‘It wasn’t the fun, the novelty, the magic that mattered anymore. What mattered was that Little Bear should be happy. For that, he would take on almost anything.’ – ‘The Indian in the Cupboard’, Lynne Reid Banks
Mentioned ‘movie magic as a result of chancy budgets’ previously; this week I learned that the baby carriage scene in The Untouchables? (If you know, you know) That whole ending scene was supposed to be a big, runaway train kind of setpiece but…budget. And maybe folks would talk breathlessly to this day about the big, runaway train but say The Untouchables and see if you don’t hear “Oh, that baby carriage!”
Also the General Lee was supposed to be a Chevrolet Chevelle, but Dodge Chargers were cheaper…
Editing: almost three months after hanging out my shingle I’ve had one client—and thankful I was to hear, this very morning, from the writer that my input has been ‘invaluable.’ Especially considering how (unfortunately) little chance there is that the guy whose story is being told will make his money back in sales. I make certain to warn potential clients about this before taking anybody’s money but still – getting paid in circumstances where people hoping to then make a profit almost certainly won’t…doesn’t sit super well with me. I don’t feel I’m being dishonest but it just…doesn’t sit well.
Meanwhile the guy who prompted all this back in February, telling me (as I had asked God to have somebody do, if He wanted me to even start offering) “I’ll pay you if I have to”, found out last night that he lost his job, has no money for editing. I don’t desperately need his project or any other, we’re blessed, but for the record, uh, one client in three months and all the people who were ‘definitely going to hire me’ when initially pitched have, as of right now, fallen by the wayside.
I’m wrestling with that one—feeling simultaneously like I’m kinda failing and also glad to not take people’s money when I think they’re throwing it away. I’ll be glad when harvest comes and my own writing is paying off and Tiffany and I can talk about “remember when you were available to edit people?”
My writing: as of about thirty minutes ago Hawkstone is written up, twenty-seven words shy of 80K; after this blog post I’ll be taking the rest of Saturday off, Sunday off, and then…
Well.
A lot can happen in forty-eight hours so I don’t know what to think about Monday but if nothing changes, Monday morning I’m…
…not sure how to describe it. On sabbatical? On standby? On strike?
Not on strike. That implies I have waiting work I refuse to perform.
And I’d love to jump into the next thing. Busy Season doesn’t start for another month, two of three children still have four more weeks of school, I really don’t want to sit around watching old I Spy episodes.
But though Monday morning I could absolutely start writing Silent Skater the screenplay, or put together a scene list for The Kid the screenplay, comb online libraries for research information on fighter pilots or stuntmen or Olympic training or tornado chasing or indy bands or stand-up comics or building fighting robots, that’s seven different potential novel bases which do not in any way represent all the percolating ideas…
Right this second and like I say a lot can change in two days, well, God hasn’t directed me to a next thing
and for the first time in five years, I got the words back five years ago yesterday,
for the first time in five years after eight novels, three screenplays, two miniseries and 225 blog posts
there’s nothing, right this second, that I want to work on.
Sabbatical. Standby.
The last two novels I’ve largely jumped in, with God’s encouragement, not knowing how they’d end.
Right this second this feels like that, in a way—whereas I was ready with those books to face a blank page, trusting my writing partner to hand me the story as I needed it, looks like Monday I get to sit with life a Blank Page, at least where the Vision is concerned,
trusting my writing partner to craft my story as needed.
Maybe I’ll wake up on fire for something, morning of the 22nd.
Maybe some time off will allow for fresh tread on worn tires.
Maybe this is all about a deeper trust in Him.
Maybe something really big, an unexpected and important project, is just around the corner which God can see and I cannot, and He knows I wouldn’t want to put down something lesser when it arrives.
I don’t know.
What I do know is that as and if I submit to this facet of the Waiting it’s up to me where I put my focus.
The pictures accompanying this post – apologies for the never-great picture-of-a-picture screenshots but they aren’t my pictures, so I’m posting in a (hopefully) Free Use kind of way to illustrate my point.
Nothing against that dragonfly up there at the top but right now, to say nothing of Monday morning, I could narrow my focus to five years and still no harvest or three months and one client or any number of little, annoying disappointments or setbacks or frustrations flitting about. They’re always flitting about.
Or I can take it upon myself to open my eyes further, see the forest around, bigger troubles like what if I’m doine writing again or if God doesn’t move this doesn’t happen or what if God never moves
Or…or I can lift mine eyes even higher, take in the full picture, for all I’m focusing at that point on things over which I have little to no control or authority, and remember just how good He is
And enjoy the view.
Somebody recently said author Kristen Hannah is worth reading. I don’t know what her writing is like but I do know, having looked her up on Amazon, that she’s not hurting for fans.
In a writing world where 99.999 percent of the books out there have zero reviews, getting 100 reviews is relatively rare and hard to accomplish, and 10,000 marks the folks you’ve heard of, the ones having novels optioned for movies, Kristen Hannah has hundreds of thousands of reviews. Without actually checking on, say, Grisham or Clancy or Crichton or King I’ve never seen books with that much approval.
And when I saw that I had a choice. There’s always, always, always a choice.
In this case I could see hundreds of thousands of reviews and, well, despair.
‘Look how well she’s doing. I don’t have one ten-thousandth the approval she’s got and this road seems endless and if God doesn’t move nothing is going to happen
Or I can look at the exact same information, the exact same picture, and think
‘WOW! Who says nobody reads anymore?’
In the natural there are circumstances I can magnify, elevate, give all my attention to and quite reasonably find depressing. Frustrating.
But God does not change, God is ever faithful, He’s promised and I am doing everything He’s asked me to do
and it’s my choice, it’s always my choice what gets my attention.
I mean, with apologies to Gertrude Stein, I’ve been depressed and I’ve been encouraged and encouraged is better. It’s not easier, not by a long shot, but definitely better.
Honestly, what point noticing the wind and the waves? Walking on water wouldn’t be any more possible, any more under my control and authority if the Sea of Galilee were perfectly calm.
So I might as well lift up mine eyes, for all it takes more effort, and keep them on Him
where they belong.
It’s not magic, Best Beloved, and it’s not the easy thing to do. It takes effort.
But I always have the choice.
He’s well pleased with me – that’s the only thing that really matters today
“I look to You, heaven-dwelling God, look up to you for help. Like servants, alert to their Master’s commands, like a maiden attending her lady, we’re watching and waiting, holding our breath…” – Psalm 123 – MSG
It’ll only be a moment…
Don’t forget to write
The Story So Far 