The World of Dragonfly

Okay.  So after a four-month hiatus thanks to craziness at work, I’m back at the blogging and ready to do a series about writing a novel.  Now, I’m not a writing professor or published novelist yet, but I’ve written my share of novels (about 5 or so and probably 500,000+ words) that I would let see the light of day, so I feel comfortable saying that I’ve learned a thing or two over the years about how to develop a novel.  So, that being said, keep in mind that this is my opinion and mine alone.

The first thing I always do is come up with an idea.  For me, those ideas usually spring from two sources that have to work together.  The character and the conflict.  A lot of times, the character and conflict ideas come from entirely unexpected sources.

So here’s some examples.  In one of my novels that I’ve submitted for publication, the idea came when I saw the movie The Kingdom in 2007.  I thought it was a great movie, especially since the writer and director sought not to villainize Saudi Arabians but to make one of the heroes a Saudi Arabian police officer.  That got me thinking about the cultural differences between Saudi Arabia and the American South, the Low Country around Charleston (yes, I was vacationing near Charleston at the time).  Then I began wondering and asking myself the following: “What would happen if a Saudi Arabian man was yanked out of his native culture and placed in the American South, where he comes face to face with the strong-willed steel magnolia of a southern woman?”  So up sprang the leading man and leading lady of one of my novels.

Most recently, I had another idea come to me.  It happened in April when I was working with my husband and a friend to paint the den and kitchen of our house.  Now keep in mind that this was no small undertaking and required about 16 hours of straight painting.  Which, of course, meant a lot of time listening to the radio.  We had it tuned to a station where (I kid you not), they play anything.  One of the songs that they played was Duran Duran’s “A View to a Kill,” which came from the James Bond movie of the same name.  The thought that sprang to my head was a female sniper assassin who has many kills under her belt yet finds herself coming face to face with the lifestyle she’s chosen over the past few years.  And yes, that rapidly formed into a novel that I’ve drafted.

So my point is that ideas can come from many places and can take the form of a character, a conflict, or a plot.  So if searching for ideas, keep your eyes open and observe.

Next up?  Profiling

Well, at sunset, we finally arrived home after four days of constant driving.  Not only is it good not to sit in a car, but it’s also nice to eat home cooking.  Here’s 10 observations from our trip:

1. It’s really easy to go really fast, even in a Mustang V6.  Cruise control is crucial, especially if you’re driving a yellow Mustang.
2. If you’re going to spend 4 days in a car with someone, make sure that someone is your best friend.
3. Arkansas is scary.
4. Take time to see a little bit of the scenery and visit with friends where possible.
5. After awhile, eating food on the road gets old.
6. Hampton Inns are the best for economical places to stay while on the road.
7. Using a Garmin is no substitute for a map (electronic or paper) and good, old-fashioned commonsense.
8. Road music is a must.
9. Have a spirit of adventure and be willing to backtrack if adventure looks like it could lead to nowhere.
10. Most of all, let that Pony run!

Day 3 on the road has just finished, and now, we’re in Chattanooga and “pulling for the barn” in that we’re ready to get home.  Fortunately, today was a beautiful day for driving with plenty of sun and temperatures in the 70s.  Almost warm enough for the top to be down but not quite at high speeds.  Still, we enjoyed ourselves.

First, we dropped down into the Mississippi Delta of northwestern Mississippi.  If you’ve never been there, one thing that’s noticeable is the distinct change in landscape.  Within mere feet, we went from rolling hills to land as flat as a tabletop.  I did some work in this area about nine or so years ago, and ever since then, it’s been an area that’s intrigued me.  My impressions from back then was that it’s the land time forgot, and I think that still holds true today.  It’s a poor area (nine years ago the three counties, Bolivar, Coahoma, and Tunica) were the three poorest counties in the country.  But from what I remember, it’s a relatively diverse area thanks to its history.

The land was actually settled and put into agricultural use only after the levies were built to control the floods of the neighboring Mississippi River.  Once the levies were finished, crops were planted, especially cotton.  This meant that people had to farm the fields.  After the Civil War, the landowners still needed labor.  So in came various migrant laborers, including Chinese, Italian, African American, and others.  Today, that’s evident that the diversity remains in effect.

Another interesting facet of the Delta as a whole, which runs essentially from Tennessee (or maybe further north too) down to Louisiana is its history surrounding the Great Flood of 1927.  Long story short, the flood caused the Great Migration of African Americans up North as well as served as the event that put Hoover eventually into the White House.  For more about this event and everything leading up to it, I recommend the book Rising Tide by John M. Barry.  It’s an extraordinary book.

So once we saw the Delta, we headed east, finally and passed through Oxford, home to Ole Miss as well as John Grisham.  Then it was on to Tuscumbia, Alabama where Steve’s maternal grandparents lived.  We saw the house where they lived as well as the log cabin where she was born.  It was neat to see some family history.

Finally, it was on to Chattanooga.  We’re tired, but it was a good evening filled with taking the daughter of two of our friends to supper before settling into our hotel.  Tomorrow will be our last day of driving that will hopefully send us to Cary in good fashion.

Finally, we’ve arrived in Kansas on our trip back to North Carolina.  This was our long day of driving.  I think we left at about ten or so, fully expecting to arrive in Southaven, MS, which is just south of Memphis, by seven or so.  Except that we decided to listen to our Garmin.  Bad move.

Well, it started out innocently enough.  Our plan had been to drive from Kansas City to St. Louis and drop down on I-55 from St. Louis to Memphis.  Well, as most of you know, interstate is very boring, especially interstate out in the Midwest.  Also, I’d been to Jefferson City several years ago for work, and I remembered what a charming town it was.  So we decided to go to Jefferson City and have lunch there before continuing on our way.

Jefferson City is actually the state capital for Missouri.  Supposedly, the lawmakers who wanted to put the capital there in the eighteen hundreds had actually suggested the name Missouriopolis.  Good thing the name didn’t stick.  Instead, it was named after Thomas Jefferson.  The population is about 50,000 people, so not too big for a capital.  It’s got a nice capitol building as well as a charming downtown.  We ate at a local diner, gassed up, and decided to have an adventurous streak.

That adventurous streak is what led us toward potential trouble.  I programmed our Garmin with the address of our hotel, and soon enough, we found ourselves in the wilds of Missouri, traveling down a highway that led us further and further into the hills that would lead up to the Ozarks.  We quickly realized that maybe the boring interstate was best.  The challenge remained how to get there.

We silenced the Garmin and pulled out our phones, both of which have GPS.  So we had to get back onto the interstate, but to avoid adding additional time, we decided, after much debate, to go back onto the state roads and follow the route set out by the Droid.  The state route turned into a very rural road as we twisted and curved to Interstate 55.

Safe at last on 55, we began the journey south.  I dozed, and when I woke up, our Garmin (which we’d reactivated), showed that we’d lost over 500 feet of altitude as we dropped into the Mississippi River valley.  I-55 follows the Mississippi all the way to Memphis before cutting inland and passing through central Mississippi.  As the sun went down, we realized just how flat the land was at barely 300 feet above sea level.  And talk about straight road!

We decided to stop in Blytheville, Arkansas.  As I wrote in a Facebook post, this town scared me.  The best place to eat in town?  Perkins.  There’s an Air Force base here, and we mutually agreed that we’d rather be posted in the hinterlands of New Mexico than there.  The whole place just gave me the creeps.  Needless to say, we didn’t waste any time getting back onto the road.

So here we are now, tucked away in our room just south of Memphis and getting ready to make our tour through Mississippi and Alabama.  The nice thing?  I’m back home in the South.  The Chick Fil A I saw was all of the indication I needed.

Today was a hallmark occasion for Steve and me.  Why?  Well, we embarked upon an adventure.  Maybe not the adventure of a lifetime, but definitely an adventure.  You see, today, we traveled out to the Midwest to purchase a car.  And not just any car.  It really all began three weeks ago when we determined that we were ready to purchase the car that would replace the aging Miata we have.

We were very particular about the car.  It had to be a Ford Mustang convertible.  Screaming yellow in color.  With a manual shift.  Oh, and it had to be a V6.  With that particular formula in mind, we knew it would be no easy task to find one.  Matter of fact, we knew we might have to travel to get it.  So when we were ready to buy, I went onto www.autotrader.com and put in the appropriate criteria.  One popped up for Augusta Ford.  Yes! I thought.  August, Georgia is only about six hours from Raleigh.  We could make an easy long weekend of it.  Then I looked at the state.  Not Augusta, Georgia, but Augusta, Kansas!  Whew!  What a switch.  But, hey.  Steve and I are never ones to shy away from adventure.  Why not go out to Kansas to buy a car.  But in the middle of February???  Still, we weren’t dissuaded at all from our proposed adventure.

Fast-forward through all of the back and forth with the dealer and haggling associated with the price.  We bravely boarded a 7:15 AM flight from our home airport to Kansas City.  If you’ve been following my Facebook postings, then it’s clear that the Kansas City Airport felt like something straight out of the seventies.  But hey, that was okay.  Soon, we were on our way.  And once we crossed from Missouri into Kansas, it was like we were thrust into the countryside.  There was nothing to see but some trees for miles around.  Other observations included over ten hawks sitting either in said trees or on fence posts as they waited for small prey to catch, the stink of at least four skunks, and probably fifteen windmills.  We drove through a section of Kansas called the Flint Hills.  Essentially, when we entered this area, the somewhat tree cover transformed to virtually no tree cover.  Then, when we left the Flint Hills, the land flattened into prairie dotted periodically with small oil wells, some active and some not.  Overall, the road we drove had a whole bunch of nothing.

The deal went smoothly, although I’ve come to realize that with auto dealers, never plan on being in and out.  It just never works that way.  But we rolled away with The Pony.  It’s an awesome machine.  Solid, that’s for sure.  And what they said it was with no hidden surprises.  And it’s a great car to drive, especially after I got used to a manual transmission again.

Once we returned to Kansas City, we had supper with a friend we hadn’t seen in awhile.  Awesome pizza.  Great company.  It was good to catch up.  Now, we’re both dog-tired and ready to climb into bed.  Tomorrow, we head to Memphis.  Stay tuned for another post from Ponyville.

Ladies,

Picture this scenario.  You’re a young woman, perhaps in your twenties or thirties.  Maybe married.  And maybe with children.  You’re dining with either one or both of your parents in your hometown.  You’re munching on our salad when along comes one of your parents’ friends.  Almost immediately, your mother and/or father starts bragging on you, about your career, your parenting, your children, your talents… pick your topic.  Is your reaction to blush, smile, and say “thank you”, or is it to roll your eyes and say, “Mom, Dad, really.  I’m not nearly as perfect as you’re purporting me to be!”

I think a lot of us women approach the Proverbs 31 Woman in the latter manner (see Proverbs 31:10-31).  I know I used to.  Like, how on earth could I do the following:

• Do good and not harm to my husband not just today but all the days of my life? (v. 12)
• Seek wool and flax [maybe in today's terms make wise shopping decisions]? (v. 13a)
• Work with my hands willingly [like sew clothes.  Really?] (v. 13b)
• Rise before dawn and provide food not only for my husband and wife but kids, not to mention the hired help? {v.13)
• Consider a field and buy it (make big purchases without husbandly input?)? (v. 16a)
• Work late into the night (and does this coincide with the early rising mentioned above)? (v. 18b)
• Make her own bed linens and clothing for her family? (v. 22)

Are you tired yet?  I could go on with many, many other examples, but they’re listed right there in Proverbs 31:10-31.  Me?  Usually, I’d groan and flip to another, more encouraging passage, with a resigned sigh as I admitted that no way on earth would I ever amount to anything if I kept comparing myself to the Proverbs 31 woman.

Then came last Tuesday.  You see, I meet with some women of my church for a Bible study each Tuesday night.  This year, we’re studying women in the Bible and have so far handled real women like Esther, Ruth, Sarah, and Rahab.  Then came the fictitious Proverbs 31 Woman.  I approached this chapter with a fair amount of trepidation, especially since I’d tripped myself up and because I thought I’d left the book at work so I couldn’t read the passage (long story there).

When we started discussing the passage, our leader for last week mentioned how she’d heard a different take on this passage.  One of an image where God is bragging on His daughters.  See what they can do?  How they serve their families tirelessly?  How her husband views her as his equal and trusts her in both large and small decision?  How she’s so talented?  Doesn’t that sound like how our own parents brag on us to their friends?

I thought about that for awhile.  And to be honest, it was freeing.  No longer did I have to measure myself against a woman who I viewed as perfect.  Instead, I began seeing myself as a woman who has weaknesses just like every other woman.  But also as a woman who has many talents and strengths.  Talents and strengths that those who love us like to brag on.

So, as you ladies read Proverbs 31, remember one thing.  You are loved by God.  You are His daughter, and He loves to brag on His daughters just as much as His sons.

**Many thanks to Terry for her kind words and a new take on the Proverbs 31 Woman.

I just finished reading The Shack by William Paul Young.  Mind you, I’ve read it in bits and pieces during lunch, so forgive me if I get some things wrong about the plot.  There’s been a lot of water under the bridge over the past two weeks.

The book starts out by explaining a little about the background of Mackenzie Phillips.  He’s the son of an abusive father who called himself a Christian.  Mack soon leaves home, grows up, marries a wonderful woman, graduates from seminary somewhere along the way, and then raises four children, including a young daughter, Missy.  At the age of six, Missy is kidnapped and murdered.  The Great Sadness then descends upon Mack.  Four years (I think) after the murder, God, or Papa as Mack’s wife calls him, invites Mack back to the shack where they found Missy’s torn and bloody dress.  Keep in mind that her body was never found.

Mack takes the bait.  Without telling his wife, he heads up and comes face to face with the Trinity.  Papa, in the form of an African-American woman, Jesus, a Middle Eastern carpenter, and Sarayu, an Oriental woman who is the Holy Spirit.  Throughout most of the novel, he is forced to confront the issues encompassing his life.  His past as an abused child.  The murder of his daughter.  His anger toward the murderer.  The need to seek forgiveness and to forgive forgiveness.  His ideas about the character of God and who he thinks God really is.  Though some plot exists, this is a mostly psychological book where Mack works through his issues with lots of dialog.

Here are some things to keep in mind.  First, this is a work of fiction.  Second, the author wrote this novel as an attempt to understand his own painful past.  Guideposts published an article by him recently.  Third, he never intended this to make it as a bestseller.

I know that a lot of people have issues with the theology presented in the book.  I’ll leave the theological debate up to others, as that is way out of my league.  I’ll discuss other aspects.

Plot.  The plot at times was tough for me to read, as it’s more of a psychological plot than anything else.  I could pick it up and put it down without much problem and not lose my spot.  I loved the way that each conversation seemed to address a different point of Mack’s pain.  I also saw deep echoes of the author’s own painful past in the plot as well.  He struggles to answer fundamental questions.  Who is God?  Why did this have to happen?  Can I trust Him?  Who am I really?

Characters.  The characters were interesting.  They challenged me.  And the imagery was incredible.  Wisdom as a woman, which is the image used in Proverbs, really struck me.  I also believe that he had great character development in Mack, who went from being oppressed by the Great Sadness to understanding that he is God’s child, as was Missy.

The writing itself wasn’t as smooth as many published authors, but again, it’s important to keep in mind the intent of the book.  It wasn’t meant to be published but instead was meant to be a way to convey to his children, wife, and friends, what had happened to him and how he worked through it.

So overall?

4 bones out of 5.

Next up:  How Sweet It Is, by Alice Wisler

Well, I guess you could say that Labor Day starts a new fiscal year for me.  No, it’s not the State Fiscal Year, which starts on July 1st.  Or the Federal Fiscal Year that starts on October 1st, but to me, it’s still a new fiscal year since school has started or will start soon for kids all over the nation.  Though I don’t have children, it seems as if a lot does start over.  They move up a grade in school.  At church, classes switch, and the kids move up a grade.  A new year for everyone.

And in some respects, it’s a new year for hubby and me.  We just moved a couple of months ago to a new place.  It’s nice.  Closer to family, friends, and church, and still close to work.  So it’s almost like starting up life again after a rushed and hurried summer.  And where, exactly, did summer go?

Now, I look forward to life easing back to “normal.”  Well, as “normal” as life can get.  And that includes continuing my writing, and, I hope, keeping up with this blog a little better.