Category: Katie Ganshert

This Christmas didn’t feel much like Christmas. Mainly because the week leading up to it, hubby got sick, then I got sick. It was like 96 hours of delirium. Then, just when we thought we were all in the clear, hubby got slammed again. On Christmas Eve. A constant deluge of throw up (ew). We were supposed to drive to Wisconsin. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. So while hubby camped out in the bathroom, I took Brogan to Christmas Eve service all by myself. In the rain. Oh yeah. Did I mention that it rained ALL day long on Christmas Eve? A constant down pour. It felt sort of weird. Being at church without Ryan. Knowing we were supposed to be in Wisconsin. Having to use an umbrella on December 24th.

I had all these expectations for Christmas this year. I thought I’d go shopping the week before. I thought I’d have fun picking out cool presents. But I was too sick or taking care of somebody who was sick to give much attention to gifts. Then I thought we’d have a fun time driving to Wisconsin and celebrating with Ryan’s family. That didn’t happen either. We ended up driving up Christmas morning. Ryan slept in the back of the van with Bubba while my windshield wipers squeaked against the windshield the entire two and a half hours (yes, it rained all day on Christmas too). I thought it would be cozy and white, not rainy and gray. I thought I’d feel very tuned into Jesus and the miracle of His birth, but I was flat-out distracted.

Needless to say, my expectations weren’t met.

I had to ask myself, after moping around the house: Katie, how are you handling the unexpected?

Because, really, that’s what life is, isn’t it? Unexpected.

We have an image or an idea in our head about how something is going to be. How something will play out. Expectations chase us wherever we go. We have them for nearly everything. Marriage. Relationships. Jobs. Parenthood. Writing. Health. Faith. The new year. The future.

Sometimes, or maybe a lot of times, our expectations go unmet. For whatever reason, what we imagined and what ends up happening just don’t fit together. Something unexpected happens and throws everything off course.

That’s just life.

We can’t control it. We can only control how we respond to it. And we usually have two choices. We can choose to mope around the house because things aren’t going how we expected. Or we can choose to embrace the unexpected. To embrace it in all its messy glory. To embrace it because we only get one life to live, and time’s too short and valuable to waste on pouting.

Question to Ponder: How do you handle the unexpected?removetweetmeme

Cares:
Mark Twain is quoted to have said: I would have written a shorter letter, but I didn’t have the time.

I think Mark Twain pretty much sums up my venture into rough draft writing. Every story I’ve written has turned out to be around 100,000 words the first time around. Inevitably, I whittle that number count down to 80,000, give or take a few. I can totally relate to Mark Twain. My first drafts ramble. This one is my longest yet. I’m past the 100,000 word mark and have nine more important/climactic scenes to go. Hip-hip-hurray for the delete button!

Concerns:
Yeah, um, Christmas shopping? Still haven’t done it yet. It’s going to be a busy weekend.

Husband = sick, sick, sick. Please, oh pretty please, let this not spread to the rest of us!

Celebrations:
So close to finishing the rough draft of Wishing on Willows! Makes me bounce in my seat just thinking about it. There’s always a small part of me that freaks out when I endeavor to write a new book. A small part that says, “Those last three were just a fluke. You won’t be able to do it again.” I’m quite sure that voice won’t ever go away, but it’s nice to shove it in the closet for the time being.

Question to Ponder: What are your cares, concerns, and celebrations today?removetweetmeme

I love to read. But I will be the first to admit I’m picky when it comes to fiction. It’s hard for me to pick up a book and get lost in its pages. Occasionally, it happens. I start reading a book and the story sweeps me away, transports me to a different time and place. Even less occasionally, quite rarely in fact, a book comes along that doesn’t just sweep me away, but leaves a fingerprint on my soul, leaves me different from when I first started reading. It changes something inside me. Gets me to look at the world and my faith differently, alters my lenses.

The books I consider life-changing, for me, are few and far between – easily counted on the fingers of my left hand. Recently, I’ve added one more to the ranks. Havah: The Story of Eve, by Tosca Lee. A month after finishing, and I still can’t stop thinking about it. About Eve. About how real she became between the covers of that book. About the pain and hardship she had to endure. Talk about taking the story of creation and breathing life into it.

Contrary to what you might be thinking, I didn’t write this post to give a glowing review of Havah, no matter how deserving. I actually wrote it to reflect on life-changing fiction in general. What makes it life-changing? Is it the prose? The story? The theme? The characters? A mysterious combination of all four, plus the Holy Spirit moving in the reader? And can I write life-changing fiction?

I think I can write engaging fiction. I think God has given me the ability to tell a good story. But life-changing? Not sure if I’ve reached that place yet. Not sure if I will. Not sure if every author who pens a story is meant to. Or needs to. But wow, when it happens, there’s something very magical about it. Something very profound. Something very….well, life-changing.

Questions to Ponder: Do you want to change lives with your writing? Have you ever read a life-changing fictional book? If so, please share!removetweetmeme