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The Words on my Desk

April 29, 2013 by

The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis – The best book I’ve read in a long time. It has totally rocked my faith and honestly saved me from a bout of bitterness at the present circumstances of life.

With God in Russia by Walter J. Ciszek, S.J. – The fascinating true story of Father Ziszek who was falsely accused in 1940 of being an American Spy and sentenced to hard labor in a Russian prison camp in Siberia. He would remain imprisoned for 23 years.

The Secrets of a Freelance Writer by Robert W. Bly – This book (or my version of it, anyway) is a bit outdated as it was printed before the boom of online social media, but it still gives practical tips for how we writers can actually make a little bit of money at this freelance gig. Because friends, I need a new computer. Mine is hobbling toward the finish line and really, at 745 in computer years, she’s lived a long, happy life. But it’s time for a replacement and before that can happen I need some money.

Wild Things: The Art of Nurturing Boys by Stephen James and David Thomas – I haven’t started this one, but The MOB Society will be leading us through it during this month’s Book Club. Check it out if you want to be involved. I’m looking forward to it!

Bonhoeffer: Paster, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxes – I’ve been slowly making my way through this book. It’s wordy, but it is so, so good. It’s given me a GREAT glimpse into the world of Nazi Germany, which has helped further bolster the historical nature of my own novel. In addition, the story of Bonhoeffer’s life is challenging and fascinating.

How to Write a Book Proposal by Michael Larsen – The time has come for me to get down to the dirty business of getting my book published and part of that process is writing a book proposal. This is not the fun part of the process, I might add, but it is necessary.

Write the Perfect Book Proposal by Jeff Herman and Deborah M. Adams – See above.

 

So that’s what I’m reading. How about you? What words are sitting on your desk top, or beside your bed, or on your couch or kitchen countertop or wherever it is that you get lost in a book?

Filed Under: books, Novel, writing Tagged With: , , , ,

The Peace and Comfort of Art Created

April 24, 2013 by

I am deep in the trenches of editing my book, which is more overwhelming than it sounds. As I read through it a second time, this time with the words of those who have read and offered constructive criticism, I find myself swallowed in the process. It is equally daunting and peaceful.

In the background, the Mozart station plays on Pandora filling my mind with the peace and comfort of art created. I love the way the notes mold and push and swell and fall and each have their place.

My mind still feels full and twisted and confused by all that has happened over the last few months. Sometimes I feel like a lost little puppy. But when I stop thinking and start creating, peace takes over and wraps me tight. I just re-read these words from my novel. They were spoken by a father who had to let go of his son. I wrote this two years ago, but I needed to read again it today.

“Pain is an interesting emotion.  It’s more than physical, though it certainly manifests itself in physical ways.  As I hug my son for the last time, my arms physically ache as though the muscles are tearing from the bone.  And when I pull back and look into his brave but tear filled eyes, I feel my heart rip.

I think I even hear it.

I won’t get that piece of my heart back.  And that is the interesting thing about pain.  It never leaves you.  Sometimes it dulls and other times you may feel healed, but pain always leaves a mark – a scar as a reminder that life and love aren’t free.  Pain changes everything.”

©Kelli Stuart, April 2013

I hope I don’t sound terribly angsty and sad. I’m not – in fact, right now in this moment I am enormously satisfied. I still feel unsure of what tomorrow will bring, but today is alright.

Today there is peace in the process of creating.

And there is Mozart.

And…well, I can’t lie – there’s also some coffee and a little bit of chocolate involved.

 

So tell me friends – how do you all find peace and calm when life feels twisty and unsure?

Filed Under: faith, Novel, writing Tagged With: , , , , ,

On writing and grief and finishing that book

March 26, 2013 by

I finished my initial read through of the book last night. My first reaction? Thank God it’s not too bad. I’ve never done this whole writing a 450 page novel thing. This is my first rodeo, so I didn’t know what to expect. Couple that with the fact that it’s been almost three years since I started this draft of the book and you have a writer who’s a bit nervous.

I wrote the beginning of the book a long, long time before I wrote The End. What if it didn’t connect?

Now admittedly, there are a few gaps to be worked out and the ending needs some sharpening. I wanted to finish so badly that my fingers were literally flying over the keyboard. It took me a little over two years to write the first 150 pages of that books. It took me just shy of 9 months to write the final 300 pages.

The story finally came tumbling out.

In a lot of ways, the book writing process very much mirrors a birth process. Only, honestly, I think it’s mentally and emotionally harder to write a book than have a baby.

I am connected to this story in a way that no one else will ever really understand. The characters became real to me. I dream about them at night. I hear their voices in my head. It all sounds so strange, but it’s not unlike the connection I felt to my unborn children.

I knew them before I saw them. I dreamed of them. I was connected to them in a way no one else could be, because they were a part of me.

Parts of my story are connected to this story. I used to feel a little ashamed and embarrassed about how long it took me to write this book, but I realized in the last week as I read through it that I needed to take that time. There are parts of this story that I could not have written if I hadn’t had the experiences I had.

I needed to experience childbirth and motherhood.

I needed to experience the heartache of losing the hope of a child.

I needed to experience the darkness of depression.

Friends, the last few months have been very, very hard. I’ve tried not to overdo the drama of it all on the blog, but I have not been in a good place. I am always right on the edge of an emotional breakdown. Most of the people who see me on a regular basis know this all too well as I basically cry at the drop of a hat.

In truth, I hardly remember the month of January. It’s as though that entire month has been blocked from my subconscious. I have never felt more alone or experienced a deeper pain than I did in that month. I couldn’t eat, I was in a constant state of fatigue and I lived from moment to moment in a fog of emotional pain.

Feburary is a bit brighter, but the memory of that month is shrouded in fog. That was the month I began to process my heartache – to share it and open up about the depths of the pain I felt.

March has been a little better, but the wound is still fresh and the grief can be set off at any moment.

And in these two and a half months since grief crashed down on me, I’ve written 175 pages. The words poured out and they became cathartic and brought about healing in an almost beautiful way. I transferred my grief to my characters, people who were experiencing a darkness much deeper than my own.

I don’t know if I wrote the story well, but I do know that writing the story helped me heal.

Writing a book requires that you pour your heart out. It’s hard and long and arduous and painful, but in the end, a sort of life is birthed from the process. Your hard work produces a miracle. A piece of you is transferred to the outside and you have a tangible evidence of the labor and pain.

It is, indeed, like the birth of a baby…if you were birthing a baby while running a marathon and spinning plates on a long, tall stick. The metaphor gets convoluted – roll with it.

I’ve passed my book out to my first round of test readers. I have several people lined up waiting to read it and I’m both excited and terrified. I know it needs work, but I also believe in the potential of the story. There are edits to comb through and rewrites to prepare for. There are holes to fill and there’s probably more research to be done.

(Oh sweet mercy, how I hate research. Can I just take a brief moment to tell you how many times I wished I had been given something easier to write about? Why couldn’t I just make up my world and my people? Historical fiction?! Oy…)

But all of that is okay, because there is still room for healing in my heart. The world isn’t dark and lonely anymore, thanks to a few people who have stepped up beside me and begun walking through the grief with me, and also thanks to the process of pouring my heart out to the story that I was given.

I needed to write this story at this time – to give birth to the characters in this way. Soon I pray I will have the opportunity to introduce this book to the world, but for now I covet your prayers as I begin editing. I long to present a book of excellence – a story that brings honor not to my name, but to the God who entrusted me with these stories.

Will you pray with me?

Filed Under: books, faith, Grace, Novel, writing Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Spring Break Photo of the Day: The End

March 11, 2013 by

 

The End

 

The END

 

THE END!

 

THEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDD!

 

I finished my book last night.

Over ten years of research – of starting and stopping, writing and tossing.

Tears.

Sweat.

Blood.

(Literally. I’ll tell you sometime about the day I fell flat on my face in Kiev…while five months pregnant. Good times…)

454 Pages.

139, 743 words.

THE END.

What am I going to do now?

I’m going to Disney World! The kids and I leave today and yes…I think this week is going to be magical.

Because I finished.

Filed Under: Novel, Spring Break, writing Tagged With: , , , ,

The End is Nigh…

February 11, 2013 by

If we were dating, I would tell you it’s not you, it’s me. I would hold your hand and tell you that we’re not breaking up – I just need a little space. I need some me-time.

That’s what I would say if we were dating.

Friends, I am *thisclose* to finishing my book. The first draft, that is. Serious edits loom before me like a massive thundercloud waiting to suck me into its vortex. I am slightly nervous, but mostly I am excited because I AM *THISCLOSE* TO FINISHING MY BOOK!

I wrapped up one character’s story a couple of weeks ago. Another character is on her way to redemption, a third character is approaching an impasse of faith and the fourth character needs only to fight to survive. I know where they’re going and, quite honestly, some days I just can’t get my fingers to type it all out fast enough.

I can’t really focus on writing well here and finishing over there so I will be writing less here until I have brought each character to where they need to go. I’ve read before of authors who grow attached to their characters as though they are real people. As crazy as it sounds, I get that. I owe it to these characters to finish their stories.

I owe it to the hundreds of World War II veterans who shared their very real stories with me both in person and through letters.

I owe it to the country that holds a large piece of my soul.

I owe it to my husband and children who have been encouraging me to accomplish this goal for a long, long, looooonnnngggg time.

I owe it to the numerous friends and family members who have cheered me on and who have waited patiently as I wade through this novel writing process like a slug in molasses.

I owe it to all of you who have read the sneak peeks and who now wait to read the missing pieces!

I owe it to the God who planted this idea and love in my heart and gave me the story to tell. Oh how I pray I do it justice.

I told you before I won’t be sharing anymore of the novel with you here. I was tempted today, but I resisted. I want you to read their stories in their entirety so you can love these characters with me. I want you to hope for redemption as I have hoped for it. I want you all to join me on this awesome journey.

I take a huge chance in putting all of this out here. Believe me, I feel the pressure of sharing this with you, because what if this book sucks? What if you all get it and start reading and end up tossing it aside in disgust and ultimately using it to balance a wobbly table? The thought makes me cringe.

I suppose every author feels this way at some point. Perhaps us first time novelists feel this pressure more, but I don’t think this fear is unique to me. There is a great risk in laying your heart out for the world to read. There is a great chance to be taken when you work as long as I have on a single work and you lay it before the public for scrutiny.

But I keep going back to the fact that this book has chosen me and I have poured all of my heart and emotion into it. I long to tell these stories in a true and authentic way and to be excellent in my portrayal of the people and history that hold my heart.

So I’m not breaking up with you. I’m really not. I’ll still be popping in and I’ve got more stories to share. But today – this week – this month – there are people who need my attention a little bit more.

Wait for me?

(This is the part where I’d give you an awkward but friendly hug to let you know that we’re all good and we will always be friends.)

Filed Under: Blogging, Novel, writing Tagged With: , , ,

Day 30: The Merging

October 30, 2012 by

I’ve had this desire for awhile now to start a new site where I could write with a little more abandon. I love this space I’ve created at Minivans Are Hot. I love laughing with you all. I love shaking my head in bewilderment at the fact that I DRIVE A MINIVAN! What the huh?!

Aaaaanyhoooo…

I needed something new – some place to stretch my wings as a writer a bit. I will still be updated here regularly, because this place is my outlet. But I’ll also be over there periodically just…letting the words dance a little.

Join me over there today?

Photo by AvodahImages.com

There is a brief morning moment when the early morning light kisses the ground and staves off the slumber of night. With a wink and a flash the dark slides back and the daylight exposes the newness of the morning. It is still and leaves behind that comforting place where peace settles and all things seem possible.

This new site is my morning post.

It is the quiet and the peace and the shared moment of grace and joy. This is where the words will dance and the act of writing will be less of a labor and more of the shining glimmer of dew on tall green grass. There are no ads to run, and there is no genre to follow. Expectations are low and joy runs rampant.

Read more at KelliStuart.com

Filed Under: 31 Days, writing Tagged With: , ,

A final sneak peek

October 23, 2012 by

I haven’t written many of my trademark witty posts lately. I’m sorry about that. I tried to think of something funny to write about today,  but I got nothin’.

Actually, I have several things…but I can’t share them. The kids are at the ages where they get all embarrassed and mortified at the thought of me sharing anything about them. I mean, SHEESH! Don’t they know we’re living in the technical age when all of life is lived under a bowl and nothing is left private?

They’re holding me back, they are.

Please note the sarcasm. I do not want any nasty notes about how I need to respect my children and guard their privacy.

Anyhoo, the kids have done and said and written some HI-LAAAAA-RIOUS things as of late. But alas, I will not share it with the world because there will be plenty of opportunity for me to drive my children to a counselor’s office, but oversharing their childhood will not be one of them.

So I’m not really feeling that funny today. I do have a couple of ideas rolling around, though, so stay tuned. I’ll make you laugh again, dear readers. I will make you howl with delight, roar in helpless hysterics, chuckle with amused glee.

Or I will bore you to death.

Today I am going to give you one last sneak peek at the novel. This is the last time I’ll let you see what I’m writing until the finished product is in your hand. I don’t want to give too much away. I want to leave you hanging a bit. To recap, here are the teasers I’ve already let you read:

Sneak Peek

Sneak Peek 2

The Novel

One More Glance

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can

Another Peek

Okay, so the final peek? Are you ready? Here it is.

A little set up: A young man named Oleg has gone missing. Hans is a German soldier who has fallen in love with Luda. He is helping the family find out what happened to Oleg. I know it sounds confusing. You’ll just have to read the rest of the book to figure it all out!

Hans looks hard at me and I nod, squeezing his hand in reassurance. He nods back, then shifts his gaze to Alexei again.

“Oleg and the other prisoners are being forced to construct a secret hide out for Adolf Hitler. It is to be a place where war time operations are discussed and where Hitler can come to vacation and hide.”

“What?” Baba Mysa gasps and she sinks down into a chair next to her husband. Katya shrinks back against the wall, her hands still clutching her chin.

“Hitler is constructing a hideout in Vinnitsya?” Alexei says, his eyes wide with shock, anger and fear.

Hans nods. “This is top secret information among the ranks,” he says and together he and I sit across from Alexei and Baba Mysa. “They are calling the hiding place Werwolf, or Vervolfy.”

“When will it be completed?” Alexei asks.

“Very soon, I imagine,” Hans replies. “The prisoners are now digging underground tunnels which will work to allow Hitler the freedom to wander from one building to another without exposing himself outdoors. I’m told that Hitler is planning his first stay for July.”

“That’s just a couple of weeks away!” I exclaim and Hans nods soberly.

“There isn’t much time,” he says quietly.

“How is Oleg?” Baba Mysa asks. Her voice is tired and her eyes drawn. This week has aged her.

Hans looks at her closely and I see him judging how much he should admit. “He is tired,” he answers. “And I believe he is sick. All of the prisoners are sick.”

Everyone sits quietly for a moment as we ingest this news. Finally, I speak. “What are we going to do?” I ask.

Hans looks at me and grabs my hand, then he turns to the rest of the group. “I am going to get him out,” he answers. “If I don’t, Oleg will be killed.”

Alexei leans forward and pressing his elbows against the table looking hard at Hans. “They will kill all the prisoners when construction is complete, won’t they?” he asks and Hans nods slowly. Katya begins to weep softly and I feel my hands begin to shake.

“Will you be safe?” I ask.

“Stupid girl!”

We all jump at Katya’s outburst. She shoves herself away from the wall and lunges toward me. Alexei manages to catch her just before her fist hits my face. “You’re worried about this…this…GERMAN while my brother is being forced to build a hide out for the devil?! I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

Alexei drags his daughter from the room as she writhes and squirms in his arms. The tears fall hot against my cheeks and Hans wraps his arm around my shoulders protectively. In the background, I hear my son begin to wail.

“I will get the baby,” Baba Mysa says, standing up slowly. She looks at Hans closely. “I believe Luda, now,” she says. “You are a good man. Forgive my granddaughter’s emotions. Thank you for what you are doing.”

Hans nods and Baba Mysa moves quickly to retrieve Sasha.

“I’m sorry, Hans,” I cry. “I’m so sorry.”

“Ssshhh…” Hans whispers. “It’s okay. I understand. I know that Katya is upset and I believe she has the right to be angry at me. But I don’t like her anger at you.”

“I’m afraid of losing you,” I weep and I bury my face in his chest, his strong arms engulfing me in a tight embrace. “I’m so afraid.”

Hans lets me cry for a moment before pushing me back. He wipes the tears from my cheeks gently and offers a small smile. “I’m afraid, too,” he says. “Which is why I have to do what I’m going to do.”

The sound of his voice stops me cold and I look up at him closely. His eyes burn bright and his jaw is set firmly. “What are you going to do?” I ask.

“I’m going to free Oleg,” he answers. “And then I’m going to kill Adolf Hitler.”

©Kelli Stuart, October 2012

Do you want to read the rest? Great! You can buy it when it comes out, hopefully sometime next year! (Yes, I’m thinking positive).

Filed Under: 31 Days, Novel, writing Tagged With: , , , ,

The tear in my flesh

October 16, 2012 by

Jackson Pollack "Autumn Rhythm"

This mothering thing is hard. No one really tells you how hard it will be. Or maybe they try and you just can’t believe it until you live it on your own. No one tells you that your heart will be torn in two and you will go through repeated cycles of trying to figure out who you are and how to match your independent desires with your desires to serve and love your family well.

No one mentions how messy it all is – that the desires will never match up, will never fit and yet somehow it all comes together anyway, but it looks more like a Jackson Pollack painting and less like Michealanjelo.

Before we were mothers, we were all something besides…mothers. We had dreams and longings and aspirations and desires that went beyond cleaning and scrubbing and washing and drying and refereeing and surviving.

When motherhood sets upon us, those dreams don’t disappear, but they do shift. Our desire to be Mommy becomes so much stronger than any other thing we’ve ever felt and we give ourselves wholly and fully to the task and yet….there remains something else inside.

The truth is, I sometimes feel like a big failure for not accomplishing more before I became a Mom. And I fight the feeling of failure for not attaining more even after I became mother. I compare myself to others and I wonder why they seem to accomplish so much and I can barely get through  my days.

Then I remember that every journey is different.

I wish I was finished with this novel. I wish I could write it faster. I feel like I’ve failed already for taking so long. But the truth is, this is the best I can do. I cannot stay up until all hours of the night writing, because that’s not how I operate or function.

I can’t do this any faster and still do my job as Mom well. I’m learning to be okay with that.

I wish I had more time. I wish it were easier. I wish I could accomplish more in the few hours I have alone. I wish I could shirk every other duty and focus solely on the one thing I want to do the most – finish this book.

But that is not where life has me right now. Right now I don’t have the solitude needed to be a great writer. I do, however, have everything I need to be a great mother. I have all the tools and all the abilities and all the time to excel in the role that matters most.

I will finish the book. I know that I will. But it’s taking time – so much more time than I want it to. I won’t finish it in the wee hours of the mornings because I must sleep in those hours so that I can be alert to pour all my energy into my number one job. And I will save a bit of time, a bit of energy for the desires and longings that are mine and will work fervently in the little time I have to reach that goal.

But it won’t be a quick ascent. I am the tortoise in this race. I’ll reach the finish line, but only through perseverence because I’ve found that, for me, slow and steady is far more successful than fast and furious. I’m much less prone to burn outs that way.

Lisa-Jo Baker wrote a wonderful post on writing the other day. It has encouraged me so much. If you feel like you’re always a step behind, like you can’t keep up, I suggest you read “If You Wish You had an Island to Write On Alone.”  This quote by Madaleine L’Engle bounces off my soul and clangs inside my heart:

 

“I uncovered the typewriter. In my journal I recorded this moment of decision, for that’s what it was. I had to write. I had no choice in the after. I didn’t matter how small or inadequate my talent. If I never had another book published, and it was very clear to me that this was a real possibility, I still had to go on writing.”

 

Day 16: If you, like me, feel frustrated with the longings that war against once another, take heart. It will all come together, and though it may look messy and wild, in the end it will be considered a masterpiece. 

Image Credit

Filed Under: 31 Days, Life, Motherhood, Novel, writing Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Believing means doing

October 12, 2012 by

No post today. Part of believing I can means I have to do it. Today I feel the creative juices flowing and I need to work on my book. I’ve got Hershey’s chocolate by my side, a mug of pumpkin coffee, Mozart playing in the background and two hours to myself.

 

Wish me luck!

 

And have a great weekend! Any fun plans on tap?

Filed Under: 31 Days, Novel, writing Tagged With: , ,

Another peek

October 11, 2012 by

Want another peek? This is Frederick, a Nazi soldier stationed in Kiev in World War II. He is a torn character who is ugly and horrifying and completely and totally sympathetic. I have really loved writing his story.

I was ten years old the first time my father took us all to Berlin. The year was 1934 and the memory dances through my mind in moving pictures, every emotion joined together in fluid motion. I remember the sights and sounds of the bustling city as we exited our train at Berlin’s Lehrter Bahnhof and moved to the Nazi provided car. The officer appointed to transport us was solemn and stern and I shrunk back in fear when he looked at me prompting my Father to pinch the back of my neck in annoyance.

He always hated when I showed any semblance of fear and I felt his disappointment as we slid into the plush car.

That trip to Berlin was the first time that I remember being in awe of my father’s status. He was so revered that as we exited the car, hotel staff hurried to us, picking up bags and rushing to our room to set it up in a fashion that was worthy of someone with such great importance.

We stood in our expansive room on the top floor of the Esplanade and looked out over the beautiful city. Talia and I pressed our noses to the cool glass and pointed out the cars and people walking far below us. I was awestruck at the bustle and energy that buzzed through the city.

“The cars look like small toys,” I cooed just before my father stepped up behind us.

“Stand up children,” he snapped, his words sharp and clipped. Talia and I stood and faced our father, my heart beating like a drum. “Good. Now, who can tell me what we worked on earlier this week.”

Because I was always so frightened of my father, it seemed to take me a long time to register any question he asked. Panic that I would produce an unacceptable answer left me mute. Talia thrust her hand in the air.

“Talia?”

“We learned to remain quiet and calm and to not speak unless asked a direct question,” she said with a smile, her bright red hair cascading over slender shoulders. Father smiled and ran his hand down her cheek.

“Very good, my darling,” he said. “Now, Frederick,” he said turning to me. “How are you to greet any official that walks your way?”

My heart raced as I searched for the words to answer my father. I couldn’t find them, so I merely thrust my arm in the air, straight up above my head. Father sighed and shook his head.

“Yes, Frederick,” he said with a heaping portion of annoyance, “but what do you say when you greet them?”

My hand, still high above my head, shook as I searched for the greeting that I knew so well. Why did I always feel so incompetent in his presence?

Talia snapped her heels together and threw her arm up next to me. “Hile Hitler!” she said, throwing me a sideways glance.

“Hile Hitler!” I repeated after her and Father nodded at us both.

“Very good,” he said. “Now go prepare yourselves for dinner.”

©Kelli Stuart, October 2012

Filed Under: 31 Days, Novel, writing Tagged With: , , ,
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