Category: books

The writing retreat

At the beginning of May, I attended a writing retreat up in the mountains of Southern California. Tahquitz Pines in Idyllwild, once a youth camp, has been refashioned into a wedding/resort destination. Its cabins, bunkhouses, and lodges still whisper echoes of Christian songs and children’s laughter.

The writing retreat is put on by the Southern California chapter of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. A small group of authors who write middle grade and young adult fiction work in critique groups to improve their stories. Two literary agents and editors give their insights as part of the groups. In addition, attendees get one on one time with one of the industry professionals. Written critiques were purchased separately and given to the writers before the retreat. Time is set aside during the three day retreat for revision and writing time.

All of this sounds like a lot of work. But there were plenty of social activities. There were team building exercises, yoga, hikes, a pizza party by the fire pits, and a game night. Some writers went into the quaint town of Idyllwild to get stronger coffee or visit the bakery.

My favorite part was hanging out with other writers. Most of them don’t live near me, and the only time I see them in person is when we have our fall conference and this retreat. Being a writer means spending time in solitude and dealing with rejection. Sharing my stories with other writers encourages me to work harder. Spending time with other writers reminds me that we are all in this together. We can celebrate our writer friends’ victories and commiserate about the slow grinding machine of publishing.

When I come down from the mountains, my vision for my writing is clearer. Revising my stories seems less daunting. My words flow like Strawberry Creek, the rushing stream that runs through Idyllwild. I am encouraged and refreshed, ready to press on.

If you are a writer, I hope you take the opportunity to go to a writing retreat. In a world full of rejection, your writing family can be the hug you desperately need.

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Plans

My life was overflowing with tasks and errands. My husband and I were looking forward to getting away on a Harley overnighter weekend with old friends. We put a new windshield on Stoker, our Harley trike. He checked the tires. We both washed it. Our overnight luggage was packed. The weather looked like it was going to be perfect.

The morning of our trip, I got up early and made breakfast. I got dressed in part of my layers for the morning chill. When it was time for my husband to wake up, he told me about his horrible headache. We had to cancel. I texted our friends to let them know not to wait for us.

If you believe in God, you’d probably remind me God is in control. His plan was for us to miss our Harley trip. I trust God with my life, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t disappointed. In that moment, I was crushed. In the Bible, Proverbs 19:21 says, “Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”

My husband and I spent a quiet weekend together. It was perfect. We watched movies and talked. His headache got better. My creativity was recharged so I could work on my new book. It was the weekend we needed, not the weekend we had planned.

When I retired from teaching almost four years ago, I thought my book would find a publisher within the first year, and I’d be busy working with editors and planning my book launch. Within the first two years, I did sign with an agent, but still waiting on my book deal. That doesn’t stop me from reading craft books, going to writers conferences, and writing new books.

I have been given the gift of writing. Part of my purpose is to nurture that gift. I write children’s books to shine a light on truth so that future generations will find their way. I have no control over the publishing industry or any timing on my writing career. Unless I self-publish, I can’t plan when my book comes out. The only thing I can do is write.

There are many aspects of our lives we can plan. We can plan where to live, whether to marry, what type of career to pursue. But there are other events we would never plan like losing a job, losing a spouse, illness, and time of our death. I want to walk confidently through the events set before me, knowing behind it all is a greater plan than I could ever understand.

And I still make plans and fill my calendar, remembering that they are only written in pencil.

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The next thing

Ever since two of my books went on submission to publishers, I have felt like I was holding my breath. I knew nothing would probably happen right away. But I still checked my email five times a day. After the first full manuscript requests, I could barely think.

Weeks passed. Months passed. When I checked the Google sheet my agent set up, I could see some rejections with comments. More submissions went out. Those full manuscripts were still out there.

A year passed. Everyone who’s been through this tells you that you should be working on your next thing. Forget about submissions. You can’t control editors and acquisition meetings. Focus on your writing. I completed a new book and took it to my critique group.

In the back of my mind, I kept telling myself I needed to keep my writing time open. When my book was sold, there would be new rounds of revisions. I would be too busy to write anything new. With my mind reeling with possibilities for my debut book, it was hard to generate any new ideas.

More months passed. Maybe my books out on submission would end up dead. I needed to work on the next thing. Before I signed with an agent, I had more patience with the traditional publishing process. It took me six books to land my agent. Somehow, I had mistakenly thought that mean my publishing dream was nearing reality.

Another month passed. Finally, I released my illusion of control over my books. New ideas are flowing. When I lose myself in my newest project, I find myself again.

A creator must create. A writer must write. And no matter what happens, I move on to the next thing.

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How far would you go for football?

My friend, Heather Butchka, has a new contemporary YA book coming this summer. If you like football and small town dramas, this book will keep you up reading past your bedtime.

Presales are going on now. Support your local indie bookstore by clicking on one of the links below.

In the cutthroat world of Texas high school football, a scandal threatens to unravel East Pages High, a powerhouse program renowned for producing champions and drawing college scouts from across the nation. As rivalries intensify and buried secrets surface, one player, his cousin, and his girlfriend must decide how far they’ll go to protect the team, their futures, and the truth. In All For The Game, loyalty and betrayal collide under the Friday night lights.

Village Well in Culver City, CA: https://bit.ly/4hdtVQE

Red Balloon Book Shop in St. Paul, MN: https://bit.ly/4hBCsgb

Elliott Bay Book Company in Seattle, WA: https://bit.ly/4jGdIFu

Skylight Books in Los Feliz, CA: https://bit.ly/4hFQDAX

McNally Jackson Books in New York, NY: https://bit.ly/4aCkGXX

BookPeople in Austin, TX: https://bit.ly/40UJSpd

Books & Books in Florida: https://bit.ly/4huzOZA

Little Shop of Stories in Decatur, GA: https://bit.ly/4hfLtfa

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The longest month of the year

Finally, we’ve reached the end of January, the longest month of the year.

This past month has been full of unplanned expenses from dental to house repairs. When I total it up, I spent more in January than I spent on Christmas gifts in December. February’s starting out strong though, with a major pool repair scheduled. As soon as I type this, I realize I should have no complaints. My house has not been destroyed by a wildfire or hurricane.

January smothered my creative productivity. My writing time was eaten up by phone calls, estimates, Home Depot runs, and bank transfers. It was difficult to find quiet moments to focus. Although we didn’t have snow storms, high winds whipped up my allergies and gave me brain fog. At night, I found little rest as my mind was burdened with my overflowing calendar entries.

I am extremely thankful to have the resources to deal with January’s problems. But I take a deep breath as I turn the calendar page. February is a month of love, remembered national heroes, and the Super Bowl. And for Southern California, refreshing rain.

Those who call ourselves writers often struggle to find time and energy for our craft. After all, there is no story without conflict. Some writers work full time jobs before coming home to take care of their families. Others are caretakers for their spouses or parents. Still others contend with their own health issues or past hurts.

But even when we have a January full of trials, we come back to our computers in February. While we still have breath, we write. Even when things fall apart around us.

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When rejection becomes inspiration

When I read the comments from an editor I respected and met during a writing retreat, I should have been discouraged. She agreed to read the full manuscript. I had high hopes. But when I opened the spreadsheet from my agent with all our submissions listed, the line with that editor was highlighted in red.

Rejected. But she gave lots of great feedback that threw light on misgivings I’d had about the story. And she was kind, acknowledging my zeal for the subject matter and my personal connection to the plot.

Suddenly, I was energized. I started back at the beginning of the story and cut out the first chapter. I smoothed out awkward dialogue and shortened description. I went deeper into my MC’s thoughts and emotions.

It’s going to take a while for me to get through the whole book, but I’m committed. Even though this is my fifth time editing it, the story is worth it. It was worth a rejection with an explanation, something I rarely get these days.

Creating a book is a collaborative effort. A rejection can sometimes be the catalyst I need.

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The quiet creative zone or what happens after you sign with an agent

For the last eight years, one of my writing goals has been to find a literary agent. Last October, in a surreal moment on my birthday, I got “the call.” Actually, in our post COVID world, it was a request for a Microsoft Teams virtual meeting.

It was really happening.

At the meeting, we talked about ourselves, our dreams, my book. Then Tia Mele made me an offer of representation. Because I still had my book out with other agents, I told her I’d get back to her after I notified them.

After I’d received prompt responses from the other agents, I made my decision. In October 2023, I became an agented author.

I went through two rounds of editing, and then Tia created a Google spreadsheet with the publishers she was sending my book to, similar to my querying spreadsheet. But my querying was done.

Now it was my agent’s turn.

After spending years researching agents, revising my query, synopsis, and pitch, it was someone else’s responsibility.

Now I was free to focus on my writing. At first, it felt weird. Like I should be doing something. In the back of my mind, I realize it’s the calm before the editing storm. But it feels good to take a breath and have more creative time.

If you’re still in the querying trenches, take heart. With a lot of hard work and a little courage, you will find the right person to champion your work.

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Happy Book Birthday to me and my friends

There is a chill in the air. Something is coming.

Change is coming.

It’s a time to celebrate. It’s a time to hide.

It’s a time to get ready for the things we don’t expect.

It’s time to open up the Autumn Breezeway.

Get your ebook or paperback now:

https://books2read.com/u/4EpjEe

Paperbacks at Amazon or Barnes and Noble:

https://www.amazon.com/Particular-Passages-Breezeway-Steve-Ruskin/dp/1628690631

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/particular-passages-steve-ruskin/1144161402

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Message in a bottle

Waiting for a query reply is like being stranded on a desert island after you’ve sent out messages in bottles. As the waves continue to crash onto the shore, you squint against the blazing sun to scan the horizon. Hoping to see the glint of a returning bottle.

Or you check your email box. Twenty times a day.

Experienced writers advise you to start a new project. Ignore the fact that somewhere, someone is looking at your synopsis and deciding whether you’ll fit into their client list. If they even read it. Waves of anxiety crash against your overconfidence. Maybe your book wasn’t ready. Maybe your critique group doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.

Maybe your voice doesn’t matter.

This world doesn’t seem friendly anymore. Social media isn’t fun when every comment you make could be used against you. All your writer friends are being published. Everyone in your family is being published, even if they’re not writers.

Even a message asking for revisions would be a victory.

All you can do is on the beach, watching the waves crash against your dreams. Then you notice a seagull creeping up on the sand. It stares at the sandwich in your hand, cocking its head back and forth. The bird hops a little closer, reminding you of that boy in sixth-grade, the one who always wolfed down the hated liverwurst sandwich Mom packed for you.

Ideas flood your mind. Jumping up, you brush off sand and head to your laptop. As you furiously type away, you can still barely hear the waves in the background. You’ll check your email box later, but for now, the magic still works.

Then a bottle washes up on the sand.

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The Squirrel on the Wire

I have sassy squirrels in my neighborhood. The past few days I’ve had to bring my border collie, Davey, inside the house in the morning because he can’t stop barking at the tiny creatures.

The homes in my block were built in the late 1940s, back in the days when trash trucks picked up your cans from a network of back alleys. These narrow roads provide the route for our electric, phone, and cable since they were put in before the days of buried lines.  

Squirrels love to use electric lines as their personal bridges between the trees in our backyards. Davey notices everything, including the furry animals passing over his head. They cause him to bark like a vicious wolf since he believes the alley and its airspace are part of our property.

This makes the squirrels bolder, as they sit directly above Davey’s head, staring at him and twitching their tails. How they manage to balance on the wire is beyond my understanding. It’s fun to watch Davey and the squirrels interact, except for the part where he’s waking up the whole neighborhood.

Davey always barks and jumps at the squirrels, even though he never can reach them. He never gets discouraged. He never gives up. Even if he never gets his teeth on one fluffy tail, he will always try.

Seeking to get my first book traditionally published is like that. Those book deals sit up on the electric wire, taunting me with their advances, book tours, and international rights. There I am, on the ground, barking to get an agent or editor’s attention. Every day I get up, check my email for requests for pages. After sending pages, I stare at my phone, waiting for the Call.

Every day is the same. The squirrels tease Davey. He barks like a wild dog. My email inbox fills with rejections. The Call never comes.

It would be easy to get discouraged. No one would blame me for giving up. But I’m inspired by my border collie’s dedication to his job. He knows what he’s born to do.  

Even if I never get my teeth on a book deal, I will always try.

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