Last June, I had the amazing privilege of publishing my first book The Treasure Hunt. Since then I have finished the first drafts of three more stories I hope to publish in the near future.
First there was "The Book of Dreams". This is one of my stories that just thrills my heart more than all the others. It is based on all the concepts I have ever learned or loved from C.S. Lewis' The Last Battle and his essay "The Weight of Glory", Andrew Peterson's poetic songs, and a bit from George MacDonald's At the Back of the North Wind. This is when I first discovered the power of setting the mood with a little description. I started with a small concept and then let my mind run wild with the possibilities.
From the beginning...
Now she sat in the front room with her own book in her
hands. The firelight danced on the walls and caused her hair to shine golden. A
little table separated her chair from the one belonging to the Keeper of
Dreams, but he was near enough to watch her closely as she read. And watch her
closely he did. From the first moment she had opened the golden pages, his eyes
never moved; but his smiled deepened.
After admiring the cover for a long while, she
finally flipped open the book and fingered the first page as she read the words
written in golden script. Here and there throughout the book there were
pictures and her smile would grow as she murmured pleasantly, “Yes, that is how
I remember it.”
The shadows
grew and still Lindsay read. As she looked at all her dreams from the time she
was a baby until the very night before, she realized that they all wove
together into one big dream. The Keeper of Dreams still smiled on her and
watched as she read on, caught up into the story.
All before
she wanted it to the book ended, and she closed it with a happy sigh. When she
looked up she saw that the Keeper of Dreams had been watching her and she said
politely, “Thank you very much for letting me read this and especially for
recording it all.”
He smiled
and took the book from her outstretched hands then showed her to the door. The
spring day was as lovely as when she had come to his house, but now it seemed
all the more beautiful. The sky was a clear blue dotted with puffy white
clouds, and a slight breeze blew across the flowers making them dance together.
There were ever so many colors to look at as she walked home: greens, and
blues, and every shade of pink imaginable. The apple and the pear blossoms
rained down about her onto the path, and each thing her eyes lighted on
reminded her of something she had seen in one of her dreams.
After that I worked on a story called "Letters for Victory" a mixture of my own experiences of home life and fictional story set during World War II. It was a lot of fun to write and (at that point) my longest story yet. I loved the story so much that instead of doing a typical epilogue narrating everything in 50 or so words, I wrote a (really long!!) bonus chapter to give myself a chance to say "goodbye" to the characters. : )
Here's a snippet...
“So you think we should write to him,” Jake stated with
excitement written all over his face.
“Exactly! I
asked mother and she said we could as long as we pay the postage and let her
look over the letters first. This all depends of course, on if Tommy wants to
be pen-pals,” Kathryn answered in a business-like tone.
“Let’s do
it!” Jake replied, jumping up from the couch.
“Can I draw
the pictures?” Hanna asked.
“Yes,
dear,” her older sister said and was rewarded with a toothy smile.
“Kathryn
should be the ‘editor’,” Jake offered, taking a huge bite of his apple at the
exact moment that everyone looked at him.
“What do
you think, Avery?” Kathryn said and they all turned to look at him.
Ever the
practical one, Avery stroked his chin and said, “And how will we pay for the
postage?”
Kathryn
answered by reaching up and taking their general piggy bank off the mantle and
emptying it onto the floor. “There’s enough here to send a few letters and then
we’ll have to figure out some way to make money,” she pronounced.
“Then I’m
all for it,” Avery replied, with vigor.
And so they
decided to write the letter. After several minutes of haggling, crossing out,
and rewriting Kathryn was ready to read the finished project aloud.
“Dear
Tommy,
We are the
Moorbank children—Kathryn (14), Avery (12 ½), Jake (8), and Hanna (4). We live
on Currant Street
in Willoughby Village with our mother and older sister
who is married to a soldier, Peter Kilroy. We have a nice big house with rose
bushes that bloom pink when they do. We also have the best tree house in the
neighborhood that we love to play in. We can’t play in it right now since it is
raining so much, but we have grand times during the summer. In autumn and
winter we play in the living room. That's where we're writing this letter from
now.
We were
wondering if you want to be pen-pals. We are quite sure we can think of plenty
of interesting things to tell you, though you should have some things to say
too. Don't worry about postage, we have it all figured out.
Enclosed is
a photograph of us all and Avery would like you to know that he has grown a
whole inch since that was taken so Kathryn isn't really so much taller than
him. Kathryn says that doesn't matter much. Jake would like to know what war is
like. Hanna says that if you will pretend to be her big brother she will send
you a piece of her candy on Christmas.
Please
write back as soon as possible, though we will be patient since you are
probably busy. Goodbye now, we have to go snap green beans.
Sincerely,
Your
Friends"
After that I started a story called "Mara". It was once again a mixture of lessons from my life and story I came up with. Wonderful experience, and I was so excited to finish it last December (in the midst of moving and Christmas). It's my longest story ever, but I hope to break that record someday once I get over my writer's block. : )
An excerpt for ya'...
Sienna stood near her father with her hands clasped around
the handle of a small brown satchel. Her thick black hair was parted in the
middle and pulled back from her face by a dull colored ribbon. Her dress was a
sort of golden brown that would have been nice if it had been paired with
another color, but the fact that it was too big and too brown made her look
almost swallowed up by it. The only thing interesting about her were her eyes.
They were dark brown and very big and stared at Mara with admiration and
contempt.
Mara was
reclining on the low-backed couch with a white crocheted afghan tucked around
her. Her dress and her cheeks were the color of the roses on the table beside
her, and her eyes held a bright sparkle of welcome for the timid young girl
that stood in front of her. Beckoning, so she would not disturb her parents’
and Mr. Rhames’ conversation, she smiled at her new student and prayed that
they would get along.
“Just like
a queen,” Sienna thought as she studied her new teacher and her thought was
seemingly rationalized by Mara’s kind beckoning. “I wonder if she can actually
teach. She looks as if she had never worked a day in her life.” Sienna’s mind
sped on in this disagreeable fashion, but she made her feet walk towards the
young woman.
Mara tucked
a pile of letters that had occupied the footstool into a basket nearby, and
said, “There, would you like to sit down? We have so much getting acquainted to
do.”
Sienna sat
down stiffly on the footstool but turned her face in undisguised interest to
the speaker. The frank, welcoming words spoke somehow into the lonely girl’s
heart and softened it a little.
“So, you
are Sienna. I’m Mara (it’s said like mare with an ‘a’ on the end), and I am so
excited to get to be your teacher,” Mara said smiling and tucking her light
brown hair behind her ear.
So which story do you think sounds the most interesting?
