Up to my eyes in editing!

Sorry, good friends, that I haven't been blogging for a few weeks. Until I looked at my last date I had no idea how long it had been. But the fact is, I'm up to the stage of having my most recent manuscript, "A Design of Gold" edited and I've been working on the changes I need to make.

Editing is always a very humbling experience. Since I've started writing my books I've had input from four different editors, Judy, Pat, Alison and Wendy. I could make it six if I include Suzanne, my proof-reader for the Quenarden series who was just as sharp and cluey as an editor, and Andrew, my husband, who always gives me suggestions and tips whenever he reads anything before I've sent it to the editors.

Letting a m/s go unedited would be a foolish move. Each time I've been over it myself until I've thought, "Surely they won't find much," but they always do! And very, very rarely is it anything to do with punctuation. Yet often people assume that punctuation is probably an editor's main job.

The most daunting sort of editing is the storyline editing. When I wrote my first Quenarden novel, my editor Alison explained why I needed to totally change and re-write slabs of the story. To start with, I didn't have a large enough distinction between the dialect of the Quenardians and that of the three teenaged protagonists who suddenly entered their world from a rock crack in a cliff. They all seemed to be using similar modern vernacular, which wouldn't be the case for the Quenardians, who had generally all lived isolated in that land for several generations. So I went through every page and changed the dialect of every native born Quenardian to my own sort of Celtic-cum-old Scottish/English patois. I don't know much about different dialects but I figured that as Quenarden was my country, it could be more unique than anything else people had come across. And it seemed to work. But it took awhile to change every single conversation in the book.

The second change was making my villain nastier. They told me, "Pythos is a wuss!" I had to work on making him seem far more menacing to readers from the start, and that was a challenge. For those who don't know, he's dragon-reptilian type of intelligent creature. I'd already given him semi-transparent orange skin so that horrified humans could watch his digestive system working. But apparently that was only the start. I needed to work on the menacing quality of his person.

I eventually achieved this by shifting around episodes in the book, like one of those square puzzles where you keep moving the panels around to form the picture. Beginning on page 60, Troy, Beth and Nathan had their first encounter with Pythos' evil henchmen, the Harrison brothers. A man named Joseph O'Donnell was selected randomly from the crowd to be a human sacrifice to Pythos. Originally, I'd slotted this little anecdote much later in the book. My editors figured out that bringing it in earlier would make a far greater impact before we even came to our first introduction with Pythos himself.

Without going into it, I re-wrote so much! I added more details to the first Race for Freedom (and anybody who's read them will know what I'm talking about.) I made Beth and Nathan's escape from Pythos' mountain headquarters far more suspenseful, with more breathtaking danger. And keep in mind that all this was after I'd already thought it was pretty good. Humbling, as I told you.

Another thing that editors do is to just change a few words or sentences for the better. Authors are so close to our own writing, we know exactly what we're trying to convey and assume that readers will too. Not the case.

Towards the end of the book, when the spent and battered Nathan is brought face to face with the terrified Pedor, the repentent traitor, I had Pythos bellow, "I believe you boys already know each other!" My editor suggested that I change it to "No introductions needed, I believe." The first wording, she felt, sounded too much like a "jolly old uncle."

And in another episode, Troy had a bit of a dig at Nathan, who had been teasing him. Levi asked, "Were you a hero where you came from, Troy?" to which I had him reply, "No, I wasn't. This is just Nathan's idea of sick humour." The editor suggested that I change the order of just two words so it became, "This is just Nathan's sick idea of humour!" I liked it much better.

As for my recent, "The Risky Way Home" I was advised to ruthlessly tear out several episodes, losing page after page of text. The heroine's sister Abby was having marital problems with her husband Jeff, and I'd intended for their story to be a bit of a sub-plot. My editor said, "No, slash it out! We don't care about them. We only care about Casey and Piers. This just interrupts the action we really care about." So several hours of wasted work went to the trash but I did it happily in the interests of having a nicer, tighter story.

Needless to say, "A Design of Gold" has been up for lots of reworking too. (My editor, Wendy's blog is in my tool bar, "Scribe of Spirit") She sent me an email saying, "Your standard is slipping, Paula. You need to re-write several sections before I can edit them." And she also suggested that I either turn one of my male characters into a female or re-write some of the action sequences so that a female has more involvement. "Don't forget you're writing for the women's market." Now, that made my stomach lurch to just think about it! I was aghast. I'd got fond of my boy and coudn't contemplate turning him into a girl! They are real friends and family to me. It'd be like turning one of my two sons into a second daughter! To cut a long story short, I suggested an alternative which meant I wouldn't have to make the sacrifices. She was happy with it, as long as I filled it with plenty of drama. So re-writing is what I've been doing all last week. I'll say no more, as I don't want to say too much about the plot of my as yet un-published book. (Wendy, if you read this, hi! I hope it the story's OK)

Whew, that's my excuse for neglecting the blog. If it's a little on the long side, just consider that I'm making up for not doing it for some time. And I think all this proves that there's no way a writer who gets thoroughly edited can possibly get a swelled head.

A Wonderful Mistake

I've sometimes been afraid to step out and make a move in any direction for fear that I'd be doing the wrong thing. I know the saying that God can only direct a moving car and not a parked one, yet I've still chosen to remain firmly parked, jotting down possible pros and cons, trying to figure things out. What usually happens is that my head just spins and I'm even more frustrated and confused, having known all along that the pros and cons for both sides are what makes a decision difficult in the first place. I've felt envious of friends and acquaintances who state, "After prayer I just knew deep in my bones that the right thing to do would be...." So with big or medium sized decisions, and sometimes even small ones, I've been a procrastinator.

It's embarrassing to make mistakes. Just a few moments ago in fact, one of Logan's friends phoned to ask if he could come and have a play on the computer. Thinking that school holidays must be earlier than I'd expected, I told him that although we're pretty busy today (Monday), he's welcome to come on Thursday. He sounded a bit dubious about that, and then when I hung up, it struck me that school holidays won't even begin until after Easter. Today is simply a public holiday long weekend for the Adelaide Cup horse race. So I phoned back, explained my confusion and asked him if he'd like to come on Saturday. Even that sort of little thing makes me feel like a muddle-headed, dizzy homeschooling mum who's out of touch with the rest of the world. It's not pleasant to imagine how I must appear to other people. No wonder I hesitate to step out on the big stuff.

Not long ago, I found a statement in a book I was reading that we shouldn't be afraid to step out because God can even use our mistakes! It was a nice thought and I wanted to think it's true. Well, over the weekend I read a true story that confirms it absolutely.

It was about Mr Alfred Nobel, the Swedish instigator of the Nobel Peace Prize. He'd become a multi-millionaire from his work producing dynamite. Over breakfast one day, he opened the morning paper and was shocked to see his own obituary in the classifieds. The editor of the paper had mistakenly thought he'd died. When Nobel got over his initial shock, he was upset to find that his obituary was not very flattering. In spite of his success, he'd been labelled as a rude and selfish man who had no time for others. That became the catalyst for him to change his life around before it became too late. Establishing the Nobel Peace Prize, thereby giving huge chunks of his wealth away in aid of great humanitarian causes changed his personal legacy completely. When we think of the name Nobel, what do we immediately think of? How ironic to learn that the man whose name is most associated with worldwide peace earned his fortune in something as un-peaceful as dynamite!

I guess when the newspaper editor discovered his mistake, he would've thought, "Oh yikes!" and wanted to sink into a hole in the ground and never come out again. As far as mistakes go, that was a pretty big one. But look at the good that came out of it. Perhaps it's a good thing to just make the best prayerful, informed decisions we can and then step out without looking back, trusting them to come alright.

A serendipitous discovery

For a few months now, my husband has been wanting a good eyecatching visual header for our website. Last Saturday he was playing saxophone at a small local art gallery and a photographer friend of ours named Betty showed up while they band were taking a break. It occurred to Andrew to ask her on the spot whether or not she'd be able to put her thinking cap on and come up with a good photo image for Apple Leaf Books some time in the future. Betty immediately told him that she already had some! She'd been out just the previous week with a friend to take photos of grapevines. On their drive home they passed some apple orchards and thought they'd stop and take a few photos just for fun. The apples were bright, the leaves were healthy and they thought they'd make good photos. So she was delighted to come across some old friends who needed just what she had, and we, of course, were thrilled with the face lift to our website and blog. Because of course when we had the new header on the website I wanted to spruce up my blog too.

I love serendipitous moments and divine appointments. This is just a little one but still a sign that we're doing a good thing, moving in the right direction and being guided.

Quite a Dilemma

Last week I had the foreign news going on TV in the background and a story came up about a little baby who was born with 6 fingers on each hand and 6 toes on each foot. It seems nobody had noticed for several moments until his parents, who had been giving him a good cuddle, looked down with a great shock. But he was gorgeous and the six fingers and toes were all straight and absolutely perfect. I saw a 6-fingered little girl in "The Guinness Book of World Records" but her 6th digits were bent and crooked. Not so with this little boy.

Now, of course, they are wondering if they ought to do anything or nothing at all. They are aware that as he grows, he may be teased by his peer group if they leave him with all 24 fingers and toes. On the other hand, as they are perfect, there is no medical reason to amputate any of them. I said, "I wouldn't touch them. I'd leave them just as they are and tell him he's special." But my son Logan said, "If it was me, I'd want you to cut them off. I wouldn't want them and when I got old enough, I'd be mad if you left them." So that makes the situation trickier. You're dealing with the future of somebody who is not yet old enough to make his own decisions.

But one of the doctors who was interviewed has been urging the parents to consider leaving them. "Think what an advantage a six-fingered pianist would have!" That swayed me again. If God and nature have given this boy a remarkable gift, who are we to tamper with it simply because of what people (including the boy himself, I suppose) might think? I can quite understand the mother, who actually said, "I just haven't got my head around it yet." I really felt for her and her husband, having that decision to make.

What would YOU do? Personally, I still think I might have left them, and Logan can count himself fortunate that he was born with just five digits on each hand and foot if that's his point of view.

Dreams must be Loved

I've been hearing a lot about following dreams lately. A friend of mine was sharing how she'd come up with a brand new dream that really excited and motivated her. The interesting part was that it was the first time she'd ever felt that way. She realised that all the ideas she'd called dreams in the past turned out to be nothing more than thinking a particular action might be a good idea. I knew just where she was coming from. I realised that I've often experienced the phenomenon of wanting to want do something that sounds good. And you can just about convince yourself that it really is your dream, but deep down you know the truth.

About the same time I was reading a biography of Albert Einstein that I borrowed from the library. I thought I'd stretch my horizons and give my brain a work-out. It was too much for me. A lot of the quantum physics and theory of relativity material might as well have been written in Ancient Greek or Double Dutch as far as I was concerned. I'd expected that, but I wanted to get something out of the book anyway. And I did! It all tied in with this business about having dreams that you can love.

When Einstein was 13 years old, a friend of the family who went to university used to lend him university text books. And young Albert used to devour them. He looked forward to going to bed so he could read more of such stuff as "The Critique of Pure Reason" by Immanuel Kant, as if it was a novel! And he looked forward to the visits of his Uni friend so that he could get his hands on more! Heavy, detailed Maths text books were some of his very favourites. To quote the book, "It brought him intense pleasure and made him happy."

I thought of my own son who is about the same age. Although he can handle Year 8 & 9 Maths, he'd far rather not! And I was exactly the same. We understand that we must plough through it, to meet possible future exam requirements but it is certainly not exciting and stimulating. No way could we stimulate a passion for Mathematics in our hearts, and I'm sure it's because God didn't plant it there. He has other plans for people like us.

God has promised that when we delight ourselves in Him and commit our ways to Him, He will grant us the desires of our hearts (Psalm 37: 4-5). It's great to think that this is because when we delight ourselves in Him, we can't avoid finding out what our passions are, because He has planted them there. We didn't ask for them. We were born with them. But God must have got them right because we wouldn't change them if we had the chance, no matter how hard they get to follow. That's why he promises to give us the desires of our heart when we follow Him, because He wants to make life easy for us by letting us like the path He has planned for us.

To sum up, I saw a movie last week in which the hero, who was a talented guitarist, put it aside to concentrate on earning money in his business, which didn't inspire him at all. At one part, his eccentric uncle said, "Have you considered the reason why so many things you touch turn bad is because you're touching the wrong things?"

Money, Money & More Money!

Did I grab anyone's attention with this title? I'm afraid this isn't what I have flowing into my bank account (not yet), but I wish that it was. I'm freely admitting, after having battled with the prosperity concept for years, that I wish I was wealthy.

I've known many Christians who feel too "humble" to pray for wealth. We've clung to such Scriptures as 1Titus 6:10 (the love of money is the root of all evil), Matthew 6:24 (You cannot serve both God and Money), and 1Peter 5:2 (Be not greedy for money but eager to serve.) We've felt that we glorify God best by being content with what we have. After all, that's what Paul the Apostle tells us to do in Philippians 4: 12-13. I've bought into an ascetic sort of notion that I should be happy in my poverty because a desire for more would be showing greed, which God would not be happy with. I've even spoken of my humble circumstances to others with a sort of spiritual pride. You know, the "We can't afford it but look how we're eking out on what God provides us,' sort of thing. Or "Look at all we're doing without! I'll bet so-&-so would be fuming if they had to live on OUR income!"

But as I continued writing and publishing, I could not deny that I certainly WOULD like to increase my cashflow. It'd be GREAT to be able to re-print "Picking up the Pieces" already instead of needing to wait "until we have the money!" I have an idea that that day is like the proverbial "tomorrow." It never comes. But I WANT it to come! It is wonderful when poor folk pray and God comes through at the 11th hour with sudden help from an unexpected source. But I couldn't help thinking it'd be even more wonderful if we didn't need to rely on this sort of miracle. I love to imagine that we run such a blessed and flourishing concern that we're able to print books whenever we felt like it. I'm sure that writing is God's calling on my life, but if I'm halted because of finances, His plans are thwarted.

At first I whispered, "I want to be wealthy enough to do this well," wondering if it was OK. Is increasing my wealth really something I should be praying for? I feel that the answer is a definite YES. To begin with, I know you've all heard about the horrific bushfires which have ravaged our state of Victoria these past few weeks. Watching the faces on the News of victims whose loved-ones have been burned to death is more than I can stand. And there is an appeal going around for money to be able to support bushfire victims. They're saying, "Come on South Aussies, we know the Vics would get behind us if the situation was reversed." And how I'd love to be in the position to donate thousands and thousands to this appeal out of our abundance. But we're not. That's when it hit me that having a cash base for good works is not worldly at all. It is a God-given blessing to enable us to bless others.

Maybe we cling to those Scriptures I mentioned without really getting the point of them. It's the love of money that is the root of all evil, not money itself. God doesn't want us to become attached to it at the cost of giving up our reliance on Him, but He does bless it with it to be used for great purposes. We forget that Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, David and Solomon, to name a few, were all blessed with abundance as a sign of God's favour. Why did He do it? Because He knew they'd be good stewards.

Deuteronomy 8:18 is a verse that we shouldn't forget. "Remember the Lord your God for it is He who gives you the ability to produce wealth and so confirms His covenant which He swore to your forefathers, as it is today." Speaking of covenenants, we mustn't forget that Jesus died to deliver us from sin, disease AND poverty. "He became poor so that we might become rich" might not be talking just about the airy-fairy, inner-soul sort of richness so many of us think.

I've been praying for ways to promote Apple Leaf Books, and came up with an Apple Leaf Club. You'll see the details in my toolbar soon. I'll finish off with a quote which I think very apt.

If you want to help the poor, don't be one of them!

Happy Birthday Logan

Yesterday our eldest turned 14! It may sound trite to say this but it's absolutely true, it seems like just the other day when he was born. I thought that in honor of the day, I'd fill this post with a bit of Logan-lore, some from way back and some more recently.

He's always been verbally skilled. Even as a toddler before he learned to read, he easily memorised several of his favourite books, such as Dr Seuss favourites, without even trying. We would turn a page and he could recite exactly what was on it, even when it was very long.

He was our shy, retiring one when we were out in company. (Not around the house, of course). Once when he was very small and still our only child, I was having a haircut, and one of the shop girls offered to read to him. As usual, he stayed quiet as a mouse until he warmed up to her. She was telling him, "The cat called Pat is on the mat" and such stuff, when suddenly he pointed to part of the picture and remarked out of the blue, "That apartment building has a fire extinguisher next to it." I forget whether or not I've told this one before, but I like it.

I remember a funny episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" when Ray's brother, Robert, remarked that he'd been their parent's "Practise Kid." Logan said he absolutely understands where he was coming from, and he has a point. He was the one who we sent to school, just to see if he'd take to it, and because of his patience he was there for over 3 years, although he says he hated it most of the time. And he was the one I'd panic over and whiz off to doctors in the emergency department for things which I never fretted over with Emma and Blake. He's still our trailblazer, as I find myself sometimes getting anxious about what'll become of him, as we've never homeschooled a teenager before.

At the moment, Logan has not much ambition. When people ask him what he wants to do when he finishes school, he shrugs and replies that he has no idea, which some people think is a source of angst. (Such as his grandparents, who all thought he was so promising and sharp and intelligent from the time we first had him.) He takes an interest in politics, sports and current affairs. He has a good memory for all sorts of trivia, including history and geography. He loves the electronic games. I'm expecting that his life path will open before him when he's meant to step on it, but it certainly makes the homeschool journey one of faith!

Yesterday we took him to one of the big city shopping centres to have lunch and browse in all the different game shops, as he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do on a hot summer's day. But before then, we had a bit of a drama at home. I'd brought in a roll of catalogues from the letter box and the boys decided to look at them together. Then I hear my big, brave 14 year old scream, "Get off the couch Blake, get off the couch!" Turns out he'd seen an enormous huntsman spider crawl out of one of the catalogues. They are harmless but big and ugly and do give you a shock. I came out to help search for it, armed with vacuum cleaner and one of Andrew's steel-capped boots. I couldn't find it but I admit I didn't look too hard. We left it until we got home from the shops, and then good old Dad discovered the monster, skulking behind some cushions. He used the cup and paper method to get it outside, which I'd never dream of doing with a beast of that calibre. As it was, Andrew had his leg scuttled over as he was releasing it. It gives me the heebie-jeebies just to think of accidentally carrying it in with the papers. And Logan has been very edgy with catalogues ever since. It seems I've raised a sensitive new aged guy instead of big tough hero. But as he keeps reminding me, it WAS big!