Optimistic Voices

Like almost every child who grew up in the 1960s and 70s, I never missed the opportunity to watch The Wizard of Oz on TV. It was shown annually for almost three decades.

As a result, the movie is a part of who I am in a way no other movie ever has been or likely ever will be. The structure of the film (three acts, with a disturbance and two doorways of no return) and the model character arc observed in Dorothy (moving from discontentment to contentment) have affected my life as a storyteller.

So, I’m watching the film the other day and feel a holy nudge. It seems I still have something to learn from The Wizard of Oz.

My witch=the pitch
I am terrified by the idea of pitching my novel to an editor or agent—“I’ll get you my pretty, and your little book, too!” I suspect one of the main differences between published and unpublished authors is that those who are published have overcome the fear.

But, as Dorothy and gang finally approach the Emerald City—the seeming culmination of her quest—they are greeted by a chorus of “Optimistic Voices.”

You're out of the woods
You're out of the dark
You're out of the night
Step into the sun, step into the light

All of this merrymaking is going on and I’m thinking about my pitch. I do not feel "out of the woods." But after the movie was over, I piece together a few thoughts.

Dorothy had her friends’ help
Dorothy wouldn’t have arrived in the Emerald City without her friends. They protected her and gave her the courage to ease on down, ease on down, down her road. I wouldn’t be where I am today without my friends and critique partners who did the same for me.

Dorothy faced risks—and overcame them
Dorothy didn’t arrive in the Emerald City without surviving a few hazards.

• She lived through a tornado. (My life has certainly swirled around me lately, as we settle, somewhat bumpily, into a new location.)


• Sour apple trees threw fruit at her. (I’ve eaten my share of sour grapes.)


• Someone (Cowardly Lion) who at first seemed an enemy became a friend . (Don’t get me started.)


• Exhaustion nearly did her in until another friend (Glinda) helped her become clear-headed again. (I credit the Holy Spirit with my current clear mind regarding my writing.)

Dorothy’s end goal wasn’t the Emerald City
Though it was a grand entry, Dorothy didn’t find what she was looking for—the way home—in the city. Instead, she was forced to face, and conquer, the Wicked Witch.

And here we are, back at the nut of the problem. Facing one’s fears.

Like Dorothy, I’m finding that my experiences, though tough and at times frightening, have taught me that I do have resources within me I’ve yet to tap--and I don't need ruby slippers to access them. Oh, I may run between the turrets yet, but when I can no longer run I’ll find the gumption to douse the witch.

Before the flying monkeys come to haul me off to face my fear, I’m going to listen to those optimistic voices of my friends and family once more--and I'm going to redouble my efforts to make my pitch the best it can be.

Hold onto your breath
Hold onto your heart
Hold onto your hope
March up to the gate
And bid it open.
Open!

Need help with your pitch? Come to the Writing for the Soul Conference in February and sign up for an appointment with creativity specialist, C. McNair Wilson. Registrations are open.

Michael Ehret is the Editor-in-Chief for the Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild. He has written for newspapers and other print and online outlets. He edited several nonfiction books, was the senior editor for a faith-based financial services and insurance organization, and is the ezine editor for American Christian Fiction Writers.

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Pay No Attention to that Humbug Behind the Keyboard! by guest blogger Marcia Gruver

Marcia Gruver’s Southern-comfortable roots lend touches of humor and threads of unshakable faith to her writing. Look for both in her three-book series, Texas Fortunes, and in her Backwoods Brides collection: Raider’s Heart (Feb 2011), Bandit’s Hope (Oct 2011), and Hunter’s Prize (Spring, 2012). Lifelong Texans, Marcia and her husband Lee have five children. Collectively, this motley crew has graced them with a dozen grandchildren and one great-granddaughter—so far.

Pay No Attention to that Humbug Behind the Keyboard!

One of my favorite scenes from the Wizard of Oz shows Dorothy and her troupe approaching the Wizard, trembling in awe, their little knees rattling. Dorothy summons the courage to make the charge, “If you were really great and powerful, you’d keep your promises.”

Smarter than the rest, Toto draws back the curtain of “the Great and Powerful Oz” to reveal a little charlatan frantically grinding gears and banging gongs in a desperate attempt to maintain his false persona.

Busted for a fake, he cries, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!”
He admits to being the wizard and Dorothy gasps, “You are? I don’t believe you.”
“I’m afraid it’s true,” he says. “There’s no other wizard except me.”
Indignant, the Scarecrow shouts, “You humbug!”
To which the man is forced to admit, “Yes, exactly so.”

We’re supposed to feel sorry for Dorothy and her band of needy friends, but my sympathies lie with the fraud. Bent over my keyboard in fuzzy robe and slippers, adjusting my intravenous caffeine drip so my eyes will focus, I glance at my puttied and plastered cover shot (every hair in place) and think, You humbug! To which the bedraggled mess that I am can only sigh and confess, “Exactly so.”

I quiver in anticipation of the charge, “If you were really great and powerful, you’d be witty, charming, perfect, and pretty. You’d find a balance between home and family, church and community, conference and critique group, first draft and final edit—all within the confines of your latest looming deadline. Not to mention getting Dorothy safely home to Kansas.

Writers tend to be high achievers, and that’s okay. It gets the job done. But we must give ourselves permission to be human. I have a wonderful support system in place, but I had to learn to prioritize. Sometimes that means saying no. Moreover, when the load gets too heavy, I’ve learned to ask for help.

Most importantly, when I get the chance to have a robe and slippers day, I go for it with full abandon and without apology. . .plenty of chocolate within reach. On occasion, it’s good for the soul.

Besides, if the reader desires a true glimpse of their favorite writer, they need look no farther than the parts of the book that stir the heart. Those cherished lines may have been penned by a frightening distortion of who you perceive the author to be, but chances are they came from a beautiful place.

A bit of a humbug? I’m afraid it’s true. There’s no other wizard writer except me.

Raider's Heart

A Silly Little Lamp has turned Dawsey Wilkes's life upside down.

Hooper and Duncan McRae grew up hearing their father's tales of the little golden lamp that eluded his possession. Hooper, always the daring brother, seizes a once-in-a-lifetime chance when passing the Wilkes house to get a peek at the legendary lamp. But simple curiosity could open a Pandora's box of trouble for the McRaes.

Whisked from her opulent home in the middle of the night, Dawsey Wilkes wakes up deep in the Carolina swamps, the prisoner of a rowdy family who support the infamous Henry Berry Lowry, a vigilante intent on bringing justice to the poor.

Wooed by the competitive McRae brothers and shunned by their sister Ellie, Dawsey remains intent on getting back home to her ailing father. But has it been God's plan all along to unite these two very different families?

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