Writing with an Open Hand

In 1991, I completed writing the biography of Larry and Shirley Rascher, missionaries to Irian Jaya (Incessant Drumbeat: Tragedy and Triumph in Irian Jaya). I have never felt more strongly that the Lord wanted me to do something than to write that book.

I knew I was supposed to write the book, so I figured publication was up to the Lord. I would be faithful in submitting it to publishers and see what He had in mind. But frankly, I felt so strongly that it was His project and not mine that I wasn’t discouraged by the rejections. One after another, Christian publishers declined, replying “no one buys missionary biographies.”

One day Shirley Rascher suggested that I submit it to Christian Literature Crusade, a small Christian publisher with a book ministry around the world. I called their office to learn the name of the editor to whom I should address it, so that it wouldn’t languish in the wrong pile. The receptionist said that their senior editor had recently retired, and gave me the name of an interim one.

I sent it to him and he quickly replied, accepting the manuscript for publication, saying that he and his wife were missionaries in Indonesia when the Raschers were there, and “were touched by their story, as were people around the world.” So you see, for this slice of time a man was in the publisher’s receiving chair who had great respect for the Raschers and their story.

Not only was the Lord involved in securing a publisher, He also oversaw the timing of publication. When I received the book’s galleys to proof – a proof for which the book is formatted in pages, so it looks like a book – Larry Rascher was dying of cancer. When we began the process, he was hearty and well. I took the galleys to his home, where the Rascher children had gathered from around the world, and showed it to him. It was to be his legacy. Little did we know at the outset.

I cannot claim that every book I’ve written has had God’s handprints on it so certainly. But I have learned that God cares about the gift He’s given us to write, and He wants us to use the gift. The “good” that comes from any one project may simply be to hone our craft so that another project, a project of His particular blessing, will be the best that it can be.

So write. Journals, columns, manuals, essays, articles, books. Be available and obedient. Write, keeping your projects in your hands that are open, palms up. Long ago I listened to a tape on writing where the speaker said that unfortunately too often among Christians the writers aren’t livers, and the livers aren’t writers. Sometimes you will be in a season of life where you’re living so fully that writing isn’t possible. That’s good! Live. Write. Live. Write.

[Editor's note: I had the rare treat of stepping away from my computer and actually meeting Mary Beth for coffee last week. I love that! She is so kind and generous with her writing expertise, and like a true journalist and writer, very curious in nature and eager to know my story too. Mary Beth is currently in the midst of writing a novel and launching her personal historian business. In fact, she is headed to a Personal Historians Conference in Las Vegas in October...for all of you interested in that, here's the link to the Association of Personal Historians website and conference. Thank you, Mary Beth, for inspiring us to write. ~Cindy Blomquist, WOTH Editor]

Tell the Story | Think Small

Sometimes a writer has a great story to tell. But sometimes the story is someone else’s, and the writer is the vehicle to bring the story to life.

In my blog post last week, I mentioned writing the story of Larry and Shirley Rascher, missionaries to Irian Jaya. My husband Alex and I met Larry at our church’s missions festival many years ago. He was the missionary assigned to tell stories to our fourth grade Sunday school class. Larry was a born storyteller, and brought a skull, spear and shield as props. After class, the three of us lingered and Larry told us about the drowning of his two children. He said he didn’t know why he was telling us; he never told that story unless someone asked him. The story haunted me for weeks.

A year later I ran into Larry at a conference. “Hi, Larry. I met you….”

He remembered me. “Aren’t you a writer?” he asked. Had I told him that? It was my secret identity; in real life I was a busy stay-at-home mom.

“Well, yes,” I said, flattered.

“People have been after us for years to write our story,” Larry said. “Would you consider doing it?”

My mind reeled. But I’d have to go to Irian Jaya! I thought.

At the same time he said, “Of course you’d have to go to Irian Jaya.”

I left our brief meeting in a fog. Somehow I knew that I, the stay-at-home mom, would write this story, and that I would travel to Irian Jaya. And I did. It was more than twenty years ago and remains the greatest adventure of my life.

If you have a big story to write – yours or someone else’s – don’t let the entirety of what you’re attempting overwhelm you. Writer William Zinsser suggests this:

…think small. Don’t rummage around in your past – or your family’s past – to find episodes that you think are "important" enough to be worthy of including in your memoir. Look for small self-contained incidents that are still vivid in your memory. If you still remember them it’s because they contain a universal truth that your readers will recognize from their own life.

Here’s an example of what I think he means. When I flew to Irian Jaya by myself - because the Raschers were to meet me there – I cried the entire flight from Denver to Los Angeles. What in the world was I doing, leaving my husband and three young sons at home to do this wild thing? Yet I’ve never felt more strongly that this was the Lord’s will.

In LA I boarded a fourteen-hour Indonesian airline flight that refueled in Hawaii (in the middle of the night – ha!). As we crossed the Pacific in darkness, the Big Dipper was perfectly framed by my little square airplane window. As I gazed at it, I had the sense that the Lord was pouring out his blessings upon me. He knew where I was going. He would protect me and be with me.

Rather than giving a travel log from Irian Jaya, I believe Zinsser is saying tell about the small, telling moments like this.

Capture these stories, one after another without concern for order or form. Then spread them out on the floor and see what theme arises, see what order seems right.

Writing in Sorrow

Just as there is a time for every season, there is a time—and a way—to write about a heavy trial or great trauma in your life. Frequently I will hear a friend who has lost a loved one to death or suicide, or has been stricken by disease or has suffered a desertion say: “I want to write a book about this.”

This compulsion, I believe, is often fueled by the need to process a horrific experience –and writing is an excellent tool. Definitely it is a time to journal feelings and happenings while they are fresh and even raw. But in the throes of intense emotion is rarely the time to write a book—at least one aimed toward publication. Rather, it’s time to let the experience of writing work its healing potential, perhaps for your eyes, or for a few eyes, only.

Our son, Drew, was a junior, sitting in class taking a chemistry test at Columbine High School the day that two disturbed students opened fire in his school. The layers of tragic and heroic events and the spiritual warfare that followed in the community made my writer-juices bubble and boil. I would write a book on Columbine: stories of healing and hope.

Thankfully, publishers were not interested and I had the sense to drop it, as days, months, and years rolled on that were filled with hope in our community, but also dissension and sadness. Finally, ten years after the event two well-researched books have come forth, with the needed perspective on the event. It was my season to journal about Columbine, but it wasn’t the time to write a book.

In 1989, I wrote Incessant Drumbeat, the biography of Larry and Shirley Rascher who were career missionaries in Irian Jaya (West Papua, New Guinea). Their story included a shipwreck during a tsunami and the drowning of their two toddlers. They had rarely even talked about the story with their older surviving children who were not on the boat that day.

I’ll never forget the end of my first evening of interviewing the Raschers, who at the time lived close to me. “I have one thing to ask of you,” Larry said on the front porch, as I was leaving. “If we’re not going to finish, let’s not get started.”

He and Shirley would have to re-live that time. They were up to it for good purpose, but not if it would come to naught.

Be sensitive to the time, and the way to tell a difficult story. And remember that there are great blessings from journaling—from writing for oneself, or one’s family and friends. Whether or not to seek to publish a story is a different matter that may well need time and perspective.