God’s Silence

Do you ever feel like God is silent?

Are you convinced the silence means He’s not listening, or He doesn’t care, or maybe He’s not even there?

Perhaps you’ve prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed about this one person, or this one thing, or this one situation. You’re desperate for relief or confirmation or acknowledgement or peace. Your knees are sore from all the praying, from all the waiting. And yet….

God is silent.

I recently heard an incredibly powerful sermon by Dan Buraga, the young adult pastor at my church.

He preached from the story of Esther.

He talked about how Esther, a Jewish queen, delivered God’s people from death.

Then he made the connection to Jesus – our ultimate deliverer.

He made the connection to the most crucial moment in history, when God’s beloved son hung on that cross and cried out to His father from the depths of his soul, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

And the Father, who had perfect communion with the Son, did not answer. He did not reach out and save His boy.

God was silent.

And in that silence, He offered deliverance to us all.

This is the same God whose name can be found in one form or another in every single book in the Bible.

Every single book except one.

The book of Esther.

A story of deliverance.

And God is not mentioned once. He is completely and utterly silent. Just as He was completely and utterly silent that day on the cross.

Yet His presence shouts.

From the pages of Esther, where a Jewish queen saves her people. From Golgotha, where Jesus was crucified. From the temple, where the curtain was torn. From the earth that shook. And the sky that darkened.

His presence shouts.

And we’re reminded that God’s silence does not mean His absence.

Let’s Talk: How do you handle God’s silence?

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Evocative Writing: An Ah-ha Moment

Thanks to my amazingly talented editor, Shannon Marchese, I recently had a big-time epiphany. She shared with me a writing tip I have yet to find in any craft book. Which is saying a lot because I’ve read so many.

Lately, I’ve been working on line-edits. I did my first big round a couple weeks ago. There were several places where my line editor would highlight something and write, “This doesn’t work.”

90% of the time, I’d delete the line. The other 10%, I’d keep it and try to explain why I wanted to keep it. Usually, the reason boiled down to emotion. I felt as if deleting the line would weaken the emotional punch I was trying to pack with my words.

Here’s the thing.

I want to be an evocative writer. I want to transport my readers into the story. I want to make them feel what the characters are feeling. Which means I spend a lot of time trying to imagine what something feels like, and then trying to figure out how to translate those feelings into words.

Which is exactly what I tried to do when my hero touched my heroine’s arm for the first time. I sat in my chair and I tapped my chin and I tried to think, “What does this feel like? And how can I write this feeling in a fresh way?”

I didn’t want to write: electricity sizzled up her arm.

How many times have we read that line?

So instead, I wrote: Something warm spread through her arm, as if she’d dipped her elbow into a bowl of hot pudding.

Okay, I’m laughing as I write this, because in hindsight, I can see it’s pretty silly. But let me tell you, I really liked this line. It made me feel clever.

So when my line editor highlighted it and said, “This isn’t working”, this fell into the 10% where I pushed back. I wrote, “But that’s totally what it feels like!”

Here’s where the epiphany comes in.

Shannon gave me a call and as we were talking she said, “You’re right. That is what it feels like. But elbows in pudding are not appetizing to people. It’s warm, but it’s messy and makes a person feel like they need a paper towel to wipe off their elbow. So what else does it feel like?”

Something in my brain started to click.

She went on to explain that just because a line isn’t working doesn’t mean I’m supposed to delete it. In fact, Shannon didn’t want me to delete it. She wanted me to make the line work. To keep the feeling intact using different imagery.

The clicking became very clear and all of a sudden, I got it.

Pinpointing how something feels is important. But using the right imagery to evoke those feelings is equally important.  

Instead of deleting those lines, I needed to figure out how to evoke the same feeling in a way that works for my audience. I write romance. So when my readers read that scene, I don’t want them to feel like they need to wipe off their elbow. I want them to feel warm and giddy. Not warm and messy.

So here’s what I did:
1. For each of the lines that weren’t working, I asked: How does this feel?

2. Once I pinpointed the feeling, I asked: What imagery or words can I use to evoke this feeling?

3. I brainstormed several options.

4. I picked the one that captured the feeling in a way that enhanced the story, rather than distracted from it.

I worked through many of my problem lines in this way, and I have to tell you, my writing is better for it.

Deleting the lines would have been easy. But my writing would have lost some of it’s spark.

Keeping the lines would have been easy. But my writing might have distracted some of my readers.

Changing the lines took time and effort and hurt my brain a little. But it made my writing so much better.

Isn’t this so true for life? The easy way is very rarely the best way. And good enough so often gets in the way of just right.

Let’s Talk: When your agent, critique partner, or editor tells you something isn’t working, are you most tempted to delete it, keep it, or change it? Do you ever let good enough get in the way of the best?

Please stop over to Kristen Johnson’s blog, where she asks me some really great questions about dealing with discouragement, facing insecurity, and pressing on toward publication.removetweetmeme

Real Life Romance

In the wide genre of romance, there are all kinds of romantic pairings.

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We’ve got the opposites who attract
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The best friends. 
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The soul mates
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The good girl who falls in love with the bad boy
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The nice guy who falls in love with the hardened woman
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And that’s just scratching the surface.

Ryan and I were complete strangers. All I knew about him was that he made me giddy whenever he’d come to my workplace to deliver a new package. Now, nine years later, we’re married and it’s hard to think I lived nineteen years without him.

In some ways we’re opposite. I’m pretty outgoing, I have an easy time opening up to people, and I have no problem being in the spotlight (shocker, I know!). Ryan, however, is shy. He has a hard time opening up to people until he gets to know them and he most definitely does not like being in any sort of spotlight.

But in other ways, we’re similar. We have the same faith, the same sense of humor, and the same living habits. All of which made becoming man and wife quite easy. Some people say that first year of marriage is  the most difficult, but for Ryan and I, living with and adjusting to each other was as easy as one, two, three.

Let’s Talk: Tell me about your real-life romance (even you lurkers out there)! I love hearing these stories! Did you fall in love with your best friend? Your enemy? The bad boy? The nice guy? If you have yet to give your heart away, what prototype do you envision for yourself?

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