My Guest Appearance

As an author, I occasionally receive an invitation to visit a book club whose members are reading and discussing one of my novels. I know it’s an honor, but I also find these events nerve-wracking. What if they don’t like my book? What if they ask questions I can’t answer or spot errors I can’t defend?

My most recent invitation, however, presented an entirely new problem. The group was reading my debut novel, The Silver Suitcase. Yikes. I’ve penned six other books since that one. While the story would be fresh in their minds, I could barely remember the characters’ names. They sent out a quiz on the book to members ahead of time and included me in the email. At least one of their questions stumped me.

So, with two weeks remaining before the scheduled Zoom meeting, I decided to listen to the audio version of The Silver Suitcase. That way, I could refresh my memory while working around my kitchen. I confess I experienced a few cringe-worthy moments as I listened, which is not all bad. It means I’ve honed a few writing skills since composing that story.

At least I felt better prepared to chat with these readers who also enjoy public speaking. And that’s what makes this group unique. It’s a Toastmasters Club called “Talking Books.” My curiosity about how this combination might work was certainly piqued.

I learned that a requirement of joining this book club is that you must also belong to at least one “regular” Toastmasters club. Eighteen participants logged in on Saturday afternoon. After the general welcome, the Grammarian presented our word of the day: “departure.” The idea is to use the word as often as possible throughout the meeting when called upon to speak. I was well familiar with this practice.

But when it came time for Table Topics, I discovered they conduct theirs differently. Instead of having a random question thrown at you and having to speak for one and a half to two minutes with no preparation, this club divides into groups of four. Each group has ten minutes to discuss a different question about the book and select their spokesperson. When the larger group reconvenes, each spokesperson then addresses the question, summarizing the thoughts of the sub-group.

With the author present at this meeting, they replaced what would normally be a prepared speech with a panel discussion, giving the moderator an opportunity to practice a new skill. She appointed me to the panel along with three others and we took turns answering her well-thought-out questions. This was followed by an opportunity for me to speak for five minutes and answer more questions. Naturally, I used the chance to promote my other books because no author in their right mind would not.

After receiving the answers to the ten-question quiz (which I aced, thanks to having just listened to the book), hearing the Grammarian’s report, the General Evaluator’s report, and the Timer’s report, the Toastmaster gave closing comments and adjourned the meeting two hours after it began—twice the length of my club’s meetings!

Clearly, this group served to remind me that while each club is unique in its formatting, pace, and purpose, Toastmasters clubs across the globe provide a wonderful place to learn, grow, and have fun together. If you want to improve your public speaking skills in a safe environment, join Toastmasters. You can find a group near you HERE. You won’t regret it.

I forgot to take a screen shot of my guest appearance!

 

 

Truth is Stranger

I’m quite capable of making stuff up, but I have a tale to tell that I wouldn’t and couldn’t have invented. But it’s true, and it gives me goosebumps. And it shows me that God cares for my heart. And that he also has a sharp sense of humor.

Before I delve into it, you need to know that for at least a decade now, my church (Prairie Alliance) has used as its motto, “UPSIDEDOWN.” If you check its website, you’ll see that the phrase is based on a story from Acts 17, where the followers of Jesus were accused of “turning the world upside down.” In the first century, the church was a disruptive force in society. Paul and his companions, (including Luke, who recorded the events) ushered in a new normal: the presence of the Kingdom of God on earth. In it, positions of power were flipped, extravagant generosity met the needs of the neglected, gender roles were being rewritten. That’s exactly what Christians today are called to, and it is the desire of my church to be that same force in our community: turning it UPSIDEDOWN with the good news of Jesus Christ.

This “upside down” accusation happened while Paul and his colleagues were in Macedonia, which was then a province in Greece. (You need to remember that bit: Macedonia.) For reasons the Bible doesn’t clearly explain, Paul’s attempts to enter various other places were thwarted. Then, Luke writes, “That night Paul had a dream: A Macedonian stood on the far shore and called across the sea, ‘Come over to Macedonia and help us!’ The dream gave Paul his map. We went to work at once getting things ready to cross over to Macedonia. All the pieces had come together. We knew now for sure that God had called us to preach the good news to the Europeans.” (from Acts 16)

The story has become known as Paul’s “Macedonian Call,” and is referred to in an old hymn I grew up with called Send the Light.

That’s the back story. Now for mine.

For a long time, I’ve asked God how the things I’m doing with my life could possibly fit into my church’s UPSIDEDOWN dream. I see others doing “real” ministry, like going on mission trips, teaching, working with kids, serving the poor. Really making a difference. Sending the light. Meanwhile, I mostly stay home, hammering away on my laptop. Although I strive to write books and columns that will draw readers closer to their Creator, my stories seem disconnected from my church’s mission. I feel isolated, the words at times superficial. “Lord, I’d love it if you could grant me some small picture of what my part of this puzzle looks like,” I prayed. “How and where do I fit?”

Then I received an email from my publisher informing me that my first novel is going to be translated into a foreign language. I’d always wondered if this might happen one day. Which language would it be? What would they title it? What might the cover look like? Would it be French or Spanish? Possibly Dutch or German?

No. It’s none of those. It’s being translated into a language I didn’t even know existed, in a country I didn’t know still existed.

It’s called the Republic of Macedonia. Macedonians will be reading a story in their own language (Macedonian), set in Manitoba, dreamed up by a somewhat bewildered woman in little ol’ Portage la Prairie, who identifies with a motley group of Jesus-followers longing to turn the world upside down like Paul did. In Macedonia.

And I kind of lost it. Because you can’t make this stuff up.

Cinderella Finally Goes to the Ball

Friends have been asking if I’m going to Mississauga. They saw the local newspaper article about my work being in the running for the 2018 Word Awards to be presented there on June 15.

What they may not know is what happened a year ago, when my first novel, The Silver Suitcase, was in the running. To go or not to go, that was the question. It was exciting to entertain the idea of donning my first-ever evening gown and hobnobbing with authors and publishers, maybe even receiving an award. But how silly is it to buy a plane ticket for Toronto for just one evening, when you don’t know whether you’ve won? My mind torn, I could see four possibilities:

1.     I would not go, and I would not win. (In which case, I’d be glad I didn’t go.)

2.     I would not go, and I would win. (In which case, I’d be bummed I didn’t go.)

3.     I would go and not win. (In which case, I’d be bummed I went.)

4.     I would go and win. (But I’d be there without any of my loved ones to share the big moment, lonely, and a bit bummed.)

It became obvious that only one of these scenarios resulted in my not being bummed: the first one. So I stayed home and weeded my garden. Deep down, I think I secretly hoped my fairy godmother would appear at the last minute, transform me into a princess, and sweep me off to the gala in a magical coach.

She did not materialize.

By the time I learned my book had indeed won the historical fiction prize, the gala-goers were home in their jammies and I was showering off garden dirt, mosquito repellent, and Cinderella dreams. The win seemed as fictionalized as my book until weeks later when a package arrived in the mail containing a certificate, a check, and a heavy glass award. (No, it’s not slipper-shaped.)

That’s when I made a decision. By then, I knew I’d have two books eligible for this year’s contest. I would enter them both, and if either book made the short-list of finalists, I’d attend the gala no matter what.

In January, I entered Maggie’s War and Bleak Landing, along with a short play in the Scripts category, and two of last fall’s newspaper columns in the Column Series category.

On May 9, The Word Guild released its short-list. My column made it, along with two other contenders. In the Historical Fiction category, only two books made the final round. I wrote both of them.

What can I say, it’s a small pool? I’ll never know how many other books competed, since each entry must score 80% or higher to make the short-list. But now my two books are competing against each other. Like any parent, I hope they’ll be good little children, that the winner will behave graciously, and the runner-up won’t pout.

So yes, I am going to Mississauga! But that’s not the best part. My precious daughter, whom I see only a couple of times a year, is flying there from Calgary to attend the gala with me. It’s the best-case scenario of all! Even if they tell me it was all a gigantic mistake and the only award for me is in the Ugly Stepsister category, I will still be anything but bummed.

Who needs a fairy godmother? I've got a very real GOD, a loving Father, who makes all things possible!