NaNoWriMo

Ok, this is nuts. 50,000 words in 30 days? That amounts to nearly 1,700 words per day. It starts at midnight tonight. Decisions, decisions.

Details about the contest.

Playing Pretend Blacksmith

Family lore has it that Great-Grandpa Pieter Vellekoop was one of the few remaining blacksmiths who could shrink an iron rim onto a wooden wagon wheel. I’m proud to have that heritage in my family tree. Sadly, such skills seem to have evaporated through subsequent generations—to the point that I can barely hammer a sixteen-penny nail into a two-by-four without smashing my thumb.

I'm nearly 12,000 words into a fantasy novel idea. When I began, I had no idea that I would need to know anything about the trade. But as my protagonist began to take shape, I discovered that he’s a blacksmith. Who knew?

The problem is that I know about as much about smithing as I do about knitting. As a storyteller, I will be expected to project the feel of the hammer on the glowing metal, the blast of the furnace, and so on and so forth.

Yes, we have been blessed with Wikipedia and Youtube—founts of all knowledge both old and new. Certainly, I can research the basics—perhaps even learn to handle the trade lingo with relative credibility. But theoretical research has its limits. It will suffice for the moment, as I finish fleshing out character and plot, but when the time comes for the re-write, I will need to go further than simple research.

One nice thing about the internet is its ability to find clusters of eccentrics who share similar interests. Apparently, there are blacksmith associations in this twenty-first century. Some of them even offer classes. Perhaps I’ll be able to spend time at a real forge before putting the finishing strokes (pause to appreciate the consistency of metaphor) on my story. Maybe I can resurrect some of Great-Grandpa Pieter’s skill, even if only enough to write about it.

Curveballs, etc.

I was Babe Ruth calling his shot and stepping into the swing to smash it over the fence. I had 25,000 words of notes on the Flying Solo project and was beginning to set up interviews with dozens of single men in ministry to supplement my research. But—forget curveballs—sometimes that snarling man on the mound hurls a knuckleball.

That first pitch came late in May when our church lost its lease. From one week to another, we had to move everything to a new part of town. Endless details demanded immediate attention. My personal routine unraveled, and habits such as writing began to suffer.

The next pitch was a blistering cutter that came in early June. The son of some dear church friends suffered a horrible accident at school. As they attended to Jorgie, the rest of the leadership team has tried to take on their roles.

It’s useless to complain about the pitches. Trying to maintain rigid control just causes stress. It’s good to have goals, but if my 37 brutish years have taught me anything, it’s that sometimes I just have to adjust my swing.

Flying Solo has been temporarily shelved until we get church happening again. Not to worry, though—I’ve already invested too much work and thought in the project to let it go to waste.

It looks like I’ll just have to bunt this inning.

Interrogations Have Begun

This is fun.

Having drained my brain onto 60+ pages of raw notes (yes--it was messy), it occurred to me that my experience as a single man may or may not have been typical. I have no idea.

Solution: inquire, query, and otherwise question my peers for further information on the life of a single man of God. ("Enhanced" interrogation techniques optional). So far, I've initiated contact with over a dozen men. Hopefully, that number will grow to over a hundred interviews.

If you are/have been a single man who has spent time in some sort of ministry, I would love to interrogate you. Please email me your address to start the process ( dannyvellekoop@gmail.com).

Thanks and good luck!

dv

Osama isn’t the only one with a journal

Yesterday, I dusted off some old journals dating back to my early days in California and found an entry that gave me chills.

On September 22, 1999, I discuss an emotional conversation with God that included an impassioned plea for a wife. I had no idea at the time I penned that entry that in exactly eight years to the day, I would stand trembling in the front of the church, watching my bride walk toward me down the aisle .

The skeptic can dismiss such coincidences as pure chance–and maybe it is. But as I read my sappy and inconsistent journal entries, I can’t help seeing Psalm 23 in action. Each one tells of some trial or triumph the Shepherd saw me through. Even some of the most trivial entries relate an experience that completely changed my understanding of God and myself.

I highly recommend journaling if you don’t do it already. For a writer, it’s just good practice to take regular snapshots of your thoughts and experience. And as a follower of Christ, an occasional reading of your old entries can be very encouraging, and you might see trends in you life that you might miss just living day-to-day.

I Destroy Bookstores

The brick-and-mortar bookstores are closing down one by one, and it's my fault.

Well, partly my fault.

I love going into bookstores. I'll browse for hours, wandering from section to section, pulling book after book of the shelf. Then I'll put them back. I rarely buy anything except a coffee.

When I do buy, I buy online. Meanwhile, the local bookstore has to pay its lease and employees with revenue I'm not giving it. No wonder they're going away.

It's like the airlines: we moan about horrible food and and that we're being treated like cattle instead of passengers. Yet we buy the rock-bottom cheapest tickets that we can find online with little regard for anything but price.

What are the airlines supposed to do? To stay in business, they have to cut services so they can compete on price. If we passengers truly cared about service, we'd fork over the extra coins for the extra perks.

I expect that the large bookstores will slowly disappear, while smaller stores with low overhead and maybe an inventory consisting of used books might survive a little longer at least on coffee revenue. We'll wistfully recall the old days when we could leaf through books before buying--while clicking the "Add to cart" button on Amazon.

To ePub or not to ePub?

Curious:

Does anyone out there use an e-reader, and if so, what brand do you use? Please do me a favor and give me your feedback via the query in the sidebar.

Personally, I like ink on paper. But the reader is the boss here.

I'm wondering if it would be worth the trouble to release an e-book first to raise the capital to go to press. A straw poll isn't exactly a scientific survey, but I'm just looking for a general idea here.

Appreciate your feedback!

-Danny

Opening Up My Veins

A couple of months ago at a coffee shop inside Barnes and Nobles, I pulled out my notepad on a whim and began to write. To my astonishment, I found myself brushing away tears as the words flowed onto page after page. They described my years as a single guy trying to serve the Lord in California, far away from my family.

Up until that moment, I never thought I had a particularly interesting life. But as I stared down afterward at the yellow legal pad full of my jagged cursive, it dawned on me that my single years were not my dark ages after all. God was at work in me that whole time--and I was given opportunities to experience some amazing things!

While my current work in progress is not a collection of my memoirs per se, it has become apparent to me that I just might have something to say to single guys out there who are trying to serve the Lord. You might say that I'm opening up my veins, and this book is what's coming out!

Pipe Dreams

We can all picture it: the wide-eyed kid with little more than a backpack and a dream steps off the Greyhound in Hollywood to become a movie star--even though no one has ever heard of him. And his acting ability hasn't progressed much beyond his fifth-grade rendition of "Puss in Boots." Perhaps we admire his sheer chutzpa. But inside, we think: Poor fool. He'll be lucky to land a job as a ride operator for Universal Studios.

Like making it on the big screen, the idea of becoming a successful author is very attractive. It would be so romantic to be a writer, crafting the art in urban cafes. Of course (since we're fantasizing, why not?) we'd be a very rich and famous writer--the darling guest of radio and TV shows that travels the world in a yacht.

Sometimes we are more interested in being a writer, rather than in fulfilling the actual task of writing. It's human. We all want recognition, attaching more importance to success in the public eye rather than in the fulfillment of our calling.

Real writers tend to have other jobs that actually pay the bills, and getting agents or publishers to even look at their stuff is something paramount to a miracle. If someone actually cuts you a check for your efforts--however pathetic a sum--you must be someone special!

No, like any other endeavor in life, writing is just plain, hard work. I realized this fact when my dear mother--a woman of many talents by any measure--decided in her mid-life to start writing. I'll admit it--I didn't really take her seriously.

That is to say, I didn't take her seriously until she self-published the 310-page biography of her own father, which has sold a few thousand copies in English and Portuguese, and is even now being translated into Spanish for a late 2011 release in South America. She has followed up with a series of children's stories that are just hitting the market.

Her magic secret to success? Work. She spent hundreds of hours on the phone with her father, interviewing people who knew him, and poring over the journals and letters he had collected over nearly a century of life. Mom doesn't fantasize about being a writer. She writes! And it can only be accomplished through diligence and sacrifice.

Of course, a creative writing class or two can't hurt (I've taken a few), but without ever taking a "How to Get Published" seminar, Mom is the one with her name printed on the spines of real books. Mom, you are my hero!

Shameless plugs:

A Man After God's Own Heart



Alex and the Pirate's Cave

Whatever It Takes

What do you do when you're driving along and you start getting ideas for your book? I mean, what do you do short of pulling onto the freeway shoulder and pulling out the laptop? Such a move may require some explanatory jujitsu when Highway Patrol comes to investigate.

I don't currently own a dictation device and I know from experience that even if I did, I probably would never listen to it again. (Question: if I did own a voice recorder, can it be used in conjunction with voice recognition software to convert my dictation into editable text? Because that is something I could use!)

Today, for instance, I spent many hours running errands in preparation for tomorrow's Easter program at church. As I drove the San Diego freeways, my mind began to cough up ideas for the book.

I solved the problem of recording those thoughts by pulling out some scrap paper as soon as I arrived at my destination and quickly jotting key phrases. My writing folder is pregnant with a growing embryo of notes. When I get more time, I'll develop them into complete thoughts.

I am now approaching 40 pages of notes. 260 to go! Below: my growing pile. Yes, that is the back of an envelope with some of my scribbling!

How I'm Writing the Book

Step One: pour raw thought onto paper. Like I mentioned before, it's not pretty.

At the same time, I'm compiling a list of items I will need to do later: for instance, interviews to conduct, events to research, and other books to reference.

All of this involves just the manuscript itself.

On the publishing side--whether I end up self-publishing or convincing some crazy editor to speculate a few thousand dollars on my untried ability to produce saleable material--I'll have to figure out how to get word out (affordably) to my potential market that they desperately need to buy my book.

For you published authors out there--any tips for the new guy?

Writing a Book

Ok, so I'm writing a book.

It feels kind of crazy. Who's attention can I capture so much that they will willingly shell out the better part of a twenty-dollar bill to read my stuff? Do I really have anything to say?

So far, my notes aren't very encouraging. Between hand-written and typed material, I'm approaching about 35 pages of the most awful writing you've ever seen.

All my stuff starts out that way, though. Some writers talk about "vomiting" their first draft, and my creative style certainly fits that unappetizing description.

Writing is an insane amount of work. Stephen King talks about cranking out fifteen pages per day. Like most of his villains, that's not human! Even when I have the time to do more, I find it difficult to pour out more than a page or two of raw thought per sitting.

What I'm going to do when I'm done is anyone's guess. I certainly don't have the capital to go to press if I self-publish, and I'm not very optimistic about a publishing house writing a check to a heretofore unpublished writer nobody's ever heard of.

But sometimes you have to put your feet in the water before the Jordan parts. So, I'm going to give it my best shot and let the Lord do the rest.