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Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri

Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary

Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net

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Recent Posts

• Try
• Becoming Brenda Starr
• Off Beat
• Scattered
• That’s It
• So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
• The Spoon
• Sciatica
• Sweetheart
• A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
• However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
• After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
• As with everything in life, balance is key.
• Slow down, you move too fast…
• Yeah, I know. I have issues.

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E me at katy @ ngenius.com

Planes, Trains and Automobiles (#155)

"The home is not the one tame place in a world of adventure; it is the one wild place in a world of rules and set tasks."

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I try not to attach too many expectations to holidays, because honestly we've reached a stage in our lives when things--and people--are in constant flux.

Carrie decided she couldn't justify spending four hours on the road today for a two-hour Easter brunch at her Aunt Mary's, and I understood. Really, I did. It's just that I haven't spent a single Easter in twenty-three years apart from her, that's all.

Scott and Brooke attended their own church this morning, and I knew I would see them afterwards, but it still felt a little lonely. Kev stood with me during worship, though, and I always look forward to singing beside my grown-man-of-a-son. And Doug--after he finished playing guitar and Irish whistles with the band--would be joining us for the message.

I sat on the aisle seat with Kevin next to me, and my purse served to save a third seat for Doug. I should have known that today, though, would be standing room only, and that sooner or later the pastor would say those fateful words that wreak panic in the heart of all anxiety-ridden aisle-sitters like me: "If everyone on the aisles would please move to the middle to make room for our visitors, that would be great."

(What's wrong with this announcement? Don't pastors know--after any time at all counseling folks--that there's a reason why certain members arrive so punctually every week and sit in the aisle seats? Hello!)

Kevin scooted down and I followed obediently, my knees already shaking a bit. "Hey, Mom," he whispered, "did you bring a lunch bag with you?" He knows about my pesky predilection for hyperventilation when I'm feeling closed in, and winked as he gently teased me.

Keep breathing, Katy. Just keep breathing.

A family of four blocked me in, a family I'd never seen before, and you'll never believe who sat down right next to me. Steve Martin! He flashed his pearly whites at me and his eyes twinkled with either amusement or apprehension--sometimes with Steve it's hard to tell. His white hair gleamed even more attractively than it does in the movies, set off handsomely by his navy blue blazer and tan dress pants.

Immediately, the source of my anxiety shifted from being sausaged into a long row of people with no inconspicuous escape route to being very concerned about what exactly Steve Martin would think of our church.

Doug came to sit with us and I explained to him (within earshot of the visitors) that I'd given up his seat for Steve (who for some strange reason introduced himself to us as "Mike"), his glamorous blonde wife, and the kids. Doug said, "Oh, don't worry, I need to be available for the songs at the end of the service anyway. Don't worry at all."

So he left me there alone with Kevin on one side (laughing at me) and Steve on the other, who knew darned good and well that I didn't for one minute believe he was some guy named Mike.

I started thinking about planes, trains, and automobiles. And how Steve Martin wanted nothing more and nothing else than to make his way home for the holiday. He found himself here, at our church, a bit bewildered perhaps, but here--with the family he loved and some crazy chick who probably imagines he's someone he's not.

Did he start to wonder if all churches are alike? And if even God Almighty might have him confused with someone else?

I spent an entire Easter service wondering if I was just another John Candy, just another character thrown in this man's path to prevent him from truly, finally arriving at the home he missed, the home he'd nearly forgotten.

Or if somehow I'd find the grace to see past his movie-star looks and welcome him--whoever he was--to his Father's house.

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Authors! (#156)

I have SO never live-blogged an event before, and technically I guess I'm still not going to, since live-blogging is really more like instant messaging than I'm used to, but here goes!

Some of the most wonderful authors in Christian fiction today are gathered here at the Grand Opening of the new Christian Book and Gift Store in Olathe, Kansas. Who knew they'd have wifi? Since they do, by golly, I'm going to take advantage of it.

Doug's snapping some pics while I'm getting to meet a couple of ladies I've emailed with for some months now.

My good buddy Nancy Moser has just introduced me to Collen Coble, Deb Raney, and Rene Gutteridge. Fun ladies, one and all! The store is also hosting Stephanie Grace Whitson, Judith Miller and Cheryl Hodde, the female partner of the husband/wife writing team who go by the pen name "Hannah Alexander." I am new to the fiction of these last three authors, but not for long.

I must say the women are creating a pretty good buzz here today, and that being a part of it is exciting and inspiring.

Let's see how they respond to an impromptu interview:


Nancy, I understand you have a new release called "A Place to Belong." Is it a stand-alone book or part of a series?

It's the fourth--and last--book in the Sister Circle series I co-authored with Vonette Bright. It wraps up all the stories started in the other books--quite a feat as each book added characters! And truthfully, I will miss the "sisters". We've become very close. :o)

Deb, didn't I just hear today that you are a finalist for a RITA award for "A Nest of Sparrows"? Congratulations! Will you be able to go to the award ceremony?

Yes, I am, Katy, and I'm thrilled. So many of my wonderful author friends have won the RITA in the past and that has made it such an honor. I hope to be able to go, but unfortunately there are several conferences during that time and SOMETIME I have to finish a book!!

Colleen, you were a finalist for last year's RITA awards! Did you get to go to the RWA (Romance Writers of America) ceremony, and how great was that?

It was like being at the Oscars! Totally amazing. They had my cover up on a huge screen, I was dressed in a formal dress and had my handsome husband beside me in a Tux. My kids came as well. It was something I'll never forget. I felt really special for that night and it was an exciting time to share with my agent, Karen Solem, and my editor, Ami McConnell, as well. It was glitzy and fabulous.

Cheryl, I know you represent half of the Hannah Alexander writing team and that you're part of a writers group called Chi Libris. Can you tell me what the members of your group accomplish when they meet?

Oh, wow, What we accomplish! We connect as family. There's a synergy that happens when we're together. You may not believe this, but writers are a weird bunch, and so many people misunderstand us. That particular creative story process is always a part of us, and it spills out into our "normal" lives. With ChiLibris, we understand. We support. We love and encourage. It's not about professional connections or self-promoting. It's about that much needed connection that happens whenever we're together.

Rene, you do comedy and suspense novels, right? So, are your comedy books suspenseful and your suspense books funny? Do you really have a split personality, or what? And are your readers mostly female or male?

I always tell people who are interested in writing to incorporate both! My comedy has suspense and my suspense has quite a bit of humor. I think the comedy helps develop the character and the suspense always makes the plot stronger. But I have been accused of having a split personality, too!! (Mostly from my husband.) On the third question, my readers tend to be almost equally split. I have been amazed at how many men read my Boo Series! And of course I have both men and women who read the suspense series.

Stephanie, why should a serious minded Christian bother reading fiction? Don't we get everything we need from the Bible and works of non-fiction? What's the big deal with story anyway?

Story can penetrate the heart and mind a way that "just the facts" cannot. I think it's probably common for everyone to have that gap between what they know to be true and what they live out, regardless of their belief system. Story has a way of getting past my intellectual "no" and impacting my emotion -- and, therefore, story can have a unique ability to shape my own life. In the Old Testament, when a prophet challenged King David about his personal sin, he didn't do it in a judmental way at all. He didn't point the finger. He simply told David a story. David was outraged by the behavior described in the story. . . and when he realized he was guilty of the same kind of behavior, he was driven to repentance. The prophet used a story. I think that kind of power is trans-generational and trans-cultural. All cultures have their own stories, and their power to change lives is a wonderful thing. I know people who could never tell a friend how to fix a problem with Bible in hand and a doctrinal thesis. But they can share a novel on the subject with that same friend and impact their heart and mind for good. Fiction can have a ministry in the lives of people who would never listen to a sermon, never attend a Bible study.
Of course good fiction should ideally point the reader TO the uultimate source for life -- which is God's Word.

Judy, you've been co-authoring novels with Tracie Peterson for three years now. How in the world do you ladies make that work? Don't you have to have compatible styles and rhythms? I just don't get it!

Actually, you're correct in that co-authors need to have compatible styles and also beliefs in their project. Tracie and I get together to plan a detailed synopsis and then I write the first draft. After the draft has been completed, I e-mail it to her for her input and suggestions. Then she e-mails the updated version to me for my input. Once we've agreed on the finished product, it's sent to the publisher. We are both historical writers, but one person generally needs to be responsible for the primary research and detail. That is generally the person who will write the first draft. I have heard of instances where authors will write chapter by chapter. However, Tracie and I have found this method works best for us. It has been a truly enjoyable experience. However, we both write indepently also.


There you have it, you fiction lovers, you! Many thanks to all the lovely authors who took part in today's book-signing and live-blogging event. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance!

View pics >

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Ageless Faith (#157)

The man in the coffee house in Ottawa, Kansas, strummed the first few chords of the song and suddenly I was thirty years younger. And, as hard as it sounds to believe, all night I viewed the singer, his wife Anny, and Doug through a long-ago lense still miraculously unsmudged with age-defying wrinkle goop or hormone-replacement cream.

The four of us, in fact, were the very picture of youth.

He said if anyone in his audience of mostly teenagers knew the words, to sing along. Doug sat next to me and--never a great one for remembering even the words to songs he's written--tried to keep up. I sang my heart out, in almost perfect harmony.

Even Marc Haney, our dear friend from the Jesus people days who taught us the song when he was nineteen (and he's about to roll over fifty), flubbed up on the lyrics a few times. He kept right on singing and strumming, though, mistakes and all--while trying not to laugh at himself when he saw us giggling.

Maybe that's the most wonderful thing about old friends. Any pretense that might exist early in the relationship is eventually lost--if you endure long enough--to humbled ambitions, outgrown jeans, and graying hair. (And I'm only talking about myself!)

And really, who had we come there to see? John the Baptist on the vast Kansas prairie? A reed blowing in the wind? A mighty prophet performing feats of music so amazing that the good coffee drinkers of Ottawa would throw large bills or better yet their debit cards into the jar on the edge of the stage?

Or had we come to hear a humble Christian sing a simple gospel of faith in Jesus, just like we heard a lifetime ago when we all first believed? A man who may not have become famous, but one who has remained faithful?

"Give your brother a helping hand and a prayer. Do your best to help him along. Learn to live together in peace and harmony, and then we'll all be singing the same song."

Good Friday was good, indeed. We didn't go to church, or then again, maybe we did. It felt more like a piece of heaven to me.

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Dirty Mind (#158)

Our darling daughter Carrie is finishing a degree this spring (yea, Carrie!) and working at the hospital near the university. She doesn't come home too often these days (once every six weeks or so), and I try to save housework for her, at her request. It's a way for her to make a few bucks and a way for me to save my back. She does a fine job of it, too; it's just that I'm never quite sure when she'll be here next, or exactly how much work to actually set aside for her.

For a couple of years, I had cleaning chicks come regularly once a month. It took some pressure off me so that I could devote more attention to my mom and mom-in-law, and my writing. But when I lost my girls a year ago to the fair state of Missouri's criminal justice system, my house went south in a hurry.

Since then, certain things have been, let's just say, building up. I must be feeling guilty about the build-up, or I wouldn't have so readily misinterpreted Doug's comment this morning.

"I liked it when we had cleaners come."

Listen, buddy: Cleaner scum will cost you extra!

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Flaky Theology (#159)

If you're planning a nice dinner for your Easter celebration this Sunday, you might already have mashed potatoes on your mind.

But just in case you hadn't given spuds any serious thought lately, check out Doug's entry today.

I think you'll find it delicious!

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I Love You People! (#160)

This may be the most gratifying 24 hours I've ever spent as a blogger!

I LOVE it that so many of you stepped up to the comment plate. Carrie K, the first commenter, asked if I'm in talks with any agents, editors, or publishers. Nothing official to report at this point. A number of good working relationships, though, and high hopes that I can put together proposals which will meet their needs.

One thing I've grappled with, when I'm crafting a proposal, is how to describe my target readership. If I pitch a book of short essays loosely based on some of the entries here, is my target audience middle-aged mothers of grown children? Is it women who are caring for kooky (and by kooky I mean, of course, entertaining) mothers--and mothers-in-law?

Is it couples of all ages who are curious about how a long-term married couple hangs on for dear life? Is it singles who wonder if their own moms are even on this planet, and they read me to find out? (Sorry, kids, that I can't be of more help!)

People of faith? Conservatives? Liberals? Pre-Emergents? Emergents? Never-to-be-Emergents?

People who just like to read goofy stories about pantyhose and other constrictive undergarments?

Well, book pitches aside, at least now I know more about who reads fallible. All kinds of great people! Too bad book marketing departments don't go for it when an author says, "This book is meant for absolutely everyone."

So I'm going to have to focus on a segment of the reading population, and focusing isn't my forte.

Any suggestions?

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Getting A Clue (#161)

So if an editor or agent or publisher asked me to describe my blog readership, what should I say?

If a whole bunch of you would leave a comment with your age, marital status, ages of kids, etc., I'd have a more accurate idea than I do right now. Throw in something about your occupation and church affiliation, too, if you'd like. Anything you want to share about yourself. I like to think I know my readers, but you may surprise me!

Go ahead. I love surprises.

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Maid—And Made—Of Honor (#162)

I haven't blogged about Terri Schiavo, and I'm not exactly going to now. Instead I want to tell you about my friends, the Kellams. I feel like I almost know Terri because I knew Tim Kellam. And it hurts to think about what's happening to her right now.

Maybe you've never been privileged to care for a person with a traumatic brain injury, but if you haven't, you've missed something beautiful.

It's one thing that I was able to help provide physical care for my maid-of-honor's husband when he nearly died after crashing his car in February, 1992. Yes, my friend JoAnn taught me how to administer his tube feeding and help her transfer him from the bed to the wheelchair and suction his trach--all skills she was forced to acquire when his insurance ran out for rehab care and she chose to bring him home rather than put him in a skilled nursing facility.

During the three years Tim lived after the accident, when he was in what the medical profession calls a persistent vegetative state, he and I became fast friends. You see, I had something of a resentment against Tim before the accident. I wasn't always sure he was treating my girlfriend like she deserved to be treated. In other words, he just plain old made me mad.

But everything changed when we met up again after the accident and our eyes locked. He couldn't speak, but that didn't make much difference in our relationship. He'd never been one for idle words anyway. I could tell by the look on his face that he appreciated me helping his wife, who'd decided--against the prevailing wisdom of the medical profession--to refrain from pulling the plugs.

It was more than that, though. Tim and I had our own thing going. I could tell Tim my worst, corniest jokes, and he'd do this wonderful, silent laugh thing that still makes me smile just to think of it. Tim could communicate more with the crinkles around his eyes and mouth than most people could if they wrote entire volumes. He and I both had to humble ourselves and face the facts--he needed help and I needed to care.

It's hard to believe it's been nearly ten years since Tim died. I wouldn't trade the friendship he gave me for anything.

And as for my maid of honor? I've never met anyone who kept her wedding vows with more devotion--or more honor--than JoAnn Holbrook Kellam.

I love you, Jo.

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The Five People You Meet On Earth (#163)

If you've never thought about this question, maybe you should. When I was faced with it, I was shocked by my answers. If you respond honestly and somewhat off-the-cuff (don't stop to think too long or you'll come up with the answers you think you "should" give), you will learn more about yourself than you might in many sessions of therapy:

Who are the five people, living or dead but personally known by you, who have had the biggest impact--positive or negative--in your life?

I'm not posting my people here, at least not right now, but you can if you'd like. I predict that you, too, will be surprised by who makes the cut.

Of course, then the question remains: Now what do you do?

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Check Out The Chick-Lit! (#164)

I belong to this really great writers group called American Christian Fiction Writers. We have an email loop that is always entertaining, encouraging, and educational. Not all of us have had our fiction published yet, but the published authors among us are so generous with their time and input.

Kristin Billerbeck, author of several fun chick lit books including "What A Girl Wants" and "She's Out of Control," is one of the most helpful members of our group, and guess what? She's going to be interviewed on The Today Show this Thursday, March 24, at (we think) 8:30 EST. I haven't been following Today's series called "Faith In America," but Kristin's segment is part of that.

So, for a good time, watch Kristin. She's talented, kindhearted, and an excellent role model for the chicks of America.

Oh, and don't just watch Kristin. Read her, too!

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Yes, But Admitting You Have A Problem Is The First Step. (#165)

Kevin just figured out something about himself, and he brought it to my attention, instead of the other way around.

"Being lazy and patient is a really bad combination. And I'm both."

Whoa, baby! Can't say he's not honest, though, can I?

Any crummy combinations you're living with?

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So Many Authors, Two Hours Time (#166)

My closest author friend in the whole world is Nancy Moser. If you're a reader of Christian fiction, you may have enjoyed "The Seat Beside Me," "Time Lottery," and "A Steadfast Surrender"--just to mention a few.

Nancy and I do lunch fairly often, and I always manage to get her latest release autographed over salads and dessert menus (no actual desserts for us, just menus, thank you).

But on Saturday, March 26, Nancy and seven other fabulous and fun authors will be appearing together in two bookstores--one in Topeka, Kansas, and the other in Olathe, Kansas.

Read all about it here.

No disrespect to Jerry Jenkins or anything, but this is what I'd call a "Glorious Appearing."

Hey, if you show up in Olathe, I'd love to meet you! How will you know me, you may ask? Who knows? Maybe I'll be live-blogging the event!

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Code (#167)

I'm watching the clock. It's already 9:30 a.m. I want to go get some writing done away from home, preferably in a free wi-fi environment, but the place I'm thinking of disables their wi-fi during the lunch hour, so I've got to get a move on.

I start to pack up my laptop and say to Doug, "I think I'm gonna' go sit somewhere."

"The Star of the Bucks?" he asks.

"Nope. The Pan of the Era."

We're having a good day.

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Perfect Paddy’s (#168)

Tell me this: Aside from being in Ireland to tread the auld sod today, what's your idea of a great St. Patrick's Day celebration?

To me, unless I've laughed, prayed, sung, and wept, I'm not sure I'm worthy to be counted among the Irish.

So I prayed that everyone in the world might, just for a day, know the blessed feeling of being Irish. Then I listened to some favorite traditional Irish music, featuring whistles and pipes and lyrics written by angels. I sang and wept my way through at least ten times listening to "The Dimmin' of the Day."

And tonight Doug and I will crawl in bed and watch, for the umpteenth wonderful time, my favorite movie in the world, "Waking Ned Devine." I love the characters in this movie like I love my own dear da and all his family. These are my people.

How about you? Did you have some good craic today?

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Losing Is Easy, Maintenance Downright Impossible (#169)

Back in the day, and by that I mean before all of our personal information began being available to anyone at the click of a mouse, I enjoyed my freedom.

By freedom you may think I mean the freedom to view, write, comment upon, and think stuff that doesn't make my name automatically appear way too high on a google search--like happens if I key in the names of various articles of underwear, adult diapers, and glycerin suppositories.

But that kind of nonsense doesn't worry me a bit.

What's been getting me down recently are the constant reminders--whether in snail mail, voice mail, or email--advising me of the myriad of "regularly scheduled maintenance" stuff I'm suddenly expected to accomplish.

When we were first married, the only way we remembered to change the oil in our little Gremlin was when we ran it out of oil altogether and cracked the block. Now THAT'S a reminder system! If there was a dummy light, we were too dumb to notice it, or we didn't have ten bucks to get the oil changed, or both. Let's just say back then we took a lot of crazy chances.

These days, instead of an old-fashioned dummy light that looked like Aladdin's lamp and always reminded me of I Dream of Jeanie, a flashing word picture irritates the dashboard, warning us to "Change Oil Soon!" And while the darned thing is flashing, it's also dinging, which is so annoying that it makes the passive-aggressive in me want to dye my hair blond, dress up in harem pants, and disappear into my lamp for a very long time.

But I don't. Because I'm not the kind of chick who indulges in avoidance behaviors. So instead I collect coupons and letters and emails from the Saturn dealership and the Valvoline joint and the Jiffy Lube, all letting me know that I am WAY overdue for my regularly scheduled maintenance on my three vehicles. When the second warnings from each of them come, there's usually a further discount offered on the services which I am delinquent in scheduling, so I hold out.

Of course, holding out carries its own set of risks. Something serious--not normally included in my regularly scheduled maintenance--often happens as a punishment for my tardiness, but it's worth playing the game. Have I mentioned I come from a family of gamblers?

If it was only three cars for which I had to provide regularly-scheduled maintenance, I'd have it made. Even adding up all the time and money it takes for oil changes, replacing tires as needed, servicing the brakes, changing the windshield wipers, topping off the fluids, and getting Missouri state inspections and license plates, I'd still have enough energy left over to actually go somewhere.

But, as I'm sure you've noticed by now, it's not just about the cars anymore.

What about our several computers? How often are we advised to maintain them by running anti-virus programs, upgrading software, and backing up files to goodness knows how many different safer locations?

When I have to purchase a new appliance of any kind, the first thing I do with the manual of instructions--which usually says something in bold across the front like DO NOT MISPLACE THESE CRITICAL PAPERS! IF YOU FAIL IN ANY POINT TO PERFORM REGULARLY SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE, THIS WARRENTY IS AUTOMATICALLY VOID!--is to file it somewhere where I will never find it again in my natural lifetime.

Otherwise, I'll have to actually read and feel responsible for vacuuming behind the grate thingy on the bottom of the front of the refrigerator ONCE PER MONTH! (If there's anyone in my reading audience who has ever vacuumed behind the grate thingy, please leave me a comment. I want names, people!)

Who has time for stuff like this? Especially when it's officially chain-saw season and we have the winter's ice storms to clean up after? Do you know that chain saw afficionados (who differ from chain saw owners in that they actually perform regularly scheduled maintenance on their chain saws) adjust the tension on their chains and do something else involving oil before EACH USE of their chain saws? And that this project might take as much time as actually accomplishing the duty for which the chain saw was purchased?

But it's not just the stuff that needs to be on a program of scheduled maintenance anymore--it's the stuff's owners. That's right. These days, I get emails and postcards from my dentist, who thinks I'm a total slacker, and my doctor, who can't believe I've put off the joys of a naked lady exam for upwards of eighteen months.

And do you know that once you hit the age of 50, the rest of your life will be consumed with nothing but regularly scheduled colonoscopies, bone scans, stress echocardiograms, urinalysis, blood work, and tests for glaucoma and cataracts?

And that while you're regularly falling apart, your life insurance guy and your car insurance lady and your health insurance agent will be wanting to meet annually to update your policies to "reflect the way you live your life now"?

What life? Just when I think I'm going to blow this regularly-scheduled-maintenance pop stand and go out for a relaxing dinner and a movie, I remember my debit card got turned down by our regularly-scheduled exterminator.

Of all the things I've failed to maintain, I miss my balanced checkbook the most.

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