C.A. Pettit's Blog, page 6

How to Start Living your Best Life - Part Two

If you’re like me and most of the people I meet (meaning you’re human), the odds are that every day of your life isn’t perfect. Sorry, I can’t fix that. But, if you really are like most of the people I meet, you have or at some point had ambition. In the next three posts, I’m going to guide you through some practical steps to discover, create, pursue, and achieve your goals with three steps: stop, start, and go.

In my previous post, I went over the STOP. In this post, we’ll talk about STARTing.

Now it’s time to START

You’ve changed your mindset about some things and set a specific goal to work toward. Maybe you’ve set several goals. You’re motivated, focused, and ready to get started. But how? I hate those motivational videos people post to YouTube or share on Facebook. Don’t get me wrong; I watch a lot of them. My problem isn’t what they say; it’s what they don’t say that bothers me. They play that music that makes your blood pump faster, and they say words that make you feel like you can conquer giants. Awesome, right?

No.

Can you tell me how to conquer those giants? Let’s see if we can start there. (See what I did there?)

unsplash-logoPaweł Czerwiński

Believing

Instead of hoping to become a writer, I started believing I was a writer.

I wanted to be a writer all my life. Seriously, I started talking about wanting to write books when I was seven or eight years old after I read my first chapter book by myself. (I’m a reader and a book nerd. Don’t judge me) I said, “I want to be a writer” or “I’m going to be a writer” until I was thirty. You know how many things I published in that time?

None. I didn’t even have any real writing worth sending to a publisher. So what changed?

Instead of hoping to become a writer, I started believing I was a writer. I already knew my purpose. Believe me when I say I went through a lot of prayer, meditation, research, and tears to figure out my purpose. But now I believed in my purpose. I was custom-made and hand-picked to be on this earth, during this time, to be a writer.

I began living and thinking like a writer. I immediately purchased all black clothes and started consuming ridiculous amounts of coffee. Kidding. I don’t wear that much black. But I did start incorporating writing into more of a daily routine. It took me a while to get that all figured out, but I got there. I began studying my craft to improve myself, and my writing began to get better.

Being practical

If you noticed what I said, some real practical steps were made in the last post and within what I just said. I figured out my purpose (I’ll write a post about that in the very near future), set a realistic goal, and began treating my goal seriously. Now it was more than a passion and a dream; it was my job, and I take my job very seriously.

I did some honest reflection. What do writers do? Do I do that? What is good writing? Do I write that way? What can I do to become a better writer? This wasn’t a one time thing; I reflect constantly, always thinking about how to improve.

I realized that I had raw talent but not much in the way of honed skill and knowledge in my craft. I began reading more books. I reached out to authors and got some good advice. I watched videos made by writers on how to plot, develop characters, and more. I began reading articles and blogs about the publishing industry and writing. I asked my college professors for help. I let people critique my writing and paid attention when they tore it apart. This was all happening after hours, and it was exhausting, but I knew I had to do it in order to reach my goal.

So watch the motivational video. Listen to the music or people that encourage you. That’s fine. Then, get off your butt and do some work. Quit talking about what you’ll do some day, and go do it. Either be about it, or quit talking about it.

This wasn’t a one time thing; I reflect constantly, always thinking about how to improve.

Planning

People that know me would laugh over the fact that I actually wrote the word planning, but I’m going to tell you that you need a plan. Personally, I’m a “wing it” sort of person. I do things on a whim, and I’ve learned to think on my feet and produce some better outcomes than when I plan things out to the minute. That’s fine, once you’re already operating in the field you’ve learned to operate in. You can’t try that if you don’t know what you’re doing.

I’m and English Teacher. That’s my day job as I work on building my author platform. I’m very passionate about both, and it took the same steps to get to where I am with both teaching and writing. I had to plan. I had to know which step was next and what the series of steps for the long-term were. Now that I’ve been doing the job for a couple of years, I get to wing it, but I do that with the tools of an expert.

I remember my first year of teaching. I had tried all year to help my students understand the importance of point of view in a story, news article, or anything else. The point of view is everything. Get that wrong, and your audience doesn’t get to where you’re trying to take them. My students just couldn’t get it, and we were at the end of the year.

There I was, in front of my class, with the year almost over, and someone asked me a question that mentally shut me down. I couldn’t answer it, and these students who had finally begun to trust me for all things English and many things in just general life, were staring at me. The writer in me told the teacher in me to sit down and keep his mouth shut. I went to the dry erase board with no plan, and magic happened.

I gave them the same story of a plane crash from four different perspectives; some serious and some ridiculous. I asked them what each of the characters would see and asked them to discuss it in groups. The room erupted with learning. The writer’s expert understanding of point of view had latched on to the teacher’s limited understanding of the Socratic Method of drawing from within through questioning. I then let the writer tell a story from each perspective.

When I told the story through a dog in the belly of the plane’s perspective, they laughed. When I told it through the eyes of the pilot, they were tense and fearful. When I told it through the eyes of the flight attendant on her way to get married, they were sad. When I told it through the eyes of the little boy who hadn’t spoken to his mother the entire flight, they broke down in tears. They said, “Mr. Pettit, what are you doing to us?” I looked at them and said, “showing you how important point of view is.” Their response was a unanimous roar of “OH!”

They got it.

You know what I’ve done with that lesson since that day? I’ve tweaked it and tweaked it down to a perfect lesson PLAN. New students getting that lesson understand POV on an even deeper level. My point? Get the tools first, and learn to use them.

None of that would have happened if I hadn’t had study strategies and time management skills. None of that would have happened if I hadn’t spent hours and hours deep in my craft, learning, honing, and mastering these skills. You simply cannot “wing it” into success.

Carve out time to create a success plan with practical steps. Make it a priority checklist, and stick to it. So people think I’m a “wing it” person. I’m not. Not at all.

How to Start Living your Best Life - Part One

If you’re like me and most of the people I meet (meaning you’re human), the odds are that every day of your life isn’t perfect. Sorry, I can’t fix that. But, if you really are like most of the people I meet, you have or at some point had ambition. In the next three posts, I’m going to guide you through discovering, creating, pursuing, and achieving your goals with three steps: stop, start, and go. In this first post, we’ll talk about what the STOP means.

Learn to STOP…

…so that you can GO!

It might seem counterproductive to stop before you start, but when it comes to making major changes in your life, there are some things you absolutely have to stop doing before you can ever, truly, get started. Every person has a different list of things he or she needs to stop, but let’s just take a look at three broad categories, which are:

dreamingsabotaging yourselfbeing random.

“…when it comes to making major changes in your life, there are some things you absolutely have to stop doing before you can ever, truly, get started.”

Stop dreaming

This is one of those things that we have to deal with upfront because it’s been so ingrained into our minds through western culture that we have no chance of getting anywhere until it’s fixed. You have dreams. Maybe not. Maybe you had dreams when you were younger. Everyone has or has had them.

Most of the time they’re meaningless.

That’s neither a typo or misprint. I couldn’t care less about a dream. What are your goals? What’s your mission in life? Your purpose? Oh, you don’t know? That’s probably because you’ve been dreaming. Here’s a secret: dreams happen while you’re asleep. Personally, as crazy as my dreams are, I don’t want them becoming a reality. Think about some of the wild dreams you’ve had that you wouldn’t dare tell anyone. Your “life dreams” are no different.

The funny thing about dreams is that they are usually a byproduct of all the situations in your life that bleed together, amplified by what you ate and your current level of stress. That’s why people you’re talking to in your dreams turn into purple monkeys, and you end up standing in front of a room full of people in your underwear. Your mind is trying to process a million things at once, and so it finds a framework that makes some sort of sense. That doesn’t mean it’s realistic.

“I couldn’t care less about a dream. What are your goals? What’s your mission in life? “

Example: You have a lot on your plate at work and then kids, bills, and on and on. You’re stressed out and having a late night. You eat something you shouldn’t and fall asleep. You dream that you’re a kid at work trying to pay bills, but your phone is suddenly a taco. You wake up and tell yourself it’s time for a vacation. Your mind has done its job. Thankfully, in reality, that scenario is never going to happen. I watched Top Gun as a kid and wanted to be a pilot. Suddenly I had a “dream.” In reality, I have vertigo and an astigmatism. Guess who is never going to be a pilot? Stop kidding yourself. Dreams are things that happen in your mind.

Goals, on the other hand, are something you can work toward. Sorry to break it to you, but you cannot be anything you put your mind to, and that’s actually fine. I’m never going to be a rocket scientist; I wasn’t made for that. I was designed to be the guy that writes something that inspires the rocket scientist. Goals.

Stop sabotaging yourself

Now it’s time for me to confuse you and really rock your world. Ready? You can be anything you want.

“Chad, what are you doing? You just said the opposite. You said you can’t be anything you put your mind to.”

You’re right; let me clarify.

You. Were. Designed.

That’s right. You were custom-made. You need to realize that and embrace it in order to find, unlock, and start living your true potential and best life. If you buy into the lie of evolution (macro and big bang, not micro adaptation) you will be convinced that you are a random incident. That’s a lie. You were designed by a master artist who knows what he’s doing. And just like the designer of a Rolls Royce or a Harley-Davidson, you were designed with a purpose in mind.

A Harley isn’t a mini-van. A Rolls Royce isn’t a back and forth to work kind of car. Those are both vehicles, but they were designed for something. So are you. You are here on this earth for a reason. Stop trying to make every dream you have reality and figure out your purpose. I worked in manufacturing for years, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, I wasn’t made for that life. I was miserable because I was the equivalent of a Harley being used as a mini-van. When I shifted to writing and teaching, I found passion in my work, and it came to me so much more naturally.

So, part “A” to no longer sabotaging yourself is to find your purpose, instead of thinking you can just be anything you want. That’s a lie society and culture have taught you. Society and culture are wrong. Part “B” is: once you get that figured out, don’t let anyone tell you there’s anything that can stop you from becoming what you want to be; only you can do that.

“No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t excel at it because I wasn’t designed for it.”

To put this into practical, hands-on type stuff, here’s an example: me. I was respected by people I knew when I worked in manufacturing. I was also miserable and broke. I was mediocre at my job. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t excel at it because I wasn’t designed for it. I went to school for mechanical engineering and immediately felt like the dumbest person alive. The concepts were impossible, and not because I didn’t try. I put everything I had into it; I just couldn’t get it. When I switched my major to English, people looked at me like I was vomit. Seriously, you should have seen the looks people gave me.

Not only that, people told my wife and warned me that I would burn out. People said writing doesn’t pay the bills. Being a writer is a pipe dream. We need factory workers, not writers. People showed me articles about the need for people with trades. I would nod and agree, and in my mind I would laugh because, dummy, you’re reading something a WRITER wrote! When I graduated Summa Cum Laude, no one was voicing doubts. When I got my job at a premier campus, what I was doing suddenly became respectable. When my students had some of the highest scores in the state of Texas, people “were so proud of me.” When I got my publishing contract, it was all congratulations and no doubts. My profession and path is all of a sudden relevant and needed. Weird.

*Note: I actually had a lot of support along the way. I’m simply saying that people will have negative opinions toward what you are doing. That’s fine. It’s their problem, not yours.

Don’t you dare tell me I can’t do this. No, I can’t be the math whiz. That’s okay; I’ll inspire him. I’m never going to the moon (that really is a dream of mine). That’s cool; I’ll write a story about a man, or a boy or a girl, who goes; and that story will inspire someone designed for space travel to become an astronaut. Get out of my way because, now that I know my purpose, I can be anything I want.

Stop being so random

This has mainly been covered, but let’s get even more practical. No one ever reached a goal that wasn’t set. No one ever made it to a finish line that wasn’t visible. You don’t get in your car and start driving in any direction to get to work or the grocery store. No, you have a clear path, and you travel it.

Figure out what you want to do, and commit. Write it down. Tape it to your mirror so it’s the first thing you see in the morning. Make it your background or screensaver on your phone and computer. Make it your tagline on your Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and whatever else you have.

Be specific. Stop dreaming. Wake up. Set a goal, and go after it.

Alright, that’s a lot to chew on for now. In Part Two, I’ll talk to you about the things you need to start doing. First, you have some homework. I want you to spend some time thinking and praying about what your purpose is. If you know what your purpose is, and you’re convinced but getting nowhere, I want you to do some reflecting and evaluating. Is this “purpose” of yours a fit with your design, or is it a phone that’s suddenly a taco? If it fits your design, but you’re getting nowhere, ask yourself if you know what your specific goal is. If you don’t know, it’s time to start figuring that out.

“Fate of the Watchman” Cover Reveal Scavenger Hunt and Giveaway

Welcome to the “Fate of the Watchman” Cover Reveal Scavenger Hunt! You have arrived at stop #9, the final stop!. If this was your first stop, you'll want to go to stop #1.

Join the scavenger hunt to see the full cover of Chad Pettit's “Fate of the Watchman” and also look for clues to win a $10 Barnes and Noble egiftcard and a free digital pre-release ebook of “Fate of the Watchman”!

Please take time to carefully read the details below.

The hunt began August 30, 2018, at Reading is My Superpower and ends on September 7, 2018, at my site site where I am revealing the cover for my book! There are 9 stops on this scavenger hunt, and you will find a CLUE IN RED at each stop. Write them down as you go. At the end of the hunt, you will unscramble and enter the clues into the giveaway entry form. The giveaway will remain open until September 9, 11:59pm EST. Winner is subject to eligibility verification and will be notified within 24 hours of the giveaway ending and has 48 hours to respond before alternate winner is selected. No purchase is necessary and this promotion is in no way sponsored, endorsed or administered by, or associated with Instagram or Facebook.

Are you ready? 

 

 

 

You Sure? 

 

 

 

Here it is!

 

WHY DID I WRITE THIS BOOK?

You've read the synopsis, but I wanted to share with you why I wrote this book.

I felt a lot of apathy in myself (and frankly still do) for the world around me, and I saw a lot apathy in the church. It doesn't take long to look around and see tragedy all around us, but we've become so accustomed to homelessness, violence, poverty, immorality, and sin that we almost don't notice anymore. Even when we become aware of it, what are we doing about it? I wanted to challenge myself, and I also wanted to challenge others to look outside themselves. 

Another burden was for the persecuted church around the world. There are so many followers of Christ suffering for His name's sake. While I understand that persecution is a part of Christianity, we should not be indifferent to imprisonment, torture, or the brutal attacks on individuals and churches that take place daily. While writing this book, I had a unique experience, which I discuss in another blog post, "The Magazine." That decision led me to pledge 50% of my royalties to The Voice of the Martyrs, a ministry serving the persecuted church in over 60 countries.

“Fate of the Watchman” is a novella that releases on October 1, 2018, and will be followed by my second, full-length, novel “Fate of the Redeemed” {release date TBD}.

Go here to pre-order your copy today!WHO AM I?

I grew up in Oregon with books and the mountains to help my imagination grow. After high school, I spent ten years in the Army, traveling and deploying all over the world, including two combat tours in Iraq. After the military, I earned a Bachelor of Arts in English from Texas A&M University-Central Texas, and then I started teaching English at an early college high school in Central Texas. I currently serve in a local church as a deacon and the Sunday School Superintendent.

Follow my publisher and me for more updates on my novels! Details below:

For more information about Chad Pettit & “Fate of the Watchman” please visit:

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For more information about Ambassador International please visit:

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Thanks so much for stopping by my site and participating in the “Fate of the Watchman” Cover Reveal Scavenger Hunt and Giveaway. Don't forget to write down the clue: !?” Click the box below to enter the giveaway!

This is the last stop. If you've arrived here first, you'll want to go to the other stops so that you can collect the clues! Don't worry, I've got you covered. 

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A Bathroom, a Penny, and a Magazine Part Five

This is part four of a blog series. If you haven't read parts one-three, start here to catch up!

The Tweet that Changed my Life

You know how you say things, but you don't really mean it in a literal sense?

Some of these things are just customs, colloquialisms, and figures of speech. For example, you tell someone you're going to talk to them later, but you know you won't see them or talk to them for several days or ever. One of my favorite sayings that we toss around is "God can use anything he wants to do his work." We usually say that when we're trying to encourage a person experiencing doubt. We don't always mean anything!

Imagine my surprise, then, when the Lord decided to use an email from my uncle and a tweet to launch my traditional publishing career!

I've got the cart out in front of the horse. Let me back you up to a few months ago. Like I've said in previous posts, I've been working on Fate of the Watchman for a while. Years. Still, even after several revisions, even after getting the manuscript to a place where I was not willing to make anymore changes, I wasn't comfortable with it. It's out of the box for me. Can I just say it? It's an odd story, one that I'm deeply passionate about, but it's very unique. I was sure that no one would publish it.

It's a novella, and most publishers want novels.It's, like I said, strange. I experimented with the style of prose and the way I introduce the chapters. I think it's the way it should be written, but it flies in the face of everything I've learned about the writing craft. My writing career isn't exactly the most successful. I'm a nobody, speaking in terms of online presence. How am I going to generate enough interest from an agent or publisher to get an offer?

So, I'd pretty much resolved to self-publish this book. I believe in the story, and I want it available to people. I figure, if the Lord wanted me to write it, he'll get it in the hands of the people that need it the most. That's where I was. Even after all the Lord had shown and done up to that point, that's where my mind was. Kind of discouraging, huh?

Let me rewind to about two years ago when I saw my uncle for the first time in well over a decade and closer to two decades. Somehow, we got on the subject of writing, and I found out that he's a writer. How I never knew that is beyond me. We talked for hours and have since established a regular back and forth communication through email. It's been great. Well, one day he emailed me something from Writer's Digest about this thing called #FaithPitch.

I'd pretty much resolved to self-publish this book.

I think I actually shrugged when I read it and thought, not for me. Pitch parties on Twitter are new to me, but they've been around for a little while. Basically, to find hidden talent without dealing with the inevitable slush pile, publishers and literary agents have taken to Twitter to allow writers to "pitch" their manuscripts during a specific period using hashtags. You have one tweet, combined with the hashtag for the particular pitch party and the hashtags for your genres, to pitch your book. 

Right away, I saw MUST HAVE COMPLETED MANUSCRIPT and thought of Fate. Yeah, it was finished, but refer to my reasons for not trying to get it published above. That all went through my mind right away, great man of faith that I am. I sent him a reply, thanking him for letting me know, and said I might try for the one later in the year with the book I was working on (that book is a mess, by the way, with one completed draft and about a year of revision that needs to happen before another pair of human eyes ever see it). 

As it got closer to #FaithPitch, I mentioned it to my wife. She asked me if I was going to participate, and I basically gave her what I already wrote here. We went through this a couple times over a couple of days. I guess she got tired of hearing me put myself and my work down, so she decided to be her typical self and challenge me at my faith. She said, "why don't you just try it and see what happens?"

TIMEOUT!

Keep in mind, I've never submitted a manuscript to a publisher or agent. I've had poems published and dealt with plenty of rejections on that end, but I've never even attempted with a book. I'm the one writer, or at least one of the few you know who's never had a manuscript rejected. Why? I never even tried. I self-published my first two books for the same reasons I gave earlier. 

TIME IN!

I thought about what my wife was saying, grumbled a response to her while giving her one of my mental "why don't you try it" responses in a 5 year old voice and forgot about it. Tried to, anyway. It ate at me, just like it did when she told me it was like I was forgetting I was a Christian all those years ago in that bathroom. 

You ever love someone and want them to not talk anymore because they're right and you're like, really wrong? Yeah. That's where I was.

So, I went for it. I spent a day, every free chance I could, crafting my tweets, getting my four ready because the rules said you could post a maximum of four pitches (tweets). The day came, and I saw all of the agents and editors giving their instructions for if they hit the "heart" button on your tweet, which is similar to the "like" button on Facebook. I saw people posting their tweets, and I was instantly discouraged. Even if none of those authors can write a book, they can sure craft an engaging tweet!

You ever love someone and want them to not talk anymore because they're right and you're like, really wrong? Yeah. That's where I was.

There were hearts everywhere, man! My literal heart beating like a full drum line, I took the plunge and tweeted my first pitch. I then calmly stepped away from Twitter and refused to look again. No need to be desperate, after all.  

I assume you know that's not true. Man, I checked that feed every two seconds! I refreshed my screen so much I thought my phone was going to die from abuse. Forever went by, or an hour. Such things as time are trivial when you're losing your mind. Just saying. 

And then it happened. I got a heart. As in, a like. As in, for my tweet. As in, someone liked my pitch. Her name: Daphne Self, author and acquisitions editor with Ambassador International. I might have dropped my phone. I don't know. Definitely a blur. I hurried through the feed and her profile to find her instructions. She wanted a DM, so I sent her one, and it was the most awkward, guaranteed to get you blocked on Twitter kind of message ever written. 

A few hours later, Daphne replied and told me she had contacted the CEO and COO and to submit my manuscript and query letter.

What. Is. A. Query Letter?

OK, I knew what a query letter was, but I'd never written one, and I surely didn't have one ready to submit. Enter anxiety attack. Cue the clueless writer with fourteen Google tabs open and copious amounts of coffee. (I should mention that I was responsible and did some research on the publisher before going any further, but I obviously liked what I saw, which is sort of implied.)  

About an hour and a half, maybe two hours later, I had a manuscript and query letter ready to be sent. Did I mention I've never submitted a book proposal before? I had no time to do any of the stuff all the "experts" were telling me to do on their blogs. I couldn't ask anyone else to review what I had. I finally held back a little vomit and hit the submit button. I got an email from the President, which I assumed was canned, saying that my manuscript was under review. Whatever. Done. Go to sleep.

That was on a Thursday afternoon. Friday, my wife asked me if I'd heard anything from the publisher. Expert that I was, I informed my wife that the review process could take weeks and maybe months. These are busy people, and I'm a nobody. Plus, they're going to see that it's a novella and immediately reject it. If they do get past the word length, they'll see the unique prose and the premise and send me a "Nice try, but no" rejection. If they do, by some miracle, like the story, I'll be finished once they see how small my social media presence is. 

How blessed my wife is to have a highly educated idiot to straighten her out on such things. :)

Fast forward to Monday. I'm doing what every "expert" says to do once you've submitted your manuscript. I was working on my next book. My phone went off, but I didn't check it. Why? I knew. Don't ask me how, but I knew it was from the publisher. I decided to finish writing and check it later because that monster of doubt stood up and reminded me that I'm not good enough. It was a rejection. It just had to be. 

Fifteen minutes later, and I couldn't take it anymore. I checked my phone. Sure enough, the sender said publisher, and the subject line was the title of my book. I opened it, preparing for that gut-wrenching feeling when your work gets rejected. It never came. The email was from the C.E.O. of Ambassador International, Dr. Sam Lowry. He had personally read the manuscript...over the weekend! He told me that he found it engaging and challenging and had interest in publishing. 

I. Fell. On. The. Floor. 

The next day, I received a contract offer for Fate of the Watchman. Just like that, and I'm less than two months away from being a traditionally published author! Not only that, it's nothing like I thought it would be. Everyone at Ambassador is so down to earth. Everyone is so helpful; it's like being a part of a family. All of a sudden I'm hosting Facebook Live events and meeting up with fellow author, Allen Stedham. My claim to being a writer is suddenly legitimized. One of the most popular Christian Book Reviewers is helping me find and engage with my audience. My life has been changed. By a tweet?

No, by the God that put a blog post on my Uncle's radar. By the God who used my wife's simple as it gets faith. By the God who wanted to show the world that he doesn't need the traditional route to make his children shine. He can use whatever he wants to do his work.

Fate of the Watchman will be released in early October. Stay tuned for the upcoming cover reveal! You can learn more about Ambassador International and its amazing authors here.

A Bathroom, a Penny, and a Magazine Part Four

This is part four of a blog series. If you haven't read parts one-three, start here to catch up!

The Magazine

It took Michelangelo four years to paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling. It took America's top scientists and engineers almost a decade to get a man on the moon (or a secret location near White Sands for my conspiracy theory peeps). It took Noah decades, maybe more than a Century, to build the ark. 

My point? Not everything is done overnight. Some things are built over a lifetime, and that's what makes them worth it. All great things, though, seem to have a breakthrough moment, a time when the vision is clear and the purpose begins to drive the vision. 

I wrote the first draft of Fate of the Watchman in my Sophomore or Junior year of high school. It wasn't called that then. I can't remember what it was called, but it was a short story with the same basic premise. I wrote a modified version sometime later, and that story just sat for nearly two decades. Fast forward to the time in my life when I was fully committed to the Lord and fully committed to writing, and I remembered that story world.

"All great things, though, seem to have a breakthrough moment, a time when the vision is clear and the purpose begins to drive the vision." 

I thought, why not take that world and turn it into a story that matches what I want to write, now? I had no idea what my writing voice was or who I was as a writer. Oh sure, I knew what I wanted to be, but I was all over the place with my craft. So, I sat down and wrote a short story in one sitting called "The Midnight Cry." (The title changed later, for many reasons) It felt good to write again. When I got done, I shut my computer and forgot about that story for the next few years while I wrote about all kinds of things and produced zero publishable work.

That time wasn't wasted. I spent every free minute learning, practicing, and honing the craft of writing. I wasn't in a perfect place, nor will I ever be, but I had found my voice. That's when the Lord reminded me of "The Midnight Cry."

And so, I went to work on revising it, cringing my way through a re-reading of my novice attempt at words with structure and stuff. Yeah, it was scary. During my break from that story, I had learned some things about myself:

I'm an outliner. Sorry, I just can't do the seat-of-the-pants writing thing. So...I went to work forming an outline that had an actual plot!I have a message, a purpose. MY WHY.So...I thought and prayed about the best way to communicate that through the story world and characters of this story.

I wrote a new draft, hated it, and put it away to work on new projects. Inevitably, I had to come back to it. I realized it was one of the characters that was bothering me, along with some very lifeless prose. I wrote a new draft, almost entirely from scratch, hated it, and put it away to work on new projects. 

And then, I had that breakthrough moment. 

I regularly get a magazine in the mail from the Voice of the Martyrs ministry. It is always a difficult read because it shows the absolute struggle of the persecuted church around the world in over 60 countries. (You can subscribe to this free newsletter here) It hurts, and it's hard to read. Well, I got an issue in the mail, but I never read it. I thought about how terrible that was of me at one point, and I decided it would be perfect to add to one of the characters in my story: a guy that has willfully ignored the struggle of those around him. 

"I finally got myself together and opened it up."

I actually wrote an entire scene with that thought in mind, along with some specific mentions of the character having a subscription to the same magazine but never reading them when they come to him in the mail. I wanted the scene to be something that really showed the reality of persecution, and I wanted the reader to be convicted enough to get involved through prayer, missions, or by monetary donations. Something. The scene is gut wrenching, and it was very difficult to write. It was emotionally draining.

Then irony introduced itself and slapped some conviction into me. I had that issue of The Voice of the Martyrs sitting on my nightstand or dresser for about two months, and I had never even cracked the first page open. I finally got myself together and opened it up. Imagine my horror when I randomly opened the magazine to a page and not only saw pictures similar to what I had just written but read a story that eerily matched the scene I had created. Obviously, the circumstances were different, but I had basically told the story of the people in the article, even though I had never read, or even seen, the article!

My conviction was immediate. Remorse, repentance, guilt, shame. It all hit me like a flood. It was actually more like an under toe, sucking me out to see with no chance for escape. I was devastated, and I could only weep. OK, weep sounds like I was sitting on my couch with some tears and a tissue all Hollywood style. 

No. 

I broke down like a truck that just got fixed by a blind mechanic. I cried so hard that I had permanent ugly cry face. My wife had no idea what was going on, so I tried to explain it to her through my convulsions and sobs (while not giving spoilers to the story). In that moment, I vowed that if I ever published the story, I would donate half of what I make to The Voice of the Martyrs ministries. 

Now that it's actually going to be published (which is a story all by itself that I will tell in Part 5), I stand by that vow. I recently reached out to VOM to tell them my intentions, and they are thankful for the support. So, just know that if you purchase a copy of Fate of the Watchman, you will be giving in support of persecuted Christians around the world. 

So, I didn't write this story in one sitting, even though several of the "drafts" were written that way. I wrote this story over the course of a lifetime. In this book, I have included scenes that can only be depicted through the lens of memory. It is the most challenging thing I have ever written. I have stopped and started several times because of the emotional and spiritual battle I faced while writing it. I feel like it took a significant chunk out of me, a chunk I am finally content to have sacrificed. 

In Part five, I'll tell the story of how an email from my uncle and a single tweet launched this book into my first-ever publishing contract with a traditional publisher of Christian fiction.

Fate of the Watchman will be released in October. If you would like to learn more about The Voice of the Martyrs ministry, or if you would like to donate or pledge to pray for a VOM worker, you can visit their website here.  

Photo by Kaboompics .com from Pexels

A Bathroom, a Penny, and a Magazine Part Three

This is part three of a blog series. If you haven't read parts one or two, start here to catch up!

The Penny

Imagine being aboard a ship at sea, mere miles from the coastline, but lost in darkness and a storm. Imagine, further, that you are searching, helplessly but hopelessly through the storm for a lone light in the thick wall of blackness. 

A lighthouse. A beacon to guide you ashore, to help you not only find the shore, but navigate the treacherous rocks or sandbars that would run you aground and leave you forsaken and forgotten upon those merciless waters. 

I was, figuratively, that one. I stared through trial after trial, but there was no light. Until that is, I found Bryan Davis, as I wrote about in my previous post. His words were a beacon, and I began to slowly and carefully follow it to shore, to a place where I could feel the freedom and faith Christ had given me but that had been drowned in a sea of troubles. 

The beacon came in the form of emails. First, as previously stated, he encouraged me to write and gave me Biblical proof that I was doing nothing wrong. Next, he gave me some resources: writing videos and his testimony. I've already established what my life was like during that time, but allow me to pain the picture of the context in which I watched/listened to those videos:

I was a machinist. I worked twelve hour shifts in a factory, mostly alone. I was in school, full time. I would leave my twelve hour shift, drive over half an hour, and then sit in developmental math classes for 3 1/2 hours. After that, I would drive nearly an hour home, shower, eat, do a ton of homework, sleep maybe two hours, and repeat.I had spent about seven years working toward what I thought God wanted me to do, only to have it all come crashing down on me when I had finally achieved some success, so now I was questioning my purpose and was truly wondering if God was done with me.

Back to the story.

I would turn on one of the videos while I was at work, put my headphones in, and listen to them. I couldn't watch (seriously, I was working), but listening was great, and it was the only time I could. They were very informative, and I learned a lot about writing through them. Then, I came to the last video, his testimony. It's amazing, and I encourage everyone to watch and listen. (You can watch it here, towards the end of the video, but the whole thing is awesome) During this, he speaks about having trouble coming up with the plot and purpose of one of his books in the Dragons in our Midst series.

He says that he began finding a dime and two pennies everywhere. He and his wife found them, paired that way: on running trails, outside their house, under a lamp in an airport parking lot, and all over the place. This went on for months, and he had been asking God what it was about. Clearly, this wasn't coincidence. A dime here or there? Sure. A couple of pennies? Sure. But a dime and two pennies, always together and always in their path? Seriously? Coincidence? No.

He then realized that anyone can be in the ten, but to be the one that stands out against the odds takes courage. It takes faith. It was, he saw, just like Joshua and Caleb in the book of Numbers. The rest of their party came back from the Promised Land with a wicked report, casting doubt on the rest of the nation. Joshua and Caleb trusted the Lord and encouraged them to go and conquer the land. The message for Mr. Davis: don't be the ten. Have faith. Be one of the few who stand up to the crowd. And that was it. He wrote the book, and he came to a place where he fully trusted in the Lord to guide his stories.

Amazing, right?

So, there I was, sweeping the floor and listening to that message and hearing him talk about his true purpose. I look down, and I see it.

A penny.

Not just any penny, either. I bent down, picked it up, and inspected it. The mint date was 1980, the year I was born. Now, you might be skeptical, but I know the Lord put that penny there, and He put it there for me. I didn't fully understand it then, but I knew one thing for sure. I was not washed up, finished. There was still a plan for me. I was hand-crafted by the same God that molded the universe, which meant that I had a purpose. I was born with a purpose, and though I wandered and took years to trust the Lord as my Savior, spent years toiling away at something He never designed me to be, He hadn't given up on me. 

He saw what I was going through. That moment told me that much of what I had been through had been on purpose. I was being shaped, molded for greatness. Not my greatness but His great plan and purpose. I still carry that penny, and many times since then, when I begin to doubt my purpose, I have found another one in the most unlikely places. 1980. A hand-stitched writer was born. It took several decades to break that writer in and fill him with a story worth telling, but it was worth it. 

Suddenly, every trial had meaning. Every emotional scar became the hand print of God. So, to return to my illustration of a beacon guiding lost ships to the shore. While the words of Mr. Davis became a beacon during my dark time, the penny was almost like a clearing of the skies. The storms didn't seem so violent; they were living portraits on my canvas. The darkness could no longer convince me that it would last forever because the light of the Lamb was no longer hidden by my lack of faith and out shined the blackness of night. 

The penny brought me home. When I arrived at the "shore," I was free. I was ready to continue the journey I was supposed to have been on all the while, and I embraced my time on the lonely sea as just a leg of that epic trek. And it was in those early days of freedom that I sat down to write what would become Fate of the Watchman. 

That's another story, one I'll tell on my next blog post. Make sure to sign up for my email list, so that you can find out as soon as I publish the next post and get a free, weekly devotion. Sign up here.

A Bathroom, a Penny, and a Magazine - Part Two

Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS from Pexels

A Dark Place

How much doubt can one person have?

If you don't know the answer, let me save you some trouble: it's a lot. When I made the decision to go in full pursuit of a writing career, every doubt imaginable assaulted me. Doubts about my writing ability and my ability to balance work and school were the easy ones. At the time, I was going through a major shaking of my faith, and those doubts were crippling.

Up to a certain point (about six months or so before that fateful bathroom decision) I had been spending years in preparation for one thing: to pastor a church, and it looked like that door might be starting to open one day, when I was asked to do something special by a person I looked up to and admired. When the day came, it was heaven sent. It was sweet. It was a terrible day, a day my dream came to an untimely death.

I'll keep the details to myself. The point is, it was a moment I'd waited for. (To prevent anyone's mind from wandering, there was nothing immoral or inappropriate, just a really bad day). After that day, which still kind of haunts me, I went to a dark place in my mind. I lost faith in just about everything and everyone. I remember being so depressed, at one point, that I could barely push the buttons on the machines I used at work. I doubted the Bible, everything I had ever heard preached or preached myself, and I surely doubted God. 

"...it was heaven sent. It was sweet. It was a terrible day, a day my dream came to an untimely death."

It was during this time that the events of the previous post took place, and so I had even more doubts and fears to deal with.

Years ago, when I started down the ill-advised path of extreme fundamentalism, I tossed out all of my books and formed the belief that all fiction was evil.That's problematic when you decide to dedicate your life to writing fiction. Now I was faced with the dilemma of whether or not it was wicked for me to write the things I wanted to write.Not only did I want to write fiction; I wanted to write fantasy fiction. 

I had been dealing with this depressive quest for truth for months, feeling more and more trapped, when I started scouring the internet for the various beliefs about whether or not Christians should read and write fantasy stories. Why was I scouring the internet? Well, as typical of a person trapped in a legalistic form of religion, I couldn't find anything in the Bible against it, but I kept hearing how "all those books are wicked and of the devil." Aware that there was a conflict here, I was trying to find  answers.

All I found was a fight that just keeps tearing people apart. It's the never-ending system of rules that keeps everyone from (God forbid) enjoying their salvation. Not God's rules. Man's. We fear man, but we ought to fear God. I digress. Anyway, the internet was just full of vitriolic hatred being spewed back and forth. About to give up, I typed in my last search, hoping to find someone like myself to see if they had gained the wisdom I was looking for.

And that's when I found it: a Facebook group dedicated to Christian fantasy authors. NO WAY! There it was, plain as day. I read every post with fervor, and I was looking forward to connecting with these people (in secret, obviously). And then the last nail in the coffin was driven home. The page was dead. Every one of those posts was at least two years old, there were only a few posts, and no one was active in the group anymore. About to give up and resign to the truth that I had made a mistake in changing my major, that I was chasing a pipe dream and needed to move on, I saw a link. 

"He was lighting a beacon of hope on the shores of an ocean of depression that had kept me out to sea for far too long."

The link was to a man named Bryan Davis, and he is a Christian Fantasy Author. I followed the link, read his story, and found what I'd been looking for. Here was a man that had gone through something similar and asked the same questions. Thinking this was another cruel joke Fate was playing on me, I emailed him and asked him some of my questions. He replied that day! He encouraged me, told me that there was nothing wicked about what I wanted to do, and then provided me with some resources to help me get started. 

I'm almost ashamed to admit to the amount of crying that took place during that year of my life, but it happened, and there's no point acting like it didn't. I cried when I read that email because I wasn't alone. I also cried because I knew that God really was moving the chess pieces in my life. Mr. Davis thought he was answering an email. No, he was talking me off the ledge, the ledge that led to a life of oppressed dreams and mediocrity. He was lighting a beacon of hope on the shores of an ocean of depression that had kept me out to sea for far too long. 

And, all of a sudden, I was free. I didn't have to chisel away at my doubts anymore because God was melting them away. My wife admonishing me in the bathroom, and now this two paragraph email filled with an epic tale of hope, pulled me out of the darkness. That should have been enough, too, but the Lord was far from done. He was showing me his true power and my true purpose. Which is where the "penny" portion of this post's title comes into the picture.

That, however, is a story that deserves its own post, so I'll leave you with this cliffhanger. Don't fret for the beleaguered hero of this story, though, for he is coming to a great land filled with great promise.

If you would like to learn more about Bryan Davis and his inspiring books, please look him up:

Website: http://www.daviscrossing.com/

Facebook: @BryanDavis.Fans

A Bathroom, a Penny, and a Magazine

The Bathroom

What's the longest amount of time you've spent crying?

I can't remember exactly how long my longest was, but I can clearly remember how long I cried the day I realized that I was stuck in a life that I never wanted but had managed to create for myself: 45 minutes. That's how long it took me to drive home from the night class for Intro to Hydraulics I was taking.

I was about three weeks into my first semester of my Mechanical Engineering degree, and I knew there was no way I was going to make it. I didn't understand the math, the science, or the point. Why was I trying to get a degree in Mechanical Engineering? I was a CNC Machinist at the time, and I thought it was the most practical and profitable route to take. 

I hated the thought. 

"Since I was seven, I've wanted to be a writer."

Since I was seven, I've wanted to be a writer. I always thought it would be amazing to teach people how to write while I wrote my own novels, poems, and anything else I could or would write. Life kicked that dream around, and I let it, effectively curling into a ball on the ground with my arms around my head. 

The night in question, I sat in my hydraulics class, lost. As the professor went through a problem on the board, about ten minutes into class, I dropped my pen, sat back, and fought back the tears. "Why, God, have you done this to me?" Right, like it was God's fault. I needed to lay the blame somewhere, and my shoulders were weighed too far down already. When class was over, I threw my bag in my truck and made the drive home through a wall of tears. 

My wife and I had a routine back then. We would go through the house together, tidying up, shutting off lights, etc. That night, much later, we were in the bathroom, shutting off the lights, wiping the counter, and we had been talking about all of this. My wife asked me what I wanted to do, and I repeated the tired: "I want to write" phrase for the millionth time.

I then went through my nightly routine of knocking myself down. I was good at it, and still am, to be honest. I told her I'd never be good enough to make it as a writer and that this degree would probably be worthless, if I ever did get it. But, I said with false bravado and a quivering voice, I'll get it. Somehow, I'll make it through, and I'll hate it. I'll hate this career and the next, but my dream doesn't matter. 

"I then went through my nightly routine of knocking myself down."

And then my wife broke me.

She looked me dead in the face and said: "It's like you're forgetting you're a Christian." That was it. That was the end of the conversation. I was too stunned to say anything else, but I didn't sleep well that night. The next morning, I woke up, got dressed, and drove the forty-five minutes to the school. That day I changed my major to English.

As I sat in the student lounge afterwards, I watched all of the younger students, unafraid and ignorant of the world. I decided then that I wanted to inspire people. It's no longer about writing books or poems; for me, it's about changing lives through the gifts God has given me. A couple of weeks later, I wrote the first draft of Fate of the Watchman, which will be released by Ambassador International sometime in the next year. 

The bathroom. My life was changed, forever, in the bathroom. Are you, spiritually, in the bathroom, just like I was? For some, their life is metaphorically in the toilet, but that's not what I mean. I'm talking about a place of decision. I can't tell you what path to take, but I can encourage you to never forget who you are. I can encourage you to walk God's path, rather than lock yourself into a prison of your own making.  

Life didn't all of a sudden become easy. I still had to take developmental classes and do all the math and science required for even English majors, but I got through it. I can't even keep a straight face long enough to tell you that your path will be easy. In fact, if you plan on walking with God, the exact opposite is probably true. Just remember, everyone faces challenges, but not everyone faces them with the Lord beside them.

Years later, I still remember that trip to the bathroom. In Part Two, I'll discuss how a single penny gave me the courage to not only walk but run this race.