Keeping Going or Changing Direction?

On a recent trip down the Great Ocean Road in Victoria we stopped off to see a waterfall.  This was the point where we turned off the highway. 

I have a passion for waterfalls.  I gave this passion for waterfalls to one of my male characters in Streets on a Map. There is something about the rush of water and the thunder of the water falling that I find serene. When we got to the point where we had to leave the car and walk, we investigated the information sign to find out how far to the falls. Wouldn’t you know that piece of the information had been weather affected and was unreadable? However underneath it informed us the round trip to take in the waterfall and several other scenic sights was 7 kilometres. ‘How far can it be just to the waterfall?’ we wondered. We decided to give it a go.

The way led up a number of steep steps, then along for bit then more steep steps. We began to wonder about the wisdom of our decision. We saw people panting and puffing coming back. ‘How far we asked them?’  The man smiled. ‘Maybe half a kilometre.’  Even though legs were already protesting about the number of steep steps climbed, we could manage more. On and on we went and still no sign of a water fall. Many times we almost turned back. Our calves protested. But sheer stubbornness kept us going forward. More steps and not all of them going up as we expected. Some went down, before they turned back up again.

Eventually when it seemed we would give up we heard the waterfall. We must be nearly there. We pressed on. And on and on. Still no sign of a waterfall. Obviously the man who’d told us half a kilometre must have forgotten the other five or six kilometres, we decided. With aching legs and more than a little dispirited, we continued. 

The sound of the waterfall grew a little louder. Then we turned a corner and we could see it a little. Another couple short of breath came towards us. ‘How far is it?’ we asked. ‘About the same distance as you have already come.’  We thanked him. We looked at the path still curving upwards with myriad more steps. We thought back over the way we had already come and all the steps we had to retrace the stairs to get back to the car and made a decision. No way! We had been crazy to even attempt it. We knew this was as close as we were getting to that waterfall.  A glance at each other and we produced the camera. If you look carefully you will see the faintest glimpse of that waterfall in the distance.

By the time we got finally back to the car we were stiff, with just about every part of us aching. We collapsed into the seat with relief and drove further on. When I saw a sign to another waterfall, the look my husband gave me was priceless. However being the loving guy he is, he obligingly took the turn. By this time a violent wind had sprung up. It was a case of dodging branches falling off the gum trees as he drove. But we kept going and made it safely to the lookout site. ‘If it doesn’t tell us how far, or it’s more than a short stroll, I’m not budging,’ my husband announced. I could hardly blame him. I felt much the same.

When we reached the sign it told us 100 metres. No worries. Tired as we were, we could manage that.  So we got to enjoy the second waterfall more fully. Here are the photo.

Sometimes with writing it can feel like that first trek. We keep pressing on and on and yet never seem to get any closer to the goal. We have a choice - either to keep going or to give up and change direction and head off somewhere else as we did with the waterfalls. It’s hard to know at what point you stop trying to persist with something that doesn’t seem to be working. It might be better to put it aside and start on something new. Later, if you come back to it you may pick up why it wasn’t working before. I have done that with some poems and fiction. Other times it may just be consigned to the ‘put away and perhaps work on one day or maybe never pile.’

Yes, we could all say ‘pray about it,’ but sometimes God doesn’t make it as clear as we would like. Of course the other alternative is He is not giving us the answer we want to hear, so we choose to ignore it. So how do we know what we should do in this circumstance? Over to you to see if you have any wise suggestions.

Dale writes fiction, poetry, children’s fiction, bible studies and has written puppet plays and Sunday school lessons. As well as writing and reading, Dale loves to sing. She is involved in the music ministry at her church. More information about Dale can be found at www.daleharcombe.com or on her Write and Read with Dale blog http://www.livejournal.com/users/orangedale/

Flowers anyone?

 

 

 

Nearly everybody I know has a favourite flower. One of mine is orchids, especially moth orchids, which are about the only indoor plant I seem to be able to keep alive.

Another is sweet peas which I adore for the perfume as much as their colours. They are also the perfect size for a small vase of flowers to grace a table. I also love anything that flowers in the blue and purple shades. Plumbago, jacaranda, agapanthus,

blue hydrangea and petunias,

 that’s just to name a few of the blue and purple flowers in my garden.

 

But what about in writing? Have you ever thought about giving your character a favourite flower? People's likes in flowers can reveal so much about them. In Streets on a Map, Laila’s father had a passion for roses, in particular the Mr Lincoln, which I admit I also adore. Though I do not have one growing in this garden, I have in past gardens. In Sandstone Madonna , the novel  I am currently working an autistic boy has a passion for daffodils.

It made me think of a boy I knew years ago. He loved poppies. Why? Who knows? Maybe they were a reminder to him of something someone who loved him had grown? Maybe because they are so fragile. One gust of wind and all the petals are blown off. For a foster child who was shuffled from place to place that could very well describe his life.

Someone else I knew once dug all the yellow daffodils that the previous owner had planted in the lawn out. She replaced them with white daffodils. To me that sounds just the sort of quirk that could be used effectively for a character.  That was something too good to lose.

Another friend of mine likes sunflowers. To her they are big and bright and cheerful. As far as I’m, concerned, sunflower seeds are only good for putting in a muesli mix. To me, sunflowers are bold and brash.

In The Lost Hours, a recent book I read by Karen White, the woman had learned a lot about gardening from a friend. When her granddaughter went blind, this woman created a garden based not by colour but by perfume. What a great idea I thought as I read the book. It revealed something about the character that created the garden as well as the love she had for her granddaughter. I could almost smell that garden  

So next time you’re writing a character ask yourself what is their favourite flower? What else might they have in their garden?

Maybe they like cactus? I’m not a lover of cactus bit I do have one that I inherited from my mum. Isn't it beautiful when it flowers? It’s like it’s made of tapestry.

I’d love to hear about your favourite flower or one you have used effectively in a novel or found that struck you in a book you have been reading. Please share it with us all.

 

Dale writes fiction and poetry. Her latest novel Streets on a Map is currently available as an E book. She has also written children’s books, bible studies, Sunday school material, devotionals, and articles about marriage, home and Christian living. She is currently at work on a new novel, titled Sandstone Madonna.

Asking the Right Question

I freely admit I am not the world’s keenest or best gardener.  Our garden is more a survival of the fittest. But sometimes neglect can be taken too far.

I have two browallia in my garden. One, the newer plant, was alight with its orange and yellow flowers.

 

The older browallia was struggling to produce flowers. A friend, who came round knowing my husband and I are not knowledgeable gardeners but are always keen for advice, said, ’No wonder this browallia isn’t doing any good. Look at it! Its roots are all uncovered.’

Sure enough they were, a consequence no doubt of recent strong winds that had whipped through our area, stripping the soil from around the roots. The roots we exposed. Good reason why my poor bush wasn’t doing well. My husband got some rich potting soil and packed it around the bush so the roots were once again covered. A short time later it started to bloom till the bush was smothered in vibrant flowers.

So what does this have to do with writing? Everything I would suggest. Each of us needs to be firmly rooted in God’s Word. How can we hope to convey truths to others though our fiction, our devotionals, our poetry or whatever else we are writing unless we are firmly grounded and rooted in the Word of God? But too often it is easy to let Satan get in with the winds of discouragement and despair, or winds of criticism that make us doubt ourselves, our writing ability and our calling. I’ve been experiencing that lately. What happened? It stopped me in my tracks. The novel I was working on stalled. After all what was the point? I’d never get it finished and even if I did, it would never get published. Those were the thoughts that kept insinuating themselves and circulating in my mind.

I’d let go of God’s initial prompting and His promises. I’d let negativity take over and like that unrooted browallia I was not flowering the way I should. But God didn’t give up on me.

Sometimes it takes a while to get through to me. Thankfully the Lord didn’t give up. First I received a couple of emails. One was from another Aussie Christian writer saying how much they enjoyed Streets on a Map.  Then a friend sent me an email from a non Christian relative who received it as a birthday gift. She emailed that she ‘absolutely loved the book’ and was ‘looking forward to reading another novel’ from me. She wouldn’t have gone near Streets on a Map if the label Christian fiction had been attached to it. To her it was just a book.

As if those prompts were not enough, a lady at church mentioned that her teenage daughter was recently re-reading and enjoying Streets on a Map. She then asked what was writing now. When I told her ‘nothing,’ she asked why. I didn’t want to go into any details. But then she asked me a question. ‘Is it worrying you not writing?’

Suddenly that question, on top of our pastor’s sermon about not giving up, was like a lightning bolt hit right in front of me. I realised it was worrying me. That writing a few poems, blogs or book reviews were not enough. I needed to get back to the novel I had started a while back.

So yes, I not only got back into writing it but told her the next Sunday what had happened. She was pleased as she realised that it had been God using her mouth and words that got me back to work. Whether Sandstone Madonna is ever published or not, is not up to me. It is simply not my problem. All I have to do is be obedient, and write and try and make it the best it can be. The rest is His job.

Dale writes fiction and poetry. Her latest novel is Streets on a Map is currently available as an E book. She has also written children’s books, bible studies, Sunday school material, devotionals, and articles about marriage, home and Christian living. She is currently at work on a new novel, tentatively titled Sandstone Madonna.