Category: Faith

Are You A Rebel Reader?

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Banned book week was October 1-7. Although I’m a bit late, here are some of the top banned/challenged books of the last decade.

  1. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
  2. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
  3. 1984 by George Orwell
  4. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
  5. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
  6. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
  7. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
  8. Animal Farm by George Orwell
  9. The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
  10. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
  11. Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling
  12. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
  13. The Color Purple by Alice Walker
  14. Beloved by Toni Morrison
  15. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey
  16. The Lord of the Flies by William Golding
  17. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
  18. The Awakening by Kate Chopin
  19. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
  20. Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
  21. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie
  22. Captain Underpants (series) by Dav Pilkey
  23. Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher
  24. Looking for Alaska by John Green
  25. George by Alex Gino
  26. And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell
  27. Drama by Raina Telgemeier
  28. Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James

How many of these have you read? I’ve only read 6. I’m obviously under-read in most of the classics. Some of them I don’t enjoy them because, well, I’m shallow like that. Lol! Also, with all the new books available, I usually forget to go back and read the classics, and I won’t read books with unhappy endings. (I’m talking to you, Looking for Alaska!)

Although I’m conservative, and I don’t like smut, I don’t approve of book banning for two reasons.

1. Books provide a marketplace of ideas. You don’t have to approve of every book’s message or worldview, but you can’t dialogue intelligently about a book you’ve never read. In the past, I’ve had conversations go like this.

Them: “Book X is terrible, just terrible. Why, it should be banned!”

Me: “Have you read it?”

Them: “Well, no! Of course not. It’s trash.”

Me: “Then how do you know?”

Them: “Well, I heard from my sister’s husband’s cousin three times removed that it’s just full of garbage.”

Me: Blinks. Waits. Moves on.

Some of the “questionable” books I read were trash, but I could talk intelligently about WHY I wouldn’t recommend the book to others. There were others I loved, and I couldn’t understand why someone would prevent another from enjoying the story (the Harry Potter series is a case in point).

2. Who decides what gets to be banned/removed? Who’s the gatekeeper? What if they don’t hold the same views you do? I have a book in my possession that I read as often as possible. It’s also one of the most banned books of all time—the Bible. The thought of someone taking away my right to read it (or any book) upsets me because it’s an infringement on freedom.

I remember an interesting conversation when I worked as a librarian. I was talking to an acquaintance whose son I went to school with. She was part of a group that wanted to put brown wrappers on all the Cosmo covers and/or put the magazines behind the counter so children wouldn’t see them. They weren’t asking for banning per se, but a “limiting” of material. When I said I didn’t agree with her, she lost it and began yelling at me in the children’s reading area of the library. I’ve never forgotten how ugly she became when I voiced a view different from hers.

Of the banned books I’ve read, I thoroughly enjoyed the Harry Potter series, The Great Gatsby, and To Kill A Mockingbird. Earlier this year, I picked up 1984 at a used book sale, and I plan to read it soon (even though I know the ending. It helps if I can prepare myself. : -)  ) What banned books were your favorite? Which titles do you plan to read or have already read this year?

Let me know in the comments!

Waiting…in the Wilderness

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The wilderness can be unpleasant (no water, no GPS, no path, no toilet paper. I like my creature comforts. Just sayin.’). A Biblical wilderness is similar. Jesus was tested in the wilderness, the Israelites wandered in the wilderness (for 40 freaking years!), and Elijah escaped into the wilderness to die. For the last year, instead of wandering, I’ve been waiting in a landscape of rejection as I try to understand in what direction God wants me to go. Self publishing? Small press? Agents to pitch my work to the “Big Four” (which includes Penguin Random House, HarperCollins, Simon & Schuster, and Hachette)?

I’d submitted several stories and my most current manuscript with no takers. When I received anything at all, it was a rejection. Very nice rejections, but it was still a no, thank you.  (I still appreciate a response of any kind since some agents are now responding to queries by ghosting.) I began wondering–maybe this was it for me. A three-book series and several short stories were more than I’d expected when I started out. Don’t be greedy, I told myself.

This waiting isn’t writer’s block. The stories keep coming. I’ve plotted three retellings, as well as three books for an urban fantasy series. Despite the recent rejections, or maybe because of them,  I struggled with self-doubt and the pressure to “write more fast.” The message to every writer out there is to produce more books as quickly as possible so your readers don’t forget about you. Just a bit hard when we’ve been dealing with events like graduation, a family member’s death, and an upcoming surgery–all within the same month.

I hadn’t taken into consideration the time or energy needed for my child’s major surgery. We’d reserved the hotel room, attended all the pre-op appointments, and completed the necessary tests. We were ready. I took my laptop with me (I thought I’d be able to write in the waiting room. *cue hysterical laughter*) On a Friday,  my husband and I camped out in the hospital waiting room, sat on uncomfortable chairs, drank subpar tea, and ate too-salty pretzels. For six hours. She came through surgery fine, and we drove home four days later. At home, we rounded up comfortable pillows and blankets, and charted medication to help her with pain management. (One of the most stressful/painful things is watching your child struggle with pain despite your best efforts.) She’ll be fully “recovered” in 12 weeks. In hindsight, I see how God didn’t want me to focus on querying and writing when my daughter needed my focus. After all, my kids are growing up and plan to move out (despite the promise I extracted from them both when they were six years old to never leave. Lol!)

Things are slowly returning to a new “normal” as I set up a routine that doesn’t coincide with a school district schedule. I’ve found a peace with where I am. The wilderness doesn’t always have to be horrible. I’m discovering it can be a place of renewal.

Have you ever had a season in your life that was difficult, isolating, or that failed to make sense to you? How did you handle it?  I’d love to hear about it.

Guest post: How I Lost My Writing

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Hi,
Today on Jilligan’s Island, we welcome Julia Skinner from the Lit Aflame blog. She’s got a great writer’s testimony, so without further ado…..
Welcome!
—————————————————-

Today, I am here to tell you the tale of how I lost my writing. Yes, yes, I know, surprising, right?  But tis true, I lost control of my writing quite a few years ago. Though the losing has glitched in and out through the time (which means my rebellious side tried to takeover from time to time).

See, I didn’t always write.

I know, unspeakable!  Incomprehensible! But nonetheless true.

It was some years ago when brilliance struck me (it does happen sometimes y’know), I had a brand-new tablet PLUS an awesome story in my head = why not write it down?!  (I’m a genius).

So I did or I began to, and PEOPLE!  Do you know how incredibly slow and hard and horribly uncomfortable it is to write a story on a handheld tablet?

Dreadful, I tell you. (Fine, it wasn’t that bad).

Happy me started writing the beautiful story in my head when a huge catastrophic portal opened up, sucking everything into it and plunging us into utter darkness, despair, and a world with no ice cream.

Which goes to say, something wasn’t right.  Sure, I loved my story, I enjoyed seeing it down on the screen, I couldn’t wait to get further into the story, and was already dreaming of people reading it.

The problem?

I wasn’t fulfilling my purpose in life.

What is my life’s purpose?

To bring glory to God.

So when God pointed out to me that my current story did absolutely ZERO to bring glory to Him, I tried to ignore at first, but there’s only so much ignoring you can do before you gotta pull out the big guns.-

– Aka excuses.  (who here knows that excuses don’t work on God?)

“This isn’t a big deal, I’m just writing a little story, it’s not some life changing thing”

*******excuses. . . more excuses. . . excuses upon excuses******

All the while God patiently told me, “Give Me your writing”

At last I broke,  tossed my excuses out the window, and said, “FINE.  If you want my writing here it is. I give it to you, Lord.”

HUZZAH!

In that very moment, I lost control of my writing. Actually, I gave control over to God – and am I ever so thankful I did.  Because you know, I don’t think I would be writing the WIP (work in progress) I am if I hadn’t, not to mention life would be a great bit more unhappy — a great wad of my writing would be stuck between me and my Savior, and my flesh’s control issues would only be growing worse.

Of course it didn’t end there.

God wanted my writing, He got it, so since He owns my writing…..then shouldn’t I write FOR HIM? (see the verse, 1 Cor. 10:31 above)

Well, yeah.

So I’m sure you can already guess, I lost the story, too.  More like I gave it up, that thing didn’t bring glory to Jesus at all.  Sure, I considered trying to find a way to push and shove some of the plot around to fit in some sort of something that could point to Christ. But that’s not how it should be, God shouldn’t just be stuffed into the story like that, rather He should come first and the story come next — because remember, my first purpose as a Christian is to bring Him glory — so always in everything, God comes first!

So that story was scrapped, thrown off in some corner. Yes, it hurt to let it go, but you know what?  Dear writer, you haven’t the faintest idea of the joy of writing until you write something that revolves around Jesus and brings glory to God.

I will admit, one of my objections was no one would want to read something like that, if I wrote it in a way that would bring glory to God, but that just showed where my priorities were: they were focused on writing a story the world would like reading.  It was then I decided I was going to get my priorities off of writing for the world and onto writing for God.

My current WIP is Fantasy, but in whatever genre you write, Fantasy, Dystopian, etc, you can still point to Jesus — even without outright screaming it.  There is a way to write purely with a message that brings glory to God.

So that’s why I write the sort of stories I write, ones I hope point to Jesus, because I am a Christian, and God has called me to write for Him.


Who do you write for?

 

Meet the Writer:

Julia is a 15-year-old born again Christian who believes if the Bible says it it’s true, and a Bookworm who knows words have the power to change the world.   She juggles her small business, writing, and college while living on a farm in Texas with her parents, seven siblings and a ton of animals
Her goal in all she does is to bring glory to God and to live a life lit aflame for Christ.  She hopes to encourage others to do the same.

 

 

A Late Bloomer

I’ve been away from my blog for too long. So, I felt perhaps this post might be a good way to say hello, and to tell you what I’ve been doing lately.

I went for a walk today. The warm sun, the cool breeze, puffy clouds in the sky which brought rain later on—it was the perfect fall morning. We don’t see too many of them like that here in central Pennsylvania.

On my way back home, I cut through a wooded area. It’s been cleaned up, so there’s no underbrush, just spongy moss, some early fallen leaves, and wild chicory underfoot. A flash of white caught my eye. It was a daisy, petal perfect with a sunny yellow center. It was alone among the toadstools that show up every fall. I couldn’t resist picking it, then looking for its brothers or sisters. Finally, I saw a handful clustered around a big tree. These few daisies were late bloomers. Like me.

Usually, the term “late bloomer” refers to puberty, but I’m referring to my “blooming” in another area — the publishing arena. I began writing in 1995, right after I married my husband. The following years produced three Christian romance novels (unpublished), two children, and one jewelry design business. After my last child was born, I began to write more widely—poems, essays, and a YA portal fantasy. When I tally up my writing time, it took seventeen years to become a published novelist. I don’t regret any part of my journey because God put me where I needed to be, when I needed to be there.

So if you’re struggling and wondering if you should give it all up, ask yourself a few important questions:

  • How much do you enjoy your writing? Could you stop at any time and be happy? Because if you could, you probably should. This profession is difficult, and you have to love it.
  • Are you writing to become rich and famous? If that’s your goal, you need to rethink your career path. Most writers don’t get paid much. J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan are the exception, rather than the rule.
  • How long are you willing to work at your craft? If you feel you should be published a year or two after starting, you’ll be disappointed. You can never stop learning, and it takes time to learn the rules. Most of us have “paid our dues,” a period of time which may last for years. There’s no room for entitlement in this career.

Those questions didn’t scare you off? You’re still here? Great! I pray God blesses your journey. Early, mid-, or late bloomers, we all have a story to tell. I can’t wait to read yours.

Bowling A Strike

bowling-ball
Last weekend, our family of four went bowling. Our kids had never been (yes, they’re sheltered). It had been a long time since I had gone, too, like twenty years long. Although I expected to be rusty, I’d only need a few warm-up throws.

Things didn’t start out well. I couldn’t find the right ball. My two kids and my hubby had each picked a ball and were waiting for me, but I was still in the back . . . looking. This wasn’t a color problem. This was a no-upper-body-strength problem. Many of the balls were too heavy for this weakling. All of the light balls had very tiny finger holes, as if they expected a house-elf to drop by to bowl a few games. My first frame was played with an eleven pounder—gutter balls galore. After searching some more, I found an eight pound ball. That seemed better, better as in my–arm-can-support-this-ball-without-it-killing-me-tomorrow.

After a second scoreless frame, I was worried, but tried desperately to hide it. I’m a very competitive person. If I’m not doing well when we’re playing (during any activity, board game, sporting event, Wii game), then I’m not having fun. This sets a lousy example for my kids. This time, I was determined to have fun even if I lost, darn it. I was being a Good Example and building character. (Nobody told me I’d still be building character as an adult; I don’t like it any better now than I did when I was young.)

By the fourth frame, everyone had scored except me. I kept a smile firmly planted on my face, even while throwing gutter ball after gutter ball. The kids offered hugs. My husband offered advice. His tips worked in the second throw of the fourth frame. I finally scored, by knocking over one pin. Everyone cheered, like I had bowled a strike.
So, I had all the kinks worked out, right? Um, no, not even a little. I didn’t score again until the eighth frame and finished the game with a stellar score of 53. (And in case you were wondering, both my ten-year-old and sixteen-year-old newbie kids beat me).

While we were playing, I mentally reviewed what I needed to do and what a good approach looked like, but I couldn’t make my body do it. The hand-eye coordination was missing (as were many other things). So, I simplified. I gave up on an approach and concentrated on throwing the ball in a straight line. My kids were having fun, so I tried not to let losing bother me. It wasn’t too hard to do. Both of them picked up the technique pretty well. And by the time the game was halfway through, I settled into a lovely little bubble of defeated helplessness.

While reflecting on the experience, I realized this was a lot like Life. We know what we want it to look like. Most of us make grand plans for it, especially when we’re young and starting out. Some of us even plan for contingencies with a Plan A, Plan B, Plan C . . . But then things go wrong. Whether we planned well or not, we’re left with unexpected difficulties. Sickness, divorce, debt, and other troubles—gutter balls, if you will. We scramble to make the outside look good. We smile and say we’re fine while things fall apart. Defeated helplessness and worry sets in. Maybe we should simplify. Start praying. Enjoy the things that are going well. Admit the troubles, rather than hide them. Listen to the advice from the people who love you. Take the offered hugs. Pray some more. Then pray with others. It’s surprising the number of people willing to help, if we only become transparent.

This transparency is hard. It makes you feel vulnerable, especially if you’ve spent a long time trying to make things look good. But do you really want to spend your energy trying to hide the gutter balls? Or do you want to work with others and let others love you, so you can finally bowl a strike?