Birthday Contest!

Guess what day it is today?!? The birthday of my very first novel! How exciting is that? I'd sing, but you wouldn't hear me anyway, so instead of baking a cake and doing all the other regular birthday stuff, I'm going to give away some books. I'll send a signed copy of After the Leaves Fall to two people who leave a comment on this post. On Tuesday (Sept. 9), I'll randomly draw two names to win a copy of a book that happens to be a very good fall read... I love reading novels that coincide with the season I'm in. And in many ways Leaves is like a pumpkin spice candle--it just goes with the crisp air, colorful leaves, and soft fall wind. Anyway, good luck to you!

Wine Tour, Take II

Well, today my Big Boy is officially a preschooler. I dropped him off this morning, prepared for an emotional display and a little mommy-clinging. Uh, no. We were two feet in the door when my sweet son took off without even saying goodbye. I did a pathetic lunge and tried to catch him for one last hug, but he shrugged me off. Can you believe it? My four and a half year old is a fully functioning (not to mention independent) human being. The nerve. I pined for him all morning, but when he came home at lunchtime, it was obvious he hadn't given me a second thought. Everything was "Cody-this" and "Cody-that"... Apparently my Big Boy has a new friend. Although, I guess I can't claim that this yet-to-be-seen young man has usurped my role in my son's life. Sadly, it has never been "Mommy-this" and "Mommy-that" around our house. Oh well, who am I kidding? I want my son to be happy, well-adjusted, normal, etc. I guess this is just one more small step in his maturation.

Anyway, in an effort to get my mind off my ever-changing life, I'm going to post a few more wine tour pics. I consider the Okanagan my "happy place" right now. He-he-he!

This is the view from the second-story deck of our fabulous bed and breakfast, Okanagan Oasis. The little patio with the grass umbrellas is where we enjoyed our first bottle of Okanagan wine. Then we went for a swim in the heated salt-water pool, and out for supper on a dock over the lake. Amazing.

Here I am with my beautiful mom right before our Mission Hills viticulture tour. Everything at Mission Hills was very well cared for and lush.

Sampling the fare... :) I believe this was the Cabernet Franc. Yum.

A view of the amazing cellars at Mission Hills. This particular cellar is a cave that was blasted out of the side of the mountain that the winery is perched atop. It was spectacular.

Wine Tour, Take I

Sorry it's been so dull around here lately. A two-week vacation always seems to take longer than two weeks... Between the packing, traveling, packing again, traveling again, unpacking, and clean up, the days just seem to disappear. But the Baart family is finally settled at home and life is more or less normal. If you can call my Big Boy going off to preschool next week "normal." (Brief pause to wipe slobbery, pathetic mommy tear.) Any-hoo, you don't give a rip about the trivialities of my life, so I'll stop babbling and get to the good stuff.

Where to begin...? Though our two weeks in BC were filled with family, friends, and a beautiful wedding, we did manage to squeeze a three day trip in to the Okanagan. This region is about a four hour drive east of Vancouver, through some of the most beautiful mountain country you'll ever see. As you near Canada's only desert, the topography undergoes some dramatic changes: it seems like one moment you're driving through a coastal rainforest, and the next you can imagine the hiss of rattlesnakes just over the sandy ridge. It's breathtaking.

Why the Okanagan? Well, partly because it's our favorite vacation destination, but mostly because my next book, All the Places Between, is primarily set there. The backdrop for the book is a small, family owned estate and vineyard called Thompson Hills. Though the book deals with suicide, mental illness, relationships, and revenge, wine plays an integral part in the storytelling. And I just had to do some research.

Over the course of three days we visited several vineyards, including the world-renowned Mission Hills and the lesser known Tinhorn Creek. Mission Hills crafts some of my favorite wines, and it was absolutely inspiring to spend time touring their grounds and visiting their spectacular cellar. As for Tinhorn Creek, it deserves the distinction of being the very first winery I ever visited (and the place I began to really fall in love with wine). I toured Tinhorn for the first time over six years ago and was enchanted by the picturesque winery. My memories of Tinhorn served me well as I was writing All the Places Between.

Anyway, I don't feel like I'm doing a very good job of articulating myself. I'm still tired, and a little off from traveling, so for now I'll just leave you with some pictures. Enjoy.

A lovely little bunch of Cabernet Franc graps at Tinhorn Creek.

The remains of salmon with red pepper remoulade and a blackberry and goat cheese salad. We had a flight of white wines to complement the meal, starting with a soft, buttery Chardonnay and ending with a Pinot Gris.

Here we are in front of Tinhorn Creek. The tasting room overlooks the show vineyards and the valley below. It's so gorgeous.

I just loved the look of the vines...

Too busy to write...

Well, it's been a busy week to say the least. After a fifteen hour trip, we finally made it to my in-laws' lovely home in Surrey, BC. We spent one night there, then headed out to the valley for a wedding and some time with our siblings. Next it was off to the Okanagan for a quick, three-day wine tour extravaganza. Wow. I took nearly two hundred pictures and sampled some of the best wine I've ever tasted. When I get my thoughts and photos organized I'll be sure to put together some posts. But, to be frank, right now I'm too busy and having too much fun to worry about blogging. Until I have time to write more, I encourage you to check out an interview on TitleTrakk. Apparently, I'm the featured author interview this week. Cool.

Cheers.

On Vacation!

Today is the last day of "normal" summer for me. It's my last day of plant watering, pool playing, and backyard barbecuing. Depressing, isn't it? Not really, since the rest of our summer is going to be spent in British Columbia! Yay! We're going home (well, we're going to our second home), and I can't wait.

My husband was born in the Vancouver area, and we lived there for several years after we were married (while he was in grad school). The city is gorgeous and there is so much to do. We love strolling Robson Street, taking the False Creek ferry to the Lonsdale Quay, shopping on Granville Island, and attending Bard on the Beach.

Another favorite summer destination is White Rock, just north of the US/Canadian border. There are great little restaurants with outdoor patios, a nice beach, and a long pier where you can admire the sailboats and profusion of purple starfish on the rocks.

When we lived in BC we made a point of going to the Okanagan every summer. The Okanagan is wine country and Canada's only desert. It's hot and dry, and the fresh fruit can't be beat. Sadly, it's been many years since we've been able to make the three hour drive from the coast to the interior. But this year we're taking a mini-vacation to Peachland and Osoyoos. Since All the Places Between is set primarily in this region in BC, I really wanted to travel back there and make sure all my memories matched reality.

Well, that's what I'll be up to for the rest of the month. I'll try to blog from BC when I can, and you can bet I'll take tons of pictures in the Okanagan. I'd love for you to be able to see the setting of my next book. In the meantime, blessings to you! Enjoy the rest of your summer!

Edits

It's Monday afternoon and I am officially exhausted. And the week has just begun--what's my problem? It could have something to do with the fact that it's cool and overcast today (fall weather already?), but more likely, my eyes are tired and my brain is fried from working on edits for my third book (tentatively titled All the Places Between--what do you think?). Hooray! I'm firmly entrenched in the editorial process!

Believe it or not, I love editing. Right now I have spread out beside me all 407 pages, 115,438 words of my manuscript. And it's covered in handwritten comments, post-it notes, and suggestions. Most of the time, I find the observations spot-on and helpful. Since I want this book to be the best it can possibly be, I'm more than willing to iron out every wrinkle I can. But deciphering the notes isn't always easy (I just read: "Catholics are hot, big Bible readers," and stared cross-eyed at the page until I realized the comment was actually "Catholics are not big Bible readers." He-he-he!), and sometimes I feel like untangling the story lines to get at the heart of the matter is dizzingly difficult. Difficult, but very rewarding. I love doing it.

Anyway, back to edits for now. I leave on vacation soon so I want to get as much done as possible before we jet off to BC. I'll keep you updated.

Gen Y

If you've spent any time browsing my blog, you know that I've written before about postmoderism and how it affects my writing. I think it's impossible to grow up as a part of a generation and not be shaped by the cultural aura of the time. In fact, I sometimes feel that boomers don't always "get" what I'm writing about because they were born and raised in an era that felt and acted totally different from the era in which I was born and raised. Sometimes I can't help but find it overwhelming that we not only have to hurdle racial, ethnic, and gender divides, we also have to worry about generational issues. It's enough to give a girl a headache.

But before I get too philosophical, I thought I'd share a cartoon to start off your weekend with a laugh. FYI, in case you didn't know, here is where you fit:

The Silent generation, people born before 1945

The Baby Boomers, people born between 1945 and 1961

Generation X, people born between 1962 and 1976

Generation Y, people born between 1977 and 1989

If you're wondering, I'm Gen Y. Though I will say that there was never a time in my life when I considered myself young enough or cute enough to get by with jeans that showed as much as some girls like to flaunt. I guess I was one of the Gen Y prudes. :)

Makes me wonder, where do you fit? And, if you're X or Y (or later!) did your beltline ever creep so low???

Have a great weekend!

TV Faves

I was bumming in front of the TV last night when it occured to me that if the films I watch influence my writing, maybe the television shows I tune into have to say something, too. Maybe my TV choices have even more to say about what I write because I flip on the cable so very rarely. Aaron and I went without a television altogether for two and a half years before the Canucks had a legitimate shot at the Stanley Cup and we had to jump on the digital bandwagon and get ourselves a station that actually aired hockey in the US. In that TVless time I lost all interest in it. But it's coming back to me now... slowly.

So, I want to explore this a bit. What are my favorite television shows?

Like most of the rest of North America, I just love The Office. It's so awkward it makes me cringe, and that's why I can't get enough. The characters are spot-on and the humor is just my style.

I discovered Scrubs in syndication when I was channel-surfing during advertisements as I watched The Daily Show. Okay, I'm way behind this particular bandwagon, but this show is laugh-out-loud funny. And yet, there's a real vulnerability to it. I love how deep the characters go when you scratch past the quirky surface.

Corner Gas was another find while channel surfing (it airs the same time as The Colbert Report, another staple in our house). It's a Canadian sitcom about a gas station in Dog Prairie, a tiny town in the middle of nowhere (i.e. Saskatchewan). It feels like one of the old-timers, those classic sitcoms that were gripping and funny before reality TV came along and made everything uncomfortably real.

Okay, now we're getting to the nitty-gritty. When the Baart household reinstated our TV, the only thing we watched for months on end was The Daily Show. Half an hour of television to unwind before bed. Jon Stewart cracks me up. I laugh so hard I nearly fall off the couch. Believe it or not, that's not an exaggeration.

And then came The Colbert Report. Steven Colbert is a crack-up, too, though not quite as funny in my books as Jon Stewart. Except, of course, when he's doing "Better Know a District." If you're reading this Steven (ha-ha) please do more "Better Know a District" segments! Oh, and I forgive you for bashing Canton, SD last night, even though I feel an affinity for the town because I've passed through it countless times. Maybe they'll retaliate on CNN like Canton, Kansas did. Here's hoping.

Well, there you have it. My top five TV picks. Do they say anything about my writing? Hmmm... I think definitely not. More than anything, I believe these shows reveal a deep, inner desire to UNWIND when the day is done. To laugh, not think. Works for me.

Movie Faves

A web loop that I belong to has just asked the question: What are your five favorite movies and what do they say (if anything) about your writing? Fascinating question, I think. Especially since I love a good movie. So, off the top of my head (that was one of the stipulations: don't give it too much thought) here are five of my favorite movies.

Memento is the very first movie that comes to mind when I think of my favorites. It's a little dark, a lot disturbing, and breathtakingly original. When the final credits began to roll, I was literally on my feet yelling at the television. I wanted to start back over at the beginning and see it all again. All I can say is: Wow.

I'm also a huge fan of A Love Song for Bobby Long. It's an independent film starring John Travolta and Scarlett Johanssen that is set in New Orleans (pre-Katrina). The film is visual poetry and the soundtrack is one of my favorites ever. Best of all, the characters are flawed and real, the perfect mix of lovable and loathable.

Next comes Juno, a more recent fave. So witty I laughed out loud throughout the whole movie. I wax more poetic about Juno in this post if you feel like checking it out.

Crash is absolutely a must-see movie. I wept through this film, mourning the misunderstandings and reveling in the every day grace it presented. It broke my heart a dozen times over, but gave me real hope, too.

The final film I want to talk about is Love Actually. I know most people watch The Miracle on Such-and-Such Street (I can't even remember the title!) or It's a Wonderful Life at Christmastime, but Aaron and I break out this British comedy. It's gorgeous and hilarious and a movie I'm sure we'll revisit over and over again. Though it's not for the faint of heart (language and brief nudity), it is truly sweet and hopelessly endearing even though it deals with difficult subject matter (the death of a spouse, an affair, etc.).

So... Do these movies say anything about my writing (or what I hope my writing to be)? I think absolutely.

The first thing that ties all these films together is their inherently poetic nature. There is something raw and elemental in each of them that makes me long to savor certain lines one at a time. Or certain scenes, gestures, or frames. Though I don't think I acheive this to the desire that I would someday like to, I hope that my writing contains elements of that which I love in these movies: moments of pure poetry that make my readers want to stop and reread a part that spoke truth to them.

Second, I love how real these movies are. They speak to deep longings that most (if not all) people can relate to on a very human level. Love and hate, prejudice, anger, jealousy, greed... All of it is laid bare in these movies. And though we are watching characters on a screen, there is something inside of us that resonates with their joy and pain. We understand, even if we don't want to. I long to write stories like that.

Finally, these stories are all told in a powerful and unique way. Whether it's a strong female character narrating the movie as only she could (Juno) or a backwards chronology (Memento) or a fragmented patchwork of interweaving plotlines (Crash and Love Actually), the way in which the story is told is utterly gripping. Someone once told me: "Just tell the story and get out of the way!" I'm afraid I disagree with that. To me, the person (or people) who is (are) telling the story is just as important as the story itself. Don't agree with me? Visit my Grandma for a coffee and a chat--I promise, by the time your cookie is gone, you'll be completely in love with her but probably clueless as to what in the world she's talking about. When it comes to her, it's all in the telling. Of course, I want to tell a good story, but I also want to tell it well. Hmmm... suddenly I'm in the mood for a good movie. Any suggestions?

Bad Review

After the Leaves Fall has been in bookstores for nearly eleven months now. And the shelf life of Summer Snow is somewhere around three months. It's been a fun year to say the least, and so far I've been very blessed by lots of positive feedback and encouragement. Publishing a book has been a dream come true!

Until this week. Da-da-da-dum. Cue the violins. This week (*gasp*) I received (*sniffle*) my first (or, at least, the first that I know of) bad review (oh the horrors). Ahhhh!!!

Okay, enough melodrama. I knew this was coming. Every author gets bad reviews. So, how does a new author deal with a crappy analysis of her blood, sweat, and tears hard work??? This author blogs about it apparently.

What did my unimpressed reviewer have to say about Summer Snow? Well, he found my characters "stereotypical" and "close to being unconvincing." He also didn't think my story was original and he figured he knew exactly what was going to happen throughout the rest of the book by the end of the first few chapters. Bummer. Thankfully, he was "slightly impressed with the quality of the writing." Hey, that's better than nothing.

I have to admit that some of his opinions stung. How could they not? I think that anytime you pour yourself into a work of your hands (or your mind or your heart) you expose a very private, vulnerable part of yourself. And then people get to walk by and analyze it--and you. Yeeps.

But in spite of my slightly battered feelings, I know that there is much I can learn from my icky review. Lesson #1: Not everyone is going to love my stuff. I'm okay with that. I don't love everything I read either. Lesson #2: There may be hard truths to uncover in the midst of a bad review. Though I'd love my first two books to be perfect, I know that I have much to learn about the craft of writing. I need to be encouraged by the good people have to say, and search for wisdom and advice in the bad. Lesson #3: I can't take myself so seriously. 'Nuff said. Lesson #4: I need to remember that I write for an audience of one. It's easy to get caught up in what people say or don't say about my books... But writing for me was never about what other people thought. For twenty years I wrote for no one but myself and God. Volumes of poetry, short stories, character sketches, you name it. And I was happy and fulfilled because my writing was an act of worship. Summer Snow was an act of worship. Writing it was a beautiful, holy experience. That's enough for me.

Hmmm... I guess I owe you a thank you, Mr. Bad Review. :)

Explosive

So I'm researching tanker explosions for my next novel. How's that for an opening blog line? Mmmm... tanker explosions. Very interesting. Or not. Does the premise of a tanker explosion make you want to read book #4? :)

You may or may not remember this, but a year ago our small town experienced what could have been a major disaster. (You can read the original post here.) A semi driver was pumping ethanol from a train car into his eighteen-wheeler when a spark of static from his shirt ignited the gas fumes. Within seconds, the entire tanker was engulfed in flames and moments later a series of explosions rocked the town. 2,000 people were evacuated from their homes as fire crews worked to prevent the remaining tankers from exploding. Scary stuff. Anyway, back then I remember thinking: this would make a great story! And look at me now: it's a year later and this incident is finding it's way into my fourth book. Though I have other ideas for books, this is the one that is gripping me now--I have to write it.

So far, I can't believe what I'm learning. Who knew ethanol production was so dangerous? In the little research I've done, I've been shocked by the amount of explosions at both ethanol plants and throughout the distribution process. Apparently the politics of ethanol production extends beyond it's arguable status as a "green" energy source. Yeeps. I just wanted to write a good book, not a political manifesto... Maybe I should have a tornado hit the town instead. Is a natural disaster less potentially offensive?

Nah, I think I'll keep researching. Hopefully my "worst case scenario" plot will exist only on paper and never in real life. Though the towns that experienced what you see below are probably thinking the same thing I am: what about next time???

ICRS Fun

Okay, so I tackled serious stuff in my last post about ICRS, now I'll write about something fun.

The last night that I was in Orlando, Tyndale hosted an Author Appreciation Dinner at Epcot. It was so much fun! We had a banquet in the Great Hall of China, replete with Chinese food, incredible acrobats (I was so terrified that they were going to fall I could hardly watch), and wonderful conversation. After supper we enjoyed a dessert buffet of chocolate mousse and all the toppings. (Great idea for summer entertaining, by the way. They set it up like an ice cream bar--we scooped mousse into waffle cones and topped it with nuts, chocolate shavings, sprinkles, cherries, the works.) Then we walked to an outdoor plaza and watched the fireworks show over the lake. I felt like a little kid! And if you know me at all, you know that I love feeling like a kid.

Anyway, I'm so humbled and grateful to be a part of Tyndale! I love this company and the people in it. They certainly didn't have to throw a banquet to make me feel appreciated, but it was a wonderful evening even if I did feel very spoiled.


Here's a photo of our table. I'm afraid I had to steal it from Angela Hunt because although I took my camera to Epcot, I was dumb enough to forget to take pictures. Anyway, I'm second from the left between my lovely editor, Stephanie, and Francine Rivers. Isn't the table decor pretty? The orchids were real. I love orchids...

More ICRS

I promised I'd write more about ICRS, and here I am forgetting about it already. It feels like Florida is months away, not mere days. And I haven't even been home a week! If I have mommy-brain this bad after two kids, can you imagine me after more? I once thought I was destined to be the mother of six. Six. I must have been insane in another life.

Anyway, on to the show. I could tell you about people I met, food I ate, and things I did, but what kept me up at night was the whole concept of a Christian market and my place in it. More to the point: I was struck by the discrepency between what seemed to be two camps of thinking. I'm not really sure how to classify them, but they felt distinct to me. Maybe the line is drawn between products that are inward-directed (books, music, etc. by Christians and specifically for Christians) and outward-directed (books, music, etc. by Christians for a larger audience). Maybe it comes down to a generational divide: Boomers vs. Gen-Xers (Gen-Y? I think I'm Gen-Y...). Whatever the distinction, it got me wondering: Am I meant to be a CBA (Christian Booksellers Association) author? Do I even fit in this market?

I don't want to imply that Christian fiction is prescriptive--though it may have been at one time, there are so many authors out there right now who are writing honest, edgy (I hate that word but can't think of a better one) books that blur the lines between secular and traditionally Christian fiction. But I'm not necessarily convinced that the Christian market is totally ready for it...

Case in point: I have received several emails from people saying that After the Leaves Fall and Summer Snow were not hopeful enough. They wanted a happier ending, a more dramatic (and complete) conversion, and more resolution to issues that I intentionally left unfinished. The tenor of my writing makes sense to me--the kind of books that I read are Amy Bloom's Away (breathtaking, by the way, in spite of being bleak), Kiran Desai's The Inheritance of Loss (didn't like that one as much, even though the title clued me in to exactly what the book would be), and Carol Sheild's Unless (yet another self-disclosing title). And they think my books aren't hopeful enough?!? :) But honestly, I can see where these readers are coming from. If you pick up one of my books expecting to encounter the same happily-ever-after ending that most CBA fiction is known for, your not going to find it. So... Am I a disappointment to CBA readers? Are my books a let-down because my readers want everything to be peachy in the end?

Of course, on the other hand I have also received numerous emails from people saying that my books were a breath of fresh air, something they could totally relate to because their own lives aren't the proverbial "bowl of cherries."

Who's right? Both? Neither? I guess the bottom line for me is, I felt like a bit of a stranger in a strange land at times during the convention. Almost apologetic: Here's my book, but I'm not sure you'll like it as I can see you're clutching an armload of homespun romances that lean more towards the escapist side of literature... Maybe I'd be a better fit in a secular market. But then again, I'm sure they'd think I was too Christian.

Maybe we need a new market altogether. A sort of evolving genre that captures the postmodern movement of our generation while embracing the hope and beauty of an unmistakably grace-filled life. An emergent-genre maybe, like the emergent church. Hmmm. I could get into that, I think. But since I'm not going to start my own publishing house, I guess the best I can do is keep writing what I write and hope that the people who were meant to read my stuff will find it--even if it's not quite Christian fiction, not quite Women's, not quite Literary, not quite Secular... I just hope it makes sense to somebody.

At Fault

I hurt a friend today. Doesn’t that suck? I’m not sure there is anything quite so agonizing as knowing that you have upset someone you love. My offense was unintentional--a result of my own inability to manage my life and my time--but I don’t think that the thoughtless nature of my transgression lessened her distress any.

Thankfully, she called me on it and we were able to talk. I’m usually a pretty straightforward person (past friends have told me that I handle tense situations more like a guy--deal with it then forget it) so I didn’t have any trouble trying to communicate my deep regret at the fact that I trampled her feelings. But I can’t help wondering if she would have understood me better if I struggled. If I cried. The truth is: I can’t eat, I can’t sit still, and I can’t think about anything else. I’m afraid I’m effectively ruined as a contributing member of society until I can know without a doubt that she has forgiven me.

And who knows? Maybe she won’t.

Isn’t it amazing how complex we are? How deep our emotions go and how tied they are to events, relationships, and perceptions from yesterday and as far back as our childhood? A husband leaves his dirty shirt on the floor and his wife sees disrespect written all over the wrinkles of the discarded garment. It’s not just a crew neck in a heap, it’s a blatant disregard of who she is and what she does. She’s convinced she’s being trampled on and ignored. She just knows that this one small act of selfishness is indicative of their entire relationship: he doesn’t care. And the sad truth is, he does care. He just wasn’t thinking in the moment he dropped the dirty laundry a foot from the hamper. Maybe he was being selfish. Maybe he was daydreaming. But whatever the reason, the bottom line remains: his insensitivity to her needs created a rift that could have been easily avoided.

Anyway, I’m the inconsiderate husband in this little scenario, and since I don’t have much experience in this realm, I’m struggling. How can I make it up to her? Or is this one of those situations where only time can heal all wounds…? Sigh.

My friend is not much of an internet girl, so there's no chance she'll read this, but if a public apology would help I'd write: I'm an inconsiderate shmuck. I am so sorry I hurt you. I will do my best not to make such a dumb mistake again, but since I'm far more fallible than I usually like to admit, I'll probably disappoint you again. I hope we can work through that together. But for now, I just hope you can forgive me. I absolutely, unequivocally love you to death... Thing is, I already said all that to her and more. I hope she was listening.

Home Again, Home Again

I got home from Orlando last night at 8:30 and was greeted by two pajama-clad boys screaming "Mommy!" at the top of their lungs. In case you're wondering: nope, it doesn't get any better than that. Meeting Jeremy Camp doesn't compare. Signing 200 books while sitting next to Maureen Lang doesn't compare. Even watching the IllumiNations show at Epcot with fellow authors and good friends from Tyndale doesn't compare (though we're getting closer).

Okay, I'm being cheeky. Missing my boys aside, my trip to Orlando was fabulous in every way. I had a great time. Mostly because I got to dress up, talk books, and hang out with people who think the way I do (scary thought, I know). I stayed up late chatting with Lisa, got to know my wonderful agent and her equally cool assistant, met the authors of books I've long loved, and spent time plotting and planning my next book.

It's a little strange to be home. Good strange, because I just listened to my four-year-old put on a concert featuring his debut song Mommy's Home, but unsettling strange, too, because I'm reminded that I live in two worlds more or less. There's Nicole, the author, and then there's Niki, the wife, mom, small town girl, and closet poet (also known as Nik, momma, and 'Lil Beth--but that's another story).

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I feel so blessed to be able to do both: write books and be a full-time pastor's wife and mother of young sons. But the balancing act is hard sometimes. I came back from Florida full of ideas and ready to jump headfirst into my next project, but I had pancakes to make, eggs to scramble, diapers to change and phones to answer (all before 7:30 this morning). Then it was off to the doctor for my baby's two-year check-up (can I still call him a baby?), followed by Bible study and errands, and before I had a chance to breathe it was time to make lunch. Boy the days go so fast.

I guess the best thing I can do is love it while I'm in it, and enjoy the memories when the moment's gone. Awww... Isn't that sweet? But whether it's cheesy or not, I'm serious. Life goes too fast sometimes. I want to suck the marrow out of my life, but before I can pucker my lips it's gone. Bad analogy, but you know what I mean. Take this trip for example... I can't believe it's over. Oh well, at least I got some great pictures. :)

Anyway, time to switch the laundry and start thinking about supper. I'll write more about ICRS soon (maybe I'll even copy some of my journal entries), but in the meantime here's a photo from the Christy Awards banquet. I'm on the left next to Lisa McKay. On the right side is Shelly Beach, Christy Award winner in the Chick Lit category. Oh, and I should confess: I stole this photo from Lisa. Sorry, Lis!

Off to ICRS!

Tomorrow morning I take off for Orlando, Florida and the International Christian Retail Show (ICRS). I'm so excited! This will be my first time at the show, and I'm really looking forward to it. Saturday evening I'll be attending the Christy Awards (and cheering on my friend, Lisa McKay), Sunday I have brunch with some amazing fellow authors, Monday I'll be busy with interviews and booksignings, and Tuesday is the Author Appreciation dinner for Tyndale. I promise to take lots of pictures and tell you all about it. In the interim, I hope you have a lovely few days.

Happy Birthday

Two years ago today the Spirit laid a very heavy burden on my heart. Aaron and I were in the process of adopting a child from Ethiopia and we were firmly entrenched in the unhappy stage of waiting. Just waiting. Twiddling our thumbs because the dossier was complete, the homestudy was done, the papers were sent overseas, and there was nothing active for us to do. And I'm a do-er. A get things done-er. So God gave me something to do. He pressed so earnestly on my soul for so many days that I was heartsick. I lost my appetite, I couldn't sleep, I became so fidgety I couldn't stay still... Finally it got so intense I spread out facedown on my living room floor and begged the Lord to tell me why I was so unsettled.

Though he didn't speak outloud to me, within moments I knew why my spirit groaned so: my baby was being born. Thousands of miles away, amidst circumstances that I will never know, my little son was making his appearance in the world. Suddenly, I had much to do: I prayed. I prayed for his health and safety, I prayed for his poor mother and father, I prayed for each of his fingers and toes, his talents and weaknesses, his enfolding into our family. And when our case worker called with our referral of a sweet little son on August 22, 2006, I wasn't the least bit surprised when she told me his birthdate was July 8.

So, it's two years later and my counter is filled with balloons to be blown-up, streamers to be hung, presents to be wrapped, and cupcakes to be made. Tomorrow we celebrate our baby's second birthday. Happy birthday, Sweetheart.

Here he is, a moment after I first laid eyes on him. Isn't he sweet???

Giveaway

I have to quick let you know about another opportunity to win a signed copy of Summer Snow. Amber Miller is featuring an interview and giveaway at her blog this week. You should know the drill by now! Just click on the link and leave a comment. There are only five people in the drawing so far so your chances are great. And if you haven't already, read my post from yesterday... I'm so excited to spread the news about Trigger!

Trigger Discussion

Aaron and I had the pleasure of entertaining last night. I love having people over! We turned on music and worked together in the kitchen, making homemade guacamole and salsa for an appetizer, a fresh walnut and feta salad with blueberries and greens from our garden, Greek peppers on the grill, sour cream mashed potatoes, and grilled sirloins smothered in a bubbly bleu cheese topping. For dessert I made a flourless chocolate torte with a mixed berry sauce and fresh whipped cream. Yum. We accented it all with a light Chenin Blanc to begin and an earthy, raspberry toned Zinfandel to finish. The night was simply lovely.

But I'm waxing a little too poetic about the food. While it's true that I love a long, leisurely meal (ours began at 6:30 and ended with dessert at 11:00), there's one thing I love even more: great conversation. And we enjoyed wonderful conversation with our friends last night.

Most of our discussion centered around a shared vision we have for the reconciliation of art and Christianity. Bob is a filmmaker whose most recent project, a series of shorts called Trigger, has just been produced by Zondervan. These brief vignettes are designed to be a launching pad for discussion: many questions are raised but few, if any, are answered. The point is to provoke discussion and get people thinking about issues that we would normally tend to ignore or gloss over.

Let me just say, the films are amazing. We watched a few last night and I was completely blown away. They are artistic and gripping, raw and honest. One of my favorites was a mosaic of photographs, dubbed over with a woman singing: "He's got the whole world in his hands." You know the verses, right? Have you ever heard the one about: "He's got the red light district in his hands?" How about: "He's got Osama bin Laden in his hands?" Wow. Pretty powerful stuff.

Anyway, I was so taken with their vision and their amazing product that I just had to blog about it. I can't encourage you enough to head on over to the Trigger website and check it out. Though Trigger is associated with Youth Specialties, I certainly wouldn't consider their audience limited to teenagers or college students. I would love to use these shorts as a launching pad for discussion in an adult Bible study, too. There is no doubt in my mind that it would trigger an extraordinarily real and meaningful discussion...

Finished!

I'm done!

Woo-hoo!!! The final period is placed on my third novel! This doesn't mean I'm done-done, I still have edits to work through with my writing partner, my agent, and my publisher, but edits are managable. Right now I'm just thrilled that all the blood, sweat, and tears, all the gut-wrenching work of creating something out of nothing is complete. Praise the Lord.

Excuse me, I'm off to go celebrate...