For Grins and Giggles

So I was searching through our boxes of over five-hundred books (for what seemed like the five-hundredth time) and happened upon this gem: a folder full of stories and papers I wrote in fourth grade! Apparently, I wrote more (and better) than I thought I did! Here is one piece, unedited or messed with by my now-experienced hand, that I thought you might enjoy.  :)

                                                         There's a Moose in the House!

                                                         One day when my family came back from the store,

                                                      We realized we forgot to shut the door!

Just when we thought everything was great,

I found a moose in my closet, wearing a skate!

"There's a moose in the house!" my brother told everybody.

"That's why my bed is muddy!"

Then dad burst in, "There's a moose in the shed!"

My sister screamed, "There's one under mom's bed!"

Then mom cried out, "Come here somebody, quick!"

"There's one in the bathtub, chewing a stick!"

And I stood amidst this,

But then came a moose, wanting a kiss!

After we shooed all the moose out of the yard,

                  The mailman came with a bright yellow card.

                                                      "I'm missing a moose!" the letter said,

                                                         "Will you help me find it, before it plays dead?"

I have to admit this idea wasn't original, but loosely based off of the card game "Moose in the House", which is another gem! (By the way, can you believe I rhymed? Like, good grief, what was I thinking? I never rhyme!)

Exclusive Preview!

Hi, everybody! Here is an exclusive excerpt from my latest novel, To Be Free. Enjoy!


…The next day, Nillah found herself trying to ignore the fact that her and Jack had left for the Dammam Regional Museum more than an hour ago – when Dad's GPS had said it would take about five minutes. The sun slanted in the sky and bounced off of the windows of the tall buildings as she wearily put one foot in front of the o
ther. She could almost hear beautiful, colorful Mumbai taunting her as she trudged through the sweltering, almost colorless streets.
“Um, Nillah?” Jack caught her elbow and stopped to look around. “I don't think this is the kind of area they would put a museum in.”
“What was your first clue?” Nillah rolled her eyes. It was hot and tired versus politeness right now, and as far as she was concerned, hot and tired won.
Jack ignored her comment, “I think we're officially lost.” He rummaged in his pockets for his phone. “Ugh. No service. How's yours?”
“You know, I think maybe if we went that way and turned left – ”
“You forgot it, didn't you.”
Nillah bit her lip and winced. “Well, think of it this way. By forgetting my phone, I just plunged us into a spectacular adventure! Just picture it: we'll see sights the average tourist never gets to discover! Forget the museum.”
“Nillah, stop goofing around. Dad is going to kill us. I mean, losing the guard was bad enough –”
“Hey! That was an accident!” She had gotten confused with the bus stops and had gotten off with Jack before the guard had a chance to stop them. Was that really so criminal?
Jack continued, “But getting lost when I – we – specifically promised we wouldn't . . .”
She held up her hands. “OK. So we're lost. Without the guard. We're going to get in huge trouble. I get it. But standing around and talking about how bad it is isn't going to help. Now, as I was saying, this way, and then right . . . wait, is that what I said?” Nillah put a hand up to her cheek.
Jack shook his head. “I think I better do the navigating.”

Just for My Father

When I sat down to write this post, I took one look at the blank page in front of me and thought, "I don't know if I have anything important to say just now. I suppose I'll wait a week or so." But as Dan Poynter said, "If you wait for inspiration to write, you're not a writer, you're a waiter." And I definitely do NOT want to be a waiter, so here goes…

Lately, I've been taking some time off after completing my last book, To Be Free. It has been relaxing, yes, but more than that, the absence of writing has reminded me of how much I am pulled to write. And not necessarily for my audience, either. If I'm honest, when I make the transition from writing to publishing, I am almost always thinking, "Who would want to read this, anyway?". 

More and more, I'm realizing the value of not thinking of my audience when I write, and just writing for myself and my Father. Like the little kid who gets a new pack of crayons from her dad. She draws for the fun of it, and to please the one who gave her the gift. Her natural-looking scribbles for him are better than a strained "Mona Lisa" made for the crowd, anyway. They're more unique, at least. 

I wonder how different life would be if we all stopped looking at each other, trying to please the crowd. It's funny how even when you're rock-solid in your belief that your identity doesn't come from the crowd, you still try to please them. I guess I didn't realize that even I do that until just now. But what would happen if the only person any of us tried to please was Him? What if His will was to only one we ever worried about? I think even my imagination can't come up with the miracles that could happen!