Want to change the world? Start in your neighborhood.

“Is it true that in America there are so many sweets they line streets and everyone can pick them up and eat them whenever they want without ever paying?”

The question was posed to me on my last night in Zana by a girl in her early teens. We had just finished playing our tenth round of Jenga after eating super together. It took my friend Levi and I a couple of minutes to explain that yes, in the States there are sweets aplenty—far more than we should eat in a lifetime—but we do have to pay for them.

After saying our good byes a short time later, I returned to my room to finish packing. I found myself still mulling over the girl’s question. It wasn’t the first put to me regarding the wealth of America, and though we were getting ready to fly home, it wasn’t the last either.

A matter of perspective

It doesn’t matter who we are, or where we come from. Each of us is subject to our own perspective. It’s the lens through which we see the world, and is largely shaped and formed through our own experiences.

Sometimes those perceptions end up being a little cloudy.

One of the most common misconceptions I discovered while in Uganda was that in America there are no troubles. We all live in mansions, wear the latest fashions, hook up with the first beautiful person we see, and drive the most expensive cars. When many hear “American” they automatically think “money.” And by money they mean no hardship, no harm, and no heartbreak.

In America life is perfect.

I won’t argue we have it pretty good here — far better than many of us realize. But all I have to do is drive down my own road to see that we also have hardship, harm, and heartbreak just like the rest of the world.

On the street corner stands an old man. His jacket threadbare, his greasy hair slicked down by the cold drizzle. He isn’t holding a sign, but the haunted expression in his eyes cuts me to the core because I’m as powerless to help him as I was to offer long-term care for the people I met in Africa.

I don’t know what misfortunes brought him to this place. Was it a series of poor choices? Has he, like me, been unable to find permanent work? Is his spirit completely crushed, or is there yet a tiny ember waiting for a gentle breath to touch it and create a new flame?

Coming to a new understanding 

Before I left for Uganda a number of people told me how much they admired me for giving up time and comfort to share with complete strangers in another country. My first day in Zana the same thing was said of our group and I felt a twinge of guilt. At the time, I wasn’t sure why. All I knew was I didn’t feel that I was making a difficult sacrifice by being there. For me it was a privilege and an honor.

Now that I’m home and have had time to think, I believe I figured out what bothered me. We view it as a noble thing to take our charity across borders, but how often do we carry it across the street? We donate towards food and education for starving children in third-world nations (and rightfully so!), but how many in my own community are going to bed with an empty tummy tonight?

While the poor of the world are pitied, so often here in the US they are scorned. I discovered that for myself at a young age and spent my entire young life vowing to escape that stigma. It took traveling abroad for me to realize how backward my thinking has been.

When asked what the greatest commandment of all was, Jesus responded: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all of your mind. And love your neighbor as yourself.”

Putting that knowledge to work

For too long my perspective has caused me to look overlook the needs of those nearest to me. Like my sweet-loving teen I’ve seen America as the place were we have all the means necessary to take care of ourselves without help from anyone else. We just have to make it happen. Those who don’t do so bring their misfortunes upon themselves. I’ve learned for myself this past year, that isn’t always the case.

Rather than being part of the solution, I’ve been part of the problem. And this is something I have to choose to change in myself. What does it matter if I travel the globe aiding others while ignoring those hurting in my own hometown?

One thing I learned in Uganda was the most valuable gift you could give anyone is your time. Even if I don’t have a spare penny, I do have a smile and a kind word to remind even the poorest drunk that he is a person of value. He is not forgotten. And he is never truly alone.

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing — Day 14: Lessons in Time Management

I’ve been told busy people are organized people. To which I respond, “You’ve obviously never seen my desk during production week!”

I can understand the concept. I find I’m the most productive when I have an over-full plate. I don’t know if it’s the writer in me that thrills at the looming countdown of an approaching deadline, or if it’s a holdover from my school days when I naturally put everything off until the night before it was due. Whatever the case, I’ve found that if I have the time available to me, I’m downright lazy! I waste time playing games I don’t even like. I revisit websites that I’ve already read every story on. I even flip through Netflix selections just to kill time. I justify it all by saying I’m just tired and need a break to clear my mind — which to an extent is true.

Thanksgiving week is here. Visitors are on their way. I have my contributions to prepare for our big family dinner. I also have my writing to keep up with (somebody please remind me why we plan events like NaNoWrMo at the beginning of the holiday season?), and I’m also in the middle of a major deadline at work.

I’m prying my eyes open to write this because I’ve just come off a 12-hour day of non-stop editing and too much coffee. The perk was that after everyone else went home for the night, I got to crank up my “.Doc Playlist” while preparing articles for the art director to layout. It reminded me of being in college when I wasn’t just taking a full course load of British and American Lit, Linguistics, Creative Writing, and Lit Crit, I was somehow working a fulltime editorial job, as well.

I listened to this same playlist into the wee hours of many a morning, fretting over papers that weren’t being written and wondering when I’d finally get to go to bed — or if I would ever have a real life. But those two years were also my most productive in terms of creative writing. Even when I had the downtime my brain was churning out more story ideas than it has in any time since.

It’s exhausting being busy. But looking back over today and my past I can also see truth in the statement that busy people are organized people. When juggling multiple jobs the only way to successfully complete anything is to properly manage your time. During weeks like these I always formulate a plan of attack so I don’t forget to do anything. And believe it or not, it somehow all gets done. Properly.

As my workload has increased, I have also once again seen my creativity revived. I’m writing more, and I’m enjoying every minute of it. Being busy also means I get to enjoy the downtime that much more when I finally hit SAVE on that last file for the night.

Now that is really something to be thankful for.

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 10: Mom & Dad

It’s easy to focus on the negative in the world around us. In observation of a month many dedicate to counting their blessings, I’ve started a 30-day challenge in which I’ll focus on one aspect of my writing life for which I am thankful. I’d love to have you join by sharing about something that has blessed your own writing life in the comments section below. - Jen

I really have my parents to thank for me becoming an active writer. After burning myself out my junior year of college my dad put me to work helping him at the family business. And I have learned more than just how to be a writer and editor as a result.

See, dad’s been in publishing in some form or other since I was a kid. First he moderated an electronic bulletin board back in the mid-80s, and he produced a small Atari Computer-related newsletter that eventually grew into a magazine. He eventually went to work for Atari’s in-house publication but found himself unexpectedly unemployed in the spring of 1992 when the company closed down its home computing department. After that he was approached by his former printer back in Oregon who ultimately ended up investing in my dad and helped him start Model Railroad News in 1995.

Working for a train magazine was never something I aspired to while growing up. To be fair, writing wasn’t on the agenda either. But here I was in the midst of a major life crisis and dad had a problem of his own, his long-time editor had decided to change everything about his life — including his family — and left without giving any notice. Needing something to do, I offered to help out with some simple projects until dad found a replacement, which we did more quickly than we expected. He was a retired teacher, a self-professed train nut, and an avid storyteller and writer. The one stipulation was that I stick around to do some of the editorial slog work. I had to keep busy somehow, so I agreed and found myself employed as an editorial assistant.

I learned more about War Bonnets and the Galloping Goose (nothing to do with birds or horses!), 3-bay hoppers and tank cars, and other railroad-related facts than I ever wanted to know. I also learned a lot about our nation’s history as a result. (Few people these days realize just how big a role the railroad played in the development of the United States.) Starting out, my main job was writing new product announcements for various manufacturers, which taught me the importance of conveying information in a clear and concise manner. I also began honing my editing skills by helping with the final copy edit of each issue. In the spring of 2002 I left the science world behind and signed up as and English and Writing major. My life as a writer began.

As with any job there are perks and pitfalls when it comes to working for a family-run business — for one, it’s always the main topic at family gatherings — but what I was learning in school complemented what I was doing at work, and vice versa. By the time I graduated two years later I had something most of my peers did not: actual work experience in my field of study. However, doing research I found most of the openings were looking for five years of experience, so I committed to working for the family for another three years.

Life happens and come January those three years will have stretched into eight, giving me my 10-year pin at LampLight Publishing. I have worked my way up the ladder to a Managing Editor position and get to torture my younger sister who became my editorial assistant to help pay her way through college.  Yes, there have been arguments and plenty of head butting along the way, but there have also been some incredible blessings. I’ve been able to continue my education through writing programs such as The Christian Writers Guild. I’ve been given time off to attend Writers Conferences. I’m able to take occasional personal days just because I want to write. And I’ve been able to be really involved in youth ministry, which I absolutely love with all my heart.

I’ll be the first to admit I don’t always like the subject matter of my job. There are also days I worry people won’t take me seriously because my parents sign my paycheck. (My Senior Editors have all been unrelated and taskmasters in their own right, by the by.) However, if it weren’t for this job I would never have dared to dream I could make my way through the world with a pen, a notebook, and an eye for details. 

As is true of many small business these days, things are really tight for our little publishing company, but we continue to press on, chugging up the hill like the Brave Little Steam Engine facing this economic downturn with determination one breath at a time (sorry, couldn’t resist). And my parents continue to encourage me to pursue the things in life I love most.

So mom and dad, in case I’ve never truly expressed my gratitude before, thanks! Thanks for giving me an experience not many parents can offer to their children. And thanks for helping me find where my true talents lie.

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 9: Words of Affirmation

It’s been said there are five love languages — the manner in which one communicates her feelings for another — and that each of us tend to gravitate towards one or another. There is an entire series of books dedicated to the subject, and a website as well, to help individuals determine their native “tongue.” I stumbled on the site earlier this year after hearing about it from other people and decided to take the quiz out of curiosity. I wasn’t all that surprised by the results. According to the quiz, my most prominent way of expressing love was through words of affirmation. Nothing builds me up or tears me down as quickly as what a person says to me, and in turn nothing conveys how I feel towards others so much as what comes out of my mouth.

I firmly believe there is no more powerful tool nor as deadly a weapon as the WORD. Give me sticks and stones (not really), but don’t cut me down with your mouth.

It was for this reason I decided early on that when I wrote the purpose would be to build and encourage others. Whether I’m writing fiction, an article, or just a letter, I try to ask myself: What is my purpose in writing? What is my motive?

It’s also the reason you’ll find inspirational quotes scattered around my office and apartment. They spur me on when I’m tired. The cheer me up when I’m ready to chuck my manuscript in a furnace five times hotter than Nebuchadnezzar’s. And they push me to try harder in areas I’m struggling with.

Some of the quotes are from books I’ve read or by writers I admire. But my favorites by far are the words of affirmation from friends and family.

I am blessed to have an amazing support group. No matter how many times I scrap a chapter, they’re rooting me on. I have people who I’ve barely (or never) met send notes thanking me for something they say I did that touched their lives in some way. I have encouragement cards that are several years old and they still bring tears to my eyes and send tingles up my arms when I re-read them. Words of affirmation are truly the gift that keeps on giving.

Today, and every day for that matter, I am thankful for every sincere word (even if it hurt to hear it at the time) that has been spoken or written to me. Each has made a difference, and each has helped shape the women I’ve become.

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 7: No Writing Wednesdays

It’s easy to focus on the negative in the world around us. In observation of a month many dedicate to counting their blessings, I’ve started a 30-day challenge in which I’ll focus on one aspect of my writing life for which I am thankful. I’d love to have you join by sharing about something that has blessed your own writing life in the comments section below. - Jen

Wednesdays are the hardest day of the week for me to get any real writing done. My day starts with me heading out the door at 7 to meet with a couple of the high school students from my youth group. After that I spend the next eight hours sitting at a desk. If I’m lucky, I run home for 30 minutes to grab a quick bite to eat and then it’s off to Youth Group, which I am currently leading. Come 9 o’clock I’m usually pretty brain dead. Once I walk through the door all I want to do is put on my jammies and zone out for a little while before conking out.

Wednesdays are also the most rewarding day of the week. I get to spend a good portion of my day interacting with an amazing group of young men and women. It’s such an incredible blessing having the opportunity to be a part of their lives — to be trusted with their confidences.  And it’s not just on Wednesdays I have that blessing either. They contact me all throughout the week with updates, questions, and prayer requests.

Occasionally a group of them will call me up on the weekend and want to hang out outside of youth activities. We’ve spent Saturdays at a park climbing over the jungle gyms. We’ve followed long dusty trails along rapid flowing creeks. We’ve spent afternoons combing through new book titles. We’ve also gotten more than a few stares from Toys ‘R Us employees. (OK. I suppose it does look odd for a 29 year old to get THAT excited about a new Lego set, but can you blame me?) And as I type this, I got a text inviting me to one of my student’s 16th birthday parties this weekend. I don’t know if that makes me cool, or just really odd.

All of this is a roundabout way of saying I am thankful for my youth. Their excitement is infectious. It inspires me. And so much of what I write in my fiction has stemmed from my interactions from them. Rarely a week goes by without them asking about my work in progress. They think it’s so cool that their youth leader is trying to get a book published that is targeted to their age group. (You’d think there wasn’t anything available for them, but it’s also a huge ego boost for me when I’m wrestling with a stubborn scene.)

Best of all are Wednesdays like yesterday where I had the privilege of witnessing the spiritual awakening and rebirth of a 12-year-old girl. The image of the peace and joy shining from her eyes will stick with me for a long time.

I have a quote by Thoreau above my desk that reads: How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.

No Writing Wednesdays are the perfect reminder of that.

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 6: Rejection

It’s easy to focus on the negative in the world around us. In observation of a month many dedicate to counting their blessings, I’ve started a 30-day challenge in which I’ll focus on one aspect of my writing life for which I am thankful. I’d love to have you join by sharing about something that has blessed your own writing life in the comments section below. - Jen

I’ll never forget the day I finished the first draft of my first book. I was elated. I was inspired. I was ready to take on the world. I combed through my Writer’s Market searching for the ideal agent to represent me. I spent hours crafting my first query letters. I checked and rechecked names and addresses to make sure I had everything right. Then I dropped an entire stack into the mail and waited for one of them to ask to see more pages.

Every single one of the letters came back with the dreaded canned rejection. I’d never felt like more of a failure in my life.

Fast-forward seven years. Today I can honestly say I am truly thankful for those rejections. I learned more from that experience than I ever did in a classroom. Because of those rejections I learned that just because a particular project isn’t accepted doesn’t mean I am incapable of writing anything of value. Those impersonal notes showed me how much I still had to learn about the craft of writing. I discovered the wisdom of sitting at the feet of those who had already gone through the early learning stages and could offer advice in how to avoid making the same mistakes.

Most importantly, I found that I have the drive and the desire to continue moving forward. That even without a book deal I can write, and do enjoy even the most infuriating aspects of it.

I am so thankful that story never made it into print. It would have been a disaster. Now I have gained experience where before I had none. I have a better idea of what it is I hope to accomplish with my writing. And I’m using these skills to dust off and rewrite the story I started so many years ago.

I have no guarantee it will be picked up this time either, but I know now that I can handle the rejections. I can also look for new lessons to be learned from those short, cryptic responses.

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 1: Professors

During the past few years I’ve seen several of my friends embark on a 30-day Thankfulness challenge for the month of November. The idea is to post on their Facebook page one item each day for which they are thankful. I was so intrigued by this that I decided that this year I would attempt to update my blog every day with something or someone that has been a blessing in my writing life. I’d love to have you join me by visiting each day and perhaps posting something for which you are thankful for in the comments section below.

Today I am thankful for four college professors I had who saw a talent in me they decided to foster by pushing me harder than I at times thought fair.

I am thankful for Rick Thompson who saw in a ridiculous and very short story an ability to engage the imagination and create a world he thought children would love to explore. It is because of him I first started dreaming of becoming a real writer.

I am thankful for Luis Perotti, a World Lit professor who realized I just needed someone to sit down and explain a few simple mechanics in order to really excel in writing, and who opened a whole new world for me as a result. I only had one class with him, but he always stopped me in the hall when he saw me to catch up with me and see how my education (and writing) were progressing.

I am thankful for Mada Morgan who introduced me to the joys of writer’s manuals and gifted me with my first Moleskine notebook upon graduation. She also taught me the fundamentals of rhetoric and editing, and worked alongside some fellow students and me as an advisor while we created a departmental e-zine and two annual writing competitions for English & Writing majors.

And I am thankful for Craig Wright who never allowed his students to use five words where one would suffice. Who taught me the difference between having a well-rounded vocabulary and flipping through a thesaurus. I am thankful for all the times he forced me to cut a story in half, then in half, and then in half again until I finally discovered that in order to write one must first have a story to tell.

I am thankful for these four individuals because they are the beginning of my story. It is through their efforts, their patience, and their guidance that my eyes were opened to see the first archway in my three-act play, and it is because of their encouragement that I had the faith to step through it.

Finding purpose as a Writer

My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses to the King; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer. (Ps 45:1)

One of my first writing mentors told me every writer should have a mission, a purpose for writing other than for self-enjoyment. He encouraged me to create a mission statement, and he also directed my attention to the above verse saying it would be a good motto for me. “What is my purpose in writing?” is something I ask myself every time I sit down. I might have various ideas, but the underlying principle is always the same: to build up and encourage others.

I was three when I first dedicated my life to Christ, but it wasn’t until the end of high school that I really had any idea what that might mean. All I really knew was that from the time I was small I wanted God to use me to bless the lives of others. At first I thought that might be through medicine and missions and I threw myself into that field whole-heartedly. Over time I came to realize I was really more interested in caring for the emotional and spiritual well being of others. I could splint and bandage and try to make people more comfortable all day, but my greatest joy came through building relationships and encouraging others.

When I finally decided to pursue writing as a profession I realized that being a writer was so much more than being someone who scribbles words on a page. It is an identity. And I wanted nothing more than for that identity to be centered in Christ. As the years have progressed I’ve noticed something about my writing: everything I do has God’s fingerprints on it. My words echo his love, reflect his creativity, and in some way retell the story he spoke into existence on the day of creation. What nobler theme could the heart be stirred by?

Not everything I write will be for the “Christian” market. In fact, that’s a term I’m not overly fond of personally because it sounds so isolationist. If we have an important story to tell, shouldn’t it be for everyone to hear? That is my mission, to write in such a way that it blesses the lives of others and somehow points them back to my King, no matter where they are in life. And better yet, I never have to get in their face to do so.

What is your purpose? What is your theme? If you haven’t found it yet I’d like to encourage you to take a break from your writing and do a little soul searching. Once you’ve found it you may discover that it adds an entirely new perspective and joy to who you are as a writer.