A Very, Very Good Excuse

My excuse for not blogging so far this week? I FINALLY finished my manuscript! Yes!!

Or at least, I'm finished as far as I'm concerned. I just hit the "send" button and shot it off to Janet, my agent. Now I'll just have to wait and see if she thinks I'm finished. If you would like to say a little prayer for me on that score, please feel free. I want her to have wisdom and guide me in the right direction, but I'd also like to be finished up with this project. At least unless someone gives me a contract and then wants changes. I'll be quite happy to work on it some more then.

But if not...well, I'm ready to move on. Those of you who have put up with my whining and dragging my feet know that this manuscript has been a struggle for me. On a happy note, I have some new ideas I'm excited about, so no matter what happens, I'm looking forward to writing this year.

Anyway, I just wanted you all to celebrate this milestone with me. I'll try to write something more substantial soon. But not tonight. It's fairly late already, and I have to get up at 5 a.m. to drive to an out-of-town work meeting. That may be fairly normal for a lot of you, but I don't do 5 a.m. I'm also dreading the drive because I not only have to drive to Atlanta, but all the way through it and about an hour beyond. All in morning rush hour traffic.

I'm hoping GPS Lady will find me a way around Atlanta. But I've told you how snitty she can be.

Like I said, pray for me!

Woo-Hoo!!

I just finished a second draft of my romance novel, right on schedule! This is fairly unprecedented for me. (Being on schedule, I mean.) And on top of that, I figured this draft would be about 5,000 or 6,000 words too long, and turns out I'm only about 1,800 words over the limit. That shouldn't be too hard to fix.

The next draft will mainly be tying up loose ends, polishing, and cutting. The end is in sight. Yay!

Hope to say something more coherent tomorrow. But if I don't get back to you before then, I hope you all have a wonderful, peaceful, joyous Christmas.

Finally an Update

It's been weeks since I announced I was taking a blogging break so I could focus on the novel manuscript that I wanted to finish up before Christmas. Some of you have asked me how that's coming along. I'm pleased to report that I made a lot of progress, although not as much as I'd hoped. Actually, I'd hoped to be finished by now, but that didn't happen. But I do have a rough, rough draft and am now into the rewriting phase, which is much easier for me.

I definitely need this to be easier. Writing this manuscript has been one of the toughest projects I've ever tackled--not because the story was all that difficult. I think the real problem has been my attitude. Pardon me if you've heard this story before, but some of you have asked so I figure it bears repeating. (And if you would like to hear my original whining, click here.)

My agent swears that the only real way for me to break into publishing is to write category romance novels, like for Steeple Hill. She does not say that writing these books is easy, just that there are more opportunities for new writers in this genre. I resisted for ages, particularly since I don't usually read those novels. I have nothing against them; we just all have our preferences, and romance novels are not one of mine.

Furthermore, I'm long-winded, I love subplots, and I enjoy playing with language and mood and atmosphere. And that's the type of book I've been writing. And trying to sell. And not selling.

I pointed out to Janet, my agent, that if I can't compete and get a contract with a novel I think plays to my strengths, how will I compete against all those other writers who love category romance--and are already good at it? But she's the agent God sent me and I didn't want to look back on my life and think I was too stubborn to take this opportunity. So I'm trying.

I sent the first three chapters to her a few weeks ago for review, and she had loads of problems with them. I wasn't surprised, since I'm so out of place with this genre. Writing those chapters, I felt as though every word were being pulled out of me, like a tooth or a fingernail. Makes me hurt just thinking about it.

I rewrote the chapters as best I could and send them to Janet, along with a note asking her to feel free to tell me if she thought I was struggling with this category too much, or just wasn't "getting it." That even though I had put in a good bit of time on a first draft, I didn't mind admitting that I stink at this (I put it more professionally than that) and move on. I had folks praying for me that weekend, that God would show me how to proceed based on her response. I was almost hoping she would tell me to stop.

Instead, she said I was now on track, the story was fast-moving and had likeable characters, and she definitely thought I should go for it. So I guess God isn't ready to release me from this yet!

I'd love to think that means I'll publish this novel, but I know from experience that isn't necessarily the case. There are other things He may want me to take away from the experience. I'm having to learn to focus, to make every word count, to skip the atmosphere and get to the action. While I don't want to lose my own voice, it certainly doesn't hurt me to learn to write cleaner and not allow myself to ramble. (Just read a few of these blog posts if you'd like confirmation of that!)

Since Janet told me I'm on the right track, my attitude has been better and I'm finding my rewrites to be easier--like yanking out a hair instead of a fingernail. I think I had been struggling with fear and a sort of hopelessness, not believing this had a chance. I needed that encouragement.

And even though I didn't finish during my blogging break, I still hope to be finished by the end of the year. Yikes! I just realized that's less than four weeks away.

I better sign off and get to writing!

Writing Smart or Writing False?

I wanted to share a great blog post by Kaye Dacus that I read a few days ago. Kaye, a romance writer, was frustrated that so many unpublished authors are advised to start with writing romance, because it's supposedly easier to do and easier to get published. I loved Kaye's post because she pointed out that if writers don't believe in what they're writing, it will ring false, no matter how technically correct it is.

I wholeheartedly agree with Kaye, and I found the post even more interesting because I'm one of those unpublished authors whose agent insists that I need to write romance to break into publication.

To be fair, my agent has never suggested that writing romance is easy. She simply feels, based on her experience, that there are more opportunities for new authors to publish in that genre. So I agreed to try it. She is, after all, my agent--and I haven't had any luck breaking that publishing barrier on my own.


But I'm struggling with my attitude as I write. I'll admit that, for a long time, publishing was my number one goal. But that's no longer true. I don't dislike the romance novel I'm writing. It's fun, and I'd probably enjoy picking it up and reading it if I found it on a shelf. But it's not a genre I would have chosen for myself.

I think, as a writer, I'm a little unusual. When I was a little girl, I started developing several different sets of characters--several little worlds. I love those people I created. I never minded writing or rewriting and rewriting again, because I loved visiting their worlds. I always pictured I would mainly write novels about those folks that I've spent most of a lifetime getting to know.

As I try to focus on what will get me published, it's just a job. I don't think about those characters except during the time in front of the computer, when I do my daily word count. Sometimes I wonder, what if I do get published in this genre? Will I get stuck only being able to publish there? Will it just be a chore?

I have a bad feeling--or a good feeling, depending on how you look at it--that I'm not going to have to face that problem. There are so many new writers out there who are passionate about romance writing that--as Kaye pointed out--I can't imagine me actually succeeding in the genre ahead of them.

So why am I trying this at all? Well, God sent me my literary agent. I want to be open to whatever path he leads me down, whether it's my "dream" or not. I realize we sometimes have to be flexible and put aside our own desires. Or at least, he helps us reach them in a way we wouldn't have expected.

Or maybe he's just using this experience--and thoughts from other writers, like Kaye--to show me that publication wasn't really what I desired in the first place. As Kaye said, "When we [write fiction], we’re actually calling upon things that are real and true: feelings, emotions, experiences, thoughts, deeply held beliefs. If we ignore those things to dash off a particular kind of story not because it’s the story of the heart but because it has a better chance of selling, we’re lying to our readers and betraying ourselves as artists (as Madeleine L’Engle calls us)."

Amen, sister!

Wishing for Duck Feet

I re-read a very profound book the other day, written by a sage named Theo. LeSieg--more commonly known as Dr. Seuss. The book is called I Wish That I Had Duck Feet.

I hadn't read it since I was about seven years old, and trust me, that was a long, long time ago. But it always stuck with me, probably because it scared me. Yes, it's true. I've admitted here before that I was once traumatized by Muppets, and I Wish That I Had Duck Feet made me squirm a little, too.

The boy in the book daydreams about various wonderful things that animals have that he doesn't--like duck feet, deer antlers, elephant trunk, etc. One at a time he envisions himself with these new appendages, first picturing all the neat new things he'll be able to do and the admiration he'll get from his friends. But then realizes the drawbacks and has second thoughts.

Here comes the scary part. He imagines adding all these new attributes to himself at once, which turns him into a whole new creature called a Which-What-Who. In this sorry state, with webbed feet and a long trunk and big old horns, he's not admired but feared. Eventually, he ends up in a cage on display at the circus.

All this is only a daydream, of course. He makes the wise decision that it's best to just be himself, and all is well.

So why am I telling you this? This book kept coming to mind as I mull over my so-called writing career, and the direction I need to take in the future.

When I first started writing, I was just little old me. I wrote the stories that presented themselves to me and didn't worry too much about what to call them.

Then came writers' conferences, and critiques, and meetings with editors and agents and authors, and loads of well-meaning advice. "I think this is really a young adult novel. You should adjust the language." "This is really an adult novel. The characters should be older." "This is close to being a romantic suspense, but you need to look at those guidelines." "This is too literary for a commercial novel. Maybe you should become a literary writer."

One after one, I've taken my poor manuscripts and glued on other appendages. Whacked off my nice psychological ending to give it the traditional romantic suspense, heroine-backed-into-a-corner ending. Removed the "literary" language and tried to make it sound commercial. Sawed it off at the ankles to stick on those duck feet.

After all those Frankenstein treatments, a few of my manuscripts have ended in the trash heap. I think I turned them into unrecognizable Which-What-Whos.

So now the challenge is to be myself, even in my writing. To take the good things I've learned and apply them, but not try to attach so many foreign appendages that I turn my stories into monsters. To discover what I want a novel to be and make it just that--not a conglomeration of ideas and genres and goals.

If any of you out there are as wise as Dr. Seuss and would like to chime in on this, I'd love to hear from you.

I'm So Confused!

I've been doing a lot more reading lately than I usually manage. Part of this is due to the wonder of audiobooks, which I can zip through while driving, house cleaning, cooking, whatever. A couple of days ago, I finished two books almost simultaneously. The first was one of the best books I ever read--the kind that haunts you for days, that seems to hold a part of you in its world so that you wander around in a fog, not completely back to reality.

The second was one of the worst I ever read. I had to force myself to finish it. It was dull, cliched, and pointless.

So guess which one I'm supposed to be reading so I can learn to write for the line that publishes it? Which one am I supposed to be emulating, molding my writing to be more like it? Yep, you guessed it.

My agent feels I need to do this as a stepping stone to eventually writing the kind of books I want to. But I'm very confused. Sometimes I feel I'm changing my writing so much to conform to all these rules and guidelines and genres that I'm losing my own writing voice. Sometimes I worry I won't be able to go back.

Last night, as I finished reading the vile book which shall remain nameless, I started praying for guidance. Here's what showed up in my devotional reading:

"The Lord says, 'I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you. Do not be like a senseless horse or mule that needs a bit and bridle to keep it under control.'" (Psalm 32: 8-9, NLT)

I love it that I got immediate assurance that the Lord will guide me in the right direction. And I certainly don't want to be a mule, although for a moment I had to wonder--is writing something that's against my own nature being senseless, or am I being stubborn and willful by questioning my agent's advice? After all, God sent her to me in a pretty miraculous way.

So, for now at least, I'll try to produce a suitable manuscript for my agent--and hopefully one that still retains my own voice and style. It's going to be tricky.

I'll keep you posted.

Are You Highly Productive or Highly Sensitive?

A few days ago, I introduced you to an amazing book I'm reading, called The Overload Syndrome by Richard A Swenson, M.D. Today I want to tell you about a section that gave me a real "a-ha" moment.

As I've mentioned, since becoming a member of a large writers' group featuring the multi-published, the talented, the successful, and the energetic, I've felt a lot more stress than usual over my writing. If anything, persevering has seemed harder because no matter how hard I work, I just can't seem to keep up.

Swenson addresses this phenomenon, first by saying there are two rules about people and overload: 1) Everyone is different. 2) Everyone is the same.

We're all the same, he says, because as human beings, we do all have limits. We are all susceptible to overloading those limits. As if reading my mind, he broached the question, what about those people who seem to be able to do it all--and on two hours' sleep? Who can run a business and have ten children and do volunteer work and never get tired?

I love his answer. "Indeed such stories are breathtaking. But this does not mean that I should feel guilty if God has not given me those same abilities. We should not be in the business of telling God how He should arrange the personalities in His Kingdom." (p. 30)

Which brings him to the discussion of point 2: Everyone is different. Swenson says that in the area of overload, people are somewhere on a spectrum from Highly Productive People (HPP) to Highly Sensitive People (HSP). Highly productive people are those we just discussed. The ones who can turn out ten novels in a year while working full-time and volunteering in a soup kitchen. Swenson enumerates their wonderful qualities, including their work ethic, great vision, ability to accomplish amazing things. But one downside? "The highly productive person often sets up unrealistic standards for others." (p. 32)

Can I get an "amen"? Swenson goes on to explain that, because such accomplishments come easily to these energetic folk, they expect the same from everyone else.

Then there's the other end of the spectrum, the Highly Sensitive People. I don't have to wonder where I am on this line. Right here at this end, as far down the spectrum as you can go. Here are some qualities of the HSP:

• Have antennae up for social discord or discomfort;
• Sometimes seem antisocial. Not truly reclusive, but their "batteries are discharged" by a lot of social interaction.
• Often creative. "They live in a world in their heads. They are good company for themselves on long car trips, and they don't mind solitude. They dream a lot."
• More susceptible to overload. "They pay a higher emotional price for almost everything...They wear down more quickly." (pp. 32-33)

Swenson then addresses one other category of people--Christians--because they often say they're exempt from overload. You know, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." So, then, saying you're worn down or tired becomes a lack of faith, not a physical or personality issue. Swenson equates the overload issue with other physical ailments that afflict humankind, like flu epidemics. Yes, God may heal supernaturally, but it does not mean that Christians are automatically exempted from catching the flu.

Swenson ends with a warning. "Beware of the presumption of overextending. What if we are out on a limb, doing one hundred and fifty percent of what we ought and then get into trouble?...[God says] 'Remember. You are the creature. I am God. Use my power, not your own.'" (p. 34)

Overload Syndrome

God is truly looking out for me. My church's library is fairly small, and yet when I was feeling frazzled a couple of weeks ago and hoped they might have a book that would help, I found two about dealing with overload.

The first is called The Overload Syndrome: Learning to Live Within Your Limits by Richard A. Swenson, M.D. I think Swenson is my long-lost twin brother, because this man sounds exactly like me. Except for being a successful doctor and actually managing to publish a book. But on this overload thing, we're right in tune.

Swenson starts off talking about his own brush with overload and what he did to change things. He goes on to say this kind of busyness is a fairly recent phenomenon, peculiar to western culture (particularly American) in this day and age. I had wondered about that. How, I wondered, could I feel so stressed and overburdened all the time when, frankly, my parents worked a lot harder than I do? And when I don't even have children?

Swenson was quick to explain. Change in society, in the way things are done, came about fairly slowly for hundreds of years. Then suddenly, things started changing at a head-spinning rate. I know this is true. My father tells me stories of how they lived in his childhood on a farm in Florida, plowing with a mule and picking cotton by hand. It's probably not all that different from the 1800s. But how things have changed since then!

You would think all this progress would make things easier for us, and in some ways, it does. But there's a downside, says Swenson. We've been taught to constantly want more and more, faster and faster. We push the envelope. We push our limits as far as debt and time and energy, until we're way beyond them.

Swenson goes on to talk about the concept of margin--a wonderful idea that means you allow some breathing room between your load and your limits. But he says we've been conditioned to think we're being lazy or doing something wrong if our schedules aren't full up with good things. Swenson has a totally different take on it. According to him, if we have overloaded our schedules with our plans, God may not be happy about it.

"Margin allows availability for the purposes of God," says Swenson. "When God taps us on the shoulder and asks us to do something, He doesn't expect to get a busy signal." (p. 18)

Swenson quotes a theologian named Henri Nouwen. "In the spiritual life, the word discipline means 'the effort to create some space in which God can act...." Discipline means to create that space in which something can happen that you hadn't planned or counted on." (p. 18)

Wow! That's completely different from my idea of discipline--that every moment must be productive, accomplishing something I had planned. And what's one of the symptoms of not leaving that margin in our lives? According to Swenson, we start to resent friends or loved ones when they need us, when they interrupt our plans and ask us for help.

The man just described my life!

I'll probably tell you more about this wonderful book as I read on. For now, though, it's a tremendous help to realize that I'm not alone and that it's okay to admit I have limits. That maybe, just maybe, God hasn't wanted me to be pushing so hard, anyway.

Settling on the East Side? Part 2

When I ended yesterday's post, I mentioned I was getting a little uncomfortable by all the messages I seemed to be getting about crossing the Jordan into my Promised Land of writing. I feel a definite need to stop striving so much and trying to compete with every other high-powered writer in the world, but was God trying to tell me to stop whining and go forward no matter what?

I picked up my Bible for the day's reading in Numbers 32, where the Israelites are finally preparing to cross the Jordan River and fight. Representatives of the tribes of Reuben and Gad came to Moses and said, "If we have found favor with you, please let us have this land as our property instead of giving us land across the Jordan River."

Okay, now I was interested. Some of the Israelites were asking not to cross the Jordan, but to be given land where they already were?

Moses didn't seem too happy with their request. In fact, he blasted them. "'Do you mean you want to stay back here while your brothers go across and do all the fighting?' Moses asked the Reubenites and Gadites. 'Are you trying to discourage the rest of the people of Israel from going across to the land the Lord has given them?'" Moses reminded them that their timid ancestors had done the exact same thing. They scounted out the Promised Land, got scared of the people living there, and decided to stay where they were. Moses warns the Reubenites and Gadites that the Lord was furious with those earlier scouts, and he'll be furious with them, too. (Numbers 32: 5-10, NLT)

Uh-oh. So was the the Lord furious with me for my timidity, my lack of energy? Gulp.

Part of my quandary as I've been praying about my writing is that I set out with this blog to try to encourage other writers and dreamers who might be having a hard time hanging in there and completing their journeys. So if I admit I need to slow down, or that I can't keep up a certain writing pace, will I discourage everyone else? If completing the journey to the Promised Land was becoming God's message to me about staying the course, these verses seemed to make that a very real possibility--that I might be discouraging folks instead of encouraging them.

But then I read further.

The people of Gad and Reuben protested to Moses. "We simply want to build sheepfolds for our flocks and fortified cities for our wives and children. Then we will arm ourselves and lead our fellow Israelites into battle until we have brought them safely to their inheritance...But we do not want any of the land on the other side of the Jordan. We would rather live here on the east side."

They weren't out to discourage or desert their brothers. They planned to fight with them and stay the course. But they had a feeling their inheritance from God was going to be a little different. And when Moses heard that, he calmed down. He thought their request was reasonable and granted it.

I never remember reading this before or hearing it in sermons or in all those other places about crossing the Jordan--that some of the Israelites asked for and received an inheritance on the near side of the Jordan.(v. 16-19)

What exactly does this mean for me as I try to figure out what I'm supposed to do? I'm still praying and pondering, but for now, I've drawn a few things from this:

God does have a promise for me, a destination. Something I'm supposed to achieve.

I am not supposed to give up, wallow in doubt, and quit--thereby discouraging everyone else who's on this difficult writing journey.

On the other hand, it may be all right for me to show that there's more than one way to do things. More than one destination ahead of us. I put a lot of pressure on myself when I try to be just like everyone else in my huge online writers' group. When I try to turn out just as many manuscripts as they do, and go to all the conferences, and write a blog, and read writing books, and think of nothing but how I will discipline myself and publish. No matter what.

But all our lives are different. The stresses and demands, the amount of energy we have, all of it.

God has a promised land for each and every one of us. But we won't necessarily end up in the exact same spot.

Settling on the East Side?

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that this year, I'm on a quest to find out what God wants me to do about my writing at this particular time in my life. Specifically, should I keep on the path I'm on--striving to turn out a daily word count, to follow all the rules, to throw myself into trying to get published? Or should I allow myself to relax a little, take life and writing a bit more slowly, and try to rediscover the joy in this gift?

When I started praying about this, I seemed to immediately be bombarded by allegories about the Children of Israel crossing the Jordan into the Promised Land. You know how that is, right? When God seems to be trying to get your attention by sending you the same Bible verses or story everywhere you turn? That's what happened with this. I heard about crossing into the Promised Land in Sunday Schools and in sermons. I read it in two or three books. Of course I read about it every day in my Bible reading, because the Israelites are just now reaching the Promised Land in my one-year Bible. (Which is going to take me 18 months to read this time around, apparently. But that's a different story.)

But that's not all. I'm in a rental club for audio books, and I've had Believing God by Beth Moore on my wish list for months, but it was never available. Suddenly, there it was in my mailbox. Guess what Beth proceeded to talk about at great length? How the Israelites didn't believe God right away. Hence the wandering and settling for less all those years, rather than claiming the destiny He had for them.

Here's the craziest thing of all. The novel I'm currently working on is called Jordan's Shadow. My niece read a portion of it during this same time period and asked me why I called the character Jordan. I told her it was because when this mysterious girl with no memory shows up in the story, she goes around humming "On Jordan's Stormy Banks" all the time, so they call her Jordan. And the song plays a part in the story. Remember the lyrics to that hymn?

"On Jordan's stormy banks I stand
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan's fair and happy land
Where my possessions lie.
I am bound for the promised land..."

So here I am, praying about the direction for my writing as I work on this book, and God seems to be bombarding me with messages about believing him and not being afraid to cross that river and claim what he has promised for me. It's even in the very thing I'm writing!

I started to feel a bit uncomfortable. Maybe down inside, I really have been wanting permission to slow down. And God seems to be telling me, "Stop whining and doubting like the children of Israel. Cross that river. Do what I called you to do!"

But then the story took a little turn from there. I'll tell you about that next time--hopefully tomorrow.

Waiting and Running and Fainting

A few days ago, I posted that I was on a journey this year to find God's will for my writing. In response, Melanie Dickerson asked a good question--am I being proactive in my quest for publication, as well as sticking it out and learning to wait.

I'm glad Melanie asked, because I talk so often about waiting, but I'm not sure I've talked about how active we're supposed to be while we do. Kind of reminds me of the old saying, "God helps those who wait, as long as they work like the dickens while they're waiting." Actually, I've cleaned that saying up a bit, but the general meaning of it is good.

One of my favorite verses is Isaiah 40:31: "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint." (KJV) Notice it's talking about people waiting upon the Lord, but at the same time they're walking and running and needing all kinds of energy. These folks are active!

So yes, to answer Melanie's question, I think I'm working pretty hard on writing and submitting. I don't talk about those efforts all that much. Maybe I need to so I won't give the impression I think we should sit back and wait for good things to drop in our laps.

In the meantime, in thinking over this question, I wondered if my problem isn't the opposite. It could very possibly be I'm just plain lazy. Seriously! I think I would prefer to sit back and wait. I'm exhausted. I've been writing steadily and submitting for decades, but I've really made myself buckle down the last couple of years. In 2006, I wrote a novel in eight months. That may not sound like much to you, but for me, it was amazing. My previous record for turning out a manuscript is three years. If I stay on track this year, I will have produced three manuscripts in three years. I like that accomplishment, but I can't say writing is as much fun as it used to be.

So maybe God just needs to give me a good kick in the pants and tell me to stop whining and being so lazy. Actually I am seeing a lot of myself in those whiny children of Israel as God drags them out of Egypt to the Promised Land, kicking and screaming the whole way. I'll tell you more about that soon.

When Perseverance Goes Bad

Is perseverance sometimes a bad thing?

Well, if you use the term “perseverance” correctly, maybe not. According to Dictionary.com, perseverance is “steady persistence in a course of action, a purpose, a state, etc., esp. in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.” Furthermore, the word is “regularly used in a favorable sense.” The idea, then, is that if you’re persevering toward some destination, you’re striving for something worthwhile.

But what if you’re mistaken?

I started thinking of some of the persistent souls I’ve seen on the news. People who dangle themselves in a glass box from a crane and see how long they can sit inside it, that sort of thing. Their only goals are getting attention and maybe ending up in a record book. So are they persevering—or just plain nuts?

I went to Guinness World Records online and did a search on the word “longest.” I came up with all sorts of interesting results. For example, Wesley Pemberton has the world’s longest leg hair. It measured five inches on August 10, 2007. (My mother’s birthday. Just think, while I was goofing off, partying with my family, Wesley was making history.) Maybe this isn’t a good illustration of perseverance, however. Wesley probably didn’t have much choice in how long his leg hair grew.

But then there’s the longest tattoo session, which “lasted for 43 hr 50 min, achieved by Stephen Grady and Melanie Grieveson.” Now, that required some endurance! Or questionable judgment. Perhaps both. Same goes for Bernie Baker, who at age 66 was the oldest known male stripper. Sure, he may have been persevering when other, younger male strippers were giving up. But the question is—why? Worthy goal? Probably not.

I’m bringing this up because I don’t want to be another Bernie Baker. I want my destination to be worthy and real, and I want to go about getting there the right way.

I'm on a journey this year, and I've decided to invite you all along. For a long time I hesitated to let you know about the fleece I'm laying before God this year, because I was afraid I would discourage you. But it's really not a discouraging journey.

Remember my verse for 2008: "Show me your intentions so I will understand you more fully and do exactly what you want me to do." As a part of praying that, I've asked God to show me things so clearly that I can do things differently next year. I believe he will either let something so encouraging happen with my writing that I will know I'm on the right track. Then I will stop torturing myself with doubts. Or he may show me it's okay to take some time off. He may give me a new direction for writing--or for living.

Wherever he takes me, it will be good. When you run a marathon, you have to pace yourself, and I'm excited to discover whether God's going to tell me to speed up and head for the finish, or slow down and enjoy the scenery.

I'll let you know how it goes.