Remember the scene in the movie "The
Princess Diaries" where Mia (Anne Hathaway) sits on the low stone wall
outside of her high school before classes began? A boy came along looking for space
to sit there also; he sat on her lap before realizing she was there. Mia told
her best friend about the incident and wailed, “I’m invisible, nobody sees me,”
or something like that. She didn’t fit in and felt like nobody even saw her
much less paid any attention to her. I can identify with Mia.
When I decided I wanted to write for
publication all I had were aspiration and hope. I had not studied the craft of
writing but I had loved books and reading all my life. So I sent my first
stories to Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal. Those form
rejection letters came back to me with haste. It didn’t take me long to learn
that I needed help.
I scoured the magazine racks in the
mall bookstore and found some about writing. I bought Writer’s Digest
and The Writer and devoured their contents. I discovered names of books
about all aspects of writing and lists of writing conferences. Who knew there
were writing conferences to attend and gain knowledge?
I decided my first conference would
be the Professionalism in Writing School conference in Tulsa, Oklahoma, a long
trek from Alabama. I’d read in my new magazines that I should take samples of
my writing and business cards to identify myself when I made an appointment
with an editor or agent. I didn’t have business cards and was relieved when I
read that I could put my information on a 3x5 card and share that with people
(yes, this was many years ago).
My husband let me out at the front of
the large hotel where the conference was held while he parked the car. The wind
blew horizontally all the time we were there so while waiting for him I stepped
into the area between the outer entrance doors and the doors into the lobby. A
young lady came inside pulling a carrier stacked with books and paper
materials. At the threshold of the first doors when she pulled her carrier into
the space where I stood, everything tilted and scattered around us. I timidly
helped her stack things back as best as I could. Didn’t introduce myself,
didn’t recognize her.
I’d learned in my teen years when I
was in an unfamiliar situation it would serve me well to keep my mouth shut and
my eyes and ears open. So from the outset of the conference that’s what I did.
The attendees appeared to know what they were doing so I watched and followed
their lead. But among these seasoned writers’ conference-goers I was so
invisible I didn’t even realize I was invisible. I was Mia in Princess
Diaries all over again.
I got in a line at the registration
table to receive my folder and name tag. I noticed that many folks were getting
in another line before entering the auditorium, so I again followed. When my
turn at the head of the line came, I realized they were putting their names on
sheets for 15-minute appointments, each sheet having a name at the top; the
instructions indicated these sheets were for time with editors and agents. I
signed up on an editor’s sheet and made a note of my allotted time and the room
number.
As others filed into the auditorium
so did I. Alone among groups, I found a seat with nobody on either side. I sat,
ramrod straight, eyes and ears open. Someone from the left got my attention by
asking if the seat beside me was taken. I shook my head. A woman with a
beautiful Texas drawl introduced herself, forcing me to speak my first words at
my first writers’ conference as I introduced myself.
I scanned the conference program and
marked the sessions I wanted to attend. I needed to attend them all—so
much I didn’t know. I did remember to work around my 15-minute editor
appointment. The conference director made her opening remarks and asked for
those from certain states to raise their hands. Then she said we had someone
from perhaps the farthest distance attending and called my name; she said I
came from Alabama with a banjo on my knee. Most attendees chuckled. Talk about
a memorable introduction. She pointed toward me and I raised my hand as all
eyes turned my direction. I was no longer invisible to anyone but me.
In the workshop sessions I made
copious notes but also decided I’d buy the tapes since it was impossible to get
it all written down. I browsed the book room and it was like Christmas morning
and finding delightful presents. I saw books on all aspects of the writing
craft and I wanted to buy them all. Then when the editor’s appointment time came, I made my way toward the designated room and waited my turn outside the door.
I went into the room, sat across the
table from a perky young lady and pushed my 3x5 card toward her without a word.
She picked up my card, looked at it then looked at me and said, “I’m Karen
Ball.” She asked me what I wrote, a question I couldn’t answer. I just wrote
whatever came out of my head, but I didn’t say that to her. I realize now how
gracious she was to recognize that I was out of my depth and she prodded me
along by asking what I had brought for her to look at. I had been writing short
prayers for women in circumstances they might find themselves and I’d brought
five prayers with me.
I didn’t know that Karen Ball was a
fiction editor and she probably could have told me so and to go sign up with a
nonfiction editor. No—kind, sweet, and professional Karen Ball read each of my
five prayers. She wanted to take my pages back to Tyndale House with her and I
agreed. I didn’t know the significance of her doing so. I did know I hadn’t
made any copies of them but they were in my computer, so not to worry.
Not too long after the conference, Karen phoned me that
Tyndale House Publishers would like me to write more prayers. The result was Tyndale published
two prayer books by me: Amen and Good
Morning, God (always free at http://tiny.cc/4pvi1x) and Amen and Good Night, God. Later, another company published my devotional book, His
Awesome Majesty. As I learned the craft of writing and used market guides, I submitted short stories and articles—and got them published. I’ve also
written seven sweet Southern historical romance novels and two novellas that are traditionally
published.
That Professionalism in Writing
School conference was good for me and I attended several years until the
director ended its existence. Oh, and by the way, that young lady who spilled
her books in the hotel entrance was Bodie Thoene; she and her husband Brock
were the keynote speakers for the conference. And that woman with the beautiful
Texas drawl who sat beside me in the auditorium was Vickie Phelps and is now a
close writer-friend; we’ve coauthored three nonfiction books. Our husbands also
get along well.
My first published
novels, in the endearing Caney Creek Series, are set in the Southern Appalachians of East
Tennessee where my ancestors and I were raised. I’d listened to older
generations tell their stories at family reunions about time before telephones
and automobiles. Their stories fascinated me and I wanted to write about a time
before I was born.
This Appalachian series percolated
in my mind in the late 1990s. While these stories continued to take shape, in 2001
I received a life-altering health diagnosis with a negative prognosis.
My mind was still
intact but my body wouldn’t do what it was told. My balance while walking
diminished and I quit attending writing conferences. My doctor advised me not to
drive. In 2008, I began to improve. My hands were steadier and I could get my
first Appalachian story started. I have outlived my doctor’s prognosis by seven years.
From 2001 to 2008 I had
a lot of time to meditate. A relative marvels that I’ve never questioned, “God,
why me?” I have not become bitter because of the health issues. I think God
just gave me time to understand a lot of things when I was inactive. I’m a more
peaceful, patient, and faithful me.
This writing journey is
never-ending. How could I not write? What writing ability I have comes
from God and I must be the best steward of that gift that I can be.
Very nice post as an introduction of you and your 'works'. I look forward to reading your publications.
ReplyDeleteMary, thank you. So glad you stopped by my website and left your comment. I hope you enjoy any of my works that you read.
ReplyDeleteDearest Jo, thank you so much for your kind words about our meeting. I still remember how your written prayers touched me. What a gift you have. May God continue to bless your work for Him--and wouldn't it be nice if He'd let us meet again at another conference? Hugs to you.
ReplyDeleteKaren, yes it would! Thank you for leaving your comment.
ReplyDelete