Episode 5: Making Use of a Broken Gift

I figure it’s time to tell you a bit about myself since we’re a few episodes in and maybe not all of you know me in real life. Unfortunately, every attempt I make at writing this thing out turns into a list of labels. So, I’m just going to run with that and start with giving you some of my labels.

I’m a wife and mother. I’ve been married to my husband for eleven years, and we have two children. My seven year old son is very creative and imaginative, as well as energetic and a very sensitive soul. My daughter just turned four so she basically thinks she’s grown now and is ready to do everything. She’s super bossy, but also very nurturing and loves to take care of people. We also have a dog, can’t leave my furry boy out. We adopted Bode nine years ago as a rescue dog. He’s a total weirdo but he’s a good fit for our family that way.

I’m also a homeschooler. I never thought I would be. I always thought homeschoolers were weird so that was a big no for me. Then, when my son was preschool aged and we looked into programs, we found that we couldn’t afford it. So I started exploring the homeschool world. I was amazed by what I found. There are so many styles, curriculum choices, and research which shows how beneficial homeschooling can be. Now, clearly, I believe in it because we do it. That said, I don’t sit in judgment of anyone who makes a different education choice for their kids. Homeschooling can be really hard and there are days I question my own choices (insider info: all homeschoolers question their sanity at some point. We’re not filled with everlasting patience for our own children all the time). But I do really love having the extra time with my kids, the opportunity to be creative in our learning, and being able to pursue any interests and passions we uncover. Maybe someday I’ll do a whole episode about homeschooling to debunk some myths or offer encouragement for those who are interested, but today is not that day, so we’ll move on.

I’m also a Christian. Now when I say Christian, I realize that can be a loaded term. I do not mean someone who just goes to church or who follows a bunch of rules or hates people. I don’t hate people. I’m not very good at following rules (I have a big fat sin nature just like everyone else) and while I do go to church, I don’t think that makes me a better person that someone who does not. When I say Christian I mean that there came a point in my life where I realized things were pretty messed up and I needed Jesus. It also means that in my darkest moments and hardest seasons, I’ve not been alone. I seriously have to tell you guys about the fireflies of 2016 someday….but today is not that day, so we’re moving on again.

I am also an author. And being an author is what led me to this podcast. Let me give you the backstory.

When I was in third grade I had this wonderful teacher. Her name was Mrs. Morris. She has since passed away after a battle with cancer. But I was lucky enough to have her. She was like one of those teachers you find in story books. She was young and pretty and full of life. She had new ideas and ways of doing things. She wasn’t afraid to be a little outside the box and she encouraged us to be a little outside the box too. I still remember her reading Charlie and the Choclate Factory aloud to us. And I remember she had these stations set up in the classroom. One was a reading station with a big carpet and some big squishy teddy bears and bean bags where we could just curl up and read. Now, I’ve loved books and stories for longer than I can remember so anytime I’ve ever been encouraged to just sit and read, it’s been my favorite. But Mrs. Morris also had writing stations. We would write in our spiral notebooks about all kinds of things. They could be lilke journal entries or short stories or just telling her what our plans were for the weekend---cause you know, eight year olds have some great weekend plans. And she would write in the margins all manner of encouragement and feedback to nurture our writing. She also had each of us write our own book. She made cardboard covers and put blank pages inside so each of us could write and illustrate our own story. Mine was called The Old Horse in the Beat-Down Stable. It sounds so bleak, doesn’t it? I still have it somewhere. I was so proud of my story and it lit a tiny spark of passion for writing.

Fast forward to 11th grade, English Lit with Mrs. Clark. I knew by then that I really loved reading, especially old classics but it was in her class that I realized I was different. We were studying couplets and while most of my classmates needed a minute to figure them out, I seemed to be getting it instantly. This was the moment I realized not everyone was like me and I was good at something. And I don't care who you are or what your thing is--if it's couplets from English poetry or trigonometry or fixing cars or styling hair--when you have that moment when you discover a talent, skill, or strong interest, it's a good moment. And that was one of my moments. Also, in this class, Mrs. Clark had us each write an allegorical short story. We had just studied Jonathan Swift and learned how he used allegory to make political points through story. I wrote a short story for this assignment that I absolutely loved. In fact, I turned it into a full length novel by the end of my freshman year of college. Then it morphed into a full series. Actually, for the next ten years, I continued tinkering with the story until it became this huge, unwieldy thing that didn't make much sense any more. Characters kept changing, the idea of what it was really about kept evolving, there were fairies at one point. It was a lot. But it kept the passion for writing alive and active in me.

However, there have been times when the writing stops, when the part of me that is a writer seems to go to sleep. It's usually because of excessive busyness, or sometimes it's because it feels like it doesn't matter so I should just watch TV, but whenever I stop writing, it's like I'm missing something that is inherent and essential to being me.

There was a gap for a few years when I stopped. Life was breakneck busy after my son was born. I was transitioning from working full time to being a stay at home mom and I also ended up leading our church's youth group in our living room. I had a blog then I posted in sometimes, and I wrote my own youth lessons most of the time, but that was it. I wasn't really writing. For two years, I didn't work at all on my novels.

Then, when my son was two, I realized I needed something that was just mine. I loved being a mom, but it's so demanding. And my boy as a two year old was an absolute dynamo from the moment he woke up to when I finally convinced him to fall asleep at night. And not only was I exhausted, but I had lost a sense of self. It was like I was a mom who was supposed to do mom things and think mom thoughts and just have mom feelings. And wife feelings too. But there was nothing left for me. So my husband and I talked and agreed I should have a night every week to do whatever I wanted. We didn't have a lot of money then so I didn't want to just do shopping sprees and I didn't have a lot of friends then so I couldn't just go out with the girls (plus, my friends were all busy too). I did, however, have a laptop, and there was an amazing coffee shop nearby. We lived outside of Bowling Green, Ohio then and in Bowling Green there is a coffee shop called Grounds for Thought that has not only coffee and a really good chai latte, but used books. Tons and tons and tons of used books. So I would grab my laptop, order a big mug of chai, get a donut with strawberry icing, and settle in to write.

The novels I had been messing around with since high school were unusable. It was all nonsense at that point that no amount of editing could unravel. But there were a few fantastic characters worth air-lifting into a new book. I changed their names and decided to start anew. Yet, when I opened that new Word document and bright shiny white page was staring back at me, I had no idea how to start. It's very intimidating to sit down and try to just write a book. So I decided to just start with a single scene and whatever characters came to mind. In my mind's eye, I could see a grandfather and his adult granddaughter. They were outside in a plaza. My hometown, Cuyahoga Falls, has this riverfront area with stores and a cobbled streets. That's where I saw them. And the granddaughter was in a hot pink vintage party dress. And as I crafted the scene what bubbled to the surface was how much they adored each other. These characters were based on my own grandfather and me, although I don't own a fabulous pink party dress and my PapPap was a man of much fewer words. But this relationship gave shape to a brand new story. It was a launch point.

I took my laptop to Grounds for Thought every week for months. I pounded away at a rough draft morning, noon, and night in spare moments. I stayed up to two or three in the morning. I finished it on my thirtieth birthday. It would be three more years before the final draft was finished and ready for publication. It took four years in total.

I published that book in 2018. It was the first novel in the Sayen Falls series, and it's title is Once More. It's basically my third baby. But as I said, Sayen Falls is a series. There are four novels in total. Or there will be. When I published Once More, I assumed I'd start right away on the next one. I have the entire story arc in my head. I have the story arc for the whole series in my head. I can tell you who gets married, who has babies, what everyone argues about, what kind of tea they drink for breakfast. The trouble is, I can't seem to get it to come out of my head and onto the page.

Every time I try, what comes out isn't good. I suppose it's a form of writer's block and I've analyzed it six ways from Sunday. It feels like my words--the words I've had since third grade--have dried up and gone away. Every now and then there's a cloudburst and I can write something good and beautiful. It just never lasts for long.

And so I've tried to give this gift back to God. Here you go, it's broken and I can't use it anymore. The
trouble with that is that God doesn't accept returns and he doesn't make exchanges. He gently hands it back to me, in his own way, and tells me that he doesn't give gifts that are broken and he doesn't give gifts just so I can hand them back and say I don't want this. He gives gifts so we use them, even when it's hard, and when it doesn't flow, and even when you feel crazy doing it. If it's a gift, you're meant to use it.

So that's where I am. I'm simply trying to be obedient to use what I have. I don't want to be the guy who buried his talent in the ground because he didn't have any better ideas and fear stopped him from making better choices. I might not be the five talent guy who gets the biggest return on his investment--and that's okay. Maybe, just maybe, I can be the three talent guy who used what he had and didn't compare himself to the five talent guy and didn't give up like the one talent guy, and had something to offer the master when he returned. I'd rather have something, even if it's small, than nothing.

And that's what i'm doing now. When writing the novels started to feel so strained, I turned my attention to blogging. In fact, that's where you find all of my show notes, so you can look around at the blog posts as well. But even that has felt so hit or miss and hard to do. Then, one day, I decided to try podcasting. I'm going to be very honest--I have no idea why. If writing wasn't working, it doesn't really make sense to think that talking will work. If the words are gone, then what in the world am I saying? Still, I did it anyway. And here we are.

In a way, I wish I fit into a nice little niche and could tell you that I'm always going to talk about motherhood or homeschooling or books, but I've never been good at pigeon holes. I'm also not sure that's what God has for me. He not only gifted me words, but a vivid imagination and a thirst for beauty and passion for an inspired life. It will all be used somehow, some way. As author Erma Bombeck said, "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me.'"

In the first episode I talked about Plotting Possibility and plotting a course. God is plotting the course here, the course of my life, the course of my story, and the course of this podcast. We're all in this together to see where we're going. I promise to be obedient and to use my gifts, and I hope and I pray that it's a blessing to you as we go together on this journey.

Gather the Good

Since this post is all about me, I thought I'd just tell you about a few of my favorite things in the entire world. These are really just a few random things that I truly love and I don't know when else I'll be able to talk about them.

My favorite vacation spot is Ocean City, New Jersey. In fact, it was the inspiration for Summerstead Isle in my novels. It's the perfect family vacation destination with beautiful beaches, a long boardwalk with miniatrue golf, amusement parks, and delicious food. If you ever go, you have to do Golden Galleon mini golf, grab a slice of Manco and Manco's pizza, and bike all the way to the end of the boardwalk to get some hot fresh donuts from Browns. It's worth the exercise.

My kids enjoying the ocean on our last night in OCNJ this past summer. 

The kids and husband playing skee ball on our first night in OCNJ. Only $0.10 a game!

The Music Pier reaching into the sea. 

That said, my favorite trip I've ever taken was to London and Ireland when I graduated high school. My uncle is a world traveler himself, and took my brother and me each on trips when we graduated. I got to pick so we trotted off for a week in London and a week in Ireland. I still look at the pictures all the time and tell the kids all about it like I was just there last week (It's been 16 years). It's true that the Irish are the friendliest people ever. And London is an amazing city. Someday I must go back.

18 year old me on The London Eye

While I was there, I got to go to the Globe Theater where Shakespeare's plays were first performed. Now, I'm actually not a total geek for Shakespeare but I do have a soft spot for him. His writing comes up quite a bit in my own actually. The title Once More is from a quote in Henry V, "once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!" The Hollow Crown series is excellent. It stars Jeremy Irons and Tom Hiddleston, but also Michelle Dockery (think: Lady Mary from Downton Abbey) has a supporting role. It's pretty amazing to watch Scar, Loki, and Lady Mary do Shakespeare. But my very favorite play of all time is Much Ado About Nothing. The title for the second novel, Mend, is from a quote in that play. "Serve God, love me, and mend." I absolutely insist you watch the Kenneth Branagh version from the 90s. It was my first real introduction to Shakespeare when I was about 14 or so, and I love it as much now as I did then.

My last bit of goodness for today, the Cuyahoga Valley National Parks. As I said, I grew up in Cuyahoga Falls and as a teenager, my friends and I regularly went to the valley to hike and talk about our cute boys and feelings and other things that were important to us. I sorta thought everyone had a valley nearby for doing such things, but when I went to college, in the flattest county in Ohio, I realized that's not so. I desperately missed my green, twisty, windy valley in the ten years I lived in very flat, very straight lined Wood County. If you're an outdoorsy type, or ever find yourself in the Cleveland-Akron area with a few hours and nothing to do, you must drive into the valley and explore. And if you can go in the fall, enjoy how golden everything becomes as the sun pours through golden leaves. It's good stuff.

Who They Really Were: A Journey

I never imagined I would make a serious attempt at writing historical fiction. When I was in early high school, I started a manuscript of a story set in the 1840s but that's because I was working at a living history museum and thought I knew everything. I think I still have it in a bright purple envelope, but I refuse to go looking. Reading it, I'm sure, would we incredibly cringe-worthy.

*shudder*

You see, despite the fact that I have a real love for history, and even minored in history in college, I'm really not much a historian. I get bored too easily by non-fiction to read much of it. It often seems like a lot of dry detail packaged with a nice cover. So I figured I would never write historical fiction because I would never know enough about any given period to write about it well. And when I started working on The Sayen Falls Series in 2014, I made a solemn commitment to myself that I would not write any story if I couldn't tell it well, tell it truthfully, tell it with the honor it deserves. That's why I made certain creative choices with my characters and not others.

But there's one story I've always wanted to tell. A true story. The story of two people I love very much and who loved me very much. My grandparents--Milford and Betty Buterbaugh. I mean, I've thought about this since I was probably seventeen years old. That's half my life at this moment in time. I was just never sure how to go about it. Screenplay? Novel? I don't write historical fiction. Guess this won't work.

Then last year it hit me to construct a story that's told largely through the paperwork of a life, the mementos and souvenirs, the scrapbooks and photo albums, the stuff and clutter. So I decided this was my vehicle. This is how I would finally be able to tell their story. And then I was hit with a new unexpected problem. 

I didn't really know them.

We were very close. They absolutely doted on me and I couldn't have adored them more. The thing

is--I knew them as my grandparents. Kind, generous, old people who told interesting stories about days gone by....but they weren't like the young people in the photos, the young woman who scribbled over the faces of his ex-girlfriends in the yearbook, the young couple who eloped and had to hide it. I've always known that they eloped. BOTH sets of my grandparents did, in fact. (And my dad's parents have an incredible story as well that I know even less about and will perhaps be another quest someday). But since I've always known it, it didn't really seem that surprising. Until I stopped and thought about it, and tried to figure out how my "never do a wrong thing" grandmother ran away to marry my grandfather. That made me scratch my head. That made me realize: my grandparents were real people. They were more than my grandparents. They were young once and in love. They took risks. They were newlyweds and first-time parents and struggled to make ends meet. They had a whole story and it must be fascinating. 

Yet, when I sat down to piece together the narrative there were huge cavernous gaps. A major reason for this is that by the time I was born in 1984, Grammy was 63 and PapPap was 71. I didn't really have grown-up question to ask them until she was in her late 80s and he was in his 90s. By then, my grandmother's memory had started to fade. Plus, I still didn't really know the right questions to ask. "What was life like during the depression?" is a stupidly open-ended question that always yielded vague answers. 

Thankfully, some of the gaps can be filled in partly by my mom (who had the smarts to ask them detailed questions AND write down answers), or my aunt and uncle. But some things...no one knows. My grandparents were deeply private people and had no problem telling us "that's none of your business" if we asked something a little too intimate. This is not my default setting--I'm an open book type--so I'm especially perplexed by this. So, even if I had asked some of the questions then that I have now, I might not have gotten answers. Although, maybe I'd be pushy enough now to really ask because I desperately would like to know what kinds of things they fought about when they were first married, was she scared the first time she was pregnant, how did she know mom things without the internet? 

Anyway...I digress a bit. As usual. 

Now, faced with this mystery, I feel challenged to discover them for who they really were. I want to know who the young Milford and Betty were. How did that sweet 18 year old fall in love and run away with the quiet 26 year old who drove his car too fast? So I'm researching. I have a stack of non-fiction books on my side table that's very high. I'm combing through the precious few documents I have that they wrote and saved, and I'm hoping to get more from those who have them so I can piece together the story.

Which brings me back to writing historical fiction. Yes, I do intend to make a book out of this. BUT for several reasons it will be fiction. The most important reason is that because my grandparents were private, I think it would be disrespectful to them to not fictionalize it in some ways, change their names, etc. And the second important reason is, I simply cannot know the whole and complete and true story. It's impossible. So I have to take some creative license, make educated guesses, and fill it in as I go. (Hence the mile high stack of books). Milford and Betty are the inspiration, but truly at this point in time, only God knows what's going to come of this. I'm just setting out to discover not only their story, but the story God wants me to tell. Basically, all I have so far are names and a very sketchy outline. (Van and Ivy, if you're wondering. Aren't those great names??)

I decided the other day--whilst sitting in my closet staring at my great-great-aunt and uncle's wedding registry from 1913--that I should chronicle this in my blog. Most posts will not be this long, I just wanted to lay out the back story before I jump in. The fact is every question leads to another one and another one. I've been rapid fire texting my mom and googling things and making lists out the wazoo to even make the semblance of a narrative right now. And I think this journey is in some ways just as interesting as anything I will write coming out of it.

It's not that I'm so interesting or that I think anyone on this planet (other than my mom) will be interested in me figuring out minutiae like how long my great-great grandparents were married before my great-great aunt and uncle got married (why is that interesting even to me? Because they were two sisters that married two brothers but there seems to be a big gap between the two weddings....). It's that I think there are lots of people out there like me who one day realized that those who went before us were real people and we want to know what they were really like. And by sharing my own journey to know my grandparents, maybe other people will be inspired to dig in and see what they can find too. There are things we can yet learn from those who came before us.

The Bible tells us that human life is fleeting. We're all here today and gone tomorrow. But we leave traces of ourselves behind and it tells a story. And those stories matter.