Leya Delray's Blog, page 6

Project Update – The End of the Beginning

The End.

In the overflowing silence that lingered beyond the last notes of music, I felt the magnitude of those two words bubbling up inside of me. They filled my senses. Overwhelming. Breathtaking. Like the feeling you get when you stumble upon some secret place of wonder. Not a bustling tourist trap full of noise and cameras and t-shirt vendors, but a secluded masterpiece, something to enjoy all alone in the silence. Something far too special to whoop and holler and dance around about.

So instead I just sat there, letting the feeling linger and swell, until it spilled over and breathed out of me in an awed whisper, more for myself than for anyone else listening:

“I finished the book.”

After two and a half years of research, writing, more research, rewriting, and what seemed like endless rabbit hole-wanderings looking for important but evasive details, Lily and Freddie’s story was complete.

(And yes, those of you who follow my Facebook page were probably expecting this blog post on Saturday. I was planning to get it out then, but I was so busy working on updates for my website that I ran out of time. Better late than never though, right?)

One great side-benefit of my exhausting NaNoWriMo marathon experience in November, was that I figured out the way I like to write. Slowly, artistically, savoring each sentence and polishing it to perfection. And that is how I decided to write this final chapter.

I sat in the living-room, near the big windows, in my favorite chair. I used my [image error]new noise-blocking headphones, which allowed me to give Lily and Fred my undivided attention as we experienced this last, special moment together. And for my sound-track, I knew there was only one choice that would do. The song Fred used to always say belonged to him and Lily.

Begin the Beguine.

I let the song play over and over again as I wrote, feeling the music carry me away, back to an era that I have become so familiar with in the past few years, I almost feel as if I once lived there myself.  Back to a little house in Florida, where two people shared a love big enough to span an ocean, and strong enough to last a lifetime.

It was a sacred place to tread.

And though of course I had no way of timing how the song would play out, it seemed almost natural that as my hands fell still at the end of the final sentence, the last notes of the song died away and the music fell silent as well.

The end of the song.

The end of the story.

And the beginning of a whole new journey.

Because you know, often that magical, awe-inspiring place you come to in your wanderings is only the pathway to another journey. And as any writer can tell you, “finishing the book” is the not he same as being finished with the project. [image error]Now comes the editing, the proof-reading, the formatting, the cover design. And all of that has to happen before you truly have a finished book to put into the hands of your readers.

But I’m excited. Because although there is still plenty of work to do, I feel that the greatest challenge is now behind me. I have taken the family stories, the fragments of history, the dates and the times and the memories, and stitched them all together into one tapestry. It is done. There have been plenty of moments, along the way, when I struggled. When I doubted I could really do this. When I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I’m so glad, looking back, that this book the Lord gave me to write was not something I just thought up myself, but had a life outside of my pen. A real life, that was filled with meaning for so many people who remembered Lily and Freddie, and wanted to see their story written down.

Why is that important? Because there were times that, if this had been just my own project, I’m pretty certain I would have given up entirely. There were times I  wasn’t having fun. When I was exhausted, discouraged, and ready to throw in the towel. Then I would remind myself that I knew the Lord had given me this task to complete, that He was helping me along in the process, and that He would give me what I needed to accomplish it.

But sometimes, even that wasn’t enough. Sometimes I was so frazzled, burned out, and sick of the whole thing, that I was ready to convince myself it really was my own project, that the Lord wasn’t really interested in it, and that it wouldn’t be[image error] a big deal if I just gave up.

But there was always one last life-line to grab when that happened. When I’d almost talked myself into believing that it wouldn’t really matter if I dropped it. That’s when I would raise my head, throw my shoulders back, and think to myself,

“No. I can’t stop now. I promised Sharon.”

So thank you Sharon (and Susan) for being the reason I still kept going even when nothing else would have done it. Because I knew that even if the story didn’t matter to me (at that particular dark moment) and even if it didn’t matter to God (which of course it did, but sometimes I doubted it), it always, always mattered to you.

And now I’ve accomplished a project that has taken me longer than anything else (other than schooling) that I’ve ever attempted. Because of that, I know I can do it again. With another story. Even if the next one I write really does just come out of my own pen. I’ll know I can see it to completion, even if it takes 3 years next time. (Though I sure hope it won’t.)

I’ve done it once. So it can’t be impossible.

Thank you both.

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If you’re as excited about this book as I am, don’t forget to subscribe! That way you’ll be the first to know when the book is available for pre-order, and have access to special, insider discounts!

Did you know Lily and Fred personally? Comment below! I’d love to hear how they touched your life.

I’ve Been Shorted!

I love looking at Christmas lights.

But I DON’T love to chew on them.

Apparently though, not everyone shares my preferences.

(“Wait!” You are thinking. “Hold on now, Leya. Why are you writing a Christmas post now? It’s January for crying out loud! Aren’t you a little late?” Well no. Actually I’m not. But we’ll get to that later.)

We use white Christmas lights at our house. Simply plug in a couple of extension next to the door, and the night comes sparkling to life. Tiny specks of light glimmer along every porch rail, twinkle over the outline of the roof, and mark the path all the way down to the lake. Once there, they circle the edge of the dock and glisten in rippling reflection on the glassy surface of the water.

Or at least, that’s what they were supposed to do.

But we got a new dog this year.

He’d been abandoned near our house as a puppy this past summer, and one mournful look from his adorable brown eyes convinced us to become his new family. Nobody warned us at the time that he had a fetish for electric cords. So we were quite startled when he shorted out half our [image error]Christmas light display.

Wow, thanks. Talk about gratitude.

He’s too cute to be mad at though. And really, that’s not such a big deal right? A little duct tape, some rearranging, a new extension cord, and everything will be dandy. But what if you found out somebody had shorted you out of more than a few bulbs and cords? What if, instead of shorting you on Christmas lights, they’d gone and shorted you on Christmas itself?

Well here’s a news-flash:

Somebody DID.

You see, the commercialized Christmas we’re accustomed to as made us believe that Christmas is a twenty-four hour affair. Oh sure, it’s proceeded by a month or more of frantic shopping, decorating, and preparation, but it’s all really just leading up to one day. One. Single. Day. And on that day you try to squeeze in every conceivable Christmas tradition you possibly can. [image error]If you have young kids they drag you out of bed at ridiculous hours, so everybody is sleep-deprived. Then, you probably eat pretty much pure sugar for breakfast (we have Christmas cookies and hot chocolate). The kids are on a sugar high, running around kicking boxes and wrapping paper in all directions, until they have a corresponding sugar crash and are now in melt-down from the excitement and lack of nutrition and sleep. Cards with Christmas money in them get lost in bags of cast-off wrappings being taken out to the trash, so you’re frantically digging through the garbage searching for that hundred dollar check from Aunt Peggy. The kids look at you half-way through the afternoon, sitting in a pile of presents, and have the audacity to tell you that they are bored. Somebody steps on the dog by accident. You’re trying to cram in Christmas dinner and a Christmas movie and Christmas carols and whatever other Christmas things you are determined to get done. The house is a total wreck. Somebody trips over an empty box and spills eggnog all over your brand new blue-tooth speaker, and by the time it gets to be about 8pm you are all ready to fall into bed from exhaustion. Probably you don’t do it though. You stay up, because it’s Christmas, and just accept the fact that you will be a zombie at work tomorrow.

[image error]Then tomorrow comes. And life goes back to normal. Everything is being cleaned up, put away, thrown away, eaten, or whatever needs to be done with it. Weeks and weeks of preparation, and then BAM! One day of celebration and it’s all over. Christmas is finished.

Or…is it?

Remember that ridiculously long and repetitive Christmas song? The one that you only sing when you’ve been out caroling way to long and you’ve run out of ideas and just want to go home and warm up already?

“On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…”

Yep. That one.

Well guess what? ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ It’s not just a repetitive song nobody can remember all the verses too. It’s actually a window into a kind of Christmas celebration that we in America have almost forgotten about. It hearkens back to when Christmas wasn’t just a single exhausting day of celebration topping off weeks and weeks of commercialized chaos. Back then, a lot more people remembered what it was we are actually celebrating, and the department stores hadn’t weighed in yet.

Here’s how Christmas used to go:

For four Sundays before Christmas you had Advent. It was a quieter, more [image error]solemn season. Not a time of feasting and partying, but of prayer, preparation,  remembrance and anticipation. (Some of you might be familiar with advent wreaths, etc.). This was the lead-up. Vaguely similar to how we still spend a month or so preparing for Christmas. But also quite different, since it was focused much more on the true meaning of Christmas, and everybody had a much better idea Who we were actually getting ready to celebrate.

Then came the party.

Which STARTED on December 25th. Started. Not ended. What we think of as “Christmas day” actually was just the beginning of a twelve-day celebration full of feasting, caroling, gift-giving, parties, etc, etc, etc. Remember the old Christmas song telling how “Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the feast of Stephen…”? Well, the feast of Stephen is one of the twelve days of Christmas, specially dedicated to the memory of the first Christian martyr, and often a time for giving to the poor. Wow. Suddenly that song actually makes sense!

Each of the twelve days has it’s own special associations in different cultures, but the main point is that back then, however it was you celebrated, you did it for twelve days. TWELVE WHOLE DAYS. Can you imagine how much fun that would be? A celebration that lasted almost two weeks? Forget about feeling stressed out trying to crowd everything in. You could do caroling one day, a Christmas movie a different day, special meals spread throughout. Even present-opening could stretch out over twelve days instead of doing it all at once and getting an exhausted let-down afterward. Just open one present, really enjoy it, and anticipate the next one tomorrow. (Not to mention, can you imagine how much mo[image error]ney you could save buying gifts after December 25th instead of before? All those after-Christmas sales just became during –Christmas sales! Yay!) There’s plenty of time to do different kinds of Christmas baking. You don’t have to eat everything sweet at once, you’ve got twelve days to visit family and friends. Just think of it! How much more restful and fun would the holiday be if you had twelve days to enjoy it?

I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty annoyed with whoever it was that decided Christmas ended when you woke up December 26th. All my life that seemed like such a bummer! You prepare and prepare, the whole month long, and then it’s all over in one day??? Come on.

Well it turns out, I was right to be bummed. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be! For hundreds and hundreds of years, people got twelve whole days of Christmas. I SHOULD feel shorted for only having one!

And I’ve decided not to put up with it anymore. I was complaining to a friend about how much I disliked only celebrating one day of Christmas, and wished we celebrated all twelve. And guess what he said?

“Then do something about it.”

Ummmm….

At the time I gave him excuses. “I can’t tell my whole family how to celebrate Christmas. I can’t get off work for twelve whole days. I can’t….blah blah blah.” But I realized afterward, he was right. So I went to my family and I said, “Hey. Anybody else want to celebrate for twelve days instead of one?”

Turns out, it was pretty much unanimous.

So the decorations stayed up, the lights stayed on, the Christmas music kept playing. [image error]And we even watched my favorite Christmas movie (The Nativity Story) which we didn’t get a chance to do before Christmas. We watched it January 3rd.

And it didn’t feel one bit late.

We’re already planning all sorts of new traditions for next year, and I can hardly wait. But for now, it’s just about time to close out this Christmas season.

Depending on how to count to twelve days, Christmas either ends January 5th (at night) or January 6th (before the sun sets). Today is January 6th, so I’m counting it. It’s also the feast of Epiphany, which remembers the arrival of the wise men with their gifts. Hmmm. Maybe we should exchange gifts January 6th next year…

Well anyway. Now I think you understand why I said this post is most certainly NOT late. I hope I’ve inspired all of you to take a little more time to celebrate one of the most momentous events in human history. I mean seriously. One solitary day of festivities might make sense if we were really only celebrating a mythical, red-coated old geezer and some flying reindeer. But think about it! The eternal, all powerful Maker of the universe puts on human flesh and is born as a baby in a stable so that He can grow up in this sin-stained world and die to redeem it…and we throw Him a party once a year for twenty-four hours?

Come on.

So… Merry Christmas everybody! And I hope you’re all having a very happy New Year!

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Have you ever celebrated the twelve days of Christmas? Or do you think you might try it next year? What are your traditions? Comment below! I need all the ideas I can get!

 

Project Update – NaNoWriMo Aftermath

Aftermath.

Yep. That’s the word. Like when some life-altering cataclysm hits, and you wake up lying in the dirt, blinking numbly around at the altered landscape and wondering what just happened.

That’s how it felt to wobble up out of my writing cave once December finally arrived. I know it’s been an outrageously long time since I last posted, but I was so exhausted after NaNoWriMo that I just didn’t want to type another word for at least a couple of weeks. I had a serious case of burn-out.

Why?

Well, here’s roughly how the month went…

Week 1: Due to social obligations I couldn’t get out of, I only wrote about four out of the seven days that week. Story flow felt very slow. I never seemed to quite get “into the zone”, but I still enjoyed myself. Spent a lot of time editing as I went along and looking up tiny details every time I hit a hole in my research, but since I enjoy research, that was fun too. Checked my word-count at the end of the week and realized I’d come in way below the 12,000 I needed to average per week to reach 50,000 by the end of the month. Told myself not to worry. I still had plenty of time to catch up.

Week 2: No social events to distract me. A lot more time to write. Tried to steer clear of the endless rabbit hole my research tends to become, and simply made notes in the next where I needed to fill in more info later. Consistently went to bed an hour early so could get up and write before breakfast, which is when I[image error] seemed to get the most done. Still edited a lot as I went, but stopped reading over (and re-editing) everything I’d written the day before when I began a new writing session.  Still had fun. Increased my word-count by about 3,000, but was still below the weekly average, and certainly had not made up for the first week. Started to get a little nervous, and told myself I better figure out how to type faster or write for longer periods. Or both.

Week 3: Threw my shoulders back, set my jaw, and determined to hit a 12,000 word minimum. Eliminated all extraneous research and stopped doing any editing except for polishing up the final paragraph from my last writing session (to warm me up) when I started the next one. Everything else I just left as is, with only minor grammar corrections as I went along. Gave up my exercise routine to leave more writing time. Started to feel like I had no life outside of a keyboard, but figured I could take that for a couple of weeks just fine. Exceeded weekly goal by 3,000 words. Gave myself a pat on the back and tried not to worry about the fact that the final week included Thanksgiving and a trip to Florida.

Week 4: Annoyed family members by insisting on writing at least 1000 words before I would speak to anyone or come out of my room in the morning, even on Thanksgiving day. Stopped editing all together. Wrote for 7-8 grueling hours straight on the drive home, with music blaring in my headphones to (partially) drown out the 5 other people in the vehicle. Decided I was definitely putting some  noise-blocking headphones on my Christmas list. Began to get so worn out that [image error]I had trouble remembering what exactly I meant to do with certain threads of the story. Problem-solving skills were seriously deteriorating. Was NOT having fun anymore. Felt more like a word-generating machine than an inspired story-crafter.

November 29th: Took a slight break from my grueling routine to write at least one important scene the way I LIKE to write. Slowly, deliberately, editing as I went and enjoying the sculpting of words. Then took a deep breath and dove back in to cranking out words at high speed, determined to meet the deadline.

November 30th: Up by six. Wrote before breakfast, during lunch break, and after work while waiting for my ride. Went home, wanted to kiss a certain family member who offered to make dinner for me. Wrote until time to eat. Wrote after dinner. Wrote past bedtime and into the dark silent hours of the night. Kept on, watching the clock tick toward midnight until, in the final hour between 11pm and 12pm, I was so tired that I sometimes realized I’d been staring at the screen blankly for several minutes without knowing I’d stopped writing. Finally banged out the last words to cross my 120,000 word goal for the book about 15 minutes before December hit, and collapsed into bed feeling like a zombie. I’m pretty certain the last few thousand words were utter gibberish.[image error]The next day I announced on Facebook that I’d met my 50,000 word goal. And technically, I did. But it turned out to not be nearly as clear a “win” as I was hoping for.

You see, somewhere along the way I confused my 50,000 word NaNoWriMo goal with my TOTAL 120,000 word goal for the book. At the beginning of the month I calculated that if I wrote 50,000 words, I would pass my manuscript goal and possibly finish the first draft. But at some point, I got those switched around.

I assumed if I hit 120,000, it would conversely mean I had also written 50,000 in November. That would have been true IF I’d started with 70,000 at the beginning of the month. But I didn’t. I started at about 71,000. So I needed to pass 121,000 in order to have actually written 50,000 in November. Had I figured that out a few days earlier, I could have found a way to squeeze out another thousand some where along the way. But it was too late.

So. All that desperate, half-dead writing, those final groggy hours, that numb, [image error]exhausted crawl over the finish line…only to find out it wasn’t actually the finish line.

Talk about a bummer.

Disappointed, I went back and added up the words in a of a couple of scenes I’d written and then decided not to use. I hadn’t deleted them, just marked them as “unused” in the writing software, which kept them from being added to the final word count. They totaled 800 words all together. Which meant I was 200 — yes, a measly two hundred — words short of 71,000.

Grrrrr.

Of course, with all the other words I wrote and then deleted (sometimes whole paragraphs) during heavy editing early on, I’m sure I actually DID write the extra 200 words. But they still aren’t listed in the final word count. So after all those grueling, miserable hours banging out words there at the end, I can’t even feel like a total success.

Final summery?

Ugh.

I never, Ever, EVER, want to do that again.

I may set a lower, more comfortable goal for next year’s NaNoWriMo, but I don’t think the 50,000 is a good fit for me. Why?

Well, because I learned something valuable about myself and my writing style this November. Turns out, I LOVE editing. Some people say you should just spit the words out on the page, get the basic story down, and worry about the editing somewhere down the road. I always sort of thought that was the “ideal” way to write, and that I should really push myself to do it that way. But you know what? I figured out why I never have. It’s because I hate it.

Turns out, what I really enjoy is the crafting of the story. The playing with words, the shaping of beautiful phrases, the carving and the molding of each sentence until it says exactly what I wanted it to. That’s when it becomes art. Editing isn’t [image error]a drag, holding me back from my creative process. Editing IS my creative process. And when I try to skip it, forcing out an uninterrupted stream of raw narrative, I’m miserable. I don’t feel like a wordsmith, skillfully crafting a tapestry of sentences and paragraphs. I feel like a nauseous typewriter vomiting words onto a page.

Bleck!

So, did I get a lot of words written last month? Yep. Did nearly finish the first draft of Lily and Fred’s story? Yep. Did I learn a lot about the value of discipline in a writing schedule? Yep. Did I discover important things myself as a writer? Yep. Am I still relatively glad I did it? Yep. But do I have any plans to set another 50,000 word goal for next November?

Not a chance.

So there you have it everyone. The long-promised (and long-winded) blog post is at an end. Merry Christmas to every one of you! I doubt if I’ll be doing much writing before January. I’m going to be enjoying the holiday season (and the lack of looming deadlines) for at least another week or two. I’ll be spending time with family and friends, singing carols, and remembering the One who’s arrival filled the sky with a heavenly chorus, brought wise men seeking a promised king, and marked the great turning point in mankind’s history.

“For unto us a child is born, and to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government, and of peace, there will be no end…The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.”          – Isaiah 9:6-7

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