Catching Idle Butterflies

The Never-ending Quiz

Warning: Long entry ahead. These next few entries will likely be the same, so be sure your supply of coffee or other caffeine-filled drink of choice is well-stocked.

Many of us see life as a test. We go through life facing and overcoming trials and challenges.

When I overcome a trial, I think, “Whew! That’s done.” I go on to think I will never have to face something similar. I after all have the answer to the specific dilemma, and can in turn solve it with little or no trouble.

Life doesn’t work that way; I won’t add unfortunately, because God wastes nothing. I always have something to gain from it, even if I may not see it until years later.

For instance, I know the discouraging whispers in my head should not be given audience. They are designed to make me give up whatever my goal is at the time. My brain whispers, “They wouldn’t be screaming at you if you weren’t meant to continue on. They’re frightened of you and only want you to fail.”

Yet, still they persist, and still I pay attention. Will I ever learn?

I received an email from Kenzie where she thanked me once again for her story tying for 2nd place in "Invalid Item" . She added, “It's always nice to get recognition. Especially when the writing has something to do with God.” The last sentence struck me, but in a way she may not have intended.

It reminded me of who my audience should be, no matter what I’m doing. God doesn’t count our failures or even our successes – at least not in the same way man does. God lives in the heart, and that’s what he looks at. He delights in my attempts to build a closer relationship with him, and in my sometimes bumbling efforts to be one of his ambassadors to the rest of the world. The end results matter less than the sincerity of my efforts. I should care only about his approval, not about man’s.

The conference was not all fun for me.

First off, I don’t sleep well in strange places – with or without a roommate, so I can’t blame letgocling for that. Living for the last 10 years in elevations no greater than 2000 feet, the higher altitude also affected me. All day on Saturday I endured a screaming headache three Tylenol at once could barely put a dent in.

Sitting in on an intense and informative workshop that morning filling up what brain matter I had didn’t help.

I made three appointments with magazine editors Thursday night, not publishers or agents. I already knew what the publishers would say, and my manuscript is still in the hands of an agent (more on that later).

I then perused through the magazines’ guidelines and picked the article I thought would best fit.

My first appointment was with “The Upper Room” a devotional magazine. I showed up on time, but another gal also arrived asking if there was any way she could talk to her right away. The editor, Susan King, noticed the 10am appointment box was empty and asked if I wouldn’t mind moving it. I said I would. I wasn’t in that big of a hurry (that and I figured showing what a nice person I am would help sneak my foot in the door to the magazine a little farther). The appointment went okay. The editor read my two devotions and gave me excellent suggestions on how to improve them. Funny. Her favorite was the one I liked the least. Still, I know what I need to do: mostly research. I don’t know if I’ll resubmit the ones I showed her or write new ones. When my brain starts working 100% (I’m only at 63.24% now) I’ll have a better idea.

I set up my second appointment in the afternoon with “Light and Life”, a magazine I had submitted to before. The article I sent made it to a submission on spec, but in the end was rejected. Oh well, I had another I thought would work.

By that time, my head hurt so bad I skipped the afternoon workshop and went instead to a lounge to write in my journal (I may add it as a blog entry later). I then researched the magazine further and decided my article wasn’t remotely a good fit for their magazine. The others I had also wouldn’t fit.

Oh well, I thought. I could at least ask how to improve the closest one.

The editor looked as exhausted as I felt. I told her honestly I didn’t think my article would work, but to get her thoughts anyway. She then relayed already what I thought was the problem with the article, but then she asked, “What other ideas do you have for articles?”

I then mentioned an idea about articles on the humor in the Bible. I mentioned specifics I wrote about in "King Solomon - Male Chauvinist Pig?" . She chuckled, but shot my idea down by saying, “Well, all people know that there’s humor in the Bible. It needs to be something new and fresh.”

That threw me. Most of what I’ve read and seen in churches, there’s little by way of laughter, especially in sermons. My pastor is more the exception than the rule in showing the funny stuff in the Bible.

“Our articles need to have a take away value,” she added. “You have to give practical application.”

“Okay,” I said, “What about the importance of laughter?”

“Again,” she said, “Everyone knows that.”

That also threw me. Sure, everyone may know laughter is important to our mental health, but what about pointing out scriptural references proving it as well? I didn’t ask it, because my brain simply wasn’t working at this point.

I took a sample copy of their magazine and a copy of their writer’s guidelines, and she was kind enough to give me her business card pointing out the email address to send any articles. I guess it wasn’t a total wash.

My current state of mind didn’t see that, though. I sat next to Karla as she waited for her next appointment and said, “I now know nonfiction ain’t my thing.” I told her what happened then said, “I’m going to cancel my last appointment.”

She said not to, and gave me reasons why. With two appointments not going well, having slept only two or three hours that night, and a pain-filled skull I responded by crying, darn her. She convinced me to hang in. I didn’t cancel my last appointment, but after sitting on a publishing panel later that day with that editor among others, I decided to switch. From what she said, I had even less to offer her magazine than I did with “Light and Life”.

This entry has gone long enough. I just lost 12% of my brain capacity.

To be continued . . .