01.26.09
Meet Nancy Rue
I’m very excited for our guest on the blog this week. Nancy Rue is the author of over 100 books (many Christian fiction). She writes for both young girls (tweens) and adults. Her “Healing Waters,” Healing Stones” and “Healing Sands” books deal with overcoming life’s wounds, and they are must-read material. Her work is fantastic, but I’ve got to tell you, she is a really fantastic person. She is generous with her gifts, and kind to everyone. She loves to encourage people in their dreams, and to support them and give them opportunity and advice (in an age when many withhold these things). I met her at a writer’s conference where she was teaching plot last spring. I was such a rookie, and for most of the conference didn’t even feel like I should be there. But Nancy set me at ease and gave me confidence in the good things I did bring up. Her passion for story was infectious, and her class was fun and inspirational and hysterical and moving. I’d love to share her story, so here it is:
______
I was 28 and a new mother when the urge to write seriously for publication overcame me – and ‘overcame’ is definitely the right word. It simply would not leave me alone, and I knew I had to do something about it. So, I took a leave of absence from teaching and vowed to give it my all, and if I wasn’t published in a year, I would know that wasn’t what I was supposed to do. I don’t recommend giving God that sort of ultimatum, but it did pan out in my case! I read, studied, and practiced, every day, like it was a real job (while making sure my toddler didn’t swallow too many of the buttons in the can of them I gave her to keep her occupied). Seven months later I sold a short story to a Methodist youth magazine, made $80, enough to have my electric typewriter repaired, and was on my way. I went to Mt. Hermon Christian Writer’s Conference and met amazing, helpful people who got me pointed in the right direction. As I look back now, I know it was all a God-thing.
My niche has found me. I write largely for girls ages 8-12, fiction and non-fiction, though I also write novels for women. I think my mission, rather than an age group, really defines my specialty. I write so that women of any age can find their true selves through God.
Any advice or philosophy of life/art for the readers: Two things. One, remember what Anton Chekov, the great Russian modern playwright said: “If you want to work on your art, work on your life.” According to Washington Irving, that requires much solitude and time for mind-play. I would add to that prayer and meditation. If your life isn’t true, your writing won’t be either. At least, that has been my experience. Two, I try to follow what St. Francis of Asissi is credited with saying: “Preach the Gospel always. Use words if necessary.” Those two things guide my journey as a writer and a Christian. When I stray from that, it all goes down the toilet.
You can learn more about my art, my life, my faith at www.nancyrue.com, which will lead you to my two blogs, and at www.FaithGirlz.com. I would love to have you visit!
_______
Have you thought about whether your life is true? It makes me want to hunt down that which is false. In attempting to write my story from the conference last year, I found myself writing on the surface, fixing the problems easily and not wanting to delve into character issues. I wanted it to be easy for the characters, because, frankly, I want it to be easy for me. I don’t want trouble in life, so creating it for my characters was tough. That was a great revelation to me. It drives how I look at life, and motivates me to act in ways I’m not always proud of. Thank you, Nancy, for being able to face your own truth, so you can bring it alive in us. I really appreciate it. And please check out her books. You will soon be a fan.
Meet James Bennett
If you’ve ever seen a James Bennett illustration, you will recognize his work with one glance. His talent truly is humor and realism combined, and his work is stunning — having so many layers to unravel. To me, his illustrations really are stories that are as entertaining as any movie. Here’s his story:
I was the kid in 1st grade that could draw almost anything,and the nuns would recruit (force) me to do the drawings of saints around the school. By the time I started painting hockey scenes from the sports page at 13, I had always just assumed that I’d be an artist for my entire life.
But I found myself 3 years out of high school,working multiple jobs to pay the rent, and my only artistic success was getting the occasional offer to paint someone’s dog for $20. So I swallowed my pride, moved back with my parents and became a “mature” art student at a local community college. Fully motivated to never return to the factory jobs, I aced my classes for 2 years and won a scholarship to The School of Visual Arts in NYC. There, being taught by professional illustrators, I somehow put together a small (6 pieces) portfolio and began to get work right out of school.
I had always loved the artists who could make me laugh, like Mort Drucker and Jack Davis. Yet I aspired to be a great painter, like Maxfield Parrish and Frank Frazetta. So my style, which was so important to establish as a young illustrator, became a blend of them all. Being able to do funny images and incorporate them into realistic environments became an absolutely enjoyable profession, which has lasted almost 25 years.
One of the most important things that I constantly remind myself is to invest in yourself. That is, no matter what it is that you do, you need to not only believe and trust in your instincts, but be willing to invest the time and the money to make things happen. For myself, that means investing the effort to do large scale work for prints or promotional work, buying the scanners and printers and cameras, and most importantly, investing the time in my schedule to write, or think creatively, even when no real deadline exists. It’s that type of investing in your career that will always, eventually, pay you back.
_____
I love the idea of investing in your talents. I think sometimes people think, “You’ve got it or you don’t.” But I agree that raw talent is refined with investment. Thank you for reminding me to invest. I appreciate that so much. You can check out James’ portfolio at www.richardsolomon.com/bennett.html. It’s worth the trip by to visit, and I can already hear the oohs and aahs as you scroll through his magnificent work. Thank you, James.
minty fresh memory
I hadn’t had a mint Tic-Tac in years. I’m not really a mint person (I’m actually addicted to gum, which is weird). But one day last summer, my husband and I decided to pick up a little plastic box of the nostalgic mints. They sat in the drawer for a few weeks, seemingly unimportant, sharing the drawer with extra keys and rubber bands, and a few expired coupons. There they stayed, dormant, unnoticed.
One day, who knows why, I opened the drawer, saw them, and thought, “what the heck.” Deep into a conversation with my husband, I hardly noticed popping the white, smooth oval into my mouth. Until — it hit me. The sensation of the cool mint pressed into my tongue, and suddenly I was no longer in the dining room. I was in an old VW van in small town Wyoming, with my Papaw driving down the two-lane road. I could see his icy white hair, feel the caramel-colored upholstery of the old van, ride with the jerking of that long stick shift. I was a child again.
I grabbed Darryl’s arm, and he looked at me, confused and a bit stunned. What had just happened? What had happened was a taste of my former life. My grandfather was a Baptist preacher, and because he had to talk to so many people, he constantly carried mint Tic-Tacs. The only time I ever had them was when I was with him. And so the sensation of that mint on my tongue enveloped me with the presence of my wonderful grandfather.
He was a great man in everyone’s opinion. A wonderful speaker, kind man, funny and giving. I adored his visits, when he would take us for long walks to old-fashioned soda fountains and baseball games in the park. He would sing us nonsensical stories and make up words like heck-ty-copter and caughphy (coffee). And when he came up the stairs in the morning, he would moan like a spooky ghost, and we would giggle with glee. He would hold my hand on walks in the woods, and we would sing about five little ducks and wonderful West Virginia. And I loved every minute of it.
The beauty of life is that one aroma, a single taste, the color of the sky at a certain time of day, all of these things can connect you to the people you love. No one is really ever gone. No memory ever too far away. On sad days, lonely days, or days when I just don’t feel like anyone sees who I am, all I have to do is taste the truth I know — that life is made up of moments, memories and meaning. Life is people who matter — who stop to show you love, agree with who you are, and bring meaning to the smallest of things.
I long to see my Papaw again, and I look forward to sharing a mint or two with him in heaven. Until then, I can find him any time I need him in that drawer. I guess there was more stored in there than I realized.
I hope you can remember places, fragrances, music, food — things that are yours. I’d love to hear about them.
