People can do as they please with our gifts

Next week is my youngest son's ninth birthday and we've been wrapping presents, which he's been shaking and trying to guess. Every Christmas or significant birthday, I've faced the challenge of trying to match gifts with people who will love them. I like to think they will find my presents valuable or useful and not be disappointed. Don't we all prefer to think that our presents are being used and loved rather than sitting, forgotten, in the back of some cupboard or drawer? But protocol demands that when we give a gift, it's out of our hands and we must leave it to the recipient to decide what to do with it.

Years ago I got into some friction with my mum which started when she offered to give me back a present I'd given her so that I could give it to my mother-in-law instead. I protested that I gave it to her, thought she'd like it and didn't want it back. She said she was only trying to help and then got offended and didn't talk to me for some time. I regretted opening my mouth and it made me more determined than ever to remember that what other people do with presents I give them is their own business. If we find the perfect centrepiece for somebody's hall stand and then they don't choose to put it there, we can't march over and demand that they do. Once it's wrapped and handed to them, it's out of our control.

Well, why should it be any different with gifts we give to God? Many of us have heard it said that God gives us our passions and talents and what we do with them is our gift back to Him. In my case, I like the notion that writing novels isn't just amusing myself and others but giving a gift back to God. But it struck me that some of the angst I go through may stem back to this whole thing about gift giving. Am I treating God with the same protocol I'd treat anybody else I gave a gift to? Or am I getting my nose out of joint because I really want Him to use it a particular way?

Perhaps I catch myself thinking like this. If I give God my writing, I consider it a good gift which includes time, imagination and skill in crafting words and telling stories. It also covers the sacrifice of possible money I would have earned doing something else instead. So I expect Him to take it and make sure lots of people read it, recommend it to their friends and that I'll get plenty of good feedback. I also like to think that He'll wrangle things so I can earn enough money from it to support my family and even get to take them on little holidays from time to time. I want Him to help set up articles and speaking engagements. I look at the lifestyles of other authors and notice that this seems to be the way He's used their gifts. That's how He's supposed to use a writing gift, isn't it?

But no, God, like anyone else, has a perfect right to leave my gift at the back of His cupboard if He wants to. What applies to other people must also apply to Him. It's my inconsistency that makes me sad. A vase may be put on the hall stand for show where many people can see it, or it may be used in the recipient's own private retreat to be used only by them. In the same way, a gift of writing may be used by God to impact millions, or perhaps just thousands, hundreds or even tens.

If you're like me, you chafe at the idea of being tossed to the back of a cupboard and forgotten about. Imagine somebody taking out your gift and saying, "I forgot all about this. I totally would've been using it if I remember I had it." Over the years, I wonder if I've had some vague, unconscious idea that this is what it may have been like with my writing in God's celestial drawer?

Bringing these feelings to light shows up some ridiculousness about them. It helps to remember the nature of this particular recipient, who has promised that He's numbered all the hairs on our heads, that He'll never forget about any of us, that there's nowhere we can hide from Him, no matter how fast or far we may try to run. He is closer than our next breath and living deep in our hearts. Thankfully, this is where He differs from any normal gift recipient. His drawers don't contain darkness and cobwebs. He is responsible and dependable with what we give Him, because He gave it to us in the first place. And that needs to be enough for us. All we need to worry about is being good stewards of our gifts and using them to the best of our abilities, trusting Him to illuminate what we don't know every step of the way. We need to rely on His promise that He doesn't give gifts for nothing and will certainly make sure our gift are put to perfect use.

We may be too close to catch the spiritual fragrance of our lives

My daughter, Emma, asked me, 'If you could change just one aspect of your face, what would you choose?'

I really couldn't think of anything straight off. No single feature seemed to stand out as needing a change. There was nothing I'd put myself through the rigors of botox or plastic surgery for, anyway. Eyes OK, nose, check, cheeks, no problems, mouth and chin fine. I wouldn't mind reducing the sheer size of my skull but that wasn't what she was getting at. It was a surprising exercise that raised another question. If I can't find any major problem, why do I pass other women and think, "I wish I looked like her"? Could it be that I'm just overly familiar with my own face.

Is the concept of longing for greener pastures such a powerful syndrome? When I was a teenager living down near the beach, I loved the Adelaide Hills because I thought they looked like picture postcards from some storybook. I suppose they still do, but that doesn't stop me wanting to be elsewhere now that I've lived here since I was 18. The Italian countryside, America, European castles, the Great Wall of China, tropical islands up Queensland's coast, I'd be at any of those places in a flash if I had the chance.

Where do we draw the line and just be content? I sometimes find myself battling a sort of restlessness and guilt that I'm not different and feeling that I ought to be. There's a deep angst that I don't measure up to what others would probably be like in my place. Yet I did a similar sort of exercise to when Emma asked what part of my face I'd change. Once again, it was hard to put my finger on anything that may need a radical overhaul.

I love my family, work hard, and know I must have a sense of humour because it often gets tickled. I don't like the ill-at-ease feeling I sometimes get during one-on-one social situations, but as I try to cover up, I really shouldn't beat myself up over that one. I must be empathetic, because anyone without that quality probably couldn't pull off writing the sorts of books I do. What is it then? What is the quality I lack that causes this restlessness? Do you ever have similar feelings?

Could it be that we can all relate to the story of the boy who wanted more than anything to visit the shiny, palatial dwelling around the other side of the lake from where he lived? One day he set off on an expedition to get a close look. When he arrived, he was perplexed to find that it was just a normal looking place with weeds in its courtyard and a bit of salt damp in its bricks. And it didn't shine at all.

Suddenly, a girl who lived inside came out to greet him. While they were chatting, she pointed across the lake and said, "I'd love to know who's lucky enough to live in that fantastic looking place." The boy was amazed to see that she was pointing straight at his house, shining in the early sunset.

My son, Blake and I enjoy going on night walks around our neighbourhood. Near our last house is a huge mound of pine chips. He likes running up and down where there are grooves from the feet of other kids. I like getting several hundred yards away from it and then taking a deep breath of the pine-scented breeze. It doesn't seem as strong closer up. Maybe it's the same with life in general. We don't necessarily notice the goodness when we're living with or through anything, because we're too close to catch its real spiritual fragrance.

That's why we hear stories of elderly women who tell harried mothers of toddlers to remember to appreciate and enjoy every moment. Also, why I've sometimes been away for a couple of weeks, or even just a weekend, and then returned home with a renewed appreciation for my environment. Whenever I've finished writing a book and all the editing has been done, I like to wait a bit of time and then read the pages with fresh eyes as if I'm a brand new reader.

Maybe taking some distance to survey our familiar things really works. I've heard advice to list our blessings as if we're somebody else. Not a bad idea.

Maybe I'm being pruned

The start of 2013 has been one of pruning for me.  I don't feel I have many leaves fluttering in the breeze right now, let alone fruit dangling from my boughs.

Shortly before Christmas, we had a surprise call from our Real Estate agent telling us that our landlords decided not to renew our lease. Their son had decided he wanted to move in. This was a blow as we'd only been living in the picture-postcard house for eight months. Back when we first went through, I made a point to ask whether they were looking for long-term tenants. "Yes, they are." The owner lived overseas and her partner lived interstate. It seemed perfect and we all loved the house. It incorporated 2-storeys, a huge spa bath, lots of cupboard space and a restful blue colour scheme. I'd had great fun showing people through and saying, "Yep, this is our mansion." Now, as we started looking for other rental properties, I was learning how foolish it was of me to be so proud of something that had never belonged to me. Having a grueling house move so recently behind us, breaking our old lease and losing money was all heartbreaking.

Hey, I've been going around saying how our prayers have been answered, that even though we weren't actively looking for a new house, this just came up out the blue, we're blessed and serendipitous things are happening. Now, as well as being homeless, I feel like a total doofus.

About the same time, early January, there was an email from my publisher reiterating things we couldn't help knowing already, that Australian Christian fiction sales are slow and even though we're all doing our very best, we're all pouring in and getting not much to show for it. I remember sitting there reading it, straight after coming back from walking through yet another potential change of address, thinking, OK, I might as well face this too. I'd better stop kidding myself that book sales will some day shoot through the roof. That's what I've been hoping for over a decade and I might have been better working some office job.

I avoided blogging and social media because I didn't want to come across as wallowing in self-pity, even though I was. Social media, I've found, is like the surface of a pond. When you stop putting things in, the ripples subside as if you had never been working your butt off. So I felt isolated as well as foolish. At the same time, my eldest son came to the end of his homeschooling journey and couldn't figure out whether he ought to accept a TAFE or University offer and I felt clueless about how to advise him. My identity as the wise, homeschooling mum who always knows the best advice to give was out of the window too. I felt demoralised and drained. There was no money, not even enough for a lousy take-away. The ripple effect of self pity was still going strong, anyway.

It occurred to me to begin wondering why this stripping away seemed to be happening all at once. I sensed that maybe, if I'd been setting my worth on all that fruit and foliage, it was placed where it shouldn't be.

OK, I've got to accept that I'm still the same person as when things seem to be going well. I've got to remind myself that God loves me for who I am, not for what I do or what happens to me. Am I actually going through a pruning stage like that vine in the New Testament?

Then I begin seeing, maybe it's a favour, in a way. People who get to keep all their status symbols may be like urbanites who have their view of the galaxy obscured by the city skyline. At this stage of 2013, I feel I have nothing to stand behind at all. What you see is what you get. I must stop worrying over what people think, how I'm perceived. Must stop trying to meet higher standards. Maybe when your trappings are pruned back, the simplicity of merely living in the knowledge that God loves you no matter what, may be all we need. It may allow me to move from the city smog and draw a deep, fresh breath. Galatians 6:4 tells us not to be impressed with ourselves. Well, maybe God was making sure I could not be impressed with myself.

What am I finding when it's all pared back? That family are most important. That it doesn't really matter where we live, because we're still having fun times in the house we've just moved into. That even though I'm aware of the lowly position Aussie Christian fiction holds compared to other literature, I still want to spend slabs of time doing it. I still have a sense of purpose about it, even though it's hard and probably won't ever earn me status or wealth as I'd once dared to hope. It's still my chosen pursuit in spite of the lack of trappings. Giving yourself wholeheartedly to the task closest to your heart is valuable.

Maybe these are worthwhile sorts of thing to find when you're pruned.  And at times like this, I guess we shouldn't forget the real purpose of being pruned is to bear more fruit at some later time.

The Next Big Thing

The Next Big Thing is a blog chain for writers and artists linking together and talking about their current projects. It gives you, the reader, a chance to discover great writers and their work you may not have heard of before. I was delighted a few weeks ago when my friend, Jeanette O'Hagan invited me to participate. The concept is simple: each creator gets a chance to share a bit about their latest project (new release, completed book or works in progress). The opportunity is paid forward to another blogger or group of bloggers who likewise post about their next best thing in exactly one week’s time, January 16th, 2013.
Check out Jeanette's blog, http://jennysthread.com/the-next-big-thing-blog-hop/ and the fascinating fantasy/adventure trilogy she has been hard at work on. Her "Arkad's Children" sounds like something I'd really love to read.

Anyway, here is my contribution below.


1. What is the working title of your next book?
Along for the Ride

2. Where did the idea come from for the book?
For a long time, I've been interested in the Christian healing ministry. There are such a lot of questions, such as whether God really promises in the Bible to heal his followers. If it is part of the covenant we have with him, why do we see so many sincere Christian followers struggling with their health? As this is an interest of mine, I've read many non-fiction titles about healing and they've been fascinating. I've never come across what I've learned from those books and websites being written as the main thread of a fiction story, so decided I'd really love a go at doing that. Hence, my hero is suddenly given a shocking diagnosis from his doctor and doesn't know where to turn.

3. What genre does your book fall under?
Basically, it is Christian romance with elements of drama and some suspense and mystery, the same as all of my other contemporary novels.

4. What actors would you choose to play the parts of your characters in a movie rendition?
This is a fun question. I think I can imagine somebody like Sienna Miller or Keira Knightley as my main heroine, Imogen. For the hero, Asher, I had to think harder. Perhaps a younger Hayden Christenson, as he appeared as Anakin Skywalker in "The Phantom Menace" or an older Ben Barnes, the hero of "Prince Caspian.

5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
A young woman, anxious to make up for mistakes in her past, becomes far more of a pivotal help than she bargained for, while a young man regains his health and comes to terms with old regrets at the same time.

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
No details are available yet about dates and times, but I'll be working on it with my usual publisher for the next block of time.

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?
Somewhere between one and two years, as I paused to work on another project in the interim.

8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
As I haven't come across many books like it, I'm not sure. I often shy away from medical dramas which may deal with similar themes, as I don't like lots of detail and sadness. Perhaps you might tell me what it reminds you of if you read it. It certainly isn't a medical drama.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?
To be honest, my inspirations are too many to mention. Whenever I read a novel that keeps me glued to my seat, longing to know what will happen to the heroes next, I get inspired to keep trying my own hand at it and perfecting my craft.

10. What else about the book might pique a reader's interest?
Well, I'm trusting there's a good combination of chemistry and attraction between the main characters to keep us happy and hopeful, enough mystery to keep us wondering and enough humour to make us laugh, despite the underlying seriousness of the main theme. Can a book about a serious medical diagnosis boost a reader's spirits? That's the challenge I took and we'll have to see.


I'm passing the baton on to my friend, Penny Reeve, who is a very talented author of picture books and children's chapter books. Mother, wife, missionary, craftsperson, presentor, she has lived an interesting and varied life with many roles. You'll find her at http://pennyreeve.com/page3.htm

To use Thought Replacement Therapy (TRT) in the new year.

I'm interested in the science behind thoughts. It's fascinating the way certain areas of our brains ignite when we're experiencing different thoughts, whether they're nourishing or depleting. Their impact begins in our brains and spills over to the chemistry of the rest of our bodies. One individual's brain map can look totally different to another person's. Just as there are various types of forests on earth, such as pine or eucalyptus, the plantations in people's heads look different, depending on how they've let their thoughts cultivate the dendrites and synapses in their brains. There are forests of pain, self-pity and resentment, like horror movie settings we'd prefer to stay out of. Then, there are other fragrant forests of peace and happiness like the Garden of Eden.

Some people have assumed that I'm a fairly happy type of person, but I'm aware of a wilderness area I prefer to keep hidden. It saps my strength and enthusiasm and becomes difficult to prune. Razing this forest to the ground is my aim for 2013. I'm aware that it's a pretty thick forest, as I've been nurturing these suckers for years, but I just need good tools to demolish each tree. The word of God, which I believe is a sharp, gleaming double-edged sword of purity, will be the main tool in my box. The others are an assortment of other healthy thoughts. The plan is that whenever any of those bad thoughts pop up their dense, weedy heads, instead of pondering them, I attack them by replacing them instantly with thoughts I prefer to choose.

I guess we all have our individual toxic thoughts in our forests. I'll mention just a few of mine.

There's this one. What I've tried to do isn't really working and we have no money. I'll attack these with thoughts and memories of good things which have happened and remind myself that we've managed to cover everything we need.

Then there's, Poor Blake. We can't take him on holidays as we used to do with Logan and Emma. He'll be narrow and impoverished in his outlook and it's all because of our stupid, selfish choices. This can be attacked with reminders that his life is full of other enriching opportunities and he's had the homeschooler's privelege of growing up with his brother and sister always around.

I've battled health related negative thoughts over the years, but without going into a lot of detail, I've learned to snuff them out by topping up with one of the major themes of my latest novel, "Along for the Ride."How's that for a tantaliser? 

There's the one that goes, I don't get enough opportunities to share my writing and I wish I was famous. My daughter said recently, "I didn't know you wanted to be famous, Mum. I'd hate to be famous. I explain, "I don't mean the Justin Bieber, Lady Gaga sort of fame. I'd love the prestige of other Christian authors who can walk around shopping centres without being swamped for autographs and enjoy normal lives with their families, yet they know full well that fans all around the world are eagerly awaiting their next books and their in-boxes are full of invitations to speak at interesting venues. They don't have the hassle of being told they have to move house and look at the mountain of unsold books in their garages, apparent monuments to their failure." That horrible, jealous tree drops nuts that spring hastily into other toxic saplings. "I'm sure I write as good as (insert some name) so why can't I get the breaks?... why don't more people want to read my books and blogs?... what's the point of even going on?"

Well, I'll attack all them with a spray bottle I've heard called, "The Elijah Complex." Do you remember how he sat beneath that box thorn tree on the heels of a stunning victory? He'd have welcomed the acclaim of a hero, but found it easier to focus on the queen's threat to annihilate him as soon as she possibly could. His brain was full of a forest of trees I can relate to. "Nobody else cares about the things I do... I'm all alone in my passion... They've killed all your prophets and now they're after me too." That was shown to be a gross exaggeration, as there were several godly prophets eager to stand up and be counted, but in Elijah's mind and heart, his "Poor Me" statements were true.

I can attack this style of thought by bringing those other truths directly to mind. These are the times I can re-read reviews and warm feedback letters and think of praise about how my stories have positively impacted people. I have had some excellent breaks. People all around Australia have heard of me and read my books. That'll get those poisonous trees falling.

I guess I want to be like Eleanor H Porter's character, Pollyanna. My thought replacement therapy is similar to what she called her Glad Game. It all started in the first book when she received a Christmas relief basket containing a set of crutches instead of the doll she'd hoped for. Her impoverished pastor father told her, "Be happy because you don't need the crutches." He gave her a gift of attitude and perspective that changed the course of her life. I've heard Pollyanna given a bad wrap-up by modern 'smart' people who miss the point entirely. They assume she's a sugary-sweet optimist living in denial, but they're mistaken. Pollyanna never denied the crutches. She simply chose not to focus on them. That made all the difference and no matter what detractors say about her, she's the one whose attitude shone through many best-selling books by a string of authors after Eleanor H Porter. (Sadly, several of them are now out of print.)

So Pollyanna is my literary example and I have a scientific one too. I want to be like Pavlov's dog. He came to a point where the sound of that bell made him drool as he anticipated the arrival of some succulent meat. Perhaps if we practice TRT, we'll find ourselves at a stage where just the whiff of a negative, upsetting thought will make our spirits leap as we anticipate the cheery, positive, happy-making counter-thoughts we've trained to follow immediately on their heels. That will make a fool of any malevolent thoughts we're given to ponder. It'll chase them away for good. That's my hope for this year.

Do you think it may be worth practicing HRT too?  

That creativity can't be hurried

I am currently at the end of a writing project, "Along for the Ride" my ninth novel. It's been edited and is now with my publisher, awaiting a few more finishing touches for publication in 2013. I'm keen to get started on a new idea for number ten. Ideas are bouncing around in my mind, but haven't crystallised into a smooth plot yet. At this stage, it's easy to get a bit frustrated when they are pushing each other around and not coming together quite as quickly as I'd hoped. I'd really like to commence the writing part, when I'm knocking off chapter by chapter and growing a pile of A4 pages.

But I've learned a few lessons this week. The first was from an interview with John Cleese. He said that one of his secrets of creativity is to take all the time necessary to ponder or ruminate over an idea without rushing it. Another member of the Monty Python team who he considered more naturally gifted than him (and he didn't say who), never seemed to come up with the unique ideas that Cleese did. One day, the reason dawned on him. His friend wanted to feel as if he was a productive worker so when he was focusing on script writing, he'd leap on the first workable idea that occurred to him with a "that'll do" sort of attitude.

John Cleese, on the other hand, would take as much time as he needed to make his scripts as polished and original as possible. His advice struck a chord with me. I thought, "That's it!" Daydreaming doesn't look productive because we have a lot of ground-in attitudes erroneously programmed into our cellular make-up. First, there's the Protestant work ethic, which convinces us that we need to work hard and have something tangible and admirable to show at the end of each day. Secondly, to reinforce this, we have the 'instant' culture of the 21st century to contend with. Labour-saving devices, fast food drive-thrus, bombardments of blogs, emails and media press releases telling us how to be more productive, not waste a moment and get things done in a snap as soon as the thought occurs to us. We even get into the habit of speed reading the interesting articles that come up on our computers because our subconscious minds tell us that we must rush back to producing, impressing, working hard, having something to show for ourselves.

So I've decided to change my attitude. Even though I've got the slower-paced lifestyle of a writer/homeschooling mother, I've still fallen in the fast racing, rat-race style way of thinking. Of course, it's not entirely my fault. It's been drilled into all of us from our school days. We have a blank exam booklet placed before us and are told to come up with essays and stories which will wow a teacher's socks off within a time limit of 120 minutes. Didn't we used to get in trouble if we handed up just a paragraph or two because our ideas wouldn't come together? Didn't I personally, used to get scolded by my teachers for staring into space? We take on board what we're taught from those who are set over us as our guides and mentors.

It's great to get a grasp of the real truth. Daydreaming may not look productive, but when I'm doing it, I'm really working just as hard as I am when those chapters are flying out of my printer. Lying in the bath and thinking about story possibilities isn't time-wasting at all. Neither is going on night drives with music on, just because I know it gets my creative juices flowing. Even though it may look to the world (and myself) as if this is just wool-gathering and pointless, nothing could be further from the truth.

In the book of Nehemiah onwards, we read how our hero heard about the plight of his beloved city, Jerusalem, and decided to take his life into his hands by appealing to his master, the Persian king Ataxerxes, to let him return with a retinue of followers to rebuild the city. In my mind, the short chapters of this biblical book moved quickly enough for me to imagine that he had the idea one day, went out to approach the king the next, and had his group and supplies set up and ready to leave at the end of the first night. Not so at all. I read that scholars have figured out that Nehemiah took three to four months before he decided to approach Ataxerxes with his creative idea. During that block of time, he pretty much sat silently before God, fasting and praying the whole time. That's because a grand, creative idea takes time to germinate.

In 2013, I want to be the sort of creative gardener who understands these things. I challenge anyone reading this to do the same. It's not easy in a world where ideas are zapping around the globe, bombarding our in-boxes and Face Book walls while I type. We don't realise that when we fall into the 'success' traps of being productive, speed reading, multi-tasking and having something impressive to show critics and admirers alike at the end of each day, that we're actually pulling back from a life of creativity.

It's liberating to realise that instead of getting frustrated, I actually have it right. As I take my time and scribble notes into my scrap book, I've no doubt a tenth novel will bear fruit in its perfect time.

Not to let lack of intelligence stop me

To help research the current novel I'm working on, I was delving into a few books about quantum physics and the wonders of scientists who are discovering the most minute, tiniest particles. I've also tried to read a few biographies of great scientists through the ages. I find it very humbling because so much of it is extremely hard to understand. I persevere because what I do manage to wrap my head around is fascinating. So much of it also matches what the Bible said 2000+ years ago. I find that very exciting.

A book called, What the Bleep do we Know? outlines the old paradigm people have been taught for centuries. Here is my paraphrase. The universe is a mechanical system composed of solid material and elementary building blocks. What we call 'real' must be measurable and also needs to be perceived with our five senses and any mechanical extensions thereof. It assumes that the only valid approach to gaining knowledge is to banish all feelings and subjectivity to become entirely rational and objective. Matter is solid with tiny particles at its core which move according to laws of nature and forces which can be explained with mathematical precision. This enables us to make predictions with certainty. So this is how we've been taught to view the world we've been brought up in.

That old familiar paradigm brushes off subjects I've always been interested in, such as emotions, prayer, mental healing, extra-sensory perception, words of knowledge and prophecy. And as I said, I'm finding some of it hard to wrap my head around, but what I am grasping is amazing. I decided I have to put up with the feeling of being limited and ignorant in my brain power, because it's worth it for those moments I can say, "Wow!" at those things I do get.

Perhaps clever people don't always get it all anyway. I remember reading in the Bible how Paul, the Apostle, went to visit Athens. He tried to convince those intellectual city folk to listen to his message about Jesus, who they might have already worshiped as their 'Unknown God' (Acts 17:22-27). The place was full of Epicurean and Stoic philosophers who liked to spend most of their time doing nothing but talking about and listening to the latest ideas (verse 21). Smart, educated people. According to the record, not much happened in Athens after his address. There is no evidence that a Christian church was ever started there. There is certainly no 'Letter to the Athenians' included in the Bible. We can only assume that Paul just added fire to the philosophical and intellectual debate that was always sizzling away over there in ancient times. It seems even Paul couldn't impress the intellectual elite of ancient Athens.

I appreciated the following quote by Dr Cindy Trimm. "There are many scholars who never do anything but debate the finer points of theology and religious thought and there are simple saints who don't know a hundredth of what those people know, but they act on it and miracles happen around them regularly."

So I plug on trying to learn as much of this stuff as I can for my own interest, even though I know before I open the covers that my limited brain won't take it all in. The fact is, not only does my lack of intelligence not matter but it may even be a good thing. Ironically enough, this is one of the great surprises I'm talking about.

 I also try to weave all that I manage to understand into my stories. My theory is that as my brain power is limited, I automatically word it all into concepts that others like me can understand. I can't make it too difficult to comprehend because my brain is not that smart. People like me, after all, make up a far greater portion of the population than the occasional stunning genius who can easily grasp all that intelligent stuff. I'm quite pleased with the novel I'm working on, Along for the Ride. I think I've grappled with some interesting scientific and psychological insights, as I also attempted to do in Best Forgotten. I like to think that if someone like me managed to put it together into words, then others like me may also catch the excitement and vision that I'm getting when I read these heavy books I can't quite understand.