NaNoWriMo Starts TOMORROW!

Today is Monday, 31 October. So what? Tomorrow is Tuesday, 1 November. If you're a fiction writer, that means something.

November 1 kicks off National Novel Writing Month. For those scribes who participate in NaNoWriMo--a competition that pits the writer against herself and the calendar--it means writing through blocks, persistent ringing telephones (leave a message, for crying out loud!), stomach cramps, raging fevers, the Black Death, hunger pangs, super sales at Kohl's, birthdays (you'll get a stinkin' "belated greetings" card on 3 December, okay?), baths (which cuts down considerably on folks' dropping by to chat), dogs clawing and whining at the kitchen door, and firemen using a battering ram to break down the front door. It's not that the writer isn't concerned about his house burning. He cares. He just doesn't notice. He's in the moment, immersed in the story.

Fifty thousand words in 30 days: that's the goal. That's pressure. So don't pop in with a casserole. Don't call. Don't send email. Don't die. At least not until 1 December.

Happy NaNoWriMo, writers!

SOUPer Simple Comfort Food for Writers

In the 2009 film Nim's Island, Jody Foster plays an agoraphobic writer of middle-grade adventure novels whose diet consists of Progresso soup. She has it delivered to her door. I suppose as canned soups go, Progresso is as good as any, but nothing beats a bowl of steaming homemade soup on a crisp autumn day.

Since my writer's den can be on the airish side, I'm often huddled over my keyboard cocooned in a brown crocheted shawl with a mug of hot tea to my right and an earthenware bowl of soup at my left elbow.

To help you gear up for winter writing, I'm posting soup recipes that call for no more than four ingredients (excluding salt and pepper). Delicious doesn't have to be complex.

Amish Beef Rivvel Soup

1-1/2 to 2 pounds of beef (use chuck, round, or stew beef); cook in water until tender (I use a pressure cooker). If using a solid cut of meat, dice it up in bite-size pieces or pull it.

Rivvel:

3 large eggs, beaten well. Add salt and pepper as you would if you were going to fry them. Stir in as much unbleached flour as possible. (I begin with a fork, but switch to two knives to cut in more flour.) Continue adding flour and cutting it in until most of the dough is the consistency of navy beans.

Bring the beef broth to a boil and, while stirring constantly, drizzle the rivvel into the boiling broth by the handful. If you don't need all the rivvel, seal the remainder in a zipper bag and store in the freezer, to go in another soup later on. Once you've added as much rivvel as you need, turn the heat down to low. Salt and pepper to taste. Simmer until the rivvel is done, as you would any other pasta. This soup goes well with crusty bread and a salad.

Beef Barley Soup

Cook 1-1/2 to 2 pounds of  beef, cooked as for Beef Rivvel Soup above.

Rinse 1/2 pound pearl barley well. Add to boiling beef broth. Reduce heat to medium. Cook until barley is tender, about 20 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. This soup also goes well with crusty bread and a salad.

Kickin' Tomato Soup

1 can tomato soup

1 can Ro-tel diced tomatoes and green chilies (I prefer mild, but suit yourself.)

Mix together in a heavy saucepan and heat. Serve topped with toasted home-made seasoned croutons and a generous dollop of sour cream. 

Okay. Okay. The next recipe uses two times four ingredients, but if you make it, I think you'll agree it's worth the effort. Enjoy!

Fried Potato, Bacon, Corn Chowder

8 slices bacon, cut into 1" pieces

2 cups cubed potatoes

1 cup chopped onion

1 cup sour cream

1-1/4 cups milk

1 can cream of chicken soup

1 can whole-kernel corn, drained

1/4 teaspoon pepper.

Cook bacon over medium heat for five minutes in a Dutch oven. Add potatoes and onions. Cook until potatoes are tender (15 to 20 minutes). Add remaining ingredients. Cook until heated through (10 to 12 minutes). Amazing!

I've shared some of my favorite soup recipes. Would you  reciprocate with one of yours? Click "Comments." Also, if you try one of mine, let me know how you like it.

Write on!

Because of Christ,

Sharon

Reclaiming All Hallows Eve

[Note: Whenever I refer to the Church, I mean the regenerated followers of Jesus Christ, not some brick-and-mortar structure.]

The Church has allowed Satan, the ancient enemy of Creator God, to steal, or at least taint, many of our celebrations. The man Saint Nicholas, Bishop of Myra, who gave his all to follow the Savior, has morphed into a jolly, rotund, caricature we call Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny continues to try to usurp the position of the resurrected Savior. Children are taught erroneously that Thanksgiving was a time when the Pilgrims thanked the Indians for helping them to survive in the wilderness.

All Hallows' Eve also has suffered at the hands of the enemy, though not as much as the afore-mentioned, since it was never purely Christian and has clearly pagan origins. Most agrarian cultures celebrate significant events in the seasonal growing cycle: harvest time, solstices and equinoxes, and planting time, for example.

The origins of All Hallows' Eve--Hallowe'en (don't forget the apostrophe)--go back 2,000 years to the Celtic festival of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). The word means "end of summer." Pumpkins, apples, and various gourds were a significant part of that event. The Celtic new year began on November 1.

By 43 A.D., the Romans had conquered the Celts, and within the following 400 years, had integrated their own pagan festivals into Samhain, including Feralia, occurring in late October. Feralia was a day to commemorate the dead.

"Christianity" spread through the Celtic lands by the 800s. In the eighth century, Pope Gregory III established that November 1 would be All Hallows' Day. According to Roman Catholic belief, All Hallows' Day was when souls were released from Purgatory and allowed to wander the Earth for 48 hours. Apparently, Pope Gregory was attempting to supplant Samhain with a Christianized version. That was Pope Gregory's M.O. He often claimed pagan celebrations and buildings and imposed a "Christian" significance on them. For example, he claimed the Pantheon (which was dedicated by the Romans to "all gods") for a Christian purpose. His All Saints' Eve was celebrated much as Samhain had been, with bonfires, parades, and people wearing costumes of saints, angels, and devils.

Today, many people claim that Hallowe'en is an innocent harvest festival, but a quick trot through the costume section of the local Wal-Mart tells a different story. With a glance backward to Samhain, Feralia, and, yes, All Hallows' Eve, one can see that the culture of death lives and thrives in today's celebration. It amazes me that many Christian parents continue to celebrate this time of ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and witches, labeling it "innocent fun." What is innocent about rubber masks that portray people who have been maimed, disfigured, frightened out of their minds, or murdered? Parents who encourage such "innocent fun" are opening the creaking door on the occult and nudging their wee ones over the threshold. Hallowe'en always has flirted with the macabre. May our All-wise God grant to those children the wisdom that their parents and grandparents lack.

Jesus says that He Is the Light of the World (John 8:12). As His followers, we are commissioned to reflect that light in today's dark world (Matthew 5:14).

As for Hallowe'en, we need not reclaim it; we never owned it.

First Draft, DONE!

 

Sunday is my older grandson's birthday. To celebrate, I finished the first draft of my second middle-grade novel manuscript.

He stood at my elbow and looked expectantly at the computer screen. "So now you're done with it, Gran'ma?" I hated to burst his bubble, but I had to be honest.

"No, sweetheart. I'm just beginning."

"What do you mean? I thought you said it was done."

I explained that only the first draft--the raw writing of the thing--was done, that now came multiple revisions. "And I need to cut approximately five-thousand words."

"That sounds boring, Gran'ma," he said, as he walked out of the room. I decided not to overwhelm him by describing my search for an agent. After all, he's just turning eight. 

Happy birthday, Reuben!

Addendum:

No, that's not a picture of my typewriter. I use a computer (though much of my initial writing is done in a Moleskine notebook with a good-quality pen or mechanical pencil). I just love pictures of old typewriters and other "writerly" schtuff.

Book Review: THE BETRAYAL by Jerry Jenkins

Book Two in the Precinct 11 trilogy
from Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois (Copyright 2011; released 1 September 2011)
400-page trade paperback, $14.99
ISBN: 978-0-4143-0908-8

From Jenkins's website: 
"As a longtime Chicagoan, the son of a police chief, and the brother of two cops, I found this writing a labor of love."

Back Cover Copy:

Detective Boone Drake has just pulled off the most massive sting in Chicago history, bringing down the heads of not only the biggest street gangs in the city but also the old crime syndicate. The story is the biggest in decades, and the Chicago Police Department must protect the key witness at all costs. Yet despite top secret plans to transfer the witness prior to his testimony before the grand jury, an attempt is made on his life.

It soon becomes apparent that someone inside the Chicago PD leaked information to the shooter. As evidence mounts and suspicion points too close to home, Boone doesn't know whom he can trust. An investigation reveals that the turncoat might be someone very close to him, even someone he loves--or is someone just trying to cover up corruption at the highest level of the police department? Trusting the wrong person could prove fatal.

The Betrayal is as fresh at today's Chicago Tribune. Literally. The windy city has survived more than its fair share of corruption scandals through its history, including some that are currently being unraveled. One in particular shares several markers with Jenkins's latest novel, though the two don't run parallel.
     I made a quick call to Jenkins's office to see if the current high-level case--involving officers with CPD's elite Special Operations Section (SOS)--influenced him at all. His assistant said no. "He has been planning this trilogy for several years. Since his father was a police chief and two brothers are police officers, he's heard their stories." Thus, the verisimilitude.
     Confession: cop thrillers are not my genre of choice. Though I read and loved Jenkins's Left Behind series, eagerly awaiting each new release, would this book hold that same attraction? Then I read the first four paragraphs.

Boone Drake awoke before sunup with little recollection of the previous two days. [All right. The hook was in my mouth. But it wasn't set yet.]

Oh, he knew the basics--where he was, that he was fortunate to be alive. Two uniformed officers still guarded his door. The noises and odors invaded his room at what everyone still called Cook County Hospital. And slowly, it all began to come back.

Boone, a detective in the Gang Enforcement Section of the Chicago Police Department, had masterminded the most massive sting in CPD history, bringing down the heads of not only the biggest street gangs in the city but also the Outfit--the old crime syndicate.

Key to the operation had been the secret spiritual conversion of gang kingpin Pascual Candelario--and his becoming an informant. [By the time I got to this point, I was hooked.]

The Betrayal  picks up where the first book in the trilogy, The Brotherhood,
leaves off, with Boone Drake in the hospital recovering from the wound left by a 45 caliber Glock slug that had slammed into his chest as he tried to protect Candelario, crook turned Christian. And state's evidence. By all rights, Drake should be receiving a hero's accolades from the department while relaxing and recuperating. Instead, amid accusations against the integrity and reputation of Haeley Lamonica, also a CPD officer and the love of Drake's life, he sets out to clear her name, if she's as innocent as he believes her to be, by uncovering corruption in high places.
     The rapid-fire action propels the reader through the thirty-seven chapters and the epilogue, allowing very little time to gasp for air. As I neared the end, I couldn't lay it down and turn off the light to sleep. If at any point I dared to slip into complacency, sure that I knew what was coming, Jenkins switched things up and sent my heart into overdrive.
     There were times when I was concerned that too much would be revealed about pre- and extra-marital relationships. Also, when Haeley Lamonica is in jail, there is opportunity to go into graphic detail about life and abuse in such a place. I needn't have worried. Jenkins proved himself capable of handling such issues in the Left Behind series, never crossing the line of Christian propriety, proving that a skilled writer need not include gratuitous and offensive details to convey a point.
     Jenkins's characters are well developed and realistic. Even though, as a detective in CPD's Gang Enforcement Section, Drake moves among the dregs of vice, he holds to a high standard, one that reflects Jesus Christ in both his personal and professional life. Those around him who are corrupt spend little time in trying to entice him to betray his calling. They'd rather see him dead.

"Dianna, my wife of 40 years, is my everything," says best-selling author Jerry Jenkins

      Jenkins began his writing career as a sports reporter for his local newspaper. He is former editor of Moody Magazine, vice president for publishing, and now chairman of the board of trustees for the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago. He is author of more than 175 books, including the 70,000,000-selling Left Behind series. He holds honorary doctorates from Bethel College (Indiana), Trinity International University (Illinois), Colorado Christian University, Huntington University (Indiana), and Tennessee Temple University.
      Riven, which Jenkins considers his life's work novel, released in July 2008 to stellar reviews and has been optioned for a movie.
      His articles have appeared in Time, Reader's Digest, Parade, and Guideposts. He is contributing editor for Writer's Digest.
      He has co-written novels and non-fiction as-told-to autobiographies with Tim LaHaye, Bill Gaither, Billy Graham, John Perrodin, Dallas Jenkins (his son), Chris Fabry,  and Ron DiCianni.
      Writers often receive advice to "find the genre you're good in and stick to that." Jenkins either didn't get the message or he chose to disregard it, because he writes with ease in numerous genres, including speculative fiction, cop thrillers, an international spy thriller, and Christian counseling and motivational non-fiction.

Further, he owns Jenkins Entertainment, a Chicago-based film-making company, and Christian Writers Guild. He is an in-demand speaker, especially on the subject of writing, and a popular humorist.

He and wife Dianna live in Colorado. They have three grown sons and eight grandchildren.

Read more about the life and work of Jerry Jenkins here.

Read on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

Disclosure of Material Connection: Review copy provided by publisher. A positive review was not required; opinions expressed are those of the reviewer, Sharon Kirk Clifton.

Coming Very Soon: A Review of Jerry Jenkins' THE BETRAYAL

Remembering Grandparents--the WRITE Way

Grandparents' Day became a national holiday in 1978. It is the first Sunday following Labor Day. This year, it falls on September 11.

Grandma Kirk was a strong-willed, independent Quaker woman whose house always smelled of apples and who grew beautiful flowers. Throughout the growing season, vases of cone flowers, sweet peas, four-o'clocks, daisies, dahlias, zinnias, rosies and posies I couldn't possibly name adorned tables throughout her home. She loved me. Sternly.

Grandpa Kirk was the gentler of the two. He spoke little, but lovingly, and he smiled. Such a smile! It spread all the way up to his eyes. He teased, too. Grandpa was an engineer, though I didn't find that out until I grew up. He was the one who tooled up the old Maxwell automobile factory in New Castle, Indiana. (It later became the Chrysler factory.) And if anything went wrong with one of those huge machines, they called Grandpa to fix it. He was the only one who could. He was also a farmer, though his farming days were past by the time I came onto the scene.

A cousin who, by virtue of being older, knew them longer, told me recently that they both loved the Lord deeply.  That blessed me.

I hardly got a chance to know Grandpa Wright, Mama's daddy. He died when I was six or seven. Memories of him come in fragments: because he was tall, he had a broad, comfortable lap; he smoked a wonderfully fragrant pipe; he liked pink wintergreen lozenges; he loved me. Grandma Wright departed this earth before I was born.

Even though all my grandparents were gone by the time I was ten, they impacted my life. So with the approach of NGD, I considered how I could best honor their memory. Write a book, I decided. For a few years now, an idea for a children's picture book about the relationship between a little boy and his grandmother has been niggling about in the back of my mind. This would be a good time to write the first draft of that manuscript.

Whether you consider yourself a writer or not, I urge you to record memories of your own grandparents. Provide details. Preserve them for posterity.

It's Your Turn:  How do you plan to celebrate National Grandparents' Day? Leave a comment, if it please you. It would certainly please me!

Write on!

Because of Christ

Postscript

Quotations about Grandparents

Bill Cosby--"What is it about grandparents that is so lovely? I'd like to say that grandparents are God's gifts to children. And if they can but see, hear and feel what these people have to give, they can mature at a fast rate."

Eth Clifford--"My grandfather was a giant of a man ... When he walked, the earth shook. When he laughed, the birds fell out of the trees. His hair caught fire from the sun. His eyes were patches of sky."

Lord Chesterfield--"Being pretty on the inside means you don't hit your brother and you eat all your peas — that's what my grandma taught me."

Louisa May Alcott--"A house needs a grandma in it."

Irina Baronove-Tennant--"It's so important to give your children and grandchildren inspiration ... Teach them to notice, to pay attention, to appreciate, and to be inquisitive. Don't just look, try to see."

Teresa Bloomingdale--"If your baby is 'beautiful and perfect, never cries or fusses, sleeps on schedule and burps on demand, an angel all the time,' you're the grandma."

Marcy DeMaree--"Grandma always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day and now the day was complete."

Vaughn J. Featherstone--"What a wonderful contribution our grandmothers and grandfathers can make if they will share some of the rich experiences and their testimonies with their children and grandchildren."

Find more at Grandparents.com.

Write on!
Because of Christ,
Sharon

Writing Amish

Each year I am privileged to travel to LaGrange County, Indiana, to tell stories as "Jack's Mama" at David Rogers Days, held the fourth weekend of August. DRD is one of Indiana's hidden jewels, as festivals go. Set in the log cabin village of David Rogers Park, it is in the heart of Indiana's northern Amish country. The event celebrates this state's pioneer heritage, as well as the life and philanthropy of the man for whom it is named. The rolling hills, large black walnut trees, wildflower meadows, and verdant farmland provide a beautiful setting. Guests pay a modest gate fee to enjoy traditional acoustic music, a sleight-of-hand artist (who also swallows fire and serves as ringmaster for a flea circus), a Punch and Judy show, strolling entertainers, a large interactive children's area, early American dance instruction, and various pioneer reenactors demonstrating such things as spinning, weaving, smithing, and bowl-making. Most of all, I love the audiences, many of whom are Old Order Amish.
       This year's festival was different for me because I've read several works of "kapp fiction." While it's not my genre to write, I enjoy reading them. I'm most familiar with the works of Beverly Lewis, Wanda Brunstetter, and Cindy Woodsmall. I've heard that kapp fiction is popular among the Amish, especially if the local Bishop permits them. But how accurately do they portray Amish life, I've wondered, since the best fiction is firmly rooted in truth.
       One of the Saturday vendors at DRD was a gracious Amish woman named Kathryn. She was selling some of the foods eaten following the church service on Preaching Sundays: homemade dill pickles, the best I've ever tasted; fried pies, Amish peanut butter, snickerdoodles, huge gingersnaps, sour cream sugar cookies, oatmeal raisin cookies, and cheese wedges. After discussing food and swapping recipes, we got on the subject of Amish fiction.
       "Do you read them?" I asked.
       "Jah. Wanda Brunstetter. Beverly Lewis. I read them when I get time." Of course, having read the books, I knew exactly what she meant, since they rise early and work long.
       "How accurate are they to your lives?"
       "A few are very accurate. Those ladies, for example. But many are not."
       I told her I check out the credentials of the writer and look at the acknowledgements page. Does the author thank members of the Amish community who proofed the manuscript for accuracy? Obviously they can't if they didn't invite some knowledgeable reader to critique the work.
      "Sometimes," Kathryn said, "writers will include things that either are not a part of the Amish way of life or are peculiar to a particular community." She indicated that she shuns the work of writers who are careless with the facts.
      I appreciate when authors are clear about the setting of time, place, and, in the case of kapp fiction, specific community. As with any kind of writing, it behooves us to do the research.
     

'Bye-'Bye, Borders

I'm sitting on a chair at a tiny table in the entryway of the Greenwood, Indiana Borders because this is the only seat left in the place. I feel as though I'm in the scene from You've Got Mail where the Shop Around the Corner is going out of business.

I know. I know. That little privately-owned children's bookstore had fallen victim to the big, bad chain store. My sympathies are with the small neighborhood shops, but since I've never lived near such a spot, except in my writer's vivid imagination, I am feeling sentimental about Borders' closings. Many pleasant, bookish, coffee-scented memories revolve around Borders--so many, in fact, I can almost forget Borders is a super chain. Or was.

My history with Borders goes back nearly a decade. My younger daughter, Dawna, introduced me to the joys that awaited just through those heavy red double doors. Before she went to South Korea to teach for a year, before she met and married a man from Nepal, before she had wee ones we would head for Borders, arriving around noon and staying until they ran us out so they could lock up for the night. Since that was pre-knee-surgery, she'd ask me what I wanted to look at. I'd dictate my wish list, and, while she went off to gather what she could, I'd order some scrumptious coffee and a sweet treat or an asiago-and-spinach-filled soft pretzel, warmed, of course. She'd return with a stack of books and magazines about writing, quilting, the arts, poetry, cooking, and literature. Once my nest was made, she'd go seeking after her own interests--arts, crafts, international cooking, travel, Chris Van Allsburg books (she's an illustrator and loves his work), and other miscellany. Then here she would come with a stack so high she could barely carry it, let alone see over it. And we'd stay for nine or ten hours, camping out while reading, sharing, drinking coffee, watching people, writing, and drinking more coffee.

When she married, we continued our Borders visits. Since her husband worked nights, we didn't have to hurry home. And of course, I never could leave without a few purchases. I suppose we should have paid rent on the table, too.

Sometimes I didn't read; I just wrote and wrote for those hours. It was at Borders that I discovered the guilty pleasure of writing in Moleskine notebooks such as the one I'm using to pen these words. From their eye-pleasing pale green paper and thin lines to the natural cardboard covers and their sewn construction I love them.

Dawna continued to be my Borders companion, even as the children came along--one, two, three--though the visits became shorter of necessity and less frequent. Now, just as the children are reaching an age when they enjoy browsing and finding a cozy corner to peruse a good book, Borders closes those magical red doors.

Don't hit me with the old line, "It's not personal. It's business." While I'm quoting You've Got Mail, I may as well add, "It's personal to a lot of people." I don't want to get into a conversation about the economy. Nor do I want to discuss the things I didn't like about Borders. I just want to bid the chain adieu. Something will come along to take its place. Hopefully.

The table I rest my elbows on is for sale for $75. The two chairs, $50 each. They're sturdy. Everything is for sale. Every bookcase, display rack, coffeemaker, counter, shelf ladder, and peg board hook. Every rug and every mug. From my vantage spot, I watch the constant flow of customers entering empty handed and leaving with bags full of bargains. Those shoppers, what are their memories, I wonder. Are they the least bit sentimental about the passing of this icon? Are you?

Because of Christ,
Sharon

Crafting the Conclusion

The end is in sight, though elusive. I'm eager to begin revisions on my middle-grade historical fantasy, but I still have two chapters to go: the climax and the conclusion.
     The temptation is to slap something down, knowing that it will change in the course of general revisions, thus following the advice of the writer who said, "Get it down. Then get it right."
     I belong to a wonderful historical critique group through ACFW Scribes, and I feel a self-inflicted guilt if I don't keep my chapter submissions flowing at a quasi-regular pace. However, my seven-month stint back in the English classroom prohibited any kind of a regular writing schedule. Anyone who has taught understands the teacher's work day doesn't end with the final bell.
     In his book Plot and Structure, James Scott Bell acknowledges that writers, especially professional writers working on deadline, are prone to this approach. Bell advises writers to take time to craft the ending well.
     "A weak ending can ruin an otherwise wonderful book," Bell writes (p. 99). "A strong ending can redeem an otherwise mediocre book. So take your endings seriously." Reading that, I felt vindicated for taking my time with these final chapters, even in this, the first draft.

Bell, James Scott: Plot and Structure, Writer's Digest Books, Cincinnati, Ohio; 2004