The Adventure of a Lifetime!!!!

 As of last week, I have a publisher!!!!!

     Depending on what you know about the publishing industry, you probably are either really excited for me, or you're not sure what the big deal is. I mean haven't I already been published? The answer is yes, I've been self-published, but no, I've never been traditionally published.

     This is a huge adventure in my writing life, and a miracle from God. Thank you to everyone who's been praying for me as I was going through the writing and submitting the manuscript process. I want to ask that you continue to pray for me while I work with my publisher. Specifically, I would like you to pray for two things. 1. That I'll grow through this experience and become more like Jesus through it all. 2. That I'll be a blessing to my publisher and the whole team there at the publishing house.

      As some of you know, I submitted my manuscript, Never Leave Me, to a few publishing houses back when I first completed that book. In return, I got some nice rejection letters to start my collection. Since then, I've pretty much been content with self-publishing. However, when I started writing Mission of a Lifetime, I felt like God wanted me to do something more with this one. I decided to submit it to some publishers, but I honestly didn't expect to get anything besides rejection letters. God moves in mysterious ways and He is the one who worked in this situation and allowed my manuscript to be accepted by Ambassador International Publishing House!

   Thank you again to all who prayed for me! Please continue to pray for me as God leads me on an adventure of a lifetime.

Here I am signing my contract!!!!

Until next time, this is Priscilla J. Krahn reminding you to stay thankful in EVERYTHING and for EVERYTHING!!!!!

You Know You're a Writer When...

  So here's a random list of 'you know you're a writer when' quotes that I've collected over the years... Some of them aren't true for everyone, but I hope they give you a good laugh. :)

     You Know You're a Writer When...

           1. You turn to your sister in a store with a gasp and say... "That man who just walked past... he looks exactly like my villian!"

           

           2. When you have at least twelve notebooks full of nothing but ideas and plot bunnies...

           3. When you know what a plot bunny is.:)

           4. When you drive your family crazy with a word count on every page.

           5. When you make up personalities and histories for people you see at the grocery store.

           6. When you flinch after hearing someone use an unnecessary adverb, but then relax because you realize it is just dialogue and therefore acceptable.

           7. When your Christmas/Birthday list consists of notebooks, pens, bookshelves, pencils, and sticky notes.

           8. When people ask you why you're acting weird and you just smile and say, "I'm acting out a scene in my next story."

           9. When you wake up in the middle of the night and have to get up to write down your latest story idea before you forget it.

          10. When you have dreams in which you're the hero.

          11. When you research weird, off-the-wall stuff. (Like how far can you go with a collapsed lung.)

          12. When you talk about your characters as if they were real people.

          13. When your mom tells you to write a paper on the French Revolution and you hand in an eleven page story from a fashion-obsessed-French-girl's point of view who manages to explain  the politics with her ever-changing wardrobe.

          14. When you get excited about someone editing your book and returning it covered in red ink.

          15. When you walk by someone's porch and think... 'That would be a good place for a fight...'

          16. When you spend more time pouring over baby name books, than most parents ever do.

          17. You're to busy writing to stop for supper.

          18. When you want to break a window with a specific flashlight, just to see if it would work in your next book.

          19. When you threaten to put annoying people in your next book as the villain.

          20. When you read the above sentences and nod your head saying "Yep...yep...yep."

Mission of a Lifetime Update!

 So people have been asking me how Mission of a Lifetime is coming along and, honestly, the answer varies from day to day. At this point, I've completed the majority of my editing, and am basically ready to publish. If I wanted, I could probably self-publish next week.

     "Then WHY isn't the book out yet?!?!?!?!"

    Now that's a little bit more complicated. You see, a few weeks ago, I submitted my manuscript to a book novel contest and I won't get the results back from that contest for at least another month. I'm going to wait to publish until AFTER I've heard back from that contest. The reason? Because if by some crazy chance I were to place in that competition, I would get some editing help from the people in charge of the competition and to me that would be a huge help! Although my chances of placing in this competition are small, I would appreciate prayer that the Lord's will would be done and that I would learn through this experience.
    
    The second reason I'm not self-publishing yet, is because I've sent off my manuscript to a few select publishers. Now the chances of me actually getting published are smaller than the chances of me winning the contest, but I would like to get my rejection letters back before I self-publish.

     I guess in closing, I'll leave you with another excerpt from Mission of a Lifetime.

   

. . .After checking in with the secretary he paced the waiting room. When he felt sure that an hour had gone by he glanced at the receptionist’s desk. “Is he ready yet?” Willie adjusted his tie with a trembling hand and studied the secretary.

Miss Fran didn’t even look up from her computer screen. “The answer hasn’t changed. No.” Her fingers clacked away in rhythm but it wasn’t having a calming effect on Willie.

He ran a sweaty hand over his hair. The cowlick on the front of his black hair wouldn’t stay down, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Pacing the small waiting room he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Would you sit down?” Miss Fran asked gesturing towards a chair by the window. “You won’t hurry him by pacing.”

 Willie strolled towards the lone chair and sat down. Running his hands over his knees he took a deep breath. He glanced over his shoulder and his stomach flipped. He stood to his feet and walked across the room. These high buildings sure didn’t have the kind of view he liked. In fact, nothing in the city had the view he liked.

Miss Fran’s chair creaked as she leaned back and drummed the tips of her fingers together. “What is your business with Mr. Adams? He doesn’t want to see you any more than you want to see him. What’s it been? Two years since you were here last?”

 Willie frowned. “I’ll discuss my business with him personally if you don’t mind.”

“I’m just glad I’m not in your shoes. He’s having a bad day,” Miss Fran continued.

“What a surprise,” Willie muttered.

The phone beeped and Miss Fran picked it up. “Yes, Mr. Adams?”

There was a pause then Miss Fran nodded. “I’ll tell him.” Miss Fran set the phone down and turned back to Willie. “He’ll see you now, but he said to warn you, he’s not giving out charity.”

Willie took a deep breath and entered the office.

Mr. Adams sat behind his oak desk with a stone like expression. “Have a seat.”

Willie sat down and cracked his knuckles.

Mr. Adams wrinkled his nose. “You better have a good reason for taking my time like this.”

Willie frowned. “It’s about my parents.”

Mr. Adams face showed no sympathy. “I was very sorry to hear about your parents but if you’re anything like them, you aren’t here to get my sympathy. What’s the bottom line?”

Willie felt the heat rising in his cheeks. Am I crazy? He wondered. Shaking his head Willie leaned forward. It was in God’s hands, what did he have to worry about?

“I want an airplane.”

Mr. Adams leaned back with wide eyes. “And you want me to give you a good deal on one?”

“No, Sir.” Willie paused. Wiping his sweaty hands on his pant legs he took a deep breath. “I want you to give me an airplane. I would probably only need it for a few weeks, but it would be a rough few weeks for the plane.”

Mr. Adams coughed a bit. “Are you feeling alright? Do you have any idea how much that would cost?”

“Yes, Sir, that’s why I’m asking you. I know you can afford it, and I know if Dad were here, he would have asked you.”

“William, you’re crazy. This is not a charity organization. You’re probably not even responsible enough to own a plane. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one years old, and I have a pilot’s license.” Willie straightened his shoulders. “You know I’m good with engines.”

Mr. Adams lowered his eyebrows. “You’re planning on going after them aren’t you?” He leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what kind of a risk you would be taking? Your parents don’t want you risking your life like that. Besides, I’m sure they’re long dead.”

“I would rather die in the attempt to save them, than stay here, perfectly safe, and not knowing what happened to them. As soon as you give me a plane, I’m going to go find them.”. . .

A Quick Tip for Aspiring Writers

   Okay, so what I'm about to share is something that I've found really helpful and I hope you find it helpful as well.

     "DESCRIBE THINGS!"   "PAINT A PICTURE IN YOUR READERS HEAD!"

    Ever heard people say things like the above two statements? Well, there's a lot of truth to both of those statements, but the trick, is using them correctly. When I started writing, I wanted to describe things without much effort, so I did what most beginning writers do. I described the things that were easy to describe. For example, I described things like grass as green, cars as fast, and cake as sweet. The problem with this is that your reader already knows that grass is green. So the tip I'm giving you, is to learn to chose what you describe carefully. Don't describe the cake as sweet because everyone knows cake is sweet. Unless the cake is bitter, or salty, or something that's not normal, don't bother describing it. Don't tell the reader the grass is green, we already know that. Of course if the grass is purple, then you should describe it.
     So as beginning writers, we tend to describe things that don't need describing, and then we don't describe things that should be described. We might say something like... "The man standing on the green grass was getting mad." To become a better writer, we need to learn to drop the 'green grass' statements, and learn to describe other things. So the man on the lawn was mad... How was he mad? Was he clenching his jaw? Was he turning red? Was he simply getting quiet? Or was he flying into a rage, yelling and swinging a golf club at everything in sight?
         In summary, don't describe things the reader knows, describe things they don't know. I hope this was helpful!
    Until next time, this is Priscilla J. Krahn reminding you to stay thankful!:)

Book review of Ned Franks

  A few years ago, one of my sisters told me I needed to read the 'Ned Franks' series by A.L.O.E. but I thought they looked boring. I did eventually pick up the first one and before I was done with the first chapter, I was challenged by this one armed sailor and was ready to admit that I was wrong and it was a great book! I read the trilogy and think everyone else should read them as well.

  Ned Franks is one of those characters that you can't help but like. He's a true gentleman who loves everything that is right and good. After losing his arm and being forced to leave his life as a sailor, Ned Franks tries to make the best of his new and challenging life. The books follow through the ups and downs of his life and you can't help but be challenged to draw closer to God when you see Ned Franks steadfast faith. I think book two was probably the one that convicted me the most as it talks about 'Sheering off from the shoals of sin' and not letting little sins drag you towards bigger ones but steering clear of them all. Book three deals with the power of a good name, and doing the right thing even when others don't seem to care if you do.

   So yes, I highly recommend the series! They're entertaining, challenging, and suspenseful. Until next time, this is Priscilla J. Krahn reminding you to stay thankful!

Corn Maze Season!

Yep, it's that time of year again for my family! If you're not familiar with our corn maze, you can check out our website here.

   For those of you who do know about our maze, you know that there's a lot of work that goes into it, so if you think of it over the next several weeks, we could really use your prayer. You can pray that we'll all stay healthy during the season, and that we'll all get enough sleep, and that God will be glorified in everything we do.

      On another note, I just entered my most recent book into a contest. I know I probably don't have a chance in the world at actually placing, but you can pray that I'll learn whatever God wants me to learn through it.  

    Have a great day, and stay strong in the Lord!!

A Deleted Scene

        When I'm writing, sometimes I writes scenes that don't flow right, or just don't fit with the story so I have to cut them. The following scene was deleted from Never Forget because it just didn't seem to fit right. I hope you enjoy it!


     That evening, Paul needed to go to town and buy some things for the farm, and I decided to go with him. I didn’t think I could stand another minute of just sitting in the house. I couldn’t figure out what God was doing. Did He expect me to wait for the rest of my life for things to get better?

My leg hurt after the long day, so I grabbed my other crutch, and followed Paul to Dad’s truck.

Paul was totally quiet as we drove to town, and I felt glad. I didn’t want to talk either.

Rifton is five miles south of the Canadian border, and almost five miles south of us. Our farm was practically on the border, and several times Dad had pointed the line out to me so that I wouldn’t accidentally wander across illegally.

I enjoyed sitting and looking into Canada but sometimes, like today, I wished we could just move to Canada and start over. Things had gone from bad to worse and I was losing heart. I had been waiting on God for weeks and nothing had happened.

I followed Paul around the store as he looked for the best deals and stood patiently as he added things up in his head.

“Nice crutches!” a crude voice said. “They’re just perfect for a cripple like you.”

I turned around and found myself face to face with a guy not much older than myself. Although I could tell he wasn’t very old, he was stocky and didn’t look like he avoided fights. He also didn’t look like he lost many fights.

I turned back to the shelf expecting him to walk away. Instead he reached out and pulled my hair.

“Oww!” I spun around as fast as I could on my crutches.

“What ya gonna do, huh? Your daddy’s in jail, he can’t rescue you.”

Paul calmly stepped in front of me. “Leave,” he said simply.

“Well, if it isn’t the mute boy actually talking. I hear you don’t talk cause you got a stttttuuutttterrrrrrr,” the boy mocked. “And isn’t your sister the girl with that creepy white hair?”

Paul simply grabbed my arm and started walking away.

“What are you chicken or something?” he yelled after us.

I stopped and turned to face him. “Stop it!” I said.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet, you’re trying to protect your brother.”

“My brother can protect himself,” I said firmly, “but he doesn’t pick fights with losers like you.”

“Amy,” Paul’s voice came firm and low. “That’s enough.”

The boy stuck his tongue out at me and I started to pull my crutch up to hit him but Paul pulled me back. “Let’s go.”

The boy yelled insulting comments after us but Paul didn’t stop. He walked straight for the cashier counter, purchased his items, and we went back to the truck.

“Why didn’t you fight him?” I asked. “If I were a boy I would have punched his lights out.” I bit my lip the moment I said it. It sounded like something Sylvia would say and I regretted sounding so harsh.

“It wasn’t a fight worth fighting,” Paul said.

I stared at Paul. “Doesn’t it make you mad when people make fun of you?”

Paul nodded. “Sometimes, but it’s not worth fighting over.”

Paul droveodded. "

e. You see.is every day. "er."aul. "rom the dumpster.east he wouldn'ering bread and drove away. I was releaved th north and headed home.

“How do you stay so calm?” I asked. “You’re always calm!”

 We were halfway home before Paul spoke. “Amy, I used to get mad when people made fun of my stutter, but then I realized that they just didn’t understand. It’s not my job to force people to understand. It’s my job to love people. It’s my job to be like Jesus. It’s my job to turn the other cheek.”

Like normal, Paul only said what he felt he had to and then he lapsed back into silence.

“Paul?” I paused and chewed on my bottom lip. “What exactly is worth fighting for? You said it wasn’t a fight worth fighting but what kinds of fights are worth fighting?”

Paul stared across the fields that rolled by. Finally he spoke. “The only fights worth fighting are the fights of faith.”

I frowned. “Like what?”

“Like when you believe in something. It’s always worth fighting for the things you believe in.”

Paul was silent again, and I sat thinking. Was I fighting any fights of faith? What did I believe in?

God's Protection - a short story

 I wrote this story for a competition a few years ago and thought you all might enjoy it.

  GOD’S PROTECTION

The thundering of the guns and the smell of gunpowder surrounded the mission. Upstairs, a window shattered. The guerillas were not going to give up.

I knelt by Mom’s prone figure and felt her feverish forehead. “Dad, Mom’s completely unconscious,” I whispered.

“I know, Jean.” In spite of the gunfire, Dad’s voice was steady. “All we can do is pray. If Tyson doesn’t make it…”

Dad didn’t have to finish. I knew as well as he did that if Tyson didn’t make it with the medicine, Mom would die.

Dad squeezed Mom’s hand, and wiped a tear from his eye. There was nothing we could do but wait, and pray. It was certain death if we left, but would we be any safer if we stayed?

“Pastor Jeff!” A native rushed in.

“Yes, Uwa?” Dad asked glancing up.

“I sorry, Pastor,” he said in his broken English.

“What is it?” Dad asked. His brow was furrowed and his full attention was on Uwa.

“Tyson no make it.”

As Uwa’s words sunk in, I bit my lip and looked away fighting the tears. Not only was my brother Tyson gone, the chopper he had been flying was our last chance of rescue.

Dad lowered his head, and tried to suppress his emotions. “God is still in control,” he whispered. “Thank you for telling me.”

“That not all.” Uwa looked down. “The villagers no fight the guerrillas much longer. You must leave Pastor. If they find you, they kill us all, but if you leave, they no hurt us.”

I met Dad’s gaze. Uwa was right. The guerillas had opposed our missionary work from day one. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill, but if we were gone, they would have no reason to harm anyone else.

“We can’t leave,” Dad protested. “God has been doing so much here.” He gestured helplessly with his hands.

“Pastor,” Uwa said. “We want you stay live. Leave Africa, and help others, come back when it safe.”

“My wife is very ill, and I won’t leave my son.”

“You can’t help Tyson no more. Take wife to Gaut, good doctor there,” Uwa said. “You take motor bike. It only have room for you and the missus. Jean have to stay.”

Dad met my gaze, and then glanced at Mom. It was risky, but we would probably all be killed anyway.

Dad clasped Uwa’s hand. “Take care of Jean.”

Uwa nodded and then left to get the motor bike ready.

“Jean, you know I don’t want to leave you. You’re only seventeen, and… well, there’s just no other way.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I understand. Just get Mom to a doctor, and don’t worry about me. God will take care of me.” Tears welled up in my eyes. What if Mom didn’t make it?

“I’m so proud of you for being willing to risk your life for your faith, but it’s hard for me as a dad to let you go.”

“Dad, Jesus died for me. How can I not be willing to give my life for Him?”

Dad nodded, and then bowed his head. “Dear God, please take care of Jean, and Lord, please help me get my wife to safety. Amen.” Dad looked up with determination. “If you make it out alive, go to the mission at Gaut. If God wills it, we’ll be there. And, Jean…” he paused. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Dad hugged me, and I couldn’t stop the tears. Dad let me go, and gently picked up Mom. His loving gaze met mine one last Tysone before he turned and left.

I leaned back against the wall and slid to the ground. I couldn’t stop the flowing tears. “Thank you God for providing a way for Mom and Dad. Lord, please keep them safe.” I prayed silently. “Please hide them from the guerillas.”

My silent prayers were interrupted by the back door being flung open. I knew that the village’s defense must have fallen, and that the guerillas were there to kill me. I said a quick prayer for strength, and then stood to my feet.

Turning to face them, I expected to be met by men in camo with rifles pointed at me. Instead, a young man, in a collared shirt stood there. His left sleeve was blood stained, and his short sandy hair clung to his sweaty forehead.

“Tyson!” I blinked, could it really be him? “I thought you were dead!”

Blood dripped from the fingers on his left hand. “I landed the chopper, and was surrounded by the guerrillas. They wanted to keep me alive to fly the chopper for them, but in the cross fire, I was hit. They left me for dead. Where’s Dad and Mom?” Tyson glanced around the room.

“Dad just left with Mom,” I said. “He’s taking her to Gaut.”

Tyson nodded. “Then let’s find Uwa and hide.” As he finished talking, he wavered a bit and his face seemed awful pale.

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked, reaching out to steady him.

“It’s not serious, it just bled a lot.”

Tyson and I found Uwa, and went to the hidden cellar, where Uwa wrapped Tyson’s arm.

“I go now. See if it safe.” Uwa left, and came back moments later. “They all gone.”

“Did they follow Mom and Dad?” Tyson asked leaning forward.

Uwa shook his head. “They go the other way. God protected you!”

“Praise God!” Tyson said leaning back. Tyson got to his knees, and prayed aloud. “Thank you God for your protection. Your miraculous protection.”

Within a week’s Tysone, Tyson and I were safely at the mission in Gaut. We didn’t know what God’s plan was for us, but with Mom getting better, we knew we would soon be going back. Yes, we were scared, but we were learning to trust God, and with Him on our side, we had nothing to worry about.

THE END

Blueberries and Bible Truths

This time of year the forest is beautiful! There's wild raspberries, wild strawberries, wild june berries, and wild blueberries everywhere!

 We've only been able to get out blueberry picking twice because of our crazy schedule, but we've been able to get several gallons. I think it's amazing how God put all of those good things out there for anyone to have.

The forest has more good berries than you can image and they're all free for the taking. Of course if you stay at home, you'll never get to experience the joy of fresh blueberries right off the plant. This illustrates two things in my mind. First, the berries can seem far away and hard to get, but once you're actually in the forest, they're everywhere! I find that it's often the same in our daily devotions. Sometimes it seems really hard to take the time to read the Bible, but once you start reading, there's wisdom and encouragement everywhere!  Second, the berries are ripe and good, but in a few short weeks, they rot/die and fall of the plants if no one picks them. The world is like the forest and the lost people of the world are like the blueberries, they're everywhere, and if we don't go and pick them, (i.e. share the gospel with them,) they will die and fall into Hell. So go share the gospel with someone!

This week, I'm going to be helping at our county fair where our church has a booth to share the gospel. I would really appreciate prayer for those of us who are going to be helping. We normally get several hundred people through and are able to share the gospel and give tracts to hundreds of kids, parents, and grandparents. So please pray for the hearts of the people we're sharing with to be "ripe" and ready to believe. Also pray for safety for everyone involved. I know Satan hates it when the gospel is preached and he isn't going to sit by watching while we work.

"I cannot share the gospel with everyone, but everyone can share the gospel with someone." - varied quote from Ronald Regan

"Why wait for a call to missions when you have a command?" - Bob Hughes

Rodeo

  Earlier this month, I had the opportunity to attend a rodeo! I had never been to one before and I really enjoyed it. I didn't get many pictures, and most of them were blurry, (that's what happens when I use my phone) but here's a few.

I really appreciated how they took time to pray and acknowledge God. It's rare these days to hear people honor God in public like that.

I didn't actually get to stay for the entire thing because it was getting late, but I really enjoyed the events that I did get to see. There was some trick riding, and fancy roping and everything else that you would expect at a rodeo. I really enjoyed it and hope to go back next year! Thank you to those people who came with me and made it so special:)