Save Your Sanity, Authors!

Welcome to Elaine Stock, and congratulations on your recent writing award!

9 Ways to Crunch Time While Saving Sanity by Elaine Stock

In all honesty, this is a fairly wonderful time for me. I can say this without bragging because I’m praising God for His blessings. On top of Life 101 and the day job, I’ve just won a national writing award and am trying to share the news, I’m about to launch my next novel, Christmas Love Year Round, and after a 30-year wait, I’m ecstatic to say that my kitchen is getting remodeled (which means, of course, I’m living with packed boxes all over the living room and no longer have any kitchen counters or cabinets until the new ones are up—and this is the way of life 2 weeks ahead of time because the floor has to be refinished). Lots of craziness, but I’m rejoicing. As one who has seen one too many upheavals through the years that I’d rather not have seen, and who knows what awaits ahead, I’m enjoying these good but chaotic days. Each day I awake and remind myself that I’m in God’s hands. It will all be okay for me.

It will all be okay for you.

Here are some tips I’m sharing to save your sanity:

1)Praise God. Whisper. Say thank you, Father, out loud. Think silently while others are talking to you. Say in prayer as you drift to sleep…while you shower…while you inhale your first mug of coffee. God has the world in control, and yep, that includes you. You are His beloved daughter or son. He doesn’t want you to suffer.

2)Befriend Your Constant Companion. As a continuation of #1, realize and accept that God is not only your Heavenly Father, but also your friend. Your companion. He is with you 24/7. It helps to make life less scary and overwhelming.

3)Consolidate Errands and Chores.  Map out your weekly strategy ahead of time and consolidate time and days. Sure, it may mean you might have to leave for work on the earlier side or arrive home later, but try to run errands on 1 or 2 days rather than 5 or more a week. Trust me—it’s a nice sense of breathing room when you have an extra 30 minutes to yourself here and there.

4)Use Daydreaming Creatively. When did I come up with this blog post? While at the day job yesterday! #ThankfulForBoringWork. You may want to reconsider if you’re a brain surgeon, childcare worker or…you get the picture, I’m sure. However, even if your work or personal demands are more attention-oriented than mine, there must be some downtime, like breaks, that you can constructively ponder away book scenes, uncooperative characters, or writing the next blog post.

 

5)Allow Off-days and Off-moods. Face it, sometimes it’s just plain okay to stress or be moody. Actually, get it out of your system and then quickly move on. This happened to me a few days ago when I woke up and things just felt off-kilter no matter what I did or thought. It happens. This time though, with everything going on, I remembered the above #1 and #2 and sure enough this mood passed rather quickly and I got back into the proverbial swing of things.

6)Ask for Help. What is it about us humans that we tend to be reluctant to ask for help? I may have asked for how-to help before my novels were published, but it wasn’t until my 3rdbook was released did I start a Street Team. These ladies have blessed me with their time, support, and most importantly, their friendship. Another thing I’ve been late in doing (albeit, I admit I don’t participate enough due to time constraints) is joining a few select Facebook groups to see and to share what others know.

7)Accept that You Can’t do it All. This is a hard one for me, mainly because I want to do it all. I’m like a child with one toy who wants more. Creativity gives me a happy buzz! Yet, financial restraints dictate my limited time; writing desires dictates my social media involvement. It’s a matter of…

8)Prioritizing. Yep, you saw that one coming didn’t you? Daily, prioritize. Family. The day-job. Friends. Obligations. Commitments. Vacations. Kitchen-remodeling. Ah… it’s back to #7. Speaking for myself, I’m slowly but surely realizing that I cannot do it all. And this brings me right back to…

9)Praise God. Thank you Father, that my life is in Your awesome hands. You can handle it. You want to handle it. And I surely cannot.

 

Elaine Stock is the author of the novels Her Good Girl, winner of the 2018 American Fiction Awards in the Christian Inspirational category,andAlways With You, which won the 2017 Christian Small Publishers Association Book of the Year Award in fiction. And You Came Along, a novella, released in December 2017. Her novels fuse romance, family drama and faith in a clean fiction style. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Romance Writers of America, and Women’s Fiction Writers Association. In addition to Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads, she hangs out on her active blog, Everyone’s Story, dedicated to uplifting and encouraging all readers through the power of story and hope.

Born in Brooklyn, NY, Elaine has now been living in upstate, rural New York with her husband for more years than her stint as a NYC gal. She enjoys long walks down country roads, visiting New England towns, and of course, a good book.

You may connect with Elaine here:

Website:http://elainestock.com

Everyone’s Story blog: http://elainestock.com/blog

Twitter:http://www.twitter.com/ElaineStock

Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/AuthorElaineStock

Goodreads:http://goodreads.com/ElaineStock

And here’s a summary of Elaine’s latest release, Christmas Love Year Round:

Cami Richardsonis good at chasing away the men in her life:first Gavin Kinkaid, a former classmate she’d helped to bully, and later, her husband who left her widowed and a single mom. Now all she wants is to bring a smile back to her eight-year-old son. What she doesn’t expect is for Gavin to become her new neighbor.

Gavin wants to settle down after serving in the Air Force and mend the separation between him and his dad. What he didn’t count on is his changing feelings when he sees Cami as a kind woman instead of his former adversary.

When Cami’s son blindsides them both during the Christmas season, is their reunion at risk or will it grow stronger?

 

The Awful Business That Goes On…

Believe me when I say that laughter up at the front lines is a very precious thing—precious to those grand guys who are giving and taking the awful business that goes on there. . . . There’s a lump the size of Grant’s Tomb in your throat when they come up to you and shake your hand and mumble “Thanks.” Imagine those guys thanking me! Look what they’re doin’ for me. And for you.—Bob Hope, 1944

This week marks no patriotic holiday, but I don’t think it hurts to once again say thanks to the men and women who earned Bob Hope’s admiration. He knew the difference between the adulation of stardom and the devotion of giving one’s life for one’s country.

But reading his history of entertaining the troops all over the world in several wars reminds us of his bravery too. He and other entertainers risked life and limb going to places fraught with danger. Wonder how many of our modern “stars” would be so courageous.

 Bob Hope with troops near D-Day, 1944

Back in the forties, a long list of actors and actresses, singers, and sports stars not only entertained the troops, but served in the military…Jimmy Stewart, Charlton Heston, Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Glenn Miller, and Joe DiMaggio, to name a few. Picture Charlton Heston as a REAL aerial gunner and radio operator.

These professionals joined in “the awful business” that defeated Naziism and liberated hundreds of thousands of people–and it was a horrible process.

So what is my point? Just a general thank-you for what all of these “Greatest Generation” folks sacrificed, since I’m deep in WWII research right now. Gratitude is the key word here, since I’m deep in research right now, learning more about the battles in North Africa, Sicily, Italy, and Southern France–campaigns that led to a costly Allied victory.

Because of thousands of unselfish acts, we can enjoy life today. Including photography, and  voila! Your weekly view from our little corner of Iowa. (Hummingbirds do actually sit still once in a while!)

Kindred Spirits

Last week I had lunch with another author, and we exchanged horror stories from writing conferences where we presented our proposals to an editor or agent. Marie told me how she burst into tears right in the VIP’s presence when they made a critical comment…not once, but twice.

Of course, this was years ago, when we were just beginning to believe in our work–and boy, could I ever identify. Once, an editor looked over what I had prepared to win her heart to my heroine’s saga. She sat back and said, “I don’t see any story here.”

For once, I found myself speechless.

Many of us write in obscurity and relative isolation, as do artists in other fields. We get so glued to our WIP (work in progress) that it seems more real than the actual physical world around us. Then to face rejection of what we’ve poured our hearts and souls into…it’s pretty tough.

Because I’m writing about the very real, TRULY tough world of war, I can’t feel sorry for myself for long, though. But it does help to have some camaraderie, someone who understands you’re just coming up for air when you appear out in public. Your pulse may still be racing from what happened in an LCI (Landing Craft Infantry) like this, just off the coast of Sicily in 1943.

It’s a writer’s life–it is what it is, but I’ve learned how much we need each other. I’m grateful for how easy it is to reach out to another writer these days…just type a quick e-mail and write, HELP!

Today, I’m not even going to try tying in Lance’s great photo with what I’m writing. I’m constantly making connections, integrating this into that…This time, I’ll let you draw your own conclusions, but add a hearty, “Thank you, Marie, for taking the time to meet me for lunch!”

August activities, and…comparing

My FB page report for the week says activity is up by 1,450 percent. That sounds great. The trouble is, I have no idea why.

I traveled to Ames this week to meet potential students for my September OLLIE memoir writing class, and had fun chatting with some writers. Ahh…my favorite folks–looking forward to getting to know them and their stories better in a few weeks!

Friday night we saw “Annie” performed by Cedar Summer Stock. All of their 2018 performances featured incredible voices, choreography, costumes, and scenery…what more could anyone ask? Watch for them next summer.

On Saturday, we went to a cousin’s house for a family picnic. Oh my, what a spread. My gluten-sugar-lactose free offering turned out fine, but compared to the other great fare, well…actually, another one of our granddaughter’s quotes says it best: Comparison is the THIEF of joy. 

So there you go–why compare? And that brings me to flowers: observe.

Specimen one, an amazing geranium.

Specimen two, Gerber daisies in full spread.

And last, but not least, this year’s spectacular yellow begonias. I can’t get over how from delicate pale yellow clamshells (lower right), such incredible blossoms emerge.

So what’s to compare, right? Three lovely floral beauties, each with so much to offer. Yet, we compare things…and people… constantly.

Merriam-Webster defines compare as to examine the character or qualities of especially in order to discover resemblances or differences or to view in relation to.

I’ve been comparing the manuscript I’m working on with its predecessors. Why would I do this? Maybe because this story  has given me lots of challenges from the get-go. The research  leads me deeper into comprehending the vast effects of World War II…but how can I possibly do this topic justice? Does comparing help? Not so much.

I’ve grown as a writer since the last one, so maybe I expected the process to be easier this time. Yes, maybe that’s it.

Yet this is a whole different flower. Yes, it’s that THIEF at it again! Just get back to this story unfolding right now. Forget about the others…seize the joys and frustrations of this one.

It’s healthy to have little self-chats like this from time to time, don’t you think?

EMBRACING LIFE!

An author I’ve come to know online recently shared this thought as something that’s helped her through life.

She shared this with an authors’ group, and I wrote her to ask if I could use it in my workshops and elsewhere. In addition, I asked Leta to describe how this became her philosophy. Here’s what she said:

“There’s a saying (unfortunately not mine) good judgment comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgment. That has certainly been a truism in my life, especially the younger years. For too long, I met difficulty with the wail – Why me, God? Finally I found the answer. ‘Because I want you to grow and mature into a spiritual adult, my child.’ Leta McCurry – 84 years a student in the classroom of life.”

What can I add to this profound perspective? Nothing I can write will improve on Leta’s summary, so I’ll let it stand “as is.” This is the same way we learn to accept with a grateful heart what we cannot change, and to accept ourselves in the midst of that process.

I’m sure Leta would appreciate you stopping by her blog and connecting with her.

https://www.letamccurry.com/down-a-dirt-road

And here are some photos of midsummer in the heart of Iowa. With thanks to Lance… (Practicing gratitude reveals the beauty all around us…) Enjoy!

 

 

Impatiens, granddaughters, and a budding story…

This summer, we’ve been relishing the double impatiens adorning our front step–our granddaughter picked them out on a spring trip to the garden shop and decided these white buckets sitting in our shed could hang from the stair rails. She was right. (I can’t get this photo to turn around…but you get the idea.)

 

What great taste! Sweeping the steps this morning, I noticed this small white bud, fallen before its time.

Such promise here…multi-layered petals packed safely away in one succinct package. With time, water, and sunshine, this would’ve been one of the faintly pink blossoms that stop us mid-flight to take another look.

At the same time, I’ve been stuck in my writing, unable to settle into telling an incredible woman’s story. Perhaps it’s because she’s a real WWII nurse who made an incredible difference in so many soldiers’ lives. Until now, my characters have all come into being through what we call the muse. 

But this woman actually suffered through more battles than I could have imagined. So tenacious and stalwart…how can I possibly do her memory justice?

Whatever the reason, I’ve been struggling. But yesterday, our granddaughter shared a quote with me that has me rethinking things:

If the plan doesn’t work, change the plan, but never the goal.

Maybe for this particular novel, I must break free from my usual method. Maybe I need to learn a new process.

And maybe I will!

 

 

Obviating 101

Here’s more than you ever wanted to know about one particular verb and its synonyms:

       Obviate derives from the Latin obviare (“to meet or withstand”) and the Latin obviam (“in the way”) and is the origin of our adjective obvious. Obviate has a number of English synonyms, including prevent, preclude, and avert; all of these can mean “to hinder or stop something.” When you prevent or preclude, you put up an insurmountable obstacle. Preclude often implies a degree of chance involved in halting an event. Obviate generally suggests using intelligence or forethought to ward off trouble. Avert implies a bad situation prevented or deflected by effective means.

Midsummer finds us obviating all over the place. Example: our tomato plants, hit by last week’s storm, are now ready for the next one, having been grounded with
reliable (we hope) metal anchors.

Lance also spent a sweaty hour fixing an eave spout about the garage door, so it now drains into a suitable spot.

 

Mundane, everyday actions, but they obviate disasters. Okay, minor disasters. (: Reflecting on many of my actions throughout life as child, wife, mother, and friend, obviation often played a role.

Of course, we can’t avert every undesired occurrence. But this doesn’t stop us from trying. Later in life, we learn these events might have happened to make us–or somebody else–stronger. Oh, the joys of hindsight…

On these slow summer days, I ponder obviation in relation to my novels. What experiences have developed my characters’ strength, self-discipline and motivation?

Most likely tough ones that tested their endurance more than they care to recall. Yep. Just today, my morning teabag presented an applicable quote: Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go. T.S. Eliot

      What a freeing concept–wish I’d embraced it long ago.  

The heroines in my own reading take risks…big ones, and so do those in my writing.  Maybe that’s why WWII folks attract me so much, eh?

The Dog Days

Learned something new today: the Latin word canicular, meaning “small dog”, originates in Canis, from which we get our word canine.

Sirius, the star that represents the hunter Orion’s hound in the constellation, was also called Canicula. Because we first see Sirius rise during summer, the hot sultry days from early July to early September came to be called dies caniculares, i.e. “the dog days.”

Isn’t it fun to discover all the ins and outs of our vocabulary? All of what I’ve written so far is to introduce more photos from our England trip. The first, from Bletchley Park, shows some women dishing up corned beef hash. They offered tastes, and sent the recipe home with all comers.

Note the authentic 40’s clothing, enamelware, and head gear. Now, picture British women like these sweating over a hot stove in a cramped flat with no air conditioning, not even a fan. In one of England’s industrial cities, with bombs being dropped night after night.

The hash wasn’t bad…exactly. Just very bland, but spices were hard to come by. That’s why the black market managed such a thriving business, despite severe reprisals if the seller were caught in the act.

Here are some items he (or she) would carry…I personally would have a TOUGH TIME if tea were rationed, and know some people who might be highly tempted to go black market for precious coffee!

The oppressive heat of dog days makes many of us crabby, but we can find a cool place to spell us through the worst. The citizens of England could not, but they KEPT CALM and CARRIED ON. And can you imagine how relieved they were when one by one, items became unrationed? Keep in mind, this took years AFTER the war…my hat is off to all who toughed it out!

As July Fourth Nears…

Summer is a-bustin’ out all over.

A father cardinal stays mighty close to his fledglings in their nest just outside our back door.

Yes, and flowers display their fragile glory everywhere we look:

And here come the begonias near our front porch–wish you could all come and sip a cup of tea out there.

Now, take a look at our granddaughter’s team last week, the night they won their sixth grade softball championship. One of those magical moments filled with gratitude. I’ll cherish these smiles marking the GOOD KIND of pride for years to come! (Can you tell which one she is?)

Last but not least, I’m still basking in memories of our trip to England, often recalling Winston Churchill’s grit in an almost impossible position. I know, I know, you may be getting sick of me mentioning him…can’t help it, though. I’m SO SO very grateful for how he played his role in history.

 

A happy Fourth of July to you, and a little publishing news. I submitted a new manuscript to a publisher last week, something from World War II, of course, but a little different…it’s Glenora Carson’s story: she was one of the women who got their hands greasy during the war years doing a man’s job. More to come on this novella, with the title Kiss Me Once Again.

Also, I submitted my next novel to an agent. You just never know what might happen …never a dull moment, though.

 

Independence of Thought

My husband spent considerable quality time with our Independence Day author in Iraq and elsewhere…I hope you enjoy what Colonel Piontkowski, whose writing incites both laughter and thought, has to share. Note how he transports us instantly into a situation. (:
RAMBLING ON INDEPENDENCE IN THOUGHT
I didn’t realize what was happening until he held the sharp, straight edged razor up and smiled. It was supposed to be a simple haircut, but then I’ve never been in a Barber Shop in Baghdad, Iraq before. The young Iraqi gentlemen asked me how I wanted the hair.
You who’ve enjoyed the military know the style; short on the sides, very little on top. The next question seemed innocent enough, “Do you want the sides shaved?”
Before I could think about it, my mouth said yes. As he stood there smiling, razor in hand, my brain kicked in, “This is an Iraqi holding a sharp razor with nothing between it and my American throat but fear, panic and the sudden need to go to the latrine (restroom).”
As he began shaving the sides of my head I frantically scanned around for any Christian symbol, but seeing none I tried to slowly and calmly remember the Act of Contrition. That finished, small talk seemed the thing to do and something that could, potentially, save my life.
I mentioned what a generous tipper I was to barbers (who let me live). He looked confused when I mentioned what a wonderful god Allah is. He seemed somewhat surprised when I told him that if I ever had a son, I would name him Mohammed.
“Yessirree! I’d do anything to help the Iraqi people (especially the ones with razors near my cranium).” After he finished with the cut, shave and obligatory shoulder massage (another story) he smiled and thanked me for being so calm and quiet in the chair. I tipped him well and left before he saw the puddle where I’d been sitting.
Bigotry and prejudice come in many forms; I’m not proud of the implied mistrust of a stranger with a certain nationality and religion in the foregoing story. With Independence Day approaching, it’s good to engage in a little prepositional pondering.
We are blessed with the freedom of worship, freedom of speech and freedom of the press, among others. There are also “freedoms from.” We should be free from prejudice, bigotry and hatred.
To be free from judging people merely on their racial, religious or national heritage is to live a life of true liberty and peace. (Forgive me, but I still refuse to trust ANYONE with a razor near my throat.)
You’ll enjoy reading our guest’s biography as much as his article, and can find plenty of similar treasures at his blog: https://frrichardsramblings.com
 
As you can see…maybe he doesn’t shave at all now? (:

Rev. Richard L. Piontkowski, Jr. and his twin sister Carol were born in Knoxville TN where his father attended the University of Tennessee. He was born three minutes after his sister, which was fortunate as her umbilical cord was around his neck; nothing has changed in 60+ years.

He grew up in North Platte NE where his only experience of public education was kindergarten where he was slapped for talking and listened to a Bible story in class every day. His remaining life was in Catholic schools and universities where he was also slapped and learned more Scripture. He was ordained a Roman Catholic priest for the Diocese of Grand Island NE in 1982 and eventually earned a Master of Divinity, Licentiates (Masters) in Sacred Theology and Canon Law before successfully defending his doctoral dissertation in Canon Law from the Pontifical University of St. Thomas Aquinas in Rome, Italy. After finishing school he was forced to get a real job with real people in a real parish.

Fr. Richard joined the Army Reserve in 1989, served one tour in Iraq and retired as a Colonel after 27 years in the Army Reserve. During his tour in Iraq he began writing for his parish bulletin, St. Mary’s Cathedral in Grand Island NE, a weekly column entitled “The Rector’s Ramblings.” After returning home he continued to write the Ramblings. After switching pastorates and leaving Cathedral many people asked that he continue to write, which is now “Fr. Richard’s Ramblings.”

He currently lives in Loup City and Ravenna NE where he is the pastor of five Catholic parishes, including Ashton, Hazard and Pleasanton. Fr. Richard lives with his two silky terriers of twelve years, Bert and Ernie. Father had hopes of one of them following in his steps and becoming a priest but neither practiced celibacy or obedience.

Fr. Richard is a voracious reader of anything in print, and enjoys good scotch and bad golf. For him, rural Nebraska is a slice of heaven.