Author Spotlight: Ruth Logan Herne

Ruth Logan Herne boggles my mind. Do you remember the advertisement for batteries featuring ‘the Energizer bunny’? That’s what comes to mind whenever I think of Ruthy. She just keeps going! I don’t think she considers herself amazing, but she is.

She lives on a small farm in western New York, “surrounded by grown kids, cute grandkids, cats, dogs, chickens, frogs, toads and snakes” as one of her bios says — oh, and donkeys now, too.

Ruthy and her hubby, Farmer Dave, stock a garden produce stand in their front yard during the summer and add a whole whack of pumpkins to it in the fall. She bakes constantly, usually involving hordes of children in the process, and shares recipes and related articles online at the Yankee-Belle Cafe. She also contributes regularly to the Seekerville and Petticoats & Pistols blogs.

She has repainted rooms, transformed a closet into a reading nook for her grandchildren, renovated her living/family room, re-landscaped her front yard. I don’t think there’s anything she can’t do if she has a mind to! She is totally devoted to her family and at the same time, is active in her church and community.

I’ve never met her IRL but if I did, I know I would love her. I don’t recall how long ago it was that we became Facebook friends, but I’m just one of many for her — more than 2,850 of them at last count. You see, on top of everything else, Ruthy is a multi-published, bestselling, award-winning author.

She has published more than twenty novels for Harlequin’s Love Inspired  line, and many others for Zondervan, Barbour, Waterfall Press/Amazon, Summerside Press, WaterBrook Press/Multnomah


 and Franciscan Media


. Now she’s added mysteries to her list and is writing for Guidepost. She writes three-to-four books a year, and I don’t know how she does it.

On the other hand, yes I do. She’s disciplined about her commitments and she’s passionate about the stories she writes.

I’m one who prefers to do my writing in the quiet of late evening when the rest of my world has settled down for the night. If I happen to check Facebook around 1:30 a.m. Pacific Time, I know I’ll always find Ruthy there, posting a cheery ‘Good morning’ to her fellow #1K1HR online writers at the unearthly hour of 4:30 a.m. Eastern time.  Armed with her Diet Mountain Dew, she’ll be diving into a couple hours of writing before her household starts up for the day. This morning was no exception:

“Morning crew has arrived during a very silent night… no snow so no plows… no early traffic… no littles that woke up early… Just me and sleeping dogs and a cozy fire. Let’s do this! It’s 4:29 AM. Do you know where your manuscript is???”

Ruth Logan Herne is undeniably a remarkable person. I’d like her even if she weren’t. She is sweet, humble, and brimming with faith, quick to smile, and lend a helping hand or word of encouragement. Her “Mylanta!” exclamations never fail to make me smile.

I’d aspire to be like her when I grow up, but I can’t possibly emulate her endless energy and bubbly cheerfulness, plus, given I’m probably old enough to be her mother, that’s an unachievable goal anyway. Perhaps it’s enough to be glad there are people like her in the world. She makes it a better place.

~  ~  ~

 

 

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Thoughts on not much of anything…

A reprise from 2009. I hope you don’t mind.

~

I’ve been thinking. What I write here varies with my mood, but the two topics that most often turn up in this blog are my novel writing and my locale. If you were a fly on the wall here, you’d understand why that’s so.

In this semi-rural retreat I call home, I am surrounded by trees, a bit of wildlife, and the stillness that makes for a perfect sanctuary. Nighttime moonlight flits between the darkened trees to find its way through the french doors beside my bed. Morning sunlight filters through trees to bring its warmth into the livingroom.

With hands wrapped around a coffee mug I stand at the bank of windows in our kitchen/family room and check out the slash of deer tracks punctuating the leftover snow in a sheltered corner of the back yard, and watch a lone Towhee who has arrived on the deck for its breakfast. There is no place I’d rather be. When my thoughts settle into this groove my subjects are home and hearth.

Other times my mental closet of plots and process reaches spillover stage and the ideas that tumble out are random aspects of novel writing — the quirks of the Muse, character development, storylines, revision frustrations, even agents and rejection dejection.

There isn’t a lot of logic to why and when creativity clicks into gear or what writing will result when it does. I’ve learned the important thing is not so much what I write but that I write. My responsibility is to keep trying and eventually I become a channel for ideas that need to materialize. Then I simply have to find an appropriate title to attach and launch the creation into cyberspace.

So, with that revelation, here’s today’s contribution. (Not much content, is there? It’s indicative of the state of my morning brain.)

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After the decorations come down…

I started this post a few days ago, and then decided my first priority was a post for my church’s website. Its title ended up being the same as the one I’ve used here, although the content is totally different. It’s prompted here by the current mess that surrounds me.

This is just one small area — just the loveseat in our family room. You have to imagine beyond the green storage bin on the coffee table to the other seven bins and assorted cardboard boxes also waiting to be filled.

Decorations aren’t what Christmas is all about, of course, but I still enjoy the cheer and sparkle of the seasonal decorations. Even more than how they look, I like the nostalgia and the memories they evoke.

If you had peeked in my windows on a December evening (but I’m glad you didn’t; that would be creepy), you’d likely have found me in the semi-darkness, sitting by the fireplace and squinting at the tree lights to exaggerate their sparkle. It’s pure magic! It takes me back to the awe and wonder of my childhood Christmasses.

We begin decorating the house at the start of Advent and reluctantly begin un-decorating after Epiphany…the Twelfth Night of Christmas. Unfortunately, since our preference is for natural rather than artificial greenery, the life of our tree is limited. After a month indoors, even with regular watering, the needles begin parting company with branches. It’s time.

So the tree is down (it will be chipped and recycled), the decorations are being packed away and the New Year is under way. What now? First is always the replacing of furniture and a thorough vacuuming. (It doesn’t matter how thorough, we’ll still find fir needles in odd places next summer!)

This is the point when melancholia at the bare decor conflicts with joy at the lack of clutter. Everything looks so clean, but I find myself rearranging furniture, switching artwork, maybe adding a new plant — whatever it takes to compensate for the perceived sterility.

Sometimes … sometimes, that means picking new paint colours. I often wondered why we always seemed to tackle renovations in the winter months. Now that’s beginning to make sense. I’m not sure what this year’s project is going to be, but stay tuned. Now that the decorations are down and packed away, I’m taking a good look around.

~  ~  ~

 

Advent II – Live in Peace

Our world sure is a troubled place! Every newscast I saw today featured shots of hatred in action: fighting, killing and destruction.

Today was the second Sunday in Advent, and we began the worship service at my church by lighting the second candle representing Peace. (The first candle last week was for Hope.)

There are lots of platitudes about peaceful living, but they might not mean much to people who are mired in turmoil and war. “Where is God,” they ask, “when good people are hurting?”

All I can answer is, “He’s right beside them, hurting, too.” This world isn’t what God intended, it’s what we’ve made it. People are quick to take potshots at others with their words, their hands and their weapons, and the innocent get caught in the crossfire. It’s painful and sinful, and oh, how God’s heart must ache!

In this season of “Peace and Goodwill towards all people” we see random acts of kindness and generosity all around — goodness is emerging in small doses, if only for a few weeks. Would that we could start a movement that would promote peace year ’round.

Why couldn’t we?

~

If it is possible, as far as it depends on you,
live at peace with everyone.

[Romans 12:18]

Make every effort to live in peace
with everyone and to be holy;
without holiness no one will see the Lord.

[Hebrews 12:14]

~  ~  ~

And so it begins…

December 1st. It’s not even 4:30 p.m. and already it’s pitch black outside. At least, it is until the outside Christmas lights, recently strung along the roofline around our back deck, suddenly blink on and shine through the windows to illuminate the family room.

Advent arrives this weekend and we’ve begun some of the annual decorating. We have a friend who mocks our early start because, for her, Christmas doesn’t begin until December 24th.

But the season passes faster with each successive year and now we no sooner put out our favourite items when it seems time to pack them away again. I like to savour the season for as long as possible so I begin when Advent starts.

We often refer to it as the Season of Waiting, or of Preparation and Anticipation, but Ann Voskamp‘s comment strikes home:

Advent is a whole lot more than waiting for Christmas, Advent is a whole lot more than preparing for Christmas — Advent is ultimately about preparing the way for the Light of Christ in a world dying for light. Advent is a whole lot more than passively waiting for the King — it’s about participating in the work of the Kingdom of God.

It does make me wonder, though, why we wait until December to show compassion and generosity, as if the need exists only within the parameters of the Christmas season. Surely “the work of the Kingdom of God” is a 365-days-a-year thing.

Perhaps we need the Christmas season to remind us of this. To give us a nudge out of our complacency and into action. To focus on the One who came as a Child and changed all history. To remember that he said,

Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me. [Matthew 25:40]

Yes, the world is dying for light” and too often we feel there is little we can do to make a difference. But even as small blips of light can illuminate a room, so in this Advent season we can reflect God’s love, hope, joy and peace into the world and help brighten someone’s darkness.

~

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Hoarding on the Bottom Shelf (Rerun)

In lieu of something new and shiny to share with you, today’s mental meandering is a re-run from November 2008 and 2011. I hate to admit publicly that I’ve been contemplating some office tidying. When I say contemplating I mean staring ineffectively at the accumulation of paper that surrounds me in here. It seems nobody else is likely to do anything about the mess, so I guess it’s up to me. I’m not sure I’m up to tackling the task, but I’m contemplating it. That’s a positive step, isn’t it?

~

My bedroom closet should be purged. It contains sizes I haven’t worn in a decade. There’s a dresser drawer full of sox I don’t wear, too. They’re in assorted eye-catching colours but I only wear black ones now. (It doesn’t matter what else I’m wearing, black is always chic.) Then there are those kitchen cupboards devoted to empty plastic containers that should be recycled, and gadgets that looked indispensable when demonstrated but have never been used.

You get the picture. I’m a hoarder. This may explain why I have in my office a virtual bottom shelf piled to capacity with printouts of successive drafts of my novels and copies of all the articles I’ve written–kept for what purpose I don’t know. After all, I have clips of the published articles neatly filed away. And you can be sure those early novel drafts will never be offered as reading material, even to uncritical family members. So why haven’t they been tossed out? My theory, if anyone happens to ask, is that writers should keep a record of their journey towards publication.

During the months (and years) while rejection slips accumulate I can take encouragement from the knowledge that what’s been sent out is far superior to the earlier versions. If proof is required I need only browse a few pages of Draft #1 and compare them to Draft #20.

As those pages collect dust on the shelf, however, I wonder if some will outlive me and my publication hopes for them. After I’m gone might someone believe these old manuscripts should be circulated? What a terrifying thought!

“… If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my drafts to take.”

~

Do you keep copies of all the old versions of your manuscript(s)? Or are you ruthless in eliminating every trace of them? And, the big question… why?