I Have a Dream

Song Stuck on the Brain: Unforgettable

I have a really good excuse for not blogging yesterday. No, really I do. I had to write. Actually I had to brush up my writing, because I actually got a request for a partial of my current manuscript from an agent. An agent that would be a DREAM AGENT for me.

I didn't ever think I'd get a chance to submit to her. Then an open call came around for querys in my genre. Even then, I almost didn't send the query. I could think of all kinds of reasons why I shouldn't.

Thank you, God, that no one else thought those reasons were legit.

So, I sent the query. Within hours I had a request for a synopsis and the first chapter. I screamed so loud I think I woke the neighbors. Wow. Dream Agent was actually interested enough to request a partial. Even if I get no farther than this step, I'll feel like I'm actually on the right track. That this fantasy of writing and publishing might not be a fantasy. Maybe my writing shows promise after all.

So of course, last night I had to polish up my synopsis and chapter 1. I spent all evening and half the night working on it. Which makes me VERY tired since I barely slept the night I got the request and then I barely got to sleep last night. But it was so worth it.

Now I have to wait. Which is never easy for me. I've never been good at waiting for things. Especially things I want REALLY bad.

I've run through all the fantasies. Dream Agent loves it. Wants the full manuscript. Loves it even more. She signs me, we work the book up to a spit polish shine and it SELLS. Not just this one, but the whole planned series. I get an advance, I get out of debt, I spend five years making a name for myself and finally quit my job to write full time.

Oh yeah. It's a great fantasy.

Then of course reality pokes its whiny little head up and says, "GET REAL!"

What are the chances that Dream Agent will sign you? Just because you think your book is sellable, doesn't mean it is. You've got raw talen all right, more raw than talent. You'll be lucky if she doesn't laugh her way through your first chapter. Get signed my a.....

Okay, you get the picture. Kind a of devil and angel thing sitting on my shoulders. And to think I intentionally put myself in this kind of turmoil.

I'm determined to spend my waiting time usefully though. The manuscript is complete, I'm just working on some touch ups and rewrites. I want to have it polished a little more, just in case.

Just in case my dream is about to come true.
A.

CFBA: A Pagan's Nightmare by Ray Blackston

Song Stuck on the Brain: Something Happened on the Way to Heaven by Phil Collins.

This week, the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance is introducting ">A Pagan's Nightmare (Warner Faith 2006) by Ray Blackston

ABOUT THE BOOK:
">A Pagan's Nightmare is a delightful tongue-in-cheek look at some of our sacred cows...and he's not afraid to tip them over!

Larry Hutch may have a few loose screws in his head, but he is determined to create a hit with his latest manuscript. While dealing with personal crises, he conceives of a strange new world: on a routine Monday morning in Atlanta, an unwary "pagan" finds himself one of the last remaining unbelievers in a world populated by Christians.

Christians can buy gas for twelve cents a gallon, while everyone else (the pagans, that is) have to pay $6.66. The radio stations alter all song lyrics to conform to "Christian" standard--the Beatles belt out "I Wanna Hold Your Tithe"; ABBA's "Dancing Queen" becomes "Dancing's Wrong". Even French fries, newly labeled "McScriptures", are tools for evangelism.

Larry's novel is a big hit with his agent, Ned. But Ned's wife..a committed Southern Babtist...is less than amused. And Larry has yet to show the manuscript to his new girlfriend, even though he's made her the unsuspecting heroine. It will take deft handling from both men to keep their lives and their relationships intact when the world witnesses ">A Pagan's Nightmare.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Ray Blackston of Greenville, South Carolina, worked as a buyer and a broker for eleven years before cashing in his modest 401k and leaving his corporate cubicle in 2000 to write full time. He is a graduate of the University of south Carolina, with a degree in Finance and Economics.

He serves on the drama team at his church, participates in a weekly men's accountability group, serves on the missions committee of his church, has traveled to rural Ecuador on a summer missions program, and coaches his seven-year-old nephew, Action Jackson, in T-Ball.

When he is not crafting a new novel, he's exploring south Carolina beaches with friends and family. He competes in golf tournaments, leads a writers' critique group, and relives his youth through a large collection of eighties music!

His first novel Flabbergasted was one of three finalists for the Christy Award for best first novel, and was chosen as Inspirational Novel of the Year by the Dallas Morning News.

MY TAKE:

So far this one has been great. The humor is good and I have to say, really creative story idea. I'll post more of my thoughts a little later.

Have your read this one? Be sure to let me know what you thought.

A.

Borrowers in the Grass

Song Stuck on the Brain: Music Box Dancer

I really don't know where it came from, I could just suddenly hear a music box playing in my head. I recognized it, but couldn't place it, so I played 'name that tune' by whistling it to my co-worker and he got it.

I used to have a musical jewelry box as a kid that played the song. It had a little toy ballerina that popped up and twirled when you opened the lid. I loved that box. I spent hours imginging her living inside when I wasn't looking. I pretended I was small enough to climb inside with her too. It was dark, cozy - full of possibilities in a vague interior.

I had a real fascination with miniturization and with toys that came to life. I pretended a lot about my toy box and what went on inside when the lid was down. I hid inside it with my toys once, hoping I'd see them move or hear them whisper to one another. No such luck. I think they knew I was listening.

I read all of the Borrowers books and The Littles too. I thought it would be so cool to have a family of Borrowers in our house. I never found any, although I did have a collection of miniature doll furniture that I played with. There were a set of red tufted dining room chairs with a table, a bed, and then little dishes and such that I'd cabbaged onto that were the right size. The little three legged plastic inserts that Pizza Hut put in the boxes to keep your cheese from sticking to the cardboard lid made great tables. I used those with my Barbies too.

Mom was always telling me to go outside and play. We lived in the country, I'm the youngest and I didn't usually have any one to play with. I was content inside, but when I did go out, I usually either took a book or my little doll furniture. I would find the tallest grass in the yard, lay on my stomach and create a house in the grass.

I'd flatten round portions, leaving thin rows of standing grass between to make walls around my 'rooms'. Sometimes I would even braid the grass to make rugs. I'd set up the furniture and then pretend I was a little person that lived there. I would have a pet grasshopper or butterfly. I would live on acorns and berries and mushrooms. I loved it. When I was done, I always wondered if anyone else came to live in my grass home.

I would play the same game though, just about anywhere. Back of my closet under the clothes rack, under a desk or the Christmas tree (awesome with the lights). Sometimes I would just lie on my back and pretend the ceiling was the floor and I could make the room over any way I wanted.

I'm not sure why I lived in my head so much as a kid. If I wasn't playing make believe, I was reading someone else's make believe. I never had an imaginary friend. I just made up a million different imaginary people as the game demanded. I carried on conversations too. Long ones.

I can't really say that anything has changed.

I still like to pretend I'm 6 inches tall, I still stare at the ceiling and pretend the world is upside down, and if I could lay under the Christmas tree - I would. The biggest difference now, is that I also write my make believe down.

I love to just get lost in someone elses world - or mine.

Reality bites.
A.

Winner of Hell In A Briefcase

Congratulations, Rachelle!

You're the winner of a free copy of Hell in a Briefcase by Phil Little.

Keep watching more book contests will be coming.

A.

Wedding a Go-Go

Song Stuck on the Brain: Every Morning by Sugar Ray

I had another weird dream.

Okay, so this one wasn't scifi, but strange none the less. I dreamed my sister was getting married.

Wait - that's not the strange part.

It started out like a normal wedding. A large crowd at an outdoor wedding, the bridal party dressed in red satin on stage. The minister gave the opening statements, then it was time for the special music. Suddenly, a chorus line of bridesmaids and groomsmen came dancing on stage in cream tuxes and dresses, singing and prancing like something out of A Chorus Line. They sang, danced, and twirled in and out of formation. They waved their bouquets and top hats. Then with a dramatic bow, they passed it on to the pianist in the corner.

There sat our mom along with the grooms mother. Mom was banging out the accompaniment and the two were singing with gusto, they hit their high note and tossed it over to another set of relatives. The solo parts flitted around line by line while the bridal party shimmied and shook.

A troop of fanfare trumpeters joined in, standing in a line behind the dancers and waving their trumpets back and forth in unison. An old family friend popped up to sing her part, but forgot the words, so she ended up scatting a trippy little chorus of "ba bap a de whap sheelley sho do do..." She was actually pretty good. About that time one of the flags hanging from a trumpet flipped into the candelabra and caught fire. The trumpeter began frantically shaking and waving it to douse the flames.

Unfortunately that's about when I woke up, so I don't know how the rest of the number went, but let me tell you, other than the flaming trumpet, they could have done broadway.

I told Angel about the dream and (after she was done snorting) she asked where I was since I'm supposed to be maid of honor in the event this wedding takes place.

Well, I can say without a doubt I wasn't part of the performance. I have two left feet and can't twirl or shimmy without gasp or jiggle. I do remember thinking in the dream, "Wow, when did she plan this? This wasn't part of the wedding plans!"

I liked the bridesmaid dresses though.

A.