ACFW follow-up from Rocking Chair Ridge

Posted on October 7, 2007 by D.

It just occurred to me that I never posted a follow-up to the ACFW conference. It isn’t that there’s nothing to post. It’s that there aren’t enough hours in the day.

I came away from ACFW with a different perspective on my writing. It’s not that my writing suddenly changed, but that God used some people there to talk to me about my writing in terms that I’d never considered. It’s not that I’ve come away with a different direction for my writing. It’s not that I’ve experienced a great life change. It’s not that sudden and jarring a thing; more like subtle, inner “ah-hah!” moments that tie together things that the Lord’s been doing in me. And–scary though it may be–it’s starting to make sense.

One of the great things about the ACFW conference was putting faces to the names of those friends I’ve met online. People like Sharon Hinke, who read a few pages from my current work in progress and proclaimed me “a chick-lit writer trapped in a man’s body.” And I finally got to meet some of the ladies in my online critique group. And… well, if I tried to list everyone, I’d run out of space on the web server.

I came away energized and encouraged, and almost overwhelmed by the positive feedback I got for my project. It’s hard for me to put words to, so you know it’s a big deal!

Today, I’m at one of my favorite places on the planet–Ridgecrest, North Carolina. I’m in a rocking chair on Rocking Chair Ridge at the Ridgecrest conference center, passing the time waiting for my room to be made ready. (I’m early, believe it or not!)

I’m here for the Advanced Novel Retreat that’s going on this week. I’m excited about this event, because it’s a smaller affair that’s totally focused on improving in the craft of writing. No pitching, no selling, just growing. And I expect to grow this week.

Expecting results is at least half of getting results.

And there’s the pitch!

Posted on September 19, 2007 by D.

That phrase brings to mind the thousands of baseball games I’ve heard on the radio over the years. I think that all the guys who do MLB play-by-play must have attended the same broadcasting school, because they all seem to say the exact same line the exact same way every time the pitcher launches the ball toward home plate. Or, maybe they’re all imitating the same guy. Or maybe they’re all imitating each other. I’d still like to hear one of them rock the boat and find a new and different way to tell listeners the pitcher’s let one fly.

I suppose that today’s crop of CBA novels have a lot in common with baseball play-by-play. There are a lot of people writing according to the same formulas and fitting nicely into the same little genre slots. Sometimes I’ll be reading a novel that seems familiar, and I realize that I’ve read pretty much the same book before but with different character names and settings, and maybe a twist or two, but the same general formula. I’ve been advised that the fastest road to getting my first novel published is to write one of those predictable formula books, Romance or Romantic Suspense or a nice Cozy Mystery. Safe stuff that proves I’m sane and able to capture complete (albeit boring) thoughts on paper and complete a manuscript (a remarkable number of first-time novelists can’t do either).

Well, I tried. It’s hard to stay “inside the box” when I was never inside the box in the first place. I tried with all my might to write a straightforward Romantic Suspense, but finally had to come to grips with the fact that it’s not. There’s romance, there’s suspense, but those are all sub-plots. At its core, it’s a character-driven story of a man who is put into situations that cause him to re-evaluate his life, his values, and his destiny. I like to think of it as a journey of grace.

The title of this fledgling of mine is Inheriting Air, and it’s about to be pitched.

No, not pitched as in “tossed into the abyss,” pitched as in “Do I have a book for you!”

I’m headed toward the annual American Christian Fiction Writers’ Conference in Dallas. ACFW is a wonderful organization full of (well, mostly) wonderful people who are passionate about writing great fiction. In the course of the conference, I’ll have the opportunity to sit under the teaching of some wonderfully talented writers and work toward taking my grasp of the craft of writing up a notch or two. I’ll have the joy of rubbing shoulders with a few hundred folks who love word-wrangling just as much as I do, and put faces with the names of those whom I’ve chatted with, shared with, and in some cases rejoiced (or wept) with online. And I’ll have the opportunity to “pitch” my novel to editors and agents, with the hope that one or more will catch the same sort of excitement about this story that is all over me.

Inheriting Air is the story of Jim Clarke, the protege of an aging, childless billionaire. Jim’s uncle dies and leaves him a little AM radio station in a little town in South Arkansas. It’s an annoyance that he can’t get rid of no matter how hard he tries. He is forced to travel to the little town to either “put some lipstick on the pig” and make it more salable, or put it to death and walk away from the distraction. Inheriting Air is the story of how God uses that little town and little radio station to change Jim’s life, and then uses Jim to change theirs.

Feel free to pray for me as I attend the conference and pursue this new venture. Whether the editors love it or hate it, what’s important is that it all happen according to God’s timetable. He sees this from a much better vantage point, and if He says “not yet” it’s for good cause (even if I can’t see it).

It’s my job to pitch. the Lord will take care of lining up the right catcher!

And Then There Were Three

Posted on September 6, 2007 by D.

An incredibly encouraging sign appeared in my kitchen this morning. It was something I haven’t seen in a while, a phenomenon that spoke to me loud and clear about God’s grace and His passion for “healing the broken hearted and bandaging their wounds.” (Psalm 147:2)

As I doctored my coffee, Wookie asked for–in her usual demanding tone–a taste of half-and-half.

Well so what? Your cat asked for cream. Big deal!

Yes, it was a big deal. Wookie hasn’t asked for a drop in nine days. I gave her a little one morning a few days ago, and she didn’t waste it (she’s never met a dairy product that she doesn’t like), but she was rather half-hearted, as though drinking her cream out of obligation rather than desire. This morning’s demanding tone warmed my heart the way the bell on an ice cream truck warms the heart of a child.

Blondie You see, nine days ago, we lost a dear friend and family member. Blondie, one of Wookie’s feline cohabitants, was sick and went to the kitty doctor for help… and she didn’t come home. Reading what I’ve just written, it strikes me how we humans tend to soften the reality of death with quaint little phrases like “passed away” or “at rest” or the ever-spiritual “gone home to be with Jesus.” But this is one of the ways in which cats are smarter than humans: Wookie knew, the minute I walked in the door (if not before), that her sister Blondie was dead. So did Tingy and Marconi.

Just like the affected humans, each of our three remaining felines grieved in their own way. Tingy paced around the spare room, where Blondie was hiding out when I went to take her to the vet. Marconi, strong man that he is, withdrew to his office (under the bed) and mourned in solitude. Wookie lost her taste for cream. I came home and quietly put the empty cat carrier away, sat in my favorite recliner (where Blondie was fond of joining me for lap-time), and wept in temporary solitude. It wasn’t long before Wookie and Tingy joined me, Wookie in my lap and Tingy on my chest, nose-to-nose.

Blondie was a gentle soul. She was rescued as a kitten by Helping Hands for Little Paws, our favorite animal rescue organization. She was one of only two who survived from a diseased colony of feral cats. She was a beautiful and elegant feline, one that I couldn’t even begin to imagine in the wild, though her instincts were strong. Her personality was quiet; she would sit with us in the same room for hours and could come and go undetected. Every now and then she would crave a little lap time, and climb whatever obstacle stood in her way to have her place in my lap. And then, when she was finished, she was finished, and she moved on.

Blondie spoke infrequently, and of course only when it served her purpose. Most mornings, she would appear in the kitchen as I prepared our morning coffee, and request her morning portion of cream in a gentle and unassuming voice. Being who I am, the only reason she ever had to ask twice was her own impatience. But she was a generous and giving soul, as well. You see, there are times when we don’t give Wookie cream because she… well, let’s just say she seems to have her moments of lactose intolerance. If we set a bowl of cream out for Blondie and not for Wookie, Blondie would have just a taste and leave the rest for her elder sister. I’ve seen days when Blondie didn’t even sniff at the bowl–she just gave Wookie the high sign and walked away.

I miss Blondie tremendously. It took me these nine days to come to the place where I could write this. But when Wookie came to me this morning and asked for cream, I knew this would be the day. Just as Wookie is finding healing from her broken heart, I am finding healing for mine. And yes, writing critics, I used passive voice there on purpose–we are finding, not have found. Because healing isn’t an event, it’s a journey.

Still Rockin’ . . . But, it’s been an “interesting” week.

Posted on May 24, 2007 by D.

Here I am, pretty much in the same chair and same spot I was in last time I made a blog entry. The weather is even the same. It’s even about the same time of day.

But things have changed.

I started out with a grand plan to blog my way through the week, posting pictures of the beautiful facilities here at Ridgecrest, and pictures of me with impressive writer-types and and such, and pictures of the goings on here at the conference for the benefit of a few folks who wished that they could be here. It was a wonderful plan.

Then it happened.

It was late Monday when I finally got back to my room and sat down at the ol’ laptop. I noticed that it was warm–an unusual thing, since it was supposed to be sleeping at the time. I opened the lid and saw a black screen with a little window in the middle that referenced some obscure internal Windows process that had failed, and the machine was hopelessly locked inside its own brain.

The only thing I could do was reboot. That yielded an ugly “blue screen of death.” The internal diagnostics told the story: “DST Short Test Failed.” Translation: Hard Disk failure. Ouch.

I called Dell Support Tuesday morning, and on Wednesday a shiny refurbished drive and a set of re-installation disks was dropped off at the front desk by DHL. Later on Wednesday, I had a functioning computer again, albeit without most of the software I use routinely, and without a buncha my files. Not to worry, though. Once I get home, I have the means to extract most of the files from this sickly drive before I return it to Dell. But, that will teach me to go off without doing a FULL backup.

So, my plans were scuttled, but that’s okay. Seriously, I don’t mind. True, I was cut off from the rest of the virtual world for a few days, but that left me with nothing to do but focus on the conference and getting the most out of my classes and pitches. I survived quite nicely, much to my surprise.

And, it’s been a fabulous week. I’ve gotten to meet a few folks I’ve met with online, I’ve had the opportunity to rub shoulders with the likes of James Scott Bell, McNair Wilson, and Dr. Ted Baehr. I’ve met with some great editors and agents, and I’ve been asked to send proposals for my current novel-in-birth. I’ve been educated, challenged, inspired and refreshed.

And frankly, I would rather not leave Ridgecrest and go back to the real world. . . but I know I must.

I was talking with a girl at the front desk the other day, commenting on how much I love Ridgecrest and wish I didn’t have to leave, when I came to a startling realization. If I were able to stay here on this mountaintop, sooner or later I would take it for granted and lose my deep and reverent respect for the place. You can’t know you’re on the mountain if you’ve never been in the valley, and you never know how special a place is if you’ve never been to places that aren’t special.

All that makes me wonder. Am I missing something wonderful and amazing right in my own neighborhood? Is there a place right where I spend most of my time that’s just as special as Ridgecrest? I’ve got a feeling that there is, and I pray that the Lord will give me the vision to see it and make the most of everything he’s gifted me with.

One thing I’m certain of–there’s a wonderful spot in Little Rock where I long to be, and my yearning to be there is stronger by many times than my desire to stay at Ridgecrest. And it’s because of that wonderful spot that I will soon say goodbye to this blessed mountaintop and head for the airport. I’ll be on my way to the best place in the world. Right next to my soul-mate, my lover, my best friend–My wife Sharon. Wherever she is, that’s where my heart longs to be.

Dorothy was right. There’s no place like home.

I’m Rockin’!

Posted on May 20, 2007 by D.

I’m writing this from a splendid, weathered rocking chair in a place known affectionately as “Rocking Chair Ridge.” It’s a wonderful little strip of elevated concrete that spans the gulf between two buildings at the Ridgecrest Conference Center, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. I’m here for the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference that starts late this afternoon, and believe it or not (and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t ) I’m early. I arrived a little past noon, and after dodging the busses, vans, and cars of departing youth groups and Salvation Army women, I found a parking space and got myself checked in. I didn’t even have to wait in line–there wasn’t another soul on my side of the check-in desk.

But the downside of my early arrival is that my room won’t be ready for a couple or three hours . . . so I’ve got to hang out here on Rocking Chair Ridge and endure the sunny, 71 degree weather and the feel the gentle breeze on the back of my head. Darn! What a hardship!

Ridgecrest is one of two big conference centers owned by Lifeway (The Southern Baptist Convention). This is the second time in my life that I’ve been to Ridgecrest. The first was last year at about this same time, and it was a much different experience. For 17 years I’d been listening to my SBC brethren speak about Ridgecrest in the same hushed tones that Catholics use to when they speak about the Vatican. I didn’t understand why they had such a special affection for the place. After all, it’s just a conference center. I’ve been to lots of conference centers. No big deal. But last year, as I drove through the gate, I could feel it. It felt different inside than it did out there. I felt as though I had passed through a filter and a lot of the “stuff” I had rattling around in my heart stayed outside. All the apprehension, all my carefully crafted strategies and slick, well, prepared pitches and other “me-focused” stuff stayed outside.

I registered, checked in to my room, settled into the chair and opened my conference folder. Then, I read the theme scripture and cried for about half an hour. When I got up from that special moment at Jesus’ feet, my whole perspective on the conference and in my writing in general was different. I had no idea what was next for me, only that whatever it was, if I was going to continue writing I was either going to do it God’s way or not at all.

It was a wonderful conference last year. I left with new opportunities, new ways of thinking, and a totally new level of commitment to what I was doing as a Christian writer. And, to my surprise, that junk that refused to follow me through the gate wasn’t out there waiting for me when I drove back out to head home. I guess that without me feeding it, it died of malnutrition while I was inside.

It’s different for me this year. I knew what to expect, and I didn’t bother packing stuff that wouldn’t make it through the gate. There was a point last week when I wasn’t sure I was going to make it here, but it seems that God wants me here this week, and he made a way. Some day I’ll realize that He’s bigger than me and my problems.

So, here I am on Rocking Chair Ridge. My room’s probably ready now, but I’m in no hurry. I’ll just sit here and rock a while, and listen for the still, small voice in the breeze as it welcomes me back to Ridgecrest. It’s funny . . . the other day I was telling someone about Ridgecrest and they said, “You talk about the place in the same hushed, reverent voice that Catholics use when they talk about the Vatican.”

And they were right.

Reflections on Sandy Cove 2006

Posted on October 15, 2006 by D.

It’s been a little over a week since I returned from the 2006 Sandy Cove Writers Conference. I’ve finally decompressed a bit, paid my “vacation tax” at the radio stations (or at least made a some substantial payments), and have caught up on my rejection letters and current writing projects (or at least as caught up as I’m ever going to be). I can finally take a moment to reflect on the conference and the lessons I learned there.

It was a great week overall, even though I was sick with a bug of some sort that had me coughing and hacking through the whole conference and kept me semi-mute (believe it or not). I think it was God’s way of saying “Dan, shut up and listen a little more.” I did just that, although some of the attendees might not agree (imagine how mouthy I would have been with my whole voice!) Still, there is a theory that learning can only happen when one’s mouth is shut, and I did learn some things at Sandy Cove.

One thing I learned on my way home is why the attendees who have been to Sandy Cove in the past and flew in for the conference all flew in to Baltimore (BWI) instead of Philadelphia (PHL), even though BWI costs a little more. I learned the hard way that PHL has horrible problems with outgoing traffic. Apparently only one of PHL’s runways can be used for outgoing flights because of noise issues. My 6:32PM flight didn’t leave the gate until a little past 7 PM, and spent the better part of an hour waiting in line for the departure runway. I missed my connecting flight in Cincinnati (the last flight to Little Rock that day), and got to stay the night at a cheap, seedy motel courtesy of Comair. Next time I go to Sandy Cove, I’ll fly through BWI.

But enough about the travel. Let’s talk about the destination.

The Sandy Cove Conference Center is a wonderful place to be, whatever the event that brings you to this bay-side haven of rest. In addition to the full schedule of conferences and special events, Sandy cove is a great place for a group or personal retreat. I met a number of folks who were there for a night or two under the “Bed and Breakfast” program, and if we lived closer, I’m sure we’d be among them occasionally.

Every Christian Conference Center has its own unique personality and focus, and I couldn’t help but note that there seems to be a pattern of guests coming to Sandy Cove after traumatic or stressful seasons of life for a time of healing and restoration. The Cove has an impressive program called Operation Oasis that allows servicemen returning from deployment in the Middle East to enjoy a time of restoration and reconnecting with their families–free of charge. There’s also an impressive scholarship assistance program to help those with financial challenges to attend programs and events at Sandy Cove. I heard that over $8,000 in scholarships were awarded for the Writers Conference alone, and over 40 attendees were there thanks to the Scholarship program. The Sandy Cove staff is one of the most helpful, servant-hearted crews I’ve ever known. It was quite apparent to me that ministry is the top priority across the board at Sandy Cove. It’s a wonderful place.

Writers Conferences also have unique personalities and flavors. The Sandy Cove Writers Conference has a very distinct spiritual focus, one that draws the participants to consider their writing–even writing in secular environments–as a calling from God, a mission to “Take the Word to the World.” There is, of course, also coverage of the business and financial realities of the publishing industry and writing in general. Sandy Cove is a good conference for newbies to the world of Christian writing/publishing, and there was a remarkably large number of attendees who were at their very first writers conference, many who were green as grass and still figuring out whether or not God is calling them to write. I know for certain that there were some who left knowing that they are not and never will be writers. The faculty was gentle and sensitive about that, emphasizing the importance of pursuing your individual calling and being who God made you to be. The faculty was warm and personable, very approachable, and obviously loved sharing their passion and spending time with fellow wordsmiths.

The conference wasn’t perfect, but then again neither am I. They tried a new idea this year, a concept that included “homework” assignments in the morning sessions that were reviewed during the afternoon “mentoring” sessions. There was some mis-communication among the faculty, and not everyone was on the same page, resulting in a less-than-optimum, somewhat confusing plan (or lack thereof). I suspect that the 2007 conference will deal with this better. If I have a complaint, it would be that most of the sessions (in the non-fiction track, at least) were rather elementary, and I would have appreciated a little more “meat.” My favorite session was a continuing class taught by Doug Newton, senior editor of Light and Life magazine. The class was loaded with practical teaching to help improve our writing, but we were just getting into “the good stuff” when we ran out of time. It would have been valuable to split the non-fiction track into beginner and intermediate/advanced tracks. I also found it troubling that there was some misinformation presented in one of the mentoring sessions in response to a some entry-level questions about writing for magazines. It wasn’t deliberate misinformation in my opinion, likely just an area where the mentor’s experience was limited.

But, don’t get me wrong. My “complaints” are relatively minor overall. The Sandy Cove Writers Conference was a great experience, and I recommend it heartily, particularly for beginning or unpublished writers. One of the best things about writers conferences is the opportunity to gather and build relationships with editors and fellow writers, and in that sense Sandy Cove was an absolute home run. I came away with many new friends, and relationships that will last as long as I do, or perhaps longer. Some of my contact with editors has opened some interesting doors of opportunity. More important than all that is that God spoke to me at Sandy Cove. He spoke through editors, writers, and even through an agent, believe it or not. He also spoke to me directly, as I sat alone in the late-night moonlight by the water’s edge and allowed Him to restore my soul and revitalize my vision as a writer.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention an add-on session that wasn’t affiliated with the writers conference (other than by the fact that the teacher is the assistant director of the conference). AuthorizeMe is a workshop designed to get the book idea that’s been rattling around between your ears out of your head and onto paper in the form of a book proposal ready to pitch to an editor or agent. Sharon Norris Elliot teaches the use of storyboarding for capturing, analyzing and organizing those book ideas, as well as explaining the required elements of a non-fiction proposal. AuthorizeMe is usually a two or three day seminar, and trying to cram it all into a single 10-hour workshop was challenging but not completely impossible. There were eleven students in the class–ten women and me. Fortunately, I’ve been in the deep end of the estrogen pool before, so I handled being the minority representative without much trouble. Sharon Elliott did a fine job, and her capable assistant Jeanette Scott (one of my favorite faculty members) was a real asset who offered valuable input and insight. One of the most valuable parts of the process was the time we spent working around the room analyzing each other’s proposals. I started out with a unique (aka ”strange” if you’re linear) idea and ended up with three different book concepts that grew out of the workshop. The one I decided to pursue at the conference is a humor book (not at all what I started out to do) that generated a lot of interest among the editors. I’m going to be submitting it to one of them as soon as I finish some polishing and fine-tuning.

Did I get my money’s worth out of AuthorizeMe? Yes, I think I did. There was nothing taught that I didn’t already know, but it was a good refresher course and the group dynamic with twelve women who didn’t know me or my previous work helped bring some things to the surface that may have stayed hidden otherwise. If your writing vision includes a non-fiction book and you don’t have a clue how to make it happen, AuthorizeMe is exactly what you need, and I recommend it highly.

I’ve got to admit that I miss Sandy Cove. I didn’t get nearly enough of the place to suit me, but I got what God wanted me to have from the place, and now I’m back on the firing line again, “taking the Word to the World.”

Thank you, Lord, for Sandy Cove. You can feel free to send me back there as often as you would like. Via BWI, please.

Cingular 3G in Philly, but I miss Sandy Cove.

Posted on October 4, 2006 by D.

I’m writing from gate E1 at the Philadelphia International Airport. There’s a lovely WiFi signal here, and it’s free in a few hotspots on concourses B abd C. However, it’s eight bucks a day here in concourse E, and I’m just too cheap for that. Cingular 3G to the rescue! I’m getting a great 3G signal here, with good throughput and consistent speed. Not the fastest I’ve seen anywhere, but still a great step up. It’s a beautiful thing!

It’s always sad when something wonderful comes to an end, like a great film or a pint of HaagenDas Sorbet. The Sandy Cove Writer’s conference is over, and that is a sad thing in many ways. I have some wonderful new friends that I won’t see again for a long time, and I still haven’t had my fill of the magnificent views of the Chesapeake Bay that are such an integral part of the Sandy Cove experience. On the other hand, I really miss my beloved Sharon and the kitties. I’m not looking forward to Little Rock’s heat (it’s 91 there now, 74 at the Cove), but I can’t wait to be back home with my soulmate and our little friends.

There’s so much I want to say about Sandy Cove, but I’m too tired to do it justice. I’ll hold off on anything further until I’ve slept and decompressed, lest an editor happen by and see anything less than my best work. But make no mistake — I’m going to miss Sandy Cove and the wonderful new friends I made there. If you’re one of them, give yourself a hug for me.