inspired | chatting at the sky

the world is begging you to show up

April 25, 2011

There is someone missing in your world, and it might be you. Your world may be mothers of children with autism or musicians living in China or athletes who love to read. Your world could be your aging next door neighbor or that group of women at your church or those two babies at your kitchen table. Only you know who is in your world, and if you don’t, I would encourage you to figure it out quick.

Because they are waiting, begging you to show up. They need you passionate, alive, optimistic, engaged, present. They want you to lead them, to inspire them, to see them. You don’t have to be hope for the whole world. But you can bring Hope to your world. You are alive so that you can live. You are loved so that you can love. You are seen so that you can see. What are you waiting for?

how to make the art

April 13, 2011

It’s 7:45 at night and I eat Raisin Bran out of an over-sized bowl. Dinner for one. The house is quiet except for the rain, and I tap out the rest of chapter 7 just as the cloud cover begins to lift. The trees are black against a barely lit sky, and I consider how fast time flies when you’re making art. Ideas are showing up like bouquets out of baskets; colorful, happy, surprising ideas. And they tip their hats and curtsy their skirts and greet me like kind, new friends waiting to come alive in my company. They are delighted by my attention.

It’s time to stop, finished or not. This time, I meet my personal deadline for the day. I gather up the laundry, fold it in front of Pride & Prejudice (the Keira Knightly version, but still good company). I settle in to the warm couch, content to be alone with my pillows and my thoughts. I think about my word count today: I am now up to 31,000 words on my second manuscript. That feels like a milestone, more so than 10 or 20. I am pleased with the direction. I eat ice cream and grin.

***

I chase three Advil down with cold coffee. It’s a writing day, but the Muse doesn’t know it. She packed up her sparkly bags last Thursday and headed off to Tuscany, stuffing all of my passion and heart into those zipped up bags, tucking away my good ideas deep into her purse. But I’m a professional, and I no longer wait for a Muse to return from her long vacation. Instead, I sit in my chair, face the day, fight the pull of the internet and the dust on the baseboards. And I work. I type out 57 words and they are all ridiculous. For a moment I fear death, because I have written these words and someone may find them when I’m gone and think I was serious. Erase them, and fast! But I don’t, because then I will have nothing to show for the work. And today, the work is more important than my pride.

The phone rings. I get an email from my publisher. I remember my seven year old has no clean underwear. The dog barks incessantly. I have until 1 pm to work, time cut out and planned for writing. I look at the clock, I will write for the next 30 minutes no matter what. And I do, and it’s terrible. Laughable. Embarrassing. I begin to type I have nothing more to say just to see the word count go up. I know I’ll have to start over. I feel discouraged. Cry a little. Keep on writing. Check my email. Wash the dishes. Look at the oven. Think about dinner. Cry again. I fail to meet my personal deadline for the day. But it’s time to stop, finished or not. I pray for the Lord to redeem the time. I believe that he can, I have doubts that he will. But then I remember that he’s done it before. No day of writing is wasted, even a bad one.

***

And that is how it goes, from one writing day to the next. The only predictable thing about a day of writing is that work always has to get done. That is the constant. Everything else will change. And so you have to make your own constants. Show up. Stay there. Work hard. Believe truth. Resist criticism. Embrace today. Surrender yourself to a relentless pursuit of the art.

Repeat.

Tagged art Filed Under a writer, inspired 59 Comments

the work of art

April 11, 2011

Annie finished off an email she sent me on January 1st of this year with these 5 words: “2011. We will make art.” I shared those words with you back in January, thinking that one post would be all there was to say about it. But then the art started seeping in from every crack in the wall, from every eye and hand I daily encountered, from every prayer and tree and common meal.

And much like Tuesdays Unwrapped opened my eyes to the hidden gifts in the daily minute, Annie’s email has opened my eyes to the art in the living. It is literally everywhere I look. Sometimes I share what I see here, and sometimes it’s just too much to put into words.

But even in all this talk about art, there have been some heavy and most difficult days. I would never want to give the impression that art is effortless. While seeing the art has been somewhat easy as of late, creating the art has not been. Living the art is one thing, making it has been entirely another.

I have finished one book to be released in September. But I am still working on it, waiting to receive the page proofs so that I can sign off and hand it over with one final period. Even though you can go to Amazon and see it there with it’s cover and it’s finished-looking self, I am still working on it, after a two years.

Meanwhile, I’m half-way through book 2, a book for high school girls similar to Grace for the Good Girl, but unique in style and form and voice. It is due the day book 1 releases. And a year from now, I’ll still be working on it — edits, re-writing, more editing, more re-writing.

Some days I feel like the most blessed girl in the world, the girl who gets to do what she’s always wanted to do and didn’t even know it, the girl who has everything like the humans in The Little Mermaid. But other days? I think I might collapse from the pressure of it all. I signed up for this, I know. But it’s a lot of work, and I think I’m beginning to feel the weight of writing two books back to back.

I’m training myself to be thankful for the deadlines, because the deadlines mean work, and the work means I’m writing, and writing is my art. Still, making art requires discipline, sacrifice, and white-knuckled resolve. And that is any kind of art, not just writing. You have to believe it’s worth it. You have to keep the big picture in mind. You have to know that you love it, that it’s your message, that it’s where your heart beats. If you wonder if you’re doing it for the wrong reasons, stop wondering and start working. The work will smoke the motives right out and you’ll know if this is right for you from whatever is left over.

“The book eventually sold about 360,000 copies. It was an incredible outcome for a book that almost didn’t get published. If I had known how much work the publishing process would require—both in writing the manuscript and in promoting the book—I am sure I would not have signed up.”

Michael Hyatt, CEO of Thomas Nelson Publishers

To read more of Michael Hyatt’s perspective on making art through pursuing traditional publishing, check out his recent posts: Why Real Creativity Requires Significant Work :: Part 1 and Part 2.

Filed Under inspired 38 Comments

things to chat about

April 9, 2011

Once you start looking at life as art, you can’t see anything else. Do you want to look at the world through an artists eyes? These women can get you started.

Looking Round, Feeling Light @ The Run a Muck :: She is expecting her fourth boy, and she writes of the daily grind as if it were happening in the alleyways of Heaven. Maybe my favorite post she’s ever written.

Pops of Color @ Nesting Place :: She makes a house home with an effortless flourish of color. She is an artist in every sense of the word.

Enjoy the Show @ A La Mode :: She takes her lead from the tulips, and chooses to hold her head high.

In Search for Compelling Goals @ Small Notebook :: She stopped calling them dreams and started calling them goals. The post is a week or so old, but I’m just now seeing it. Worth. The. Read.

Tagged art Filed Under inspired 8 Comments

how to do art like a banker

April 6, 2011

We’re thinking about switching banks, and it’s because of an artist. We’ve been with the big company bank for years, never thought we’d switch. But then, they were bought out by an even bigger company and fees and charges and stuff started happening. We went with it for a while, mainly because of Justin. Justin is a young guy who worked at the big company bank, but he made it feel not so big-company. He answered the questions we actually had rather than constantly trying to get us to do banker-y things.

But then, Justin left. And without Justin there, all we had was big company bank without small town Justin. And the void was obvious. Until we found out Justin was now working at the small town bank down the road. And so we set up an appointment with him there, and I asked him why we should stay with the big company bank instead of following him to the small town (but still FDIC approved) bank. “Their technology is way better,” he said. “We can’t match it, at least not yet.” And then, as he spoke, his computer froze up and he couldn’t get it to work.

I could tell he was flustered, could tell he hated the fact that just as he said his small town bank technology couldn’t compare with the big guys, his little computer decided to prove it by having a bit of stage fright. So we kept talking, and we asked Justin why he left the big bank. He relaxed a bit, and said that even though he did his good work at the big bank, he didn’t feel as if he were a part of something bigger than himself. He wanted to be a part of the community where he lived, a part of a bigger whole. He said it with humility and grace and conviction. And as his computer sat frozen in the background, we connected with Justin in the now.

We aren’t considering a switch because of what he said, but because of what he did even before he said it. But he’s just a banker! you say, and he’s just trying to be a good one. Yes, but that’s what also makes him an artist.

“Art is a human act, something that’s done with the right sort of intent. Art is when we do work that matters, in a creative way, in a way that touches them and changes them for the better.”

Seth Godin, Graceful

Tagged art Filed Under inspired 35 Comments

for those of you with a message in your pocket

March 30, 2011

You have a dream in your back pocket, don’t you? Over the years, that dream has taken on many different names in your mind: Silly. Ridiculous. Hobby. Foolish. Impossible. Waste of time. You have called it that for so long, that you have never actually taken the time to consider how it got there in your pocket in the first place.

We throw trash away; we don’t put trash in our pockets. That dream is there because at one time, you saw that it had value. And so you tucked it away for safe-keeping. But doubt and fear have convinced you to keep it hidden, convinced you to rename that dream Wrong. What would it take for you to pull that dream out again, to stop taunting it with cruel names and to simply listen to what it has to say? No filters. No back talk. No eye rolls.

Dare to handle it, to hold it in your hands and consider it with kindness, with compassion, with (dare I say it?) goals. Are there tiny, itty-bitty baby steps you can take toward pursuing it? Can you at least pull it out of your pocket and hold it in your hand? Place it on the desk, maybe? Offer it up to the Dream Giver?

Three years ago, I pulled out a crumpled dream. And I put it in my suitcase and took it with me to a writing conference. At the time, I had zero ideas for a book, zero publications to my name, and zero idea what would come out of it. But the one thing I did have was the smallest shred of courage. I went to She Speaks during the summer of 2008 knowing no one and nothing. Except I had that small bean of an idea that maybe there was a possibility that I might perhaps be a writer a little bit. Maybe.

When I left the conference, I still wasn’t sure what would come of the dream. But I stopped taunting it with names. And I developed a small but respectable amount of reverence for the way God speaks to us through our desires. And I didn’t know it at the time, but She Speaks that summer was my first giant leap toward discovering my message. And the next summer at that same conference, I pitched Grace for the Good Girl to an editor, and that is why I have a book coming out in September.

And it started with a crumpled dream in my back pocket.

This summer, during the weekend of July 22 – 24, I will be back in Concord, NC at this conference I have grown to love. And I will lead a breakout session with my friend and editor, Andrea Doering. There will be opportunities for speakers and writers to develop their craft. Lysa will head the whole thing up with grace and encouragement. Mary DeMuth will talk about fiction and memoir writing and Marybeth Whalen will too, and Renee Swope will be debuting her new book, A Confident Heart. Literary agent Rachelle Gardner will talk about writing book proposals that sell, and our dear Ann Voskamp will be presenting the closing keynote. And there are so many more.

Today through April 2nd, Ann has been given the opportunity to offer a scholarship for one of you to attend She Speaks. I’ll let you visit her place for the details, but might I be a voice of courage for you today? What have you to lose by applying? The simple act of raising your hand could be the very baby step you need to take today, whether you win the scholarship or not. And while you are at it, go ahead and visit Amy Carroll at Next Step Speaker Services, as she is also offering a scholarship through April 3.

Are you feeling a little nudge? A little hope? A little excitement? I hope so. Pull that dream out of your pocket and listen to it sing.

Filed Under a friend, a writer, inspired 41 Comments

how to cure bad vision

March 29, 2011

Do you remember the sky in January of 1999? Because it was a deeper, richer blue than it has ever been before. And the clouds were fluffier and the sun was brighter and the rain was a gift and not a nuisance. It was the month I learned that The Man liked me back, and we’ve been together ever since.

That’s the kind of crazy thing that happens when you’re in love – your eyes see things different. And you look around and wonder how you could have ever missed all these gifts exploding from every rock and tree branch.

When you know you are beloved, regular life looks different than it did before. But it isn’t just romantic love that does this – I think it’s bigger, more broad than just that. When you believe you play a vital role in the story, when you know beyond a doubts shadow that your art has meaning, when you are living as though God is real and not just a nice idea, things change. And snow on the azaleas is no longer an unwelcome delay to spring but a surprising, delightful morning gift.

Tagged art Filed Under inspired 29 Comments