Blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City

The “Pointer Outer” And Me (#1285)

If any of you are still hanging with me, you might have wondered what the heck I’m doing with my life. In all fairness, I should have warned you this was coming.

The thing is, I didn’t exactly know what “this” was.

As many of you realize, if you read the blogs of authors and aspiring authors—-and certainly if you are one yourself!—-the road to getting a book published is long and fraught with a bunch of stuff. You read that right: stuff.

My agent and I decided to send my book out to an indy editor before shopping it around to publishers. You may not know this, but an editor doesn’t exactly fix your book herself. She’s not a BOOK FIXER, darn it. She’s a BOOK POINTER OUTER. And she is VERY good at pointing out!

What the indy editor did for me is not unlike what I might expect if the book is purchased and assigned to a publisher’s editor. So I believe I am correct to imagine that in the very best case scenario, I will be repeating this process with another editor down the road.

I’ll just go ahead and say it: I LOVE my Book Pointer Outer. I have met her in person at the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference that I attend every September. But when she finished her edits, she sent me back a TWENTY-TWO page, single-spaced letter to explain the notes that would be scattered throughout the manuscript when I finally had the guts to turn on edit mode and look at them.

Twenty-two pages!!! Now, all is not lost. At LEAST 1/3 of a page brimmed with compliments! No one said this industry was for sissies.

How many comments did she leave in the actual 350 page manuscript, you might ask? A few. LIke approximately 1500. Of those, SEVERAL (and by several I mean, literally, three) pointed to something I’d written and said “LOL” or in one particularly gratifying case, “LOLOLOLOL.”

The other 1497 pointed to, let’s just say, problems. Not terrible problems, for the most part. But stuff that must be addressed. By me.

For, you see, I am the Author! She is the Pointer Outer. Darn. Some days, I think I would make a dandy Pointer Outer. Ha.

I am buried in edits, as writers say. I have a self-imposed deadline of September 1. I really want my agent to be able to shop my book at ACFW on Sept 18. I really, really do.

If you would like to pray for me, I would humbly accept the gift of your prayers. If you would like to leave me a comment to let me know you’re still here even though I’ve been a very, very bad blogger, I would truly love to hear from you.

I’ll be back! I miss all of you! Thanks for hanging with me.

Posted by Katy on 07/28/08
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I Lost My Poor Meatball (#1284)

So I hosted this brilliant baby shower for my niece Erin a couple of weekends ago.

It featured a brunch, and one of the things we served was meatballs. You know the ones: made with bulk pork sausage, shredded cheddar cheese, and Bisquick. Perfect with the yummy egg casserole Bridget made and the strawberry torte Mary made.

Anyway, there were lots of leftovers, and plenty of meatballs ended up in the freezer. Yesterday morning, I pulled out a zipper bag of them.

Late in the afternoon, suffering from a colossal headache and not sure my vision was serving me well, I stared at a glob on the carpet across the room and then said to Doug, “What IS that?”

“Oh, that,” he said. “It’s a meatball.”

“What is it DOING there?” I asked.

“It rolled off my plate.”

Evidently, the man’s plate underwent such an unexpected spasm that SEVERAL meatballs rolled off in one fell swoop. As attentive to detail as he usually is, he missed this one.

Excuses notwithstanding, he got that song in my head and I haven’t stopped humming it ever since.

“On top of Old Smoky…”

Now tell me: Who said marriage was easy?

Posted by Katy on 07/14/08
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Happiness (#1283)

I am in a fortunate position these days. Because I’ve interviewed lots of authors on fallible, I’m now being sent TONS of free books by any number of publishers.

Sometimes, the publisher will send the books without asking and without the expectation that I’ll blog about the story or even post a review on Amazon. Other times, the author’s publicist will contact me, to ask me if I’d be interested in helping get the word out about a certain title.

Nancy Moser’s publicist obviously doesn’t know that we are VERY EXTREMELY CLOSE friends. But that doesn’t matter. When she asked if I’d like an advance copy of a book slated to come out in the fall, John 3:16, I jumped at the chance.

Now, right in the middle of this post, I’m going to tell you a little story. When Doug and I were in Switzerland last summer for Kevin’s graduation, we took a cable car straight up a mountain in Interlaken.

You may or may not know this about me, but I am subject to small bouts of anxiety. Like when I’m near a body of water larger than a jetted tub, or going through the Flint Hills of Kansas and have gotten too far from the safety of that nice Hardee’s travel center, or anywhere (um, Ireland, can you hear me now?) where there’s not a public bathroom.

I also have panic attacks with some regularity in cars on plain old highways, but you really don’t want to know about all that, do you? Or about when I have meltdowns in my kitchen, when I’m exploding eggs? I didn’t think so.

Anyway, cable cars which frequent steep mountains, as you might have guessed, are NOT my favorite thing. But Doug had dreamed of doing this precise thing the moment we found ourselves in Interlaken, and you know, that fellow can be so darned persistent.

Besides, if he croaked and I—-because I had the wisdom and foresight to remain on terra firma—-lived, I would not be overjoyed. I’d be furious with him posthumously, which isn’t too fair, and would likely contribute overly much to my anxiety quotient. Weighing out the pros and cons, I decided I’d rather kick with him than watch the disaster play out from the ground without him.

I’m just sayin’.

So we got in our car, which was hooked onto, by the sketchiest definition of the word hooked, a number of additional cars. All filled with cheerful riders, thrilled no doubt—-folks who thrive on the rickety, clacking sound of a machine on the very brink of careening into the abyss below.

Doug and I were joined by an Indian family of parents, a small girl, and a boy of about ten years of age. The parents spoke no English, but pleasantly smiled as if they were blissfully confident about their eternal destination. The girl was darling and shy, and only marginally afraid. But the boy—-who spoke English better than ever I have—-was friendly and gregarious and having the absolute time of his life.

For the sake of the little girl, I determined not to freak out, but dear Lord, was I ever losing it on the inside. I clutched Doug and clung to every bar and rail available—-and there weren’t many. My weak mental constitution was not lost on the lad, who could not stop laughing at my dilemma. After we’d been creaking up the mountain for too many minutes and I had dedicated my life and death completely to Jesus yet again, I finally turned to the boy and said, “I’m fine, really. I’m even kind of happy.”

I’ll never forget what he said next, because it was one of the most wonderfully profound things I’ve ever heard.

“I’m all the way happy.”

That settled things for me. I realized right then that there are moments in life when we just need to give it up and be all the way happy. Do you know exactly how far happy that is? I’ve decided to stop trying to quantify it. Just be all the way happy——what can it hurt?

Which brings me to Nancy’s book. I opened it a few minutes ago, and lo and behold, she’d written the dedication to ME. I don’t remember telling her about the Indian boy, but I must have. For in her dedication, she wished for me to be “all-the-way happy.”

And you know what? Right now, thanks to my dear friend Nancy Moser, I really, really am.

Posted by Katy on 07/08/08
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Freedom (#1282)

Doug and I are in the St. Louis area, looking forward to the wedding of a dear friend’s daughter tomorrow. In the meantime, though, we decided to avoid the traffic and stay in the outlying historic town of St. Charles, in a beautiful inn right on Main Street.

I can’t tell you how much I love this place. From our hotel, we can walk two blocks to all the beautiful shops—-wine shops, an Amish store, art galleries, etc. I don’t know why I named the wine shop first, except to say that it took a wee little bit of wine tasting to recover from the Celtic shop.

Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never been in a store that mixed Irish, Scottish, English and Welsh in one space. Hey, I’m equal parts Scottish and Irish. My dad (who’s responsible for this mess) never failed to point out that my particular heritage meant “you’ll always beat yourself up coming and going.” So true!

Anyway, in the so-called Celtic shop, little claddagh rings and tri-colored Irish flags were shelved next to tiny British soldiers and it just kind of made me shiver a little, that’s all. I mean, it’s not like in real life these countries exactly have a history of getting along. Scotland and Ireland have spent much of their existence fighting for independence from England.

(Wales has…given us Tom Jones. I am very extremely thankful for Wales.)

Today I, a British citizen, can’t help but think about how the English really had to screw things up big-time in order for the colonists to take the huge step they did in July, 1776. I, an American citizen, am of course amazed and grateful for the independence this country enjoys. But I think I can understand a bit of how so many colonists, themselves English citizens, hesitated long and hard before turning on their mother country.

To think that an enormous British blunder resulted in this great experiment called the United States of America is a source of joy on a day like Independence Day.

Whether that freedom should extend to the right to confuse the heck out of me in a Celtic shop, I honestly can’t say.

But, hey. This is the land of opportunity. The wine tasting’s just across the narrow brick road.

Posted by Katy on 07/04/08
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Hey, Christa, Come On Down! (#1281)

Thanks to all who left comments for a chance to win two great novels by Claudia Mair Burney! And congrats to Christa on your good fortune. Pop your postal address to me in an email, and I’ll send your books right out.

Posted by Katy on 07/03/08
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This Is Not Your Mother’s Christian Fiction! (#1278)

I’ve got a really fun treat for you today, O ye fallible ones!

If you’ve been hearing about a wonderful new author named Claudia Mair Burney, and you’ve wanted to learn a little more about her, this is your chance. Plus, we’ll be giving away not just a single novel, but a two-book set—-the Amanda Bell Brown Mysteries.

Now maybe you’ve read only a few mysteries, or maybe it’s your favorite genre. Whatever. I guarantee you Claudia Mair’s stories are more than mere whodunits. There’s enough humor, romance, and sass to keep nearly any genre reader stuck to the page. Plus, these books are smart. Intelligent, too, but really…smart.

Katy: Claudia Mair, let me see if I can sum up Amanda Bell Brown’s predicament. She’s a forensic psychologist and amateur sleuth in your companion novels Murder, Mayhem & A Fine Man and Death, Deceit & Some Smooth Jazz. And she has issues. She’s nearly thirty-five, she wants a man (but not just any man) and she’s craving a baby. Why does she have such a hard time making progress with her goals when she’s obviously brilliant, cute, and wears adorable shoes?

Claudia Mair: Amanda is really a very broken person and I’m going to say the s-word: She’s a sinner. The fact is, no matter how bright and even accomplished we are, some of us take a long time to cook in God’s oven before we’re done. We might think we’re done, but we aren’t. She tries very hard, but she’s really her own worst enemy, and that’s like so many of us.

Katy: I know we’re not in the same room, but are you looking at me?

Claudia Mair: You know what I mean. It’s that whole thing that St. Paul spoke so eloquently about in Romans 7:15. “What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate.” Amanda doesn’t like to make such bad choices, but she’s a mess. If she were a real person, I’d ask you to pray for her. Hey, pray for me! I’m a mess, too.

Katy: Okay. I confess. Me, too! Now, besides Amanda, we’ve got Detective Jazz Brown—no relation to Amanda, though she sure wishes there were. He feels that he’s not free to see another woman, even though he and his wife are divorced. He usually exudes self-control and Amanda usually respects his decision—although she has a hard time understanding it. Does Jazz really believe as strongly about divorce and remarriage as he seems to, or is he scared of women like Amanda?

Claudia Mair: Amanda would see this from the point of veiw of a person who goes to a relaxed Evangelical Emergent church. It has a very different flavor from what Jazz is tasting and seeing over in the land of the Magisterium. Jazz is conflicted about dating because he’s Catholic, and the matter of divorce and remarriage would have consequences that would affect his ability to participate in the sacramental life of the Church. And there’s the whole annulment thing if he wants to remarry.It’s a complicated process.

Katy: So his reluctance to date is all about his religious beliefs?

Claudia Mair: Not completely. He also doesn’t want to be hurt and embarrassed again. But he’s crazy about Bell (he calls her by her middle name) despite his reservations.

Katy: About this “crazy about Bell” thing. Let’s just say there’s no pretense in your books that chastity comes easily.

Claudia Mair: None!

Katy: Some of us like to pretend (especially when we think about our young adult children) that sexuality is not activated until the wedding night—that there’s a Sizzle Switch that isn’t flipped until then.

Claudia Mair: You must be a talented pretender!

Katy: Yes, well. Why did you decide to tackle the issue of the struggle, and how did you manage to do it in a way that makes us laugh while spewing coffee on the upholstered chairs in Starbucks?

Claudia Mair: Ha! My Sizzle Switch got flipped waaaay before its time. Lord, have mercy! The fact is we live in a culture that’s highly sexualized and we’re affected by it. Some of us stumble. We’re carnal and embodied and it’s difficult to say no to sex when the culture says it’s okay to make love if you’re responsible.

Katy: As long as we’re “safe” and everyone consents, it’s okay, right?

Claudia Mair: It’s gotten even worse. Nowadays, the culture gives us permission to have sex and not be responsible. It’s awful! Even what’s on television! There’s stuff on the air that wouldn’t fly when I was coming up. But the Bible is totally counter-culture! We really are called to chastity, whether we are married, single, or even gay, and I do believe that there are people who are just bent toward same-sex attraction, for whatever reason. They’re called to chastity, too, and that’s gotta be hard. I find it so distressing that we don’t tell the truth about this in our fiction.

Katy: About sexual temptation, in general?

Claudia Mair: Yeah. We have to have characters that are so good, but what of the Scripture that says nobody is righteous, not one of us? We find our propensity to sin after conversion distressing, but I believe conversion is ongoing. I hope so, because every day, every moment, I’m in that process. It wasn’t an event, getting saved. I’m still being saved.

Katy: The Bible mentions working out our salvation.

Claudia Mair: It’s an all-the-time thing. For us to ignore the vital issues, the fact that too many of us are engaged in sexual sin, and it’s putting a stranglehold on the Life that is in us, well that’s just a sin and a shame, as my great-grandmother would say.

Katy: Your stories are definitely not ignoring this issue! And you’re making us laugh in the process.

Claudia Mair: Sometimes our struggle is genuinely funny. It’s true. If you look closely, the things we do to stay faithful can be hilarious. I’ve read that when St. Francis of Assisi was sexually tempted he rolled around naked in the snow! Now if that don’t cool a brotha off, I don’t know what will.

Katy: I’m dyin’ here.

Claudia Mair: My sister had a “God Squad” to keep her accountable. It was hilarious, and wonderful. You know, I never expected to write “funny”. I used to see all these books by Christian women who were funny and I wanted to be deep and profound, but over and over again, I don’t care what book it is, people say my novels are funny.

Katy: Trust me, they’re deep and profound, too. But Very. Extremely Funny.

Claudia Mair: I read that in every saint there’s a bit of a clown. I’m a lot of clown and a teensy bit of saint, but I’m working to shift the balance there. Give me a few decades.

Katy: Praise the Lord, you’re still young! About your writing process: Is it similar from book to book, or do you reinvent yourself as a novelist with every new title? Are you one of those disciplined authors who’s up at 5, exercises, has devotions and is working by 6? Or do you do something…else? Does what’s worked for you (as far as getting writing done) in the past necessarily work for you now? Do you have one of those desks that’s really, really obsessively neat and an ergonomic chair?

Claudia Mair: I wouldn’t know what discipline as a writer was if it appeared before me like a fiery angelic visitation saying, “I am discipline as a writer!” I had so many books and deadlines to work on last year that I worked between being sick, crazy, or trying to raise a family. It was not good as far as writing processes go, or living an effective family life. I did what I had to do. I finished the books, but goodness gracious, the first drafts I turned in must have driven Lissa and Lisa (my editors) to strong wine.

Katy: Actually, that sounds like a type of writing discipline to me. You showed up. You got the work done.

Claudia Mair: I was more writer than wife and mother last year, and that sucks. Don’t do that, y’all. There really is something to the phrase “too much of a good thing.” Publishing will demand more of you than you know. Multiple book contracts had its own little cross and complications that came with it. I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong, but five books coming out in one year meant I worked like a machine.

Katy: Writing circles are forever debating whether ‘tis better to be (if we can even help such things) a plotter or a seat-of-the-pantser. Which one are you? Do you get any help along the way with developing your story? Do you have a brainstorming group or a critique group? (Can I join? Just kidding.)
Claudia Mair: Seat of the pants, though in the mysteries I always know who did it from the start. And generally, though not always, I’ve turned in a synopsis so I know where I’m going, but I have incredible surprises when I write.

Katy: I gotta think the surprises would be the best part for an author.

Claudia Mair: With Wounded: A Love Story, the ending totally floored me. I was like, “Whaaaaaat!?!?” And with Zora and Nicky: A Novel in Black and White, I got so exhausted that I put a placeholder ending on it just so I could turn it in. I knew I wouldn’t use that ending, but it was deadline time. I had to let it go, and I didn’t have the real ending yet. I put it in in the second draft, and it worked out. But for awhile there I had no idea where I was going with that.

Katy: They let you turn in stuff with “placeholders”? Placeholders happen to be my forte! So, you’re saying your characters can tend to get away from you?

Claudia Mair: Sometimes, I have to let my characters do something because I want to see how it feels, but they let me know if it doesn’t work (my editors are pretty good at that, too!). But really, your story itself will reveal its weaknesses if you have eyes to see and ears to hear. So, yeah, I will write the crazy first, and then see what the real story is.

Katy: Do you write a lot of stuff you don’t end up using?

Claudia Mair: I’ve thrown out hundreds of pages, but I wrote them because I needed to explore something. Explorers may have some idea of what they’ll find, but they don’t know for sure until they “go there.”

Katy: Okay, now you’re scaring me a little! Who reads for you before you submit?
Claudia Mair: Sometimes a friend or Ken and my daughter Abbie will help me brainstorm, but it’s not a formal thing. I have a few readers that tell me if I’ve written a story they can connect with. They read all my rough drafts, and lemme tell ya, they are rough, baby! But they don’t do involved critiques. Their job is to tell me if I wrote a story that held them till the end. Sometimes they tell me a little more, but mostly it’s about helping me discern if I wrote with heart.

Katy: Heart. Oh, yeah. That’s the most crucial thing of all.

Claudia Mair: I do a lot by instinct and flying blind. Maybe I should be in a group. We can start one, Katy. The Saint Francis De Sales Society. He’s the patron saint of writers.

Katy: My eyes saw that last phrase wrong. I thought you said, “He’s the patron saint of whiners.” Which would also work for me.

Claudia Mair: Get your saints straight, Katy.

Katy: I’ll work on that. You have a whole bunch of books coming out around the same time, which is fantastic for your eager readers. Can you tell us what you’re working on now?
Claudia Mair: Right now I’m working on my second Young Adult novel, The Exorsistah #2: The Return of X, and then I’m going right into the third one as soon as I’m done.

Katy: Are these about what I think they’re about?

Claudia Mair: I’m telling you, Katy, writing about demons is a trip. They don’t like it.

Katy: The demons?

Claudia Mair: They try to kick my butt in a big way. I have to become an exorsistah myself just to finish writing the books. I’m not kidding. Never do I encounter such difficulty writing a novel, such resistance, as I do with those.

Katy: You’re talkin’ spiritual warfare?

Claudia Mair: I have to keep a copy of the Bible, some kick-devil-butt exorcism prayers, and the book The War of Art by the bedside. Have you read that one, Katy? Talk about getting you going when you’re stuck! In fact, I should have picked it up about three months ago.

Katy: I will check out the book! Lord knows I need all the help I can get getting unstuck. It’s been a joy and a privilege having you here on fallible, my friend. I know that one of my fortunate commenters is going to blessed winning a two-book set of the Amanda Bell Brown Mysteries. Thank you!
Claudia Mair: Thanks for having me, sis. You’re incredible. I still have the prayer beads you made me! Never met a rosary I didn’t like.

Posted by Katy on 06/27/08
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Priceless (#1277)

So we spent lots of hours in the ER the other day before Mom finally got admitted. Completely unlike her last trip to the ER, during which she expressed her utter…um…dislike for me, Doug, the nurses and the doc, Mom was in a patient (ha!) and even pleasant mood. Who does HER meds, huh?

Anyway, my little sister Bridget was standing near the gurney at one point, so that Mom saw her profile. Out of the blue, Mom said, “You look so pretty, just standing there.”

Bridget is beautiful, but this was so unlike my mother to say that I think Bridgie and I both nearly cried.

About an hour later, lacking other amusement, I assumed the pose Bridget had and said to Mom, “I need you to say one to me.”

“One what?”

“You know, something like you said to Bridget. Something like, ‘You look so pretty, just standing there.’”

Mom hesitated, so I figured she must not think I’m much of a looker. And that’s OK. Really, it is. I’ve got 13 long years on Bridget, after all.

Then she said, “I think you look a lot like Kathy Griffin.” I gasped a little, then she went on. “And I think you are talented and could have a career on the stage.”

“Whoa, Mommy!” I said. “An affirmation!”

“A what?”

“It doesn’t matter what you call it. That was really, really sweet.”

And you know what? Today, as we visited her in the hospital, I purposely affirmed her. I don’t remember now what I said, but it was about something that she’s doing well at this stage of her life. She said that was very nice to hear. Then Bridget and I recalled different times and occasions when Mom has looked “beautiful,” and I know it pleased her for us to say so.

There are a lot of us adult (WAY adult!) kids out here who are still wishing to hear an encouraging word from a parent, but it works both ways. Every human soul needs to be acknowledged, praised, and loved. Even our parents, no matter their age.

I’ll gladly put my life on Broadway aside a bit longer, if it means I’ve got a chance to touch the heart of my one-and-only mother.

Posted by Katy on 06/21/08
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A Veritable Dearth Of Posts (#1276)

My mother is in the hospital—-again. This is Day Three. I guess I’ve mentioned here that she now has C.diff, a horrible bacterial infection of the intestine that usually begins with too many courses of antibiotics and ends with Dear Lord You Really Don’t Want To Know. She’s suffered with this for what? Three months? Honestly, a daughter loses count after awhile.

Now she’s got complications of THAT condition. Yesterday she had a sigmoidoscopy and got through it OK. Haven’t met with the GI doc to talk about results yet.

Today is the first day I paused long enough to discover that the hospital wifi, it is free.

As usual, small mercies everywhere.

Mom has also been in good spirits, which makes all of our lives so much easier. She’s had five UTIs so far in 2008, and that was icky enough. This is….ickier.

Small mercies, received with gratitude. Thank you, Jesus.

Posted by Katy on 06/21/08
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Ireland In June (#1272)

How I long for the auld sod this time of year!

Okay, I’m exaggerating. This time of year has nothing to do with it. Our first trip to Ireland and Scotland, in 2000, occurred in July/August. Our second trip, in 2006, was in April/May. But I can tell you this: No matter what month and what season, I yearn to go back. It has nothing to do with this time of year. It’s truly every time of year.

Today, though, I’m happy to refer all you Celtic hearts to BJ Hoff’s site. This isn’t the first time BJ, herself a novelist who’s written many historicals about Ireland, has shared her favorite books and music, and let me just say that her recommendations are always excellent.

I’ve read the books on the potato famine that BJ refers to, and I learned a lot from them. (But I’ve learned just as much about that topic from her novels…) Besides the books she mentions, my library contains histories of County Monaghan (land of my recent ancestors), and such wild stories of Fenian rebels, hunger strikers, and other malcontents (purchased in a Sinn Fein bookstore in Belfast) that I hesitate to mention them by name for fear of stirring up the Troubles all over again.

BJ, I’m sure, is more balanced than ever I’ll be! She won’t lead you astray. If you love all things Celtic as much as I do, don’t fail to visit her site!

Posted by Katy on 06/17/08
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Diana, Come On Down! (#1267)

I’m gratified to say that a brand new commenter to fallible, Diana, has been randomly chosen to win a free copy of Deb Raney’s latest novel. Leaving November.

Have a great time reading it, Diana, and thank you for playing!

Oh, and email me with your postal address. Yes, that would be important….

Posted by Katy on 06/12/08
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I Hesitate To Say You’re Doubly Lucky, But Hey. You Are. (#1262)

Today, I’ve got another free book giveaway going on. One fortunate and fallible commenter will receive a copy of Deb Raney’s book Leaving November. However, the rules have changed, just this once.

This time, to gain a chance to win this lovely novel, you will be leaving a comment on any post at my NEW blog, LateBoomer.net. (You’ll see a link in the left sidebar, too, for future reference.) I’m hoping a bunch of you visit LateBoomer often, so this is my way of introducing the site to you. It will be filled with lots of into/inspiration/entertainment of interest to readers of a certain age, if you catch my drift. And if you’ve arrived at that age somewhat clueless about how to proceed from here, so much the better!

Now, about Deb’s book. Some of you will recall that I had the joy of interviewing Deb when Remember to Forget released. Leaving November is the second in the Clayburn series, but I think of it as a stand-alone book. Here’s the back-cover copy:

“Eight years ago, Vienne Kenney moved away from Clayburn and all its gossip to pursue a law degree in California. But now she has failed the bar exam again. Is she destined to be stuck forever, a failure—-just like her father—-in this two-horse Kansas town? Nine months ago, Jackson Linder left Clayburn with no explanation to anybody. Now he, too, is back. He isn’t sure he’s ready to face the rumors and well-meaning questions of the town’s busybodies. Yet he’s determined, once more, to make his art gallery a success—-in spite of the secret that haunts him every day…”

Vienne’s father is dead and here’s the thing: She wasn’t sorry to see him go. In fact, she could never understand why her long-suffering mother put up with him at all. But she’s promised herself one thing: She will never fall for a man like her father—-ever. Too bad she’s already fallen for the charming Jackson before she finds out how much like her father he is.

If you’d like to read my interview with Deb, here it is. Let me tell you, if you like issues-rich novels authentically set in small towns, no one does it better!

Now, hop on over to LateBoomer and leave me a comment! I’ll randomly choose a commenter to win a copy of Leaving November on Wednesday.

Posted by Katy on 06/09/08
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Write The Next Chapter! (#1261)

My new blogging and writing buddy Kathryn Harris, who’s an editor at The Norfolk Daily News in Norfolk, Nebraska, is sponsoring a fun contest through the newspaper.

I know there are dozens of aspiring novelists who read fallible, and I can’t pass up the chance to recommend this contest. At the paper’s website, Kathryn has written the first short chapter of a compelling novel, and she’d love to read the next paragraph, scene, or chapter from YOU.

You do know that many famous novelists got their start serializing their stories in newspapers, don’t you? One of my favorite authors ever, the Scottish Victorian preacher and novelist George MacDonald, supported his large family largely by releasing his novels in dribs and drabs to Scotland’s newspapers.

So here’s your chance to get your work read! In the case that more than one person submits a piece for the same spot, the piece published will be at the sole discretion of the newspaper editors.

Read all about it here, and then get those scenes and chapters (or even paragraphs!) written!

And, above all, have fun with it!

Posted by Katy on 06/06/08
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About The Post Directly Beneath This Post! (#1255)

For some reason, I cannot edit my previous post to correct some obvious errors. There are three that I know of. In the first sentence, the word “don’t” should actually be “won’t.”

Then I refer to an “alliance garage” in which we keep our toaster. The term is “appliance garage.”

Finally, I write a whole paragraph about the wonderful word “doterage,” and evidently THERE IS NO SUCH WORD. The correct word is dotage, which I will from now on use, clear into my fast-approaching dotage.

I will need to start my own collection of non-words soon, I fear. The first two will be “endulge” and “doterage.” Pretty cool words, eh?

I don’t know. Maybe I should stick to exploding eggs.

Posted by Katy on 06/04/08
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Deaf. And Evidently Dumb, Too (#1253)

If I get much more fallible, I don’t know what to expect next.

Here’s the deal: I am FOREVER giving my husband little pointers on how not to burn the house down (Don’t walk away from the stove when you’re cooking! Pull the toaster out from the “alliance garage” thingie when you’re toasting! Never lay a potholder or a dishtowel on the stovetop!)

He tends to be scatterbrained and I am trying to help him get into the kind of good habits that might save our lives in our doterage.

By the way, I just googled doterage to make sure I spelled it correctly. Guess what? Fallible.com appears NUMBER FOUR in among all the tens of thousands of websites using the word! Wait a minute—-there are only 71 occurrences of the word doterage on the entire WORLD WIDE WEB? That can’t be right! DOTERAGE is an excellent word, and should be used by SOMEONE besides ME!

I hope that if someone else uses the word doterage, she does it in a way that can save my sorry behind, for you see, I’ve got nothing on poor Doug.

I did the DUMBEST thing imaginable for a mostly deaf person. I put a dozen eggs in a pan of water, set the pan on the stove to boil, and walked away. OF COURSE I set the stove’s timer, because that’s what intelligent people do, right? Even though I NEVER forget that I’ve put something on the stove, I would never risk my home, my body, or for that matter my EGGS by not setting the timer.

But then I went into the other room, sat down to finish crocheting a baby blanket I’m making for my niece, and TURNED ON THE TV—-something I never do in the middle of the day.

That must have been some compelling television, not that I could have heard the timer even in the absence of the TV. But I’ll tell you what I did hear! Gunfire!!!

I am alone in the house, and I thought for sure someone had broken in and started shooting even before they located me down the hall. It only took several seconds for this illogical idea to cause me to move on down the line thought-wise. And suddenly I heard myself exclaim “EGGS!”

Let me just say that if you’ve never heard and watched a pan full of eggs EXPLODE, you’ve had an uneventful life.

Now, HOW will I explain all this *ahem* excitement to Doug? In spite of the lessons on fire safety I’ve tried my darndest to share with him, I’ve pulled the craziest trick yet.

Knowing him, he’ll take it in stride. He’ll probably get a good chuckle out of it, and he sure won’t make me feel any worse about the situation than I already do.

What can I say? The guy dotes on me.

Posted by Katy on 06/04/08
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O.P.T. (#1248)

I just came from visiting Mom, and I gotta say this is the most cognizant she’s been in a very long time. Cognizant and something approaching cheerful. Cognizant and cheerful and nice. I’m still reeling from the experience.

I expected her to be sound asleep at 9 am, as she usually is. Instead, she was sitting on her couch watching TV, dressed and in her right mind. If you count a t-shirt and a Depends as dressed, and if you count “in her right mind” as wanting to talk about Joel Osteen and tough toenails. Fortunately for me, I have ever-adjusting standards.

“You know that new man I’ve been telling you about? Henry? He goes to a different church every Sunday.”

“Well, he just moved here from another city,” I said. “Maybe he’s church shopping.”

Why did I use a piece of Christianese like that? Mom didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. She looked confused and that’s not the look I was going for.

“All I know is he comes back from church and tells us the sermon was terrible or the sermon was really great. Sometimes, he even goes to Bible study in the middle of the week.”

“An interesting man, I’d say,” I said.

“So the other day I ask him if he’s ever heard of Joel Osteen. You know Joel, don’t you?”

“I do,” I answered.

“I love him. No fire and brimstone. He’s very calm. Just tells it like it is and then he’s done.”

“Had Henry heard of him?”

“Henry loves Joel! I told him I’d just caught Joel on that morning, when I thought he was only on at night. Henry did not know he was on in the morning, either. He said we’d look at his TV Guide together and try to figure out all the times we can see Joel.”

“Well, that’s a nice thing you two are talking about. Very cool…”

Mom and her nearly-100-year-old friend Annie have gotten called on the carpet recently for talking trash about the other residents—-IN FRONT OF THEM. In fact, Henry hasn’t lived there more than a month, and the two ladies dished the dirt on him thoroughly. He weighs maybe 500 pounds, and when he said in the lunchroom how he’d had his first shower and how nice it was to get some help, my mother spoke up LOUDLY and said, “Where’d they bathe him? At the CAR WASH?”

But now she and Henry have something fascinating in common: they are both Joel Osteen enthusiasts. I am not complaining.

Mom went on. “Then Henry asked me if I knew that Joel had written a couple of books, and I said yes, I knew.”

Mom can’t read anymore. Just can’t. No newspapers, no magazines, no books. She can’t write, either. Or do simple math, or fill out a check.

“Do you want me to pick you up one of Joel’s books?” I asked, ever the optimist.

“No! I’m sure not going to read Joel if I haven’t even read Tony Orlando!”

After I stopped having a near-death experience laughing, I said, “So what else has been going on?”

“Toe Day.”

“No, not that, Mom. Please, can we talk about something else? I can’t handle…”

“You need to hear this, Katy. It was a disaster.”

I started to gag but controlled myself. “OK, Mom. Tell me.”

“It was scheduled from one to three, right? So thirteen of us gathered in the big room with the fireplace at one. Of course, some of us know to get there early, so we won’t miss out.”

“I thought you signed up for time slots with the podiatrist. Don’t they knock on your apartment door when it’s your turn?”

“No, silly. You’ve got to be there at one, on the dot. And we were—-all thirteen of us. But guess what? Dr. Gout never showed.”

“But he only comes every two months…”

“He got busy at another facility. Didn’t even call. So the whole lot of us were circled up with our shoes off for two hours, waiting. There went my whole day, not that we didn’t have a good time. It’s the best thing on the activities calendar, bar none.”

“Weren’t they showing Pretty Woman last night? That sounds like a lot more fun. You love Richard Dreyfus.”

“Gere, Katy. I love Richard Gere. But even Gere doesn’t beat Toe Day. Just LOOK at my toenails! In fact, could you grab those clippers on the nightstand and try to…”

I ran from the apartment, silently screaming. I have made a promise to myself that I will never consider Toe Day a social event and, even though I am a very useful and helpful person otherwise, I will stick to my guns about not cutting O.P.T.—-Other People’s Toenails.

I looked back over my shoulder to shout good-bye and “I love you!” to Mom as I flew down the hall.

The last thing I heard her say was, “It’s gonna take a whole lot of Joel to calm her down.”

Posted by Katy on 06/02/08
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		more fallible attitude »

Personal blog of christian writer & fallible mom Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri Katy is represented by Greg Johnson at WordServe Literary Read more Katy at LateBoomer.net Follow Katy on Twitter Follow Katy on Facebook 123 Recent Posts Try Becoming Brenda Starr Off Beat Scattered That’s It So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What? The Spoon Sciatica Sweetheart A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices. As with everything in life, balance is key. Slow down, you move too fast… Yeah, I know. I have issues. Search Advanced Search Syndicate Login E me at katy @ ngenius.com	The “Pointer Outer” And Me (#1285) If any of you are still hanging with me, you might have wondered what the heck I’m doing with my life. In all fairness, I should have warned you this was coming. The thing is, I didn’t exactly know what “this” was. As many of you realize, if you read the blogs of authors and aspiring authors—-and certainly if you are one yourself!—-the road to getting a book published is long and fraught with a bunch of stuff. You read that right: stuff. My agent and I decided to send my book out to an indy editor before shopping it around to publishers. You may not know this, but an editor doesn’t exactly fix your book herself. She’s not a BOOK FIXER, darn it. She’s a BOOK POINTER OUTER. And she is VERY good at pointing out! What the indy editor did for me is not unlike what I might expect if the book is purchased and assigned to a publisher’s editor. So I believe I am correct to imagine that in the very best case scenario, I will be repeating this process with another editor down the road. I’ll just go ahead and say it: I LOVE my Book Pointer Outer. I have met her in person at the American Christian Fiction Writers Conference that I attend every September. But when she finished her edits, she sent me back a TWENTY-TWO page, single-spaced letter to explain the notes that would be scattered throughout the manuscript when I finally had the guts to turn on edit mode and look at them. Twenty-two pages!!! Now, all is not lost. At LEAST 1/3 of a page brimmed with compliments! No one said this industry was for sissies. How many comments did she leave in the actual 350 page manuscript, you might ask? A few. LIke approximately 1500. Of those, SEVERAL (and by several I mean, literally, three) pointed to something I’d written and said “LOL” or in one particularly gratifying case, “LOLOLOLOL.” The other 1497 pointed to, let’s just say, problems. Not terrible problems, for the most part. But stuff that must be addressed. By me. For, you see, I am the Author! She is the Pointer Outer. Darn. Some days, I think I would make a dandy Pointer Outer. Ha. I am buried in edits, as writers say. I have a self-imposed deadline of September 1. I really want my agent to be able to shop my book at ACFW on Sept 18. I really, really do. If you would like to pray for me, I would humbly accept the gift of your prayers. If you would like to leave me a comment to let me know you’re still here even though I’ve been a very, very bad blogger, I would truly love to hear from you. I’ll be back! I miss all of you! Thanks for hanging with me. Posted by Katy on 07/28/08 Permalink I Lost My Poor Meatball (#1284) So I hosted this brilliant baby shower for my niece Erin a couple of weekends ago. It featured a brunch, and one of the things we served was meatballs. You know the ones: made with bulk pork sausage, shredded cheddar cheese, and Bisquick. Perfect with the yummy egg casserole Bridget made and the strawberry torte Mary made. Anyway, there were lots of leftovers, and plenty of meatballs ended up in the freezer. Yesterday morning, I pulled out a zipper bag of them. Late in the afternoon, suffering from a colossal headache and not sure my vision was serving me well, I stared at a glob on the carpet across the room and then said to Doug, “What IS that?” “Oh, that,” he said. “It’s a meatball.” “What is it DOING there?” I asked. “It rolled off my plate.” Evidently, the man’s plate underwent such an unexpected spasm that SEVERAL meatballs rolled off in one fell swoop. As attentive to detail as he usually is, he missed this one. Excuses notwithstanding, he got that song in my head and I haven’t stopped humming it ever since. “On top of Old Smoky…” Now tell me: Who said marriage was easy? Posted by Katy on 07/14/08 Permalink Happiness (#1283) I am in a fortunate position these days. Because I’ve interviewed lots of authors on fallible, I’m now being sent TONS of free books by any number of publishers. Sometimes, the publisher will send the books without asking and without the expectation that I’ll blog about the story or even post a review on Amazon. Other times, the author’s publicist will contact me, to ask me if I’d be interested in helping get the word out about a certain title. Nancy Moser’s publicist obviously doesn’t know that we are VERY EXTREMELY CLOSE friends. But that doesn’t matter. When she asked if I’d like an advance copy of a book slated to come out in the fall, John 3:16, I jumped at the chance. Now, right in the middle of this post, I’m going to tell you a little story. When Doug and I were in Switzerland last summer for Kevin’s graduation, we took a cable car straight up a mountain in Interlaken. You may or may not know this about me, but I am subject to small bouts of anxiety. Like when I’m near a body of water larger than a jetted tub, or going through the Flint Hills of Kansas and have gotten too far from the safety of that nice Hardee’s travel center, or anywhere (um, Ireland, can you hear me now?) where there’s not a public bathroom. I also have panic attacks with some regularity in cars on plain old highways, but you really don’t want to know about all that, do you? Or about when I have meltdowns in my kitchen, when I’m exploding eggs? I didn’t think so. Anyway, cable cars which frequent steep mountains, as you might have guessed, are NOT my favorite thing. But Doug had dreamed of doing this precise thing the moment we found ourselves in Interlaken, and you know, that fellow can be so darned persistent. Besides, if he croaked and I—-because I had the wisdom and foresight to remain on terra firma—-lived, I would not be overjoyed. I’d be furious with him posthumously, which isn’t too fair, and would likely contribute overly much to my anxiety quotient. Weighing out the pros and cons, I decided I’d rather kick with him than watch the disaster play out from the ground without him. I’m just sayin’. So we got in our car, which was hooked onto, by the sketchiest definition of the word hooked, a number of additional cars. All filled with cheerful riders, thrilled no doubt—-folks who thrive on the rickety, clacking sound of a machine on the very brink of careening into the abyss below. Doug and I were joined by an Indian family of parents, a small girl, and a boy of about ten years of age. The parents spoke no English, but pleasantly smiled as if they were blissfully confident about their eternal destination. The girl was darling and shy, and only marginally afraid. But the boy—-who spoke English better than ever I have—-was friendly and gregarious and having the absolute time of his life. For the sake of the little girl, I determined not to freak out, but dear Lord, was I ever losing it on the inside. I clutched Doug and clung to every bar and rail available—-and there weren’t many. My weak mental constitution was not lost on the lad, who could not stop laughing at my dilemma. After we’d been creaking up the mountain for too many minutes and I had dedicated my life and death completely to Jesus yet again, I finally turned to the boy and said, “I’m fine, really. I’m even kind of happy.” I’ll never forget what he said next, because it was one of the most wonderfully profound things I’ve ever heard. “I’m all the way happy.” That settled things for me. I realized right then that there are moments in life when we just need to give it up and be all the way happy. Do you know exactly how far happy that is? I’ve decided to stop trying to quantify it. Just be all the way happy——what can it hurt? Which brings me to Nancy’s book. I opened it a few minutes ago, and lo and behold, she’d written the dedication to ME. I don’t remember telling her about the Indian boy, but I must have. For in her dedication, she wished for me to be “all-the-way happy.” And you know what? Right now, thanks to my dear friend Nancy Moser, I really, really am. Posted by Katy on 07/08/08 Permalink Freedom (#1282) Doug and I are in the St. Louis area, looking forward to the wedding of a dear friend’s daughter tomorrow. In the meantime, though, we decided to avoid the traffic and stay in the outlying historic town of St. Charles, in a beautiful inn right on Main Street. I can’t tell you how much I love this place. From our hotel, we can walk two blocks to all the beautiful shops—-wine shops, an Amish store, art galleries, etc. I don’t know why I named the wine shop first, except to say that it took a wee little bit of wine tasting to recover from the Celtic shop. Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never been in a store that mixed Irish, Scottish, English and Welsh in one space. Hey, I’m equal parts Scottish and Irish. My dad (who’s responsible for this mess) never failed to point out that my particular heritage meant “you’ll always beat yourself up coming and going.” So true! Anyway, in the so-called Celtic shop, little claddagh rings and tri-colored Irish flags were shelved next to tiny British soldiers and it just kind of made me shiver a little, that’s all. I mean, it’s not like in real life these countries exactly have a history of getting along. Scotland and Ireland have spent much of their existence fighting for independence from England. (Wales has…given us Tom Jones. I am very extremely thankful for Wales.) Today I, a British citizen, can’t help but think about how the English really had to screw things up big-time in order for the colonists to take the huge step they did in July, 1776. I, an American citizen, am of course amazed and grateful for the independence this country enjoys. But I think I can understand a bit of how so many colonists, themselves English citizens, hesitated long and hard before turning on their mother country. To think that an enormous British blunder resulted in this great experiment called the United States of America is a source of joy on a day like Independence Day. Whether that freedom should extend to the right to confuse the heck out of me in a Celtic shop, I honestly can’t say. But, hey. This is the land of opportunity. The wine tasting’s just across the narrow brick road. Posted by Katy on 07/04/08 Permalink Hey, Christa, Come On Down! (#1281) Thanks to all who left comments for a chance to win two great novels by Claudia Mair Burney! And congrats to Christa on your good fortune. Pop your postal address to me in an email, and I’ll send your books right out. Posted by Katy on 07/03/08 Permalink This Is Not Your Mother’s Christian Fiction! (#1278) I’ve got a really fun treat for you today, O ye fallible ones! If you’ve been hearing about a wonderful new author named Claudia Mair Burney, and you’ve wanted to learn a little more about her, this is your chance. Plus, we’ll be giving away not just a single novel, but a two-book set—-the Amanda Bell Brown Mysteries. Now maybe you’ve read only a few mysteries, or maybe it’s your favorite genre. Whatever. I guarantee you Claudia Mair’s stories are more than mere whodunits. There’s enough humor, romance, and sass to keep nearly any genre reader stuck to the page. Plus, these books are smart. Intelligent, too, but really…smart. Katy: Claudia Mair, let me see if I can sum up Amanda Bell Brown’s predicament. She’s a forensic psychologist and amateur sleuth in your companion novels Murder, Mayhem & A Fine Man and Death, Deceit & Some Smooth Jazz. And she has issues. She’s nearly thirty-five, she wants a man (but not just any man) and she’s craving a baby. Why does she have such a hard time making progress with her goals when she’s obviously brilliant, cute, and wears adorable shoes? Claudia Mair: Amanda is really a very broken person and I’m going to say the s-word: She’s a sinner. The fact is, no matter how bright and even accomplished we are, some of us take a long time to cook in God’s oven before we’re done. We might think we’re done, but we aren’t. She tries very hard, but she’s really her own worst enemy, and that’s like so many of us. Katy: I know we’re not in the same room, but are you looking at me? Claudia Mair: You know what I mean. It’s that whole thing that St. Paul spoke so eloquently about in Romans 7:15. “What I do, I do not understand. For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate.” Amanda doesn’t like to make such bad choices, but she’s a mess. If she were a real person, I’d ask you to pray for her. Hey, pray for me! I’m a mess, too. Katy: Okay. I confess. Me, too! Now, besides Amanda, we’ve got Detective Jazz Brown—no relation to Amanda, though she sure wishes there were. He feels that he’s not free to see another woman, even though he and his wife are divorced. He usually exudes self-control and Amanda usually respects his decision—although she has a hard time understanding it. Does Jazz really believe as strongly about divorce and remarriage as he seems to, or is he scared of women like Amanda? Claudia Mair: Amanda would see this from the point of veiw of a person who goes to a relaxed Evangelical Emergent church. It has a very different flavor from what Jazz is tasting and seeing over in the land of the Magisterium. Jazz is conflicted about dating because he’s Catholic, and the matter of divorce and remarriage would have consequences that would affect his ability to participate in the sacramental life of the Church. And there’s the whole annulment thing if he wants to remarry.It’s a complicated process. Katy: So his reluctance to date is all about his religious beliefs? Claudia Mair: Not completely. He also doesn’t want to be hurt and embarrassed again. But he’s crazy about Bell (he calls her by her middle name) despite his reservations. Katy: About this “crazy about Bell” thing. Let’s just say there’s no pretense in your books that chastity comes easily. Claudia Mair: None! Katy: Some of us like to pretend (especially when we think about our young adult children) that sexuality is not activated until the wedding night—that there’s a Sizzle Switch that isn’t flipped until then. Claudia Mair: You must be a talented pretender! Katy: Yes, well. Why did you decide to tackle the issue of the struggle, and how did you manage to do it in a way that makes us laugh while spewing coffee on the upholstered chairs in Starbucks? Claudia Mair: Ha! My Sizzle Switch got flipped waaaay before its time. Lord, have mercy! The fact is we live in a culture that’s highly sexualized and we’re affected by it. Some of us stumble. We’re carnal and embodied and it’s difficult to say no to sex when the culture says it’s okay to make love if you’re responsible. Katy: As long as we’re “safe” and everyone consents, it’s okay, right? Claudia Mair: It’s gotten even worse. Nowadays, the culture gives us permission to have sex and not be responsible. It’s awful! Even what’s on television! There’s stuff on the air that wouldn’t fly when I was coming up. But the Bible is totally counter-culture! We really are called to chastity, whether we are married, single, or even gay, and I do believe that there are people who are just bent toward same-sex attraction, for whatever reason. They’re called to chastity, too, and that’s gotta be hard. I find it so distressing that we don’t tell the truth about this in our fiction. Katy: About sexual temptation, in general? Claudia Mair: Yeah. We have to have characters that are so good, but what of the Scripture that says nobody is righteous, not one of us? We find our propensity to sin after conversion distressing, but I believe conversion is ongoing. I hope so, because every day, every moment, I’m in that process. It wasn’t an event, getting saved. I’m still being saved. Katy: The Bible mentions working out our salvation. Claudia Mair: It’s an all-the-time thing. For us to ignore the vital issues, the fact that too many of us are engaged in sexual sin, and it’s putting a stranglehold on the Life that is in us, well that’s just a sin and a shame, as my great-grandmother would say. Katy: Your stories are definitely not ignoring this issue! And you’re making us laugh in the process. Claudia Mair: Sometimes our struggle is genuinely funny. It’s true. If you look closely, the things we do to stay faithful can be hilarious. I’ve read that when St. Francis of Assisi was sexually tempted he rolled around naked in the snow! Now if that don’t cool a brotha off, I don’t know what will. Katy: I’m dyin’ here. Claudia Mair: My sister had a “God Squad” to keep her accountable. It was hilarious, and wonderful. You know, I never expected to write “funny”. I used to see all these books by Christian women who were funny and I wanted to be deep and profound, but over and over again, I don’t care what book it is, people say my novels are funny. Katy: Trust me, they’re deep and profound, too. But Very. Extremely Funny. Claudia Mair: I read that in every saint there’s a bit of a clown. I’m a lot of clown and a teensy bit of saint, but I’m working to shift the balance there. Give me a few decades. Katy: Praise the Lord, you’re still young! About your writing process: Is it similar from book to book, or do you reinvent yourself as a novelist with every new title? Are you one of those disciplined authors who’s up at 5, exercises, has devotions and is working by 6? Or do you do something…else? Does what’s worked for you (as far as getting writing done) in the past necessarily work for you now? Do you have one of those desks that’s really, really obsessively neat and an ergonomic chair? Claudia Mair: I wouldn’t know what discipline as a writer was if it appeared before me like a fiery angelic visitation saying, “I am discipline as a writer!” I had so many books and deadlines to work on last year that I worked between being sick, crazy, or trying to raise a family. It was not good as far as writing processes go, or living an effective family life. I did what I had to do. I finished the books, but goodness gracious, the first drafts I turned in must have driven Lissa and Lisa (my editors) to strong wine. Katy: Actually, that sounds like a type of writing discipline to me. You showed up. You got the work done. Claudia Mair: I was more writer than wife and mother last year, and that sucks. Don’t do that, y’all. There really is something to the phrase “too much of a good thing.” Publishing will demand more of you than you know. Multiple book contracts had its own little cross and complications that came with it. I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong, but five books coming out in one year meant I worked like a machine. Katy: Writing circles are forever debating whether ‘tis better to be (if we can even help such things) a plotter or a seat-of-the-pantser. Which one are you? Do you get any help along the way with developing your story? Do you have a brainstorming group or a critique group? (Can I join? Just kidding.) Claudia Mair: Seat of the pants, though in the mysteries I always know who did it from the start. And generally, though not always, I’ve turned in a synopsis so I know where I’m going, but I have incredible surprises when I write. Katy: I gotta think the surprises would be the best part for an author. Claudia Mair: With Wounded: A Love Story, the ending totally floored me. I was like, “Whaaaaaat!?!?” And with Zora and Nicky: A Novel in Black and White, I got so exhausted that I put a placeholder ending on it just so I could turn it in. I knew I wouldn’t use that ending, but it was deadline time. I had to let it go, and I didn’t have the real ending yet. I put it in in the second draft, and it worked out. But for awhile there I had no idea where I was going with that. Katy: They let you turn in stuff with “placeholders”? Placeholders happen to be my forte! So, you’re saying your characters can tend to get away from you? Claudia Mair: Sometimes, I have to let my characters do something because I want to see how it feels, but they let me know if it doesn’t work (my editors are pretty good at that, too!). But really, your story itself will reveal its weaknesses if you have eyes to see and ears to hear. So, yeah, I will write the crazy first, and then see what the real story is. Katy: Do you write a lot of stuff you don’t end up using? Claudia Mair: I’ve thrown out hundreds of pages, but I wrote them because I needed to explore something. Explorers may have some idea of what they’ll find, but they don’t know for sure until they “go there.” Katy: Okay, now you’re scaring me a little! Who reads for you before you submit? Claudia Mair: Sometimes a friend or Ken and my daughter Abbie will help me brainstorm, but it’s not a formal thing. I have a few readers that tell me if I’ve written a story they can connect with. They read all my rough drafts, and lemme tell ya, they are rough, baby! But they don’t do involved critiques. Their job is to tell me if I wrote a story that held them till the end. Sometimes they tell me a little more, but mostly it’s about helping me discern if I wrote with heart. Katy: Heart. Oh, yeah. That’s the most crucial thing of all. Claudia Mair: I do a lot by instinct and flying blind. Maybe I should be in a group. We can start one, Katy. The Saint Francis De Sales Society. He’s the patron saint of writers. Katy: My eyes saw that last phrase wrong. I thought you said, “He’s the patron saint of whiners.” Which would also work for me. Claudia Mair: Get your saints straight, Katy. Katy: I’ll work on that. You have a whole bunch of books coming out around the same time, which is fantastic for your eager readers. Can you tell us what you’re working on now? Claudia Mair: Right now I’m working on my second Young Adult novel, The Exorsistah #2: The Return of X, and then I’m going right into the third one as soon as I’m done. Katy: Are these about what I think they’re about? Claudia Mair: I’m telling you, Katy, writing about demons is a trip. They don’t like it. Katy: The demons? Claudia Mair: They try to kick my butt in a big way. I have to become an exorsistah myself just to finish writing the books. I’m not kidding. Never do I encounter such difficulty writing a novel, such resistance, as I do with those. Katy: You’re talkin’ spiritual warfare? Claudia Mair: I have to keep a copy of the Bible, some kick-devil-butt exorcism prayers, and the book The War of Art by the bedside. Have you read that one, Katy? Talk about getting you going when you’re stuck! In fact, I should have picked it up about three months ago. Katy: I will check out the book! Lord knows I need all the help I can get getting unstuck. It’s been a joy and a privilege having you here on fallible, my friend. I know that one of my fortunate commenters is going to blessed winning a two-book set of the Amanda Bell Brown Mysteries. Thank you! Claudia Mair: Thanks for having me, sis. You’re incredible. I still have the prayer beads you made me! Never met a rosary I didn’t like. Posted by Katy on 06/27/08 Permalink Priceless (#1277) So we spent lots of hours in the ER the other day before Mom finally got admitted. Completely unlike her last trip to the ER, during which she expressed her utter…um…dislike for me, Doug, the nurses and the doc, Mom was in a patient (ha!) and even pleasant mood. Who does HER meds, huh? Anyway, my little sister Bridget was standing near the gurney at one point, so that Mom saw her profile. Out of the blue, Mom said, “You look so pretty, just standing there.” Bridget is beautiful, but this was so unlike my mother to say that I think Bridgie and I both nearly cried. About an hour later, lacking other amusement, I assumed the pose Bridget had and said to Mom, “I need you to say one to me.” “One what?” “You know, something like you said to Bridget. Something like, ‘You look so pretty, just standing there.’” Mom hesitated, so I figured she must not think I’m much of a looker. And that’s OK. Really, it is. I’ve got 13 long years on Bridget, after all. Then she said, “I think you look a lot like Kathy Griffin.” I gasped a little, then she went on. “And I think you are talented and could have a career on the stage.” “Whoa, Mommy!” I said. “An affirmation!” “A what?” “It doesn’t matter what you call it. That was really, really sweet.” And you know what? Today, as we visited her in the hospital, I purposely affirmed her. I don’t remember now what I said, but it was about something that she’s doing well at this stage of her life. She said that was very nice to hear. Then Bridget and I recalled different times and occasions when Mom has looked “beautiful,” and I know it pleased her for us to say so. There are a lot of us adult (WAY adult!) kids out here who are still wishing to hear an encouraging word from a parent, but it works both ways. Every human soul needs to be acknowledged, praised, and loved. Even our parents, no matter their age. I’ll gladly put my life on Broadway aside a bit longer, if it means I’ve got a chance to touch the heart of my one-and-only mother. Posted by Katy on 06/21/08 Permalink A Veritable Dearth Of Posts (#1276) My mother is in the hospital—-again. This is Day Three. I guess I’ve mentioned here that she now has C.diff, a horrible bacterial infection of the intestine that usually begins with too many courses of antibiotics and ends with Dear Lord You Really Don’t Want To Know. She’s suffered with this for what? Three months? Honestly, a daughter loses count after awhile. Now she’s got complications of THAT condition. Yesterday she had a sigmoidoscopy and got through it OK. Haven’t met with the GI doc to talk about results yet. Today is the first day I paused long enough to discover that the hospital wifi, it is free. As usual, small mercies everywhere. Mom has also been in good spirits, which makes all of our lives so much easier. She’s had five UTIs so far in 2008, and that was icky enough. This is….ickier. Small mercies, received with gratitude. Thank you, Jesus. Posted by Katy on 06/21/08 Permalink Ireland In June (#1272) How I long for the auld sod this time of year! Okay, I’m exaggerating. This time of year has nothing to do with it. Our first trip to Ireland and Scotland, in 2000, occurred in July/August. Our second trip, in 2006, was in April/May. But I can tell you this: No matter what month and what season, I yearn to go back. It has nothing to do with this time of year. It’s truly every time of year. Today, though, I’m happy to refer all you Celtic hearts to BJ Hoff’s site. This isn’t the first time BJ, herself a novelist who’s written many historicals about Ireland, has shared her favorite books and music, and let me just say that her recommendations are always excellent. I’ve read the books on the potato famine that BJ refers to, and I learned a lot from them. (But I’ve learned just as much about that topic from her novels…) Besides the books she mentions, my library contains histories of County Monaghan (land of my recent ancestors), and such wild stories of Fenian rebels, hunger strikers, and other malcontents (purchased in a Sinn Fein bookstore in Belfast) that I hesitate to mention them by name for fear of stirring up the Troubles all over again. BJ, I’m sure, is more balanced than ever I’ll be! She won’t lead you astray. If you love all things Celtic as much as I do, don’t fail to visit her site! Posted by Katy on 06/17/08 Permalink Diana, Come On Down! (#1267) I’m gratified to say that a brand new commenter to fallible, Diana, has been randomly chosen to win a free copy of Deb Raney’s latest novel. Leaving November. Have a great time reading it, Diana, and thank you for playing! Oh, and email me with your postal address. Yes, that would be important…. Posted by Katy on 06/12/08 Permalink I Hesitate To Say You’re Doubly Lucky, But Hey. You Are. (#1262) Today, I’ve got another free book giveaway going on. One fortunate and fallible commenter will receive a copy of Deb Raney’s book Leaving November. However, the rules have changed, just this once. This time, to gain a chance to win this lovely novel, you will be leaving a comment on any post at my NEW blog, LateBoomer.net. (You’ll see a link in the left sidebar, too, for future reference.) I’m hoping a bunch of you visit LateBoomer often, so this is my way of introducing the site to you. It will be filled with lots of into/inspiration/entertainment of interest to readers of a certain age, if you catch my drift. And if you’ve arrived at that age somewhat clueless about how to proceed from here, so much the better! Now, about Deb’s book. Some of you will recall that I had the joy of interviewing Deb when Remember to Forget released. Leaving November is the second in the Clayburn series, but I think of it as a stand-alone book. Here’s the back-cover copy: “Eight years ago, Vienne Kenney moved away from Clayburn and all its gossip to pursue a law degree in California. But now she has failed the bar exam again. Is she destined to be stuck forever, a failure—-just like her father—-in this two-horse Kansas town? Nine months ago, Jackson Linder left Clayburn with no explanation to anybody. Now he, too, is back. He isn’t sure he’s ready to face the rumors and well-meaning questions of the town’s busybodies. Yet he’s determined, once more, to make his art gallery a success—-in spite of the secret that haunts him every day…” Vienne’s father is dead and here’s the thing: She wasn’t sorry to see him go. In fact, she could never understand why her long-suffering mother put up with him at all. But she’s promised herself one thing: She will never fall for a man like her father—-ever. Too bad she’s already fallen for the charming Jackson before she finds out how much like her father he is. If you’d like to read my interview with Deb, here it is. Let me tell you, if you like issues-rich novels authentically set in small towns, no one does it better! Now, hop on over to LateBoomer and leave me a comment! I’ll randomly choose a commenter to win a copy of Leaving November on Wednesday. Posted by Katy on 06/09/08 Permalink Write The Next Chapter! (#1261) My new blogging and writing buddy Kathryn Harris, who’s an editor at The Norfolk Daily News in Norfolk, Nebraska, is sponsoring a fun contest through the newspaper. I know there are dozens of aspiring novelists who read fallible, and I can’t pass up the chance to recommend this contest. At the paper’s website, Kathryn has written the first short chapter of a compelling novel, and she’d love to read the next paragraph, scene, or chapter from YOU. You do know that many famous novelists got their start serializing their stories in newspapers, don’t you? One of my favorite authors ever, the Scottish Victorian preacher and novelist George MacDonald, supported his large family largely by releasing his novels in dribs and drabs to Scotland’s newspapers. So here’s your chance to get your work read! In the case that more than one person submits a piece for the same spot, the piece published will be at the sole discretion of the newspaper editors. Read all about it here, and then get those scenes and chapters (or even paragraphs!) written! And, above all, have fun with it! Posted by Katy on 06/06/08 Permalink About The Post Directly Beneath This Post! (#1255) For some reason, I cannot edit my previous post to correct some obvious errors. There are three that I know of. In the first sentence, the word “don’t” should actually be “won’t.” Then I refer to an “alliance garage” in which we keep our toaster. The term is “appliance garage.” Finally, I write a whole paragraph about the wonderful word “doterage,” and evidently THERE IS NO SUCH WORD. The correct word is dotage, which I will from now on use, clear into my fast-approaching dotage. I will need to start my own collection of non-words soon, I fear. The first two will be “endulge” and “doterage.” Pretty cool words, eh? I don’t know. Maybe I should stick to exploding eggs. Posted by Katy on 06/04/08 Permalink Deaf. And Evidently Dumb, Too (#1253) If I get much more fallible, I don’t know what to expect next. Here’s the deal: I am FOREVER giving my husband little pointers on how not to burn the house down (Don’t walk away from the stove when you’re cooking! Pull the toaster out from the “alliance garage” thingie when you’re toasting! Never lay a potholder or a dishtowel on the stovetop!) He tends to be scatterbrained and I am trying to help him get into the kind of good habits that might save our lives in our doterage. By the way, I just googled doterage to make sure I spelled it correctly. Guess what? Fallible.com appears NUMBER FOUR in among all the tens of thousands of websites using the word! Wait a minute—-there are only 71 occurrences of the word doterage on the entire WORLD WIDE WEB? That can’t be right! DOTERAGE is an excellent word, and should be used by SOMEONE besides ME! I hope that if someone else uses the word doterage, she does it in a way that can save my sorry behind, for you see, I’ve got nothing on poor Doug. I did the DUMBEST thing imaginable for a mostly deaf person. I put a dozen eggs in a pan of water, set the pan on the stove to boil, and walked away. OF COURSE I set the stove’s timer, because that’s what intelligent people do, right? Even though I NEVER forget that I’ve put something on the stove, I would never risk my home, my body, or for that matter my EGGS by not setting the timer. But then I went into the other room, sat down to finish crocheting a baby blanket I’m making for my niece, and TURNED ON THE TV—-something I never do in the middle of the day. That must have been some compelling television, not that I could have heard the timer even in the absence of the TV. But I’ll tell you what I did hear! Gunfire!!! I am alone in the house, and I thought for sure someone had broken in and started shooting even before they located me down the hall. It only took several seconds for this illogical idea to cause me to move on down the line thought-wise. And suddenly I heard myself exclaim “EGGS!” Let me just say that if you’ve never heard and watched a pan full of eggs EXPLODE, you’ve had an uneventful life. Now, HOW will I explain all this ahem excitement to Doug? In spite of the lessons on fire safety I’ve tried my darndest to share with him, I’ve pulled the craziest trick yet. Knowing him, he’ll take it in stride. He’ll probably get a good chuckle out of it, and he sure won’t make me feel any worse about the situation than I already do. What can I say? The guy dotes on me. Posted by Katy on 06/04/08 Permalink O.P.T. (#1248) I just came from visiting Mom, and I gotta say this is the most cognizant she’s been in a very long time. Cognizant and something approaching cheerful. Cognizant and cheerful and nice. I’m still reeling from the experience. I expected her to be sound asleep at 9 am, as she usually is. Instead, she was sitting on her couch watching TV, dressed and in her right mind. If you count a t-shirt and a Depends as dressed, and if you count “in her right mind” as wanting to talk about Joel Osteen and tough toenails. Fortunately for me, I have ever-adjusting standards. “You know that new man I’ve been telling you about? Henry? He goes to a different church every Sunday.” “Well, he just moved here from another city,” I said. “Maybe he’s church shopping.” Why did I use a piece of Christianese like that? Mom didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. She looked confused and that’s not the look I was going for. “All I know is he comes back from church and tells us the sermon was terrible or the sermon was really great. Sometimes, he even goes to Bible study in the middle of the week.” “An interesting man, I’d say,” I said. “So the other day I ask him if he’s ever heard of Joel Osteen. You know Joel, don’t you?” “I do,” I answered. “I love him. No fire and brimstone. He’s very calm. Just tells it like it is and then he’s done.” “Had Henry heard of him?” “Henry loves Joel! I told him I’d just caught Joel on that morning, when I thought he was only on at night. Henry did not know he was on in the morning, either. He said we’d look at his TV Guide together and try to figure out all the times we can see Joel.” “Well, that’s a nice thing you two are talking about. Very cool…” Mom and her nearly-100-year-old friend Annie have gotten called on the carpet recently for talking trash about the other residents—-IN FRONT OF THEM. In fact, Henry hasn’t lived there more than a month, and the two ladies dished the dirt on him thoroughly. He weighs maybe 500 pounds, and when he said in the lunchroom how he’d had his first shower and how nice it was to get some help, my mother spoke up LOUDLY and said, “Where’d they bathe him? At the CAR WASH?” But now she and Henry have something fascinating in common: they are both Joel Osteen enthusiasts. I am not complaining. Mom went on. “Then Henry asked me if I knew that Joel had written a couple of books, and I said yes, I knew.” Mom can’t read anymore. Just can’t. No newspapers, no magazines, no books. She can’t write, either. Or do simple math, or fill out a check. “Do you want me to pick you up one of Joel’s books?” I asked, ever the optimist. “No! I’m sure not going to read Joel if I haven’t even read Tony Orlando!” After I stopped having a near-death experience laughing, I said, “So what else has been going on?” “Toe Day.” “No, not that, Mom. Please, can we talk about something else? I can’t handle…” “You need to hear this, Katy. It was a disaster.” I started to gag but controlled myself. “OK, Mom. Tell me.” “It was scheduled from one to three, right? So thirteen of us gathered in the big room with the fireplace at one. Of course, some of us know to get there early, so we won’t miss out.” “I thought you signed up for time slots with the podiatrist. Don’t they knock on your apartment door when it’s your turn?” “No, silly. You’ve got to be there at one, on the dot. And we were—-all thirteen of us. But guess what? Dr. Gout never showed.” “But he only comes every two months…” “He got busy at another facility. Didn’t even call. So the whole lot of us were circled up with our shoes off for two hours, waiting. There went my whole day, not that we didn’t have a good time. It’s the best thing on the activities calendar, bar none.” “Weren’t they showing Pretty Woman last night? That sounds like a lot more fun. You love Richard Dreyfus.” “Gere, Katy. I love Richard Gere. But even Gere doesn’t beat Toe Day. Just LOOK at my toenails! In fact, could you grab those clippers on the nightstand and try to…” I ran from the apartment, silently screaming. I have made a promise to myself that I will never consider Toe Day a social event and, even though I am a very useful and helpful person otherwise, I will stick to my guns about not cutting O.P.T.—-Other People’s Toenails. I looked back over my shoulder to shout good-bye and “I love you!” to Mom as I flew down the hall. The last thing I heard her say was, “It’s gonna take a whole lot of Joel to calm her down.” Posted by Katy on 06/02/08 Permalink Page 10 of 84 pages « First < 8 9 10 11 12 > Last »


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Personal blog of christianwriter & fallible momKaty McKenna Raymondin Kansas City, Missouri

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