have this conversation with her on the phone (I need to call her now) and with myself in my head.

The new ritual is between my oldest daughter and I who is good for giving my words back to me. When life turns upside down, I wait for her to get home from high school. She recounts her day (from breakfast to the last bell). I tell her about my madness, replete with hand waving and inflection (if the boys don't yell it out first). She shrugs, smiles and heads for the kitchen, but not before throwing my favorite phrase in my lap: "There's a book in that."

And there usually is...

If you look at the work of the best writers, painters and artists of our time, there is some element of personal tragedy or triumph in it. This is the dough that all good stories start with. And then, as I say when I teach fiction, "you have to flip the story and give it away."
For me, I was the harried mother with the van full of boys, but the real story was in the guy in that little white car who wouldn't even roll down the window or get out and look at his car. Was he afraid? Used to impact? Coming to kidnap someone's child and didn't want to be seen? In real life, he probably thought I was nuts and was trying to escape posthaste, but in the land of make believe, he could be anyone. He could have been through anything. The question isn't just who he is, but WHY he is that person.

Today's eight minute exercise is to capture one of your own most embarrassing moments. It doesn't have to be fluid, but try and capture as much as the sights, smells, sounds and words as you can. Tomorrow, flip it to the point of view of another person in the story and give it away. (Sandy Cove Word Warriors, y'all should have this down.)

Anyhoo, when life falls on your head (or backs into your car) take a deep breath, pray a short prayer and get out your notebook. There's a book in that...

Father God,
Thank you for Your presence, for your protection and for your guidance. You give us all things that pertain to life and godliness. Everything we need is in our hands and in our hearts. Stir up our good gifts, order our steps and give us favor and wisdom as we set out to create for Your glory.

In Jesus' name,
Amen

Today's Rhythm: Jaci Valesquez, Sanctuary

Stumbling Toward Grace

I am under vows to you, O God; I will present my thank offerings to you. For you have delivered me from death and my feet from stumbling, that I may walk before God in the light of life. (Psalm 56:12-13, NIV)

Sometimes it seems like things aren't moving. There's no blinding light on the road, no voice from heaven. Just dusty roads and long nights, dry days of stumbling on like "Bunyan's pilgrim" as Malcolm Muggeridge would say.
 

And that's about right. It's not always fun, trying to write or reach a dream. Most of the time. It's often confusing and frustrating, but then we remember Jesus. He is the author and finisher of our faith. We are book that must be finished. Perhaps God has called you to write for Him. Will you be published? Maybe. Will you write anyway? I hope so. The best audience, the first audience, is an audience of One. Whether it’s journaling, articles, poetry, short stories, novels...time is required. Shards of minutes, sliced from our already overstuffed lives. And yet, we must war against the noise of it, if even for a few minutes, trusting that even as He does when we pray, when we seek Him in the Word, He will meet us. Teach us.

So take the time, giving God all your best words and secret expectations. Complete the doing this year. For God. For yourself. Fall in love with your dream again and enjoy the journey. This time, while you're dancing and nobody's looking, may be some of the best time of your life. I cry out to the dream in you in hopes that you'll take to the road of hope, even if it means you trip a few times. God knows how to catch His children.

"We have been called to be fruitful--not successful, not productive, not accomplished. Success comes from strength, stress, and human effort. Fruitfulness comes from vulnerability and the admission of our own weakness.”—Henri Nouwen

And so, in prayer, in hope, in fear, you just do it, whatever your dream is. Do it because you were destined for it, because someone is waiting for it, wrestling again with your absence, though not knowing who you are. If you enjoyed last week's Eight Minute lesson, here are a few readings for new exercises. Don't forget to set your timer!

Reading #1 (scroll down to excerpt)

Reading #2

Reading #3

Lord,

Where there has been strife, bring peace. Where we have sought power, we admit now to weakness. Plant in us the root of grace, the hope of glory. May our books—in life and on paper—end as well as Yours. May we be rooted and grounded in  your love, ever stretching out our best branches.  Help us grow down deep, Lord. Help us grow down deep.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

Today's Rhythms: Crystal Lewis, Ron Kanoly, Beauty for Ashes

Bring Somebody With You

"I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy testimonies [are] my meditation..." (Psalm 119:99, KJV)

One of my most requested writing workshops is Inching Toward Excellence: Finishing Your Book 8 Minutes at a Time. I was (and still am) a newbie when I developed it and didn't dare attempt a craft class or some advanced topic, so I dealt with what God had dealt with me on: completion. At a time when there was no time in my life--newborn twins, homeschooling, husband working 70 hours a week, church, six children--God spoke to me about completing the doing. I'm an idea generator of sorts and could easily stay at that place, making things up and never acting on them, but God brought people into my life who spoke a word of completion. That word, I believe, is what makes that workshop popular. That and another key point of the workshop: when you come back with your completion, bring somebody with you!

Right now I'm part of a Christian writers group here that developed out of a conference I was part of last year. The group meets once a month and I hope to bring some of them with me to Sandy Cove or ACFW next fall. Why? Because just as I pray also that my children pass me by and love God and love people better than I have, I pray that for the writers whose lives I've been blessed to be a part of. Some of them have done so already! And I'm thankful, for such is the kingdom of God. My pastor said something on Saturday that I've been tossing around in my head also: "Leadership is basically slavery." Becoming a bondservant. I think if we all thought about it that way, fewer people would want the things they want, myself perhaps included.

Where is God taking you this year? What did you accomplish last year that you're going to do again, only better? As you consider these things, consider also who's coming along with you. I'm not the best mentor due to time constraints, but I know that there are people who have mentored me through their art without ever knowing it. In the end, I know that if someone fixes their heart on Christ, they will surpass any knowledge I could ever impart and reach all the places God might send them. So keep linking elbows with people and let's keep grabbing each other's chins and turning back to glorious, majestic Jesus.

He's something marvelous.

Father God,

I thank you for every person you have brought into my life to impart wisdom, knowledge and grace to me. Help me to both disciple and be discipled in this new year. May this blog be a place of access and information, somewhere we all can tilt our heads and see You more clearly. Thank you for all the people I tried to bring along for the ride and they ended up bringing me to You instead. I love how you do that. We give you glory for You are good and your mercy endures forever.

In Jesus name,
Amen

Today's Rhythms: Lord You are Good, Israel Houghton and New Breed