Tag Archives: Christian publishing

A Bah Humbug Writer’s Wish List (and a giveaway!)

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A Bah Humbug Writer’s Wish List (and a giveaway!)

(This post is part of a blog parade! Check out other writers marching along at www.wordservewatercooler.com.)

The assignment to write a blog post in the form of a writer’s wish list for the WordServe Water Cooler, a community of agented authors encouraging, engaging, and enriching each other through their writing journey, as a part of the WordServe Literary Agency (the wonderful agency that represents my work) couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Why, you ask?

OK, I’ll tell you.

It’s a bad time for a writer’s wish list because I am feeling a bit bah humbug about the modern-day writing life lately. When it comes to putting pen to paper (or in my case finger to keyboard) I recently have started to morph into a female, 2012 version of the crab master himself,  Ebenezer Scrooge, minus the stellar financial prowess, the extensive facial hairs (although I do have a couple), and the ability to make young children cry (again, my children may object to this last one).

Why so crotchety?

Because I am tired of all the extraneous work required to become a published author.

These days, it seems that men (and women) will not be published by writing alone.

Oh no, we need to Tweet, and have a Facebook Fan page, blog (and of course, this ravenous writer eager to be entitled author has cleverly linked you to all of her social media addresses), and get pictures of ourselves leaning against brick walls, attempting to look intelligent, yet kind, knowing, capable. Something like this …

Thanks to my lovely friend Christine from Christine Kay Photography for achieving a suave writing look for me.

I’m tired. And I am not doing a good job of balancing all this platform hoopla with the thing I actually love to do: write.

You caught me on an off day (shocker, I know. I never have off days!). Therefore, here is my not so encouraging, enriching, engaging writer’s wish list:

Ahem …

My writer’s wish list includes:

1. Introversion. If you want to be a serious writer, then you must abstain from copious amounts of people for the majority of your life. Hide in a cave somewhere and write. Spend so much time by yourself that you actually develop a head twitch if you are with people for too long.

2. Stacks of real life, honest to goodness books. I must admit, I own a Kindle Fire and I actually love it … A lot. But this is my writer’s wish list, and if space, time, and money weren’t an issue, I would own oodles of books, beautifully written, astounding books, and on hard days, create a little book nook to hide out in until the storm passed.

3. The implosion of Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and any other social media medium that sucks away my writerly time. (Insert: It is the social media’s problem, not mine. I repeat, not mine.) Don’t get me wrong. I frequent these venues. I appreciate catching up with friends from high school and finding out what some lady I would rather not friend but was too polite to ignore had for supper last night, but just imagine. Back to a world where you had to call someone on the phone, or get in the car and see them, or write a postcard.

Sigh. I know we aren’t going backwards, that social media double and triple lives are probably here to stay, but in my bah humbug writer days, I’d just assume be done with it all and just, well, write.

4. A martini shaker and a corkscrew. Come on! This is a writer’s wish list. Guess I better include a bottle opener.

5. A publisher stumbling upon my rather pithy and witty blog posts, or tweets, or Facebook stati and finding my cell number, calling me right away, and offering me a three book contract with a hefty advance that would pay off my family’s bills (read: twelve-year old’s braces) and leave me enough every month to hire someone else to clean the toilet.

6. And Jesus. I am a Christian, and I really do love God and am flabbergasted that he loves me, so I’ll include Jesus. I’ve learned that in Christian circles, whenever you are asked a question and don’t know the answer, just say Jesus. You can’t go wrong with that name.

OK, so that’s it. I could come up with more on my list, but pro-bloggers claim that a good blog post should be around 500 words, and I am already over 700 which probably messes up some algorithm somewhere on the internet.

Bad blogger.

But hopefully, one day, God willing, good writer.

Here’s my giveaway:

Leave a comment, link up to this fantabulous post, tweet, you know, do all that stuff I just ragged on, and get a chance to win an  Ebenezer Scrooge box of writer stuff (stationary, nice pens, a worthwhile read, perhaps a corkscrew, and whatever else flips my lid at Home Goods.)

The giveaway ends at MIDNIGHT on December 24. The winner will be announced on Christmas Day through randomnumbers.org. Have fun!

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Wanna see other WordServe Literary Agency Author’s lists and their giveaways?

1. Lucille Zimmerman
Blog Link: http://www.lucillezimmerman.com/2012/12/10/ape-author-publisher-entrepreneur-how-to-publish-a-book-by-guy-kawasaki-shawn-welch-a-book-review/
Prize: A chance to win a free copy of APE: Author, Publisher, Entrepreneur

2. Janalyn Voigt
Blog Link: http://janalynvoigt.com/one-authors-christmas-wish
Prize: A chance to win scrap booking software and an autographed copy of DawnSinger.

3. Kimberly Vargas
Blog Link: http://www.kimberlyvargasauthor.com/?p=241
Prize: A chance to win one of ten autographed copies of Gumbeaux.

4. Cheryl Ricker
Blog Link: http://www.cherylricker.com/2012/12/smells-and-whistles/
Prize: A chance to win one of three copies of A Friend in the Storm.

5. Jordyn Redwood
Blog Link: http://jordynredwood.blogspot.com/2012/12/wishing.html
Prize: A chance to win one of three personalized copies of Proof.

6. Melissa K. Norris
Blog Link: http://melissaknorris.com/?p=1351
Prize: A chance to win an electronic copy of Pioneering Today.

7. Gillian Marchenko
Blog Link: http://wp.me/p2Ds6m-zA
Prize: An Ebenezer Scrooge box of writerly accoutrements.

8. Dr. Rita Hancock
Blog Link: http://edensfreedomsisters.ning.com/profiles/blogs/the-eden-diet-joins-a-blog-parade-find-out-how-to-win-dr-rita-s-b
Prize: A chance to win one autographed copy of Radical Well-being–A Biblical Guide to Overcoming Pain, Illness, and Addictions and a chance to win one of three electronic copies of The Eden Diet.

9. Karen Jordan
Blog Link: http://karenbarnesjordan.com/a-writers-wish-list-grace-gifts
Prize: A chance to win a copy of Heavenly Company: Entertaining Angels Unaware by Cecil Murphey and Twila Belk.

10. Kelli Gotthardt
log Link: http://www.kelligotthardt.com/1/post/2012/12/writers-wish-list.html
Prize: A chance to win one of three Christian yoga DVDs from Yahweh Yoga.

11: Jan Dunlap
Blog Link: http://jandunlap.com/2012/12/the-wishlist-of-a-writer/
Prize: A chance to win “Cozy Moment” gift pack: a Christmas mug, notepad and pen, a signed copy of my newest mystery A Murder of Crows, and two Murder of Crows tea towels.

12: Cindy Dagnan
Blog Link: http://cindydagnan.com/cindy-sigler-dagnan/2012/12/14/one-writer%E2%80%99s-wish-list/
Prize: A chance to win a copy of Hot Chocolate for Couples, and some gourmet hot cocoa.

13: Anita Brooks
Blog Link: http://brooksanita.com/a-writers-fantasy-wish-list
Prize: A chance to win one of three signed copies of Moments of Grace.

And WordServe Literary Agency is giving away three packages at the Water Cooler:

Prize Package #1:
Kathi Lipp
1. The Husband Project
2. The Me Project
3. The Marriage Project

Prize Package #2:
1. Bees in the Butterfly Garden: Maureen Lang
2. Pieces of Silver: Maureen Lang
3. The Falcon and the Sparrow: M.L. Tyndall

Prize Package #3:
Tim LaHaye and Craig Parshall: The End Series
1. Edge of Apocalypse
2. Thunder of Heaven
3. Brink of Chaos

Be sure to leave a comment on any blog where you would like a chance to win the prize. If you leave a message here at gillianmarchenko.com, you’ll be entered in the Ebenezer Scrooge Writer box of fun.

Merry Christmas!

A place in the publishing world for my book about Down syndrome?

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Photo by Christine Kay Photography

A place in the publishing world for my book about Down syndrome?

(WARNING: I wrote this post for me because I needed the reminder today.)

(Note: This post would pair well with Michael W. Smith’s Place in this World circa 1990 (come on, you know you love that song!) or a more sophisticated choice, Somewhere from West Side Story.) 

I wrote a memoir about the birth of my daughter Polly, and her diagnosis of Down syndrome while our family lived in Ukraine as missionaries.

And now I am trying to get it published.

I spent four years writing the book. I had to learn about the craft and grow my writing muscles. During those years the manuscript was professionally edited twice.

Then it took nine months, a lot of prayer, and support from my husband and kids, research, countless emails and blog posts, Facebook updates, tweets, and two writing conferences to land an agent.

Currently, the book is being pitched to publishers. There is interest in the project, and there has been rejection.

I live in the tension of trusting God, writing other things, and picking at my fingers because of nerves.

When I lie still and close my eyes, if the kids aren’t around, and my world is silent for a moment, I find the nerve to ask myself:

Is there a place in the publishing world for my book about Down syndrome?

Memoirs are hard sells in the industry.

In the last few years several books about Down syndrome have been published (Amy Julia Becker’s “A Good and Perfect Gift,” Kelle Hampton’s “Bloom,” George Estreich’s, “The Shape of the Eye ”.)

When an editor sees my book proposal, he or she may be hard pressed to understand how another memoir about Down syndrome would be worthwhile to acquire when other great books cover this topic.

But my memoir is different, because it is mine.

I believe each of the books listed serve a felt need. I am glad they exist.

But my memoir is different because it is mine. It doesn’t grapple with the notion of perfection. It does not kick butt. It doesn’t portray a person who has it all together. It does not ponder the historical significance of Down syndrome.

It’s about a mother falling on her rear after the birth of her daughter with Down syndrome, and about a God who picks her up.

Is there a place in the publishing world for my book about Down syndrome?

If I am feeling even more brave, I dig way down to  whisper the same question to God.

Here’s what I think God is telling me:

There is a place in the world for your book about Down syndrome.

But know this.

The story isn’t really about Down syndrome.

It’s about motherhood.

It’s about messing up.

It’s about a missionary, a Pastor’s wife, a “professional Christian” (yuck, hate even writing that) who should have handled her daughter’s diagnosis better.

It’s about hiding from your family and your faith in a bottle of Chardonnay.

It’s about your misguided opinion that it was your turn to get off of the professional Christian hamster wheel and hang out in a corner licking your wounds.

It’s about a lifelong fear of brokenness.

Your book isn’t really about Down syndrome.

Your book is about your failure.

And failure is universal.

Your book is about what I do with failure.

Is there a place in the publishing world for my book about Down syndrome?

I think that God is telling me “yes.”

Because there is a place in the publishing world for honesty.

There’s a place in the publishing world for real life to be read on the page.

There is a place in the Christian publishing world for vulnerability and imperfection.

There is a place in a mother’s world to know that others mess up, That it’s OK. That there may even be purpose in that.

There’s a place in my heart to fess up to my mistakes, to learn from them, to laugh at them, and share them with others.

There’s a place in the world that will benefit from the ultraviolet rays my daughter exudes each day.

And so now that I’ve preached this sermon to myself, I’ll get back to work.

(Do you have something you are working on that you are unsure of? I’d love to hear where you are in the process, and what you think God is telling you when you are quiet enough to listen.)

Advice to a mom who wants to start writing

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Mothers who write is a hot topic lately.

Yesterday, I wrote a guest post for Annette Gendler about my writing life with small kids. Last week, I gave away a signed copy of USE YOUR WORDS: A Mother’s Guide to Writing by Kate Hopper, and today I received a message on my Facebook author page from a friend with this question.

The question

Hi Gillian- Can you briefly walk me through the process of writing a book and getting it published? I care for my son 24/7 and I don’t get a paycheck for that and we are practically destitute. I have lived a crazy life and think I might just be able to write a book but I would not know what to do afterwards. Any help would be great! Thanks!

My off the cuff answer because I haven’t had my coffee yet

Hello! Thanks for reaching out to me. I am SO excited that you want to pursue writing. It’s a tough road, but very rewarding.

Here are the first couple things that popped into my head for a mama with a desire to write.

1) Just start writing. Seriously, this is the best advice and the most difficult, b/c we are busy moms, often times energy and money are both hard to come by, and we have these kids around who, frankly, don’t seem too happy that we are paying so much attention to our computers. Mary DeMuth says in her book, 11 Secrets to Getting Published that in order to write you most have your BOC (your butt on the chair)! (Sidebar, DeMuth’s 11 Secrets to Getting Published is a fantastic resource as well!)

If you want to write, and someday craft an essay, or a short story, or a book, the best thing you can do is set small goals to write. Kate Hopper says that you don’t have to write every day to be a writer. For moms it’s tricky, but even if you can carve out one hour a week to sit down and put words together, you’ll be on your way.

I have a couple fantastic resources that could help, and they aren’t too expensive.

The first book I thought of being USE YOUR WORDS: A writing guide for mothers by Kate Hopper. I just purchased a copy and it is great. It’s for mama writers of all levels. Each chapter Kate shares her experience of writing a memoir, an essay from another writer, writing prompts and thoughts on the craft.

2) Find a few blogs on writing. This is easy and free. Here are a few of my favorites.

www.AnnetteGendler.com

Annette is my memoir instructor for a class I’ve been a part of for two years. She’s a mother, a writer, and a teacher and her blog posts range from writing prompts, for inspiration to write, to specifics on craft. Right now, Annette is doing a series of guest posts about how mothers find time to write. Check it out!

www.MotherhoodandWords.com

This is Kate Hopper’s website (the author of USE YOUR WORDS). She is instrumental in blazing a trail in the publishing word for serious writing on motherhood.

www.RachelleGardener.com 

(Rachelle is an agent, and every post is remarkable. She also has a search feature on her blog. Utilize it to find specific posts on craft and memoir.)

3) Maybe further down the road, when the time is right, find a class either on-line or in town, or even just a few other moms who want to write, and meet up with them. You can find writing groups on craigslist that are free to join, start your own, or pay a little bit to join one like this: http://www.themomoirproject.com/  My friend does this class and LOVES it.

Even if you don’t have any money or time, you still can write

It sounds like $$ is tight. Boy, can I relate to that. My suggestion would be to give yourself permission to set aside a little time to write. Get Kate’s book (it’s like $15), read blogs on writing,  and then start writing.

And be forewarned, the process to publication is long (I’m finding this out all too well right now). Focus on craft first and let it take as long as it will take to build writing muscles. The best chance to get published is by writing the best story you can write. Once you have it,  well, there are about a bazillion more steps towards publication.

Don’t be discouraged. A lot of people want to write. A lot of people write. But there is always room in the publishing world for another book. Your story matters.

I still encourage you to go for it, if it’s what you want to do.

Please let me know what else I can do to help.

Gillian

What about you? Mama writers – what advice would you add for my friend?

Would someone please buy me a douche bag jar?

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OK, so I know that as a pastor’s wife I shouldn’t use the word douche. But it best sums up my actions this week. I would venture to say that even Jesus has been shaking his head at me, saying, stop being such a douche.

Anyone watch Zooey Deschanel’s new show on FOX called New Girl?

Well, I do, and I find it hysterical.

It’s a show about four roommates, one girl, three guys and all the antics that come along with that kind of living combination. In the pilot, we were introduced to the douche bag jar. Whenever someone did something stupid or offensive or creepy, they had to put a dollar in the douche bag jar. Schmidt, the roommate who likens his body to a temple and does magic tricks as a serious hobby, hands down puts the most in the douche bag jar each episode.

After these last few days, I need a douche bag jar. Could someone please buy me one?

At the beginning of the week I received an email from an agent interested in representing me and my book. “I’m a bit concerned about your platform, though. Is there a way to get your author facebook page up to 5,000 likes?”

Her question astounded me at first, and I responded not directly to her but through a facebook status (which, strangely, is where some of my most creative writing is happening these days) with this:

So, an agent just emailed asking if I can get my author fb fan page up to 5,000 likes. I am currently at 1,133. Hmmm, ideas on how to grow my page x5 asap: 1) sell personal hugs from Polly and Evie for likes, 2) offer my husband’s services to marry and bury free of charge for a like (btw, it’s free, anyway), or 3) have the kids help me make one of those cardboard signs you wear in the street, asking people to like my fan page. Yeah, I like #3 … I’m on to something. I can also write something on there end timesy and offensive. Sure way to sell books.

No, I don’t think this facebook status is douchey. I think it’s funny, (OK, now I see the douche coming out, someone who enjoys her own humor a bit too much). But once I posted this, several well-meaning friends came back with, “Go for it! Get the likes! You can do it!”

Enter douche bag.

I went nuts, posting about my author page, reminding people hourly to ‘like’ me. I started the $100 Amazon gift card giveaway to push the effort along, and then in a last, feeble attempt, video-taped a rap my girls came up with about liking me.

Yesterday, I light went on. Someone posted a funny link about how not to get people to like you on facebook. It was everything I was doing.

And a dear friend wrote me a gentle note:

I have to say that going crazy on facebook does not seem to be your style or true to your inner self. I believe you are a great writer with a universal story to tell… somehow, someway.

Busted.

What a douche bag.

And that my friends, is why I am taking a step back from self-promotion. I am just going to try to focus on craft, and interact on social media like a normal person, try to love those around me, and most importantly, love those whom I can hug and laugh with on a daily basis IN REAL LIFE.

I need someone to buy me a douche bag jar. Stat.

Choose this day whom you will serve …

And try not to be a douche bag.

Memoir excerpt about worry, Down syndrome and Big Macs

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(The following is a brief excerpt from my book KRASATA, a Memoir of Motherhood, Down Syndrome and Surprising Beauty, a story about the birth of our third daughter in the former Soviet Union while we lived there as missionaries and her diagnosis of Down syndrome.)

The first time I had felt the baby move, I was in the bath, looking down at my cushioned middle. The movement was just a slight flutter. She probably wasn’t any bigger than my finger. I loved taking baths, and when I got pregnant I continued my nightly ritual. I just made sure the water wasn’t too hot. The tub was deep, wide. The warm water swirled, while bubbles of Dove soap popped and fizzled around me. Sounds and smells that were unfamiliar to me were muted by the running water. I would lay in the bath and commune with my unborn child. It was us against the world, protected by the pink, high, Pepto Bismol walls of the bathtub. I was happy there, regardless of loneliness or homesickness or frustration over the Russian language.

Around the time I first felt the baby move, Sergei brought home a few books for me to read. Once in a while he’d stumble across a vendor who sold books in English in an outdoor market in Kiev. Whenever he’d come home with something new, it was like Christmas morning.

One book in the pile caught my eye. Jewel by Bret Lott. The story took place in the backwoods of Mississippi in the 1940s. Based on true events, it was about a woman whose sixth child, Brenda Kay, was born with Down syndrome. I read the book in one sitting, ignoring my husband and kids, my usual practice when I had a new book to read.

I thought about my baby, then a size of a Lima bean, growing inside me. The day I finished the book, I was sitting on the bed in our room. The sun was setting. It was the kind of evening in September when life is hazy. The kids were already in bed, even though it wasn’t dark yet. The air was tinted green.

“I couldn’t do it,” I told Sergei. “I could never be the mother of a child with special needs.” Instantly I wanted to take the words back. There was a life in me, paddling around, growing fingers and toes. God was knitting her together in my womb. What if there was something wrong with this baby?

My mom knits. If I close my eyes, I can still see her sitting in a chair in my childhood home. Already in pajamas at 7 p.m., her hair wet from a bath, a Coke sweating on the side table next to her on top of a flimsy paper napkin. I see her hands moving, click, click, click, click. Sometimes she’d unravel a sweater or a scarf that was nearly done. I didn’t see the point after coming so far to start over because of a few mistakes. “Who wants to wear a sweater with mistakes?” she’d say. Later on in her life, she started to ignore mistakes more often. I guess by then she wasn’t afraid of a little imperfection.

My fears about the pregnancy grew with my stomach. The baby started to move less often. By then we knew she was girl. When she became sluggish, all I wanted was to get on a plane and fly back to the States. I was sure the doctor was missing something. My hands were tied, though. It wasn’t easy to just pick up and go home, and no one else seemed to think anything was wrong. When I’d start to worry, I’d go over the facts with Sergei: the baby is growing steadily, although she is small, I felt her kick every day, my doctor thought everything was okay.

But I’d still ache for a doctor and a hospital back in Michigan. Doctors in the States wouldn’t let anything slide under the radar. I would be able to trust them if they told me the baby was fine. Instead, I was stuck here in Ukraine.

Sergei prayed and I worried and time passed. Somehow, each day I convinced myself I was overreacting. I drank lots of orange juice and spent afternoons lying on my left side on the bed, counting kicks. I’d lay there and cry and at some point almost always felt a soft kick to reassure me of her existence.

And I ate a lot of Big Macs.

Mondays were our family days. We’d pile into our white Ford Focus purchased finally after three years of dragging the kids around town on buses and trains. We’d drive to METRO, an indoor mall in Kiev that housed a huge, modern grocery store and a skating rink, outlined by a dozen fast food places, clothing stores and flower shops.

My pregnancy weight packed on but I didn’t care. Every Big Mac tasted like home. We’d sit right up to the skating rink glass and laugh as beginner skaters flailed around on the solid, slippery surface. Elaina and Zoya were appeased to sit still for a while thanks to vanilla soft serve ice cream cones that dripped on to their shirts.

A couple times Sergei took the girls skating. I’d sit alone with my Big Mac and my third little daughter quiet and still inside me and giggle as they crept along, the three of them joined together by locked hands, digging their blades sideways in the ice to move forward. A chord of three strains isn’t easily broken it says in the Bible. Not so for my family. They’d fall on the ice and I’d laugh until I tasted my tears.

(Leave a comment and tell me if/why you think my book should be published. Seriously, I need the love today. Oh, and I will pick a random winner on Friday, March 2nd, my birthday, and send you Jewel by Bret Lott. Beautiful, beautiful novel and my premonition of Polly.)

(Also, for those of who so kindly have said you wanted to read more of my story, check out my post Moving my heart towards him, another excerpt from my memoir about meeting my husband Sergei in Ukraine in 1996 when I took a year off from college.)

Why it is hard to tell the truth in my memoir

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Most of you know I recently completed a memoir and am now querying agents for representation.

So far no one’s bitten. I have received a handful of polite rejections regarding my project. I suspect I will continue to get rejections for a while. There are just too many aspiring writers trying to get their work in print. Some agents claim over 100 new query letters hit their inbox every day. EVERY DAY! And so I trudge on, do my research, send the queries, and continue to work on my craft.

But I have a confession: sometimes when I get a rejection, I breathe a slight little sigh of relief. It’s not that I love rejection ( I mean, come on, I was in Junior High once). It’s not because I want to tell one more person in my life that I have spent over three years writing a book and it seems that no one, as of yet, wants to read it.

I breathe a slight little sigh of relief because of fear. I made a commitment to the story and to God to tell the whole truth about those first years of Polly’s life. In memoir, (as in life) its a no-no to lie. When I got serious about writing our story, I knew that I would have to be real about everything that happened after Polly was born. As a missionary and pastor’s wife, my response to having a child with Down syndrome was much less than Christian. The bottom of my faith easily fell out. I got depressed. I stopped showering. I drank too much Chardonnay. I struggled to love my baby.

Do I really want people to read all of that?

To tell the truth, the answer is no. I don’t want people to read the whole story because I am afraid of what they will think of me. I would rather hide the hard parts of my life and let them think that I scooped up my child with special needs and said a prayer of thanksgiving for her life and moved on. I would rather them think that I am always a woman of faith, worthy of the call to be a child of God.

But Flannery O’Conner says the truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.

I would also add that truth loses its power when altered.

Even though I am afraid, I realize that my story isn’t worth telling if not told in its entirety. The very essence of my memoir’s power (if there is any) is brokenness. The fact that God came in and rebuilt me and my faith and my relationship with my baby after I fell apart is the real story. The redemptive story. And I am convinced the very thing people need to hear to truly get a clear, non-superficial, non-judgmental idea of Jesus.

I used to think of redemption as a one time thing. I believed in Jesus when I was sixteen years old. His payment for my sins on the cross equaled a done deal. I still believe this. It is the very core of my beliefs.

But I also believe that we are all a work in progress. There is a continual need for everyday redemption. The kind of redemption that heals a mother’s heart. The kind that sets a person back up on the wagon after he has fallen off, that helps someone apologize to her kids for freaking out over spilled milk, or causes a shoplifter to put the bra in her purse back on the shelf in Target. A redemption that showed me that the child I was afraid to mother was the exact child I needed to reach depths of joy and wonder otherwise unknown in my life.

So I will keep putting myself out there. If my memoir publishes one day, not everyone will like it. There will be criticism (well deserved, I should add). There will probably even be disappointment. But most importantly, there will be the truth of everyday redemption and unexpected beauty, displayed in the birth of a child with slanted eyes and the widest smile on the planet.

And I think, that’s enough.