Pamela King Cable's Blog, page 13

What Do You Hold Back As A Writer?

One of my favorite quotes, a quote I often recite when speaking to groups of writers, is the quote by Dorothy Allison from the New York Times Book Review, Sunday, June 28, 1994: She said, "Everything I know, everything I put in my fiction, will hurt someone somewhere as surely as it will comfort and enlighten someone else. What then is my responsibility? What am I to restrain? What am I to fear and alter-my own nakedness or the grief of the reader? I want my stories to be so good they are unforgettable; to make my ideas live and my own terrors real for people I will never meet. It is a completely amoral writer's lust. If we begin to agree that some ideas are too dangerous, too bad to invite inside our heads, then we stop the storyteller completely. We silence everyone who would tell us something that might be painful in our vulnerable moments."

I remember being told that God doesn't just tickle our ears with sweet scriptures. I have reasoned that God not only reveals Himself through miracles, but also through our realities. What is real. What we know.

As a writer, I decided a long time ago that whether or not it sounds like something a "Christian" would write, I would write what is real. I would be a fearless writer. Come what may.

My characters are not all God-serving men and women. They don't all live within the sheltered walls of christian schools, homes, and they don't all spend their weekends at choir practice or church socials. They don't say "shoot" when they mean, "shit." They're real. They have a voice, and I won't betray that, any more than I would betray the voice of an evangelist. My stories and novels are not written for the Christian audience, but my message of faith is clear. I like to think that I roll the camera, recording the scene exactly they way the characters react and speak.

Life is messy, gritty, dirty, and dark. But out of that comes pin-pricks of light and hope.

I feel like a pioneer of sorts. I can't write any other way. There is no condemnation heaped upon my shoulders, and yet I'm quite sure the message of love and redemption is apparent, to the point it jumps off the page and pierces the reader's heart.

Wishy-washy? Compromising? Some might think so, I suppose. I prefer to think of it as a double-edged sword. It cuts quick, before you know you even know you're bleeding. I think the world is ready for reality-based writing. For somebody to write stories off the straight and narrow, and yet never losing sight of the truth and the way.

A bit too open-minded for some, maybe, but I like to think God made me this way. He's just been waiting to see what I do with it. Televenge will be available to the public in October. A novel not for the faint of heart.

And like Dorothy Allison ... I held nothing back.

Blessings to you and yours.

Pez Dispensers Full of Antidepressants

Sometimes I think being a writer during this time of flux in the industry is enough to drive most of us to carrying around Pez dispensers full of antidepressants.

I wonder how Eudora Welty would react if her publicist (if she even had one) told her to learn how to Twitter. Do you think William Faulkner would spend an hour a day on Facebook? I doubt if many of great writers of the last century worried over book tours, book festivals, and book returns. They turned in their manuscripts, and were off to writing their next novel.

My, how things have changed.

The publishing industry has gone through so many changes, I wonder if it even recognizes itself. The number of experts offering me words of wisdom pop up in my email every day. You have to weed through them. Find the ones that need pulling, and take time on the few that spark your interest. Most of the time I delete them.

I would like nothing more than to bury myself in a good book, sit in the library for a whole day, and develop characters and scenes just for the fun of it. Writers don't have those by-gone luxuries anymore.

I'm getting ready for the upcoming promotion surrounding my novel, the book signings, the speaking engagements, and the traveling involved. And really, I don't mind it. I enjoy meeting my readers, getting inside their heads, finding out what they're reading these days. Connecting. Writers have to connect with their readers more often than they used to. Technology demands that we do.

E books can be read overnight. Stories are shorter. Reviews are plastered over the Internet so readers can make intelligent choices. It's enough to give Margaret Mitchell a migraine. I'm not sure the writers of yesteryear would know how to handle it. I wonder if they'd embrace it, or give up in the midst of such fierce competition.

I'm in the midst of a countdown. There are lists of preparation. Each month before the novel is released to the public, the writer, publisher, and publicist have their work cut out for them. I'm about six months out from pub date, and every day my list grows longer. Even though I have a great team behind me, my list remains long and detailed.

I don't have a Pez dispenser full of antidepressants, but I am considering increasing my coffee intake.

Blessings to you and yours.

Have You Earned Your Social Media Merit Badge?

How many of us sit at our computers and decide we're going to take over the world with social media? We're going to blog every day. Set aside time for tweeting. Dive into the depths of our Facebook account. Build our writing platform come Hell or High Water!

And then you look up from your desk and it's already noon and you've got to get something out of the freezer for dinner; fold the clothes in the dryer before they wrinkle; talk to your mother who complains you never call her, and run to the store for eggs and toilet paper. Before you know it, it's time for the kids to come home, or the dog has escaped and your neighbor is calling you to get Barney out of his flowerbeds.

Or maybe the warm spring air is calling you outside, and you notice how awful your own flowerbeds look from the winter, so you dust off your garden tools and dig up a few weeds. Before you know it, it's time to pull dinner out of the oven, eat, clean up the kitchen, on and on ... and there's always that novel on your bedside table staring at you. The one you fall asleep reading five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

The next morning brings new resolutions, or pretty much the same ones you made the day before as you sit at your computer, staring at your list of things to do you should've tackled the day before.

Come on. Admit it. How many of us really want to spend time on Facebook, Twitter, Linked-In and all the other sights designed to suck time away from us. How does one successfully find the excitement in it? The feeling of accomplishment? All while knowing we need to start the next book, outline, research, edit, and query? I think maybe it's that we use time as an excuse. Think? The fact of the matter is ... we really don't want to do it. So the question becomes, what can we do to make ourselves want to spend the time tweeting? Facebooking? Caring about every Linked-In email that plugs up our Inbox?

Sure, sure ... we've heard it all before ... it's something we have to do to be successful. So you wonder how many tweets are sincere and how many are working toward their Tweetie Bird Merit badges? "How many followers/friends do you have?" Na-na-na-na na, na.

I'm finding too many people whose lives are wrapped around their Facebook account, when really, they desperately need to mow their dang yard, play with their kids, bake a pie for their sick neighbor. There's got to be line drawn somewhere in all this. Any ideas?

Blessings to you and yours.

There's a Price to Pay for Your Memories

They say when you're born, you begin to die. Not something we want to think about. But I sat at the funeral of my ex-mother-in-law last Friday and thought about that very fact.

I was close to this amazing woman. She was a mother to me in so many, many ways. I knew her from the time I was eight, married her youngest, and spent most of my young adult life at her feet. She was my spiritual mentor in my youth. So many memories ...

I think Martha and I talked long into the night on countless occasions, about God and church and Heaven and family ... I was Ruth and she was my Naomi. Your people shall be my people and your God, my God. Well. Anyway, I can still smell her pies baking in her yellow stove. Smell the coffee and bacon frying in her old and dated kitchen; and if I try hard enough, I can still taste the roast beef Sunday dinners. The hot air on a summer night, eating ice cream from the Dariette, sitting out under that old shade tree in her backyard. Feeling the wind in the breezeway, the sinking mattress in the old spare bed in the back room, hearing the sound of the trucks at night on the highway. Precious memories, how they linger.

I washed more loads of clothes and diapers with Mom than a body has a right to. That ancient wringer washer, hoo-boy, I wouldn't take a million dollars for that memory. Totin' loads upstairs and out to the miles of clothesline that zig-zagged across the backyard by Dad's shop.

I still have dreams about that old homestead. Who wouldn't? My entire youth is tied up in that place. But, ah, time heals wounds, and for that we should all be grateful. Unconditional love is the thread that binds this family. I'm more than thankful for it.

We're all going to miss her. God is so good to fill in those cavernous gaps and put the joy we so desperately need at this time into our hearts. Yes, it is a very sad time, but it is a tremendous time of celebration. A circle unbroken.

Martha was 89. She raised five children, (six, including me) and influenced her nine grandchildren in ways I never knew until the funeral this past Friday. It was a crazy week of
family and friends and laughter mixed in with the tears.

And then, yesterday, my dear, sweet current mother-in-law, ends up in the hospital. So, we are on another wait-and-see, moment-by-moment, stand-by-the-phone kind of thing. Bobbie Sue is a real sweetheart, as well as a true Southern broad. I'm sure she's giving those nurses plenty to laugh about.

All of this has made me think about the passage of time, and how quickly we can go from a little girl in pig-tails, to a wrinkled woman in a nursing home. But for those of us who believe in the promise of Heaven ... it's just a little easier to take when it's over.

So I've been away from my computer for a week. It's good to be back.

Blessings to you and yours.

Does Your Pastor Wear An Armani Suit?

Bravo to the comment left as a result of my previous post. Bravo! Tithing and giving can be looked at in many different ways. For me, giving to a down-and-out family across the street is doing God's work. Giving to the "Because I am a Girl" program is also the hand of God reaching out. Giving to the poor and the homeless, toys and coats for kids, any reputable charity -- in my humble opinion, is the mark of a Christian.

You don't do it for recognition, but for love and compassion for your fellow man. That, my friend, is following in the footsteps of true Christianity.

I think many evangelicals have lost their focus of what it means to give. We've become so wrapped up in believing that God wants His people to have the best, that we forget Christ lived and dwelt among the poor and the destitute. I'm not saying it's wrong to have nice things, and I don't have a problem with sitting in a pretty church, but I do have a problem when it becomes the focus of a church to make sure their pastor lives in the lap of luxury. I have a problem with pastors who wear designer clothes when the majority of his congregation can barely feed their kids!

I realize there are churches claiming to be good stewards with their money. I'm sure they'd be happy to let you see where their money is spent. Many congregations where I lived in the south, were extended family to their members, loving them and taking care of their needs during a family crisis. Church families can be a beautiful thing to have as part of your life.

But when you're hounded week after week to give your 10% and your love offering so that He will pour out His blessings upon you! -- It makes me wonder. TV preachers and marathon praise-and-worshippers know exactly what to say to make you weep. They can send you to the phone to donate before you realize you've left the comfort of your Lazy boy. You ever think about the psychology that goes into all that?

We can reach out in many directions, inside and outside of the church. And we shouldn't feel guilty for it. I believe He blesses us according to the intents of our heart. Just my humble opinion. I don't belong to any church. I doubt I ever will. So I can't judge, but I've experienced the strangle-hold of a megachurch. I know first-hand the guilt involved in not paying your tithes.

I also know not all churches are bad when it comes to forcing you to give, and even in the bad ones, there are still good people. But you'll never see me clutching my hard-earned money in my hand and walking down the aisle to throw it at the pastors feet. A pastor who wears Italian leather shoes for $500 bucks a pop. I'd rather take my chances and give it to the pan-handler on the corner.

Just my humble opinion.

Find a reputable charity. Sponsors for children in underdeveloped countries are needed, as well as here in our own country. With our economy the way it is, there are many families in your own neighborhood who need help. Be an anonymous donor. If you know a family who is hurting, pay their light bill. Send them a gift card to their local grocery store. Leave a note on their door with a word of encouragement. Don't wait to be an angel of mercy just at Christmas.

That, is all of our priority. Christian or not.

Blessings to you and yours.

Does Jesus Really Need Money?

So I'm channel surfing yesterday, and I flip to a religious station. A marathon "praise-a-thon" to raise money. For the station or missions or whatever. Folks are standing at their seats with their arms raised, moving and swaying to the music, eyes all watery, and sending up a few shouts in between stanzas. A large group of singers and musicians blanket the stage, leading the auditorium from one song to the next, on and on and on and on. I wonder if they classify this as entertainment? Are the people who tune in moved to donate by watching this? An occasional testimony is relayed, the person in 70's couture talking loud and long about sowing seeds of prosperity. Giving in faith. And how God has blessed them, saved them from a life of poverty, sickness, and disease. All because they sowed their seed.

Phone numbers blink at the bottom of the screen and I wonder how many of these I've sat through in my lifetime?

Does God really need my money? Or does He really intend to test my faith on a regular basis by whether or not I give my last dime?

I suppose that depends on whether or not we take the scriptures literally. The condemnation I feel for even writing this blog post weighs heavy on me, because you see, I was brought up on the covenants of God. On the conviction of the Holy Spirit. On the literal meaning of each and every scripture. And if you did not believe as I did, then whoa be unto you. You were dead already.

I understand why these praise and worship marathons exist. I know the love they feel for their Creator, but I also understand the fear involved. The sorrow they feel for anyone who does not believe like they do. Or walk their same path. I swallowed that dogma for years and chased the feelings of eternal security until my feet were worn to bloody stubs.

Am I now an apostate? Have I forsaken the cross?

No.

I've grown tolerant. I've learned that more than anything, God's love can not be explained or compared to the love we know as humans. I will never walk in fear again. I learned that we cannot control God by "giving until it hurts." I've even grown tolerant of folks praising God on camera and living like the devil when the house lights are turned off.

I changed the channel eventually. At least Ellen DeGeneres isn't using guilt to get my last dime. And she makes me laugh. That's more than I can say for a gospel-singing marathon.

Blessings to you and yours.

Sharing A Piece Of Yourself

Whew! Too much time between blogs. All the things you're not supposed to do if you're a blogger, I've done. But I've been blogging since 2005. The rules for blogging were not clearly defined back then. Then again, I don't follow many rules, I'm afraid. Anyway, after all this time, I'm not about to stop blogging now. My intentions of becoming a super-blogger are still in the works, however, they're taking a backseat to getting my new book out. Something has to give somewhere.

I've received eight "yes's" to my request for blurbs from my list of respected authors. I'm extremely happy about it. There are a few more authors I'm waiting on, but as the deadline grows nearer I wonder if I'll hear from them at all. As it is, I'm thankful for those kind and courteous authors who have at least emailed me back. And for those who have decided to give me a bit of their time to say nice things about my book. As a writer, every kind word, gesture, helping hand, and loving heart that sends help my way, I'm not only thankful for, I'm moved beyond words. People are busy these days, and when you are lucky enough for someone to give you a piece of themselves, it's a tremendous blessing that should never go unrecognized.

I have a large, ornate serving dish hanging on my dining room wall that says, Don't just count your blessings, share them. This is a tough business, and sometimes I feel as though I'm out here all alone. I'm sure I'm not the only writer who feels that way.

For me, I'm coming down the home stretch. The book cover is done and everything else is rolling into place. There's still much to do, but after a decade in the writing, TELEVENGE will soon see the light of day. It's a big book. Over 700 pages. Blood, sweat, and plenty of tears cover each of those pages. So when someone says to me, Yes, I'll send you a blurb, I don't take it lightly. Once again, I'm grateful beyond words.

Blessings to you and yours.

Oh Brother, Can You Spare A Blurb?

Blurbs.

I've spent the past three days emailing well-respected authors. Hopeful for their endorsements, I gathered the contacts I made the past ten years, as well as emails from other writers I love, and sent them my genuine and heartfelt request. A request for a blurb. A blurb from great writers who I hope remember what it was like . . . searching for someone to give their debut novel a boost. A leg-up. I worry everyone is so busy with their own work, their own life, they'll forget their days of struggle. Forget what it's like to receive any stroke of good fortune. For someone they respect to turn their way with a nod, and and kind word.

I understand some of these folks receive dozens of requests nearly every day, and it's impossible to honor them all. Especially, if they don't like the manuscript in front of them. I get that.

Oh God, look my way, just once.

It's been such a long journey. Televenge has been over ten years in the writing. I'm so close, I can taste it. I can't even describe the angst. These few final months before the novel is published is filled with publicity work and preparing for a book tour and many sleepless nights.

It's the story of lifetime.

Just give me a chance, God. Give me a chance.

Julie Murkette and the team at Satya House are like branches of a great oak, holding me up, supporting me through every battle, every storm. We're determined to break barriers, and hopefully, with the support of my readers, create a sensation.

It's in God's hands, now. I just have to remember to leave it there.

Blessings to you and yours,

Shoutin' Hallelujah! A New Computer!

HP w185e! My new computer! Laws-a-mercy! After 11 years. A new computer. I can't even tell you what it's like. Everything moves at the speed of sound, I'm having trouble keeping up! Finally, I've been able to upgrade and what a wonder.

Sorry to say, I'm still carrying around my flip phone. IPads scare me to death, and I'm all thumbs when it comes to the remote on the TV. Nook? Kindle? No. I like to open a real book. Not fake one.

I'm a word person and I make no apologies. I keep up with what I need. Not what everybody else is using.

But . . .

I do plan to dig into my social media now. Now that I don't have something equivalent to dial-up. Now I can pull up You Tube without waiting twenty minutes for it to load. I even like the feel of this new keyboard. Coffee spots and toast crumbs from 2006 have wedged themselves into the spaces between the keys on my old keyboard. God knows what else.

So I say goodbye to my old Dell. It's been a good computer. Wrote my last three books on it. It has served me well but it's time to move on.

Blessings to you and yours.

Touchdown Pass For Publicity!

And so it begins! My radio interview this morning sent me spinning! I'm pumped. Ready to rumble. Live internet talk radio is the coolest thing. From your own home, in your jammies, you can talk to the world. Susan Rich Talks, was my host this morning, talking about my books, my writing life, and specifically--about Southern writers and dialect in writing. Twenty minutes of discussion ... giving writers something to think about. Tune in to her show! Susan Rich is doing a great service out there on the west coast for all types of writers, so check out her website and tune in!

It's one way to get the marketing machine started as we make our way toward publication day.

I'm convinced the success of any book is the amount of leg work you put into it after it's written. My head is spinning with ideas and I'm wondering if there will be enough time in the days ahead to do all I want to do. I'm working hand-in-hand with a great publisher and publicist to give Televenge a huge push into the literary public. It's exciting. It's scary. It's a hell of a lot of work. I do believe I could spend twelve hours a day just reading the blogs and websites that deal with book publicity.

In the days to come, I'll be posting my ideas, what worked, what did not. And of course, I'll rely on my old tried-and-true ... public appearances. For Southern Fried Women I spoke at over 150 venues, only scratching the surface. It's going to be a busy year, and it's already Valentine's Day.

The road can seem daunting. There are monsters everywhere. The bad economy, the fluctuating publishing industry, and bookstore after bookstore closing their doors. But I'm reminded, strangely, of the Tom Brady story. The Aaron Rogers story. Those quarterbacks that nobody wanted in the beginning of their careers. Their struggle was years in the making. But eventually, the best won out. Boy-howdy, did it ever. It's enough to give this writer that extra push I need on most days to keep going. Who knows? Televenge may be the touchdown pass I was hoping for.

Blessings to you and yours.