Lara D. Elliott - Inspirations

I've been struggling for a while with my position in the writing world. When I first started writing novels, I found a contest run by a Christian writers organization. The fee to enter was cheaper for members, and it seemed like there were other benefits of membership, so I joined. I didn't place in the competition, but I learned a lot. I wrote my second novel for NaNoWriMo and then found critique groups in the Christian writers organization. The feedback on my work was both positive and constructive. I enjoyed swapping and giving my feedback to others on their work. Not only did I get to read other stories, but I practiced looking critically at what I was reading and saw ways to improve my own writing. But then we get to chapter eight. Spoiler alert: the main character has sex. Actually, that happened in chapter seven. I put a note in the email where I submitted the chapter for critique, warning potential readers that there was slightly sensitive material. Now, it didn...

Good job! You're awesome! You get a gold star! Display it on the fridge. A plus! Honor roll! Top of the class! Graduate with honors. Get to work. Be on time. Repeat tomorrow. Here's your paycheck. I do a good job Day in, day out With no recognition. Where's my gold star? This piece was written at 3:00 in the morning, after a couple hours of sleeplessness, stress, and tears. The problem with caring too much about grades and praise from teachers is that you don't get that in real life. I get appreciated in thank you cards from my students. But I'm in a position that doesn't make it easy to receive any professional accolades. Many of my friends in the same field as me have earned professional accolades. Their position makes it possible and they've done a great job. I just wish that doing a good job in my position could get some recognition too every once in a while. Like this poem? You might like this other poem about the struggles of wo...

Writers have often been warned not to let their writing turn into purple prose. Language that's so flowery and ornamented that the meaning is lost. It is the written equivalent to acting's melodramatic. However, writers still are praised for prose that is poetic without going to this extreme. Many of the writers I follow on Twitter like to post their best lines using whatever hashtag is appropriate for the day. They often pick their most poetic. The most metaphorical. The prose that paints the most extravagant picture. I love poetry. When I was younger, poetry was my writing outlet. The dream of writing a novel was too distant, too huge a mountain to climb. But poetry was a way to be creative. To play with words. Fitting text into a meter and a rhyme scheme was like a logic puzzle that I enjoyed solving. But when I became a novelist, somehow my love of poetry didn't cross over. A year ago, I was depressed about the prose in my novels. I wasn't even close to purple...

In a book I'm reading, the characters mention the God moments in their life. Little ways that God has shown himself. I've mentioned several of my moments in previous posts. Here's another. Yesterday, on the way home from work, the Christian radio station I usually listen to was playing the same song yet again. I just wasn't in the mood. I flipped to the other Christian radio station on my presets and they were also playing something I didn't want to listen to. I have Christian CDs in my car and I just wasn't in the mood to listen to those same songs again. I changed the station to pop music. I used to listen to it a lot. I used to sing along to the worldly songs (leaving out the bad words cause I've always been a goody two shoes). I used to laugh at the DJs and their inappropriate jokes. The first pop song I heard yesterday was really good. A slow duet about love. The next one was awful. Dirty lyrics and not even a good beat or melody. The next one ...

I firmly believe that God called me to be a writer. He has made it clear time and again that I must write and I must tell the story He has given me. And yet I question Him. Why would God tell me to write a book, but not give me the talent to do it well? Why would God choose me when He could have chosen someone far more qualified to tell His story? I am reminded of the movie Amadeus wherein the composer Salieri constantly compares himself to the genius of Mozart. God gave Salieri the desire to be a composer, but did not give him the talent that Mozart had. Salieri had a good career, but never achieved the greatness of Mozart. So why did God give me the task to write but not the talent? Well, maybe He did. God gave me the task to be a writer. It is my calling. But God never told me I would be an overnight success. Writing is a long process. Getting good at writing is a longer process. Maybe I'm in the exact place God intended me to be at this moment. Maybe I'm not done ...

Here is the last of my magazine entries that didn't get accepted. Saved it for the season. This one was written for the 100 words or less challenge. Enjoy! “What is that?” Pauline shed her coat and pointed at the green monstrosity by the front window. Dave’s face scrunched. “What? The Christmas tree?” “I mean the mangled mess of wire and green plastic. You can’t have my parents over with that sitting in the living room.” “There’s nothing wrong with my tree. I’ve had that since college. It’s a tradition to put it up after the Turkey Bowl.” Dave lovingly stroked one of the branches. Several needles fluttered to the floor. “Dummy. My dad is a Christmas tree farmer. He will be insulted and appalled.” “Oh.” The doorbell rang. Did you check out my other magazine rejections? Read them here and here .

NaNoWriMo. National Novel Writing Month. Write a 50,000 word novel in the thirty days of November. And I won. Sorta. Last year's Nano project was started early too, but I only wrote a few thousand words in November. And then I kept writing for months. Over a year later, I finally had 50,000 words, but I was stumped on how to end it. After a couple critique partners read some chapters, I realized I had spent a year writing 50,000 words worth of crap. There were some good scenes in there. There was some good writing. But the plot lacked cohesion. Lacked motivation. I finally decided to give it up. Work on something else for a while. One project I started working on had actually started as a couple of scenes I jotted down many years ago. Even before I really became a serious "writer." I had an epiphany what direction I could take the story and I started outlining. It felt good to have some structure thought out. Then one day in October, I had a really crushing mom...