by Bookworm Mama | Jun 29, 2018 | Fridays from the Archives
As I madly work on my next story, I am taking a look back on thoughts about The Lost Heiress today.
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| Children on a Path Outside a Thatched Cottageby Helen Allingham, late 19th century |
With the first round of edits wrapped up on A Soft Breath of Wind, I moved on this week to my first round of edits on The Lost Heiress. (Lots of editing going on around here!) There are some changes I know I’m going to make, some inconsistencies I’m finding. An old (for me) story taking on new life.
But one of the major themes in this book has been there since I was 12, when I first started writing it–the one that involves Brook, this noblewoman raised in a country not her own, finding her rightful place. Finding her home. Finding her family.
When I was writing this in seventh and eighth grades, it was easy for her. She lifted her chin, screwed her stubbornness and faith into place, and took England by storm. Her family all adored her, London adored her, life adored her. The only people who didn’t were the bad guys, because they were evil and therefore couldn’t love.
When I was writing this in seventh and eighth grades, I was trying to find my place. Trying to adjust to friends who were suddenly interested in boys instead of Barbies, in being popular instead of being genuine. I was trying to figure out how to be who I knew I was in a world that demanded I be who they wanted to make me.
I was an outspoken 13-year-old. The kind that refused to be led by other kids my age because, frankly, I found them obnoxious. I was the one who thought about consequences. About right and wrong. I was the one who told the other girls at the sleepover that if they were serious about trying a seance, I was going to call my mom and go home. The one who said if they were seriously going to try to sneak out, I would lock the windows and stand guard. The kind who greeted gossip with, “Are your lives so boring that you have nothing better to talk about than me? Seriously? Sorry to hear it.”
Yes, I was an outspoken 13-year-old. But I also wanted those I liked to like me back. I didn’t want arguments for no reason. I wanted to please people, when I deemed them worth pleasing.
I remember one time in the cafeteria, talking about spaghetti, of all things. I proclaimed my mom’s homemade sauce the best (which it is. Just sayin’.). A friend asked, “Does it have chunks of tomatoes?” in a voice that I interpreted as meaning “because if it’s the best, it will.”
Now, my mom’s sauce is ground totally smooth. But I hedged and said something along the lines of, “I don’t know, maybe a few.”
My friend then said, “I hate chunks of tomatoes.”
And there I had a conundrum that brought me to an epiphany. My desire to make this friend agree with me made me lie–and now the truth, which would have been pleasing, couldn’t be spoken. That was the day when I realized that my yes must be yes and my no be no. That was the day when I realized that having someone’s good opinion didn’t mean squat if it wasn’t the right opinion.
That was the day when I realized that my place in life couldn’t always be easy–but that it was only worth having if it was really mine.
I’ve never been one of those people to be found in a gaggle. I have some awesome friends, but the best ones are few. I have an amazing family, but I’m not the one always throwing parties, or going to them. I’m not the popular one. Sometimes I wish I were, sometimes I wish people showed up to things when I host them, that I knew how to draw a crowd. Sometimes I wish my place was what Brook’s used to be in my story–beloved by all, effortlessly.
But it’s not who I am. And it’s not my place. It’s never been my place, not when I was a kid penning her first novel in class, and not now when I’m rewriting it.
Brook’s place has changed now too. Because even though 13-year-old-me wanted to believe someone could have it all, 31-year-old-me knows better. Because while there may have been, in some point in history, one young woman who was beautiful and rich and popular and of strong faith and different from everyone else…that’s not the story most of us know.
And it’s not the story I needed to write this time around. This time around, I needed a story of someone who had to fight for her home. Someone who had to decide whether she was going to be molded or if she would do the molding. Someone who had to choose what path she would tread and then face the consequences.
Someone who is less who I wished I were back then…and more who I grew to be.
Someone whose place wasn’t just waiting for her–someone who had to find it. And when she does, she finds there are those in it who oppose her. And those who would do anything for her.
Because that is life. We can never have it all.
But we can have what matters most.
by Bookworm Mama | Jun 6, 2018 | Books, Giveaways and Contests, What We're Reading
Summer is just around the corner! I am excited to have a break from homeschooling for a little bit and although I will be writing like a madwoman to meet deadlines, I hope to squeeze in some much-needed reading time as well.
Whether you are taking road trips, hanging by the pool, or escaping to the lake this summer…Here are a few books that I HIGHLY recommend you take along with you. I have included links to purchase each book. Don’t forget to check out sites like
Audible,
Christian Audio, and
SCRIBD for access to Audiobooks, ebooks, and more (free trials are great!).
A Light on a Hill
by Connilyn Cossette
“This is biblical fiction at its finest! Engrossing, engaging, and stunningly written.” Roseanna
Seven years ago, Moriyah was taken captive in Jericho and branded with the mark of the Canaanite gods. Now the Israelites are experiencing peace in their new land, but Moriyah has yet to find her own peace. Because of the shameful mark on her face, she hides behind her veil at all times and the disdain of the townspeople keeps her from socializing. And marriage prospects were out of the question . . . until now.
Her father has found someone to marry her, and she hopes to use her love of cooking to impress the man and his motherless sons. But when things go horribly wrong, Moriyah is forced to flee. Seeking safety at one of the newly-established Levitical cities of refuge, she is wildly unprepared for the dangers she will face, and the enemies–and unexpected allies–she will encounter on her way. (Amazon)
If I Run Series
by Terri Blackstock
“Powerful and riveting! I loved each installment, and the series ended with a bang!” – Roseanna
Casey knows the truth.
But it won’t set her free.
Casey Cox’s DNA is all over the crime scene. There’s no use talking to police; they have failed her abysmally before. She has to flee before she’s arrested . . . or worse. The truth doesn’t matter anymore.
But what is the truth? That’s the question haunting Dylan Roberts, the war-weary veteran hired to find Casey. PTSD has marked him damaged goods, but bringing Casey back can redeem him. Though the crime scene seems to tell the whole story, details of the murder aren’t adding up. Casey Cox doesn’t fit the profile of a killer. But are Dylan’s skewed perceptions keeping him from being objective? If she isn’t guilty, why did she run?
Unraveling her past and the evidence that condemns her will take more time than he has, but as Dylan’s damaged soul intersects with hers, he is faced with two choices. The girl who occupies his every thought is a psychopathic killer . . . or a selfless hero. And the truth could be the most deadly weapon yet. (Goodreads – If I Run)
Across the Blue
by Carrie Turansky
“I’m thoroughly enjoying this charming and delightful glimpse of aviation in its early days.” – Roseanna
Set in Edwardian England and ideal for readers who enjoy Julie Klassen novels, this romance about an English aviation pioneer and the girl who falls in love with him is filled with adventure and faith.
Isabella Grayson, the eldest daughter of a wealthy, English newspaper magnate, longs to become a journalist, but her parents don’t approve. They want her to marry well and help them gain a higher standing in society. After she writes an anonymous letter to the editor that impresses her father, her parents reluctantly agree she can write a series of articles about aviation and the race to fly across the English Channel, but only if she promises to accept a marriage proposal within the year. When James Drake, an aspiring aviator, crashes his flying machine at the Grayson’s new estate, Bella is intrigued. James is determined to be the first to fly across the Channel and win the prize Mr. Grayson’s newspaper is offering. He hopes it will help him secure a government contract to build airplanes and redeem a terrible family secret. James wants to win Bella’s heart, but his background and lack of social standing make it unlikely her parents would approve. If he fails to achieve his dream, how will he win the love and respect he is seeking? Will Bella’s faith and support help him find the strength and courage he needs when unexpected events turn their world upside down? (Goodreads)
Giveaway
In honor of these fabulous books, I am giving away a PRINT copy of Across the Blue to ONE lucky winner!
Giveaway ends 6/12/18 at 11:59pm EDT
Open to US mailing addresses only. Void where prohibited.
by Bookworm Mama | May 25, 2018 | Fridays from the Archives
It is quite amazing the things that we learn, discover, when we teach our children. This is one that struck me back in 2012 and which I’ve thought of frequently since.
It’s hard to wait, when we can’t see our prayers being answered. Even when we’re fresh from a spiritual victory, our memories are short in the face of our doubts. But this story of Elijah constantly reminds me that we can’t give up.
What truths have been spoken to you this week?
Originally Published 1/19/2012
Yesterday in our homeschool Bible reading, we got to one of the best-known stories of Elijah–where he challenged the 450 priests of Baal to an altar competition. (Okay, my words, not theirs, LOL.) You remember it, I’m sure. The priests of Baal build their altar, put on their bullock, pray and pray and pray to Baal for fire to come down from heaven and light the altar.
Nothing. I love this story partially because of how Elijah taunts them. Can’t you just see that wily smile as he says, “Maybe your god’s asleep. Or on vacation. Cry louder.”
And they do, LOL. Then, of course, after that fails, Elijah builds his alter on the exact spot it should have been all these years, puts on his bullock, and has TWELVE barrels of water dumped onto the altar. Now, it hasn’t rained for years and years at this point, so that was probably some precious stuff. Elijah prayed, and fire swooshed down from heaven, devoured the offering, the water, and the very stones.
AWESOME.
But something new jumped out at me yesterday. After the priests of Baal were killed, after everyone fled, Elijah and his servant prayed again. See, it was time for the promised rain to come. Time for the drought to end. Time to bring relief for the people.
So Elijah fell to his knees and beseeched God. God, the Lord, who had just an hour earlier sent heavenly fire for him. God, the Lord, who had led him here. God, the Lord, who had promised, “And then you’ll pray again, and I’ll send the rains.”
Elijah prayed. And his servant looked out over the sea and said, “Nothing. Not a cloud on the horizon.”
So Elijah prayed again. Still, there was nothing. So he prayed again. And again. And again. And again. Each time, his servant went to check the horizon. Each time, he saw . . . absolutely . . . nothing.
This is what hit me. Seven times Elijah had to pray before that mist began to rise out of the sea. Seven times! Do you think he was wondering what was taking so long? I mean, the fire had been immediate. So why the wait now? Why was God not listening? Had He changed His mind and not told Elijah? Can you imagine that prophet looking over his shoulder and thinking, “Wow, glad all those priests aren’t watching this now.”
Okay, so Elijah may not have had those thoughts, LOL, but I probably would have. I probably would have thought round about prayer number four, “God, You promised! You promised!! ‘Pray for rain,’ You said, ‘and I’ll make it rain.’ Well, I’m praying–so where’s the rain?!”
But Elijah was faithful. We don’t know how long each of these prayers was, but I have a feeling it was a little more in-depth than, “Oh, Lord, please let it rain!” 😉 This man was prostrate before the Lord, begging. Begging for the rains to come.
What if he had given up? What if he said, “Sigh. Maybe the Lord doesn’t want me to be a prophet anymore.”? Had he only prayed, say, five times, what would have become of Israel?
Doubt, discouragement is natural–the very next day, when Elijah hears that Jezebel is out to kill him, he forgets to pray and just runs. Runs. Even though God sent the fire, sent the rain, Elijah doesn’t even think to ask him to save his life. But God catches up with him on the mountain he runs to, after sustaining him during the run.
God’s always there while we’re running. He’s there while we’re hiding in the cave. He’s there while we’re praying, stirring up the mists, even though we can’t see them yet. He’s there. Not in the whirlwind, not in the earthquake . . . in the whisper. In the whisper is the voice of the Lord, just waiting for us to quiet up enough to hear Him. Waiting for us to listen. Waiting for us to wait upon Him.
How many times have we prayed for the same thing? How many times do we not see it happen and get discouraged?
But the Lord is stirring up the mists in the sea while we pray. He’s working in the mysteries we can’t understand, working within our world, our time, our reality so that everything will line up just so for us. We can’t see all that–our eyes are only human.
But He’s there. Preparing the rain.
Our part is to stay on our knees until we see it.
by Bookworm Mama | May 18, 2018 | Fridays from the Archives
God’s blessings never cease to amaze and inspire me. Looking back over the last 8 years, and seeing where each step has brought me. Of course, it wasn’t all easy breezy, but knowing that the Lord brought me to the right place in HIS time, nothing gets better than that.
Original post published on 2/4/2010
Yesterday morning, I received what every author dreads: a rejection. And this isn’t your run-of-the-mill, “Thanks, but after reading the proposal, it’s not what we’re looking for.” This comes after a year of encouragement, of high praise, and of a statement that they wanted it and would have a letter of intent to me “soon.”
“Soon” somehow became, “sorry.” Which makes Roseanna go “sigh” and “sniffle” and even a short “sob” before I get a grip on myself.
I’m an old friend with rejection. I’ve been submitting manuscripts since I was fourteen years old, so I’ve obviously gotten my fair share. Everything from the boiler-plate “thanks but no thanks” letters to some very personal, very encouraging apologies. That’s what this one was. The editor loved the story and wants to work with me, but their line’s going in a different direction. I understand that. Really I do. And I appreciate that she offered to talk with me about coming up with another idea.
But that doesn’t make it any easier, you know? For a year, my hopes have been so high on this project. I really, truly believed that this was my “given,” that the encouragement meant I could count on it. But when an optimist like me gets news like this . . . well, there’s some deflation. There’s a headache. There’s some glumness in a royal shade of blue.
And there’s a question of, “What was the point of this, Lord? I know You have a purpose for me, for every bump, for every bruise. I know there’s a reason this was dragged out so long only to end in a disheartening ‘no.’ So if You could just let me know what that is . . . ?”
There’s no magic cure for disappointment, no Band-aid you can put on it, no steps you can follow to put it neatly behind you and keep plugging away. But still, I woke up today feeling okay. Happy, even. Because yesterday I saw the true mettle of the people I love. My friends not only rallied around me with cheer and encouragement and lots of, “You’re too talented not to get picked up soon by a big house!” they had me laughing. They had the optimist in me quickly resurging.
My hubby and I ended up going out for a much-needed date last night, too, and talking to him is always a balm on my soul. I ended my day yesterday knowing that even if life makes us cry now and then, we serve a God who dries our tears. So thank you, Lord, for wrapping your arms around me. And thank you, my awesome friends, for being those arms.
by Bookworm Mama | May 15, 2018 | Announcements
Hello Reader Friends!
I just wanted to write a little note to update you all on the Privacy Policy and Disclosures for this website. You can find the policy
HERE. For future reference, this page is located at the bottom of the blog page (just scroll
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Please know that I take your privacy rights very seriously. I never share information with anyone without prior consent. And if at any time, you wish to remove your information from the list, all you have to do is unsubscribe.
May you be blessed,
But it’s not who I am. And it’s not my place. It’s never been my place, not when I was a kid penning her first novel in class, and not now when I’m rewriting it.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.