Become One of my Fifty

It takes a tribe of ten thousand fans to make a viable career in writing.

As I approach the publishing industry with a heart for writing stories and dreams of getting them to readers, ten thousand sounds like an awfully big number.  In fact, it sounded impossible the first time I heard it, and I took my fear of it to God.  "Is this really what You want me to do?  How can I reach ten thousand people?"

I'm coming to learn that I'm not going to reach anyone, that's God's job, but back in March when He and I had this talk, He gave me a new number.  "What about fifty?"

Will you be one of my first fifty?

I release a quarterly newsletter called The Breakfast Table in which I update my first fifty fans on my writing career: my degree, my journey into the realms of Publishing, and the ways in which I'm continuing to grow as a writer by God's grace.  There are also little bonuses: as one of my fifty, you get to be among the first to hear about things like website launches and book releases when the time comes, and some issues contain shorter pieces I've written of various genres.  As one of my fifty, you get sneak peeks on both sides of a new writer's life.

I can't do this without you.  I can't live this dream of writing if I have no one to read it.  If you're willing to help me out, if you want to see what the life of a writer is like, send an email to kaycee_pancake@yahoo.com.  Put "One of my Fifty" in the subject line  and let me know that you want in on the adventure.

I promise, it'll be a wild ride!

Literary Criticism: A Rant from Within the Confines of Academia

I wanted to share with you the fruit of my higher education, to impart upon you some of the crucial knowledge that my university is so generously lavishing upon me in order to make me a better informed, educated, well-rounded individual.  Because education is an investment, after all, and you can't assign a dollar amount to your mind!  What magic, secret knowledge from within the ivory walls of academia am I going to enlighten you to today?

Literary Criticism.

Basically, you take a box--preferably an outdated one that was once created by some "great thinker" or another whose ideas have since been completely and utterly debunked by reality, such as Freud's psychoanalysis or Marxism for example.  But it doesn't necessarily have to be an outdated one; a currently over-thought perspective will serve just as well for this box: Feminism perhaps, or Queer Studies (that's literally the term, if you laughed you are probably an uneducated barbarian without the intellectual capability to discuss this blog post any further).

This box defines your identity as a reader: it's Who You Are.  Because, you know, college kids are learning who they are, and the more we can influence that developing identity with our mushy ideology, the more effectively we can ruin them for proper functioning in the Real World.

Now then, does everyone have their box?  Okay, now here's this story.  It doesn't matter when it was written or by whom or about what.  Maybe it was written before Marx was born, maybe decades after Psychology figured out that Freud just needed a cold shower, maybe it was written by a man about men and has absolutely nothing to do with women (because, you know, if it isn't about women, then clearly the guy was a chauvinist pig).  Now take this story:

Wad it up and shove it into your box, stamp it down if you have to, light the edges on fire if necessary, and make it fit in there.

Viola!  Literary Criticism!

Now, of course we're going to teach you how to do it, so here's an assignment to go find some.  But it has to be within the last twenty years so it's new and edgy, otherwise it isn't relevant to the discourse anymore.  Because, you know, there's so much new to say about Hawthorne from the past twenty years that nobody could've possibly thought of earlier, even though the guy lived and died in the 1800's.  And it has to be published by a University press, because you can't trust anything that's written outside of academia, it might be tainted by the Real World, and we can't have any opinions from the Real World, now can we?

To help you find an acceptable article, I've given you this ambiguous list of publication criteria with no explanation whatsoever as to what any of these terms mean, OR that list of ten specific journals you can pick from, but none of them will actually have any articles on the piece I wanted you to look for.

Oh, you've done the assignment and met every single criteria except the time of publication?  Weird, most of your classmates did the same thing.

So all of you have a grade of "Incomplete."  Back to the drawing board, suckers!

Meanwhile, here's this week's reading list.  Not that we'll actually have time to discuss half of it or anything, but you'd better read it all twice anyway, just so you're "prepared for class."

People, I cannot tell you how ready I am to graduate and get out of here.

~  *  ~

I should inform you however that I am loving my Thesis workshop!  I'm writing about Tolkien as a writer: the research is fantastic, the writing is a blast, and I don't feel guilty or stupid after investing six or more hours at a time on it.  Tolkien is teaching me infinitely more about writing and my own identity than any of these silly literature classes ever will.

As for that Parent Teacher Communications class... Yeah, we won't talk about that one.

A Funny Story

The sole purpose of this blog post is to make you laugh.  And so I can laugh a little bit longer about this.  You're welcome.  :)

So... This happened this weekend.

How did this happen?  I set a stack of workshop essays on my bookcase.  (The fact that my roommate and I were responsible for the assembly of this bookcase may or may not have been a contributing factor to its literal downfall.)

So after I put the workshop essays on it, we sat down on the futon to eat dinner and enjoy some Once Upon a Time.

Then we see it shift out of the corner of our eyes.

And the next thing we know, the cat is in the hallway (praise Jesus Gracie's been making her run to keep her in shape!) and the bookcase is all over the living room.

My parents are visiting in a couple of weeks, and I am so blessed that my dad has agreed to assemble my next bookcase for me!

Until then, I guess this will have to do:

Have a great week everybody, and look out for falling bookcases!

Advisement of Heartbreak

Academia dealt a pretty big blow to... well, everything really, over Easter weekend.

I was nearing graduation, I was making life plans around when I was going to move back home and have some time freed up for pursuing my writing career.  Seven classes.  So close!

Before I left for Nebraska to spend Easter with my family (including having a sit-down, number-crunching, life-planning session with my dad), I had an appointment with an academic adviser.  I was just going in to touch base, see if it mattered which classes I took first, if any of them were only offered one semester, make sure I wasn't missing anything.

I was missing something.  I was missing a big something.

Seven somethings.

They're called "electives."

"But I'm done with my Gen Eds," I said.  "I should just be down to English classes now, right?"

"Well, you have your Gen Eds, and then you have your English classes, but then there are all these extra credits that are just, you know, 'electives.'"

It was like she dropped a rock in my gut, and I wanted to run out of her office crying right then and there, two minutes after sitting down.

"Well, but I'm still a senior, right?" I asked, wanting to salvage a little bit of academic dignity.  Academic dignity is rare and incredibly valuable as a nontraditional student.

"Well, I think they listed you as a fourth year student, but we like to say that seniors are between x credits and y credits, and you are at z credits.  So you aren't really a junior, but you're just barely on the cusp of being a senior, so you're just kind of, well, 'there.'"

Which is exactly how I've felt for my entire college career in the eyes of the University, but it still stung hearing someone say it out loud, someone who knows nothing about me, someone who is annoyed with me for making her come into the office at 8 AM and just wants me out.

So then she started doing that thing advisers are trained to do where she helps me decide what electives I want to take, like you can decide that in one random sitting.  "You could study museum curating and work in a museum, you could take some journalism classes... you know, I don't really know why, but you really look like a librarian!"  (I was wearing grunge pants and an Elsa t-shirt under a polka-dot jacket.)  And then came The Question: "What do you want to do with writing when you graduate?"

I'm not ashamed of my answer, but I know I'm judged for it fairly regularly.  "I just want to be a stay-at-home mom and write novels."

"Oh," she said, glancing down at my purity ring.  "So you have a husband and kids?"

I grinned a little, my you-have-no-idea grin.  "Not yet."

It's easy to be joyful around Easter time.  Easter is when we get to celebrate our salvation, how much God loves us, how powerful He is.  It's easy to get caught up in a "spiritual high" on Easter.  So that's what I did all weekend.  (Except for the half hour cry-fest on I-80, but anyway...)

But then I had to come back to Iowa City, and there was homework to do, and there was craziness at work (I work in daycare, it's practically made of craziness), and there was no writing time, and all I could think was "I can't do this for three more years."

It's felt like breaking up with a boyfriend--you come to love something so much, it becomes a huge part of your life, a part of your future, and when it turns out to not be what you thought, everything you thought you knew about the thing, about your future, about yourself, is suddenly flung into question.

It's felt like starting over, even though I know it isn't.  I've been here for almost four years now, and whether that lovely adviser admits it or not, I am a senior, and I still have no student debt to my name.

It's felt a lot like heartbreak.

All of this to which God asks: "Do you still trust Me?"

I'm still here, doing what He's sent me here to do.  He started this, so I have to trust Him to finish it.

Dad and I are still scheming, and we've got it down to two more years.  The electives allow me to go for a bonus minor in Educational Psychology, something that will allow me to study both my day-job profession and my target audience as a writer (young adults), and still have room for two fun classes, like Classical Mythology or something.  ("You need something easy, something you can show up for and pass without thinking about it," my dad said.  I scrolled down on the list of possibilities.  "Oooo!  I could take Latin!")

So this is me: still trucking along, still hanging out in Iowa City, still trying to balance Work and School and Writing.

Still trying to trust God's timing.

Become One of my Fifty

It takes a tribe of ten thousand fans to make a viable career as a writer.  Ten thousand people to anticipate, buy, and read my books.  I learned this at a writer's conference in Texas, and driving back to Iowa, God and I had a long chat about it.  "You've called me to write, God, so I have to write.  I have to do this.  But God, ten thousand fans?!"

Like the number 10,000 daunts the Creator of the Universe.

But God knew that I was overwhelmed, so He gave me a new number.  What about 50?

Would you like a front-row seat to the life of an emerging writer?  Would you like to join me on my journey toward publication, and more importantly toward the task God has laid before me?  Would you consider coming alongside me?

Will you consider being one of my fifty?

I have a quarterly newsletter to let you in on where I am in my writing pursuits.  You can see what I'm up to, what I'm reading, what I'm writing, what progress I'm making.  You can be the first to hear about the details of my website and blog launches, you can receive shorter pieces I have written, and later on you can be the first to hear about release dates.

Send me an email to kaycee_pancake@yahoo.com, and I will add you to my list!

I have just sent out my first issue of my newsletter, but it isn't too late!  If you send me an email within the next week, I'll be sending out one more round of this newsletter next weekend.  Please join me, and I promise you an adventure!

Seattle: Hashtag, First World Problems

I just returned from a week long missions trip to Seattle, Washington in which we worked with the homeless community.  We kept finding ourselves shaking our heads together and saying to each other: "Hashtag, first world problems."  Obviously, we were still in the first world and serving people who were also technically in the first world, but the sentiment applied.

Statistically speaking, the percentages of people in Seattle who not only attend church but even affiliate with a faith at all nearly constitutes an unreached people group.  Seattle doesn't even pretend to be Christian.  Politically speaking, Seattle is, erm... Well, let's put it this way: I'm a fairly moderate conservative, and I felt exotic in Seattle's political ecosystem.  They have a socialist political party--literally, you can register democrat, republican, or socialist if you want.  They have legalized marijuana.  Their minimum wage is $15 an hour.  And they have nude espresso bars.  Literally.  One of our girls walked up to an espresso bar to order a coffee to find the barista wearing nothing but a thong and two little stars.  We were just glad it was one of our girls who made this discovery.

Seattle is also the best place in the country to be homeless.  We heard this both from the organizations as well as the homeless people themselves.  People literally travel to Seattle from all over the country to be homeless.  We did an urban plunge on Monday in which we had a checklist of things to find ("If a homeless person were in this situation, what resources would be available to them?" "Where would a homeless person go to find this?" etc) and had nothing but our IDs on us.  My group ate lunch in a ministry called Bread of Life, and we had crab legs.  For free.

Over lunch, my group also met B, a young woman my age to whom I'd served breakfast that morning at Union Gospel Mission.  We ultimately adopted her, and she helped us with many things on our list, and then tagged along wanting to know the answers to a few other things on the list.  When all of our groups reunited at the end of the day, a few people good naturedly teased us for cheating (sure, maybe it was cheating a little bit), but becoming friends with B was a highlight of my week.

We were able to say hi to B while we were volunteering at Union Gospel again the next day, but Monday was really the only time we had with her to learn her story and love on her as much as possible.  When we left her on the sidewalk in front of the mission to pile into our van at the end of the day, I couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't been enough.  There should have been more I could do, something else I could have said, something more I could have done for her, spiritually or otherwise.

But we loaded into our van to go feast on walking tacos, take some rooftop pictures of the Space Needle (and then run back inside because it was getting cold), and then return to our host families for desperately needed showers and a soft bed.  I hadn't brushed my hair since before church Sunday morning, we'd helped with Search and Rescue (bringing food and blankets out to the homeless in the streets) in the rain on Sunday night and only gotten a few hours of sleep on the floor in a shelter that night before our urban plunge.  I wanted to put on clean socks and wash and brush my hair.  I had college homework to do.  Hashtag: first world problems.  B sleeps among the laundry in her boyfriend's car that doesn't run well enough to get far from the curb where it's parked, and by some homeless standards, that's pretty lucky.

I've always assumed that mission trips teach you to trust God to get you there.  Mission trips are expensive, and they take time.  Time and money are sometimes tough to spare.  When it came to pass that I had both to go on this trip, I was so excited that God had come through, and now I would get to do Kingdom Work like I've never been able to before.  But on Monday, I realized that getting there isn't even half of the trust mission trips require.  I also had to trust God to give me the words to say.  I also had to trust God to give me the strength to be surrounded by so many people that I didn't know All. Week. Long.  (At our host family's home, I roomed in the basement with one of my CCF friends, and we loved coming home to our "introvert cave" every night!)

I also had to trust God to love B even more than I have come to.

B's story doesn't shock God like it did me, because God has always known B's story, and God is powerful enough to do infinitely more in B's life than I can.  I did the very best I could in a day: I loved on B, and I think I made it clear that I loved her because God loves me.  It doesn't feel like enough, but for me it has to be, because anything else B needs in her life is in God's hands now.

One of my Fifty: My Response to ReWrite

As most of you are aware, I just went on a super epic (and long anticipated) road trip to attend a writer's conference in Austin, Texas!  Early last Wednesday morning, I drove from Iowa City to Omaha to crash breakfast with my sister-in-law and my nephews, and then I grabbed my mom to join me down to Oklahoma City.  We spent the night there with my grandparents before heading down to Austin (through Dallas, at which point I was infinitely grateful Mom was able to tag along and willing to be my wheel-man!).  I was then plunged into two of possibly the most overwhelming days of my writing career to date.

There were a lot of people there.  And they were all strangers.  The only person in the room I "knew" was Ted Dekker, but obviously, he didn't know me.  I was there with business cards.  I was wearing slacks and makeup.  My hair wasn't in a daycare braid.  It was an exhilarating, terrifying, alternate universe.  And social anxieties aside, even the practical steps I learned about while I was there were a lot to think about with a full time job and school still on my tail (which is the reason for the delay in this blog post).

There may or may not have been a moment where I fled up to my hotel room and literally hid under the covers.

But while they were all strangers, they all understood me.  They didn't know it of course, but they did.  They all knew what it's like to have a story hijack your mind and demand to be told.  They all knew what it's like to write something that brings God and Writer together in impossibly intimate ways.  They all knew how to bring our own brokenness to the page and watch God mend our hearts in the words falling out of our pens.  They all knew what a calling to write feels like, what it is to write simply because "we have to."

Ted Dekker's daughter Rachelle described what it's like to come out of a writing session with two of the most intense pages ever written in the English language to find the real-life people in the living room whose response is: "Oh, cool."

"No no no no no, you don't understand!" all of us scream with her.

The people at ReWrite in Austin last weekend did understand.

And then I also got a lot of awesome, practical advice about self-marketing and author platforming and all that fun, author-yet-to-be-published stuff that made a whole lot more sense coming from actual people than it does when it comes from a Google search.

Then the reality of this dream of mine was summed up in one impossible number: You need ten thousand fans to make writing a viable career.

Ten thousand people.  I need ten thousand people to be interested in what I have to say.  I need ten thousand people who would choose my book as one of the statistical five the average person reads a year over the hundreds of thousands that come out.  I need ten thousand people to follow me, anticipate my publication dates, and be excited to read my stories.

How in God's universe do I get ten thousand people to like me?  How do I get ten thousand people to like me when I start loosing my mind in a room of two hundred strangers?

So after leaving Mom with her parents in Oklahoma City and taking on the last ten hours of the drive solo, God and I had a bit of a chat about this.  This is what I know I have to do, because we writers simply have to write.  And as was pointed out more than once during the conference, if you've been called to write and you aren't writing, then you're technically being disobedient.  Even if I wanted to walk away from this dream of writing books, I couldn't do it.  "So, God," I said, "I have to do this.  This is what You've called me to do, so I'm going to do this...

"But God, I can't do this!  Ten thousand fans?!?!"

Well, but reaching people is the whole point, right?

God knew I was overwhelmed.  He'd known we'd be having this conversation before I even thought signing up for this conference was possible.  So God gave me a new number.

What about fifty?

A big theme at ReWrite for me was that I'm not alone.  Even in that room full of strangers, they understood me and what writing is to me, and I did meet a few people who could be friends some day.  Moments when I feel understood as a writer are like gold for me.  But whether I have writers in my life who get this part of how my soul functions or not, I'm still not alone.  Even if I'm putting myself through school, I'm still not alone.  I feel alone a lot, in both aspects, but it just isn't true.

I'm not alone.

So here's to my family and friends.  Here's to my acquaintances both in Nebraska and Iowa.  Here's to the people of Cornerstone Baptist Church, Veritas, and Iowa City Church of Christ.  Here's to the new friends I made at ReWrite.  Here's to anybody who has ever offered me an encouraging smile and said: "I'd buy your books!"

Here's your chance.

I'm asking you to join me now in my journey as I start this brand new chapter of my reality as a writer.  I'm finally a senior now at the University of Iowa (woohoo!!!  I'm not an eternal junior, guys!!!), and book one in my series of five is a few typed-in edits away from completion.  It's time to start creating an author website, to start blogging regularly (and a little more formally... maybe... or, y'know, maybe not :P ), to finish this degree and have time to focus more directly on what God's been preparing me to do.  But y'all, I can't do this alone.  I need you to pray for me, cheer me on, and hold me accountable.

And then maybe someday, I'll need you to read my book!

I need you to be one of my fifty.

If you're willing to join me on this crazy little adventure (that just got significantly bigger, actually), please please please send me an email to kaycee_pancake@yahoo.com.  There will be a "quarterly newsletter" involved--but that sounds a lot stuffier than what it will really be.  It'll be more just an update on what I'm up to, what I'm working on, my progress on the publishing front, that kind of thing.  And "quarterly" translates to "when school lets me have five minutes to myself."

If that sounds boring, there will also be some short stories involved :)  (If you've ever read and enjoyed one of my Christmas stories, that addition is supposed to tempt you.)  If you prefer hard copies, then include your address in the email and I am 110% willing to snail-mail newsletters and stories to you!

*****I promise not to spam you or sell your info or anything like that of course, and if you decide you hate me later you can just let me know and I'll leave you alone.*****

Send me an email.  Become one of my fifty.

And then get ready, because God has something great in mind!  He always does.

~  *  ~

Email kaycee_pancake@yahoo.com to become one of my fifty!

Feel free to forward/share this link with anybody else who might be interested in a front-row seat to the writing career of a Young Adult Fantasy writer whose last name is Pancake!

Crazy

My campus ministry goes on a mission trip every year during Spring Break.  I've never been able to go, both because of work situations and financial ones.  I was thinking about going this year now that I'm in a much more flexible work situation, however decided not to in light of my trip to Austin, Texas (for which I'm leaving in a week and a few hours!).  This trip is also a pricey one, and I had to take several days off for it.

But then I received a text on my lunch break last week from one of my campus ministers: a financial supporter wanted to pay for me to go to Seattle.

After processing the initial shock and wondering if it was even possible, I went back into the building and stepped into my boss's office: "So, something crazy just happened..."

I had the go-ahead from my boss the very next morning.  That day on my lunch break, I was texting people my date of birth, middle name, etc. so they could add another plane ticket.

And just like that, God has sent me on my very first mission trip!

~  *  ~

It is February 17th, and in the back of my planner I already have a bullet-ed list started of all the things I'll talk about when I write my New Year's blog post at the end of 2015: a birth, two family surgeries, and two trips.  Maybe April will be calm?  Maybe?

But they're good things!  Both surgeries went perfectly, and both of those patients are much better off now.  Baby Corbin already has his Crazy Aunt Kaycee's heart.  And both of the trips are super exciting in and of themselves, and both come with incredible stories of God's provision.  They also both come with their challenges: both trips are going to take me about 5,000 leagues out of my comfort zone.  In different directions.  I'll be rubbing elbows with publishers in Austin and then doing an Urban Plunge in Seattle.  If you need me in April, I plan to be in an introvert coma... like, alone in my closet!

But I know they'll be worth it.  I know that God has so much to teach me in both places, and I'm praying that maybe He can use me in both places, too.

I think I'm quite ready for another adventure!

~  *  ~

God's been teaching me a lot this year about joy in the midst of trials.  He's been showing me that the joy part comes from the way that trials test us, stretch us, equip us with the perseverance that we need to walk the path on which He's placed our feet.  As we grow, we become Christians of stronger character, and (most important of all) we get to know Him better.

And the better we know Christ, the sweeter our meeting with Him will be the day that He comes back for us!  Many will tremble in terror on that day, but I know my Lord, and He knows me.  I'll be allowed to take His hand and walk into the presence of God on that day, and all these silly trials won't mean anything but the way in which I got to know my Savior so intimately.

A nontraditional education, health problems in the family, sorting through trunks of childhood baggage and trying to reconcile it all with my adult life, finding the courage to step into worlds I've never experienced before, just having the faith to take those steps in the first place--none of these things have taken God by surprise.  Each of them is a step closer to my Lord.  Maybe it feels like my life is out of control, maybe it all feels too crazy for me to handle, and maybe those feelings are dead on in some ways.

But God's driving this rig, and I guess this year I'm in for a wild ride!

Good Morning, 2015!

As I'm typing this out, it's only barely still morning.  By the time I post this, it will probably technically be afternoon.  But it's a holiday, which means sleeping in!  And I'm on winter break from school, which means not feeling guilty about it!  Therefore, whether it technically is or not, Good morning, 2015!  I welcomed you into my life last night with delicious food, sparkling cider, a wonderful roommate and her awesome friend!  (So please forgive me that I also welcomed you into my life while watching The Hobbit.  It was the first one, and I promise not to purchase the other two while in your presence or any time after!)

Speaking of which, 2014 marked the end of that dreadful abomination.  If you haven't seen The Battle of the Five Armies yet, don't.  And if you did, you can come over to my house and we can mourn the sacrilege together.  But it was fun to dress up with friends #OneLastTime at least!

There is so much more I could say on the matter, but I shall move on and spare you.

2014 also brought me eight credit hours closer to my degree!  Just in case anybody's joining me for the first time here (and also so I can remind myself one more time): I am working full time and putting myself through school part time as opposed to burying myself alive in student debt for a creative writing degree.  Taking a year to only get eight credits does not necessarily mean I'm an idiot.  I don't think.  I hope not.  Anyway...  18th Century British Lit during Spring semester wasn't bad, but I took that one solo.  I didn't pull a single all-nighter that semester.  It was beautiful.  Fall semester on the other hand... let's just say I explored the limits of my human capability.  I took two seminars (more intensive classes), and the only reason it wasn't as bad as the Semester from the Underworld was that I had a better attitude this time (not all progress is measured in credit hours!).  But I survived.  With an A and an A-.  Thank you very much.

 

 

I'm shooting for two more years.  Place your bets.  (All proceeds toward my tuition would be great!)

I switched jobs in 2014!  I still work in daycare with one-year-olds, but I'm a lead teacher in a Christian center now instead of an eternal assistant teacher watching a parade of lead teachers come and go over me in an accredited center with five thousand and seventy eight hoops to jump through.  Plus I get to pray with my kids and sing Jesus Loves Me now.  It's a pretty sweet deal!  I've been doing this for about three and a half years now, between the two centers I've had about 70 kids.  And I still can't see myself doing anything else!

Well, except for writing books :)  But 2015 might work with me on that one, as I will be attending ReWrite: The Ragged Edge in February!  It's a writing conference in Austin, Texas hosted by The Fedd Agency and one of my very favorite authors and writing role models, Ted Dekker (*tiny, shameless fan girl squeal*).  The goal is to have a complete manuscript and at least the beginnings of an Author Platform by then so that hopefully at least one of two things will happen: this conference teaches me how to navigate the perilous waters of the publishing industry and/or I happen to rub elbows with just the right person who falls in love with my work there on the spot!  Well, we all know which of the two is more likely, but even that will be worth it!

I'm also hoping that 2015 is kinder to my family than 2014 was.  We said goodbye to my Aunt Roxy in February and to my grandma in October, both on my dad's side.  If you are a prayer warrior, my grandpa especially could use it!  But while death is never an easy thing, I have hope that I will see both of them again, and on that side of Eternity Roxy doesn't have downs syndrome and Mema doesn't have dementia.  They are both much happier where they are now.

But along with an abundance of funerals, 2014 also brought an abundance of weddings!  I married off three friends this year, was a bridesmaid twice, and... 2015, can you PLEASE give this introvert a break from weddings?  Hooray for happy couples and stuff, but please, let's just talk Cupid into pulling back the reins a lil' bit.  That'd be great!  Seriously, 2015, I don't even want my own wedding right now!

That's right, still single.  And just fine with it at the moment.  Jadedness about the sensitivity of dudes my age aside, I'm not here in Iowa City to find my hubby (even though that was part of the plan when I came out here).  I'm here to love on daycare kids, become an author, and anything else that might pour out of a slowly growing faith in Christ.  Sometimes I can only see enough path in front of my feet for the next step, but an entire journey is ultimately made out of single steps, so that has to be enough.  I'll keep loving my kids.  I'll keep writing.  I'll do the grunt work required for establishing a writing career, like doing my best in school and preparing for the publishing world.  And with every child that learns to say my name, I'll be closer to the other side of this chapter of my story.

So, good afternoon, 2015!  Here's to eight more credit hours, here's to The Tales of Terralus and my trip to Texas, here's to friends new and not-as-new ones, and here's to another leg of this journey God has me on.  Hold on tight, 'cuz I'm on a wild ride!