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!

Of Sex and Meaninglessness at the University of Iowa

I just read a piece of literary pornography for class.  Then I checked my school email to find that someone else was sexually assaulted in a residence hall last Monday.  "The only person responsible for sexual misconduct is the perpetrator," these emails say.  I have it memorized.

Last time I was assigned erotica, I just didn't show up to class.  I knew that the issue would come again--I'm in the Creative Writing program of the University of Iowa, for crying out loud.  And I knew that I wouldn't be able to just not show up every time it did.

My teacher gave us a "trigger warning" in class last week.  She warned us that it would be "heavy stuff."  It wasn't heavy, really.  It was actually excruciatingly shallow, but that's a problem for another post.  "If there's a problem, please feel free to talk to me, and we can work something out."  What, an alternate reading like my mom would ask my high school for?  Then what am I supposed to do for the class discussion?  Maybe I do just need to have the guts to walk up to a teacher and say, "I'm not going to read this."  At least then I wouldn't have to read this stuff.

I don't just want out of the reading anyway though, because me getting out of the reading doesn't solve the problem.  The problem is that every student on campus is assigned stuff like this.

Maybe I could go to the teacher or the dean or the whoever else in the department, offended and indignant, but I honestly don't think I'd be the only one, and I honestly think that my voice would be muffled.

Sexual assaults happen because we live in a sexual culture.  We idolize sex, we dwell on sex, we fantasize about sex, we glorify pornography as expressive artwork while we push the realm of creativity to the breaking point until we're a bunch of jaded philosophers who believe in nothing but meaninglessness.  And then we sacrifice our morality on the alter of academic respect.

Do you know why sexual assaults are out of control in your dorm rooms, University of Iowa?  Do you really want to know what you can do to help?

You can stop assigning your students subject material that forces them to spend so much time and intellect on sex.

There's all of this feminism floating around campus, but it's self-defeating.  Feminists run around trying to "empower women," but no one is teaching all these guys on campus how to be men, they're just assigning erotic readings as if these poor guys need more sexual content to wallow in and never teach them a word about self-control.

If you really want to respect and empower my gender, quit pointing at sex every time a female shows up.

If you really want to stop sexual assaults in your dorm rooms, quit teaching your students how to do it in the classrooms.

And writers: we have a power to make people think differently.  Every piece you write that tells your audience that there is no meaning, that the closest you will ever come to meaning is through drugs and sex, you are abusing and wasting that power, and I am ashamed to be one of you.

Help me show the world that we can be more than that... and then maybe the world can be, too.

Of Money, Ted Dekker, and God's Provision

There is a writer’s conference in February in Austin, Texas, co-hosted by Ted Dekker.  That’s right, Ted Dekker.  (In case you don’t know, he’s extremely awesome!)  I knew when I first saw the link to this conference’s web page on Ted Dekker’s Facebook that I had to go.  Then I crunched the numbers, and with the Early Bird Registration, I decided that I not only had to go, but I COULD go!  It would be tight, and I’d have to start hitting up my friendly neighborhood bulimic vampires at Biolife regularly to make it work, but it was going to work!

***Bulimic Vampires: I donate plasma.  It sucks out your blood, separates the plasma, and spews your red blood cells back into you.  More importantly, if I keep my weight where it should be, I get paid $20+ to go sit and read for an hour.  It’s a pretty sweet deal!***

The Early Bird Registration deadline was September first.  But when I logged on on September first, I found that it had expired  at the beginning midnight of September first, not the ending midnight of September first.

I was devastated.  It would be $150 more than I had originally planned.

Then tuition payments hit, and they hit hard.  Two classes cost a lot more money than one.  Then my fur-ever baby got sick and had to go to the vet.  And then the dentist decided that they needed an extra $700.  I pay for parking on campus three times a week and go through twice as much gas now with commutes between work and school.  So, the past few weeks, I’ve been slowly resigning myself to the fact that this career-altering, maybe even life-changing trip wasn’t going to happen, accepting it as just one more thing that I can’t do as a nontraditional student putting myself through school.

I got an email from Ted Dekker today.  Obviously, not actually Ted Dekker, but whoever it is who puts together his mass-emails.  They reinstated the Early Bird rate for a couple of days.

Guys, I bought my ticket.  I'm going to Austin in February!!!

I am literally crying right now.

I've been wound so tight and been so tired ever since classes started up again, but it hasn't been like the Semester from the Underworld.  Yes, balancing school with a full time job is hard work, and yes I lose a lot of sleep to do this, and yes I have plenty of moments of discouragement.  But during the Semester from the Underworld, every time I had to drag my exhausted, over-caffeinated corpse out the door in the mornings to spend 14+ solid hours working and going to class, I was overwhelmed with the idea that I didn’t belong here, doing what I’m doing.  I couldn’t do this.  This was impossible.

But everything is possible.  I can endure what God has placed in front of me, because I have His strength in me.  I made it through that semester, with straight A’s, I might add.  And I’ll do it again this semester.  I can do this because this is where God put me, and this is what He’s given me to do.

And into that moment of defeat when I thought that my cross to bear was this monotonous life of school and work, school and work, school and work with the actual quest for publication on the back burner until a break in the school year only to be moved back just as it starts to boil, into that moment of discouragement and resignation, God had Ted Dekker email me so He could tell me: “Here, Kaycee.  Trust Me.  This is what you’re here for.”

Ted Dekker knows why I’m here.  “It’s not so much about what kind of story should I write, or what kind of story is the publishing industry looking for,” he said on the video in his email.  “It’s about how to be a writer.  It’s about how to unlock that space that’s already inside of you.  That’s why you’re drawn to this, that’s why you’re drawn to being a writer.  There is something inside of you that wants to get out, it wants to explode, it wants to discover, and it also wants to communicate this beauty that’s deep inside of you, or this struggle that’s deep inside of you, with the world.”

I attend the University of Iowa where writers sit in a circle and talk about how writing is just an elaborate deception about engaging the lies that we tell ourselves, or that writing is a way to explore the darkness within, and in order to be successful at it you have to have this gritty edge, that it can’t be too bright or no one will believe it.  I don’t know if any of my university professors or peers will ever get my writing, but Ted Dekker does.

That’s why I’m here in Iowa City, pursuing writing.  And every time the impossibility of it all crashes over me and I start to panic, that’s the moment when God reaches His hand out to me and provides what I need, and I’m reminded of what I’m really doing here, and why I’m really doing it.

I don’t know what God has in store for me in Austin, I just know that by His provision, I get to go!