Sibella Giorello's Blog, page 6

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!I hope you're ...

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!
I hope you're enjoying these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's, including Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and your's humbly. Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple form and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.
Now here's the Fifth Pearl post, from somebody I am privileged to call my friend: author Deb Raney.*** The Snowflake Party                     By Deborah RaneyThe first snow of winter hasn't fallen yet, but in our kitchen tonight we're doing a pretty good imitation. The whole family is circled around the huge old oak table. The snip, snip, snip of scissors is background music as tiny scraps of white paper float down, making our floor look like a giant brownie sprinkled with powdered sugar.Tonight has turned out to be the night for our annual Snowflake Party, a tradition that began when our children were toddlers. There has never been a date blocked out in red on our calendar, but one day we wake up and the brisk autumn air has turned bitter cold. Naked tree branches trace their stark calligraphy on a dull grey sky and we need a taste of the joyful promises of Christmas and snow. It's the perfect time for a party.On such a day, one of the kids will fly in the back door, fresh home from school, and declare "Hey, Mom! Tonight would be a good night for the Snowflake Party!" First we round up every pair of scissors in the house. This is one time when sharing is not a virtue. While the kids search for scissors, I cut white paper into squares and fold them caddy-corner multiple times. The resulting triangles are artfully arranged in a basket, awaiting the beginning of the party.Later, while the supper dishes dry on the counter, I recruit a volunteer to help me stir up a big pot of hot cocoa. For the next hour it will warm on the back burner, tantalizing us with its aroma.Now the fun begins with careful cutting and snipping, shaping plain white paper into intricate works of art. Each snowflake we create seems as unique and spectacular as the genuine variety created by God himself. As each masterpiece is unfolded, collective oohs and aahs go up.When the last dregs of our creative juices are drained, Dad oversees the vacuum patrol while I pour cocoa into generous mugs. We spread our handiwork on the floor around us and sit, quietly admiring our work while we dunk marshmallows and sip rich chocolate.
With empty mugs piled up in the sink, it's time for the judging to begin. There will be awards for 'prettiest', 'most unusual', and as many other categories as we need for everyone to be a winner. Dad is the judge because he studied art in college. He also usually wins one of the top prizes––because he studied art in college.Snowflakes deemed runners-up might be pasted in scrapbooks or hung on the refrigerator. A few even "melt" into the trash that very night. But the winners are taped proudly to the picture windows in the living room for passersby to enjoy while they long for the day when genuine snowflakes will color the world clean and white.Our oldest daughter went away to college last September. She called just after Thanksgiving to tell me that her dorm window was covered with snowflakes. No, not the real thing, but the ones she remembers from her childhood––paper ones that she spent an entire evening cutting and snipping while sipping hot cocoa. That's the neat thing about traditions: They go with us no matter how far from home we travel. ***DEBORAH RANEY's first novel, A Vow to Cherish, inspired the World Wide Pictures film of the same title. Her books have since won the RITA Award, ACFW Carol Award, HOLT Medallion, National Readers' Choice Award, Silver Angel, and have twice been Christy Award finalists. After All, third in her Hanover Falls Novels series will release next spring from Howard/Simon & Schuster. Deb and her husband, Ken Raney, enjoy small-town life in Kansas. Their four children are grown now and having snowflake parties with their own children––and they all live much too far away. Visit Deb on the web at  www.deborahraney.com .

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!Here's the Fou...

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!
Here's the Fourth Pearl, by Elizabeth Musser.
I hope you're enjoying these Christmas "Pearls of Wisdom" from some of today's most beloved writer's (Tricia Goyer, Suzanne Woods Fisher, Shellie Rushing Tomlinson, and your's humbly). Please follow the series through Christmas day as each contributor shares heartfelt stories of how God has touched a life during this most wonderful time of the year.AND just for fun ... there's also a giveaway! Fill out this simple form and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set ($450 value). Contest runs 12/14 - 12/25 and the winner will on 1/1. Contest is only open to US and Canadian residents. You may enter once per day.If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info and see what we're all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace or one of the Pearl Girls products (all GREAT gifts!) to help support Pearl Girls.***          Why I Decorate for Christmas                               By Elizabeth Goldsmith MusserAn old cassette tape of Christmas carols—received in a package twenty years ago when we had first arrived in France as missionaries—fills our den with delightful piano music as I place one more ornament on the already over-laden Christmas tree.  This one is a little white wooden rabbit with pink ears that move back and forth.  It actually doesn't look much like a Christmas ornament, but I bought it for our baby Andrew when my husband Paul was in seminary, and I was working for less than minimum wage in the library.  This ornament was literally all I could afford.As I hang it on the tree today, I get goose bumps and then a rush of warmth.  And that's why I decorate for Christmas.  Not to impress but to remember.  I remember those lean, lean years, and God's faithful provision for us.There are the cross-stitched ornaments I made our first year in Montpellier—for the boys (for by now we had two sons) and Paul and me.  How I ever had time to do that, I don't know.  I remember our puny little tree—the kind they sold in France back then—in a pot so that it could be replanted later.  We perched that tiny tree on a small table out of baby Christopher's reach.  I guess I watered it too much, because about halfway through December, it started smelling and then stinking, and it rotted there on Christmas Day!I smile with these memories.I look at the other ornaments on the tree.  Many were purchased—one for each boy—when we attended conferences around Europe, and that makes me smile too.  Getting to travel on a missionary's budget to exotic places!  There are the waxed red bear and red baby carriage from Wales, the brightly painted clay sun and moon from Portugal, the blue and white porcelain windmill and wooden shoes from Holland, the hand-blown glass Snoopys sitting on gondolas from Venice, and the delicately decorated eggs from Prague.Other ornaments include the little pinkish shiny ball ornament with Paul's name written in glitter—I think he made it when he was about six , and the little red velvet bows, bought at Michael's after Christmas one year for a dollar.  They bring a unifying theme to the tree.  I say this, smiling, because our tree is, and has always been throughout the years, a hodge-podge of our life.  And I like it that way.  I don't think I could ever have a 'theme' tree.  Mine is a 'memory' tree.The music plays softly in the background and I smile through tears, remembering God's incredible faithfulness to call and keep us here in France for so many years.  Heart-breakingly hard years, overwhelmingly joyful years—the same years, the same amazing God, our keeper.Before we left for the mission field, I memorized Psalm 121 in English and in French, and over the years I have held on tight to those last beautiful words of the psalm:  The Lord will guard your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forever. (NASB)Of course He will.  He is God with us.We decorate to remember Christmases past, our lives, our legacy, and mostly, for those of us who have embraced Christ, we decorate to honor and praise Him for coming to us—Emmanuel!  We make our homes ready to receive the Christ Child, with soft music and candles burning and the sweet flickering of angel wings on an over-laden evergreen.*** ELIZABETH GOLDSMITH MUSSER , an Atlanta native and the bestselling author of The Swan House, is a novelist who writes what she calls 'entertainment with a soul.'  For over twenty years, Elizabeth and her husband, Paul, have been involved in missions work with International Teams.  They presently live near Lyon, France. The Mussers have two sons and a daughter-in-law. The Sweetest Thing (Bethany House, 2011) is Elizabeth's eighth novel. To learn more about Elizabeth and her books, and to find discussion questions as well as photos of sites mentioned in the stories, please visit www.elizabethmusser.com and her Facebook Fan Page.

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!My protagonist...

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas! My protagonist Raleigh Harmon likes pearls. Not to wear -- she's nowhere near girlie enough -- but pearl geology offers us one of the best metaphors for overcoming life's challenges through grace. 
Every pearl is the result of an irritation working its way into an oyster's soft tissue. Over time, the irritation gets layered with minute amounts of calcium carbonate, blanketing the hard object with smooth concentric layers. Eventually, the "irritation" turns into an object of beauty and value. Fine and iridescent. Breathtaking. Transformed.
Author Margaret McSweeney makes excellent use of this metaphor in her latest book, "Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace." Host of the radio show Kitchen Chat and founder of Pearl Girls, which supports charities focused on women and children, Margaret has invited a dozen authors to join her for the 3rd annual Twelve Pearls of Christmas.
Grit and grace and gratitude. Each day, from now until Christmas, a different author will be reflecting on this most wonderful time of the year. I'm honored to join the likes of Tricia Goyer, Deb Raney, Suzanne Woods Fischer, Rachel Hauck and others with these daily posts.
BUT that's just half the fun. Or maybe just a quarter of it. Because there's also a giveaway. Yep: Bling! 
Fill out this simple form and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set valued at $450. You read that right. Margaret is putting all other authors to shame with her giveaway. The contest, which is open only to US and Canadian residents, runs 12/14 - 12/25. The winner will be announced on 1/1.
And since you can enter daily, hop back here each day for the next blog post. It's a great way to celebrate the twelve days of Christmas. And be sure to connect with Margaret  Facebook or Twitter.
Here's the Third Pearl from Sandy Ralya.***Where is Comfort and Joy Found?By Sandy RalyaThe year 2006 ushered unwelcome emotions into my life. My husband was unhappy in his job, two of my grown children were making poor choices, my mother-in-law was showing signs of Alzheimer's, extended-family issues were surfacing, and I was writing a book. Things only got worse. Much worse.Early in 2007, I was asked to represent the mentoring ministry for wives I founded, Beautiful Womanhood, and lead a women's conference in Uganda, Africa. My husband wasn't sure if traveling to Africa was a good idea, so we committed it to prayer. While we were listening for an answer, I sensed God asking me to fast from spending, except for groceries, for thirty days. Sometimes you know that you've heard God's voice because you'd never have come up with those words on your own. This was one of those times. I'd never heard of a fast from spending. Tom needed no convincing that a fast from spending came directly from the mouth of God. He still gets excited just thinking about it!During the fast, it became clear I had used spending as a way to gain a comfort fix. When I was spending money, I felt carefree and lighthearted. Instead of dwelling on the unpleasantness in my life, I was thinking of my purchases and how they would bring me pleasure. Not until I stopped spending did I realize how short-lived the fix really was. During the fast, when I felt the urge to spend—to anesthetize my pain—I pictured myself running into the arms of Jesus, the Great Comforter. Oh, what comfort I received!One night, I told good friends my experience of gaining comfort through the power of the Holy Spirit rather than money. I exclaimed that I had never felt so comforted. One friend then told us about a dream he'd had shortly after hearing about the invitation from Uganda. After the dream, he had awoken and recorded the following thoughts:". . . this is for Sandy. Christ's redemption of women is beautiful. Beautiful Womanhood is a result of redemptive wholeness. The visuals the ministry uses on the books, etc., are like a piece of beautifully veneered furniture. There is something going on with the ministry to the brokenness of abused women. In Uganda, there are hurting, abused women, and something is connecting their need and Beautiful Womanhood. Though there is nothing wrong with veneer, it is only the topping—the covering, and without good structure it is shallow and will not hold up. It is time to add a new depth to the ministry."Then these verses came to my friend's mind:All praise to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the source of every mercy and the God who comforts us. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When others are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. You can be sure that the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 NLWhen my friend was finished sharing, everyone in the room broke down in tears, praising God for His work in my life. I'd learned to listen and God had spoken. I'd obeyed, and He'd acted. When He acted, I was changed.Needless to say, I packed my bags and experienced some of the best days of my life in Uganda—offering God's comfort to His troubled women.***Sandy and her husband Tom have been married since 1980 and live near Grand Rapids, Michigan. They have three adult children and a growing number of grandchildren. When not writing and speaking, Sandy enjoys shopping at yard sales for vintage clothing, cooking, travelling, and drinking really good coffee (black is best) with her husband. For more information, contact Sandy at s andy@beautifulwomanhood.com . Subscribe to Sandy's blog at  www.beautifulwomanhood.com/blog . Find Sandy on Facebook at Beautiful Womanhood. Follow Sandy on Twitter @MentoringWives.

Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas!My protagoni...

  Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas! My protagonist Raleigh Harmon likes pearls. Not to wear -- she's not girlie enough -- but for their geology. And their metaphor. 
Every pearl begins with an irritation which works its way into an oyster's soft tissue. It's not unlike the way anger and bitterness can worm their way into the human heart. But productive mollusks are wise, and they begin layering the hard object with tiny amounts of calcium carbonate, patiently blanketing the surface with smooth concentric layers. It's a long process but it produces something fine and iridescent. Breathtaking. The wound is transformed into a wonder.
Author Margaret McSweeney makes excellent use of this metaphor in her latest book, "Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace." Host of the radio show Kitchen Chat, Margaret is the founder of Pearl Girls, an organization supporting charities focused on women and children. She has kindly invited a dozen authors to join her for the 3rd annual "Twelve Pearls of Christmas."
Grit and grace and gratitude. Each day, from now until Christmas, a different author will be reflecting on this most wonderful time of the year. I'm honored to join the likes of Tricia Goyer, Deb Raney, Suzanne Woods Fischer, Rachel Hauck and others with these daily posts.
BUT that's just half the fun. Or maybe just a quarter of it. Because there's also a giveaway. Yep: Bling! 
Fill out this simple form and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set valued at $450. You read that right. Margaret is putting all authors to shame with her giveaway. The contest, open only to US and Canadian residents, runs 12/14 - 12/25. The winner will be announced on 1/1.
You can enter daily, so hop back here each blog post. It's a great way to celebrate the twelve days of Christmas. 

Here's Day Two of the Twelve Pearls. Written by your's humbly.



hallelujahsbyholly.blogspot.com               Advent Let's consider the bride's walk down the aisle. We all know where that woman in the white is going but somehow waiting for her to arrive at the altar is an essential part of the ceremony. In fact, the waiting is so essential that even cheapskate Vegas chapels include wedding marches.Why?Because the wait adds meaning to the moment.At Christmas time, we tend to forget this essential truth about anticipation. We're lost to shopping malls and checklists, rushing toward December 25th so quickly that we forget the quiet joy of the month's other 24 days -- and then we wonder why we feel so empty on the 26th, amid ribbons and wrapping paper and our best intentions.Because the wait adds meaning to the moment.And that is why Advent is so important to Christmas.I'm as guilty as the next harried person. This Advent was particularly tricky because just six hours before it started, I was still trying to finish a 110,000-word novel that was written over the course of the year -- written while homeschooling my kids, keeping my hubby happy, and generally making sure the house didn't fall down around us.It's an understatement to say my free time is limited. But waiting adds meaning, and Advent is crucial to Christmas, so I've devised several Advent traditions that are simple, powerful and easy to keep even amid the seasonal rush.When my kids outgrew the simple Advent calendars around age 7, I stole an idea from my writer friend Shelly Ngo (as T.S. Eliot said, "Mediocre writers borrow. Great writers steal." Indulge me.)Here's how it goes: Find 24 great Christmas books, wrap them individually and place then under the tree. On the first day of Advent, take turns picking which book to open. When we did this, we would cuddle under a blanket and read aloud -- oh, the wonder, the magic! We savored "The Polar Express," howled with "How Murray Saved Christmas," and fell silent at the end of "The Tale of The Three Trees" (note: some of the picture books I chose were not explicitly about Christmas but they always echoed the message that Jesus came to earth to save us from ourselves and to love us beyond our wildest imagination. In that category, Angela Hunt's retelling of The Three Trees definitely hits the Yuletide bull's eye).This Advent tradition lasted for about five years. It gave us rich daily discussions about the season's real meaning, without being religious or legalistic, and it increased family couch time. But like the lift-the-flap calendars, my kids outgrew the picture books.Because the wait adds meaning, and Advent is crucial, I prayed for another way to celebrate anticipation of Christmas. By the grace of God, last year I found an enormous Advent calendar on  clearance at Pottery Barn. Made of burlap, it has large pockets big enough to hold some serious bounty.
But my husband and I didn't want the kids focusing only on the materialist stuff for Advent -- we already fight that on Christmas day. We decided to fill the daily pockets with simple necessities and small gift cards. We also printed out the nativity story from Luke 2:1-21 in a large-sized font and cut each verse out. From Day 1 to Day 21, there is one verse to read aloud. The kids memorize it, then get to open their present (again, on alternating days for each person). Then we tape the verse to the wall in order. By Day 22, all the verses are on the wall, in order, and the kids now try to recite the entire nativity story from memory. That's not as difficult as it sounds because they've been memorizing one verse each day. Still, the entire recitation -- verbatim -- usually requires Day 23 and Day 24. Whoever does memorize the entire thing -- without mistakes --  earns a bonus gift of $25.Does that sounds extravagant?It is.Because we want our kids to understand that God came down and humbled himself and taught us about love right before He suffered and died on behalf of the undeserving -- which is every one of us.That's extravagant.And in the waiting, we find even more meaning.*** Sibella Giorello  writes the Raleigh Harmon mystery series which won the Christy Award with its first book "The Stones Cry Out." She lives in Washington state with her husband and children, and often wishes there were 36 hours in a day.

&...

                  Welcome to the 12 Pearls of Christmas! My protagonist Raleigh Harmon likes pearls. Not to wear -- she's nowhere near girlie enough -- but pearl geology offers us one of the best metaphors for overcoming life's challenges through grace. 
Every pearl is the result of an irritation working its way into an oyster's soft tissue. Over time, the irritation gets layered with minute amounts of calcium carbonate, blanketing the hard object with smooth concentric layers. Eventually, the "irritation" turns into an object of beauty and value. Fine and iridescent. Breathtaking. Transformed.
Author Margaret McSweeney makes excellent use of this metaphor in her latest book, "Pearl Girls: Encountering Grit, Experiencing Grace." Host of the radio show Kitchen Chat and founder of Pearl Girls, which supports charities focused on women and children, Margaret has invited a dozen authors to join her for the 3rd annual Twelve Pearls of Christmas.
Grit and grace and gratitude. Each day, from now until Christmas, a different author will be reflecting on this most wonderful time of the year. I'm honored to join the likes of Tricia Goyer, Deb Raney, Suzanne Woods Fischer, Rachel Hauck and others with these daily posts.
BUT that's just half the fun. Or maybe just a quarter of it. Because there's also a giveaway. Yep: Bling! 
Fill out this simple form and enter for a chance to win a beautiful pearl necklace and earring set valued at $450. You read that right. Margaret is putting all other authors to shame with her giveaway. The contest, which is open only to US and Canadian residents, runs 12/14 - 12/25. The winner will be announced on 1/1.
And since you can enter daily, hop back here each day for the next blog post. It's a great way to celebrate the twelve days of Christmas. And be sure to connect with Margaret  Facebook or Twitter.
Now, here's the First Pearl from novelist Suzanne Woods Fisher.

A Christmas of Kindness                          By Suzanne Woods Fisher "You can give without loving, but you can¹t love without giving." Amish proverbI do it every year.I plan for a simpler, less stressful Christmas season and, every year, by Christmas Eve I'm exhausted! After our delicious and very-time-consuming-to-make traditional Swedish meal to honor my husband¹s relatives (think: Vikings), it's time to head to church. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but the last few Christmas Eve's, I have sent my husband and kids head off without me. The pull to spend an hour of quiet in the house feels as strong as a magnet.It's odd. My children are young adults now. Wouldn't you think that Christmas would be simpler? Instead, it's just the opposite. Jugging schedules to share the grandbaby with the in-laws, trying to include our elderly parents at the best time of day for them, dancing carefully around recently divorced family members whose children are impacted by the shards of broken relationships.The thing is: you can simplify your to-do list, but you can't really simplify people. We are just a complicated bunch.Here's where I borrow a lesson about simplicity from the Amish. It's easy to get distracted with the buggies and the bonnets and the beards, but there's so much more to learn from these gentle people if you're willing to look a little deeper.Yes, they live with less "stuff" and that does make for a simpler, less cluttered life. But it's the reason behind it that is so compelling to me: they seek to create margin in their life. Not just empty spacebut space that is available to nourish family, community, and faith. Their Christmas is far less elaborate than yours or mine, but what they do fill it with is oh so right.Christmas comes quietly on an Amish farmhouse. There is no outward sign of the holiday as we know it: no bright decorations, no big tree in the living room corner. A few modest gifts are waiting for children at their breakfast place settings, covered by a dishtowel. Waiting first for Dad to read the story of Christ's birth from the book of Luke. Waiting until after a special breakfast has been enjoyed. Waiting until Mom and Dad give the signal that the time has come for gifts.Later, if Christmas doesn't fall on a Sunday, extended family and friends will gather for another big meal. If time and weather permits, the late afternoon will be filled with ice skating or sledding. And more food! Always, always an abundance of good food. Faith, family, and community. That is the focus of an Amish Christmas.And it's also how the story begins for A Lancaster County Christmas, as a young family prepares for Christmas. A winter storm blows a non-Amish couple, Jaime and C.J. Fitzpatrick, off-course and into the Riehl farmhouse. An unlikely and tentative friendship develops, until the one thing Mattie and Sol hold most dear disappears and then. Ah, but you¹ll just have to read the story to find out what happens next. Without giving anything away, I will say that I want to create a Mattie-inspired margin this Christmas season. Mattie knew inconveniences and interruptions that come in the form of people (big ones and little ones!) are ordained by God. And blessed by God.Creating margin probably means that I won't get Christmas cards out until the end of January, and my house won't be uber-decorated. After all, something has to give. But it will mean I make time for a leisurely visit with my dad at his Alzheimer's facility. And time to volunteer in the church nursery for a holiday-crowded event. And time to invite a new neighbor over for coffee. Hopefully, it will mean that my energy won't get diverted by a frantic, self-imposed agenda. Only by God's agendathe essence of true simplicity.And that includes taking time to worship Christ's coming at the Christmas Eve service. You can hold me accountable! This year, I will be there.***Suzanne Woods Fisher is the bestselling author of The Choice, The Waiting, The Search, and The Keeper, as well as nonfiction books about the Amish, including Amish Peace. Her interest in the Anabaptist cultures can be directly traced to her grandfather, W. D. Benedict, who was raised in the Old Order German Baptist Brethren Church in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. Suzanne is a Christy Award nominee and is the host of an internet radio show called Amish Wisdom and her work has appeared in many magazines. She lives in California.  www.suzannewoodsfisher.com .

New Life for First Novels

Today we have a guest post from writer Lyn Cote, whose historical and contemporary fiction has won many awards, including this year's CAROL from American Christian Fiction Writers. Her books have also been named finalists for romance writing's highest honor, the RITA, and the HOLT Medallion and the National Readers Choice Award. 
Lyn approaches her historical fiction this way:

[image error] I prefer to take history and gently fit my characters into the historical setting as if they were a true part of it. Many times when I do my research for a new story, I find that the true events are more wonderful than anything I could have made up. One example of this was in my WWII book, Bette. I read that before WWII, two Nazi agents were walking in NY City and arguing. The argument became so heated that they walked out into traffic and one was hit by a car and killed. The Nazis were being followed at the time and the FBI agent was able to find important papers on the dead Nazi. So I used this scene in my book. I mean--could I think of anything more bizarre?Recently, Lyn went back to her beginnings. And for anyone toiling on their first book -- especially while taking care of little kids -- Lyn's story should give you hope. Her first novel La Belle Christiane is now available on Amazon and Nook sites for .99 cents. Print copies  are also available.   Here's a short summary of this historical romance set in the 1770s:
[image error] "Can the beautiful daughter of a French courtesan find a love that lasts for a lifetime? Beautiful Christiane Pelletier is next in a line of French courtesans. Her family has been favorites through the reigns of two monarchs. But the winds of change are sweeping Europe, and after her mother's violent murder, Christiane flees France with her renegade father. Leaving wealth and privilege behind, she survives the Canadian wilderness and later finds herself involved in the burgeoning American Revolution. But through all the changes, one man lingers in her memory. Once he was her friend; now he has become her enemy. Will he also become her destiny?"Also, check out Lyn's website where she offers tips on writing and self-publishing. 
First Book, Now Available                     by Lyn CoteWhen I began writing my first manuscript, I literally ran after my two toddlers with a clipboard in my hand and wrote whenever they paused! I wrote that story without knowing anything about writing or marketing fiction. In fact, I told myself just to write the book and then I'd think about polishing and marketing it. The thought of that was overwhelming at that time. It took me three years of writing to finish my first manuscript-1,000 handwritten pages. Whew!I found out that while it garnered interest from agents and editors, it never found a publisher. I think that's because there are "unwritten" rules for inspirational fiction and I didn't know them or follow them. I still think it's a good story and I've revised it and improved it once more. And now it's FINALLY available in digital and print. I did this because I didn't want it to sit ignored in my files forever. So now I'll let the readers decide whether it deserved to be published or not. I hope you agree with me and let others know about it. Thanks.                               -- Lyn
                                                        First page excerpt from Chapter One

British Canada, July 1774Tonight, I'll lie beside some stranger as his wife. Christiane blinked away the bright morning sunlight but could not blink away the dread. Once again she had embarked on another journey that would change her life. She sat between her Algonquin father Shaw-nee-awk-kee and his son in a birch bark canoe. To the rhythm of the dipping paddles, they were gliding farther down the Ottawa River. In the cramped space, she hugged her knees to herself and pressed her forehead against her tattered skirt. She glanced sideways into the remorseless current, wishing for time, for control. But instead, the river, shimmering with molten sunlight, gave her glimmers of the past--candlelight on silver, soft lace against skin, frosting on the tip of the tongue. But she'd fled France with her father, here to Canada and then. . . She thrust all thoughts of the past year aside. She had to face today. Tonight, I'll be some stranger's wife. The thought brought fear, a rush of sensation—as if the bottom of the canoe, her protection, parted, and she was plunged into the cool water. She fought her way to the surface of this feeling, gasping for air, pushing down panic. She pressed her face harder against her knees. I will not shame myself. Ever.

A dear friend is expecting her first baby, while writing ...

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A dear friend is expecting her first baby, while writing her first novel.

The baby news filled me with joy, the kind that put tears in my eyes. But the news also led me to think about threading that needle known as Motherhood and Writing.

I want my friend to cherish motherhood, and I want her to finish her novel.

With two kids, six years homeschooling, five published novels, and ten-thousand readings of "Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?," I almost feel qualified to offer some advice.

So here's my humble five-point offering to every mom serving in the happy trenches while trying to write.

1. Don't quit writing. 

There will never -- never -- be a good time to write. Never. Ever. Stop thinking the world will someday agree with your compulsion to put words on paper. The world doesn't care. But YOU care and frankly, God cares because God made you a writer.

If that last statement strikes you as pretentious, congratulations. Feel free to pick up your glue-gun and complete all those Martha Stewart projects. You're not a writer.

Meanwhile, we blessed wretches will continue to comb through our minds, searching for meaning and wrestling with words.

Writers need to write. Need, not want. The same way some birds were designed to fly south every winter whether they feel like it or not, writers were designed to translate thoughts into words. You will know if you're among that flock if deep down inside, you feel like you might suffer some kind of death if you don't write. Soul, spirit, emotion. Maybe even physical death. Frank McCourt once said that he wrote "Angela's Ashes" because if he didn't, he would "die howling."

The sooner a writer recognizes this built-in need, the sooner they become a productive person rather than a garden-variety dysfunctional oddity understood by precisely nobody.

2. You're a mom. Make it manageable.

Motherhood comes first.

Scratch that.

Your husband comes first, even after baby arrives. Then baby. Then writing. Break that order and you'll build an idol.

But because of where it stands on the totem pole, mom-writing needs manageable goals. When my kids were toddlers and took naps, I placed a note card over my computer that read "500 words an hour." My daily goal. With a background in newspapers, my five hundred words seemed like a cake walk. Some days I was surprised by 1000 words. Other days I could squeak out six. (Yes, six: "My brain has turned into Jello.")

But on those difficult days -- both in motherhood and writing -- remind yourself that this glorious gift of life will only make you a better writer, eventually. If you don't quit. I guarantee this. With motherhood, a heart grows new chambers of understanding. It only improves your writing.

If you don't quit.

3. If somebody understands your blessing/affliction, cherish them.

My first novel,"The Stones Cry Out," arrived like a thunderclap. The story came complete with a cast of characters, a setting, and a plot.

Unfortunately, the timing couldn't have been worse: I was seven months pregnant with my first child.

But God's timing doesn't resemble man's timing. And the gift seemed perishable. So, despite the gasps of horror from polite ladies who probably had good intentions, I waddled into the FBI's forensic mineralogy department, asking questions about murder and mayhem.

Only a handful of people understood why I was starting a novel when it looked like my water was about to break. My husband. My dad who was battling stage-four throat cancer. My mom who was also a writer. And an elderly uncle who once attempted to write a novel but quit -- he really understood.

The rest of the world treated me as though the novel was a betrayal of the child in my womb.

Fourteen years later, not much has changed. The other day, a homeschool mom asked me in a baffled tone of voice: "Why do you even feel the need to write these books -- I mean, are you making a ton of money or something?"

4. You can answer those questions, but it probably won't help.

Any explanation will make you sound like a televangelist who can't afford glittery clothes ("God called me"), or just plain weird ("The day doesn't seem quite real until I write about it.")

Most people won't understand. But writers don't live an either-or existence. They live two lives. Here, and not here. Experiencing life, and imagining it.

Yes, I know. I just described a dual personality.

But as Dorothea Brande writes in her essential little book "Becoming a Writer," the writer's double existence is not a bad thing:

"A dual personality, to the reader who has a number of half-digested notions about the constitution of the mind, is an unlucky fellow who should be in a psychopathic ward; or, at the happiest, a flighty hysterical creature. Nevertheless, every author is a very fortunate sort of dual personality, and it is this very fact that makes him such a bewildering, tantalizing, irritating figure to the plain man of affairs who flatters himself that he, at least, is all of a piece."

5. All interruptions come from God.
As though stating the case for me, my kids just knocked on my office door. They want pancakes. They want to start their school work. They want me.

And I am happy to go.

Very happy to go.

I can always write about it later.

My husband recently met one of his harmonica heroes, Char...

My husband recently met one of his harmonica heroes, Charlie Mussselwhite. That's Musselwhite on the left, and Hunk of Italy on the right. (Cute, aint he?)

If you haven't heard Musselwhite's harmonica, you haven't heard the Blues. I could say the same for my hubby, only he's not as famous. Yet.

Musselwhite is rumored to be the inspiration for Dan Akroyd's "Blues Brothers" character. More than just a musician; Musselwhite's an artist.

You can see that artistry in the simplest things. Take the liner notes on his most recent CD, "The Well."

"This tune," he writes of the title song, "tells my story in a nutshell about what happened when baby Jessica McClure fell into a well in Texas. I was struck by the courage of this child at the bottom of the well with a broken arm, singing nursery rhymes to herself. Suddenly my alcohol problem/addiction seemed very minor in comparison to her life and death struggle. I decided as a prayer for her, I would show some bravery too and not drink until she got out of the well. When she was rescued three days later, I was out of the well, too. I haven't had a drink in 22 years."

The story is amazing all on its own. But check out those undertones, resonating like minor keys. Don't we tend to fall into wells of our own digging? Doesn't God stand ready with the rescue crew, if we'll just admit we messed up and need help? And isn't it telling that Jesus waited for a truly messed up woman at a well in order to tell her about "living water"?

Maybe I'm reading too much into it (hey, I'm a writer). But then again, maybe not.

Here's Musselwhite playing the instrument God put in his hands. The song is "Christo Redemptor" from his very first album.

Wait for the harp to come in. And enjoy.

The other night, my husband got to meet one of his harmon...

The other night, my husband got to meet one of his harmonica heroes, Charlie Mussselwhite. That's Musselwhite on the left, and Hunk of Italy on the right. (Cute, aint he?)

If you haven't heard Musselwhite's harmonica, you haven't heard the Blues. I could say the same for my hubby, only he's not as famous. Yet.

Musselwhite is rumored to be the inspiration for Dan Akroyd's "Blues Brothers" character. More than just a musician; Musselwhite's an artist.

You can see that artistry in the simplest things. Take the liner notes on his most recent CD, "The Well."

"This tune," he writes of the title song, "tells my story in a nutshell about what happened when baby Jessica McClure fell into a well in Texas. I was struck by the courage of this child at the bottom of the well with a broken arm, singing nursery rhymes to herself. Suddenly my alcohol problem/addiction seemed very minor in comparison to her life and death struggle. I decided as a prayer for her, I would show some bravery too and not drink until she got out of the well. When she was rescued three days later, I was out of the well, too. I haven't had a drink in 22 years."

The story is amazing all on its own. But check out those undertones, resonating like minor keys. Don't we tend to fall into wells of our own digging? Doesn't God stand ready with the rescue crew, if we'll just admit we messed up and need help? And isn't it telling that Jesus waited for a truly messed up woman at a well in order to tell her about "living water"?

Maybe I'm reading too much into it (hey, I'm a writer). But then again, maybe not.

Here's Musselwhite playing the instrument God put in his hands. The song is "Christo Redemptor" from his very first album.

Wait for the harp to come in. And enjoy.

I wrote the following blog post for Novel Rocket&nbs...

I wrote the following blog post for Novel Rocket (if you haven't subscribed to that excellent feed, do it now. Especially if you're hoping to learn more about writing fiction). 




       I can still remember the ringing telephone.
 Coming through the door -- beach sand still in my hair -- I lunged for the phone, always certain somebody has just died.
     But it was my editor at Revell.
     "You won!" she exclaimed.
     It will sound disingenuous but the truth often embarrasses: I didn't know what she was talking about. Several significant moments of silence passed. Then an idea dislodged itself from my beach brain. 
     Oh. Christy Awards. This weekend.
     My first novel, "The Stones Cry Out," was nominated for best first novel.
     "What's wrong?" the editor asked, as the silence stretched on.
     "Nothing."
     "You're probably in shock. Isn't it great news?!"
     Yes.
     And no.
     Despite the nomination, I never expected to win. Given the great novels competing in the same category, I didn't think my book would win.
    Actually, I didn't think it should win. 
     My first novel reminded me of a knock-kneed colt struggling to stand up on its own feet. That it would win an award like the Christy seemed absurd. I wondered if a mistake had been made.
     Ever since, I've felt a certain ambivalence about winning that honor. I figured my problem was pride (I'm human; there is always pride). But four novels later, I can see some sense in my ambivalence. And I can share three important lessons. 

One: Pray that your first book is not your best. 
     Despite the award in my hand, I remained busy grieving my novice abilities. Fortunately, God countered the sackcloth-and-ashes with a spirit of perseverance. I decided the only way to get better was to keep going.
     "Most people won't realize that writing is a craft," said Katherine Anne Porter. "You have to take your apprenticeship in it like anything else."
     Of course, you will find your own ways of enduring the early apprenticeship, but one of my favorites was The Tour of First Novels.
     One day, at my most frustrated, I stormed into the library and checked out first novels by my favorite authors. Within hours, relief was humming through my veins. Not that schadenfreude sort of relief, but something productive.
     Most of those first books were bad. Some even stunk. And none matched their author's later output.
     Like most first novels, those first books read like seed pods yearning to bloom. 
    Or: knock-kneed colts struggling to stand. 

Two: In the modern era of e-books, the first book might not be so final. 
     Some months ago, the copyright to "The Stones Cry Out" returned to me.
     Here came my colt, running for home.
     Unfortunately, temptation was riding with it.
     The rationalization went like this: It won a Christy. Received good reviews. Launched a successful series. You should just put it on Kindle. As-is….
     But we're called to be workers who need not be ashamed, "rightly dividing the word of truth." (2 Tim 2:15). Since I still didn't love my first book, it was my responsibility to do something about it.
     With prayers for humility and discernment, I proceeded from Page 1 and continued to the end, rounding out scenes, adding flesh to characters, trying to bring the story closer to what followed in the rest of the Raleigh Harmon series.
     And when "The Stones Cry Out" was put on Kindle, I didn't hesitate to add the Christy Award honor.
    Because it looked different to me now.
     Not only for the new work done, though it played a large part. The difference was lesson three.
      I didn't write that first book to win an award; I am grateful for it. But I am also grateful that the honor didn't fill me with (more) pride. The simple fact is, I write because God made me a writer. That's what I'm supposed to do. Any honors, awards, or leading positions on the best-seller list can only be viewed through the lens of grace.
     Completely undeserved: And yet, there it is.
     And the apprenticeship carries on accordingly.