The Tree of Sophie

I started editing my novel. I find myself wishing I was the kind of person like my main character is. That sounds sort of funny to write, because I created this character, but I wish that inside me lay the same strength, the same passion, and the same beauty that I so clearly see in my main character, Sophie. Maybe some of you have figured out by now that Sophie's story is mine, or the seed planted for this story stemmed from my own experiences. I wrote this story as I was in a place of brokenness, and of hurt, and of wondering and grieving and questioning. Now, as I edit, I am also in a place of wondering, a place of questioning. It makes me wish I was as strong as my Sophie girl. It also makes me think I should take my own advice. I wish I could share with all of you every word, every sentance, every paragraph, of this novel that has inspired me, spoken to me and connected with me, but if I did that I would be posting the majority of my novel. But here's a little bit of what I'm talking about:

I wonder if I am so urgently holding on to any thread of control that comes my way that I am forgetting to give it all to the One who gives, and takes away.
I think I’m scared to offer it all up, the life of this precious one whom I love so abundantly, my very own life, to the One who controls it all, because what if He says no? What if the results I have been so desperately waiting for come out as the results I fear the most? What if God chooses to not give me what I want, but instead give me what fits into His plan for me? I know His plan for me is good, but I wonder if I can take anymore of this excruciating pain. I wonder what would happen if God decided to say no, to take my own life.
I tell myself over and over again that I would trust Him, that no matter what He said, my answer would always be yes. But would it be? If it came down to it, would I blindly follow, even after experiencing the rejection of my plans and desires?
The question running through my mind is am I able, and willing, to lay down all these battles at the feet of the One who ultimately holds it all, at the feet of the One who has the power to give, and to take away.

In which I incoherently discuss...

Listening to: The Living Proof by Mary J Blige
Quote obsession: Love doesn't break when I drop it.
Love keeps reaching,and threading,and bending,and anchoring,and connecting me to the people I love.

My mind is full, and racing. I've tried for days to get all my thoughts down in some coherent way. So excuse me if this post is a little all over the place kind of random.

*I watched this documentary online today. I've never really been that into documentaries (Ok, confession this is the first one I've ever sat through because I find them so boring.) I found this one on the GSDLife website. It's almost an hour long, but if you have time maybe check it out, it's really interesting. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYG0ZuTv5rs&feature=related

* On Thursday(ish) I was out trimming hooves with my cousin. Due to our crazy Alberta weather it was crazy windy, like shake the house and rock your bed when you're trying to sleep windy. So my cousin and I were up there, and I was holding the mammoth horse while she was trimming his mammoth sized feet. The wind was causing the tarp covering the bales to flap wildly in the wind, which was scaring mammoth horse (also named Buddy.) He kept dancing around, trying to get away from the awful scariness which was the flapping tarp. He was big, and with every move he made we had to try and find a way to move with him without getting stepped on. Also, his constant moving made it really hard to trim his hooves. Finally on the third foot we got him to stand still. His eyes still darted around nervously but he was standing still. I came up next to him and kept whispering to him. "It's ok, there's nothing to be scared of, I'm right here, you're not alone." It was after we got back inside that I realized that the way I was with Buddy is probably the way God is with me. I'm here, and it's scary. I keep moving and dancing around, trying to avoid being in this position of being dependent, of having no control. And there's God, holding me, His being right up next to mine, whispering in my ear, "It's ok, I'm right here, there's nothing to be scared of, you're not alone."

*There is little, I realized, that can't be solved with a home spa. There is little that can't be tackled with purple toe nail polish and some girl talk. There is little that can't be reasoned with as I sit there with my mentor. She's mine, my mentor, and I feel the smallest bit of pride when I say that. She's mine, and for that I am grateful. She's honest and real and she believes in me.

* This is my new song love: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jRbsTJnK5ZA
I heard it on Private Practice: The Intervention a couple of weeks ago, downloaded it not that long after and have been listening to it almost daily since then. I just love this song. :)

* Here are a couple of blog posts I'm loving too. Maybe you want to check them out, if you are like me and spend hours on the internet on a Saturday. (Just kidding! But if you have some extra time to waste on the internet, like I'm sure lots of people do (at least I hope I'm not the only one) you should check out some of these posts.)

• http://beautyinweakness.blogspot.com/2011/11/just-to-feel-you-cling.html This is another one by the same person who wrote the post I mentioned in my last post. I've never met her, but she's friends with my best friend's mama, and I absolutely love her writing.


• http://natalielloyd.blogspot.com/2011/12/songbirds-and-cowboy-boots.html Another post by the lovely Natalie Lloyd (I posted one by her a while back.) She's another one of my favorite bloggers.

* I could also tell you that I haven't really edited my NaNo novel yet, but I do have a little idea spinning around in my head for a sequel. I suppose I should finish up this novel first, though. My (amazing) friend has agreed to make a cover for my novel! I feel the teeniest bit lost without a novel to pour myself in to.

I suppose I've bored everyone enough for now. I apologize if this made no sense and I just wasted 5 minutes of your day with my incoherent rambling.

Today I got to collect...

My prize. Yeah, I know, it's pretty nice.
I'm reading through the rough copy now, editing and finding those little things that need to be fixed.
So far I've added a couple hundred words, and deleated some too but added enough that my word count has gained more then it has lost.
Since I am a NaNo Winner, the NaNoWriMo organization is publishing 5 free copies for me through Create Space. After that, I don't know what I'll do with it. Maybe publish it, since I'm sure many people are waiting to read it.
I feel sort of shy about publishing it, though. For the month of November it's been my project, my secret, my baby. I emailed a copy to my best friend today, and I'll see what she thinks. Maybe her opinion will help me decide what to do with this 51116 word baby of mine.

Have I read it yet?

The possibly surprising answer to this question is no. No, I have not read my novel yet. I've read bits and pieces, editing a little here and there (Over 51000 words now.) But I haven't read the whole thing.
Has anybody else read it? No. My best friend has read the first 3ish pages, but the story has changed so much since those first days.
Cai is asking to read it once it's finished, and I promised she can, and she will.
For now, though, I'm not ready. Tomorrow is the day where the word count valadation can start and the winners can start being announced. Tomorrow I feel like it won't just be my novel anymore.
But for now, it's still my novel. It's my secret... and I like it that way.

This last bit

The novel is complete. The 50,000 word goal has been reached. I'm just shy of 51000 words, but I'm sure my word count is bound to go up and down a bit as I get into the editing stage.
Now to read it...

47683

I'm tired... of writing.
I'm almost done, with the story in it's final stages, with only a small 2317 words left.
But I'm tired. My brain is turning to mush inside my head.
But I need to finish strong.
This story is turning out to be better then I ever imagined it would be. It's turning out to be more honest and real then I ever thought it would be in the begining.
I don't know what I'll do with if, if it will ever turn into something I'll be proud to share, or if it does if I'll ever have the nerve to let people read it... but with the end goal in sight I need to finish strong.
I think I can, I think I can, I think I can...

41356 ~ Moving Forward

Monday, October 11, 2010
I didn’t give Claire the letter today, and I felt like I don’t need to. I was thinking today, about stories, and about moving on.
I’ve been told to move on, to try and live a normal life despite the disease which haunts me always, but I realized that I don’t have to, move on that is.
I am forever changed, by the genetic condition which has resided in my body since birth, and by the Esophagitis, the ulcers, that took up residence in my esophagus. I don’t need to move on, or get past this.
I can’t move on, because these conditions have changed me forever. I have become stronger, braver, a fighter, but I have also experienced pain in a way most others have not. I can’t try to live normally again because something has changed, something that keeps me from being the person I once was.
When I was younger, I could handle the Glycogen Storage Disease. I was a kid, I didn’t know any better. But as I grew, I began to realize that not everyone was like this, and that I was different. Not everyone took trips to the hospital a few times a year to see specialists. Not everyone spent Valentine’s Day and thanksgiving and Easter in the hospital. Not everyone had narrowly escaped death… by the time they were 5. When I realized the truth of my reality, the pain cut into me like a knife. After my coma, for the first time I wondered if maybe I was too damaged by this sickness. Over time, though, it was easier to keep going, and for the deep wound that the sickness had cut into me to begin to scar over.
When I was diagnosed again, this year, the pain came again. There was another wound, another cut, another earth shaking reality that I now had to deal with, and find a way to cope with and survive with. But when it came to dealing with this new wound, I felt like I was, and am, more prepared, more ready to face the shifting of the ground and the acceptance of a new reality.
I can never live normally; never move past this, because it is forever a part of me, sewn into me. There’s no moving past, only moving forward. There’s no living normally, only finding a new normal. There are scars, but they are like the delicate lined pattern on a butterfly’s wings, unattractive until you get close enough to see the beauty that is hidden there.
There is weakness, but it is held by God’s strength. There is grief, but it is sustained by the everlasting hope, the stars that shine even on those blackest nights. There is no moving on, only moving forward. So I will let those scars bring forth something beautiful, and like the delicate butterfly, I will fly towards the sun.

37373 ~ Fictionalizing friends

In this process of writing this novel, I've been realizing that some of the people in Sophie's life are modeled after some of the people in mine. Sophie's parents are modeled after mine, as are her grandparents. Her close group of friends are modeled after mine (actually, if they read the book a couple of them might recognize some of our stories in there.) I've taken bits and pieces of the people that I love best, and woven them into these characters, who I'm also growing to love. So thank you family and friends, for lending bits and pieces of yourself to this novel, even though you have no idea yet :)
Here's a bit of what's been happening over in my novel:

I used to think of myself like one of those old wind-ups toys who popped a spring or a teddy bear whose stitching came loose and the nose is rubbed off. I am placed on the shelf in the back of the closet, something no one wants because it isn’t perfect. But once you are loved, you can’t be broken to anyone but yourself. Broken isn’t how you’re made, but a label you put on yourself. Once you are loved the only one who can call you broken is yourself. Other people, when they love you, they don’t see the brokenness that you think you are, or the pain that towers inside you for always. They see the person, the heart. Then, when they see that, the only person who can say you’re broken is yourself.

32000 ~ Here's the Diagnosis...

They remind you of the things you know you know. They love you through the times when you honestly don't know. They're my friends, the family I chose for myself. They are the people who claim me, the good and the bad. Nothing totally feels real until I run it by them, not new diagnosises or changes. When I tell them, it's finally like it's real, it's happening, and I'll be ok. No matter how bad it is, I'll get through it because I have them to lean on. Thanks Ministry team, for being the best friends I could ask for. You've loved me through the tough times and reminded me of those things I know that I know but tend to forget when obstacles rise up in front of me.
With that said, it's time I share my new diagnosis with the world, after disclosing it to my team tonight and having it all sink in, and gaining the strength to face it.
I have been diagnosed with esophagitis (The big fancy medical name for it.) Breaking it down it is basically chronic inflamation and ulcers of the esophogus. It won't ever fully go away. I could tell you all the statistics I found (Been googling non-stop since I got the diagnosis) but I'll spare you all that medical talk. Know that it could have been much worse, but what it ended up being is still not good. It almost feels like to me as if we are treading on thin ice.
I know I should be grateful that it only is what it is. But my world has shifted, I have lost my footing, and I’m kind of busy trying to adjust to this new way of life right now to be thankful for what it only is.
Thanks all for your prayers and support over this last little while. I appreciate it.

Quote in italics is from the book I'm writing...

30005~ Broken

I've reached 30,000 words! Writing this novel, it seems, it my place to escape. It's the place I go to when everything gets to be to much, and I'm finding out some very interesting things about myself, about life, about love. I'll just keep pushing on, keep writing this story that nested in my heart and pleaded for me to write it.

"I used to think of myself like one of those old wind-ups toys who popped a spring or a teddy bear whose stitching came loose and the nose is rubbed off. I am placed on the shelf in the back of the closet, something no one wants because it isn’t perfect. But once you are loved, you can’t be broken to anyone but yourself. Broken isn’t how you’re made, but a label you put on yourself. Once you are loved the only one who can call you broken is yourself."

28056 ~ Pro Life Forum

For NaNoWriMo this year, I've been involved in the forums. It's a great way to get support in my writing journey, and I've met a few really great other young Christian writers.
One of the forums I've become involved in this year is a Pro-Life forum. Since the theme of my book has to do with Pro-life, I was hoping to get a new perspective and just some ideas on where to go with my novel.
Our conversation is on abortion. The main question we've been on was "If abortion murder?" But we've expanded on to when the baby becomes an actual person and the mother's choice.
It's been a tough forum. I've been listening to every side, weighing in and offering my opinion in a non-judgemental sort of way. It's hard, to honestly believe something with your whole heart, and have other people against you, and to offer your opinion and beliefs in a non-judgemental way.
Why is the baby considered more of a human at 20 weeks then it was at 19? Why is a baby not considered a human, despite the beating heart and brain waves and hands and feet, just because it can't live apart from it's mother?
Why, because the baby hasn't yet reached a certain stage, is it not considered a human? Wouldn't that be like killing a newborn because it can't yet walk or talk?
Weighing in on this debate has been hard, but I won't let my voice go unheard. I won't let them say "She did nothing."
I won't stand here and let the innocent be killed and not do anything.

25165~ Half Way

I'm at the halfway point of my story. 25165 words, 51 pages.
It's coming along, slowly but surely. Some bits have been harder to write then others. Some days the words flow easily and some days it's more of a struggle to get out the words that rest inside my heart, begging to be told.
I haven't been posting that many pieces with my surgery and medical updates, but it's coming along. It makes me proud. Maybe I'll find a snippet to share on Monday.
Until then I'll just keep... on... writing

8136 ~ Worth the Chance

Hey you,
You, the ones who thought I would be better off dead because my designer genes don’t fit with the world’s definition of normal. You, who thought that since my life would be different, it wasn’t worth living. You, who thought this world would be better off without me and my disease, by saving me from the pain that goes along with my life, you would have spared me from making a difference in the life of that one, and that one, and that one, and that one.
If you’d have killed me out of mercy, you’d never have had the chance to find out who I’d become. Maybe I’d find the cure for cancer or AIDS. Maybe I’d find a way to stop world hunger. Maybe I’d be the one to save the life of your mother or father, husband or wife, son or daughter or brother or sister. Maybe I’d change the world, or maybe I’d just change one life.
But then again, if you got your way, you’d never know. Because you didn’t think I was worth the chance.

4981 ~ The Body of Christ

With eyes closed and heads bowed, these people began to surround me in prayer. With strong steady voices, they asked God to give me peace, pleaded with Him to guide the hands of the doctors and to give them wisdom. They begged God to give me strength, and to help me feel His love on these dark, stormy nights.
Surrounded by His body, I felt as though I was being embraced by God. It was almost as if He was telling me He hasn’t left me, even now, and He never will. He gave me people, He gave me love, and, in a way, He gave me a small bit of Himself.

3185 ~ Monsters Under the Bed

Here's a little snippet from what I have so far... Enjoy!

Monday, February 11, 2010
Today I had another ‘session’ with Claire. I was surprised at the joy that filled my tiny heart when I stumbled back into the Lilac room. Claire was waiting for me, donned in another bohemian dress that flowed down around her ankles. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun at the base of her neck with a few stray tendrils dangling around her face.
I flopped down on the couch, rearranging the pillows around myself.
“How are things?” Claire asked, resting her head in her hand,
I proceeded to tell her about Kate and J.T and their upcoming arrival. Claire made appropriate noises, oohing over the happy parts and ahing as I presented the questions that had come to mind.
After we had investigated every nook and cranny of this issue, the tables turned over to the piece I had written last week.
With only the slightest tremble in my voice, I began to read for Claire what I had written. By the time I finished, there were tears in Claire’s eyes.
“It’s ok to be scared of the dark,” She told me.
I remember when I was little, how I used to be scared of the monsters under my bed that appeared in the cover of night. I would beg my dad to come into my room and check under the bed. He would assure me time and time again that there was nothing there before I would finally drift off to sleep, the covers pulled up under my little chin.
Now, I am realizing, there are still monsters under the bed. They might be different monsters, no longer the same ones that lurked in my room as a child. They are the monsters of fear, the unknown, doubt and regret.
They’re not so easy to spot as the ones that hid under my bed once upon a time. These ones lurk in the dark corners of my soul, ready to pounce whenever the opportunity arises.
I have learned that in those long night hours, when sleep won’t come and you’re forced to lie there and think with nothing to distract you or to cause your mind to drift away, that’s when the monsters come out to play.
After all these years, I realized, I’m still scared of the dark. And getting rid of them isn’t as simple as Daddy coming in with the flash light.

1781

Today was my first day of NaNoWriMo. That's my word count, and it's not even noon yet.
Part of me feels accomplished. After slogging my way through the first few pages, the words came easier. I know this is only a small piece of what I hope to accomplish in this month of November, but I can't help but feel happy. This journey is begining, and although the road ahead will be long, I have taken that first step.

Did I tell you what my story is about?
It's the journal of a teenage survivor of chronic illness.

October brings... November!

Also known as NaNoWriMo month! Only a few more hours until the real work begins. I've already been doing things I never would have done if it hadn't been for this NaNo novel. Like... researching things I never would have cared about before, like IVF and Down Syndrome. I've been trying to figure out how I'm gonna write when I'm in the hospital for surgery (8 days from today... Scary!) or how in the world I'll get all those words down in November.
So here we go, almost ready to dive into the waters of NaNoWriMo.
I'll try to keep everyone updated on... well, everything
So here we go...

Here we go...

"Maybe Happiness didn't have to be about the big, sweeping circumstances. Maybe it was about stringing together a bunch of small pleasures. Wearing slippers and watching the Miss Universe contest. Eating a brownie with vanilla ice cream. Getting to level 7 and knowing there were still 20 levels to go. Maybe happiness was just a matter of the life upticks, the traffic signal the said "Walk" the second you got there~ and the downticks ~ the itchy tag at the back of your collar ~ That happened to every person in the course of a day. Maybe everybody had the same allotted measure of happiness within each day. Maybe it didn't matter if you were a world-famous heartthrob or a painful geek. maybe it didn't matter if you were possibily dying. Maybe you just got through it. Maybe that was all you could ask for. "
Taken from the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

I signed up for NaNoWriMo today. Everybody knows I like to write, and I do. I've had this story that's been hiding away in the back of my mind now. I've figured out plots and characters and even written entire scenes in my head. But 50,000 words in one month! I don't know if I can do that... But I'm gonna try anyway. I'm going to write (While still keeping up with my responsibilities.) and I may possibly go a little crazy. But I'm going to try, and we'll see where I end up at the end of November. Cheer me on, cause here I go...