The Answer to All Your Worries

GE DIGITAL CAMERA — My backyard. A nice place to let worries go.

As we look forward to 2012, it may not be so filled with resolutions but questions:
Will I get an agent?
When will the agent get back to me?
Why did I only get a form letter?
Will I get a contract?
When will I hear from the publisher?
What’s going on with my publisher?
What are the trends?
What marketing technique is going to make my book a best seller?

This blog post is meant to answer all those questions.

I know, it’s not April Fools, and it may not strike you as funny when some of those questions feel so serious. But the thing is, the thing this blog post is really about, is those questions can’t be answered. Those questions- or similar ones- only serve to distract you from what you can answer:
How is my writing?
What can I do to improve my craft?
What can I do to improve my professional development?
What can I do to increase my industry savvy?
Am I doing best? Why do I not value my best as enough?

As we focus on questions we can not answer, as we worry about people that we do not control and as we try to know the unknowable– we are burning time and energy better suited elsewhere.

When we allow delays, distractions and even doubt to crowd in- that is time we are not writing. That is energy we could have used to edit. Or read a book on craft. Or attend a workshop. With all the time I have used worrying and wondering about stuff beyond my control, I could have attended whole conferences for weeks on end!

As the end of the year approaches and 2012 stretches before us, it is filled with opportunity. Opportunity for you to be the writer you are intended to be. No agent, publisher, contract or sale makes you a writer. Writing makes you a writer.

Yea, easy for you to say.

Uh, no. NOT easy. At all. It is a constant practice to remind myself to focus on my own stuff. It is not something you hear once and just magically stop worrying. Part of my ongoing practice is to work on reframing anxiety producing questions into thoughts that can actually be productive.

More than a year ago, I received an exciting response from an agent (ie “I love your novel. I want to discuss representation.”) This was pretty much my dream agent. I spent way too much time wondering when the agent would call, why she hadn’t called, maybe she’d changed her mind about me. Maybe she didn’t like my facebook picture and social media wouldn’t build my career after all. Maybe she didn’t think my blog title was funny…on it went.

Common thought about worry is to push it out of your mind: “Don’t think about it. Stop worrying. Let it go.” Sure. That’s going to happen. It’s like telling you not to think about elephants. Quick! What are you thinking about? Usually, elephants.

Here’s what I do.

Take one sentence of your worrying thoughts. The one that seems to sum it all up. Why hasn’t she called? Instead of trying to push that thought away. Invite it in. Mull it over with a cup a coffee. I take my cup and stare out at my backyard. Take a few breaths and really think that through.

Are you ready for that call?

The answer for me was: NO. I wanted her to call. Because I wanted an agent. But I was not ready. I wanted to be further along on my WIP. And, I was nine months pregnant. I was not in a life position to discuss building a new career. As I focused on my stuff, I was able to let go of that worry about when the phone call would come.

Instead of spending time and energy on what someone else was doing, I was able to focus on my own tasks. Like getting my word count higher on my new novel. Like researching what to do when an agent calls and oh, yea, HAVING A BABY (a 9 pound baby at that!).

I did get that call. And when I did, I was ready. And so was she. My worry had accomplished nothing. My peace did.

Now, when I am going to get that publishing contract?

Post Author: Charise Olson

Charise Olson writes contemporary women’s fiction. She likes to say she writes California Fiction. It’s like Southern Fiction, but without all that humidity. Her characters face serious life situations and cope with humor. Someone always has a smart mouth and Charise claims IM-plausibile deniability as to their origin. Charise is a mom to anyone needing mothering (whether they think they need it or not!) and owns two alpacas. Why alpacas? Because they were cheaper than a lawn mower. The menagerie also includes two dogs and two cats. In addition to her fiction writing and family, Charise has a paycheck career in social services and education.

December 28, 2011December 27, 2011

Deadlines: Slaying Medusa

I’ve been through a rough initiation to the reality of deadlines. In May, I learned that I needed to do a 60 to 70 percent rewrite of my second novel…in one month. My agent negotiated for an extra month, but that was all the wiggle room available. So I had eight weeks to write about 300 pages. In addition, I knew that the enormity of the second novel’s rewrite would affect the time I needed to write the third novel in my series. Altogether, I was looking at writing and editing about 600 to 700 pages in six to seven months, starting in June 2011 and ending January 1^st, 2012.

For some authors, this wouldn’t be too stressful. Many professional novelists turn out three or even four books a year.

For me, it felt like a death sentence. Given the pace at which I usually write and the research requirements for my novels, I knew that the unexpected impact of these deadlines would change my life drastically.

I wanted to run away, screaming and frothing at the mouth. It took every ounce of my willpower to accept the situation and begin the long, arduous, fearsome task ahead of me.

So here I am, three days from my deadline for my third novel. I have one chapter left to write.

I have officially survived the deadlines. And I feel like a warrior returning exhausted but victorious from a battle with some horrifying mythical creature .

For what it’s worth, here’s what I’ve learned.

We have nothing to fear but fear itself.

I’ve never felt such pure dread from a writing project as I did during the rewrite of my second novel. In grad school, I finished my papers two weeks early without breaking a sweat, and liked it! Even though my doctoral dissertation took a lot of thought and hard work, I never feared it or thought I couldn’t do it.

You know the pinprick of reluctance and fear that we writers sometimes feel when we face a blank page? Magnify that by one hundred, until it’s like a lance through the guts, and that’s how I felt for seven of the eight weeks of that novel rewrite.

At the same time, I knew that this crippling fear was my true enemy. If I could just live through it one hour at a time without hyperventilating, I could probably make it through the whole ordeal.

Deadlines are like Medusa: the mere sight of them can turn you to stone.

So don’t look directly at them, if you want to survive. Polish up your shield of faith and look only in its bright surface—let the deadline become a dim, hissing shadow while you hack off its head.

Does this metaphor seem too violent for the artistic, expressive act of novel writing? For me, that’s how it felt–like a raw struggle, nothing pretty or poetic to it, just sheer determination not to give in to the fear.

Tell me—have you ever faced this kind of overwhelming fear as a writer? What did you do to get through it?

December 27, 2011December 24, 2011

After the Glitter, Get Inspired

When the glitter settles, I often discover that my creativity has gravitated from the work place to family, friends, and holiday festivities. In other words, it goes into play mode. Christmas can leave me feeling unmotivated to return to the hard task of writing. When this happens, a pep talk is in order to remind the creative side of my brain that it loves writing. I find it helpful to think about a time when I was able to produce and convince myself that I’m capable of doing so again. I try to focus on the positive and not entertain negative thoughts or lingering distractions so that I can prepare the way for my inner writer to quicken.

I know that I must allow the left side of my brain (the logical or analytical side) to provide a safe uncluttered place for my creative right side to emerge.

In other words, I clean up the glitter. For me, it’s getting my hair done, putting away the Christmas decorations, and cleaning off my desk and workspace. I organize my desk and schedule and make necessary adjustments to reincorporate my writing time. I order a calendar for the upcoming year. I often need to re-prioritize my writing goals and ask, “What is my next step? What day and time will I begin?” I allow my left side to formulate a plan for my inner writer, rather like one friend spurring another to do something great.

With the glitter removed, I coax my right side to get back to my fiction writing.

I stoke the dim flickering desire by intentionally doing things that heat up the inspiration. I may read a book on writing, go to a writing blog, or connect with another writer. I dig out the inspirational quotes. If I’m lazy, I may read a novel or two. I think about my readers.

When my motivation intensifies, I know it’s time to get started.

Even if it doesn’t, when the designated appointment time arrives, I sit at my desk. It feels familiar like I’m coming home again. I begin by reading what I last wrote or looking over my plot outline. When my creative mind knows I mean business, it will emerge–sometimes slow and sulky and other times eager and crashing through the gates. My lips quirk into a smile and my fingers glide over the keyboard. It may feel rusty, but I know this isn’t the time for me to worry about perfection, but just be thankful that I’m writing again.

How do you go from glitter to inspired?

December 25, 2011December 21, 2011

A Gift for the Holidays – Part II

He’s offering the gift of grace. G – Guilty No More, R – Rest in Christ . . .

It’s much to absorb, and He hasn’t even spelled out the whole word. You hesitate. The Lord reaches in the box and pulls out the next letter, “A.” With trembling fingers you reach for it, running your thumb down its long, sleek sides.

“Accept my unconditional love,” He says. ” I stand before you with my arms open wide, longing to enfold you in them, but sometimes you duck your head and walk away. You let shame, guilt, or feelings of inadequacy keep you from Me. I have loved you with an everlasting love. ** Nothing you’ve ever done has made me regret that great love, and nothing can take it away.

“When I died on Calvary, I made it possible for us to be in close relationship. I washed your every misstep away in the river of my blood. There is nothing to separate us.” ***

You’re weeping freely now. He’s right. The Christian life is about Jesus and the righteousness He gives. You make it about your performance, causing both your pride and your guilt to keep you from His arms.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Jesus puts an arm around you. “Take the next letter.”

You reach into the box and hand Him the “C.” He lays it across your heart. “C is for Christ in you, dearest. I am your hope of glory. You try so hard to be good. Trust Me and let Me make you good. The good work I’ve begun in you will be completed. Stop striving. You are My masterpiece. Will I not finish it?” ****

The Lord reaches into the box for the last letter. You still weep silently, leaning your head against His shoulder.

“E is for Empowered. I am the One who empowers you to be all I’ve created you to be. Spiritual maturity isn’t chasing after good works or achieving your dreams. It isn’t being perfect. It is knowing Me and letting your life flow from our relationship.

“Let me empower you, dear one. I am the one who gives you the grace to accomplish all I ask of you.” *****

You nod. He hugs you and then kisses your cheek. As He walks away you finger each letter, His words echoing in your soul. You place the letters back into the box, one by one:

G – Guilty no more

R – Rest in Christ

A – Accept His unconditional love

C – Christ, the hope of glory

E – Empowered by His Spirit

You linger with the open box in your lap, breathing in the scent of grace. There is no greater gift.

How does his unconditional love change you? How is He your hope of glory? Where do you need His empowerment?

***Ephesians 2:13

****Philippians 1:6 & Ephesians 2:10 (NLT)

*****Philippians 4:13, 2 Timothy 3:17

December 24, 2011December 24, 2011

A Gift for the Holidays – Part I

Come.

Do you hear the Master calling?

There’s a twinkle in His eyes and a gift in His hands. Notice how the golden paper glistens with a metallic gleam. And don’t you just love the big, blood red bow?

A present. Just in time for the holidays.

Your Best Friend is excited about your gift. He’s done all the work—choosing what you need most, going to great sacrifice to procure it for you. All that’s left is for you to open it. Won’t you focus on Him and unwrap His gift?

You pull the red bow apart and lift the lid. You can’t see what’s inside, but you can smell it. It smells like lilacs and fresh cut grass and sunshine. You can feel the present, too. It’s solid as iron, soft as a baby’s cheek, and makes you warm all over. You can even hear your gift. One minute it swells with symphonic melody, the next it sings with the sweetness of a child. You can almost taste it on your tongue. It’s meat, potatoes, and vegetables—all that is solid and healthy—and it is also silky chocolate and all that is sweet.

“What is it?” You ask.

“It’s my grace.” He speaks with hushed voice, a tinge of emotion lacing His words.

You stare at the box. You’ve heard about grace before, but you’ve never really experienced it. Who knew grace had a smell, a feel, a taste?

He suggests you reach inside.

You pull out a “G” and frown.

Jesus chuckles. “G is for guilty no more. Too often you heap condemnation upon yourself. You are overwhelmed with your many tasks and feel guilty there’s dust on the mantle.

“But it goes deeper. You beat yourself up for faults and failures I’ve erased from your record. I’ve already forgotten them. There’s no need to be angry with yourself. I gave my life so you could live without condemnation. You are guilty no more. If you don’t believe me, read Romans 8:1. Read it a thousand times and tape it on your bathroom mirror. Live as you are, my dear: Free from condemnation.”

You have a big lump in your throat and since you can’t talk, you reach back into the box. The letter “R” is in your hand.

The Lord gently lifts your face to his. “R is for Rest in Me. Come to Me when you labor and are heavy-laden and overburdened, and I will cause you to rest. I will ease and relieve and refresh your soul.” *

“It’s hard to rest,” You say.

Jesus tilts his head. “Think about a nursing baby—how a mother cradles him in her arms, and he nuzzles to her breast. He is nourished, body and soul. As he’s fed he never takes his eyes off of his mother, gazing with complete satisfaction, trust, and peace. Rest in me as that baby rests. I will nourish you. I will lead and comfort you.”

Your eyes are glued to the Master, hungry to believe all He is saying, but there is hesitancy, a fear you don’t deserve to rest.

My Child, did the baby do anything to earn love?”

You shake your head. “He could do nothing to help his mother.”

“In the same way, I don’t expect you to earn My love or the right to rest. I simply come and say, ‘Are you tired? Let me help you. Are you burdened? Let me carry it.’”

Little tears gather in your eyes as you listen to Him. There’s still more to discover. You peer into the gift box.

What special ways do you embrace His grace?

*Matthew 11:28 (AMP)

December 21, 2011December 21, 2011

Settling the Score in 2012

measuring tape_D Sharon Pruit — Photo: D Sharon Pruit

Like lots of writers, I’m goal-driven. Each December I reflect on what I’ve accomplished the past year and what I still want to achieve. I’m not talking New Year’s Resolutions here; my WordServe colleague covered that quite brilliantly here. I’m talking about taking a good hard look at where I currently stack up against where I want to be.

When I started writing, I decided if I did one thing—no matter how small—every day to move toward my goal, I was doing okay. That worked for a while. I sold a couple of novels, completed several new manuscripts and got an agent—all aspirations I’d set out to achieve. Then something changed. People were measuring success in the social media space in a quantifiable, new way.

I knew social media was important for author promotion, so I increased my focus there. I expanded my social networking channels, reached out to make new contacts and endeavored to add relevant content wherever I participated. Eventually, I fell into a nice rhythm, and I’d thought I reached some moderate success.

Until, I discovered Klout.

I understand the importance of measuring the benefit of action against the time (or money) spent taking that action. Klout measures influence based on ability to drive action through social networks. As authors, we want people to engage with us, and we want them to read our books. So, off I went to Klout, armed with the warm-fuzzy I was already doing okay. I signed into my various latest-and-greatest social networks, then eagerly awaited my score.

It came back: twenty. Let me put that into perspective. An average score for someone dabbling in social media at that time was around 22. I had spent the year ramping up my social media presence and was still decidedly below average. The cat-lady next door probably had a higher Klout score than mine. Dismal didn’t begin to describe how I felt.

Being goal-oriented, I’m not one to wallow in my misery, so I looked up people with Klout scores I admired and tried to emulate them. Ten+ tweets a day? Eesh, but if it will make a difference, okay. Post more Facebook content people are likely to like, comment on or share? Let me just dust off my crystal ball…check. I can do that! Get more mentions on Twitter? No clue, but maybe if I tweet more it will help. And it couldn’t hurt to blog more…micro-blog more…get more followers…make more friends…post better content…be more interesting…put more out there…respond more to other people’s stuff…who said less is more? More is more!

I adjusted my program, then went back to check my score. It was now a bright, shiny…24? Still not good enough. I continued to make tweaks and check to see if anything I did made a difference. When someone reblogged my content, what did that do to my score? When they commented on my links, how did that help? What if I un-followed a bunch of inactive Twitter accounts, did that do anything? One day I thought I’d hit on something when my Klout score jumped to the high-thirties, but then I figured out they changed their algorithms and lots of scores had gone up by 10 or more without any outside effort whatsoever.

Then it dawned on me, if Klout can tweak their so-called measuring stick, why can’t I? Who really cared about my score anyway? Would an editor not buy my novel if my score wasn’t high enough? Would my agent drop me if my True Reach wasn’t up to snuff? Would my Yahoo groups cringe to be seen with me? Would my Tumblr pals run away like one of their clever little gifs? Would I never sell another book again?

I’m guessing the answer to most of the above is ‘no’ with the exception of that last one, because if I didn’t stop obsessing about moving my Klout score, I was never going to make time to finish another book again. Ever.

As I look forward to 2012 and set some writerly-type goals, I’ll continue to include author promotion among them, but I’ll be careful what I use to measure my success. Even though Klout is interesting and a great validation for some, I already know it’ll no longer be my personal yardstick.

The only numbers I want to obsess over this year are word count, the number of pages I’ve edited, and possibly the number of adverbs I remove from my first drafts. I may even go back to my old adage: what have I done today to further my writing career? I’ll stretch myself to improve my writing—to dig deeper for character development, to toss out clichés and to make my dialogue sing. I’ll remember why I joined social media to begin with: to interact with friends, readers and other writers.

And when I look back this time next year, I hope I’ll be able to carve another notch in the old doorframe and celebrate 2012 knowing how much I’ve really grown.

What about you? How are you measuring success against your goals?

December 20, 2011December 19, 2011

Holy Deadline, Batman!

Back in November, I received an e-mail from my editor.

My FIRST editorial letter. I was giddy with excitement!

A little while later, she sent a follow up e-mail noting my FIRST deadline of 12/16/11.

Again, excitement bubbled out of this newly contracted debut author! A deadline! And it wasn’t so scary… all those silly published authors who complained about being “on deadline” were going to eat my socks, because I was going to make my deadline and triumph.

That said, I KNEW that someday I’d have that pit-in-stomach at the dreaded deadline. But not now. This was a fun “first” and I was determined to enjoy it!

Then I read my wonderful first (16 page long!) editorial letter. The word “overhaul” was used at least once. That is enough to put fear into the heart of ANY debut author!

I looked back at my deadline and cried.

Then pulled my bootstraps up to my armpits and dug in. For the first week or two, I determined to be organized about my massive rewrite/edit that was going to be needed. I made sticky notes, printed out the edits and manuscript and started to carefully plot a plan.

Then Thanksgiving happened. Read: First time making a turkey for my extended family of 17, at MY house, while my 4 kids were off school. So there blew a whole week.

When I came out of my turkey and Black Friday enduced fog, reality slapped me in the face.

My deadline was fast approaching, and I was still in my planning stages. And I had presents to purchase. Weekends filling up. Doctor and therapy appointments for my special-needs daughter coming out my ears.

I’m here to tell you:

DEADLINES IN DECEMBER STINK!

I tried. I really really did. My house resembles a warzone as I haven’t cleaned it in about two weeks.

I’ve made frozen pizza and frozen waffles for dinner WAY too much.

I made my daughter dig through the dirty laundry on at least two occassions for jeans to wear to school as I had edited instead of doing laundry.

And when I DID do said laundry, folding it was not in the cards. It laid heaped in a large pile covering half of my bedroom floor for a week, and kids were required to dig through it for school clothes. You think I’m exaggerating. I am not.

Deadline-Eve came. And I was still a good ways from being done, and not pleased about the work I had done, mostly because I was in “hurry” mode instead of “quality” mode. So I did the one thing I had refused to allow enter my brain.

I e-mailed my agent and told her how much I hate December deadlines and that if I turned this in on the 16th, it’d royally sucked.

She in turn got me a couple day extension.

So now, today is my NEW deadline. And as I got through the final read through, I fully plan to push send later today and meet my revised deadline.

I am officially a humbled, thankful debut author. Never again will I look at deadlines the same!

Now, I have to go finish my edits. Wish me luck!

December 19, 2011December 19, 2011

Rejection!

Rejection is an ugly word, especially to a writer. But we need to keep it in perspective.

To help you put rejection into perspective, I’d like to discuss my shoes.

I have a pair of lovely leather shoes. I really like my shoes. They are stylish, look good with many types of clothing, and are comfortable to wear for many hours. I love, love, love my shoes.

A few months ago, I noticed my shoes were beginning to look worn out and were no longer attractive to wear with dress pants. I thought about purchasing another pair of shoes, and then I had the bright idea to bring them to a shoe repairman. The repairman put new heels on my shoes, polished the leather, and blackened the soles. After some effort and work, my leather shoes are spiffed up and look as good as new.

Now, if I offered my shoes to someone and they don’t love them like I do, should I be heartbroken? Does their rejection of my shoes make me less of a person? Does it make my shoes less attractive? Does it make me less worthy?

Think about it, I bet my shoes wouldn’t fit just anyone. They wouldn’t be right for a number of people with different tastes and different needs. But that doesn’t make my shoes less valuable or less worthy.

That’s the way I look at rejection. My manuscript (shoes) is polished and ready to go out into the world. But perhaps the agent/editor (consumer) needs a different size or is looking for a different style. It’s easy to look at the situation from this perspective and see that it’s not always personal when your manuscript (shoes) is rejected! Sometimes the rejection is not about the story or craft but for other reasons, some of them simply being reasons of timing.

Rejection is an ugly word, especially to a writer. But we need to keep it in perspective. If we’ve been gifted/called to write, then we should keep writing and polishing our manuscripts. After all, many successful writers have suffered rejection.

Now that you’ve gotten the fear of rejection out of your mind, put your new confidence to the test by planning to attend a writer’s conference this year. Many writers will testify that their career got on the fast track after they attended their first conference. You meet other writers, editors, agents, and learn about the craft and the industry at conferences. Your competence and enthusiasm for your writing gets a great boost by attending conferences.

Don’t stress about rejection, keep moving forward in your career.

How do you shrug off rejection? How do you keep it in perspective?

December 17, 2011December 17, 2011

The Accidental Collaborator

I never intended to be a collaborator.

For the record, my plan was to be a wildly successful, insanely rich novelist. People were going to mention me in hushed, awestruck tones along with other “last name only” fiction writers. You know: Peretti, Dekker, Grisham, Koontz, King, Pence.

I broke into book publishing in 2001 by writing computer books. In 2003, my dream was fulfilled. I was a published—and soon to be famous—novelist. By 2005, (despite excellent reviews) my “career” had pretty much ground to a halt. In fact, in May of that year I hung up my keyboard and joined the prison ministry staff of a large Dallas mega-church, feeling that my grand experiment in full-time freelance writing was a failure.

God had other plans.

James H. Pence and Terry Caffey, ministering together in Moss Bluff, Louisiana.

In my last post, (Oct. 1, “You Never Know”), I told the story of how God took a single page from my out-of-print novel Blind Sight and used it to change the life of Terry Caffey, a man whose family was brutally murdered. God not only used that page to change Terry’s life; He also used it to change the entire direction of my writing.

In January of 2009, Terry asked me to help him write a book that would tell his story.

I hadn’t written or published in four years and, as I already mentioned, collaboration was not in my long-term plans. However, because I wanted to encourage Terry, I agreed to help him write a book proposal.

Because of the intense media interest in Terry’s story, Tyndale snapped up the proposal and put the book on an accelerated publication schedule. We signed a contract in March of ’09 and the book was set for a September release.

I had to write it in twelve weeks.

The accelerated writing schedule was probably a good thing because I didn’t have the time to give in to sheer panic. I’d never collaborated before, and I had no earthly idea how to go about it. But it was a door that God had opened, and so I trusted Him for the wisdom.

I dusted off my little digital voice recorder and began interviewing Terry. Then I worked at outlining the book, selecting the stories that would go into it, even using my fiction-writing skills to lay out a plot-line.

As I worked with Terry and wrote what would become Terror by Night, I began to notice something unexpected.

I was enjoying myself immensely.

I love telling stories, but I had no idea how much I would enjoy helping other people tell their stories.

And so now I happily call myself a collaborator. I spent most of 2011 writing a book about Nate Lytle, a young surfer who made a miraculous recovery from a massive traumatic brain injury. I also collaborated on a novella with bestselling author Stephen Arterburn. And I’ve got proposals in the works for two more collaborations, one fiction and the other nonfiction.

I never intended to be a collaborator.

But God led me through an unexpected door and down an unplanned path. And in doing so, He changed the direction of my writing ministry.

Has God placed some unexpected doors or unplanned paths before you? I hope that in 2012 you’ll take a chance and go through them.

You never know what God might do.

“A person plans his course,but the Lord directshis steps,” (Proverbs 16:9, NET Bible).

December 16, 2011December 15, 2011

7 Ways to Do Book Dedications

Ever since I imagined writing a book I imagined my dedication page. I’m not talking about the acknowledgements page where you thank everyone who ever helped you; I’m talking about that mostly blank page tucked in the beginning of a book, after the title page and publishing credits.

Many people give a clear dedication to a spouse for all his or her longsuffering, but some book dedications are cryptic — they proclaim a public thanks while alluding to stories more interesting than the book itself.

I am fascinated with the topic of book dedications because there is always a story behind the story. There’s a reason the author wrote the book in the first place, and there is often intrigue behind the dedication — a story or relationship we may never know. Here are seven examples of book dedictations:

Loving

A.A. Milne’s dedication to his wife in Winnie the Pooh:

To her – Hand in hand we come Christopher Robin and I, To lay this book in your lap. Say you’re surprised? Say you like it? Say it’s just what you wanted? Because it’s yours — because we love you.

Curious

Betty MacDonald to her sister in The Egg and I

To my sister, who always believed that I can do anything she puts her mind to.

Striving

John Steinbeck to his friend Pascal “Pat” Covici. As Steinbeck wrote Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters, he often mentioned the things he was tinkering with or building around the house. At one point, Pat asked Steinbeck to make him a box; Steinbeck joked that the only specification was that Pat shouldn’t be able to fit inside it. When Steinbeck finished East of Eden, he placed his 250,000 word manuscript into a mahogany box he had carved and sent it to Pat. The note he placed on top became the dedication page of the novel.

Dear Pat,  You came upon me carving some kind of little figure out of wood and you said, ‘Why don’t you make something for me?’  I asked you what you wanted, and you said, ‘A box.’ ‘What for?’ ‘To put things in.’ ‘What kind of things?’ ‘Whatever you have,’ you said.  Well, here’s your box. Nearly everything I have is in it, and it is not full. Pain and excitement are in it, and feeling good or bad and evil thoughts and good thoughts – the pleasure of design and some despair and the indescribable joy of creation.  And on top of these are all the gratitude and love I have for you.  And still the box is not full.

Funny

Random blogger to actor Colin Firth in her future, hoped for book

Thanks for playing Mr. Darcy, and for wearing that white shirt in the lake scene.

Touching

J.K. Rowling to Sean PF Harris (the first of her friends to learn to drive and the first with whom she discussed her ambition to be a writer) in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

For Sean PF Harris, getaway driver and foul weather friend

Sentimental

C. S. Lewis to his God-daughter Lucy Barfield (age 12 when he began the writing the book and age 15 when it was finally released) in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe

My dear Lucy, I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again. You can then take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think of it. I shall probably be too deaf to hear, and too old to understand a word you say, but I shall still be your affectionate Godfather

Predictable

Dave Cullen to those injured and killed in Columbine