Writing, Music, and Emotions

Writing for me is a mood. I can sit down anytime and write, but I write my best when I am in the mood of my characters. Music soundtracks constantly fill my background throughout my day, giving me fodder for my characters and their plot lines. How to Train Your Dragon is one of my favorites. A significant portion of my stories were written to that soundtrack.

            I am one fourth Swedish, one fourth Norwegian, and one half mutt, which I think is why I enjoy Scottish/Viking music. The little bit of Viking madness running through me shows up in my audacity to decide to write books without any prior knowledge or training. It also makes me confident that I CAN write something worth reading. I don’t need anyone to tell me whether or not my story is good. I think my story characters often feed off of this emotion. Perhaps in the beginning they don’t believe in themselves, but by the end they are sure of their identity.

            Music is what keeps me and my characters sane. As long as I have a good playlist to keep me going, I can write for hours at a time. If I go too long without listening to a good soundtrack, my story suffers. My poor characters become dry, and my world building is flat. Yet when the music runs they quickly fly off the page, taking on a life of their own.

            The volume that I listen to music is also important. For me, 2022 was the summer of Top Gun. I absolutely BLASTED the original soundtrack nearly everywhere I went. I spent a great deal of time thinking about my latest story character. She’s a flawed heroine running from the ghosts of her past, like Pete Mitchell. Redemption is going to be her theme, just like Maverick must realize in Top Gun.

            Not everything is sunshine and fast jets though, in my second book some of the main characters have lost loved ones dear to them. When I wrote that storyline, I had gone through the recent loss of several of my own family members. I could write sympathetically to my leads as I was suffering through my own grief. Using those emotions was an opportunity to grow as a writer, to let my characters be an extension of my processing. Again, music was a huge part of my writing. Go Rest High on That Mountain by Vince Gill played over and over as I wrote. Tough to wrestle with, but a positive experience in the end.

            For me, writing is not just one single thing. It’s not just my imagination. It’s music, places I’ve been, movies I’ve watched, books I’ve read and the people around me. Throw all of these together in the crazy place called my brain, and stories start to appear.

Nature and Worldbuilding

Worldbuilding

            People often ask me how I come up with the places and ideas for my stories. Frankly, I find it extremely easy to come up with ideas. The outdoors is where I draw most heavily from. Hunting, horses, and fishing are deeply woven into me. For me, the year goes by as seasons of what I can do outside. Spring is turkey hunting in the Black Hills of South Dakota, summer is horseback riding and fishing, fall is the start of a marathon of deer hunting that runs from October first through the end of December. Then winter hits and I take a break.

            When I create a world in my head, I draw from places that I know. The Black Hills of South Dakota is the place that I take most heavily from. Recently, I was thinking about why that is…why a state I don’t even live in and only visit a couple of times of the year? I do have family out there, but I have family other places too.

            I still don’t have a great answer, but one thing I realized is that I KNOW the Hills. At least the places that I hunt. There’s a phrase that goes your knower knows what it knows, and I have to say that is one hundred percent true for how I feel about the Black Hills. I KNOW the mountains, the grass, the birds, the air, the soil. I can feel them in my bones. They don’t surprise me. I understand them, which sounds silly, but it’s true!

            When I imagine the mountains in my fantasy world, I don’t see the Rockies, I see the Black Hills. We have unofficial names for many of the places that we hunt; God’s View, Little Round Top, the Altar, the Pond With the Dead Tree, Transmission (Trany) Alley, Windmill With the Purple Flowers being some of the most entertaining. I see the grassy prairie flat of the Altar running into it’s deep canyon when I envision the Wilds of Arda. The top of God’s View is how I envision the view from the Tiered Mountain of the dwarves.

            Place after place speaks to me. Trany Alley is a rocky nightmare to drive your truck through. In my stories, I see it as a challenging maze of rocks that my characters must scale to reach their destination. In my stories, Lonrach Lake, next to Amaroth, comes from Angostura Reservoir at the bottom of the Hills.

            Then there are the sounds and smells. I hear the birds happily trilling away, bluebirds sitting on a fence post or the noisy meadowlark singing his proud song. The shriek of a red-tailed hawk above me makes me dream of dragons bellowing in the sky. The smell of sagebrush after a rain is so strong in my mind, I can taste it just thinking about it.

            All of this goes into how I feel about the world of my stories. I know I am far from a perfect author! But I hope that I can give my readers a taste of the places that I love through my stories.

The Good Soldier

What makes a good soldier? Is it how well they are trained? Is it bravery? Is it the ability to carry out orders no matter what? Is it actions or what is on the inside of a solider that really counts? We idolize and set up soldiers as heroes in our society. Rambo and Captain America are some of our favorite fictional characters to shower our affections on. We love these two because they embody everything that we as people are not. We make movies and write books about some of the bravest soldiers that our country has produced in real life, putting them forth as someone to be emulated.

I have read and watched my fair share of these. One of my personal favorites is the movie and book 13 Hours that tells the story of the Benghazi debacle in the operators own words. Their story is incredible. You simply cannot watch the movie or read the book without being profoundly moved. They were real heroes, but in their own eyes they were simply doing their job, trying to stay alive and trying to protect those around them. They would tell you that they are not necessarily proud of all the things they have done. Their job was to kill or be killed, to protect at all costs, and to never surrender. They completed their job and saved many lives, but does that make them good?

There is also a dark side to the soldier. What about the soldier that is in the military because there was no other place for him or her? The troublemakers that cannot exist with the rest of society because they are too brutal for it? The killers who love to kill, the angry who love to give back the pain they received, the haters who love to hate, they also exist in the ranks of the soldier. They too are well trained and carry out their orders, they might even receive a medal for their efforts, but does that make them good?

I ponder this from the perspective of Christianity. As Christians we are all soldiers of the cross. We fight a battle between good and evil, light and dark. Long have I struggled with watching others who profess to be Christians commit horrific atrocities against believers and unbelievers alike. I cannot fathom what would ever make someone who loves Christ do and say such terrible things, yet I know within myself I struggle with the same sin issues.

I freely admit that I have a much easier time forgiving an unbeliever of slights and hurts against me than I do my fellow Christian. My conscience bellows, “They should know better!” which is true, they should know better. However, they are still dealing with their own sin nature as part of the renewing of their minds. None of us will be made perfect until we are in Heaven with our Father. To stand between us in the meantime is grace. Grace is the one thing that frustrates me to no end, yet at the same time I am grateful beyond measure for it because without grace I would be sentenced to eternal death.

Then there is God’s love. Something else that I do not understand! How can the Supreme Creator love something like me? Or anyone else for that matter! I am not a good soldier. I march forth into battle, but for all the wrong reasons, pride, anger, envy, revenge, religion, fear of others, my community standing, and simply my own stubbornness. How could God possibly use someone like me? And even more important why would He make even the slightest effort to reach out to me?

He does it because He loves me. I cannot fathom that, but it is nonetheless true! God sent His only Son to die and take my punishment for all my evil and foolishness. And then to top it off Jesus rose from the dead to give me hope and a chance at true life! Again, why? Because of love, love that never ends and does not fail.

To show us His never ending love, He sent to us part of Himself, the Holy Spirit which indwells in us. Jesus’ death and resurrection gave us complete access to the Father no matter what. The Holy Spirit then fills us with the love of the Father so that we can love others, even the most unlovable. It sounds so simple! We can just let the Holy Spirit do all the work right? Wrong! We are at war within ourselves. God gave us free will and our own will wants nothing to do with His Spirit.

Head knowledge must become heart knowledge. Mind, spirit, and soul must all surrender to the Holy Spirit. As Christian soldiers this happens through the process of sanctification, renewing of the mind the Bible calls it. As we allow the Spirit to work on us, we begin to understand God’s love more and more. We learn to understand the true meaning of, “hate the sin, but love the sinner,” as it applies to both saved and lost. When we let love, God’s love, change us then we finally become the good soldier.

Thrive

We were made to thrive. We were created to be curious, to explore, to conquer, to puzzle, to sing, to love, and to live. Our current situation has caused many people to no longer thrive the way they should. Fear of a virus looms over us and lurks in the corners. Fear sucks away the joy of life until we sit meekly at its feet ready to obey its every whim.

This should not be! As a Christians we should instead turn to the many verses in the Bible that say, ‘do not fear’. A favorite of mine come from 2 Timothy 1:7 For God has not given us a spirit of fear, BUT a spirit of power, of love, and of self-discipline. That’s so encouraging… and sobering. If fear does not come from God where does it come from? It comes from Satan. He wants to destroy you.

You stay home, you social distance, you follow all the rules, you’re physically healthy…yet you’re still afraid. Is this really living? No! We were made to thrive and grow. It hurts my heart to see so many people just trying to ‘get by’ until we are cleared to go back to our normal lives.

We are given a limited number of days on this earth. We don’t know if our life ends today or in fifty years. Life is a precious gift, use it! At this point I think that most of us have gone through a bit of a grieving process for the freedoms and lives that we have lost. That’s healthy, we need to process, but we also shouldn’t stay stuck there.

Now is the time to stop settling, to enjoy the moment, and to look ahead. Let’s use a kingdom mindset instead of an earthly one. Ask God for the joy and peace that you are lacking. He loves to answer our prayers! Pray for the church body as a whole. Pray for a revival of hearts and renewed commitment to Him. Look for opportunities to share His love even when you’re at home by blessing a spouse or other family member. It may be a simple as a phone call.

Bake a cake, grill out, read a book, start exploring your local forest or park, don’t settle! Don’t make the best of the situation, make it the BEST situation.

Early Mornings

There is something peaceful about waking up before everyone else and rising with the sun. At one of the camps I worked at, it was the responsibility of the summer wranglers to bring the horses in every morning from the far pasture. Since the other two girls who were wranglers were not as in love with waking up early as I was, I got the job.

            Every morning I got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and headed for the barn to get there around six am. I usually threw on a sweatshirt too, in order to keep off the morning chill and dew from the trees. I’d walk down the gravel road to the barn with my hands in my pockets praising God for another beautiful day.

            I’d get to the barn, punch in the access code, and head straight for the little kitchenette. I had a stash of muffins and grape juice hidden away just for me. I’d slug back some juice, grab a muffin and walk back through the barn to open up the heavy garage door. With the muffin stuffed in my mouth I would wrestle the door up with a heave.

Then I would swing a leg over the four wheeler we left parked inside every night. Starting it was tricky. This was always the hardest part of my morning. The four wheeler was old and persnickety. It had a mind of its own and had to be babied to get it running. Setting the muffin on the seat in front of me, it would take several tries before the cranky old thing ran.

            Finally, it would start and off I went, muffin clutched in one hand and the other on the handle bars. The horses were rarely in a close pasture. Which meant I had to zig zag up a very steep hill through the woods and cross a number of open pastures to get to them. It was heaven on earth.

            My goal was always to get my muffin eaten before I reached the bottom of the big hill. I needed both hands on the handle bars of the four wheeler so the muffin had to go! The sun was usually peeping over the horizon by this time, filtering through the trees as I drove carefully up the hill. It was always a balancing act between having enough speed to get up the hill and driving slow enough to avoid hitting a tree. There wasn’t exactly an officially path for me to drive on. But some places were better than others so I tried to stick to where I could weave between trees.

            I tended to get wet from low hanging branches and the trees dripping, but when I eventually made it to the top of the hill the sunrise was always worth it. There’s a verse in the Bible that says, “The heavens declare the glory of God…” Wow is that true! On top of the hill, staring out over the valley below with the sky waking up above me never failed to put me in awe of God’s glory.

The vault of the sky would have the most brilliant colors stretched across it. Vibrant pink’s and red’s fading into gold and then to the clearest blue as the sun rose over the horizon. There’s a moment of every morning when the sun is out, that the whole world seems to glow with a golden light. If you’re not careful you will blink and miss it. The moment when all of creation holds its breath in wonder of God’s splendor. A tiny taste of what heaven is like.

            I always tried to catch this moment, even on the busiest days. To breath deeply the summer air and let the new day wash over me. To let God’s awesomeness be the center and start of my day. Then I would continue on to my task of bringing in the horses. The horses seemed to feel the same way about mornings. Most of the time I would find them sleeping peacefully and grazing quietly. They loved the cool morning air.

Once I got them moving they often kicked up their heels and took off at a dead run for the barn. Watching them buck and caper across the grass never failed to make me smile. God’s critters love to live the life He’s given them.

I sometimes think about those early mornings with the horses. I want to strive to have that joy in my life all the time. Even in trials and sorrow God has joy available for us. We simply have to decide if we will allow Him to fill us with that joy. Sometimes in our lows we feel like joy is far away and impossible to attain. Yet this isn’t true. God has never left you.

We can’t always live on the mountain tops, but God fills us with joy to sustain us through the ordinary and the pain. Live life with joy!

Fac Recte Nihil Timere: Do Right Fear Nothing.

Time

Time slips by so fast. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s true. Our lives are so short. Just the blink of an eye. How am I spending my time? Am I making the most of it? These questions are universal. I think it’s safe to say we’ve all asked them or will at some point in our lives. Our mortality guarantees that we ask questions like these. We have this hunger to be remembered, to make a difference, to really live.

We live, we die, that’s it right? If that’s all there is to life, then we are inconsequential. What a sad ending. But what if there was something more? What if there was something greater than this cycle of life and death? I believe that there is more and the more is Jesus Christ.

As we reflect back on April as May is almost over I think about Easter. It is the time to celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Who is this Jesus? He is the Son of God who came to live a perfect life on earth as a man, human just like us. God sent us his perfect, sinless, son because of his great love for us. We, His greatest creation, were separated from God by our disobedient, lying, cheating, lustful, hateful, and angry ways. Our evil came at a high price, short lives, death, and eternal separation from God.

But God had a plan. A payment for the sin and evil we had committed. He sent His perfect, sin free Son to die the death we deserved. Jesus was a willing sacrifice, taking all the punishment that we deserved upon Himself. He let Himself die a horrible death out of love for us. But that wasn’t the end. He didn’t stay dead. He rose again three days later conquering death. By His resurrection He gave us the opportunity to also live again. 

If we give our lives over to Jesus and repent of our sick, twisted, dying ways Jesus is faithful to forgive our sins. When we claim the gift Jesus offers us, we receive true life. We have purpose and hope. Our finite lives are no longer a breath on the wind. Instead our souls are given eternity to live with the one who loved us enough to lay down His life for us.

Talk about hope! It sure gives me a reason to live a purpose driven life. My goal is to
give glory to God no matter what. I have found that I am the happiest and most
fulfilled when I am centered on Him and serving Him. Proverbs 3:5-6 says,
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.” I want this to
be the cry of my life as time ticks steadily on. I know that I have meaning,
value, and a purpose. I hope that you can know that too.

Mud

Today I came home, and my truck was covered from hood to tailgate in mud. A consequence of where I live. I live in Iowa where the soil is our most valuable resource. It provides the ground, literally, for a multimillion dollar industry called agriculture. This industry feeds the world. But for all its benefits, the resource of soil can every now and then become a bit hazardous.  

Iowa also happens to have all four seasons, Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. With the onset of warm weather and a rainy Spring, soil turns to mud. The frost is pushing up out of the ground turning gravel roads into a boggy nightmare. Add some thunderstorms and you get ruts only the bravest dare to drive a low clearance car through. So if you have to drive anywhere on gravel you can forget keeping your vehicle clean.

As someone who spends a good deal of their time working outside it doesn’t take long to get dirty in the Spring. A splash here, a misstep there, and before you know it you’ve got mud all over. You get used to it after a while. Oftentimes I come home at the end of the day and look in the mirror to find that I’ve had mud spatters on my face all day! 

Mud reminds me of my mistakes in writing. I can start out with something fabulous, but if I let it get watered down then it can turn into a sticky situation. From an overthought storyline to the little spatters of poor punctuation, it can sneak up on you if you let yourself get used to it. 

Learning to see the mud in my writing has at times been a difficult process. But God has been gracious in allowing me to find people to help remove the mud from my writing. The bonus from this is that it keeps me honest in writing and it teaches me to become better at my craft. So thank you God for lessons learned from mud!

Names

Names have power. They are important. They shape our view of the named thing. I hadn’t realized their true significance until I started writing. Some names resonate deeply within us while others are reviled. Names come in all kinds of forms. They are an integral part of every culture we encounter. They range from sacred to flippant. Like the Hebrew name for God, Yaweh, which means I AM, is so holy it is not spoken by the Jews. Ranging to the other end of the spectrum is Gwyneth Paltrow’s daughter named Apple.

What names do you gravitate toward? Do you prefer strong and revered? Or are you a maverick who enjoys bucking the system? As I was writing my book I varied widely in my feelings over the names of my characters. The names of my main characters, Avana and Killian, were the product of much agonizing. Yet some of the other important people like Caleb and Finris, came without hesitation.

 So what do some of these names mean? Avana means, ‘beautiful flower,’ while Killian means, ‘spiritual or church’. Do their names play into my story? Not directly, but knowing the meaning affects my feelings toward my characters and hopefully my readers feelings about them. 

Names can make or break a story, marketing, or even a life. In my first post I talked about thievery. Stealing names is one of my favorite activities! There are so many lovely names out there. And what is it that makes names exciting to me? They tell a story. And I love a good story. So my friends, keep naming!