Hijacked!

I finished up Affinity, first book of my YA Spirit Walker series, with a head swimming full of ideas for the next one. Knee-deep in plot cards and notebooks, I opened an email from my publisher with a special story call out. That's nice, I thought, and brushed it aside knowing my brain was taken up with my current mission. I have limited time and brain cells - 3 girls in the house will do that to you - there was no way I could even think of a different book at this stage.

And then I was hijacked.

It happened somewhere between the shower and putting the kettle on for a cup of tea. Out of nowhere; a title, back page blurb, protagonist and a bubbling excitement that I couldn't ignore. Um, excuse me? What about Spirit Walker 2? But there was Meg, fragile yet feisty, front and center in my mind. And.She.Wouldn't.Go.Away.

So I'm listening. Spirit Walker can wait and it will. 

Friends, I'd like to introduce you to a tiny glimpse of my hijacker:

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Fresh from a spectacular break up and faced with a looming big-O birthday, Meg throws her cautious nature aside and signs up for dance classes. Little does she know that Ballroom will stretch more than her muscles as she is forced to confront her greatest fear...

Right now, I feel like I'm adventuring way off the beaten path, hand-in-hand with my favorite co-author and I wouldn't swap it for anything.

How about you? Have you ever had a book push its way to the front of the queue? I'd love to hear your story.

Yukon - The Perfect Setting

The beginning of my first novel, One Smooth Stone takes place on the Yukon River near Dawson City. It's the perfect setting for the story, which has  characters with rough edges and hard noses, characters tough enough to live in the north.

Yukon. The word conjures images of winter, of dog teams and ice fog, of high mountains and glacier fed lakes and fast flowing rivers. It is all that, but much more. It is a place of 24 hour daylight that produces massive cabbages and broccoli, a place where gold is traded in the stores, a place where people work three jobs in the summertime and still manage to make time for each other. 

But the true magic of the Yukon can only be experienced in the winter. It is in those long winter months that bonds of deep friendship are forged. It is while sitting by a roaring wood stove that stories are shared and copious amounts of coffee and tea are drunk. And it is on days when a stranger arrives at your door in the morning and becomes a best friend by that night that you realize living there is worth it.

The Yukon teaches you to be flexible. Someone may drop by for coffee at ten in the morning and still be there for supper two days later. When it’s sixty-five below there’s not much incentive to leave a warm house. Daily routines are important but when a neighbour needs help to winterize his house or get enough wood cut to last through till spring, that becomes priority number one. When he shows up with a canoe in the back of his truck and says, “the swans are back,” there’s no discussion - you drop what you're doing and head to the lake. Nature takes precedence over almost everything.

And nature always wins. We learned that the day my husband’s boss knocked on our door to ask if our truck would start so they could go to work. It was colder than sixty-five below. We knew that because we couldn’t see the mercury in our thermometer, which read that far down. The guys dug out a coffee can, stuffed it with toilet paper and diesel fuel and lit it on fire before putting it under the oil pan of the truck. Then they covered the hood with a tarp and came back inside, had another cup of coffee and waited.

They tried to start that old Chevy three times. Three times they came back in for more coffee. The fourth time the motor started and I shook my head as they got into the vehicle and pulled out of the driveway. Then they pulled back in. And pulled out again, and back, in and out, in and out. They were laughing as they came back into the cabin. The drive train was frozen solid. They could go back and forth but could not get out of the driveway. Winter won that day, and would win on many more.

Like the day I watched as the sun traveled across the valley toward our cabin. I’d been watching it make that slow trek for weeks and thought that day, finally, it would beam through our windows. But no. It stopped at the edge of our front yard. I almost cried. But a true Yukoner isn’t beaten down by a little darkness. She goes out and finds the sun. The next day I strapped on my cross-country skis and made my way across the valley, meeting the sun half way. I stood for a long time with my face lifted toward it, my eyes closed, my skin soaking it in. When I opened my eyes again I shivered, not with the cold, but with the thrill of the vast wilderness I was part of.

Yukon. It conjures up many images, each one whispering, “North. It’s where you belong.”

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Marcia Lee Laycock is the author of three novels and three devotional books. Find her on the web:Website, Amazon , twitter, Pinterest

and Smashwords

Doughnuts and Books

Last week, some poor teenagers were mugged for the boxes of doughnuts they'd bought at our new Krispy Kreme factory outlet which has just opened in Adelaide. In news reports, the robbers were hailed as the 'Krispy Krooks'. I'm not sure if they've been discovered and apprehended yet, but our city is going crazier over the new outlet than I ever would have expected, just because they are a well-known brand we've never had before.

 On Saturday, my teenage daughter and her best friend got caught up in the hype and decided to make a trip to the factory outlet. They had to catch a bus into Adelaide from the Hills where we live, followed by a tram to the suburb where the shop is situated. They found a line twisting and curling from the shop door way down the road. The girls decided that as they had already spent so long getting there, they might as well join the end of the queue.

The wait turned out to be almost three hours. As they inched closer to the door and into the shop premises, they saw a policeman on the job, striding around eating doughnuts the staff had given him. I don't think there would have been any risk from muggers in a crowd that size. He was probably there just to make the public feel safe. The two girls decided to buy a couple of boxes each, since they'd already put in such a lot of effort.

On the way back to the tram stop, they began feeling nervous that crooks might spring out at them from the shadows, to steal their doughnuts. By the time they'd caught the bus back to the Hills and made it nearly home, the winter night was pitch black and had started to rain. They had covered many kilometres in public transport for their treats.

I couldn't really blame my daughter when she snapped at her brothers not to dig into them straight away. 'You don't know what I've been through today to get these doughnuts. My feet are aching, I've spent heaps of money, and I was cold and bored. You can have some when I say so.'

When we did get a taste, were they any good? Well, I have to be honest and admit that they were okay, but nothing special. Certainly no better than the doughnuts we can buy from our local shopping centre. The boys agreed they were nice but nothing to rave about. If I'd done what the girls did, I might have considered it a bit of a wasted day.

In fact, the loveliest, most delicious cakes and doughnuts I've ever eaten were from an Aussie country town named West Wyalong. It's like a scrub oasis in the middle of New South Wales. We were on a tour of our country with our three children, aged 9, 5 and new born. We stopped to stretch our legs and chanced upon the bakery with these delicious goods. Even though it was 2004, I've never forgotten them. I'm afraid they were far more delicious than those from Krispy Kreme last week, but nobody hears about them.

How true such things are in all of life, including the books we read. We can't help hearing about the books which are at the top of the most well-known publishers' lists, because they tend to spread through the media. Maybe these are the equivalent of Krispy Kreme in the literary world. They are the books which we hear hype about, and can't help having our curiosity aroused. We may find it easy to forget that these are by no means the only books in the market.

I enjoy receiving recommendations of more obscure books from trusted reader friends who tell me, 'I'm sure you'll love this.' And I love stumbling across books I can spread the word about in turn. It is a joy to get stuck into fiction from different nations, which I can pass on to others, saying, 'You really get the feel of the setting from this story,' or 'You'll never think of the place in the same way again.' This blog is a good springboard for such unexpected, excellent discoveries. There are often guests, who let us know about their new books, and regular contributors whose engrossing published novels are set all around the world. The best thing about them is that, thanks to digital purchasing options of the 21st century, they are readily available, unlike the delicious doughnuts from West Wyalong.

Paula Vince is an award-winning author from South Australia. Her contemporary dramas and romances contain elements of mystery and suspense. She enjoys hanging out with her family, homeschooling her youngest son, and making the most of the four distinct seasons in her beautiful Adelaide Hills. Her most recent novel, 'Imogen's Chance' was published in April 2014. For more talk about books with Paula, visit her book review blog. Or catch up with her at her at It Just Occurred to Me

Go To Your Altars by Marcia Lee Laycock

At a recent writing seminar those attending were challenged to write the last few words we would give to the world before we died. A sobering thought. I’d been thinking a lot about altars lately, since I had been doing a Bible study on the ancient tabernacle and how it relates to us today. The study led us to realize that we are now the temple, the place where the Spirit of God resides on this earth. Another sobering thought. 

The Bible study detailed the role of the various altars and furniture used in the tabernacle that was built and carried by the Hebrew people during their time in the wilderness. They were instructed in the construction and placement of the altar of sacrifice, the altar of incense, the table of the bread, the lamp stand and the brazen laver and, most significant of all, the ark of the covenant that sat behind the veil in the Holy of Holies. Each one had a specific purpose. At each altar the priests were to perform specific rites for the atonement of the sins of the nation. 

That led me to wonder – if I am a temple, where are my altars? Do I have an altar of sacrifice - that place where I lay down that which is precious to me as an offering to the Lord? I should do so daily, within the sincerity of my heart. Do I have a brazen laver where I wash myself before entering God’s presence? I should do so on my knees, humbled to know that I can proceed into His presence because of the spilling of His Son’s blood that has washed my sins away forever. Do I have an altar of incense, that place from which praise and prayer and worship emanate? Again, it should be a daily practise, erupting from my mind and my mouth like a fountain. Do I have a table, where the bread, the body of my Lord, is displayed in all its simplicity and glory? Is there a lamp stand, that place that burns with His holy fire that can never be extinguished? I must hold it up high for all to see. And is there an ark in me, a place where the remembrances of God’s faithfulness and holiness are kept? I should cherish them in the depths of my soul, bowing before that mercy seat and acknowledging the forgiveness He has extended to me by His death on that cross. 

These altars all require my service, the death of my own agendas and ambitions, the breaking of my pride and a bowing down to His sovereignty.

So these are my few words, words that I would say to myself and to all of us who are writers of faith  –

Go to your altars; 

the altar of incense, shouting out your praise, your petitions and your songs;

the altar of washing, bathing in His mercy, acknowledging His grace;

the altar of the lamp stand, feeding the flame of faith as a light to the world;

the altar of sacrifice, relinquishing your words, your poetry and prose,

Go to your altars. Lay yourself down.

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Marcia Lee Laycock writes from central Alberta Canada where she is a pastor's wife and mother of three adult daughters. She was the winner of The Best New Canadian Christian Author Award for her novel, One Smooth Stone. Her second novel, A Tumbled Stone was recently short listed in the contemporary fiction category of The Word Awards. Marcia also has two devotional books in print. Her work has been endorsed by Sigmund Brouwer, Janette Oke, Phil Callaway and Mark Buchanan. Abundant Rain, an ebook devotional for writers can be downloaded here. Visit Marcia’s Website

 

Marcia's most recent release - Volume One of Journey to a Strong Tower.

Prince Eghan Lhin is terrified when he is abducted from his father’s castle but finds himself in a safe place nestled in a hidden valley high in the mountains not far from his father’s kingdom. He learns to trust the man who has brought him there and even begins to trust Nara, the heir to the throne of his family’s sworn enemies. But he cannot trust the God they follow. When they are led into the dangerous territory on the other side of the mountains, to restore Nara to the throne, Eghan must learn more than trust, more than courage. He must learn what faith really means.

Are You Marking Time? - M Laycock

My husband and I recently had coffee with some old friends. They are old in the sense that we have known them for a long time, but they are also old in age. They admitted they are starting to slow down, just a little. Then they laughed about how time flies by so quickly. “We seem to mark it by our involvement at church,” they admitted. “What? It’s time for Bible study already? What? It’s Sunday again?” They spoke with enthusiasm and energy about that involvement and about their relationship to their God.

Their comments struck me as something worth noting, since I had just returned from spending a week visiting a retirement home, among people who seemed to be marking time by their stomachs. “Isn’t it time for lunch yet? When will they announce Supper? They should be announcing supper soon.” (They reminded me a little of Merry and Pipin in the Lord of the Rings – “Surely he knows about elevensies?!”). Though I recognized that the capacity of the folks in that retirement home to be productive is now limited by age and infirmities, it saddened me that there was nothing more significant in their lives than what and when they would eat that day.

Sadly, though many of us are limited by neither old age nor infirmity, we sometimes live our lives in a similar way, with little purpose or direction. We mark time by how quickly Friday comes or when our next opportunity will be to indulge in some kind of leisure activity. Days fly by and we neither acknowledge the creator nor delight in what He has provided for us. Weeks fly by and we neglect the things and the people who nourish us spiritually.

Paul, the writer of the book of Philippians recognized the futility of such a life when he said - “their god is their stomach and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things.” That kind of focus leaves us empty and unfulfilled, both spiritually and otherwise. For, as Paul went on to say – “… our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ …” (Phil.3:19-20).

Marking our lives by our stomachs, with a steadfast focus on our own needs and desires, does not satisfy the needs of our hearts and souls. Those deeper needs of life can only be satisfied by relationships, first with God and then with those around us. We are designed that way. As citizens of heaven, we are designed to mark time by God’s clock.

His clock is ticking. We may not have much more time to recognize where our citizenship really lies. Some of us may have no more than the time it takes to read this article.

The Psalmist wrote – “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12). 

How are you marking time?

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Marcia Lee Laycock writes from central Alberta Canada where she is a pastor's wife and mother of three adult daughters. She was the winner of The Best New Canadian Christian Author Award for her novel, One Smooth Stone and also has two devotional books in print. Her work has been endorsed by Sigmund Brouwer, Janette Oke, Phil Callaway and Mark Buchanan. Marcia's second novel, A Tumbled Stone was recently short listed in the contemporary fiction category of The Word Awards. Abundant Rain, an ebook devotional for writers can be downloaded here. Visit Marcia's website