The Test for Every Writer

As a writer, I am constantly in one of these three states:

1) Insatiable: I have to write. I need to write. There is this longing that every time I sit in front of a computer or I have a pen in my hand, that I must put something creative. One word: Passion.

2) Determined: There's no burning desire or anything, but because I've committed myself to finish that wretched novel, no matter how much it drips of cliche, I'm going to finish it.  At least to be able to tell myself that I did.  There may be varying levels of joy in the process, but the determination is really what pushes me along.

3) Exhausted: There are too many other things to do.  I don't know why I'm wasting my time on this thing.  I know I should do it, I know that I need to work on my writing, but somehow I can't muster up anything (drive, courage, will-power) to get anything out.  I am so discouraged on multiple levels that I often wonder where that insatiable desire went.

Isn't that how it is with anything you love?  Whether it be a person (your husband, your sister, your best friend), any other hobbies or even your work.  Life fluctuates, as does your resolve and your emotions.  Understandable.

The trick is in the "exhausted" stage, one that I often refer to as "burn out", somehow one must find the hidden, often inexplicable energy to continue on.  Whether in writing or in marriage, it's all the same.  It is in those times, when you really don't want to have anything to do with it, that you really prove your love.  As they say, its not real unless its been tested and still stands. 

First Day of School

There was always something magical about the first day.  Even though it would get warm by the afternoon, fall was creeping into the morning.  It wasn't so humid; there was a crispness to the air.  It was cool enough to put on a sweater.

I would wake up at 6:30 a.m., sometimes before my alarm, a mixture of excitement and anxiety.  Even though I hadn't been awake before 9:00 a.m. for the past three months, I didn't feel tired. I would pull myself to the bathroom.  It was necessary to turn on the yellow lights in the dimness; the sun wasn't quite full strength yet.  The morning would feel foreign but familiar, like visiting a place you hadn't been to since you were young. 

After dressing and rechecking my neatly organized backpack with new pencils, new binders, and neatly printed tab dividers, I would walk downstairs with my new sneakers in my hand, put them near the door, and go to the kitchen.  My mom would be cooking breakfast, something hearty like eggs and sausage or pancakes with chocolate chips in them.  I would get first dibs because my sisters were never morning people.

When everyone was ready, my mom would force us to take a first day of school picture in front of the house.  We would stand in formation, ordering our German Shepherd to sit at our feet so he could be in the picture too, and force an enthusiastic smile.  After two or three takes (Mom always had to make sure she got a good one), we would walk up the street to the bus stop and wait for the yellow vehicle that had its own set of social rules.

By the end of the year, the routine would get old and tired.  I would hit my snooze button, miss breakfast, and wear old clothes.  But every year, that first Tuesday after Labor Day, it would all start again and somehow still exude the feeling of a fresh new beginning. 

525,949 Minutes of Marriage

Photograph by Kenneth J. Wong Photography

A year ago today, my husband, Jon, and I got married.  I could say many cliche things about getting through the first year of marriage, but I thought I would cut to the nitty gritty. 

Jon summed it best in a letter he wrote to me and left on my desk one day: "I didn't realize how difficult it was going to be to love you." 

Some people might take offense to that, but I know I'm not an easy person to love.  I test people's patience, I'm bossy, I'm nosy, and I am Type A to the max.  What I loved about his statement was what was understood: there was no question that he would figure out how he would love me.  I knew I had confidence in his love and his commitment.  He loved me, no matter how difficult it would get. 

I'm slowly learning to take every minute of marriage one at a time and appreciate that I have a husband who will love me no matter what.  That sort of love is only learned from one source: Our Heavenly Father.  

So, my dear husband, happy anniversary.  I love you, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, no matter what.

Book Trailers

What do you think?  Video advertisements for books? 

I first saw a book trailer for Stephen Lawhead's book The Skin Map.  Check it out here.  I was confused for a moment because I thought they were making it into a cheesy movie.  Then I realized it was a trailer for the book.  And my first thought at that moment was: "Boy, I'm glad I've read the book already." 

There are lots of trailers for books out now.  Book Trailers for Readers and Book Trailers.Net are website that have arisen to showcase these new forms of advertisement.

Trailers have immense power for only being around 60 seconds.  They have the power to create a first impression and give you a mental picture for characters.  They can create a mood.  As with any art form, trailers are an interpretation of a book put into movie format.  Someone else's interpretation.

But I see the value of book trailers in this increasingly visual society.  But are trailers accepting the diminishing imagination of our society for the hope of increased sales?  Part of me wants to encourage publishers to market books how they normally are: by word of mouth.  Someone reads a book and says, "Whoa! This was good!" and passes it on.  However, I know that in the book industry, one that is struggling to stay relevant with the digital times, there exists a pressure to bring in the cash and advertising is one of the avenues.  Trailers may just encourage more people to read. 

Guest Blog Post

I was honored to have the opportunity to write a guest blog post on my buddy Tom's blog for his Wandering Wednesday post.  The prompt consisted of writing about a time in which you were literally or figuratively/spiritually wandering in your life.

Check out the post at http://thomasmarkzuniga.com/2012/07/in-his-hands-a-wandering-wednesday-by-cheryl-chen/

This blog post was very intimate for me. Even though I've told the story quite a few times to girls struggling with self-worth or dating, putting it in written form rather than oral form was a heartfelt experience for me.  The biggest reason was because I found myself making God a vital character to the story, whereas when I told the story orally, He was mainly a player but not a central element.  God's voice came to me so easily; I almost heard the gentle tone as I typed out the words.

I hope that you are touched by the story.  I know that God gave it to me in order to show His love for us and to remind us to trust Him with our insecurities.

So that was......suspenseful

sus`pense [suh-spens]
noun.
a state or condition of mental uncertainty or excitement, as in awaiting a decision or outcome, usually accompanied by a degree of apprehension or anxiety.

Hollywood is very good at the dictionary definition of suspense.  They figure all they have to do is withhold information, and by definition, they have created suspense for their audience.

But suspense is much more complicated than that.  In fact, I feel like good suspense is difficult, even though it seems like building suspense in a novel or a movie should be one of the simpler things to accomplish.

Let's take the movie Snow White and the Huntsman.  (Note, when I go to the movies, I tend to see the film in the eyes of a critic.  So, if you liked this movie, please take no offense.)  While the movie was entertaining, it failed to be suspenseful for me.  Why?


No character development.  In order for us as the audience to care about the "awaiting decision or outcome", we must care about who is going to be the recipients of such an outcome.

When Kirsten Steward is running around in the Dark Forest, we have a hard time conjuring up deep concern for her.  Yes, her mother died, her father was murdered, and she was locked in a castle for half of her life.  But that doesn't create genuine sympathy for the character.  What does?  Back story.  Understanding who she is and what drives her.  If we understand her goals, then we have something to root for.

Why should I worry about the nameless Huntsman when, not only does he not have a name, but we also don't understand why he cares about the Princess or why he's decided to ultimately fight for her in the first place.  After she takes a bite of the poison apple, he stands there emotionally yelling at the dwarfs in his grief, and the audience has nothing to understand why he cares for her.  Last emotion he expressed about her was that she was a liability to him.  Even though he spills out his heart to her before he kisses her (a little late, thank you very much), the information is not there early enough (or shown rather than told) to earn anything.

William, the duke's son, is obviously passionate enough about Snow White to disobey his father, ally with the evil queen's brother, and risk his life to kiss her after he presumes her dead.  But what do we know about their relationship?  Nothing.  All we know is that they grew up together and he playfully stole an apple from her once as a child.

Because we do not care for the characters, do we care if they live or die?  Maybe a little.  They are people, and most people don't like seeing people die.  But in the world of theatrics, a fictional death doesn't mean anything, really.  As a storyteller, whether on screen or written, one must develop character first before the suspense can mean anything.

Halfway Point

Holy guacamole!  It is June.  We're halfway through 2012 already.  How are those New Year's Resolutions going?  You're probably like, "Oh come on, Cheryl.  Those only apply to January.  Duh!"  Haha.

Time is an odd animal.  It ticks away, second by second, at the same pace every single day.  It is steady, a constant.  Patterned and split into predetermined units because of its consistency.  It never changes.  Yet at the same time time zooms by.  The day is gone in a flash.  Our kids, friends, siblings, parents are moving on to the next stage in their lives, doing things that you thought were only ever going to be in the future.  Things to come become things that are and we're wondering how time moved so fast.

Life is like a ladder.  You start off on the bottom rung and can't see anything but what's in front of you.  The older you get, the more rungs on the ladder you climb and the more you're able to see.  You look down and are able to understand the bigger picture.

As you can tell from my blog, I like to look at life and apply to writing (or vice versa).  I believe the two need to be intimately connected for writers.

As the writer, it is important to know from which rung you write your story.  It's more than just POV.  Your narrator can have a very narrow outlook, but you need to understand more and know from where your knowledge comes from.

Its never too late in life or in writing to stop, take a step back, and try to see the bigger picture.  We're all on a journey, I hope, to the same place.  The roads we choose to take may differ, but ultimately, we're all a part of a bigger plan for a greater good.

An Ode to Friendship

I have a story to share if I may.  It is about my pen pal, Liz.  Okay, so we don't really "pen" our letters to each other anymore, but when we signed up to be randomly matched up with another, I don't think either of us anticipated how our relationship would change our lives.  We were close to thirteen and loved to talk about boys.  It was exciting to write this person you didn't know, to get pictures of them, and to hear stories from the other side of the country.

We grew close and promised each other to be bridesmaids in each other's weddings, but what did we know?  I think even then, as a young teenager, I was doubtful that we would keep our promise.  I knew from observation and from being told before that you don't always keep your friendships into adulthood.  I didn't know why at the time--it didn't seem that hard--but I understood that it didn't happen for whatever reason.

But then we got into our high school years.  We found that a truly unbiased observer, one who knew none of the parties involved, was more valuable than we had realized.  We began to depend on each other as a sounding board, as a venting partner, as a confidant.

High school turned into college and the bonds were even stronger.  And then my family planned a trip to the East Coast.

"I'm way too close to you not to see you," I remember telling her in an email. "I HAVE to see you."

2009

So we arranged for me to leave my family for one day of our trip to take the train to visit her.  I was so nervous on the train ride there as I texted her, "On my way!"  There was so much at stake with our first meeting.  She could be nothing like the girl I'd talked to on the phone.  It was almost like a blind date, but the risk was greater.  If we didn't click in person, would it dissolve the entire relationship we had taken years  and postage to build?

She met me at the train station.  Her car pulled up to the curb, and I was surprised to find that I recognized her as soon as she approached.  I climbed into the front seat of her car, we hugged, and then she pulled out of the parking lot.  We started chatting, and all of the sudden, it was like we'd be friends forever...because, well, we had.

2010

After that day, I was ruined.  Talking in person was so much more fun, so much more rewarding than talking on the phone or emailing.  I was hooked.  We didn't do much that first day we "met".  We just talked...all day, like girls do.

A few months later, I told her, "I have to see you again."  So she flew out that summer and spent a week at my house.  Spending a longer amount of time together was even better.  Those little things you learn from watching someone in the moment...I began to notice them.  It was like now I could see the whole Liz.  Before, I only got to see bits and pieces.  Now, the picture was being filled in.  I learned things that most girlfriends know about each other: likes and dislikes, oft used phrases, mannerisms, etc.

And then my then-boyfriend proposed and I was engaged.  There was no question at this point.  She was being in my wedding.

With the emphasis on romantic relationships in our society, we often forget that friendships can be as exciting and as important as a marriage.  The bond you create with your "BFF" is unique and special.  It is to be protected.  They say most people don't have many truly good friends in a lifetime.  Strong friendships are rare and should be cherished.  I guess that is why I'm writing this post.  It is not only a dedication to one of the most unique friendships in my life, but also as a reminder that all friendships, whether with someone across the country or across the town, should be nurtured and protected.

And I am happy to announce that only 8 months after I was married, Liz was also married.  I flew out for her wedding, got to meet her husband-to-be, and participate in such a sacred life event.

2012                                                                                                    2011

This journey has been most special to me, and I might sound sappy writing this entire post.  However, I feel like it should be recorded and shared.  I am thankful to God for His Providence for this sister in Christ has helped me become the person that I am.