Except when they might be able to help someone else.

I got to thinking a little bit ago that I might as well air it all out (well, 89% of it maybe) and let God use it however he’d like. I’m probably committing professional suicide, and I’m ignoring conventional wisdom to wait until the pain’s not quite so raw, but heck. Let’s roll with it.

Some back story. I got my first book published in 2006. Then 2007, 2008, 2009. January will mark three whole years without a book published. And it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve just gotten lots of rejections. On the plus side, they’re the good kind of rejections. “We love your writing, but your previous sales history is a strike against you.”

It’s nice to know I can write.

It stinks to know that my two out-of-print books have become hurdles that have proven impossible to get over. I can’t bring a book back to life; I can only work hard to sell the ones that are still alive. But even that’s not enough.

Long story chopped, lots and lots of my friends have been getting book deals lately. I’ve prayed for this very thing for these women, I love them dearly, yet it stings. And makes me wonder if I’ve had my little moment in the sun and now I’m all washed up. Pity party anyone?

I got an e-mail from a friend this morning that sent me over the edge. She had been afraid to e-mail me about her new book deal, because she knew how it might make me feel (how fun is it to be that person that people are afraid to share good news with??).

I went upstairs, laid across my bed, and bawled. Like snot-on-my-comforter bawled. And talked to Jesus the whole time. I told him that it hurt really bad but that I know he has a plan for my life. I told him that if it doesn’t involve any more books, I want to be cool with that. I want his bigger, better dreams for my life. I don’t want this to steal my Cambodia joy, that beautiful sense of purpose I feel when I’m loving the poor. I told him to take my writing dreams once and for all, because even though I’ve offered them up before, I’m pretty sure I’m still holding on, or this stuff wouldn’t hurt so deeply.

Then I e-mailed my friend and told her I was so proud of her and that her book is going to be awesome (she’s one of the best/funniest writers I know). And then I told her the snotting on the bed story.

She wrote me back and told me about a really cool message she heard this weekend that totally applied to my woes. And she ended with this: “Just know that I am cheering for you, I love you, and I see Him when I look at you.”

Just when I was done with the snot.

So I’m working on making the not-a-book into an e-book (coming soon to a computer, kindle, or nook near you), and while the self-pitying part of me wants to rip it all up, the optimistic side thinks it might just be something that people will like to read.

And if God wants to get glory through my failures or obscurity or weeping instead of my successes and popularity and happiness, so be it. I can say with 100% conviction that I want to live HIS dreams for my life more than I want any little dream of my own.

That doesn’t mean that dying to self won’t ever hurt. But I know with all my heart there’s a deeper joy around the corner.

I can’t really go much of anywhere without a pen and some kind of paper. Thoughts are constantly swirling through my head, and it’s either write ‘em down or kiss ‘em goodbye.

Gabe’s mom and dad are hanging out with our kiddos for a couple days, and we’ve been enjoying nature, sharing hopes and dreams, playing on our computers, and eating food I didn’t cook.

Gabe was taking some HDR shots of some beautiful falls at Old Man’s Cave in Logan, OH (check out some more of his photos here), and I was crystallizing some thoughts when he snapped this pic. I had no idea the camera was on me, or I would have struck a more flattering pose. Looks comfy, no?

Anybody else take a notebook and pen with you wherever you go?

No one told me that the responsibility of marketing the book pretty much fell on my ignorant little shoulders. No one told me that non-fiction writers need a platform and have to actually leave the house and speak to groups of people a couple times a month.

No one warned me about that sad little acronym OOP (Out. Of. Print.). And just a couple years after publication, two of my four books succumbed.

Rather than blame publishers or editors or agents or my next door neighbor for the failures of my books (well, I did that at first), I determined to quit my crying and step up my efforts to keep the other two alive and kicking. Here’s my (I-wish-I-could-say-this-was) fail-proof plan for making that happen:

5 Unconventional Ways to Keep Your Published Book from Languishing in the Land of OOP:

1. Write an e-book that’s a companion to one of your “real” books.

Four years after husbands started asking me when I was going to write the men’s sequel to my book, Is That All He Thinks About?, I finally did it. In e-book form. Guys, meet the answer to your prayers. The Husband’s Guide to Getting Lucky. And I did a not-so-sneaky (but hopefully not obnoxious) job of plugging Is That All He Thinks About? throughout the pages of the e-book.

Yes, The Husband’s Guide took lots of time to write, and no, I didn’t get a big advance, but it’s also “free” advertising for my other book. And it’s also a really fun, helpful resource for dudes. Win win.

2. Give that e-book away for FREE.

My absolute favorite thing about e-books is that I can give one away to whomever I choose whenever I please, and it doesn’t cost me a dime. I’m always getting in trouble (hi, Gabe) for giving my books away instead of selling them. But in this case my husband’s cool with it, because it’s not costing us money.

And LUCKY YOU. Today, August 2, 2011, I’m giving away The Husband’s Guide to Getting Lucky ALL DAY LONG FOR FREE. All you have to do is trade me a tweet or facebook status update, and the book is yours. It’s easy as pie. Just click the blue button below.

3. Pair your living books with your dead books, and give people a rocking deal.

I bought out the remainder (all the copies the publisher had in stock) of my OOP books for about $1 each. And every once in awhile, I’ll sell them in combination with my other books for dirt cheap. Like, say, Is That All He Thinks About? costs you $13, or you can get Is That All He Thinks About?, From Blushing Bride to Wedded Wife, and Changing Your World One Diaper at a Time for $15. And I’ll throw in a free e-book.

Win win.

(And, by the way, you can get that sweet $15 deal today too. Just e-mail me if you’re interested.)

4. Find a really cool author to team up with.

I have several author friends who market my books along with their own (and I do the same for them). Here’s a sweet example.

Win win.

5. Get people to donate your books to a really awesome cause.

Over the past two years, my friends and blog readers have donated 562 copies of my book, Expecting, to crisis pregnancy centers around the world. I generally don’t make any money off these books (in fact, I usually lose a little), but it feels really, really good to know that I’ve played a small part in blessing some pregnant mamas in need of some real encouragement.

And these sweet women give me the motivation I need to keep the book in print, so we can keep on giving. (Click here if you’d like to help.)

And there you have it. For more awesome book marketing ideas from some of my writer friends, check out this post from my agent, Rachelle Gardner.

And for a chance to win a 4-pack of all my books, tell me the best book you read (or wrote!) recently.

1.) Write the Husbands’ Sex Book as an e-book for sure and for certain.

2.) Churn it out as quickly as I can.

3.) Spread the word about it to the best of my ability.

4.) Ask/plead/beg all of you for your help and prayers.

Details tomorrow. Today is Write-As-Furiously-As-I-Can Day.

I. Am. So. Excited.

“I do it five days a week,” I said. Stating the obvious. It’s one of my gifts.

“Yes,” he said, “and you are very good at…”

His pause was a little long. Reading pauses–another one of my gifts. “Good at what?” I said.

“I’m trying to think of how to say this in a nice way…”

“I’m listening.” (and bracing my sensitive self so as to minimize hurt feelings)

“Well…” he said. Enough with the pauses, dude. “Like, some people focus on one thing like leadership… or motherhood… but you…”

“Talk about nothing!” I said, putting words in his mouth, but feeling pretty confident they were the words he wanted to say but loved me too much to say them. “You talk about nothing! Every day of the week!”

“No, I didn’t say that,” he said.

“But that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No, you’re really good at…”

“Sucking! I suck really well. Daily!”

“No! You write in…what do you call it… you get all worked up about prayer doulas for a week, and then bam! It’s Traffick Jam! And then bam! Something else. You write in… bursts! That’s it. You write in bursts.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s be real here and talk about what’s in my head. Look at my head. Do you see a steady, consistent flow? Do you see smooth, slow, predictable? Or do you see bursts of ADD, lots of excitement and fizzle, a roller coaster careening dangerously around each bend, about to fly off the track?”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you,” he said. “I was actually trying to compliment you.”

“Go ahead and try again.”

“You don’t have… it’s just that you.. with your faith, you don’t go ahead of what God wants you to be. You’re comfortable with not having an agenda. You don’t try to be someone you’re not. However you feel God leading you, that’s where you go. And go and go and go.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. That means a lot.”

I see what he’s saying. Kind of. And as much as I’d like to add some focus and balance to my life, I do find the predictable to be boring. I guess I’d rather live a crazy, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-sweatpants adventure with Christ than know how things are going to turn out.

I don’t have this walking-with-God, living-for-his-kingdom thing down by any stretch. God and I will just have to keep working out the kinks together. But I’m game, and I know he is too.

Anybody with me?

I’m sure they promised big money and lots of fame if I’d just shell out a few hundred buckeroos for their one-of-a-kind writing course with top-notch instructors boasting loads of publishing experience.

I filled out a form for a free info packet and “writing aptitude test” and if my memory serves me correctly, the test consisted of 1.) some fill-in-the-adjective mad libs, 2.) a writing prompt involving a boy, a baseball, and a bottle of ketchup and 3.) a big blank box for me to try my hand at illustration.

I passed with flying colors, and my mom has been getting letters from the Institute of Children’s Literature addressed to Miss Marla R. Yoder ever since. When I first got married, she’d save them for me. Until one day when I was all, “Hey, Mom. You can just throw those away. It’s okay.” So for the next decade plus, that’s what she did.

Until this week. The sad-faced dalmatian puppy on the front of the envelope caught her eye. As did the words, “I’m afraid this is good-bye, Miss Yoder.” Without even asking my permission, she opened the letter to see what horrific circumstances had caused the Institute of Children’s Literature to terminate our one-sided relationship after 16 years of wasted stamps and paper.

Dear Miss Yoder,

Saying good-bye to you before you’ve done anything to develop your writing aptitude is extremely painful for us.

It’s one of the most trying times in a teacher’s life: We can recognize promise and see the potential in a prospective student, but we can’t just wave a wand and make it happen.

It’s also painful because, unless you become a famous author, we’ll probably never know whether you’ve pursued your dream of writing for children or whether you’ve just let it slip away.

It’s sad because we both know that you have the aptitude to write for children, yet, time after time, you’ve chosen not to develop it. The hundreds of applicants who fail our aptitude test every year would find that hard to believe.

So, the book you might have written, with our help and guidance, will go unwritten. Your stories will go unpublished, your articles unseen.

It’s a shame.

Yet, you’ll always have the aptitude you need to write for children and we’ll always be here to help you if you change your mind and decide to enroll. In fact, in case you’ve changed your mind since the last time we wrote to you, I’m enclosing an enrollment form. If you decide to join us, please return the form by April 29 with your $29 down payment.

[the next section goes on and on and on and on about how they've hand-picked a mentor for me and how fortunate I am to have Marilyn Strube, with her "legion of admirers," as my personal guide...]

Of course, the Institute doesn’t guarantee success. But our training gives you the best possible prospects for publication.

But if you’ve already said good-bye to your dream, we’ll say good-bye and wish you well.

Cordially,

Judith Brunstad

Friends, it’s too late for me, but IT’S NOT TOO LATE FOR YOU! Run, don’t walk, RUN toward your dreams!! Please! I beg you! Don’t let them slip away!! DON’T LET THEM SLIP AWAY!!!

Most of you know at least bits and pieces of my writing history. Wrote my first poem at age 4… Okay, so not back that far. Books published in 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009. And then nothing. January 2011–next month!–will mark 2 whole years without a book.

I don’t know that I’ve ever told the whole anguishing Zoo Book story. I probably haven’t because it’s still in process, so I’m not really removed enough from it to tell it objectively. I will tell you this. I have been working on it for a long, long, long time. And I have reworked and rewritten it many, many, many times. And my emotions have roller-coastered from heady excitement to the depths of despair.

And when it’s all said and done and God has had his way, I will tell you every last sordid detail.

But for now, I will say that two weeks ago I got some disappointing news. And then I rallied. And then I worried. And then I got an e-mail that infused me with more hope than I’ve had in quite awhile. And then I got busy writing.

And then TODAY? I was on a writing tear. God gave me words and words and ideas and structure and everything else I could possibly need. I have three more days before my house is invaded by people I adore and the Christmas festivities begin in [insert word here that has slipped my mind]. Oh, and have I mentioned that I have ZERO presents bought?

Would you say a quick prayer for me? That God would continue to infuse me with his wisdom and that I would get as much done on the book as humanly possible in these next few days? This project is so important to me for so many reasons. It means more to me than anything I’ve ever done (writing-wise). (and I love that so many of YOU are IN it!)

Thank you, friends, so very much.

And I haven’t had a chance to read all your wonderful comments/verses from yesterday, so I’m going to keep the Scripture Spiral Give-Away open for one more day.

Case in point. This blog entry from four years ago today–April 26, 2006.

I’m one of THOSE mothers…

I used to roll my eyes at those parents who would watch their little kids up on stage at church (during a Christmas program or what have you) and just be BEAMING for no apparent reason. Their child was doing nothing special. Just standing there. Maybe mouthing the words. More than likely staring off into space or twiddling his thumbs. They’d have their camera and video camera, snapping photos left and right, WAVING to their child from their pew. Yes, WAVING. Grinning to beat the band, proud as a peacock, oblivious to the world around them. All that mattered was their child–the STAR. Make me puke.

Okay, fast forward to Livi’s first year of Cubbies (AWANA club at church). April 2004. Cubbies award program. My little baby, MY LITTLE BABY, up on the stage! Oh, I could hardly believe it. She was so BIG. And so fabulous. And such a STAR. I know we took pictures, maybe video, I can’t remember.

I DO remember her PICKING HER NOSE on stage.

Fast forward some more to April 26th, 2006. Livi has her final Cubbies awards program before she graduates to Sparkies, and AVA makes her stage debut. They were sooo excited, especially Ava.

I don’t know what happened to me. I’m usually fairly reserved at times like these. But tonight I was shameless. Gabe had the video camera, I had the digital camera. I WAVED at my babies from my pew. I was BEAMING. The lighting was terrible, and the pictures I was taking weren’t turning out. “I’m going to the front,” I said, climbing over Gabe and making my way around the auditorium in my loud flipflops, kneeling by the front pew, thanking the Lord that I wore a long tank under my shirt, because the only pair of jeans I can fit in right now SHOW MY CRACK whenever I bend over. Met my friend Cami on my way up. “Let’s GO!” I told her. “We’ll be those crazy parents who just don’t know where to draw the line!”

My camera still wasn’t working. “Take pictures of my babies for me!” I hissed at Cami, who is a professional photographer.

Ava was grinning from ear to ear, twiddling with her skirt. Twiddling, twiddling, lifting, lifting, SHOWING THE WORLD HER BRIGHT BLUE CINDERELLA PANTIES! I still beamed.

They sang two songs, got a ribbon, and clamored off the stage.

My daughters, THE STARS.

I do have fabulous news. After much time in prayer and some I-really-truly-mean-it surrender, I’m back in a writing groove. If you couldn’t tell, it’s been a looooong time. I’ll explain more later, but just to give you a heads-up, I’m formulating a little survey (for any and all interested parties) concerning your thoughts and feelings about the internet and the friendships/connections you’ve made online. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.

Until then, here’s a Question for you–When did you start blogging, why did you start blogging and (in 10 words or less) what do you blog about?

Happy, happy Monday!!

p.s. Gabe installed a funky little “Like” button on my blog. If you like a certain post, you can click on the button, and it will post it to your facebook wall. Crazy, huh? If you want one for your own blog, check out his “simple” instructions here.

The book I started writing on jealousy and insecurity. The one about in-laws. The ones on Bible prophecy, dandelions, and the messy business of motherhood.

The companion book to mine that I want my husband to write: She Thinks That’s All You Think About.

Then there are all the scribbled quotes and thoughts and crazy notions and flashes of brilliance that I scrawled on scraps of this or that before they disappeared into the Abyss of Fabulous Ideas That You Get at the Most Inopportune Times (like when you’re driving on the interstate or standing in the shower) So Nothing Ever Comes of Them.

I’m not naive enough to think that all of my words are destined for publication someday. Goodness knows I’d be happy if a publisher said yes to just one more book. Period. But I’ve been thinking lately that God might have a plan for a lot of those words I worked so hard to piece together.

I’ve been flipping through old journals and notebooks lately (with bits of scrap paper flying everywhere), and sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised by what I discover. Something I wrote in 1999 that fits perfectly with a talk I’m giving in 2010. Something I recorded in 2002 that I can slip neatly into my current book project.

A few years ago my sister looked through her old journals and copied all the parts where she talked about what she wanted in a husband someday–and gave it to her groom on their honeymoon.

My mom e-mails snippets from her 90 (!!) journals to my girls about their early months and years of life. They love it.

I have hundreds of old letters and some old journals written by precious people in my family (including my Great-Aunt Leona’s Elite Trip Abroad Book from 1949), and I’ve been discovering ways to pass on some of those long-ago penned words to bless various folks.

All that journaling I did for three months while I student taught in Okinawa, Japan? Maybe it wasn’t good enough for a traditional publisher, but my self-published memoir has touched a lot of people over the past 10 years.

My first NaNoWriMo novel? Again, not Barnes & Noble material, but God is helping me use it to raise money for missions.

I’m hoping to carve out a day to myself sometime soon, and I’m going to sift through desk drawers and folders and notebooks and computer files and ask God to show me what He might want to do with some of those million+ words.

God is the consummate recycler, renewer, resurrector. Taking stuff (read: people) that everyone else thinks is worthless and making it like new again, using it for a brand new purpose. Everything He created is good, and He’s not about to let it go to waste.

I know I’m not God, and my words aren’t people. I also know I can’t take every word I’ve ever written and make something fabulous out of it. Some might serve no higher purpose than to show me how far I’ve come in 20 years. Some might show me that I’m still struggling with the same stinking things, darn it. Some I might gently kiss good-bye and toss in the trash (er, recycle bin I mean, Ali, my sweet green friend).

But some of them might find their way to somewhere special where they will somehow, someway, someday bless someone’s life and draw them closer to the God I love. Ooh, I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it!

Do you have any words stuffed away that could be resurrected, recreated, recycled? Any plans to give them new life any time soon?

p.s. I’m guest-posting today over at a very special gal’s blog. I’d go nuts if you’d pop over and say hi to me there! Stay tuned tomorrow for a riveting post on monochromatic books!

Need a little refresher? Back on November 1, I decided to try this crazy thing called NaNoWriMo. Thirty days later, I had myself a 50,000-word novel. I knew I didn’t want to pursue publication (for one thing, it’d be an insult to real fiction writers who’ve worked for years on their craft).

Then I got the idea–why not sell my “novel” to raise $ for the kiddos (orphans and girls sold in the sex trade) that my friend Jen works with in Cambodia? My unbelievably talented husband created a website for me (in 2 days), hooked me up with a company that helps you sell e-books, and we’re ready to go!

You can find out all this info and more on the site, but I decided on a pricetag of $8. Half of that $8 (so $4) will go directly to Jen in Cambodia to buy food and supplies for the kiddos she helps. The other $4 ($3.25) will go to Paypal fees, Payloadz fees (the company I’m using to distribute the e-book), and website hosting fees. The 75 cents left over? Pei Wei Fund (for hungry, but not starving, children at the Taviano House).

Here’s the deal. You have two choices:

1. You can read the book a little bit at a time for the next 10 months (a new installment will post every 1-3 days). This is totally free.

2. Or you can buy it now and read it all at once.

I’d love to hear your feedback on the project. But if you would, go easy on me for the time being. I’m in a tender spot right now (mostly because of Miss Faith). To use an American Idol analogy, if you’ve got an Ellen comment, I’m all ears. If you’re feeling Simon-ish (truthful but painful), just hold that thought for a week or so. Thanks!

Have an AWESOME weekend, friends. And please, please keep praying for Faith!

p.s. Would the darling person who sent me the gorgeous giraffe-print tunic and Scrabble letters and lip gloss please speak up? (I know you probably won’t, but it’s worth a try.) You rocked my world today, friend! Bless you!