Maureen Lang's Blog, page 16

One of the things people have in common, no matter their faith or culture, is an interest in things yet to come. Every generation has its prophets and seers, mainly because of the old supply and demand theory: if someone wants to hear (and pay) for a glimpse into the future, there will always be someone else trying to figure out a way to answer such a demand.

Perhaps not surprisingly, based on the way our culture only reports bad news, most of the prophecies over the years have been catastrophic. Everything from rather routine predictions for Armageddon to comets hitting earth to space aliens coming for a select few and the only way to meet the space ship is via suicide (ala Heavens Gate cult).

As one of my pastor's at church reminded us on New Year's Day, this year is no exception for doomsday predictions. The newest is, of course, the end of time as predicted by the centuries-old Mayan calendar, which some believe ends on December 21st of this year. I don't know much about the Mayan calendars, but I did read that time doesn't actually end on that day. The Mayans simply didn't use enough digits in their original computation. Evidently on December 21st the numbers, like on a car odometer when it turns 999,999, the numbers would flip back to zero and time—and the calendar—will simply go on. Remember Y2K when we all thought the world would descend into chaos because computers wouldn't recognize anything beyond two digits to keep track of the year? (Not Macs, just PCs.)

Then there is the Planet X scenario, with a previously unknown planet set to hit earth some time this  year. Or sun flares that would be catastrophic to our atmosphere. Or a sudden switch in earth's magnetic fields.

Being married to a Physics teacher, not many of these predictions pass the giggle test. Amazingly, despite widespread access to reliable scientists, people still walk around with fears that science could easily dismiss. There is no possible chance a planet could be out there close enough to hit us that scientists wouldn't know about; the sun has been burning for five billion years, will burn for another five billion and is currently in its most stable phase. And while the magnetic fields have switched in the past, it happens every half million years or so and we might be due for another in the next few thousand years. In any case, it's not a sudden switch and involves a fading in and out that scientists continually monitor.

The Bible does predict the end of this earth as we know it, but it doesn't give an hour for such a thing to occur. There's obviously a reason for that: God wants us to trust Him not only with the little stuff, but with the big stuff as well. He doesn't want us to stop serving the Kingdom by being fooled that the end is near.

I rarely make New Year's Resolutions, so all I'll say is to keep moving forward with your eyes on Heaven!

And Happy New Year!

The day after Christmas has always been a little bit sad. After all, the anticipation part of the big day is over. Only New Year's to look forward to, and for a non-partier like me that's not much of a holiday.

Normally I spend weeks preparing for Christmas. I like to bake, and every year I make at least a dozen varieties—often more than one batch because I take a big box to my publisher, Tyndale House, which is local to me. Then I make more cookies for holiday gatherings and family to enjoy.

Like everyone else, I spend weeks shopping for and wrapping gifts. Buying several gifts for each member of the family is a tradition I grew up with. My parents didn't have a lot of money but with six kids they still managed to fill up the space below the Christmas tree with all kinds of things. Most only cost a few dollars—but it was the fun of seeing so many wrapped presents and wondering what they could be, then opening them, that was half the fun. Added to the pile were little gifts each of us kids would buy for each other. Lots of little but thoughtful presents are the tradition in my family, one I've tried to carry on even as it's become harder to keep the cost reasonable.

Then there is a special Christmas meal, preparing something that's a bit out of the ordinary or a little more lavish than the everyday cooking that usually goes on around here. My bathroom scale attests to the fact that around the days leading up to and including Christmas are filled with lots of fun calories.

But now the days ahead will get back to "normal." Apart from the relief that the number on that scale shouldn't keep going up (but hopefully back down once the last cookie disappears!) it's a bit of a let down to have the festivities over and done.

Perhaps the European way is better. I've heard in Germany they celebrate St. Nicholas Day (December 6th) with gifts for the children, but Christmas Day is reserved for more spiritual reflection. My family does read about the birth of Christ from Luke, and we used to have a birthday cake for Jesus—a tradition I've let go in the last couple of years because there were already so many sweets in the house.

Christmas in this country is what it is: material, commercialized, secularized in so many ways. Some of the traditions I carry on and will no doubt continue to carry on reflect that. But on this day after Christmas, instead of feeling let down that it's all over, the older I get and the faster this day seems to come each year, I realize this day after is perhaps every bit as wonderful as those leading up to yesterday. This is the day I take time to thank God for so many blessings in my life—I saw them on the faces in my family. And this morning when I walked the dog, when the sun was just a promise in the sky, it lit the frost on the grass and rooftops the most spectacular shade of bluish green that instead of walking I nearly wanted to get down on my knees to thank God for the blessing of creation.

Life really is a miracle, and now with my days ready to return to the life He gave me I'm saying Thank You! And on with life as usual . . .

With just a few days before Christmas, it seems almost impossible to think of anything except the holiday. Because of our culture, it's a season of busyness. Decorations to be hung, cards to address, parties to attend, baking to do, presents to wrap… But as a Christian, I can't help but believe this time of the year should also be a time of reflection. Not limited to reflections of Christmases past (a la A Christmas Carol) but also to reflect — at least for a moment — on what started this whole season to begin with.

Over the weekend I heard an actress mention that, because she was Jewish she only celebrated Christmas as a cultural holiday. She said she grew up with a tree and exchanged gifts, but her family wasn't at all religious. Yet even from this she made the point of saying Christmas was still spiritual, even for her. I can't help but believe it's spiritual because of the underlying message we all hear at Christmas, at least if we listen to any of the older Christmas songs or watch any classics: that of sacrifice. You can't listen to songs like Joy To The World or Silent Night without remembering Christ.

Perhaps because of the season my own life, reflection is coming easier this year. My father died several years ago, and my mother followed two years later. After my mother died, my Christmas family traditions changed. This is a common occurrence for people who've lost their parents around my age, and an underlying layer that adds to our grief: sure change is ahead. Parents are often the glue that holds an extended family together, and when that goes away we're left with our immediate family. Nice, but smaller. Different.

And so as I slowly establish new traditions, remember but grieving some that are forever lost, it leaves a bit more room to turn my attention to what this season is supposed to be all about. Not Santa Claus, but about the Christ who gave up heaven to be born in a stable, the Christ who suffered rejection and a cruel death. Not so much the gifts I give or receive but the currency attached to another kind of gift that my pastor talked about at church this weekend: by being generous in ways that will glorify God.

So here's my thought for the week: I pray the busyness of the season won't drown out the truth of this season, that God so loved the world that He gave His only Son for us.

If you have a moment, here's Josh Groban singing O Holy Night, with scenes from The Nativity Story. Take a few minutes to reflect . . . and enjoy!


Merry Christmas!

There are many things an author can be excited about during the course of a writing career. New ideas that spark an entire story or unique character. Having the pieces of a plot fit together as if we'd designed it that way from the start (that's usually not the case with seat-of-the-pants writers). Sharing our work with others, from family to editors to reviewers to readers across the world.

Ranking with all of that is the first moment an author gets to see the cover—the presentation of a visual interpretation of our story. From a marketing point of view, this is of course one of the most important selling features a book possesses.

To start with, covers need to express information, such as if the book is contemporary or historical. But more than that, it should indicate the kind of book. What genre? Obviously the portrayal of a romance will be different from that of a horror novel. The use of light is especially important here, the book's first promise of what the pages contain.

But covers, to an author, are far more than a selling tool. The picture on the front should evoke an emotional response that captures a little of the emotion the story strives to convey. It should invite the reader in, make them look forward to an experience with a whole new cast of characters in a setting they're either curious about or already know they would enjoy.

Because of the importance of that image, authors usually feel more than a little anticipation when it comes to seeing our cover for the first time. I know we need to trust the experts on this, those with far more experience in marketing than most authors, but it nonetheless feels like part of the personal investment we put into our work—only it's one we often times don't have much control over. We create the story, but in traditional publishing we don't create the cover.

Despite the fact that I'm so rarely disappointed with the cover art from my publisher, every time I receive an email from my editor containing the first draft of the cover direction, I open that particular email with a little prayer.

This time I already knew what the model portraying my heroine, Meg, would be wearing. Going on information from the book, the Tyndale design team scouts costume and vintage dress shops for something that might fit. Here is a picture of the dress they used for my character to wear:


Full length viewWhen my editor shared this picture with me, we were both excited because it immediately reminded both of us of a specific scene from the book.
Isn't the detailing gorgeous?








Here's the description of what Meg will be wearing to an outdoor concert, circa early 1880s in Central Park, New York City. See if you think it's a perfect fit:

The afternoon was warm and so Meg chose the lightest of her white muslin dresses, the sheerest lace gloves, the smallest hat of straw with the tiniest paper flower embellishment. The trees were still young in the Ramble where the concert was to be played, so there would be little shade. In deference to the close proximity of seating she would bring her most petite parasol of brushed chiffon, the one trimmed simply in lace rather than fringe that might otherwise impede the view of someone nearby. A delicately carved white wood fan was an absolute must.

And so with the sheer lace and addition of the perfect gloves, here is what the wonderful Tyndale cover design team came up with:



What would you say this book expresses? Romance, I hope, because of the lovely young model portraying my heroine. It's the first of my new Gilded Age series, so the warm, inviting gold shining from the background hints the era. My heroine is also an avid gardener—specializing in gardens known to attract butterflies—so having her tending the roses is a perfect touch!

Needless to say, I'm so excited about this newest addition to the family. I have a few months to go for delivery of this one, with a June release date, but if this past year is any indication of how quickly time passes, the next few months will speed by!

 

[image error] This week I'm pleased to present a novella by my friend Hannah Alexander. It sounds like a nail-biter, so let's escape some of the holiday stress for some heart-racing suspense—with a happy ending, of course! With that extra adrenaline we'll for sure tackle that holiday to-do list. :-)


Silent Night, Deadly Night , novella by Hannah Alexander included in Season of Danger anthology by Love Inspired Suspense

 Release date December 2011 A little about the story: After the murder of Tess Vance's fiance, Tess leaves her career as a musical talent agent and retreats home to her brother's rescue mission for the homeless in Corpus Christi, Texas. She finds solace helping others, and peace with ex-cop Sean Torrance, who has also endured great pain over the past year. Just as they begin to think life will settle for them, and their friendship will deepen into something more lasting, Tess finds herself the subject of a stalking, and the stalker hurts her by hurting and killing those she loves, including the homeless.
All of Sean's protective instincts rise to the top when the woman he has grown to love finds herself in danger once again. He'll do whatever it takes to protect her and the others he works with at the mission. As the owner and manager of one of the top radio stations in the region, he finds a way to stop the attacks, but it will mean betraying her trust. Can their relationship withstand the conflict? About the Author:
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Hannah Alexander is the pen name for the writing collaboration of Cheryl and Mel Hodde. They chose the name "Hannah Alexander" to [image error] incorporate their two names into one. They have read that Hannah means "her hope is in the Lord," and Alexander means, "servant of mankind." Mel and Cheryl live in the Missouri Ozarks, where they like to set the majority of their books.

Hannah Alexander website www.hannahalexander.com

Click here to purchase on Amazon.

My husband likes to start his day with a brisk cup of coffee, so first thing in the morning, before he goes in to the classroom, he enjoys the flavor of the moment before spending the rest of the day on his feet performing in front of the students.

Drinking coffee isn't a habit I picked up, despite having had two parents who both enjoyed the brew. However, starting in the cool months and going on through late spring, I particularly enjoy a cup of hot chai tea latte. So as I sit down at the computer in the morning to write, I have my own favorite flavor moment.

Our beverage of choice delights our taste buds, warms our insides, and gives us a moment to prepare for the day.

The hours ahead are a blank slate waiting to be filled with our work. My husband can either be thrilled or frustrated over his efforts with the students, depending on how lessons, experiments and demos are received. For me, my insights come either from the research I do on whatever project I'm immersed in, perhaps learning a new perspective from reading, or from moving forward in the writing process to see where the characters will take me . What will the day unfold? Who knows! But it's bound to be different from the one before, for both my husband and for me.

But as my husband likes to say, that moment sipping our favorite beverage is the best of the day. It's all downhill from there. Reality sets in. Too often, students don't want to be enlightened, or characters refuse to play out whatever scene should come next. Unexpected distractions come along, time fillers and wasters, so that an hour might go by with nothing of value to show for it.

Of course, both of us have days where everything just seems to fit. On those days that delicious start is followed by a sense of accomplishment and achievement, of progress and satisfaction. Which of course feeds into future first-thing-in-the-morning hopes when we'll savor another day ahead, hoping that moment isn't the highlight even if that's what it turns out to be. Because no matter how the day goes, at least we started it out with a pleasant moment!

That's life from a morning person's perspective. Since both of us are morning people, I know only from two of my late-nighter children that such morning moments don't seem to exist. For them the day only gets interesting in the evening, and if they could they would stay up until well into the night, sleeping away whatever is left of any moments containing an "a.m.".

I wonder what the split is? Are there more morning people in the world, or those who are energized as the day dwindles? Which are you?

Having officially started my day with my latte at my side, I'm going to get to work. Revisions today, on my spring release Bees In The Butterfly Garden. I hope you'll check back next Monday when I reveal the new cover. I keep saying each new cover is the most beautiful one I've received yet, and this is no exception. It really is gorgeous, and I hope you'll agree!

This week's feature is from my friend Margaret Daley. Try to make some time this season to escape into a holiday tale!A note from Margaret:When I decided to write a series about a town that goes througha hurricane, I wanted to give tribute to all the people who have gone through adisaster and rebuilt their lives. This series was written for the heroes andheroines who help others in a time of disaster.
A little bit about His HolidayFamily by Margaret Daley:When Hurricane Naomi tearsthrough a small Mississippi town, a daring rescue unites two heroes. NurseKathleen Hart is a single mom racked by guilt over her husband's death.Firefighter Gideon O'Brien—orphaned as a young boy—has lost too many people hecared for. To rise above the storm's devastation, Gideon helps Kathleen and hersons rebuild their home. As Christmas approaches, they discover that even thestrongest of storms can't destroy a romance built on the foundation of faith.
Excerpt from His HolidayFamily:Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.Gideon O'Brien hopped downfrom Engine Two and assessed the chaos in front of him. Strapping on his airpack, he started toward his captain. A hand gripped his arm and stopped hisforward progress. He turned toward the blonde woman who held him, her largeblue eyes glistening with tears. She looked familiar, but he couldn't placewhere he knew her from. His neighbor's daughter, perhaps?
"My two sons and mycousin—their babysitter—must still be inside. I don't see them outside with theother tenants." Her voice quivered. She tightened her hand on his arm andscanned the crowd. "I'm Kathleen Hart. My sons are Jared and Kip. I triedSally's cell but she didn't answer. Please get them out." A tear slippeddown her cheek.
"Where arethey?" Gideon moved toward his captain, his palm at the small of her back,guiding her in the direction he wanted her to go. Yes, he realized, she was hisneighbor Ruth Coleman's daughter.
"Sally's second-floorapartment is on the east side, the fourth one down on your right. Number 212.Hurry." Her round eyes fastened on the fire consuming the three-storyapartment building on Magnolia Street.
Gideon paused in front ofCaptain Fox. "Mrs. Hart says her sons and babysitter are still inside.Pete and I can go in and get them." He looked toward the west end of thelarge structure where the men of Engine One were fighting the flames eatingtheir way through the top level. "There's still time."
"Okay." Hiscaptain surveyed the east end. "But hurry. It won't be long before thiswhole building goes up."
The scent of smoke hungheavy in the air. The hissing sound of water hitting Magnolia Street Apartmentsvied with the roar of the blaze.
Gideon turned toward themother of the two boys. "We'll find them." He gave her a smile thensearched the firefighters for Pete.
When Gideon found him afew feet away, he covered the distance quickly. "Let's go. There are threepeople trapped on the second floor. East end."
At the main entrance intothe building Gideon fixed his mask in place, glancing back at the blonde womanstanding near his captain. He had seen that same look of fear and worry manytimes over his career as a firefighter. He wouldn't let anything happen to hersons and Sally.
Gideon switched on hisvoice amplifier and headed into the furnace with Pete following close behindhim. Through the thick cloud suspended from the ceiling in the foyer, thestairs to the second floor loomed. Crouching, he scrambled up the steps. Thehigher he went, the hotter it became.
Whew! What a place to stop. Happy Reading, all!

One of the themes behind the novel I'm currently working on deals with the consequence of sin. Cheery subject, isn't it? That's book writing for you. There's no story without conflict.

My 1880s hero is living an isolated life as a consequence of his sin. He stole quite a bit of money in his youth, and has lived with the secret ever since. His sin was never discovered—well, at least not yet—and so the consequences he's living with are entirely self-imposed.

In contrast, my flawed but virtuous heroine's goal is to offer a place of refuge and shelter to women who've had to resort to prostitution in a time and place when women had few choices. Many of the women she wants to minister to are dealing with consequences of their sin, but some have suffered misfortune because of someone else's sin. In other words, they've found themselves thrust into such a life not because they wanted it, but because they had no other choice.

That's what I'm finding so sadly interesting. That people can suffer consequences but not always because of their own doing. I think that's one of the reasons there are not only bitter people in the world, but unbelieving ones: the problem of suffering. Why does God allow good people to suffer? Children? The innocent?

Scholars have attempted to answer this question for generations, and one way of looking at it is that God set up a faith-based system of life, one that includes free will. Choice and freedom can bring good and wonderful things, but it can also bring the opposite. On a grand scale, sin is what started all of the problems of this world. On an individual scale, sometimes either our choices or the choices of others bring suffering. But faith is the greatest benefit—either we choose to love God or we don't. Without that free will there would be no choice at all, and apparently with imperfect human beings you can't have free will without suffering.

While I was contemplating this subject, I heard a song from Rebecca St. James about how God makes everything beautiful—even our pain and failures. Somehow I found that comforting, both personally and for my character's sake. The phrase helped me see that if we reach out to God in our suffering, it becomes a sacred moment. Something precious to Him, because it becomes a tool to draw us closer to Him.

The song begins by reminding us of how easy it is to worship a God as generous as ours, one Who has given us so many natural gifts. We see Him in sunrises and sunsets, in the beauty and variety of plants and animals around us. I even see Him in the wag of my dog's tail—what a profound gift!

But this song made me see that He can also make those hard moments in life beautiful, too, because it's perhaps in those moments when He is the most real to us. And that's as beautiful to Him as it should be to us.

One last thought before clicking on the song: There is absolutely nothing beautiful in the suffering Christ did on the cross—if that was all it was. But it wasn't just a brutal death, it was a complete and utter sacrifice of a God Who loves what He created. Us. And in that is utter beauty.

Here's the song. I know you'll enjoy it!

 This week I'm pleased to tell you about Pamela Meyers new book, Thyme for Love. I met Pam through American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) a number of years ago, and have always appreciated not only her servant's heart but her diligent journey toward publication. She's a wonderful writer and is a testimony to how the path to publication can be longer and more winding than most of us expect. But sticking with it is the key!


Here's a little about Pam and the first of her books, with many more to come:





April Love has always dreamed of being a chef.
But she didn't expect her former fiancé
or murder to be part of the recipe for her new job.


When April Love signs on to be an in-house chef at an old lakeshore mansion in Canoga Lake, Wisconsin, she comes face to face with her long-lost love, the drop-dead gorgeous Marc Thorne. It doesn't take long for their old magnetism to recharge, but how can she trust the guy who left her nearly at the altar eight years earlier? Her gut tells her something happened to Marc in between—something he's reluctant to reveal.


When April's boss is murdered, Marc is accused of the crime. Unless April can find out who really killed Ramón Galvez, her chances for love will end up at the county jail. But someone else is just as determined she not solve the mystery…and will go to any length to stop her.






A native of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, Pamela S. Meyers currently lives in the Chicago area. She served on the Operating Board for ACFW 2005-2009, and is president of her local ACFW chapter. Her debut novel Thyme for Love released November 14, 2011, and her historical that is set in her hometown, Love Finds You in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, will release in June 2012. She has published articles in Today's Christian Woman, Christian Computing, Victory in Grace, and Ancestry. She is also a contributor in the compilation book, His Forever.

Here's a book trailer about Thyme for Love: 




To purchase Thyme for Love, click here.


Happy Reading!

Can you believe it's the start of a yet another holiday season? My mother warned me time gets faster the older you get, and looking at the calendar to see another year is almost over reminds me of that truth.

As a quick getaway before all of the holiday craziness begins, I sneaked away for a few days to a little resort town in Illinois. Chances are you've heard of it, particularly if you know anything about the 18th president of the United States: Ulysses S. Grant. He wasn't born in Galena (Ohio has that claim to fame) but he moved to Galena during his civilian years to work with his father and brother in the family leather business.
When the Civil War began, Grant helped recruit many volunteers to fight for the Union—and trained them in this little yard not far from his first home in Galena. Grant became one of nine Union generals from the bustling town of Galena.
Because of Grant's success in the Civil War, a group of wealthy, grateful citizens of the town presented Grant a home. He later ran his presidential campaign from this location. Of course when he won (two terms) he moved to the White House, but he visited Galena often after his retirement. By then he mainly lived in New York City, where he died of throat cancer at only sixty-three years of age. He's buried in NYC. Remember the old "trick" question about who's buried in Grant's Tomb? Evidently the correct answer is no one, since his body is above ground in the tomb so he's technically not "buried" at all.

The famous Nast portrait of Lee surrendering to Grant, ending the Civil War, hangs in the Galena History museum.

Did you know this is one of several artist renditions of this moment, but not a single one is entirely accurate? There was no artist or early tintype photographer present at the surrender, so it's drawn from the artist's imagination. The museum offered three other renditions, none so famous as the Nast painting, but each one was different. One had only a few people in attendance, one had so many they were clamoring at the door for a peek. A portrait of George Washington hangs on the wall in one version, as if to say the father of the United States is pleased and relieved to be watching over such a momentous occasion. Another painting, although historically inaccurate because they knew the event took place indoors, depicts the scene on a field with both armies in attendance—showing gaunt Confederate soldiers in tattered uniforms opposite well fed Union soldiers dressed in crisp uniforms astride fresh, strong horses. Artists do like to slip messages in, don't we . . . I mean, they?
The oldest operational Post Office in the United States is in Galena. There are older post office buildings in the East, but none are still in operation.

And this . . . well, I guess I had gardens on the brain when I snapped this picture, perhaps because of my upcoming 2012 release, Bees In The Butterfly Garden. I'm not sure I'd use this birdcage gazebo in any future garden stories, but I thought it was an interesting addition to the yard of a Victorian B&B.

Galena was the busiest steamboat port between St. Louis and St. Paul (the latter of which I learned used to be called Pig's Eye, after a bootlegger! But I digress…) In the mid 1800s Galena boasted a much larger population than Chicago, and many believed at the time it would continue to be the largest city in Illinois. But with the advent of train travel, Chicago became the railroad hub and steamboat travel dwindled. Once lead mining faded as well, Galena seemed destined for desertion. It wasn't until the 1960s that the town began protecting its many historic buildings in the town and in the 80s directed its efforts toward a resort attraction. It's now the second most visited attraction in Illinois—after Chicago, of course.