Curiosity about life in all of its aspects, I think, is still the secret of great creative people.
– Leo Burnett

When Cathleen Falsani, online editor of Sojourners magazine, recently asked me to add my thoughts to the blog's ongoing series of posts that address the question "What is an Evangelical?", I was a bit...um...flummoxed. That the word is so often used as a synonym for "fundamentalist" and, to put it mildly, that it isn't one of my all-time favorite words added to my dismay. In the end, I surveyed several of my friends about their relationship with the "e" word and was fascinated by their responses. Some that I would have thought identify as "evangelical" bristled at the word. Others whom I assumed would want as much distance from the word as possible, actually embrace it.

So - see this little doodled slideshow that the bright folks at Sojourners made of the report I sent to them.

This past weekend was the first ever Redbud Writers Guild retreat. On Friday night, members from all over the country congregated at the charming Margarita Inn in Evanston, IL. (One even flew in from Canada.) On Saturday, Redbud founders led writing and publishing workshops. Mine was on blogging and memoir-writing. We explored the key differences between blogposts and memoirs, how blogs can serve as resources when we sit down to write books, and why it's critical to shape the narrative "I" of the blog into the character "I" in memoir. We also talked about the dramatic structure of a memoir and how to give shape to our work so our readers will experience a satisfying beginning, middle, and end in our books. I truly feel a little giddy about seeing the work these writers will publish in the coming years.

P.S. If you've not visited it before, visit the blog on the Redbud site for posts about creativity and writing. (Scroll down past the thumbnails of our founders and members to read it.) 

When we engage in what we are naturally suited to do, our work takes on the quality of play
and it is play that stimulates creativity.
–  Linda Naiman

Over the past year, Amy Julia Becker has become one of the writers I most love to read. Happily, our paths keep crossing.  She and I are both contributors at her.meneutics, we both published books in 2011, and I had the privilege of speaking on a panel with Amy Julia and Margot Starbuck at Calvin College's Festival of Faith and Writing this year. Amy Julia is also a member of Redbud Writers Guild.

Last week, Amy Julia asked me to contribute a guest post to her blog. When we were at Calvin, I mentioned that my daughter Isabel has a close friend who has Down syndrome. As an advocate for people with special needs and the mother of a daughter with DS, Amy Julia is interested in friendships that grow between people with and without disabilities.

You can read the entire post here.

(And I should note, after Isabel read the published post this afternoon, she chastised me for my mistakes: I spelled Genna's name incorrectly and her drama class isn't rehearsing "Into the Woods," but another play. They had merely watched part of "Into the Woods" in class. Mea culpa.)

The kind folks at Worthy Publishing have given me two (digital) copies of the audio version of MOMumental to share with you as gifts for moms on Mother's Day.

If you are an audiobook-loving person who wants to hear MOMumental as read by the author (me), use the contact form on this page and tell me why you should win. Maybe it's because you drive to work and like listening to other people's embarrassing family stories on the highway. Maybe it's because your cable is out. Maybe...well...you tell me!

We'll pick winners before Mother's Day and email the links as Mother's Day gifts for your listening enjoyment.

(I sound so technie! #i'mnotreallytechie)

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Years ago when I lived in Brooklyn, as I describe in MOMumental, I was fortunate to cross paths and forge a friendship with Dr. Grace Freedman. Since my departure from Prospect Heights, we've kept in touch  (primarily via email), vacationed (many moons ago) together with our families, and in recent years have found that our work interests have dovetailed.

A few years ago, Grace founded an organization called eatdinner.org. On eatdinner.org, Grace and her colleagues answer the question of "why bother" making family dinners a priority.

From her blog:

"We have all heard that family dinner is good for us and our families, but in our busy lives, it can sometimes seem so hard to make it a routine. Time pressures, conflicting schedules, issues with food or conflicts at the table with your partner or children can also conspire against family dinners. It's not necessarily easy, but it is important."

At eatdinner.org, family dinners are demystified.  Do they have to be picture perfect feasts? (No!) On the site, parents can find information on how eating dinner together nourishes more than the bodies of our children - the practice has financial, emotional, and mental health implications, too.  (It's a great resource for parents of children of all ages - I highly recommend it to you.)

I've been honored to write for eatdinner.org in the past and today my Mother's Day post on some of the "ordinary pleasures" of family dinners goes up on the site.

An excerpt from my post:

I’ve recently become aware of another pleasure I derive related to feeding my family. It’s not – much as I love it – listening to the stories my children tell to describe their days, but it is played out in the half hour before we sit down to dinner. When children are very young, that period of time (also known as “the witching hour”) is possibly the most dreaded and dreadful part of a parent’s day, but when they are older, it can be a time to savor.

Read the entire post here.

As I write this, our new pitch-back (whom I've named Mitch) crouches in the backyard, waiting for one of my softball-playing daughters to wind up and let the ball fly. As they're at school, he has several hours to wait, but he doesn't seem to mind. Mitch is so lifelike somehow that this morning on running out into the yard, our dog Shiloh barked menacingly at him. Mitch wasn't intimidated.

I feel a little like Mitch lately - ready to catch whatever balls come flying at me. I've had a number of speaking engagements, a flurry of guest posts and articles to write, and other tasks related to the release of MOMumental (official release = tomorrow!) that have kept me on my toes.

I've also been on the receiving end of some wild pitches - misunderstandings and wrist-slappings, tricky issues with kids, and the usual May scrambling to keep up with end-of-school-year parties, teacher appreciation events, and orchestra concerts.

Mitch serves as a good example to me. He doesn't take it personally when he has to wait or when he's barked at. He doesn't lose his balance. He knows what his job is and, single-mindedly, keeps at it, one pitch at a time.

Oh to be more like Mitch.

Writing is making sense of life.
You work your whole life
and perhaps you've made sense of one small area.
- Nadine Gordimer

I had the privilege of contributing an essay to a new book of "reflections for moms on God's presence" called Always There.

I have to admit, there is one sentence in my piece (found in Chapter 2: God is with Us...in the Mundane) that makes me very happy. Regarding Jesus' call for us to "become like little children," I wrote "What in the name of Barney and Baby Bop could he mean?" (Is it so wrong that I make myself laugh sometimes?)

Even if you don't find me as funny as I do, the work of many accomplished writers is featured in the book - including Suanne Camfield, Ann Voskamp, Tracey Bianchi, Keri Wyatt Kent, Helen Lee, Caryn Rivadeneira, Karen Halvorsen Schreck, and Angie Weszley.

Revell, the publisher of the book, has kindly sent me a few copies to give away to readers of my blog.  If you'd like one, write me via my contact form with your address and a time when you decidedly have or have not felt God's presence as a mom. And let me know if your comment is one I can share with other readers.

May the odds be ever in your favor.

Spending a few days last week at Calvin College's Festival of Faith and Writing afforded me hours of hugely satisfying time to listen to great-minded people speak. 

A few highlights:

I loved hearing author Jana Riess discuss her new book, Flunking Sainthood (which, by the way, is terrific), but even more than her stories of writing that book, I appreciated her raw honesty about ways she felt disappointed with the book. She talked about the challenge, as a writer, of accepting that what we can actually write down on the page isn't as brilliant, captivating, or amusing as what we imagine we'll write. I also loved her reminder that easy reading is hard writing. Her book is easy reading - and beautifully crafted - but I empathize with reading certain sentences or sections of my work and thinking, "Really? You couldn't have done better there?" (As the engineer who recorded my narration of MOMumental can attest, I stopped myself a few times to grumble about having used the same verb twice in a paragraph or other gaffs.)

Speaking of grumbling, in their session on "The Art and Joy of the Lament," writers Susan E. Isaacs and Caryn D. Rivadeneira along with musician Gregg DeMey pointed out the importance of lamenting and gave some telling statistics, such as the fact that one third of the Psalms are laments. DeMey defined a lament as "telling the difficult truth to someone who loves you in hopes that something will change." (David did just that in the Psalms, addressing his God.) Isaacs told a story from her wonderful book Angry Conversations with God: A Snarky but Authentic Spiritual Memoir, a book I then ran off and bought. (Am reading it now - wonderfully funny and true, like Ms. Isaacs herself.) 

In our panel discussion, A.J. Becker, Margot Starbuck, and I answered questions about "the tricky bits" of writing memoir. If you were there, tell me what was your biggest takeaway from the session. 

Thursday night, Redbud Writers Guild hosted a reception for friends, colleagues, and publishing professionals. It was a full room, a fun few hours to connect with old and new friends, and I was proud to be a founder of this group.

Friday afternoon I gave my short, workshoppy presentation on memoir writing on the theme of finding strength (and material) in our weaknesses.  I so appreciated the energy and participation of the thirty or so people who braved the rain and distance across Calvin's (enormous) campus and spent an hour in the classroom with me. And their parenting fails confessions! A few involved botched clean-up efforts of their children's bodily fluids or fecal matter. Others talked about temper tantrums - their own, that is. (Don't you wish you'd been there?)

On Saturday, I heard Shane Claiborne speak. I had never read any of his work - other than one well-circulated article a few years ago that contains the following beautiful message:

"I want to invite you to consider that maybe the televangelists and street preachers are wrong — and that God really is love. Maybe the fruits of the Spirit really are beautiful things like peace, patience, kindness, joy, love, goodness, and not the ugly things that have come to characterize religion, or politics, for that matter." (Read entire article here.)

But I'd never heard his voice or learned much about the work to which he's committed his life. I found him, on Saturday morning, utterly charming, a truth-teller with joy so contagious that I can't' stop smiling whenever I remember hearing him speak. (Oh, and that The Price is Right story? Hilarious.) What lingers in me after hearing Claiborne are his stories, of course, but also his comment that the artist's job is to "provoke the possibilities of how we can re-imagine the world."

If you were at Calvin's FFW, what was your biggest takeaway? I'd love to hear it.

I'm full of anticipation about Calvin College's Festival of Faith and Writing. I've been dutifully crafting a (very short - please come - I promise it's super fast and there are prizes) talk for my lunchtime event on Friday (12:45-1:45 p.m.) and chatting with the gifted Margot Starbuck and Amy Julia Becker about our memoir panel that will take place on Thursday.

In MOMumental news, I'm happy that the book has been released on Amazon and will hit stores (and, purportedly Sam's Club) soon.

I had a lot of fun chatting with Wayne Shepherd about the book for the audio CDs. (Yay - bonus material!) Listen to the audio interview here.

If you're coming to Calvin, look me up.

Playwright Jean Anouilh wrote, “To say yes, you have to sweat and roll up your sleeves and plunge both hands into life up to the elbows.”

That sounds like family life to me, with all its challenges, perspiration, and promise.

Read the lastest issue of my newsletter - including news of the early release of MOMumental - here.

Today, I am participating in the "Best Thing Blog Hop," an event hosted by writer and blogger Ellen Painter Dollar.

Ellen writes,

"The blogosphere is a fast-paced place, and what bloggers write—even when it's good quality and receives positive responses—is quickly left behind, eclipsed by more recent content."

I am one of several bloggers participating in this event. Please visit Ellen's blog to see a list of other participants, with links to their "Best Thing" blog posts, and click through to read a few. Click here to learn more about the Blog Hop and read all of the participating bloggers' entries. (Some of my favorite writers are taking part.)

--

I chose a post I wrote almost two years ago for her.meneutics about negotiating popular culture - and specifically Lady Gaga's Telephone video - with my son. I like the post in part because it was my initiation into writing for that blog (I'm now a regular contributor) and despite some of the stunningly vitriolic comments that people posted after reading it, I am glad I had that conversation with my son. 

After he read the post - and the comments - my son said, "It's not like we lingered on every second of the video. You skimmed through and we kept stopping to talk."

He's a few weeks shy of sixteen now, and we still watch and critique music videos together.

Read my Gaga post here.

So...I don't pretend to understand the intricacies of Amazon's algorithms, but (perhaps due to a few new positive reviews or the fact that my new book is coming out soon) Love You More is currently on sale for about the price of a latte and a scone. (Or less, depending on whether you indulge at a donut shop or a fancy patisserie.)

Take advantage of the tasty deal here.

It's only a few weeks until the Calvin College Festival of Faith and Writing.

I must admit that, for years (at tidy, two-year intervals), I read about the festival, received Calvin's emails, and swooned at the thought of hearing Mary Karr, Wally Lamb, Katherine Paterson, Jane Yolen, Michael Chabon, and/or others talk about their work. But, alas, there were diapers to be changed or carpools to be driven (and so on) and I wasn't able to make the trip to Grand Rapids. 

Fast-forward a few years and now my kids are older - all in the double-digits. I've focused my energy as a writer on longer form work and have published two memoirs. And, much to my delight, I was asked last summer by writers I not only respect, but for whom I have great affection, to be on a panel with them at this year's festival. They are Amy Julia Becker and Margot Starbuck, in case you're wondering. (And yes, that's Margot's real last name. Pretty nifty, right?)

That panel is:

"Telling the Truth in Love: Three Memoirists Reflect Upon the Tricky Bits of Writing Memoir" on Thursday, April 19 from 4:30-5:30 p.m.

I'm also giving a lunchtime chat/book signing at Calvin about - among other things - clowning, shame, vulnerability, and humor in non-fiction. The little write-up I submitted to the festival reads:

Author Daisy Goodwin, chair of the judging panel for the celebrated international Orange prize for women’s fiction, complained last year that female authors “appear to have suffered a collective sense of humor failure.” Goodwin's remarks were widely criticized – and misunderstood. Her point wasn’t that women’s writing should be light and breezy, but that the “misery memoir” has its limits. Too many contemporary books by women writers, she stated, lack redemption and joy.

Perhaps among writers who are people of faith, literal salvation is a topic included in our work, but is there joy? Humor? Can we laugh at ourselves?

In her lunchtime presentation, writer Jennifer Grant will briefly share the way her own work has evolved from the literary, profound poems and short stories of her youth to creative – and yes, joyful – nonfiction, arguing that as writers and people of faith, we should be willing – at least sometimes - to take risks, lighten up, and make our readers laugh.

My remarks at the lunchtime session are evolving. Last weekend, at a dinner party with friends, my husband David and I learned about an acting exercise in which students "clowned" or exaggerated what they fear/worry are their most significant physical or other flaws. A large-chested woman, a person with bad acne, someone who is overweight - they all came onto the stage and exacerbated what makes them feel ashamed. And, somehow, they felt freed from that silent grasp of shame after acknowledging these flaws.

As my friend, an acting teacher, talked about the exercise, the shame these kids felt about their flaws and the freedom they found when they acknowledged and clowned them, I thought about parallels between that exercise and writing nonfiction.

In both Love You More and in MOMumental, I tell my own wince-worthy tales.

"You're so candid," people say.

Or, "I can't believe you actually admitted that!"

In a way, in my books, I've done a clowning exercise. I've named my faults and poked fun at myself.  And, in admitting how imperfect I am, I am freed from the pressure to do everything right. In naming the mistakes that can make a sense of shame wash over me, that shame is washed away, or diluted at least.

Oh, and back to Calvin - my writers group, of which I'm a co-founder, Redbud Writers Guild, is hosting a reception on Thursday night of the festival, at nine p.m. Come on by if you're attending the conference.

(from my most recent blog post on Good Reads:)

...I've begun reading contemplative writer Richard Rohr's book Falling Upward, read Erma Bombeck's Motherhood: The Second Oldest Profession, Arianna Huffington's On Becoming Fearless, and Patsy Rodenburg's The Right to Speak. In a terrible new year's/post book deadline funk, I took comfort - and was empowered by - Vinita Hampton Wright's Simple Acts of Moving Forward. I've also been enjoying the 2012 Pushcart Prize XXXVI Best of the Small Presses. I bought the big pink volume at the airport in December, coming home from a long sojourn to New York where I finished MOMumental.

So...I'm springing forward after reading an eclectic - and all quite excellent - array of books.

What is the best book you've read in this first quarter of the year?

Read entire post here.

Are warmer weather and longer days energizing you?  Feeling like Spring cleaning, emotionally or in your work life? Love this from Sarah Kathleen Peck's blog:

Kill something today. Cut it out. Drop it. Remove it. Make clarity in choosing, by saying No to the part you don’t want.  Say Yes to the things you want to keep. Do something.

“Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.” 

“Begin now.”

Read entire post here.

The time to begin writing an article is when you have finished it to your satisfaction. 
By that time you begin to clearly and logically
perceive what it is you really want to say. 
- Mark Twain

Something There is that Loves a Fence

On Replacing Fences and my New Official Policy on Reading, Editing, and Endorsing Other People’s Work

It’s become a recurring joke between a writer friend and me.

When we’re chatting back and forth via email messages and one of us notes that we’ve accepted a freelance job that doesn’t exactly tap into our core passions (but pays well) or fantasizes about the amount we’d like to be offered for our next book, we close the message with the hashtag: #mamaneedsanewfence.

Mama needs a new fence.

Those few words are useful to us not only because they convey something about drawing lines around our time and asking to be paid fairly for our work, but the #mamaneeds also is a way to acknowledge the banal reality that there truly are some things that only money can buy.

And, in my case, the statement is literally true: I do need a new fence.

At least a few decades old, the wooden fence that encloses my back yard is, to put it courteously, in disrepair. A few weeks ago, for instance, when the wind blew hard, I watched it dance like linens hanging from a clothesline. When the storm subsided, my husband David, as he always does at such moments, went out back and propped up the fence, using steel poles and two-by-fours.

In his poem Mending Wall, Robert Frost notes that before putting up a wall, a person should know what he is walling in and what he is walling out. I know the answer to both of those questions as regards our fence.

More than granting us privacy near a busy intersection, the fence keeps our dog, playground balls, and children safely ensconced. Along the back of David’s vegetable garden, the fence is where pole beans climb and grow every summer. When one of the kids misses the net in the corner of the yard, the soccer ball pounds the fence and bounces back to them. The fence keeps squirrels safely out of reach from my dog as they taunt and chitter at him. As David and I sit in the screened porch and watch our kids play whiffle ball or chase fireflies, the fence is the scene’s backdrop. It is a protection, a boundary line. In here, it promises, the family is together, and safe.

(See Mr. Frost, I’ve given it thought.)

But the wind has broken our fence’s back one too many times. The gates on either side of the house are wired shut. It leans uncomfortably into the flowerbeds and, despite the reinforcements, it bends and sways.

“It’s really time this time,” I told David after the latest storm. “We’ve got to replace it.”

“I know. I’ve already made some calls,” he said.

We’d been avoiding it because, after putting in fences in our previous two homes, we know it’s a major expense. And this yard is larger than the last two, perfect for soccer games and a big vegetable garden, but expensive to enclose. The parade of fence makers who have visited us for the past few weeks confirm that. One after another, we listen to their various tales of the superiority of steel-backed posts or wood treatments or decades-long guarantees. David nods and listens, masking his eagerness to sign a contract for a new fence as soon as is humanly possible. He has a garden to plant and the beans that are sprouting in the house soon will need a place to stretch and climb.

As I look forward to the new fence, other kinds of borders and boundaries are on my mind, ones relating to the hours of the day that I give to my writing and editing work. Beside my desk is a cardboard box of books that I’ve committed to read and evaluate for a literary contest. On the small table beside the window, a tall stack of books also waits to be read. Some of the books are authored by friends, and I’m itching to dive into them. Others have been sent to me by publicists or self-published authors; polite notes have been tucked into padded envelopes, asking that I read and help to promote them.

Others email their manuscripts, asking that I read them and offer endorsements. When I receive such requests from people I don’t know, a wave of dread washes over me. The trepidation that rises up in me is, in part, because I know that awkward dance well. I’ve been that person (and trust I will be again), the person crafting an email with as much confidence and breezy charm as I can muster as I request a writer or an expert of some sort to provide an endorsement of my work. At those times, I have felt like the least gifted act at a talent show, the person who trips while climbing the steps to deliver a speech, or the actor who forgets her lines on opening night. In short, I can hear that wincing, apologetic tone in the note from whoever has sent me their work. “Um, if you have time, it would really mean a lot if…” I also have some dread based on some of the work I’ve received. As a lover of language and story (and someone who is incredibly hard on my own work), I’m surprised by how little care some of these writers have given to their projects. 

Too often in the past, I’ve made the mistake of saying “yes.” Yes, I’ll read that proposal or that manuscript. I’ll write a blurb. I’ll do it!  I want to help others. I want to be open. I want to be generous with other writers in our too often lonely craft.

But, alas, there are only so many hours in a day when the house is quiet and I can read or write. Most days, there are exactly five and a half hours from the moment my youngest child leaves for school until my oldest returns. So, after too many instances of unwinding the wire and opening the broken gate and letting another piece of work into my little corner of the world with a big “yes” and regretting it (because I haven’t the time to devote to it, the writer hasn’t devoted the time to crafting his or her work, or a combination of the two), I’m building a new fence.

Here it is:

1. Endorsements

Following the lead of several other writers,

·      I cannot offer an endorsement for a book that hasn’t yet been sold to a publisher.

·      I cannot offer endorsements for self-published works, unless the writer has published other work with a traditional publisher.

·      I ask that you do not add my name to a list of “potential people who may endorse this book” in a book proposal without first asking me if you may do so. First, I’m not a “potential person” - sorry, trying to add a little levity here - but, second, being included in such a list implies that I know the work and stand behind it.

·      In the past, I’ve made new friends by endorsing their books. That is, someone has asked for an endo and I’ve read the book, fallen in love with the writing and, by extension, the author, and later, forged a real friendship with her. I’ve also failed to endorse books by people I know. In some cases, I haven’t had the time to read the book or I’ve lost the email that contains the deadline or I’ve just been in a swirl of crabbiness and didn’t do it. And just like I don’t hold it against people I know who haven’t sent an endorsement for one of my books, I hope others won’t hold my silence or failings against me. I've been extended grace about that very thing recently and have also let friends off the hook who said, "Sorry, I meant to but..."

2. Manuscript/Proposal Evaluation and Review:

·      I edit and evaluate work professionally and am paid to do it. (Yes, there are a few friends with whom I have a reciprocal relationship and whose work I will always joyfully agree to read and critique. These are writers I know well. We have similar vocabularies and standards for what we write. And we have that thick, scaly skin one develops when one has been publishing  her work for 15 or 20 years.)

·      If you want to enter into a business relationship and hire me to read and critique your work, we can talk about rates and expectations. Contact me and I can let you know whether I have time to commit to your project.  I’m a hopeful person, a seasoned editor, and love helping a writer make good work even better. (More precise, more engaging, more true.)

There.

Phew.

The fence is constructed. You see, I needed to create an effective boundary around the hours in a day.

Indeed, we all need to be wise as we wall some things in and some things out. Do you have any fences that need to be replaced in your life? What’s simply propped up and not able to withstand storms? Is the expense or the thought of change intimidating you?

I encourage you to take a deep breath and get hammering!

I'm not sure what "Google Play" is...but appreciated seeing this today. 

Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say.
It's the one and only thing you have to offer.
- Barbara Kingsolver

This was great fun to read.

A new study reports that:

Babies still too small to speak know how to make jokes and form friendships, say researchers at an Australian university who have spent two years filming the behaviour of young children.

The article goes on to describe the "secret lives of babies."

Read the whole article here.

Yes, Lent calls us to think great thoughts and to embrace great visions of faith, and we try to do that. But it’s a season for remembering small things too. A cup of cold water, a prisoner, someone sick visited, someone naked clothed, someone hungry fed, a word to the weary to rouse them. The law of God often comes down to small things, and the greatest in the kingdom of God are the best at that.
- Victor Hoagland

Enjoying the "Shtuff" Girls (Seminarians, Homeschoolers, Birds, Wookies...) Say meme?

Read my take on it, posted on the her.meneutics blog yesterday.

Dreading a(nother) long weekend with kids home from school and (if you live in the north) less than optimal weather? 

Get creative:

"When yet another three or four day weekend is looming, I get creative. Over the past several winters, I have thrown everything from elaborate Groundhog Day celebrations to birthday parties for J.R.R. Tolkien. I have commemorated Presidents’ Day with cherry pies (a nod to our first president) and old-fashioned games such as Dominos to show my children what games were played hundreds of years ago."

Read my article on Mom It Forward here.

_If there's a book you really want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it. 
- Toni Morrison

Thank you National Society of Newspaper Columnists (NSNC) for the shout out in this month's newsletter.  (I love the look of fellow NSNC members' new book My Funny Valentine, too.)

Excerpt from the February e-columnist:

"My Funny Valentine: America's Most Hilarious Writers Take on Love, Romance, and Other Complications is getting good reviews and should have good sales this month. It's a collection of stories, poems and other writings about Valentine's Day contributed by 40 authors. They include NSNC members Barb Best, John Boston, Eileen Mitchell, Jackie Papandrew, Sara Lee Perel, John Philipp, Dorothy Rosby, Lisa Tognola, Jim Shea, Dawn Weber and Ernie Witham.

Jennifer Grant's second book, MOMumental: Adventures in the Messy Art of Raising a Family, will be published in May by Worthy Publishing which describes it: "One mom's humorous and candid memoir shows would-be supermoms how to create a realistically balanced family life without losing their minds."

Find out more about the NSNC here.

(I'm proud to be a member.)

Highly recommend fellow Redbud Writer Karen Swallow Prior's engaging interview with L.L. Barkat, author of Rumors of Water: Thoughts on Creativity and Writing.

Read the interview here.

Compelling and true. Yes, I've been changed by the two memoirs I've written. Love You More, among other things, helped me face my doubts, fears, and failings as a parent by adoption and connected me in very rich ways with others. MOMumental, though it's not yet out (release date is May 8, 2012), also liberated me by letting me tell my secrets - mistakes I've made as a mother and my deepest insecurities as a parent. And, you know, once you name and acknowledge such things, you're freed (at least a bit) from their clutches. 

Last night my son shared an essay on memoir with me; the quote, above, is taken from it. His English teacher gave it to the class to help her high school sophomores understand the genre and why Americans love it.

Read the whole essay on "The Age of Memoir" here.

_Artistic temperament sometimes seems
a battleground, a dark angel of destruction
and a bright angel of creativity wrestling.
- Madeleine L'Engle

It is well to lie fallow for a while.
- Martin Fraquhar 

This January, I'm trying to "lie fallow," as much as life allows. 

I'm taking the dog on long walks in the park, sometimes in biting snow and cold. I'm staring at the birds - red-headed woodpeckers mostly - on the swaying feeder in my back yard. I'm watching the sky move from gray to pink to black in the afternoons and evenings. 

I'm not hosting dinner parties or making lunch dates or taking apart the linen closet to re-organize its shelves. I did those sorts of things in the week between Christmas and New Year's Day and was left spent by my own energy, industriousness, and anxiety.

Instead, I'm making fires, reading books that please me, rather than ones I am contracted to review, and thinking about poetry, about friendship, about loss. The year started with news of the death of a friend and ushered me into this melancholy place, a place that can feel - all in one day -  bleak, serene, true, satisfying, and lonely. 

It's been a long while since I've had this kind of fallow time. 

I trust, when I can, that under this cold ground, some life sleeps and will wake in its own time, in its own spring. 

Honored to be included on this list of top ten posts (chosen on basis of page views on Christianity Today's her.meneutics blog) for my post titled "Another Assault on Little Girls" on Vogue Paris's "Gifts" photo spread.

Read entire post here.

Today: the day starts with a scramble, after staying up too late watching "A Series of Unfortunate Events" with the kids, to get the six of us ready for a funeral. This morning, two of my children will serve as acolytes and my husband will sing in the choir. Over breakfast, we talk about the gravity of the day; it's three days before Christmas and we are off to stand in solidarity with a family at our church who just lost their beloved husband and father. 

The service is packed - every pew filled to bursting, people sitting in the library, standing in the back of the church, and some of us in Our Lady's chapel, facing the wrong direction, our eyes on the terrible, mysterious wood sculpture of Jesus' on the cross, but very much present with all of those in pews behind us, standing, and sitting on steps and in chairs in rooms near to the nave. 

The service includes two recollections given by the deceased man's friend and from a colleague. They are beautifully crafted, saturated in deep love and respect for the one who has died. There is a refrain in their words: The man whose death we mourn was ever grateful, joyful, and fair. He was a bright light. Our priest reminds us that someday the Scriptures we've read will make more sense to us, but for now many of us are simply numb. 

"We're lucky men," his close friend was reminded over and over by the friend whom he lost. Lucky men. 

After the internment of the remains in our columbarium, there is a reception in the parish hall.  We watch slides from this man's life. We pick at cheese cubes, sandwich triangles, and neat little clusters of grapes. We drink coffee. We sign the guest book. We embrace the widow and say what comes to mind (Me: "We're with you" - I couldn't think of anything else to say; her grief is unimaginable to me). We hug our friends, and we cry. These are the things we do to keep our minds and hands busy. We know nothing we can offer the family could begin to mitigate their grief.

On our way out of the church, my daughters and I return to the chapel and light candles in remembrance of the man who is now absent from our church community, from his friends, from his home. 

After the service, my family and I go out to lunch where my husband gives a little speech to the family. It's a rare occurrence for him to do so. He reminds us that he, too, knows himself to be a lucky man as husband and father to us. The waitress at the restaurant, after I explain my tears and the kids' distraction by saying that we were just at a funeral, gives us a box of cupcakes.  

"These are on us," she says. "You've had a hard day."

It's three days before Christmas and we are in the season of waiting, Advent. 

I long for those who grieve to be comforted.

I long for that family again, someday, to have joy.

I long for Advent to be over and for Christmas to be here.

But for now, I feel a part of a weary world. 

O holy night!

The stars are brightly shining
It is the night
Of the dear Savior's birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear'd and the soul felt His worth
A thrill of hope
The weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks
A new and glorious morn!
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh night when Christ was born
Oh night divine, oh night, oh night divine

Chains shall He break
For the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease
Sweet hymns of joy
In grateful chorus raise we
Let all within us praise His holy name
Christ is the Lord, let ever ever praise Thee
Noël, Noël
Oh night, Oh night divine
Noël, Noël
Oh night, Oh night divine
Noël, Noël
Oh, oh night, oh night divine.

During this Advent season as we celebrate the new relationship between God and his people, may that be mirrored in our renewed relationships with spouses, children, family and those near and dear to us. May we speak tenderly to each other amidst all the rush of the season and transform the shopping days till Christmas into the true Advent of Christ.
- Casely Essamuah, Park Street Church



Read the December issue of my newsletter, 
for Love You More and MOMumental news - 
and much more, here.

Get News! 

To keep informed of author events (Shh...I'll be at Calvin College's Festival of Faith and Writing in April 2012, as part of a panel on writing memoir), book news, and give-aways and blogging opportunities, sign up for my newsletter here. 

(Want to see what you've been missing? See earlier issues here.)  

Fine Print: Of course, I won't share, sell, or spam your email address.(I wouldn't do that!) Newsletters arrive monthly, except in the summer when I write a combined July/August issue whilst frolicking with my family, usually in the great state of Michigan. Apologies for the lack of a November 2011 issue - I failed even to try to write a newsletter last  month, but instead made my book deadline for MOMumental. (Hooray!) 

So, sign up already!        

Great piece on raising children (by Bryan Caplan, the "less fuss, more fun" parenting writer):

Focus on enjoying your journey with your child, instead of trying to control his destination. Accept that your child’s future depends mostly on him, not your sacrifices. Realize that the point of discipline is to make your kid treat the people around him decently—not to mold him into a better adult. (Read entire article here.)

I would maintain that thanks 
are the highest form of thought; and that 
gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.  
- G.K. Chesterton

So excited to see the final cover for my new book - MOMumental: Adventures in the Messy Art of Raising a Family.  

Given our purchasing history over the past 15 years - the cereal on the cover is quite apt.

MOMumental will be published in August 2012 by Worthy Publishing. 

Crushing poverty has shaped the perspectives and circumstances of their lives. Addressing the causes of poverty, Walker acknowledges, is a vital piece of ending sexual slavery. Investing in long-term development work is critical, as is the need to end the sex trade and rescue the children and young people who are abused and imprisoned today.
(Read full response to God in a Brothel on Sojourners' God's Politics blog here.)

I loved talking with Anita Lustrea and Melinda Schmidt on Midday Connection about adoption, the global orphan crisis and Love You More. 
(Listen to the interview here.)

Our lives, the women who have been Mia's other mothers and me, are tied to each other. We three have been braided together to create something new and stronger than we would have been on our own. We have been forever connected in love for one little girl.
(Read full article at Chicago Parent here.)

Blame it on whatever you’d like, but my family isn’t able to sit down and eat dinner together every night of the week. But, most nights, we manage to make it happen. The kids are given heaping bowls of Cheerios or Life cereal before they run off to sports or music lessons, but when we all return home, sweaty, tired, sometimes jangly and out of sorts after too long a day, we sit down to dinner together.
(Read full blog post here.)

These days, pediatricians provide more than medical knowledge. Along with discussing topics such as immunizations, nutrition and allergies, pediatricians could be called on to guide children and their parents on subjects ranging from bike helmets to bullies. As trusted, knowledgeable and neutral adults in children's lives, pediatricians are in a unique position to render advice on those and other matters.
(Read the entire Chicago Tribune article here.)

Jennifer: I don’t know that it’s the book I was born to write, but it certainly is the kind of book I longed to read when I started the adoption process. I wanted to hear about other families’ stories, about their doubts, missteps, successes as they welcomed children into the family by adoption.
I like that Toni Morrison quote – “It there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.”
(Read entire interview here.)

I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, 
what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear. 
-Joan Didion

Look at the word unbroken. 
An uncommon word that begins with a common prefix. Un- is so familiar that its meaning is rarely considered. Those two little letters just mean “not,” don’t they? (Read entire post here.)

Creativity is not the finding of a thing, 
but the making something out of it after it is found. 
- James Russell Lowell 

"As the manuscript moved toward that magic number of 65,000 words in the protective womb of my hard drive, I was preoccupied with its healthy development. Like a pregnant woman reading What to Expect books and making sure to swallow down her daily prenatal vitamins, I scoured whatever information I could on topics such as toddler adoption, the current state of adoption in Guatemala, and the plight of women like my daughter’s birthmother who choose to place their infants for adoption. I re-read old journal entries and emails I’d written during the adoption process. I talked to mothers who had adopted children with special needs." (Read entire post here.)

In the creative state a man is taken out of himself. 
He lets down as it were a bucket into his subconscious, and draws up something which is normally beyond his reach. He mixes this thing with his normal experiences and out of the mixture he makes a work of art.
- E.M. Forster

Some of my friends call them "writer crushes."  You know when you read a novel and you're filled with what can only be described as infatuation for the author? You fantasize about becoming her friend. You daydream about running into her at a bakery and sitting with her all day, drinking coffee, eating Madeleines, and discovering that you two were destined to be best friends. 

I developed a new writer crush this week on the blogger "Gluten Free Girl." Full disclosure: my family and I are anything but gluten free. (I hope that wouldn't stand in the way of our friendship.) In fact, this past week, I think we had (wheat flour) pasta in some form every single day. Tortellini soup on Monday. Pasta with pesto on Tuesday. Salmon marinara - made by a genius chef friend - over cavatappi on Wednesday. And so on.  And these were served with salads ("Croutons, please!") and loaves of crusty bread. So, all to say, we're hardly living the gluten free life around here. 

But when I began to read this blog post, I fell in love with the charming prose, the descriptions of New Orleans, and was even convinced that those grits with Velveeta (Velveeta!) would be delicious. But when I read the second part of the post in which she - in a beautiful, healthy, honest way - talks about the hurtful comments she has received on her blog, I was smitten.

I've written about my own set of "haters" elsewhere and in recent weeks, several of my friends who are professional writers have been badly bruised and battered by cruel words posted online in response to their work. 

One writer learned that her haters were organizing themselves and flooding her posts with negative, mean-spirited comments. She learned that after they posted, they "met" on one of the women's Facebook pages for virtual high fives. (The mean girls from junior high? Some of them are still with us, I'm sad to say.)

I'm making it a practice not to scour blogs or carefully read the reviews of Love You More. There are people, paid by the publisher, to do that. My babysitter-children's tutor-and sometime social media assistant chooses reviews to put up on this site.  I try to stay out of it as much as I can.

Still, some email messages and comments have made their ways to me. A few people have accused me of choosing the title Love You More to indicate that I love my daughter more than her birthmother does. (That would be simply awful and is an interpretation that never occurred to me.) 

Others say it was chosen to make clear that I love my adopted child more than my older three children, who came into the family the traditional way. (I read that one to all four of them; they laughed in such a delighted way that I realized I didn't need to give that another thought.)

Some Christians say the book is not Christian enough - or not at all Christian. Others say it's too religious. As a person who normally keeps details about her spiritual life private, receiving derisive comments about the way I articulated my faith in the book initially jarred me. 

And then there are the readers who are convinced that the book is a thinly-veiled "pro-abortion" manifesto. (Huh?)

One woman emailed me to say that she can't wait until my children - in whom, she pointed out, I obviously take so much pride and pleasure - grow older, become bitter teenagers, and hurt me emotionally. (Two are actually teenagers now, and I must admit, I continue to love them, more and more.)

Another suggests that readers keep a bucket nearby when they read my memoir, just in case they need to vomit. This writer admitted that she hadn't read the book, but still she just knew it was terrible.

I let these negative comments go. I know, as a friend said to me recently, that these comments rise from the fears, wounds, and limitations these people suffer. I can try to look with compassion on them, remind myself how fortunate I am to have published my book, and move on. And next time I get another "hater" email, I'll revisit my new friend Gluten Free Girl's blog and read that post.  I'll remind myself of what she learned from Brené Brown (What? You love her too?  Gluten Free Girl, we are meant to be friends!). 

Brown said, "“I know exactly why some people must hate your guts.”

“Why?”

“Because you are joyful,” she said immediately.

Let's be joyful. Let's tell the truth. Let's be respectful to each other. 

What a world that would be, no?

I'm (so very) happy to announce that I'm at work on my second book, to be published in summer 2012 by Worthy Publishing in Nashville. 

From the start, I've been head over heels in love with the team I've worked with at Thomas Nelson on Love You More so it's kind of like starting a new English class at the semester and hoping you like the teacher half as much as you liked the one who taught you Beowulf and Chaucer last term. 

The book will be another memoir, also on family, and will again plumb the anxiety, joy, and exhaustion faced by those of us who are involved in the vocation of parenthood. A friend emailed me today, expressing his thoughts on what it has felt like, so far, to be a father. He talked about the lack of role models he has - that he doesn't want to replicate the kind of family that was his as a child. He wants to do it right. 

When, like my friend and me, you grew up in a home that was disrupted by divorce, it can take a lot of courage and intention to believe that you can create a lasting, healthy marriage and raise kids well enough. 
You know you can't do either perfectly, but you take a deep breath every day and give it your best (except those times when you don't), batting away feelings of self-doubt. 

I love that quote "write the book you wish had been there for you." Love You More is that kind of book as it gives a peek behind the curtain and tells other parents by adoption what the process was like for me. My hope is that the new book will be similar: I'll take a deep breath and acknowledge loss, failure, and uncertainty while telling a story of one family - my own - and what it feels like to make it, enjoy it, and believe in it.

Love this (scrumptous) article by Lila Byock, from Salon.com. 

"Read between the lines of an old family recipe and you're liable to read the story of the family itself. The scrawled marginalia and cooking stains, the collective memory of shared feasts -- they might as well be alleles in the genome."


(Read entire article here.)

It is better to bind your children to you by a feeling of respect and by gentleness than by fear.
- Terence

Thank you Andrea Poe at the Washington Times for another excellent column on international adoption.

“The current system is damaging children.  A family is every child’s most basic human right. Our current system of adoption stands between kids joining families. At this march, we are coming together to make a statement that we must do a better job for millions of orphans around the world,” said Kelly Ensslin, a lawyer for several of the families.

(Read entire column here.)

I don’t wait for moods.
You accomplish nothing if you do that. 
Your mind must know it has got to
 get down to work. 
- Pearl S. Buck

Thank you ConceiveOnline for your coverage of Love You More.

"I like the poet Rilke’s advice: “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart. And try to love the questions themselves.” Adopting Mia was a time when I had to live in more uncertainty, with less control, and “in the questions” for long periods of time. And I had to choose to trust that God was in control of the situation."

(Read entire interview here.)

My most recent post on adoption.com.

Anything can be a name,” her friend says. I’m glad Molly hasn’t backed down.“That’s right,” I say. “Anything.”

The names of several celeb-u-tots pop into my head. Jermajesty. Audio Science. Tu Morrow. Pilot Inspektor. Um, yes, those are all real given names. I must admit, though, I’ve always been fond of Moxie Crimefighter,the name Penn Jillette and his wife gave their daughter. I find it appealing, and empowering somehow. I make a mental note to remind my daughter to be more diplomatic in the future. This will be especially important if she ever moves to Beverly Hills.

(Read entire post here.)

In my inbox this morning, a number of forwarded messages from friends reading: 

Jennifer Grant's Love You More: The Divine Surprise of Adopting My Daughter:

• Previous estimated arrival date: August 15 2011 - August 19 2011
• New estimated arrival date: July 25 2011 - July 26 2011

It's almost here! I can't wait to see a finished book. (To order a copy, click here.)

Love Trina Pockett's "Brown Eyed Girl" post. 

"I used to be just like her. I saw life as an adventure, full of opportunities. I didn’t even stop the to think about how I didn’t measure up. I didn’t have the time. I was a bit of a tomboy when I was a kid. I loved to explore, to push the envelope. This was before the days of video games and cable television. I spent my afternoons playing baseball in the cul-de-sac, or following the boys on my banana seat bike. I ran for no reason and chased the wind at every opportunity. Life was beautiful."

(Read entire post here.)

Everything in life is writable
if you have the outgoing guts to do it, 
and the imagination to improvise.
 The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt. 
- Sylvia Plath

I like this post by David B. Coe on writing (and not writing) and "keeping it fresh":

"...sometimes you do need a change of pace.  Sometimes the best thing you can do for your novel is to NOT write it for a day, or a week, or even a couple of weeks.  Change things up a little.  Write a short story.  Outline the next thing you want to write.  Or don’t write at all.  Instead, do something nice for yourself or spend the day with a friend, your kid, your spouse."

(Read entire post here.)

Don't try to figure out what other people want to hear 
from you; figure out what you have to say. 
It's the one and only thing you have to offer.
- Barbara Kingsolver

What you never knew about Obama's Mama - until Janny Scott discovered her - my latest post on Her.meneutics.

In Scott’s book, striking descriptions of Honolulu where “jagged volcanic ridges parade against the sky like dinosaurs’ backbones” or of Indonesian snacks of “sticky black rice sprinkled with coconut” might fill you with the kind of wanderlust that contributed to Dunham’s life as an expatriate. But that travel came at a price both for Dunham and her children. 

(Read entire post here.)

My latest post on adoption.com on transracial parenting:

“Teaching girls that their appearance is the first thing you notice tells them that looks are more important than anything,” Bloom writes. In her bookThink: Straight Talk for Women to Stay Smart in a Dumbed-Down World, she links the way we speak to little girls with the fact that “American women are increasingly unhappy.”
...
When I read Bloom’s Huffington Post piece, I remembered that babysitter from long ago. She signified to my older daughter that she was likeable and worthy of affection because she was cute. And to my Mia, she made it plain that when she looked at her, all she saw was difference. I didn’t like either reaction so, before the week was up, I let her go.

(Read entire post here.)

Don Fry's presentations at the NSNC conference in Detroit last weekend were filled with some of the most helpful (and life-giving) information I've ever heard about writing. 

"Some of the methods writers assume they must use actually hurt them: make them slow, damage their confidence, and make them inaccurate. I once coached a star writer who believed she had to have a perfect, fabulous first paragraph (the lead) before she could write anything else. She would type a lead, weep, erase it, weep, type a new lead, weep, etc. for about a month before something appeared on her screen she could live with. I showed her that she needed a perfect lead at the end of the typing, not at the beginning."

(Read Fry's entire post here.)

Funky folk art street,
post-industrial Detroit --
farmer checks his crops.

- J.G., 6/27/11 

(To learn about The Heidelberg Project in Detroit, click here.)

Just read my colleague, friend, and fellow Redbud Founder Arloa Sutter's post, "Irving's Ice Cream," on our blog. (Read entire post here.)
 
"The next day Irving was banging on my door. “Here, take these,” he growled as he handed over the ice cream, “they make me want to have them all the time.”
...
What am I willing to sacrifice to advance my life’s calling? What’s your mission? Is ice cream getting in the way?"

Read more about Irving and about Arloa's vision of "laying down our lives for others" in her inspiring new book, "The Invisible." 

Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish. 
- John Jakes

My summer goal - slashing and burning through unnecessary clutter in my life, most of which resides on my laptop in the form of old messages, bookmarked articles to read, and so on. Love this post on "handling digital clutter" by Donald Miller. He deleted his Facebook account to free up more time to write and think. Hm...

(Read entire post here.) 

In honor of Father's Day, Ian Morgan Cron's "...the Promises We Make"

(Read entire post here.)

"I turned 50 this year and my thoughts about fatherhood have changed. Fatherhood isn’t about living up to the Atticus Finch Gold Standard anymore. Fatherhood is remembering the promise I whispered to God and myself in a delivery room as I watched each of my three children come into the world, the promise that I would love them and their mother with everything I had, and as Atticus said, 'see it through no matter what.'"

(BTW, Congratulations to Ian on the publication of his new memoir - "of sorts" - and that it has been chosen as a featured title in the Barnes and Noble "Discover Great New Writers" program!)

Adam S. McHugh's "The Phases of Writing" 

(Read entire post here.)

"I once heard a writer say that her writing process involves letting her ideas drip down from her mind through her arms and into her fingers. What a beautiful image, I thought to myself, and what a total load of crap. Writing a book is like giving birth to a snarling 8 headed monster. It’s a war, and your mind, arms, and fingers all hate each other."

(Well said A.S.M. and what a pitch-perfect ending: "...and I carry it trusting that God has put it there for a reason.)

If you've purchased Love You More or MOMumental at a local or online bookstore and would like a signed bookplate, use the contact form below and provide us with your address and the person for whom you'd like the book signed. (Ex: "Happy Birthday Wilma from Betty.") We'll mail you a bookplate to include with your gift.