God Serving Angels: The 99 Year Anniversary of the Sinking of the Titanic

Early this morning marked the 99 year anniversary of the sinking of the R.M.S. Titanic. It sank at 2:20am in the North Atlantic after striking an iceberg at 11:40pm the night prior. I've collected Titanic memorabilia since I was twelve years old. I'm a little obsessed. There's just something about it that screams FATE. Some things in this world are meant to happen. Other things are meant to fall apart. If you'd like to read a post on all the things that led to Titanic's demise go here. (It's my post from last year.)

As I was going through my Titanic books this morning (always do this time of year), I opened up a 1905 Old Scrap Book titled Heart Throbs. Here I am, holding it against my heart:


I tell you what...every time I read this book I find more things I love about it. It has my favorite quotes. My favorite Bible verses. My favorite poems. All bound into one really old book. It smells good too, but I won't show you the picture of me smelling it.

Anyhow, as I was digging through it a bit today, I was thinking about the Titanic, about the anniversary of it sinking, how far the Titanic Historical Society has come, preserving artifacts from the site and educating the world about the tragedy and found this:

God Serving Angels

"'Tis written that the serving angels stand
Beside God's throne, ten myriads on each hand,
Waiting, with wings outstretched and watchful eyes,
To do their Master's heavenly embassies.
Quicker than thought His high commands they read,
Swifter than light to execute them speed,
Bearing the word of power from star to star--
Some hither and some thither, near and far.
And unto these naught is too high or low,
Too mean or mighty, if He wills it so;
Neither is any creature, great or small,
Beyond His pity, which embraceth all,
Because His eye beholdeth all which are,
Sees without search, and cometh without care;
Nor any ocean rolls so vast that He
Forgets one wave of all that restless sea."
--Edwin Arnold


*Painting by Ken Marshall

Isn't the poem just beautiful? And the sinking no less awe inspiring, in the most heart-wrenchingly tragic way.

Take some time today to remember the Titanic and all that the terrible tragedy has taught us. Don't challenge God. Don't tempt fate. And most of all, never think that man can create something that mother nature can't bring down with a flick of her finger.

Dreaming about your hero. And a contract!

I had the craziest dream last night. I'm typing it down as fast as I can so I don't forget any details...I'm sure if I went on with my day, the dream would vanish and I'd barely remember my Hero being in it.

That's right. I had the very first dream about my hero, Ruan, from Immortal, Beloved.

It was freaking awesome.

The dream started out with my travels in a foreign country. (I'm thinking Russia, although I've never known Russia to be that country-fied-rural and my book isn't set there.) I came upon his ranch, where he lived with his step-father, mother and a bunch of brothers and sisters. I was lost. He offered to show me the way back to society, after he finished a couple things he had to do for the day. So I followed him around while he expertly ran this hundred acre ranch. We talked. And talked. And talked.

He was such a gentleman! Helping me over fallen limbs. Carrying me over rivers so my shoes didn't soak. Holding my hand to guide me around trees and over fences. Wanna hear the crazy thing? I was me. I had a husband of nine years--we talked about him and how great he is. I had two children--he mentioned how he wanted kids eventually. I felt like from a few hours time, we were long lost friends.

Soon, his quietly bold attitude and some of the things he said started to trigger my brain. I felt like I knew this guy. The logical part of my head kept trying to place him somewhere in my waking life, but couldn't.

When it was time to leave, for him to show me the way home, I asked for his name and was blown away.

Ruan.

What a surprise--even to myself. I was so shocked! It all made sense! The chivalry! His rugged good looks! His mannerisms! The way I felt like I'd known him forever!

Thank you Ruan, for showing me how unforgettable you are. You came to life for me. And soon, you'll come to life for everyone else.

**I signed my Harper Collins contract yesterday! It's on its way to Spencerhill, then back to the publishing house. (Very side note: I'm going to write a post soon about how important it is to have a good agent who fights for you and your interests. Those contracts are sticky. I got very lucky.) It rained yesterday too! All-around perfect day around these parts.

How do you write? What works for you?

Me and Leigh Michaels? Yup. We're kismet writers.

This Saturday was the San Francisco Area of Romance Writers' April meeting. I don't usually gush and gush about all the great things I learned at the meeting or how great the speakers were or how blessed I feel to be dining with such influential people in the publishing industry. (Although I really should.)

But oh my goodness, I can't help myself today.

It's easy for writing to feel like a solitary career. I mean, I sit at my computer, staring out my window and write stories about fictional characters. It's easy to compare my work to the work of others (and then feel that my work is not good enough). But what I find myself doing more often than not is comparing my writing style to other writers and their styles.

How does Nora Roberts pump out three (Or Four! Or Five!) books a year? How did Amanda Hocking make Amazon her bitch? (Yes, oh yes, she did.) What are other writers' work schedules like? And are they, in any way shape or form, like mine?

I've asked almost every writer I've met about their writing process and almost every writer has said that what works for them doesn't work for everyone. And it doesn't! It's all right. To each their own. Whatever works. (Haven't you told yourself this a hundred times over?) As long as you can write a Smashing book, and another, and another, who cares how you get there?

I spent Saturday with Leigh Michaels. *Insert big happy sigh here. What a breath of fresh air. She's brilliant and talented and charismatic and I really wish she lived closer. (Although Iowa is beautiful and I suppose now I could visit for more reasons than to see the famed John Deere plant.) Her workshop on the Sexes was great. I took a ton of notes. But I also learned how eerily close her writing process is to my own.

Cue daily schedule that's probably, really, not all that interesting: I get up, drink coffee and read, catch up on my email, write until lunch, sneak in more writing in the afternoon, break for a bit, then perhaps come back to it after dinner.

Sounds pretty cut and dry right? That there'd have to be a ton of writers who have the same schedule? Surprisingly, not so much. I've heard more writers say they write at night--staying up until the sun rises to spark their muse. I've heard writers say they have to write before lunch only, otherwise their creativity dries up. I've heard that some writers create only a work. Only at home. Only at a coffee shop. Only at the park. While listening to music. While watching mindless television. Only in complete silence! Onlyonlyonlyonly.

All I can say is, everyone does have their own, unique creative process. You should do what works for you. And if my career is a *smidgen* as successful as Leigh Michaels' and I turn out to be half as sweet and humble and fantastic as she was, I'll be well on my way to a writing career I can be proud of.

What's your writing process like? Do you think it mirrors another writer's?

Why Researching What You Write Is So Important

According to Wikipedia, "The rod of Asclepius is an ancient symbol associated with astrology, the Greek god Asclepius, and with medicine and healing." Greek mythology states Asclepius practiced medicine and chose the symbol because as people heal and become rejuvenated, its the same process a snake goes through when shedding its dry and withered skin.*

Loads of medical organizations across the world use the symbol including the American Medical Association and American Veterinary Association to name a couple.




Although all the organizations use the basic image differently, the rod is always there, just tweaked a little bit.



But...




You've probably seen this symbol used for medicine too:



This symbol has two snakes instead of the one, and has wings stretching around the back. It's called a Caduceus. The US Army medical corps adopted this logo in the early nineteen hundreds and since then, the symbol has spread throughout the medical industry like wildfire.

You may be thinking, like I was at first, that the symbols look the same. Why are medical professionals making such a fuss about other organizations using the Caduceus instead of the Rod?

Because the historical connotation of the Caduceus is that of "commerce, theft, deception and death."**

Sure, if you go back far enough there are mentions of the wings representing the negotiation and commerce aspect of Hermes (although his means were not honorable) and the snakes representing the alchemist side of Mercury, but researchers have found more associations to trickery and corruption than the healing arts.***

So...as you write, make sure you research well. A few tiny alterations that may not seem like a big thing at the time (adding a serpent and wings) can change a symbol from something innocent and well-intentioned to something corrupt and vile. Get it right. Research the hell out of your genre and the area where your story is set.

And the next time you go into a doctor's office, take a look at the writing--or symbols--on the wall.

Pretty cool findings, huh?


*"Asklepios' reptile was a healing creature: in ancient mythology the snake, whose skin was shed and rejuvenated, symbolized eternity and restoration of life and health" Albert R. Jonsen, The New Medicine and the Old Ethics, Harvard University Press, 1990, p122;
**Engle, Bernice (Dec 1929). "The Use of Mercury's Caduceus as a Medical Emblem". The Classical Journal 25 (1): 205.
***Friedlander, Walter J (1992). The Golden Wand of Medicine: A History of the Caduceus Symbol in Medicine‬. Greenwood Press

Dorian Gray and The Cost of Writing

I watched the film Dorian Gray last night, having been curious about the character for a while. I'd watched The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen when it first came out and was intrigued by the idea of an immortal man bound to an old and rotten depiction of himself. I'd heard of Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray and knew the basic premise was about a guy who whimsically sells his soul to the devil after a picture of himself was painted. In this deal, he could live life as he wished, giving in to the pleasures of the flesh, while the picture showed each effect on his soul and he remained vibrant and young.

As I watched the film, I couldn't help but dwell on the price his deal cost. At first he could care less about his acts (sex, drugs and rock and roll, right?), but as the picture began to decay and transform into a demon, trapped in the picture, a demon he would become when it was time to pony up his soul, I could see the weight bearing on him.

He began to question whether the cost was worth the gain. And, in his case, finally realized it didn't.

But in everything we do whole-heartedly there is a cost, right? Olympians have to live and breathe their sport, often times giving up their loved ones to live in different states or countries. (Husband and I know this first hand and made the right choice for us--cue children running and screaming and giggling!) Lawyers and doctors sometimes give up dreams of an early marriage or family in order to focus on their careers first. (I'm speaking for a few friends, not everyone of course.)

I see the same thing in my writing. I get asked a lot how I find time to write. I'll tell you. My house isn't perfect. My laundry baskets are never empty. My dishes are usually piled into the evening. And if you wanted something specific from my pantry, you'd probably be disappointed. I have only the staples. But my kids and husband are happy. Taken care of. They're put first, with writing coming in second and housework a very distant third.

That's the cost for me. If I want to write a book in three months, spending hours in front of my word doc, editing my heart out as I go, then I have to choose something to let slack. It won't be my family. Can't be. There goes the impeccable housecleaning.

Nora Roberts once said "Life is a juggling act. You're going to drop some balls. The struggle is knowing which ones are rubber and which are glass."

So true.

Which aspect of your life falters a little when you write?