Lynn Hobbs's Blog, page 6
December 15, 2015
Giving Behind The Spotlight
The 2015 Christian Writers Conference was beyond expectation! Held at East Texas Baptist University in Marshall, Texas, the annual late October event, bustled with people eager to teach, learn, and share the craft of writing. I arrived early; enjoyed two, well scheduled days of speakers and workshops, and left late. How exciting to meet the speakers in such a friendly atmosphere, and they came from near and far: Dr. Jerry Hopkins, Dr. Harold Rawlings, Cecil Murphy, Twila Beck, Don Piper, Eva Piper, Frank Beck, Dr. Donn Taylor, Terry Burns, Ken Camp, Lawrence J. Clark, Kristen Clark, Ann Redelfs, Morgan Tarpley, Terri Lacher, Caleb Pirtle 111, Shari Parker, Bruce Gourley, Linda Burklin, Crystal Bowman, Richard L. Fluker, James Pence, Crystal Summers, David King, Lexi Smith, Lynn Cherry, Michael Williams, and Troy White. Sarah Hudson Pierce, Marcy Simmons, Vickie Phelps, and Barbara Arent are also part of the many who gave.Gave what, you might ask?Gave of themselves in a warm welcome to all.Gave of themselves in quality time.Gave of themselves in a caring manner.Gave of themselves in sharing knowledge.Gave of themselves in sharing experiences. It was an awesome conference and by far the best I have ever attended. I did take pictures, and apologize for not taking a picture of each speaker. I was simply too caught up in learning to remember retrieving the camera from my purse. Yes, the conference was that remarkable! Here are some of the pictures I was able to take or had taken before the conference began. Can't wait until the next one in 2016!
Dr. Jerry Hopkins
Dr. Harold Rawlings
Dr. Donn Taylor
myself and Don Piper
Barbara Arent and Vickie Phelps
Evangelist Alan Buchanek
Marcy Simmons and Sarah Hudson Pierce
Linda Yazak, Vickie Phelps, and myself
James Pence and Wife Laurel
myself; Lynn Hobbs
Dr. Jerry Hopkins
Dr. Harold Rawlings
Dr. Donn Taylor
myself and Don Piper
Barbara Arent and Vickie Phelps
Evangelist Alan Buchanek
Marcy Simmons and Sarah Hudson Pierce
Linda Yazak, Vickie Phelps, and myself
James Pence and Wife Laurel
myself; Lynn Hobbs 
December 5, 2015
Descriptions and Words
Thank you, American Christian Fiction Writers for accepting my blog post and publishing on your website today! Enjoy!
“Descriptions & Words” Posted on December 5, 2015 by ACFW By Lynn Hobbs
Besides writing, I love to read. Great descriptions in a book hook me every time. They show me a writer who continues learning the craft of writing and enjoys selecting the right words for the right situation. For me, it is a fun experience. It can be for you as well.How can you come up with remarkable descriptions? I recommend workshops at conferences, but inquire if it’s a beginners, intermediate, or advanced class. Online classes are also helpful.One of the easiest exercises in writing descriptions is to watch and listen to the public. Study body language. Go sit at a diner and take notes over a coffee. Honest conversation, unplanned dialogue, facial expressions, and tone of voice abound. Try the post office, grocery store, or a local restaurant. Take notes. Add emotion and people can relate to what you wrote.
And who is your audience? Do you, as a writer, write words you don’t use in your daily conversation? Words you are not comfortable with either? Would your readers have to stop and look in the dictionary for the meaning of a word you inserted?I once critiqued a seven page chapter that included several words where the average person would not have any idea of their meaning. I brought that fact to the attention of the author. She remarked she was college educated and would not replace them with other words as it would lower her standards in vocabulary. Yes, that is her voice, and fine if her readers are college educated, but a learning experience for those who aren’t. It is my opinion that most fiction readers are reading to discover a great story, not learn new words.If your reader stumbles over your words you could lose a reader.
One of my favorite descriptions came straight from the mouth of my nephew. He had gone to a concert. The highlight for him was when an older man joined the younger band members in an impromptu session on stage. The older man stood tall at first, and as the rhythm escalated my nephew said, “that o’ man scrunched down like a pretzel.” I could easily picture an older man bent over his guitar with his arms and legs resembling a pretzel.What can you learn from listening? Plenty, enough to stop having your characters do anything repetitive. Something refreshing, something believable, and yes, most readers relate to something real.Another favorite: After wearing my hair short for years, one year I let it grow out and had a spiral permanent. My hair was a bushy disaster with curls. Before cutting it off, a friend who lived out of town came to visit with her seven year old daughter. When they arrived at my front door, the little girl stared at me and exclaimed, “You’ve been growing hair.” She summed it up perfectly, and brought a smile to my day.We all learn and grow as authors, daily. Enjoy the whole process. Happy writing!
Lynn Hobbs is the author of the Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga from Desert Coyote Productions.
Book #1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors.
Book #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014, TAA.
Book #3: Hidden Creek, 1st place, Religious Fiction 2015, TAA. Lillie, A Motherless Child (Christian biography) released in October by Proof Productions.
You can find Lynn on her website at http://www.LynnHobbsAuthor.com andFacebook
“Descriptions & Words” Posted on December 5, 2015 by ACFW By Lynn Hobbs
Besides writing, I love to read. Great descriptions in a book hook me every time. They show me a writer who continues learning the craft of writing and enjoys selecting the right words for the right situation. For me, it is a fun experience. It can be for you as well.How can you come up with remarkable descriptions? I recommend workshops at conferences, but inquire if it’s a beginners, intermediate, or advanced class. Online classes are also helpful.One of the easiest exercises in writing descriptions is to watch and listen to the public. Study body language. Go sit at a diner and take notes over a coffee. Honest conversation, unplanned dialogue, facial expressions, and tone of voice abound. Try the post office, grocery store, or a local restaurant. Take notes. Add emotion and people can relate to what you wrote.
And who is your audience? Do you, as a writer, write words you don’t use in your daily conversation? Words you are not comfortable with either? Would your readers have to stop and look in the dictionary for the meaning of a word you inserted?I once critiqued a seven page chapter that included several words where the average person would not have any idea of their meaning. I brought that fact to the attention of the author. She remarked she was college educated and would not replace them with other words as it would lower her standards in vocabulary. Yes, that is her voice, and fine if her readers are college educated, but a learning experience for those who aren’t. It is my opinion that most fiction readers are reading to discover a great story, not learn new words.If your reader stumbles over your words you could lose a reader.
One of my favorite descriptions came straight from the mouth of my nephew. He had gone to a concert. The highlight for him was when an older man joined the younger band members in an impromptu session on stage. The older man stood tall at first, and as the rhythm escalated my nephew said, “that o’ man scrunched down like a pretzel.” I could easily picture an older man bent over his guitar with his arms and legs resembling a pretzel.What can you learn from listening? Plenty, enough to stop having your characters do anything repetitive. Something refreshing, something believable, and yes, most readers relate to something real.Another favorite: After wearing my hair short for years, one year I let it grow out and had a spiral permanent. My hair was a bushy disaster with curls. Before cutting it off, a friend who lived out of town came to visit with her seven year old daughter. When they arrived at my front door, the little girl stared at me and exclaimed, “You’ve been growing hair.” She summed it up perfectly, and brought a smile to my day.We all learn and grow as authors, daily. Enjoy the whole process. Happy writing!
Lynn Hobbs is the author of the Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga from Desert Coyote Productions.
Book #1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors.
Book #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014, TAA.
Book #3: Hidden Creek, 1st place, Religious Fiction 2015, TAA. Lillie, A Motherless Child (Christian biography) released in October by Proof Productions.
You can find Lynn on her website at http://www.LynnHobbsAuthor.com andFacebook
December 1, 2015
"Sin, Secrets, and Salvation" featured on Venture Galleries website
Thank you, Venture Galleries for featuring the 1st book of my Running Forward Series, "Sin, Secrets, and Salvation," on your website, today!
Tuesday Sampler: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation by Lynn HobbsDECEMBER 1, 2015,LINDA PIRTLE
In our mission to connect readers, writers, and books, Venture Galleries has launched a new series featuring writing samples from some of the best authors in the marketplace today. Tuesday’s Sampler is an excerpt from Sin, Secrets, and Salvation by Lynn Hobbs Sin, Secrets, and Salvation is book one of three in The Running Forward Series, a powerful faith and family saga. The novel won first place in Religious Fiction for 2013 by the Texas Association of Authors.The StoryA powerful faith and family saga. A Christian wife, Susan Penleigh, is unequally yoked to a non-Christian husband. Follow her victorious journey through a shaky marriage. Inspiring and action-packed. Reader will have a clear understanding of a Christian viewpoint by her actions. Scripture, prayer, and intrigue round out this suspenseful, Christian women’s fiction novel.
The Sampler“Susan, are you and your husband saved, are you both Christians?” Pastor Dempsey queried.“Yes, I am, but my husband Dave isn’t.” She answered.“Let me explain some things to you. If an unsaved man, or woman, has a choice between doing right or wrong, he would choose wrong. The man would not have enough strength to do right in a difficult situation. A saved man, or woman, would have the faith to do right because he wants to serve God. He would want to do right, no matter how hard it might happen to be. His faith would give him strength to do the correct thing.” He reached for his glass and drank a long swallow of the refreshing beverage. “Reminds me of my favorite verse, Psalms 28:7,” Susan told him. “The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in Him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoices; and with my song I will praise Him.”Pastor Dempsey nodded his head in agreement. “Susan, you and your husband are unequally yoked,” he continued. “That comes straight from II Corinthians 6:14: Be not unequally yoked together with unbelievers, for what fellowship has righteousness with unrighteousness? And what communion has light with darkness?” The pastor closed his Bible.“Unequally yoked people don’t know what blessings they are missing. That’s sad.” She sighed.“Yes, it is. Susan, I want you to picture two oxen, yoked together, pulling a plow. Dave would be going off in one direction, while you are trying to plow straight. A Christian couple would plow straight together in harmony.”“I do understand.”While he and Abby were leaving, he held the door open and turned towards Susan.“You are in an unsafe situation.”“That’s it! That is exactly what I felt. It was hard to explain, but you got it right. Thank you so much for everything. I’ll always remember our talk, Pastor Dempsey.”“Abby, thanks for being here when I needed you.” Relieved, Susan smiled as her visitors got in their cars and drove away.Kerrie arrived within the hour, along with their parents, also. A major discussion developed about Dave.“It’s a mere coincidence about the radio.” Kerrie announced.Susan shook her head, hurt that her sister ignored the facts.“No, this is all planned.” Sam spoke with the authority of being Susan’s father, his tone of voice changed to harshness, clearly angry.“We believe Dave’s directly involved with the hang-up phone calls too. Someone is following his instructions.” Brenda, being a typical mother to both daughters, fumed and paced the floor.“He is sly and cunning, he’ll fight you like a fox,” Sam added.“Remember, Dave warned me he’d fight me like I’ve never fought before.” Susan reiterated. “I opened the mail a few weeks ago and discovered Dave refinanced some property we own. He received twenty-six thousand dollars from the transaction. The bank sent a letter to thank him for his business. Dave has this money now, yet the same unpaid bills keep being sent to us.” Susan stated.“So, Dave never told you about the money, right?” Kerrie inquired.“No, and he’s not aware I found out about it. Let’s go over the options about the money issue. I think three questions share priority:what are his plans for the money;where is it;could Dave be paying people to try and confuse me?”Susan also gave them a quick update on new developments, and told them about the guy in the neighborhood, and the assortment of vehicles driving by.Any useful opinions were put on hold, and suddenly all ideas came to an abrupt halt. School ended for the day, and Susan’s three kids hurried in the house to see everyone.After they were greeted and properly hugged, Susan asked the kids to sit down and join them in the living room.“While you are all together, I want you to know I talked to Abby and her pastor about this.” She explained what Pastor Dempsey said. She mentioned being told she was in an unsafe situation, and the kids squirmed in their seats.“Mom, the house has been open several times when we’d get in from school.” Scott stated.“What?” Susan gasped, and leaned forward in her chair.“It started a few weeks ago. Sometimes the front door would be unlocked, and other times the door was wide open.” Karen’s voice trembled.“Nothing was missing, though.” Molly bounced off the couch and ran to hug her mother.“Guys, please tell me if it ever happens again. I can’t stress enough how serious this is. Call me at work. Anyone could have hidden inside this house when you entered. Don’t go in anymore if you find it unlocked or open.” Susan hugged Molly back and looked at each of her children.“Okay, don’t worry, Mom. We thought perhaps Dad left the house in a hurry, and that’s why we didn’t say anything.” Scott assured her.Karen and Molly both nodded their heads in agreement.“All of you need to be cautious.” Sam advised. He and Brenda got up and walked towards the door.“Call us anytime, and we’ll be right here.” Brenda added as they left.Susan attempted further discussion with Kerrie, who dodged issues and refrained from agreeing with Susan. They quietly prepared dinner together, everyone ate, and all went to bed.Dave came home hours later and spent the night alone in the bedroom.
Susan groaned. The constant beeping sound emitting from the alarm clock rang out like a car horn blasting away in a car parking lot. Large, red neon numbers glared at her―5:30A.M. The fresh brewed aroma of coffee aroused her senses and got her going.Thank goodness I remembered to set it on automatic last night. She poured a cup of the strong, black liquid and sat on a bar stool near the phone.Dave strolled into the kitchen and got his coffee.“The phone will ring at six o’clock.” She told him.Dave just looked at her over his coffee cup.“I get hang-up phone calls, and there is a pattern established.”“Why haven’t you told me sooner?”She shook her head. “Oh, I’m sure it’s a prank, whoever is behind it will soon get tired.”Even though she anticipated it, the jangle of the phone unnerved her. She jumped and hot coffee splattered on her blue chenille robe.Dave grabbed the phone.“Hello?” He glanced at the clock, straight up six o’clock. “Hello?”He hung up. “Some kid probably getting a laugh.”“Probably.” Susan blotted the robe with a paper towel. “I have to be at work. I need to get ready.”“I have a full day also.” Dave replied.On the way to the museum, Susan turned the radio on. In between songs, the disk jockey got her attention immediately.“Good morning, Greenville,” the announcer said. “Aren’t wake – up calls nice?” What did he say? Maybe I should bring a recorder next time. She remembered last week a group of employees from the radio station came for a tour. They all wore t-shirts with the call letters, KDUM.I wore my name badge, and I am listed in the phone book. A wave of nausea rolled over her as she reviewed the possibilities, even the idea that Dave had a girlfriend. She was convinced he must, because his same past behavior pattern was happening again. His girlfriend could be making the calls.Maybe his latest flame is behind this.
November 20, 2015
Prayer, Patience, and Planning Your Word Count
Thank you, Dawn Kinzer and the Seriously Write Team for having me on their blog today. Enjoy my post," Prayer, Patience, and Planning Your Word Count."Prayer, Patience, and Planning Your WordEach author enjoys a sense of accomplishment when numbers rise on their word count. Have you ever noticed someone on social media announce an addition of one thousand or more words to their manuscript in a day? How exciting! I quickly congratulate whoever is making progress. Our situations and routines are different, though. Don’t get discouraged if you only write a few paragraphs daily. Go at your own speed. Quality outranks numbers, and numbers will grow in time.After attending numerous workshops over the years, the consensus is still the same. They all teach to write your story while ideas flow, not stopping to edit, correct punctuation, or refrain from using the same adjective. Simply write and focus on the story. I follow several proven methods and continue learning tons of information from writers and speakers at workshops or conferences.My steps are:1. Pray for direction. As a Christian, I want God’s will in whatever I write as well as whatever I do.2. Have patience with interruptions. They will happen. Stop if they are important, and address the problem. I type one more thought concerning my story before leaving it. This prevents returning, and staring at the page, lost.3. Plan a set time and place to write daily. This applies to all age groups. I met a young woman at a conference who had two children of preschool age. She was frustrated with her word count and ready to stop all attempts at writing. Upon discussing what her typical 24 hour day involved, it was apparent she had too many tasks to complete. Writing while her children took an afternoon nap wasn’t an option. What worked for her? A simple notebook. Ideas were recorded as she spoon fed the baby three times a day. At night, after the children were in bed and as laundry sloshed in the washer and clothes spun in the dryer, she constructed sentences. It was ‘her time’ and proved to not only be relaxing for her, but a workable method to write her novel.After completing several pages or a first chapter, I print each page and read them out loud. Often, I have omitted a word I thought I typed. Next, I ‘tighten up’ the story by removing all unnecessary words such as that, etc. Explore the find button on your Microsoft 10 word doc, enter and track down excess words to delete. How many times did you use the same word on the same page? How many times did you have someone smiling, or coughing? Change the repetition. Is someone sad? Show action, don’t tell it. This pulls a more detailed description from you. Keep polishing in this manner, and have it critiqued. With suggested edits, stay true to your style. It is your own unique voice.Practice what works best for you, and never give up. My favorite scripture is Philippians 4:13; “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
Lillie, A Motherless Child
Lillie, A Motherless Child The true, life story of Lillie Fritsche; one of sixteen siblings, born in the depression era. Lillie’s mother passed away when she was seven years old. Follow her journey from a motherless child to an inspiring woman of faith. As per many reader requests, the printed version is available in a Large Print Paperback, or a handy on the go Digital Download for your Kindle device in regular print.Book includes treasured family photos, and some of her favorite, handed-down German recipes. I hope you will enjoy this glimpse of her life narrowed down to 430 pages in the large print paperback.Lynn Hobbs, author: Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga.#1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014,TAA.#3: Hidden Creek, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2015, TAA. New release, 10/2/2015; Lillie, A Motherless Child. (A Christian biography)To learn more or connect with Lynn, please visit:Author Website Linkedin Twitter Facebook Author Page Facebook Personal Page
Amazon Goodreads
Lillie, A Motherless Child
Lillie, A Motherless Child The true, life story of Lillie Fritsche; one of sixteen siblings, born in the depression era. Lillie’s mother passed away when she was seven years old. Follow her journey from a motherless child to an inspiring woman of faith. As per many reader requests, the printed version is available in a Large Print Paperback, or a handy on the go Digital Download for your Kindle device in regular print.Book includes treasured family photos, and some of her favorite, handed-down German recipes. I hope you will enjoy this glimpse of her life narrowed down to 430 pages in the large print paperback.Lynn Hobbs, author: Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga.#1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014,TAA.#3: Hidden Creek, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2015, TAA. New release, 10/2/2015; Lillie, A Motherless Child. (A Christian biography)To learn more or connect with Lynn, please visit:Author Website Linkedin Twitter Facebook Author Page Facebook Personal Page
Amazon Goodreads
November 18, 2015
"Lillie, A Motherless Child" by author, Lynn Hobbs, featured on Venture Galleries
Thank you, Venture Galleries, for featuring my new book, "Lillie, A Motherless Child" on your website today! Readers, enjoy the first chapter!
HOMEBLOGBOTMBOOKSARTABOUTCONTACTSPEAKINGADVERTISE
VENTURE GALLERIES BLOG FOR READERS AND WRITERS
Sign up for a free download of Chasing Love and Other Ghosts & The Promiscuity Defense, updates and more!
Wednesday Sampler: Lillie, A Motherless Child by Lynn HobbsNOVEMBER 18, 2015LINDA PIRTLE
In our mission to connect readers, writers, and books, Venture Galleries has launched a new series featuring writing samples from some of the best authors in the marketplace today. Wednesday’s Sampler is an excerpt from Lillie, A Motherless Child, a touching portrait of a woman of faith by Lynn Hobbs.The StoryThe true, life story of author Lynn Hobbs’ mother, Lillie Fritsche; born in the Depression Era with sixteen siblings. Lillie’s own mother passed away when Lillie was seven years old. Follow her journey from a motherless child to an inspiring woman of faith.Book includes treasured family photos, and Lillie’s favorite recipes handed –down from German relatives. Paperback book is available in Large Print. Kindle edition is in regular print. I hope readers enjoy this brief glimpse of her life narrowed down to 430 pages. I wrote it in first person and stayed true to Mother’s voice.The Sampler
Lynn Hobbs“Mama, Mama,” I screamed a projected level only a seven year old can master. Overcome by fright, my voice suddenly broke. I jumped up and down in agony. A shrill, high-pitched yell finally sailed out, “Raymond fell in the pond. He’s drowning.”“Well, reach in there and pull him out.” She called frantically from somewhere inside the house. The windows were wide open. Curtains billowed about in the afternoon breeze.My four year old sister, Bernice, glanced toward me and emitted a low, mournful wail that escalated to ear-piercing cries. My heart raced. Leaning forward, I could barely see the mass of curls on top of Raymond’s head. At two years old, the murky water was sucking him under. Snatching his hair, I yanked the tiny body from the pond, and shoved him onto the grass. He coughed and sputtered.“Tee, what you make me done?” His anger spat at me.“See, you got too close. Get back now. Come on.” He struggled while trying to raise himself from the grass. I helped him up as Bernice approached.“Bubba,” she said half-aloud, her chin trembling.“Is Raymond all right?” Mama hollered.I turned and caught a quick glimpse of him. He was sopping wet and silent. He didn’t look hurt. “I got him out, he’s okay.”“Bring him and Bernice with you and stay on the porch.” Her voice drifted to the back of the house.Reaching for a hand from each of them, I took my little brother and sister with me. The pond was about twenty-five feet away from the left side of our home.We walked to the front lawn, past the water well with a hand pump, and slowly made our way to the porch. The wooden house was large and painted white, and Mama had a kitchen garden behind it. We climbed the steps to the front porch and sank into the empty rocking chairs where our parents sat in the evening.No one came to check on us. I knew Mama was cooking or cleaning.My name is Lillie and Daddy calls me Lilla-Mae.Raymond, Bernice, and I were the youngest of sixteen siblings. Our German family struggled as did countless others during the Great Depression years. First born was Matilda (Tilda), then Edwin (Ed), Olga, Otto, Ernst, Hattie (Jane), Amanda (May), Marie, Elsie, Rudolph (Bill), Rubin, Lorraine, Lillie, Fredrick (Freddie, died of phenomena at two months old), Bernice, and Raymond. Born in 1928, I was the oldest of the last three siblings and watched after the other two. Our older brothers and sisters were either in school, helping Daddy work in the field, doing daily household chores with Mama, or married and had moved away. Unknown to us children, the depression was in progress. This was our way of life, we were a happy family, and we were loved. If Mama had to stop and run after so many children all day, she would never get anything done. It was natural for us to look after each other.“Let’s play nails.” Bernice pleaded after we rocked and sang and finally became bored.“I guess so. We can stay by the porch.” I focused on Raymond and raised my voice. “You stay away from the pond.” I scolded. His little face turned slowly toward the ground, and his eyes were almost closed. I watched as the small shoulders on his thin frame shook up and down. He whimpered under his breath, and I realized I had been too hard on him. I knew why he loved the pond. Mama had all of us children stand in line each afternoon, passing a bucket of water from the pond to her kitchen garden. She would stand in front watering the vegetables. Raymond thought watering was fun. That was why he wanted to go near the pond. He wanted all of us to get in a line and pass the sloshing bucket across the lawn to each other. Someone always spilled water on his bare feet, and he’d laugh with excitement. I stopped and hugged him.“I’m sorry I yelled.” I stammered. Water was still dripping down his face. I shoved wet hair back from his forehead.“Okay, sister.” He patted my arm, his feelings had improved, and I was grateful.“Raymond, wait here while we get the nails.” He flashed a wide lopsided smile, and we were once again buddies.Retrieving the nails was not an easy task. Crawling under the porch, Bernice and I wiggled across the dirt. A strong, musty smell of damp earth hung in the air and assaulted our nostrils. Totally drenched, Raymond squatted in the sunshine, and extended one open hand under the house. He sifted dirt through his fingers and waited for us to transfer the ‘toys’ to him. Most of the nails were rusty, all were different lengths. These were our ‘people’. Retrieving them from the front of a brick, we scooted back to Raymond, and placed them in his little hand. He deposited them on the ground, and returned his out-stretched arm toward us again.“More, bring some more.”“Here come the rooms. Be careful with the glass.” I called out to him, and maneuvered back to the brick. Various shapes of an assortment of colored glass lay in a pile. Lifting them cautiously, I dumped all of the pieces into Raymond’s hand. Bernice scrambled out from under the house, and I bumped the top of my head as I exited.Our older sister, Marie, had taught us how to play nails. We would draw a house in the dirt with a stick. A piece of colored glass was placed inside each drawn square to make a ‘room’. The nails were the family for our houses. Long nails were the parents, smaller nails were the children. We would name them, walk our people to each other’s houses, and talk for them as they would visit each other. We’d play for hours. Our imaginations were based on observing our own families routines, and the conversations we copied were overheard from them. We couldn’t afford real toys and enjoyed pretending.Bernice and I sprawled on the ground and drew our houses in the dirt. We set up our play area, while Raymond ran to our two older brothers ‘cars’. They were Rubin and Rudolph’s make believe cars. The two older brothers were in school that day. Raymond eased into the deep, oblong hole each brother had dug in the ground, and sat down, placing his legs inside, also. An old piece of board was always kept inside each car. Our little brother held the car’s board up with both hands. This was the ‘steering wheel’, and he took turns ‘driving’ each car for the remainder of the afternoon, while Bernice and I played nails. The drowning episode was quickly forgotten as our laughter filled the air.Making no attempt to stop playing, we glanced at the commotion from the road as our two older brothers walked home from school. We lived in the countryside of Fairbanks, Texas with few neighbors and had our own farm. Our brothers drifting voices became more distinguishable on their approach to our front lawn.“Lillie, a jack rabbit chases us all the way home.” Rudolph said, frowning at the three younger siblings. Rubin’s mouth fell open, and he turned to stare at Rudolph in amazement.“You are joking, silly Rudolph. Rubin would catch that rabbit and make a pet out of it. Isn’t that right, Rubin?”“I sure would, Lillie. We could all play with him.” He grinned and followed Rudolph up the steps to the porch.“Girl, you caught me joking, again.” Rudolph laughed and both boys entered the house.Later that evening, Mama called us in to eat dinner.Robert and Martha Fritsche were our parents. Daddy always said the blessing before we ate. I can remember the long, wooden multi-planked table where we all gathered to eat. Mama and Daddy sat at each end and long benches held a mixture of my brothers and sisters on either side. Rubin was 10 years old and Rudolph was 12. They would slide huge bowls of food down the length of the table to reach other family members. Everyone talked at the same time, and it was always cheerful. Dinner went by fast.This particular evening, Daddy had picked a watermelon from the garden for our enjoyment after dinner. Busy cutting it open, he laughed. “Hard to believe nothing has ever slid off this table and made a mess on the floor.”Rudolph stood and reached for a slice. “That’s because we practice so much.”Everyone was ready with outstretched hands as Rubin and Rudolph slid one slice after another down the long table.I ate a few bites and accidentally swallowed a watermelon seed. I gulped, and Rudolph noticed.“Oh, your belly is going to get as big as Mama’s.” He announced.I knew Mama was big and pregnant nearly every year and Rudolph’s warning shocked me. I looked at him wide-eyed and fear engulfed me. I burst out crying. My parents and siblings spoke in unison claiming that wouldn’t really happen. I trusted them, and finished my slice of melon.After eating, our older brothers and sisters cleared the table and washed the dishes. Bernice and I would run out to the porch and try to beat each other to the laps of our parents as they rocked in their rocking chairs. Bernice always crawled into Daddy’s lap and I scrambled to Mama. They held us each evening, and it was such a comforting time.When Mama tucked me into bed that night, she noticed my dirty feet.“Lillie, go clean your feet. You can’t sleep in bed like that; you’ll get those sheets dirty.”“Mama, I’m tired. I promise I’ll hang my feet out.”She laughed. “”Okay, then, but you better hang them off the bed all night.”“I will.” I solemnly told her, and I did.I had no way of knowing then how much I’d treasure our time together. My mother would pass away within forty-eight hours.
SHARE THIS POST0 0 1 NewStumbleUpon 1Google + 0
author, books, connecting, Depression Era, faith, inspiring, life story, Lillie: A Motherless Child, Linda Pirtle, Lynn Hobbs, readers, sampler, writers
HOMEBLOGBOTMBOOKSARTABOUTCONTACTSPEAKINGADVERTISE
VENTURE GALLERIES BLOG FOR READERS AND WRITERS
Sign up for a free download of Chasing Love and Other Ghosts & The Promiscuity Defense, updates and more!
Wednesday Sampler: Lillie, A Motherless Child by Lynn HobbsNOVEMBER 18, 2015LINDA PIRTLE
In our mission to connect readers, writers, and books, Venture Galleries has launched a new series featuring writing samples from some of the best authors in the marketplace today. Wednesday’s Sampler is an excerpt from Lillie, A Motherless Child, a touching portrait of a woman of faith by Lynn Hobbs.The StoryThe true, life story of author Lynn Hobbs’ mother, Lillie Fritsche; born in the Depression Era with sixteen siblings. Lillie’s own mother passed away when Lillie was seven years old. Follow her journey from a motherless child to an inspiring woman of faith.Book includes treasured family photos, and Lillie’s favorite recipes handed –down from German relatives. Paperback book is available in Large Print. Kindle edition is in regular print. I hope readers enjoy this brief glimpse of her life narrowed down to 430 pages. I wrote it in first person and stayed true to Mother’s voice.The Sampler
Lynn Hobbs“Mama, Mama,” I screamed a projected level only a seven year old can master. Overcome by fright, my voice suddenly broke. I jumped up and down in agony. A shrill, high-pitched yell finally sailed out, “Raymond fell in the pond. He’s drowning.”“Well, reach in there and pull him out.” She called frantically from somewhere inside the house. The windows were wide open. Curtains billowed about in the afternoon breeze.My four year old sister, Bernice, glanced toward me and emitted a low, mournful wail that escalated to ear-piercing cries. My heart raced. Leaning forward, I could barely see the mass of curls on top of Raymond’s head. At two years old, the murky water was sucking him under. Snatching his hair, I yanked the tiny body from the pond, and shoved him onto the grass. He coughed and sputtered.“Tee, what you make me done?” His anger spat at me.“See, you got too close. Get back now. Come on.” He struggled while trying to raise himself from the grass. I helped him up as Bernice approached.“Bubba,” she said half-aloud, her chin trembling.“Is Raymond all right?” Mama hollered.I turned and caught a quick glimpse of him. He was sopping wet and silent. He didn’t look hurt. “I got him out, he’s okay.”“Bring him and Bernice with you and stay on the porch.” Her voice drifted to the back of the house.Reaching for a hand from each of them, I took my little brother and sister with me. The pond was about twenty-five feet away from the left side of our home.We walked to the front lawn, past the water well with a hand pump, and slowly made our way to the porch. The wooden house was large and painted white, and Mama had a kitchen garden behind it. We climbed the steps to the front porch and sank into the empty rocking chairs where our parents sat in the evening.No one came to check on us. I knew Mama was cooking or cleaning.My name is Lillie and Daddy calls me Lilla-Mae.Raymond, Bernice, and I were the youngest of sixteen siblings. Our German family struggled as did countless others during the Great Depression years. First born was Matilda (Tilda), then Edwin (Ed), Olga, Otto, Ernst, Hattie (Jane), Amanda (May), Marie, Elsie, Rudolph (Bill), Rubin, Lorraine, Lillie, Fredrick (Freddie, died of phenomena at two months old), Bernice, and Raymond. Born in 1928, I was the oldest of the last three siblings and watched after the other two. Our older brothers and sisters were either in school, helping Daddy work in the field, doing daily household chores with Mama, or married and had moved away. Unknown to us children, the depression was in progress. This was our way of life, we were a happy family, and we were loved. If Mama had to stop and run after so many children all day, she would never get anything done. It was natural for us to look after each other.“Let’s play nails.” Bernice pleaded after we rocked and sang and finally became bored.“I guess so. We can stay by the porch.” I focused on Raymond and raised my voice. “You stay away from the pond.” I scolded. His little face turned slowly toward the ground, and his eyes were almost closed. I watched as the small shoulders on his thin frame shook up and down. He whimpered under his breath, and I realized I had been too hard on him. I knew why he loved the pond. Mama had all of us children stand in line each afternoon, passing a bucket of water from the pond to her kitchen garden. She would stand in front watering the vegetables. Raymond thought watering was fun. That was why he wanted to go near the pond. He wanted all of us to get in a line and pass the sloshing bucket across the lawn to each other. Someone always spilled water on his bare feet, and he’d laugh with excitement. I stopped and hugged him.“I’m sorry I yelled.” I stammered. Water was still dripping down his face. I shoved wet hair back from his forehead.“Okay, sister.” He patted my arm, his feelings had improved, and I was grateful.“Raymond, wait here while we get the nails.” He flashed a wide lopsided smile, and we were once again buddies.Retrieving the nails was not an easy task. Crawling under the porch, Bernice and I wiggled across the dirt. A strong, musty smell of damp earth hung in the air and assaulted our nostrils. Totally drenched, Raymond squatted in the sunshine, and extended one open hand under the house. He sifted dirt through his fingers and waited for us to transfer the ‘toys’ to him. Most of the nails were rusty, all were different lengths. These were our ‘people’. Retrieving them from the front of a brick, we scooted back to Raymond, and placed them in his little hand. He deposited them on the ground, and returned his out-stretched arm toward us again.“More, bring some more.”“Here come the rooms. Be careful with the glass.” I called out to him, and maneuvered back to the brick. Various shapes of an assortment of colored glass lay in a pile. Lifting them cautiously, I dumped all of the pieces into Raymond’s hand. Bernice scrambled out from under the house, and I bumped the top of my head as I exited.Our older sister, Marie, had taught us how to play nails. We would draw a house in the dirt with a stick. A piece of colored glass was placed inside each drawn square to make a ‘room’. The nails were the family for our houses. Long nails were the parents, smaller nails were the children. We would name them, walk our people to each other’s houses, and talk for them as they would visit each other. We’d play for hours. Our imaginations were based on observing our own families routines, and the conversations we copied were overheard from them. We couldn’t afford real toys and enjoyed pretending.Bernice and I sprawled on the ground and drew our houses in the dirt. We set up our play area, while Raymond ran to our two older brothers ‘cars’. They were Rubin and Rudolph’s make believe cars. The two older brothers were in school that day. Raymond eased into the deep, oblong hole each brother had dug in the ground, and sat down, placing his legs inside, also. An old piece of board was always kept inside each car. Our little brother held the car’s board up with both hands. This was the ‘steering wheel’, and he took turns ‘driving’ each car for the remainder of the afternoon, while Bernice and I played nails. The drowning episode was quickly forgotten as our laughter filled the air.Making no attempt to stop playing, we glanced at the commotion from the road as our two older brothers walked home from school. We lived in the countryside of Fairbanks, Texas with few neighbors and had our own farm. Our brothers drifting voices became more distinguishable on their approach to our front lawn.“Lillie, a jack rabbit chases us all the way home.” Rudolph said, frowning at the three younger siblings. Rubin’s mouth fell open, and he turned to stare at Rudolph in amazement.“You are joking, silly Rudolph. Rubin would catch that rabbit and make a pet out of it. Isn’t that right, Rubin?”“I sure would, Lillie. We could all play with him.” He grinned and followed Rudolph up the steps to the porch.“Girl, you caught me joking, again.” Rudolph laughed and both boys entered the house.Later that evening, Mama called us in to eat dinner.Robert and Martha Fritsche were our parents. Daddy always said the blessing before we ate. I can remember the long, wooden multi-planked table where we all gathered to eat. Mama and Daddy sat at each end and long benches held a mixture of my brothers and sisters on either side. Rubin was 10 years old and Rudolph was 12. They would slide huge bowls of food down the length of the table to reach other family members. Everyone talked at the same time, and it was always cheerful. Dinner went by fast.This particular evening, Daddy had picked a watermelon from the garden for our enjoyment after dinner. Busy cutting it open, he laughed. “Hard to believe nothing has ever slid off this table and made a mess on the floor.”Rudolph stood and reached for a slice. “That’s because we practice so much.”Everyone was ready with outstretched hands as Rubin and Rudolph slid one slice after another down the long table.I ate a few bites and accidentally swallowed a watermelon seed. I gulped, and Rudolph noticed.“Oh, your belly is going to get as big as Mama’s.” He announced.I knew Mama was big and pregnant nearly every year and Rudolph’s warning shocked me. I looked at him wide-eyed and fear engulfed me. I burst out crying. My parents and siblings spoke in unison claiming that wouldn’t really happen. I trusted them, and finished my slice of melon.After eating, our older brothers and sisters cleared the table and washed the dishes. Bernice and I would run out to the porch and try to beat each other to the laps of our parents as they rocked in their rocking chairs. Bernice always crawled into Daddy’s lap and I scrambled to Mama. They held us each evening, and it was such a comforting time.When Mama tucked me into bed that night, she noticed my dirty feet.“Lillie, go clean your feet. You can’t sleep in bed like that; you’ll get those sheets dirty.”“Mama, I’m tired. I promise I’ll hang my feet out.”She laughed. “”Okay, then, but you better hang them off the bed all night.”“I will.” I solemnly told her, and I did.I had no way of knowing then how much I’d treasure our time together. My mother would pass away within forty-eight hours.SHARE THIS POST0 0 1 NewStumbleUpon 1Google + 0
author, books, connecting, Depression Era, faith, inspiring, life story, Lillie: A Motherless Child, Linda Pirtle, Lynn Hobbs, readers, sampler, writersOctober 7, 2015
New Book!
It's OFFICIAL!!
Lillie, A Motherless Child is now available on Amazon.com. Click the title to go directly and view a free sample from Kindle!
It is available in a Large Print Paperback or a handy on the go Digital Download for your Kindle device.
I know many of you have been patiently waiting on this publication, and I appreciate all the encouragement in helping me to tell this story of my mom. For those of you who are not familiar with my latest project, it is the true life story of my mother, Lillie Fritsche. One of sixteen siblings, born in the depression era. Lillie's mother passed away when she was seven years old. Follow her journey from a motherless child to an inspiring woman of faith.
Book includes treasured family photos, and some of her favorite, handed-down German recipes. I hope you will enjoy this glimpse of her life narrowed down to 430 pages.
-Lynn
Lillie, A Motherless Child is now available on Amazon.com. Click the title to go directly and view a free sample from Kindle!
It is available in a Large Print Paperback or a handy on the go Digital Download for your Kindle device.
I know many of you have been patiently waiting on this publication, and I appreciate all the encouragement in helping me to tell this story of my mom. For those of you who are not familiar with my latest project, it is the true life story of my mother, Lillie Fritsche. One of sixteen siblings, born in the depression era. Lillie's mother passed away when she was seven years old. Follow her journey from a motherless child to an inspiring woman of faith.
Book includes treasured family photos, and some of her favorite, handed-down German recipes. I hope you will enjoy this glimpse of her life narrowed down to 430 pages.
-Lynn
May 14, 2015
Daily Dialogue
American Christian Fiction Writers approved and published my new post on 5-11-2015 on their website. Enjoy Daily Dialogue, my example of the old rule to 'show not tell' for writers.
Daily DialoguePosted on May 11, 2015 by ACFWBy Lynn HobbsConversations written with emotion are excellent page turners. When the reader is offered an in-depth look into two characters particular situation, I recommend having both characters point of view to consider, instead of skimming over the conflict as in many cookie-cutter novels.Dialogue can hold your attention as you learn both sides of the issue.Example:John squinted as sweat beaded across his forehead. Jerking the letter from the mailbox, his eyes focused on the county logo displayed as the return address.I just got off work. Why are they mailing me something?He ripped the letter open and glanced at the pink form.Downsizing? The word echoed in his mind. Adrenalin raced, and John drew his fist back violently hitting the metal mailbox.#Louis watched his neighbor hit the mailbox and shook his head.What a hot-head…He strolled toward the row of shrubbery separating their property.“Hey buddy, you okay?”“Yeah. Lost my job… lousy way to find out, though. Read about it in a letter.” John balled the letter up and pitched it back inside the mailbox.“Well, you county road and bridge employees have had it made for a long time.” Louis huffed and placed his hands on his hips.“What? How can you say that?”“It takes three men each carrying a shovel to walk behind a truck and fill a pot-hole. Seen it too many times.” Louis emitted a loud belly laugh.John cringed and stared wide-eyed at Louis.“Am I hearing you right?” John gasped and marched to the shrubbery. “We do more than fill pot-holes in all types of weather, and you work sitting at a desk in comfort. I am appalled at your opinion, and shocked by your attitude.”“Attitude? What attitude? I just can’t believe my taxpaying money is wasted on men lolly-gagging around on the job. I’m glad the county is cutting back on employees.”“Louis, I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. You don’t understand.”“Oh, I understand alright. I have eyes.” Louis sauntered back to his house.#John stood with his mouth open. Speechless, he glared as anger gnawed at his insides.Who would have thought Louis felt so strongly against county workers? And I thought I knew him well. What else does he feel strongly about? I haven’t a clue. John left the row of shrubbery and silently returned to his own home.That is one example of two points of view on an issue in dialogue. The extremely different opinion by one character makes it a more interesting read, especially when the other character is not expecting it. Stating that Johns’ neighbor Louis was glad John no longer worked for the county road and bridge department would not keep the readers attention.It goes back to the old rule of show, don’t tell.Another idea is to have a character tune out what the second character is saying while the first one is deciding what to say or how to explain something.Whatever you do with dialogue, make it believable.
Lynn Hobbs is the author of the Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga from Desert Coyote Productions.
Book #1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors.
Book #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014, TAA.
Book #3: Hidden Creek, 1st place, Religious Fiction 2015, TAA.
You can find Lynn on her website at http://www.LynnHobbsAuthor.com
This entry was posted in Advice, Authors and writing, Dialogue, Friends of ACFW and tagged Advice, authors, Dialogue, Friends of ACFW. Bookmark thepermalink.
Daily DialoguePosted on May 11, 2015 by ACFWBy Lynn HobbsConversations written with emotion are excellent page turners. When the reader is offered an in-depth look into two characters particular situation, I recommend having both characters point of view to consider, instead of skimming over the conflict as in many cookie-cutter novels.Dialogue can hold your attention as you learn both sides of the issue.Example:John squinted as sweat beaded across his forehead. Jerking the letter from the mailbox, his eyes focused on the county logo displayed as the return address.I just got off work. Why are they mailing me something?He ripped the letter open and glanced at the pink form.Downsizing? The word echoed in his mind. Adrenalin raced, and John drew his fist back violently hitting the metal mailbox.#Louis watched his neighbor hit the mailbox and shook his head.What a hot-head…He strolled toward the row of shrubbery separating their property.“Hey buddy, you okay?”“Yeah. Lost my job… lousy way to find out, though. Read about it in a letter.” John balled the letter up and pitched it back inside the mailbox.“Well, you county road and bridge employees have had it made for a long time.” Louis huffed and placed his hands on his hips.“What? How can you say that?”“It takes three men each carrying a shovel to walk behind a truck and fill a pot-hole. Seen it too many times.” Louis emitted a loud belly laugh.John cringed and stared wide-eyed at Louis.“Am I hearing you right?” John gasped and marched to the shrubbery. “We do more than fill pot-holes in all types of weather, and you work sitting at a desk in comfort. I am appalled at your opinion, and shocked by your attitude.”“Attitude? What attitude? I just can’t believe my taxpaying money is wasted on men lolly-gagging around on the job. I’m glad the county is cutting back on employees.”“Louis, I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. You don’t understand.”“Oh, I understand alright. I have eyes.” Louis sauntered back to his house.#John stood with his mouth open. Speechless, he glared as anger gnawed at his insides.Who would have thought Louis felt so strongly against county workers? And I thought I knew him well. What else does he feel strongly about? I haven’t a clue. John left the row of shrubbery and silently returned to his own home.That is one example of two points of view on an issue in dialogue. The extremely different opinion by one character makes it a more interesting read, especially when the other character is not expecting it. Stating that Johns’ neighbor Louis was glad John no longer worked for the county road and bridge department would not keep the readers attention.It goes back to the old rule of show, don’t tell.Another idea is to have a character tune out what the second character is saying while the first one is deciding what to say or how to explain something.Whatever you do with dialogue, make it believable.
Lynn Hobbs is the author of the Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga from Desert Coyote Productions.Book #1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors.
Book #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014, TAA.
Book #3: Hidden Creek, 1st place, Religious Fiction 2015, TAA.
You can find Lynn on her website at http://www.LynnHobbsAuthor.com
This entry was posted in Advice, Authors and writing, Dialogue, Friends of ACFW and tagged Advice, authors, Dialogue, Friends of ACFW. Bookmark thepermalink.
March 17, 2015
Correct Order
My new submission to the American Christian Fiction Writers blog was approved and published on Feb.25, 2015. Besides a learning experience, it has fond memories I shared. I am blessed to be both caregiver and caretaker to my Mom, in addition to the blessings I receive in writing. Enjoy!
Correct OrderPosted on February 25, 2015 by ACFWBy Lynn HobbsUsually, I write and edit one book or one short story at a time before beginning another. Like some authors, I have a lot of interruptions. In trying to allow for a smooth transition to ‘jump back to where I left off’ in whatever I am writing, I list ideas I want to consider before I stop. Hours later I return, correct order is determined of ideas I kept, and I write totally immersed in the novel.As a disciplined writer, this is my routine. It works well for me, and I encourage you to be comfortable with whatever routine works for you. Similar to drinking coffee, some want it iced, some like it black, others enjoy a creamy concoction in their brew. It’s all coffee, whatever you prefer.I did experiment recently, and got out of my comfort zone in writing. Yes, it taught me more than I ever imagined, and it was for the best in this particular situation.As a writer who creates lists with priorities, I started lining out my next Christian fiction series, what I wanted to convey, etc.Yet, each day, I was pulled to write another novel, a biography about my 87 year old mother. Being her caretaker, I am with her daily; she is my next door neighbor. I often hear her stories that are truly unique, heart-warming, and inspiring. Naturally, I prayed for direction.At first, I scribbled notes to myself of what I wanted to include in her book, while writing the first book of my new series. Later, I had Mom write the year of what particular event happened, and suggested she list what meant the most to her from everything she had experienced.Scanning through her list, my gut feeling kicked in, and I knew my prayer was answered. Mom’s book was my new priority. I gave it my full attention and discovered how difficult it was to write due to the true, emotional scenes.After I wrote over twelve chapters, Mom would remember something else that belonged in a past time frame. I’d back track, including 600 to 800 additional words in the correct chapter, and it flowed well. Weeks turned into months as she and I would stop for doctor appointments, maintenance, grocery shopping, etc. Her biography continued as I worked on the perfect book cover. More stories were recalled that I absolutely had to include. I back tracked again. They were not only special, but each had a meaning behind them. They inspire.I am almost finished writing this book. Of course, I have used all the tips and instructions I was taught from attending many writing workshops.I learned yet another lesson, which proved valuable in creating an older character for my other fiction novels. Correct order is not how we remember. Our memory comes in spurts with laughter, or somber reflections of wisdom. Now, I am more prepared to ‘jump back’ into writing my new Christian fiction series. Thank you, Mom.
Lynn Hobbs is the author of the Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga from Desert Coyote Productions.
Book #1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors.
Book #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014, TAA.
Book #3: Hidden Creek, 1st place, Religious Fiction 2015, TAA.
You can find Lynn on her website at http://www.LynnHobbsAuthor.com
This entry was posted in Advice, Authors and writing, Encouragement, Friends of ACFW, writing and tagged Advice, authors, encouragement, Friends of ACFW, writing. Bookmark the permalink.
Correct OrderPosted on February 25, 2015 by ACFWBy Lynn HobbsUsually, I write and edit one book or one short story at a time before beginning another. Like some authors, I have a lot of interruptions. In trying to allow for a smooth transition to ‘jump back to where I left off’ in whatever I am writing, I list ideas I want to consider before I stop. Hours later I return, correct order is determined of ideas I kept, and I write totally immersed in the novel.As a disciplined writer, this is my routine. It works well for me, and I encourage you to be comfortable with whatever routine works for you. Similar to drinking coffee, some want it iced, some like it black, others enjoy a creamy concoction in their brew. It’s all coffee, whatever you prefer.I did experiment recently, and got out of my comfort zone in writing. Yes, it taught me more than I ever imagined, and it was for the best in this particular situation.As a writer who creates lists with priorities, I started lining out my next Christian fiction series, what I wanted to convey, etc.Yet, each day, I was pulled to write another novel, a biography about my 87 year old mother. Being her caretaker, I am with her daily; she is my next door neighbor. I often hear her stories that are truly unique, heart-warming, and inspiring. Naturally, I prayed for direction.At first, I scribbled notes to myself of what I wanted to include in her book, while writing the first book of my new series. Later, I had Mom write the year of what particular event happened, and suggested she list what meant the most to her from everything she had experienced.Scanning through her list, my gut feeling kicked in, and I knew my prayer was answered. Mom’s book was my new priority. I gave it my full attention and discovered how difficult it was to write due to the true, emotional scenes.After I wrote over twelve chapters, Mom would remember something else that belonged in a past time frame. I’d back track, including 600 to 800 additional words in the correct chapter, and it flowed well. Weeks turned into months as she and I would stop for doctor appointments, maintenance, grocery shopping, etc. Her biography continued as I worked on the perfect book cover. More stories were recalled that I absolutely had to include. I back tracked again. They were not only special, but each had a meaning behind them. They inspire.I am almost finished writing this book. Of course, I have used all the tips and instructions I was taught from attending many writing workshops.I learned yet another lesson, which proved valuable in creating an older character for my other fiction novels. Correct order is not how we remember. Our memory comes in spurts with laughter, or somber reflections of wisdom. Now, I am more prepared to ‘jump back’ into writing my new Christian fiction series. Thank you, Mom.
Lynn Hobbs is the author of the Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga from Desert Coyote Productions.Book #1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors.
Book #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014, TAA.
Book #3: Hidden Creek, 1st place, Religious Fiction 2015, TAA.
You can find Lynn on her website at http://www.LynnHobbsAuthor.com
This entry was posted in Advice, Authors and writing, Encouragement, Friends of ACFW, writing and tagged Advice, authors, encouragement, Friends of ACFW, writing. Bookmark the permalink.
January 31, 2015
Lynn Hobbs, Awarded 1st Place in Religious Fiction, 2015, by Texas Association of Authors
I just won! So exciting...makes me want to hurry and finish writing my next novel!
Add caption
Add caption
November 15, 2014
Smooth Scene Breaks
Enjoy my post on American Christian Fiction Writers website!
Smooth Scene BreaksPosted on November 15, 2014 by ACFWby Lynn HobbsDescriptions of a scene and section break are simple. A section break can be another characters point of view or closure of a particular scene. A scene break within the same scene will show days or hours later in the story; or the character’s advance to a new location.A challenge to include them in a flowing manner is not only worth the effort, but a must for any writer. Reaching such goals can be a learning experience.Often, as a new writer who doesn’t plot, it’s easy to enter a scene break without realizing the end result. The author knows how he or she wants the story to proceed, but can get in a hurry. If readers feel you ‘jumped around’ too much, they will not back track to reread where you left off. They will lose interest.Follow my similarity of writing your story and taking a cross-town bus ride.You board the bus on Fourth Street and plan to exit on Twentieth Street. Selecting a window seat, you enjoy the view, and exchange conversation with other passengers. Your goal is to have a relaxing ride. This is highly possible, unless you spot a donut shop a block away and excitedly depart the bus. Waiting for the next bus to arrive, it rains, and you have no umbrella. Irritable, and wet, you climb the steps onto the second bus; not having conversation with anyone. You then notice a coffee house and leave the bus again. Later, after enjoying coffee, you board the third bus, and your initial point is lost as you finally exit on Twentieth Street.As in writing, the same principle applies.Same ride, same destination, but after several ‘jumps'; your reader loses the point you intended to make and is drifting as much as you are on the bus ride.Most breaks are necessary to move forward in the story process.If possible, attempt to connect two scene breaks with one short sentence or paragraph. Again, a worthwhile challenge, this one also encourages growth as a writer. If done smoothly, the transition won’t cause the reader to ‘stumble’ while reading your words. You won’t lose any momentum, either.One example of scene jumping:Scene one ends: “I’m thankful for your advice and glad you sat next to me.” The young woman clutched the baby tighter as it’s crying abruptly ended. Glancing over her shoulder, the older woman departed the bus. “Babies feel more secure when not held loosely.”Scene two begins: Is he here alone with that baby?A smooth transition connecting the two scenes would be: “Babies feel more secure when not held loosely.” Nodding, the younger woman gathered the diaper bag, and left the bus at the next stop. A short walk to parenting class, she noticed a young man with a stroller entering the room. Is he here alone with that baby?Writing challenges can be as rewarding for the author as the finished product is to the reader!
Lynn Hobbs is the author of the Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga from Desert Coyote Productions.
Book #1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors.
Book #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014, TAA.
Book #3: Hidden Creek.
You can find Lynn on Amazon, Facebook, Goodreads, LinkedIn, Twitter: @LynnHobbsAuthor
http://www.LynnHobbsAuthor.com
This entry was posted in Advice, Authors and writing, Friends of ACFW, tips,writing and tagged Advice, authors, Friends of ACFW, writing tips. Bookmark the permalink.
Smooth Scene BreaksPosted on November 15, 2014 by ACFWby Lynn HobbsDescriptions of a scene and section break are simple. A section break can be another characters point of view or closure of a particular scene. A scene break within the same scene will show days or hours later in the story; or the character’s advance to a new location.A challenge to include them in a flowing manner is not only worth the effort, but a must for any writer. Reaching such goals can be a learning experience.Often, as a new writer who doesn’t plot, it’s easy to enter a scene break without realizing the end result. The author knows how he or she wants the story to proceed, but can get in a hurry. If readers feel you ‘jumped around’ too much, they will not back track to reread where you left off. They will lose interest.Follow my similarity of writing your story and taking a cross-town bus ride.You board the bus on Fourth Street and plan to exit on Twentieth Street. Selecting a window seat, you enjoy the view, and exchange conversation with other passengers. Your goal is to have a relaxing ride. This is highly possible, unless you spot a donut shop a block away and excitedly depart the bus. Waiting for the next bus to arrive, it rains, and you have no umbrella. Irritable, and wet, you climb the steps onto the second bus; not having conversation with anyone. You then notice a coffee house and leave the bus again. Later, after enjoying coffee, you board the third bus, and your initial point is lost as you finally exit on Twentieth Street.As in writing, the same principle applies.Same ride, same destination, but after several ‘jumps'; your reader loses the point you intended to make and is drifting as much as you are on the bus ride.Most breaks are necessary to move forward in the story process.If possible, attempt to connect two scene breaks with one short sentence or paragraph. Again, a worthwhile challenge, this one also encourages growth as a writer. If done smoothly, the transition won’t cause the reader to ‘stumble’ while reading your words. You won’t lose any momentum, either.One example of scene jumping:Scene one ends: “I’m thankful for your advice and glad you sat next to me.” The young woman clutched the baby tighter as it’s crying abruptly ended. Glancing over her shoulder, the older woman departed the bus. “Babies feel more secure when not held loosely.”Scene two begins: Is he here alone with that baby?A smooth transition connecting the two scenes would be: “Babies feel more secure when not held loosely.” Nodding, the younger woman gathered the diaper bag, and left the bus at the next stop. A short walk to parenting class, she noticed a young man with a stroller entering the room. Is he here alone with that baby?Writing challenges can be as rewarding for the author as the finished product is to the reader!
Lynn Hobbs is the author of the Running Forward Series; a powerful faith and family saga from Desert Coyote Productions.Book #1: Sin, Secrets, and Salvation, awarded 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2013, Texas Association of Authors.
Book #2: River Town, 1st place, Religious Fiction, 2014, TAA.
Book #3: Hidden Creek.
You can find Lynn on Amazon, Facebook, Goodreads, LinkedIn, Twitter: @LynnHobbsAuthor
http://www.LynnHobbsAuthor.com
This entry was posted in Advice, Authors and writing, Friends of ACFW, tips,writing and tagged Advice, authors, Friends of ACFW, writing tips. Bookmark the permalink.
