WHERE DID MY COMFORT ZONE GO?

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we are comforted by God.” 2nd Corinthians 1:3-4
Earlier this year, I received some news I didn’t want to hear. The publishing house with whom I am published announced they were planning on closing down the line for which I was writing. I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I’d proposed a three-book series in February and was notified that they wanted all three books. A contract for the first book soon arrived. With the first book of the series finished and sent, I had begun researching for the second book when I got the unwelcomed news. So I put aside my notes and tentative synopsis for book two, and focused my attention on a different project—writing a novella with a group of three other writers, and all four stories would be connected. Sounded like fun, and I dove in. However, I needed to think beyond the novella and develop another story idea for a new proposal.

With the encouragement of my writing partners and my agent, I stepped out of my comfort zone and worked on a story idea that could be developed into trade-length fiction (80,000 words) It was a scary step because I was comfortable writing the shorter length stories, but it seemed God was nudging me to try my wings.

In September, I traveled to St. Louis to attend the annual conference of the American Christian Fiction Writers, planning on pitching this longer story idea to the editor of Barbour. To my great surprise, I received an email from this same editor the day before the conference kicked off, telling me they had decided to keep the line going for which I had been writing, and she was requesting the manuscript for book two. And she needed it as soon as possible.

Book two? It wasn’t written yet. All I had was a tentative synopsis. And she wanted it when? Can you spell P-A-N-I-C? My writing partners and my agent all encouraged me to go for it. But did they truly realize what this meant? I wasn’t just stepping outside my comfort zone. I was being launched out of it. My comfort zone was a nice, tidy, little box with predictable boundaries.

* I would never put myself under a tight deadline, because I can’t write under stress.
* I don’t write fast. One chapter a week is my max.
* I never could understand how some writers could juggle more than one story at a time.
* Write an entire book in a month? Preposterous!!
* I’ve always tried to make sure my home is neat and clean, meals are ready on time, laundry is done, errands are run, and the oil in the car gets changed on schedule.

Well, God pretty much blew up my comfort zone and put me in a place where I had to zing out a chapter a day for the first week, and then a chapter every other day in order to meet this deadline. In addition, I’ve still had to balance the novella project and keep the longer story idea on the back burner so it doesn’t get cold. Can’t remember the last time my floors saw a Swiffer. Dinner? Um, leftovers again. What do you mean you’re out of clean underwear? Last but not least, I am writing an entire book in one month. Comfort zone? What comfort zone?

But here I am almost thirty days later, one chapter away from completion. How did I do that? . . . . I didn’t. God did. He knew He had to take away everything I viewed as a cushion until I had no other recourse but to fully trust Him to do what I considered impossible.

Two days ago, I got a sweet Facebook message from a dear friend. She’s working on her contracted debut novel, and she’s getting discouraged because she’s found herself in a place that frightens her. She afraid she’ll discover she can’t do what is expected of her, and she asked me for advice. What she really needed was her comfort zone, but once an author becomes contracted, the definition of the comfort zone changes. She needed someone she loved and trusted to encourage her along this crazy writing journey. Since I’ve had several encouragers along the way, I was thrilled and humbled to step into the role of encourager—and in this case, comforter.

I read something the other day that made such an impact on me, I printed it out and stuck it on the cabinet above my desk where I can see it every day. It made me realize where our real comfort zone is. It’s not the neat, predictable schedules where everything goes as planned. It’s not remaining stagnant, and it’s not hiding under a rock praying you’ll never be asked to do something you never dreamed possible. True comfort exists only when we fully trust God for every breath and heartbeat.

God does not comfort us to make us comfortable. He comforts us to make us comforters.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

JESUS WAS A STORYTELLER

There are fifty-six separate accounts* in the Gospels where Jesus used parables to get His point across. We think of Jesus as a great orator proclaiming the love of God from the temple or a hillside as He preached to thousands. But the people to whom He spoke weren’t always the wise and learned. More often than not, Jesus spoke to ordinary people—shepherds, fishermen, those working in the vineyards or the marketplace, and townspeople. He used the art of storytelling—that’s what a parable is—to illustrate the attributes of God and explain how God forgives sin in a way common folks could understand and apply to their own lives. In doing so, Jesus set the example for today’s writers of Christian fiction.

This week I’m traveling to St. Louis to attend the annual American Christian Fiction Writers conference. The offering of classes and workshop is as diverse as the various genres available from the local bookstores, and there is something for every level of the writing journey. Beginners and veterans alike will have the opportunity to hone their craft and become better storytellers. One thing stands out—no matter if an author writes suspense or romance, westerns or fantasy, women’s fiction or young adult. Every author attending the conference desires to write the best story he or she can for God.

Jesus valued the art of storytelling. He used word illustrations to paint mental pictures for those listening, and by doing so, He removed the veil of confusion and oppression from those who were under bondage to sin, false gods, and legalism. As writers of Christian fiction, we want to take back what the world stole and reclaim it to honor and glorify the One Who placed the gift of words within us. For if Jesus used the vehicle of storytelling to reach the masses, how can we do any less?

I am humbled when I think of how God has allowed me to pursue my dream, only to remember He was the One Who instilled the dream in my heart in the first place. God won’t start something in my life that He does not intend to finish. Attending a conference like ACFW means equipping myself to follow the path in which God has directed me. If God can use my words to minister to a hurting heart or open the eyes to one in bondage, then I will be a very blessed storyteller.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.


*There are thirty-nine parables—some are accounted two or three times in different Gospels.

DEEP WATER

A few days ago, a friend of mine described this point in my writing career as “dipping my toes in the deep water”. I chuckled and reminded her that I can’t swim. But I must admit her comment made me think.

For the past year and a half I’ve been blessed with four contracts with Heartsong Presents division of Barbour Publishing. This year I had the privilege of seeing my first three books released and thrilled hold each one in my hands. My critique partners, my agent, and my Heartsong editor all told me they thought I was ready to start writing longer, trade length fiction. The very idea struck fear in my heart. I wasn’t ready to dive into the deep end of that pool. My plan was to get a few more Heartsongs listed under my name, and then maybe in another year—or two—I might think about full length fiction.

Did I mention that was MY plan? God has a way of raising His eyebrows and smiling whenever I tell Him my plans.

Last month, I received the news that Barbour had made the difficult decision to close the Heartsong Presents line at the end of this year. My “plans” were toast. So for the past few weeks, I’ve been rethinking the plan—not MY plan, but God’s. Pursuing my own agenda is an exercise in futility, and without God’s breath of encouragement, I could have given up in despair.

Am I ready to attempt longer fiction? People whose opinion I respect seem to think I am. Dipping my toes in the deep water means stepping out into unfamiliar territory. Should I wade in? Am I strong enough to withstand the current? I have the heart and the will; God has placed within me the determination and perseverance. But the deep water carries with it the possibility of drowning.

When I tried to sort out the reasons why MY plans crumbled, God just gave me this patient answer from His Word:

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways,” says the Lord. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55: 8~9

With this verse on my lips, I’m preparing a proposal to take to the ACFW conference in September. Am I ready to dip my toes in the deep water, as my friend suggests? I don’t know. My job is to use what God has given me to the best of my ability. The outcome is up to Him.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

IS IT REAL OR AN IMPOSTER?

"These things indeed have an appearance of wisdom . . . but are of no value--" Colossians 2:23

I was perusing in Internet looking for a good rate on an airline ticket. Over on the left side of the screen, I noticed a box that proclaimed the airlines had just lowered their prices to the very city to which I wanted to go. Yippee, I thought I’d found myself a bargain!

Clicking on the unknown on the Internet is never a good idea. Within two minutes, my computer was slammed with a nasty Trojan horse virus that, among other things, disabled my real antivirus software. Then this insidious malware proceeded to take on the appearance of something else, using well-known logos and acting as though it was warning me of the attack. All I had to do, it said, was click on this security tab and register for their protection and they would insure my computer would be safe. In fact, clicking on their registry would have given them access to all my personal information, bank accounts, credit cards, bill pay information, account numbers . . .

It looked like something it was not. It stole the logos and language of a company I trusted, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and snuck into my computer under the guise of false promises. It was an imposter.

When my computer-guru husband got home, it took him almost five hours to outsmart this thing and eradicate it from my machine. I was so thankful that my husband had the knowledge and computer skills that I lack, and was able to do what I couldn’t.

In the book of Colossians, the apostle Paul addressed the people who were confused about the rules and legalities. They were trying to follow all the man-made decrees and commands, thinking their conformity would be looked upon by God as something good. These mandates were disguised as sanctification, but it was a lie. Paul pointed out that all their good appearances were worthless because Christ was the One who forgave their sin, having wiped out the handwriting of requirements that was against us, and He has taken it out of the way, having nailed it to the cross. (Colossians 2:13-14)
Christ disarmed those principalities and powers, and triumphed over them. He did what we could not do for ourselves.

Becoming so immersed in legalities instead the substance of true holiness robs us of the peace and joy of trusting wholly in Christ and His shed blood. When we try to add to what Christ has already done, it’s like telling Him His death on the cross wasn’t enough.

So many things in this world have the appearance of being good, or noble, or praiseworthy. Many pursuits appear innocent, but anything that suctions life from us is not of God.

That computer virus tried to make me believe it was safe by using the disguise of something I trusted. But someone smarter than me had the power to disarm and disable it.

Sometimes good works are disguised as a pathway to holiness. Good works are fine as long as they aren’t used as a substitute for what only Christ can do. Works don’t make us holy or ensure us a place in heaven. If that were true, then Christ died in vain. God help us to learn to be discerning—knowing the difference between true salvation and the imposters.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

A Place Where Magic Happens

Anticipation of the annual American Christian Fiction Writers conference begins for me around January. I could name a host of reasons why I go to the ACFW conference, but many have already been mentioned by other bloggers. Here are just a few of mine:

* It’s encouraging to be surrounded by people who don’t look at me oddly when I talk about my characters like they are real live people.
* When I volunteer to help out, it gives me an opportunity to give back to the organization that has done so much for me.
* The classes and workshops are occasions to celebrate what we do as authors and fill our energy tanks.

But one of my favorite parts of the ACFW conferences has always been the awarding of the first-time contract by Barbour Publishing. The expression of utter joy on the author’s face and squeals from the critique partners make me want to do the happy Snoopy dance right along with them. I think as members of ACFW, whether published or not, we can relate to that exquisite kind of thrill after years of working and waiting. The anticipation of the dream coming true is what drives us to persevere.

Four months before the Denver conference in 2009, my finger hovered over the mouse and I clicked “Send”, winging my proposal off to my agent who in turn would send it to JoAnne Simmons at Heartsong Presents. Six weeks later, I received a phone call from my agent, Tamela Murray. We chatted briefly and then she said, “Someone was asking me if you were planning on going to the ACFW conference this year.” I told her I was and we talked for a few more minutes. After we hung up, I thought, Who would be asking Tamela if I was going to the conference? The question drove me nuts for about three days, and then I just forgot about it.

At the opening session of the 2009 conference, I sat with my critique partners as Brandilyn’s traditional “Helloooo ACFW!!” rang out over the auditorium to kick off the proceedings. Just before the session closed, Becky Germany and JoAnne Simmons of Barbour Publishing took the stage. I twisted in my chair and said to my crit partners, “I just love it when they do this.” Becky announced the name of the first time contract for a novella, and we all cheered for Rachael Phillips. JoAnne took the microphone and made a couple of comments about the manuscript she was about to contract. I couldn’t wait to see that joy on the face of the recipient.
Then JoAnne announced the title of the book she was contracting: LEAVE ME NEVER. My first reaction was, “Oh man! Now I’m going to have to think of a new title!” --because someone else was obviously using my title. I didn’t hear JoAnne announce my name because my crit partners were all screaming. So my second thought was, “Why are they screaming?” It was like a delayed reaction in comedic slow motion. I sat there dumbfounded with my mouth hanging open. Kim Sawyer pushed me from my chair and said, “Connie, it’s YOU.”

Some unseen force carried me to the stage where JoAnne placed an envelope in my trembling hands. I think I said something stupid like, “I need to go call my husband!” But whatever I said, it must have been at least halfway appropriate because JoAnne and Becky were both smiling.

At the time it didn’t occur to me to thank Barbour, or ACFW, or my agent, or my crit partners, although I do remember “Thank You, Jesus” running through my head as I found my way back to my seat amid more hugs and tears, more squeals and congratulations. I did call my husband and woke him up, but with everyone’s excited screams, he couldn’t understand what I was saying, so I held the phone out to my crit partners and they all chorused, “Connie got a contract!!” Poor guy still didn’t know what was going on.

Later that evening and in the days to follow, reality began to seep in. Understanding of how vital ACFW’s influence was in my writing journey began to flood my awareness. Gratitude filled me as I thought of the way my agent and crit partners (whom I met through ACFW) pushed me to improve my writing and refused to let me give up. God used the Barbour editors to make my dream come true.

The morning of the third day of the conference, we were singing “While I’m Waiting” in the praise and worship session. It occurred to me that somewhere in that room of 500+ people there was a person who felt the same way I had the year before. “Is this truly God’s will? Am I supposed to be pursuing publication, or am I just following my own agenda? Will my time ever come?” That person’s “time” was next year, but he/she didn’t know it yet, so I started praying for that unknown person.

My prayer continued the next day, and the day after that, and after I went home. I discovered praying for this person whose name I did not know was a sweet privilege. For an entire year, I prayed for the recipients of “next year’s contracts” without knowing their identity. At the opening session of the 2010 conference, I cried when one of those contracts went to my dear friend, Rose McCauley. When I told her I’d been praying for her for an entire year without knowing it was her, she pounced on the idea. Rose has been praying for the recipients of the 2011 contracts since last year’s conference.

Whether our prayer is one of anticipation or gratitude, or even a petition for an unknown person, communication with our heavenly Father is the GPS that guides us on this crazy journey we refer to as publishing. Right now, there is an ACFW member who has clicked “Send” and is wondering, “When will happen for me?” Maybe this year is their time.

I’m counting the days till the 2011 conference. I’m asking God to let me learn and grow as a writer, and to give me the opportunity to serve in some way. I pray He places someone in my path to whom I can be an encouragement. What a privilege it is to play a small part in this organization that has been so instrumental in my writing journey.

Oh, how He loves . . .

"In this the love of God was manifested toward us..." 1st John 4:9

I was feeling a bit down yesterday. Everyone has moments in which they wish circumstances were different. I knew this event was coming up, and like every year for the past twenty or so, I was NOT looking forward to it, I didn’t want to acknowledge it, nor did I want anyone else to even know about it.

Yesterday, I turned sixty-one. I think I must have misplaced a decade somewhere because I’m not supposed to be this old. Every year I threaten my husband not to make a big deal about my birthday. He always asks me what I want for my birthday and I tell him I don’t want a fuss made. I don’t want to go out to dinner. I don’t want a bunch of people announcing “Happy Birthday” with silly grins. This year, because my birthday fell on a Sunday and our church was having a fellowship dinner after the service, I held my breath, hoping no one would know. (My husband knew better than to tell a soul!!) What I wanted was for the day to pass unnoticed.

The night before, I lay awake grumbling in my spirit about not wanting to celebrate another birthday. Despite my complaining, God whispered to my heart that He created me, He loved me, and whether I liked it or not, HE was going to celebrate my birth. I mumbled, “Okay, God, You can celebrate. But don’t tell anybody.” Can you imagine what God thought about that?

Switching gears for a minute:

I enjoy bird watching. There are several species that I delight in, but my all-time favorite has to be the goldfinch.
Such a bright, sunny little bird with a perky attitude. Unfortunately, the only time I see goldfinches in Georgia is very late autumn, winter, and early spring. In the winter, their plumage changes to a dull yellowish green. In the spring, their yellow feathers re-emerge and I love watching them flit around the backyard for a week or so. Then they all migrate north and my heart grieves a little, knowing they won’t come around again for seven or eight months and I’ll miss my sunny little friends.

Switching gears back to the birthday thing again:

Yesterday morning, I was sitting in the sunroom, sipping my coffee, when a flash of yellow happened to zip past the window. I leaned forward to catch a better look, and there, perched on a tall stem of my cosmos flowers, was a bright yellow goldfinch. I caught my breath. Surely I was seeing things. A goldfinch in Georgia in July? But there he was, pecking away at the cosmos blossoms. He was joined a moment later by his mate. As I stood at the window staring, open-mouthed at this unexpected sight, it hit me. God was celebrating my birthday by giving me a gift He knew would be a sweet blessing, but nobody else would know. Unless I chose to tell them.

And how could I not share such a precious mercydrop from God? My friend calls things like this a God-kiss. I think she might be right. God gave me a goldfinch for my birthday.

Many of us can list a thousand ways God demonstrates His love for us—the greatest of all being sending His Son to die for us. But how many little, seemingly insignificant ways, does God show us how much He loves us? Do we take the time to notice? Do we even acknowledge that such little things are intimate blessings from God’s heart to ours? Like a goldfinch . . . in Georgia in July . . . in my backyard.

Thank You, God. I love You, too.

Thanks for letting me share my heart.

HOME SWEET HOME

The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him, Who shelters him all the day long, and he shall dwell between His shoulders. Blessed of the Lord is his land, with the precious things of heaven..." Deuteronomy 33:12-13


I’ve been a gad-about for the past several weeks, taking a research trip to the mountains in north Georgia in May. The setting for the three book series I’m currently working on is the north Georgia mountains. I saturated myself in the history and feasted my eyes on the vistas. Trying to capture the beauty with a camera doesn’t quite to justice to the real thing, but the panoramas are etched in my mind and when I close my eyes, I can see my characters surrounded by the mountain panorama.

In early June, I flew out to Kansas for a writer’s retreat. The Kansas trip is something I look forward to every year. Getting together with the ladies from my critique group (we’re really more like a support group!!) is therapeutic and inspiring. We brainstorm each other’s stories and visit museums, pulling story ideas from the charming sights. We laugh a lot too!!

I was home just long enough to do my laundry and re-pack and head north for a visit
with my sister and her family in Pennsylvania. Hanging out with my sister who never fails to make me laugh – [we were playing a hilarious board game with her grandkids and one of the cards Pam drew instructed her to smell the feet of the person next to her!! I laughed till I cried!] -- and nephews who know how to barbeque killer baby-back ribs – [Mmmm, the aroma made my mouth water. Best ribs I ever ate!] – and simply enjoying watching the young’uns play enabled me to make some sweet memories.

We took a side trip to Ohio Amish country and stayed in a gorgeous bed and breakfast—The Charm Country View Inn in Charm, Ohio http://www.charmcountryviewinn.com. This is the view of the Amish farm across the road from the bed and breakfast. What a serene setting. Hearing nothing but birdsong and the clip clop of horse-drawn buggies. We had a wonderful time and picked up some lovely Amish and Mennonite-made crafts to bring home.

But no matter how much I enjoy going, I think I enjoy coming home more. There is something about being home that draws me. Maybe it’s the promise of the HOME we will one day see where we will bow at Jesus’ feet and reunite with our loved ones who have gone before us. When I grow restless and itchy to travel and see friends and family, I can buy an airline ticket or jump in the car and go. But sometimes the restlessness is deeper. It can’t be appeased with an airline ticket or packing a suitcase. It’s a longing to step beyond the bonds of this earth and be welcomed into a Home I’ll never have to leave.


Thanks for letting me share my heart.