Tag: #writingcommunity

Posted on

Look into the eyes of a child. You can see God there. ~Amma

August started our next six weeks of travel (five different states for five different reasons, some via our Ford F150, some via plane, then a trip overseas to visit a friend), and we kicked it off by flying to Atlanta to celebrate the birth of our granddaughter, Naomi. Part of our job as grandparents was to keep older brother, Elias, occupied, which we did willingly. He’s a smart kid and fun to be around, and so far, he has accepted the new baby with enthusiasm.

I like to people-watch. Eavesdropping (or spying—what do you call it when you can’t hear but can watch?) often gives me ideas for things to write. Observing others is easy to do while traveling, and you get such a slice-of-life choice while in the airport. This trip was no different.

The first thing I noticed was a couple standing off to the side, out of the main flow of foot traffic rushing past. They faced each other, and he leaned in close, touching her face with a tender gesture. She stood stock still, gaze pointed over his shoulder. I wasn’t sure what they were doing, but the moment felt intimate, so I looked away.

As we passed them, I glanced over for a last peek. He held his hand in front of her face, and she leaned slightly forward, mouth pursed as if she were blowing the seeds off a dandelion. Realization struck.

He’d wiped an eyelash from her face, and she was now making a wish and blowing it off his fingertip.

So many thoughts flew through my mind. Triumph—I picked up enough clues to figure out what I witnessed. Curiosity—do people from other countries do the same ritual when an eyelash drops onto someone’s face? Tenderness—the couple had a history together. Their body language told a story.

Once we found our gate and settled in to wait for our trip to Georgia, we were confronted with the flurry of activity and personality that was Teagan, a three-year-old from Alabama who headed to Atlanta to participate in a beauty pageant. She’s been participating since she was six months old. Mom shared photos from her phone, and the hair and makeup extravaganza was just as bad (or good, depending on your point of view) as you might imagine.

Teagan first caught my eye because her mom had put her hair into an interesting braid, and I was trying to figure out how she’d done it. But after like ten seconds, Teagan inserted herself into our space and took over the show.

First, she looked me right in the eye and asked, in her lispy three-year-old voice, “Can I have a hug?”

Mentally, I sighed. Okay. This child is going to require my attention for the next thirty minutes, and I wasn’t really up for entertaining her. But how do you say no to a hug? So I said, “Sure!” and opened my arms wide. Then I fell in love. She chattered on about everything. I asked her if three-year-olds had to do a talent at their pageant. They do. Hers is usually dance (she takes ballet lessons). And sometimes she sings if she feels like it. Spontaneously, I wondered? So my husband, John, pulled up pictures of ballet dancers on his phone. “Can you do that?” he asked, showing her a dancer posed en pointe, arms held gracefully in the air. She placed a hand on his knee and leaned in close to peer at the photo.

“Mama! That’s you.”

Mom looked up from her phone and chuckled. “No, baby. That’s not me.” She looked at us with a self-deprecating shrug. “I used to dance. She’s seen pictures of me at home.”

Mom probably weighed a good eighty pounds more than the ballerina in the photo. But Teagan didn’t notice that. She saw a lovely, graceful dancer and thought she looked just like her mother.

That got me thinking, and I pondered it while John and Teagan moved on to pulling up photos of the moon (she likes space). What do I need to change about the way I see things to have the same attitude as Teagan? How can I notice only the very best in others? How can I see my neighbors the way God sees me, recognizing and encouraging the potential, the good, and forgiving all the rest? That attitude certainly won’t come easy, but I want to try.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them” 2 Corinthians 5: 17-19.

Later, after disembarking the plane and riding the tram across the airport, we heard Teagan’s mom call up to us. We had just stepped onto the escalator to ride up to the parking level, and they were passing by on their way to the elevator.

“Hey!” she called. We glanced over the edge as we rose. There stood Teagan, waving her hand madly, grinning from ear to ear. “She wanted to say goodbye.”

I smiled and waved back just as enthusiastically. “Bye, little friend! Good luck at your pageant.”

My friend Tracy Redman always encourages us when we travel—talk to a stranger and make a new friend. I’m glad I let Teagan into my life, even if only for a while.

I’ve decided to self-publish book number four instead of going the traditional route. Made for More is currently in the final stages of editing and will go through a round of beta readers. If you’re interested in getting an advance reader’s copy (ARC) of a Christian romance starring a rock star and a high school teacher (how does that even work? Read it to find out), and providing feedback, let me know. I’ve hired a book-cover designer. Now I wait. My plan is to have the book out by October this year.

My friend Cathy Rueter just had her debut novel come out. She writes Christian suspense, and this book, Murder May I?, was published by Elk Lake Publishing Inc. I have an author interview with her posted on my website. Check it out here …  https://paulapeckham.com/lets-talk-about-books/ . Her book revolves around the fashion world. I love getting peeks into environments I know nothing about and learning something new. Her story gives just the right amount of hints to keep you guessing, but without giving everything away in Chapter Three. I really enjoyed Cathy’s story. I hope you will too. You can buy a copy on Amazon. https://a.co/d/cprapIj

I’m traveling to Washington State in September to teach a class on ProWritingAid at the Southwest Washington Writers Conference (one of the five different states in our fall travel). I purchased a lifetime access to the program but knew I wasn’t getting my money’s worth. There is SO much it can do. So I did some research and went through every tool PWA offers, making notes along the way. If the conference records the sessions, I’ll provide a link to the presentation on my website, in case you’re considering purchasing PWA for yourself. In my opinion, buying the program was money well spent, and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who writes.

While in Georgia, my daughter-in-law, Jonnique, recommended watching an eight-part Netflix series titled “The Trunk.” It’s Korean and uses subtitles. (Side note: this is our third Korean show, and they are VERY good at crying. Tears flood eyes, they drip dramatically over an eyelid and roll down a cheek – very realistic.) It really confused me for the first episode or two, but it totally sucked me in. I loved the male main character. We binged the show in four days. I didn’t LOVE the ending because it left me with several questions, but thankfully, there is a book by the same name, so I downloaded it to my phone, and I’ll read it on my way home to Texas tomorrow on the plane. The show gave me a good lesson on how to drip, drip, drip the clues into the story while building up to the grand reveal at the end.

Posted on

Lean on me when you’re not strong … giving comfort to those who grieve

Part 1 Story Time

My almost-83-year-old mother keeps me stocked with Netflix recommendations. She spends her time either reading, playing tennis (yes, she still plays), or watching TV. Add the fact that she has insomnia (as do I—thanks for sharing that gene with me, Mama), and she churns through a lot of television. The good thing for me is I get pre-reviewed entertainment suggestions, which I find helpful. When I look at ALL the options available on Netflix alone, the decision-making section of my brain goes on overload, and I end up watching reruns of the Great British Baking Show or Queer Eye.

The Great British Baking Show - one of my favorites!

So, thanks to Mama’s sacrifice of spending her time to vet shows for me, I recently watched Adolescence. (Short review at the end of this post – worth watching!) The show was emotional, and it affected me.

During the last scene of the final episode, I didn’t say anything, or even make a noise, but tears spilled down my cheeks as I watched. Then my dog, Buddy, stood from where he lay on his rug, walked over, and shoved his nose under my hand. Did he come over to comfort me? How did he know?

Pets offer comfort

Comfort. Easy enough to provide. Can we offer comfort in the same way?

Thinking of this reminded me of an incident at the school where I taught. Every year, one hour would be my conference period. Most teachers took care of paperwork business during that time, including making copies of lessons in the copy room. Every year, we’d have different “copy room partners,” depending on how schedules were set up. One year, my copy buddy was Coach Peters (name changed). His son had graduated with a teaching degree the previous May, and Alex had been hired at our school to teach and coach baseball, to be Coach Peters’ assistant. The prospect of working alongside his son thrilled Coach. Then one day, they found the young man dead in his bed. I don’t remember now what the exact medical diagnosis was, but Coach Peters and his wife were blindsided.

Alex died over the summer, so a few months had gone by when I ran into Coach in the copy room. I asked him how he was doing. I didn’t specifically mention his son, but that’s what I meant. He poured his heart out to me, tears sliding down his face. Tears slid down mine as well. We were work colleagues, not friends. I hardly knew the man. But the thought of living through the death of my child made my heart hurt for him.

Men giving comfort to each other

What floored me was when he said this: “I wanted to talk about Alex one day during our planning period. My department chair listened for a minute, then told me she thought I should get over it. Life goes on sort of thing.”

Her response shocked him. It shocked me. All he wanted was to remember his child, to share memories of him. The woman shut him down.

I don’t think she meant to be cruel. When people are faced with emotions, and we don’t know what to do to fix the problem, we avoid. And seeing tears from a grown person, particularly a man, puts others into an uncomfortable situation. But all Coach wanted was to talk, to be heard. My job was simple—listen. And cry a little with him. To care enough to ask how he was. We hugged afterward and went about our day. I don’t think I spoke to him one-on-one again that year. But in that moment, my attention gave him something that helped. By acknowledging his pain, I allowed him to grieve. Maybe that’s all he needed.

We’ll all probably find ourselves in a similar situation at least once in our lives. When that moment comes, do your best not to run away. Instead, be the sympathetic ear, offer a shoulder to cry on. In today’s emotionally fraught world, we need to take care of each other.

Christians are called on to comfort each other

Galatians 6:2 teaches this: Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.

Sometimes, we don’t have to solve anything. Just listen.

Part 2 Book Stuff

In my writing world, I have an update. My completed contemporary romance about an aging rock star, Made for More, is currently with an acquisitions editor at one of the large five Christian publishing houses. Receiving an offer from one of the Top Five without agent representation is a big leap, so I’m keeping my expectations realistic. She told me she’d have an update by July. If the answer is no, I’ll move forward with self-publishing the novel. If that is the case, my goal is to have the book out into the world by September. So stay tuned!

Quote from my upcoming book - Made for More. "Buckle up, Buttercup. You're in for the ride of your life." The ride of her life? Hopefully it wasn't heading straight off the side of a cliff.

I’m currently writing my first attempt at romantic suspense. I’m on chapter seven as we speak and having a lot of fun figuring this genre out. My working title is Fighting for Justice, but that will probably change. Titles come hard for me.

You can find all of my books on Amazon in print, eBook, or audiobook formats.

Here’s a link to the audiobook of Protected. https://paulapeckham.com/never-trust-anyone-who-has-not-brought-a-book-with-them-lemony-snicket/

Part 3 For Writers

I taught a class on formatting to the San Gabriel Writers League last week. My next step is to break down each small segment into individual videos and post them on YouTube. If you’re contemplating self-publishing and want to save some money by doing the formatting yourself, give the videos a try. Here is a link to the first one I’ve uploaded, which shows you how to change your margins to the size you want your book to be.

Subscribe to be notified when I upload the next videos. And, as always, if you run into problems doing your formatting, I’m an email away and would love to help.

Series review

Adolescence.

Described as a four-part crime drama, it shows the fallout after thirteen-year-old Jamie is arrested for murdering his classmate. The show probes mental health, masculinity, and the ease of online radicalization, particularly within the incel (involuntary celibate) culture. A string of violent acts committed by teenage boys against teenage girls in Great Britain inspired the series. Stephen Graham, who plays Jamie’s father, has the final scene of the show. His performance absolutely gutted me.

* Cautionary note: I doubt if everyone in Great Britain speaks this way, but many of the British shows I watch have some pretty serious language. They (at least in the movies) drop the F-bomb as casually as I say, “please pass the salt.” Be forewarned.

Posted on

This is why we can’t have nice things.

Twice now, I’ve been an American on vacation in a foreign country, and I’ve gotten tickled to the point of uncontrollable laughter … over something ridiculously uncouth.

Not repping my country well, to say the least.

Every country has its own customs. Many of the unfamiliar ways of those “fawr-uh-ners” turn out to be quite nice.

For example, in Japan, when you ride the subway or train, it’s quiet. If people have their phones out, they’re wearing headphones so as to not inflict their noise on their fellow travelers. If two people want to talk, they hold their heads close together and their voices are low.

I got so used to this unexpected pleasure that on one trip, when a man struggled to open a snack item wrapped in plastic, the extended crinkling sound filling the car as he fought with it irked me so badly, I had to restrain myself from leaping out of my seat and snatching it from his hands.

But one evening, riding the subway back to my friend Ronda’s house, I began a story, telling it in halting segments, layering on each humorous antic one at a time. Think of the famous Carol Burnett show skit where Tim Conway tells the story about the Siamese twin elephants.

It was the classic “don’t laugh in church” scenario, only it was “don’t laugh on the Japanese subway.”

I hadn’t intended to draw the story out that way, but when Ronda started snuffling, her laughter egged me on. The tale came out one bit at a time, until both of us were hee-hawing so hard, tears streamed down our faces. While telling the story, I spoke so low my husband, who stood holding on to a pole across the aisle from us, had no idea why we were cracking up, but we couldn’t contain the sound of our hilarity. Finally, Ronda gasped, “No more. No more.”

People shot dark looks our way, which only made things worse. We, quite obviously, were not Japanese. I wonder what they thought of us.

A second time happened in France. My husband and I accompanied five family members to St. Gervais for a winter trip to see Mont Blanc. One special event was a visit to a thermal spa called Les Thermes. The inside walls were painted black or charcoal, all dark and quiet, with small LED lights creating displays on tables and recessed lighting gleaming down from black ceilings.

Very mindful. Very demure.

Everyone there seemed to know exactly what to do and where to go next. We stumbled around like country bumpkins. After soaking in a warm communal bath, we moved to a heated, tiled, bleacher-type area where people reclined, silently soaking in the heat. After a few moments of that, we were like, “Hmm. What’s next?” So we followed some folks into the sauna area. The slippers piled up at the door gave us the hint we were to enter barefoot. They even provided a wooden rack to hold your glasses. Ooh, la, la. Every detail considered. Every solution provided.

We entered the sauna. I blinked, attempting to focus through the steam wafting in the air like our own personal cloud. A couple sat on one side, the woman lying with her head in her partner’s lap. Another man leaned against the wall opposite them. The three of us moved to the far wall to take a seat.

There was a perfect combination of conditions: steamy, hot air practically dripping with condensation; our wet skin; and soggy seats of our bathing suits, freshly drenched from our recent dip in the warm bath. Put them all together, and we each—one after the other, three in a row—created the perfect fart noise when we plopped onto the tiled bench lining the wall.

We gave each other wide-eyed looks and bit back our laughter. This wasn’t a laughing atmosphere. Shhh. Enjoy the relaxation.

The instructions said to sit in the steam for five minutes, then step outside of the room to use the showers to rinse. Step back in and repeat two more times.

Forewarned by experience about the farting phenomenon, we each tried different techniques when we resumed our seats. Lower yourself onto your right hip and roll your buttocks on the bench. Perch your tailbone on the very edge and slide back. Sit with your legs slightly wide to avoid creating the “bowl” shape formed by thighs and buttocks. We had varying levels of success. Giggles threatened.

Then a fourth member of our family joined us. Yanked the door open, letting in a swirl of cool(er) air, stumbled through the foggy air, then plopped straight down. BRAAAP.

Maybe if it’d happened to only one of us, we’d have been able to contain ourselves. But all four of us were caught by the noise. None of the French people seemed plagued by loutish behavior. One of us giggled, then two, then it was Katy, bar the door.

Y’all, the lady lying with her head in her partner’s lap got up, and they left. Not because they were done. No. They went into the other sauna. Right in front of us. Didn’t even try to hide it. We laughed even harder.

In Texas, people are friendly. We smile at each other in our stores, we do the one-finger salute when we pass each other on the road (pointer finger, just to be clear), and we chat with strangers while we wait in line. We touch when we talk. We hug when we leave. I feel like my life is spent in a happy, pleasant, humor-filled way.

Not so mindful. Not that demure. But fun.

I’m sorry we disturbed the couple in the sauna. I thought of them when we moved to the outside pools (which were heated, but uncovered in the outdoor, 32° weather). I could envision one of us running, leaping into the water doing a cannonball, yelling “Yeehaw!” (We didn’t do that, but the thought crossed my mind.) I’m sure they find humor in other places in their lives. But I enjoy laughing. And laughter comes easily to me.

Jesus told us in the book of John, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” I bet Jesus laughed a lot. I think he would’ve been fun to hang out with.

Look for ways to have fun, to enjoy each other, to relax with laughter.

That night in our AirBnB, we pulled out an original version of Trivial Pursuit we found on a shelf. I lifted the lid and wiggled it to get it off, and as it slid away, the perfect fart noise came out. BRAAP. We laughed all over again, so hard and so long that my sides ached. I swear it added five years to my life.

However you do it, spend your life with humor and fun. As my friend Greg Kata on TikTok says, “Find your joy.”

I finished my contemporary rockstar romance. Now I stand at a crossroads. Do I try to get an agent who will help me get into one of the largest “Big Five” publishing houses or do I go indie, and publish everything myself? Getting into the big houses requires an agent, which I don’t have. So I’m doing my version of Gideon’s fleece test in the Bible. I’ve picked three agents. Between now and April 12, I’ll see if any of the three are interested in representing me. If one offers to sign me, I’ll see how the traditional route goes. If none do, beginning April 13, I’m taking the steps to self-publish. I know how to format books and I’m very familiar with uploading to KDP. All I’ll need is a friend to give one last edit to the manuscript, and to find a book cover designer. So, I’m waiting on God to send me my sign. And I’m fine with whichever way he sends me. So stay tuned to see what happens with Made for More.

If you’ve decided to go the indie route, or perhaps you’re preparing a novella or short story as a lead magnet, you’ll need to know how to format your book. A friend recently asked me how to set up her margins to change her manuscript from the typical page size in Word to a smaller 6 x 9 for publishing. Here is a short video explaining how that works.

Posted on

Who loves to read?

I love to read, and new books excite me the way getting a new puppy excites some people. (Actually, new puppies excite me too, but I don’t bring them home as often.)

I made a vow to myself in January this year NOT to buy a new book until I’d read all the unread copies I already own. Yeah, that didn’t work out so well. Here are my most recent acquisitions. To be fair, some were given to me (and I accepted in the name of research – I’m considering writing a book to submit to Love Inspired), the big on one the bottom is one I use for my editing jobs, but some I got just ’cause I wanted them.

But it’s really exciting when a new book comes out that was written by a friend. I want to share two of those with you today.

The first comes from Jodie Wolfe. Her tagline: Stories Where Hope and Quirky Meet. Well, I’m always up for quirky. Her most recent came out a little earlier this year, titled Convincing Lou. It’s a western (checkmark for me), the female MC disguises herself as a man (checkmark for me), and it’s romance (double checkmark for me).

Ellie Lou Williams will do just about anything to save her ranch, even going undercover as a man to round up a fella who is late to his own wedding. The reward will more than cover the money she owes the bank and solve all her problems.

Caleb Dawson agrees to one final job as a deputy U.S. Marshal before he starts his new life away from the trail and tracking criminals. What he isn’t counting on is a mysterious bounty hunter who’s determined to undermine his every step.

Will one reach their goal first? Or will they learn to lean on God and work together?

Check it out! You may find a new favorite author.

The second book I want to share with you was written by Nancy Lavo. This is Book Three in her Lone Star Loves series. Nancy writes with a sweet sense of humor and a gentle touch of God. These stories (which can be read as stand-alones, so don’t worry about starting with book three) are set in a fictional small town called Village Green. This book, The Perfect Getaway, stars Riley, a spunky elementary teacher who’s hiding a secret, and Sam, the hunky police officer in town whose antenna is twitching because he KNOWS Riley’s hiding something. The kids in the classroom offer plenty of humorous moments, but the conversation between the two main characters will have you chuckling. Nancy’s book won the coveted #1 New Release banner on Amazon on launch day.

Book blurb: First-grade teacher Riley Vreeland is terrified. When the attention from a recent acquaintance escalates from creepy to threatening, she flees to Village Green. With its limited employment, housing, and amenities, the tiny town is the last place someone would choose to settle. And hopefully it’s the last place her stalker will look.

Serving and protecting the people of Village Green is hard-wired into police officer Sam Walker’s DNA. The new teacher’s fearful response to him and his offer to help sets his suspicions on high alert. What is she hiding? He’s determined to find out.

After Sam delivers a stray dog to her, Riley softens toward the nosy cop. It’s hard to hate the man who supplied her with her four-footed best friend. And his rapport with her first graders is heartwarming. Riley is tired of looking over her shoulder. Can she trust the small-town superhero with her secret, or will the loyalty she admires in him bring danger to her door?

You can’t go wrong with Nancy’s stuff. She’s a pro at sweet, contemporary, uplifting romance.

What’s the latest new book you brought (or snuck) home? I’ll give away a copy of Nancy’s book to one lucky winner. Comment for a chance to win.

Posted on

Set Your Course by the Stars

Summer is vacation time for most people, and we were no different. We took our oldest granddaughter, Amber, to Chicago so she could go to the Lallapalooza music festival and see Laufey and Stray Kids.

I expected the worst (ok, Boomer) and had resigned myself to spending a long, hot day being tortured, but both concerts she wanted to hear pleasantly surprised me.

Laufey played in front of the Chicago Philharmonic Orchestra and walked out onto the stage wearing a frothy gown worthy of Ginger Rogers on a dance floor with Fred Astaire. Her music, according to Amber, is romantic. I agreed. Young girls spread across the grassy field and sang along with Laufey’s tunes. It was a peaceful, sweet hour.

Amber warned us Stray Kids would be different. If you’ve never heard of them, don’t feel bad. I hadn’t either. In fact, I’d never heard of 95% of the groups in the four-day festival. For Stray Kids, think ‘NSYNC, only Korean.

Amber’s description of their music was “loud.” Pshaw. My concert years were in the ’80s. I can do loud. But, unexpectedly, I enjoyed the music and the choreography of the eight young men. Their dance moves gave me Bruno Mars vibes. And though I hardly understood any words (stadium-sized concerts are always very reverb-ery), I had a good time. My favorite band member was Felix (front and center in the pic). I’m a sucker for guys with long hair (as you’ll see in my next book, which features a rock star named Derek, who is moving into his third decade in music.)

The next day, we dragged Amber on an architectural tour of the buildings on the riverwalk. (My husband’s suggestion, not mine.) I was almost as bored with the idea as Amber, but at least it was cooler on the river and we could sit down on the boat. However, this too surprised me by being interesting.

One fact I learned was the meaning of the Chicago flag.

The blue stripes represent the riverbanks, an obvious visual, but the stars caught my attention. Each star stands for an important event in the history of Chicago.

The first star represents Fort Dearborn, which established Chicago’s core. The second star is for the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, supposedly started when Kate O’Leary’s cow kicked over a lantern while being milked in the barn. Star number three is for the World’s Columbian Exposition of 1893 (the World’s Fair). Check out Erik Larson’s book, The Devil in the White City, to learn more about that. And number four marks the Century of Progress Exposition of 1933.

My first thought on hearing this set of facts was to wonder what Texas would consider star-worthy. But close on the heels of that was to question what my stars would represent. If I followed Chicago’s example, I would choose events that formed me, established my future, challenged me, and moments of triumph.

Hmm. Choosing my stars was harder than I expected it to be. Being a follower of Jesus has certainly directed my path. The births of my two children did as well. My divorce created a challenge, but graduating from college after seventeen years of chipping away at it was a definite triumph. That led me to becoming a teacher. I remarried, which altered my financial future, allowing me the freedom to become a writer.

What would your stars represent? Have you limited your flag to only four?

I think it’s important to realize these milestones. Be grateful for defining moments. Forge through the challenging ones. Celebrate the triumphs. And keep a space open for one more star.

Posted on

Are You Smarter Than the Average Bear?

Let me give you a dose of eighth-grade math PTSD. Who remembers mean, median, and mode, our initial foray into the (horrible, terrible, no good, very bad) world of statistics? If I were to rank all the college classes I’ve taken, Stats would be at the low end of the bottom tier. But, regardless of the scars it might have left on us all, most of us are familiar with finding the mean. (Averaging, in mere mortal speak.) Average is considered the middle of the road, the fifty percent mark. Anything greater than .50 is above average. Everything that falls beneath is below average. Simple enough concept.

Yet, according to a psychology study, sixty-five percent of Americans believe they are above average. [1]

Y’all, the math doesn’t work.

In these days of crippling self-confidence issues, maybe it’s good that we think we’re better than we actually are. Nothing wrong with a positive self-image, right? High self-confidence can give us the boost to try something scary, like hang-gliding, opening a new business, or raising bees.

I wonder why we’re predisposed to think of ourselves so highly. The study didn’t pinpoint the reason why we tend to overestimate ourselves, only that we do.

What I found disturbing was we give ourselves an above-average rating most often when judging ourselves morally. [2]

In other words, I am more likely to believe I am morally superior to those around me than, say, that I am more clever or wise.

Hmm. That caused me to do some serious self-reflection. How would I rank myself, compared to others, in aspects like intelligence, honesty, faithfulness, cleverness, competency, friendliness?

I recently read the novel, Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier. (Spoiler alert. I will discuss the ending of the novel.) In the story, the unnamed narrator is a young woman in her twenties who marries a wealthy Englishman in his forties after a whirlwind courtship. (Let’s call her Claire.) Claire grew up poor and was working as a lady’s companion when she met Maxim. She struggles with self-worth throughout the novel, especially when they arrive at Manderly and she learns about the beautiful, composed, socially graceful Rebecca, who died the year prior.

Claire convinces herself Maxim doesn’t truly love her because she believes he has never gotten over losing Rebecca. However, when a boat crashes near their home, the rescue operation discovers the sunken remains of Rebecca’s sailboat, with her decomposing body inside. Since Maxim identified “her” body two months after the accident, he becomes a suspect in Rebecca’s death.

He confesses to Claire that he actually hated Rebecca, who was cold, manipulative, and unfaithful. She goaded Maxim into shooting her, telling him she was pregnant with another man’s child. Maxim killed her, then took her out on the sailboat and scuttled it with her body inside.

When Claire hears Maxim’s confession, she does all she can to clear his name. She travels to London to see the doctor Rebecca visited the day she died and learns Rebecca was not actually pregnant. She had cancer. The doctor told her she had only months to live and would die in agony.

This information is shared with the prosecuting attorney, and when asked, Claire lies for Maxim. Though she knows he shot his wife, she tells them Rebecca was distraught with the news of the diagnosis and killed herself.

Now. Back to the morally superior question. On average, we tend to rank ourselves as “above average” on moral issues. However, if you found yourself in a similar situation, where you could reasonably excuse the bad actions of someone you loved, especially if the truth would ruin not only their life but also yours, would you lie to protect them? If your lie kept your child from going to prison? Your mother from the death penalty?

What would I do? Would I truly be a member of the “above average,” or would I be part of the 15% who thinks I am better, but who is fooling themselves? I hope and pray, should I ever be in this position, I would turn to God and trust in his providence. Regardless of how bad things looked, or how devastating my truth would be, I must hope I could do what the Bible teaches us.

Thou shalt not lie.

I hope I could stick myself close to God, like a grass burr attaches to my sock, and trust his guidance would carry me through whatever heartache might come.

What about you? If you were Claire, would you have handled things differently? If you have a story like Claire’s where God brought you through the fire, share it with us so we can draw strength for our own trials.

[1] https://tinyurl.com/SmarterSurvey

[2] https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5641986/

Posted on

The most important thing people did for me was to expose me to new things. Temple Grandin

If you’re like most people, you tend to cross the road when you see change coming. We enjoy the comfort of doing / being / experiencing things we know.

But I like to mix things up every now and then. One easy thing to try is reading something written by an author I’ve never experienced. Being a writer means I have an unending supply of new material to sample. I enjoy supporting my fellow authors by purchasing their books, encouraging their efforts, and sharing the news of their accomplishments.

Today, I want to introduce you to Jodie Wolfe. Jodie’s tagline is “Where Hope and Quirky Meet.” If that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know about how Jodie writes, then see for yourself. She is doing a guest post for me today, so friends, meet Jodie!

Peace and God’s Creation – by Jodie Wolf

Every fall I look forward to going to the mountains behind our home to hike and enjoy the beauty of God’s Creation and the beautiful colors He has on display. Last year, my husband and I discovered a reservoir in the middle of the mountain. Even though we’ve lived in the area for over thirty years, we hadn’t heard about it. At the time, we couldn’t walk around much because I was in a surgical boot after having foot surgery a few months before.

This year, I couldn’t wait for the leaves to change on the mountain so we could go explore. I packed a picnic supper, and we left as soon as my husband got home from work. For the most part, we had the lake and the incredible view all to ourselves. As we sat down to our meal after hiking on one of the trails, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of God’s Creation. His peace flooded my soul. I couldn’t help but feel the trees were singing for joy with their colors on full display. It reminded me of this verse from Psalm 96:12 (NIV).

Let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them; let all the trees of the forest sing forest sing for joy.

As we left the area and started our drive home, my heart was at peace—His peace.

Peace is something my character in my new book, Wooing Gertrude, struggles with. Here’s a peek at the back cover blurb:

Enoch Valentine has given up finding peace for his past mistakes. He throws everything he has into being the new part-time deputy in Burrton Springs, Kansas, while maintaining the foreman position at a local horse ranch. But when trouble stirs on the ranch, he questions whether he’s the right man for either job.

Peace has been elusive for most of Gertrude Miller’s life, especially under the oppressiveness of an overbearing mother. She takes matters into her own hands and sends for a potential husband, while also opening her own dress shop. Gertrude hopes to build a future where she’ll find peace and happiness.

Will either of them ever be able to find peace?

(me again:) I enjoy stories about strong-willed, independent women. I feel sure this one will make me laugh. If you’re interested in trying something new, you can purchase Jodie’s book here:

Purchase Links

Ebook: https://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=1635

Print: https://pelicanbookgroup.com/ec/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=1636

Jodie Wolfe creates novels where hope and quirky meet. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW), and Faith, Hope, & Love Christian Writers (FHLCW). She’s been a semi-finalist and finalist in various writing contests. A former columnist for Home School Enrichment magazine, her articles can be found online at: Crosswalk, Christian Devotions, and Heirloom Audio. When not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband in Pennsylvania, reading, walking, and being a Grammie. Learn more at www.jodiewolfe.com.

Social Media Links

Website: https://www.jodiewolfe.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Jodie-Wolfe-553400191384913

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/jodie-wolfe

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/JodieAWolfe

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15220520.Jodie_Wolfe

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jodie-Wolfe/e/B01EAWOHXO/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

I hope you enjoy Jodie’s book. And if you still need ideas for Christmas gifts, any of books one (Protected), two (A Father’s Gift – set at Christmastime), and three (Accepted) in my San Antonio series would make perfect stocking stuffers. Available on Amazon.

Posted on

Promise is a big word. It either makes something or it breaks something.

Since my husband, John, and I retired, we are now free to spend more time on “Grandparent duties.” Things like taking kids to the dentist so Mom doesn’t have to take off work. Or running forgotten things to the school, like homework or a Chrome book.

One thing I enjoy the most is meeting my grandkids at their schools for lunch. Parents don’t usually have this luxury. So, me and John showing up with a restaurant lunch is a special treat.

When we take lunch to my son Zach’s kids, it’s an all-day affair. He has four children, and three of them are at the same school. When we go see the young ones, we’re there for the long haul. The ladies in the front office laugh when they see us coming, loaded down like a pack mule.

Telling them we’ll come can seem like a small thing, a promise easily broken. After all, I justify to myself, I can always go next week. Missing a particular day is no big deal.

But I saw firsthand how wrong that assumption is.

Last week was Grandparents’ Day at Zach’s kids’ school. Liam, the oldest of the three, asked if we could come. John had plans, but of course, I said I’d be there.

Because it was Grandparents’ Day, a line had formed in the front office.

I headed down to the lunchroom to get a table while a runner went for the boys. Because of the delay, Alice’s class was already seated by the time I arrived. Usually, we’re there waiting for them, and we surprise them as they’re walking in from recess. But Liam told the other two we would be there, so Alice watched the door, waiting for me to come in.

She had just turned away when I entered, so she didn’t see me. Her shoulders slumped. She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head on them. Was she upset? I snuck up behind her, covered her eyes with my hands, and said, “Guess who’s here?”

When she lifted her face and turned toward me, a grin split her face from ear to ear, but a lone tear slipped down her cheek. She thought I wasn’t coming. She thought I had broken my promise. With a quick hug, all was made right in the world. We headed to the parents’ table, where the boys soon joined us.

What if I’d changed my mind? What if I told myself, “You’re busy . . . so many things to do today. Just go next week?” Alice’s tear gave the answer to that question.

One thing we can always trust in is God. He always keeps His promises. The Bible tells us, “He remains faithful. He cannot deny Himself.” 2 Timothy 2:13.

In Deuteronomy 31:8, God promised to never leave us or forsake us. Never will He leave sitting at the lunch table wondering where He is.

This knowledge of God’s faithfulness gets me through tough times. When I feel like life spins out of control or wonder why events didn’t pan out the way I expected, I fall back on this belief. God has promised to work all things out to the good of those who love him (Romans 8:28).

But best of all, nothing I can ever do will cause Him to stop loving me. One of my favorite verses in the Bible says this:

38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

That’s a powerful promise. And if ever I forget it and lay my head down to cry, I know God will come up behind me and say, “Guess who’s here?”

Posted on

Book review day!

I spent a lot of time on a plane last week, so managed to squeeze in some good reading time. Here are reviews on two I recently finished.

First is a contemporary romance written by Mindy Obenhaus. If you enjoy the second-chance romance trope, this book will be right up your alley.

Love Inspired stories (the Christian branch of Harlequin Romance) follow a predictable format, so it is doubtful anything in this story will surprise you. Nevertheless, that won’t keep you from enjoying it. School-day friends meet up again 16 years or so later, both with some life experiences and hurts behind them. They have a painful past to overcome, but of course, they do. Yay!

Love Inspired books are carried at Walmart, but are also available using this link to Amazon. You can read my review on Goodreads below:

Loving the Rancher’s Children by Mindy Obenhaus
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
If you like the second-chances trope, you’ll enjoy this book. I liked how the characters were both in their 30s, so there was some life experience behind the story. The rancher’s children were predictably adorable. I also enjoyed the descriptions of the rancher lifestyle (I live in Texas). That part was very authentic. The only part that didn’t ring 100% true for me was the “fight” that had split the couple up back in the day. I’m not sure that would’ve had the power to carry that hurt for the next 16 years or so. But, discounting that minor detail, it was a thoroughly enjoyable read.
View all my reviews

The other book I finished was Michelle Griep’s Man of Shadow and Mist.

I really enjoyed this book. It was my first read of Michelle Griep’s novels, so obviously, I haven’t read book one in the Of Monsters and Men series. Yet! You can read this book as a stand-alone and will have no trouble keeping up without having read the previous story.
Man of Shadow and Mist does a good job of setting up questions in the reader’s mind about whether there is actually a vampire afoot or not. The townspeople certainly think so, but Rosa believes differently. She makes it her project to disabuse them of their superstitious fears. I enjoyed the historical aspect of the story; Griep does a good job of showing us the setting. If you enjoy stories where the underdog has to struggle against unfair judgements and prejudices, you’ll enjoy this one too.

Available using this link at Amazon.