Cognizant

Sometimes I look out upon the world and I wonder who's really alive - who's awake and who is still sleeping. It's that feeling that everyone around you just may happen to be a robot. Cognizant or not. And perhaps each and every one of us feels that way at times? Is everyone else real?

I suppose we're all philosophers in that way. And if you've never dared to consider life so deeply, then, could it be, you've never really awakened? For indeed, we're all asleep till we're made alive in Christ. But once alive, how then do you live and move and breathe? With what awareness do you go through life? And if with none, then I challenge you to sink deep, deep, deep into your cognizance. For this is what separates us from beasts.

We can think.

And thinking must not merely be limited to choices. No. That requires little to no use of the mind. Rather, if we are indeed alive and capable of consideration, and if we are created in the image of our creator, whose mind inspired ours, then oughtn't we consider the world around us, and more importantly, the people around us?

Dive deep.

Instead, since those around us must not be robots, but cognizant human beings, then every person we encounter, must, in the words of C.S. Lewis, be a immortal, just as ourselves.

"There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors" (The Weight of Glory).

And isn't that just incredible?

When I consider such a thought, each person I encounter becomes something of a wonder. All physical appearances seems to slide off like clothing or mud. What remains, is an essence of sorts - a true character. A character comprised of experience, wisdom, foolishness, kindness and stupidity. Something of a mix, with different percentages of each, you might say, comprising a whole. And to think that each is such a unique thumbprint, each designed specifically by the Almighty.

How can, in light of this, one ever treat another human being as a robot? But instead as something eternal... outlasting... with either salvation or damnation in store? And I do pray, that it be the former rather than the latter. For if we are indeed, such intelligent creatures, then perhaps we're all subtly aware of the gaping, gnawing hole that is our desperate desire to know if there is more to this life, and perhaps the next, than, eating, breathing and pleasure.

And if indeed there is, then how much more important is it, to find the Source of greater purpose?

The Burdened Ones

“The Burdened One”

by Emily Bergstrom

They go on with smiling face,

thinking all is well,

for I can walk and step in grace.

Who can fear what’s known and good?

As long as they are unaware,

and I remain,

if I walk with care –

all will be fine, no smiles chased.

But if I walk the untrod road,

and something new wells up and out?

If I cannot bear my heavy load?

Then who is to say what will come?

For kindness is bread for the burdened one.

Without their bread, they shrivel,

like grapes beneath the sun

So, “keep all the same, don’t smile, don’t frown!”

Don’t tip the apple cart.

Truth is death for the burdened one.

March 25, 2014

Don't be discouraged by mood in poetry. I believe that sometimes bringing a feeling out gives the opportunity to address the solution. 

This poem is something I wrote in light of a personal struggle of my own. I have never liked sharing my burdens with others. It's embarrassing and strange - even awkward. No one wants to be the complainer or the martyr. And even more importantly, no one wants their dirty laundry potentially shared beyond a confidence. My own worst fear is that I don't want anyone's opinion of me to change. 

Sometimes I find the will to share the burdens I carry, but I'm fairly certain whatever I say still comes out in an awkward way. Maybe no one else notices, but that's the way I perceive myself. 

Still, God created us as a body, to live together in community and support one another. 

Recently, I have started reading the book of Ecclesiastes. and while I'm certain you might have heard the verses before, it speaks very well to the purpose of seeking community with other Christians and surrounding ourselves with the support system God has so wonderfully put into place for us. 

 "Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." Ecclesiastes 4: 9-12

Hope of Glory

What's in a story that makes you laugh?
that makes you cry?
that wrings forth from the lips a heartfelt sigh?
Is it mood that sways with persuasion?
Like sappy songs and presentation?
Or strange words that lacked a voice
and now resonates perfect word-choice?
Maybe it is joy, camraderie
that makes us cheer
and gives us glee.
And if that's so, then what is life?
but a shared story
that gives us peace
and hope of glory? 

He Feared the Source

He Feared the Source

January 25, 2013 at 1:20pm

PublicFriends of FriendsFriendsOnly MeCustomClose FriendsMy ParentsSee all lists...writerNordhoff HighWilliam Jessup UniversityRocklin, California AreaFamilyGolden Valley Charter SchoolPaso RoblesOjai Christian AcademyWilliam Jessup UniversityLompoc, California AreaWillian Jessup UniversityThe Glory of GodOjai, California AreaAcquaintancesGo Back

In the mountains high above there is a long and twisted road. Its skinny paths bear little else but wasted green turned brown. So every traveler who dares the road brings what he thinks best. But for this moment, I tell of a time and one lost and lonely man who started on the road.

Within his home, the man stood and pondered what he could bear and carry. For once he reached the other side, he knew not what he needed. In all due time, he packed a bag with much to be of use. And with his bag, heavy and weighted, he wandered the curving groove.

For many hours he hiked the hill and up beyond the trees. And in the peaks, all water dried and green was turned to brown. Tumbled weeds and dried up grass marked the forsaken tips. His throat grew dry and thirst was harsh. In the second day of travel he pondered if he should die.

But to his fortune, not far off, in the midst of death and decay, a well stood simple and small. In his thirst, the man knelt down and stared into the well. He licked his lips to quench their parch, his eyes locked on the water. Though as he stared a thought occurred and drove him nigh to madness.

Having never seen nor drank this water, he wondered at its repute. Thirst could take him soon enough, but poison seemed far worse. For while the water could be good and take away his pain, the man was terrified of what could be and therefore sat and cried. His worries made him much afraid and so he chose to sit. Not one sip did he draw from the small and simple well.

Hours passed and for his choice, he had no strength to rise and walk again. So he sat all alone till he died a slow and sorry death.

Was this man wise for his choice? He feared what could make him well. And as would have it, more travelers came, just and thirsty, and stopped beside that well. Cup in hand they drank their fill and found their strength restored.

Two kind souls were nice enough to pause just for the man. They hauled him up into their arms and bore him to a grave. But with a chisel, they carved a stone to mark the six foot hole.


Here lies the man
Who died of thirst
When salvation stood in sight
For though he might have lived more days
He questioned the source
The giver of life


Emily Bergstrom – January 2013

In Every Song

I've loved you all along.
The zone that seemed so clear,
the one you dread,
the one you fear,
never held you captive, nor even claimed your hand.
Indeed, I've loved you all along
and heard your name in every song.

I've loved you all along.
And when I laughed so hard I cried,
my heart did break;
I nearly died.
Hoping that one day you'd know...
Indeed, I've loved you all along
and heard your name in every song.

I've loved you all along.
And all along I've sought to earn
your enchanting glance
and tried to learn
every need you've ever had and wanted so much to make you glad.
Indeed, I've loved you all along
and heard your name in every song.


I've loved you all along.
I even feared you'd never see,
the girl right here,
the girl who's me.
Because that zone that seemed so clear, broke my heart.
Nevertheless, indeed, I've loved you all along
and heard your name in every song.

Emily Bergstrom
10/11/2013 

Strong

It's hard, Father God
to stand on my own
and though I have tried to keep strong all alone
I find that in you
only you can atone

Sin is a weight
it bears down on the son
and weak he becomes, no victory won
and on his knees does he fall
completely undone

So rise up and claim
the strength offered you
and give praise to the one who sees you through
for only with him
can we all things do

Emily Bergstrom
Sept. 22, 2013

Trudging Along

Oh! For a minute, let's pretend writing comes easily.

I suppose the minute's over. Now, if I'm honest, sometimes it really does... but then comes editing. Editing is when I get slowed down. Especially since this is the first manuscript I'd really like to get published. I've heard the first one always gets the most effort. Though I really don't care to count, I think I've rewritten the beginning of this one far too many times and now I'm rewriting the ending. So much for having a lazy summer.

Having just returned from a camping trip, but mind is all ablaze with ideas... for the sequel. If only life handed me sugar instead of lemons. Humpf. Oh well. I'm making lemonade now. I could do so much more with sugar though! I could get this ending taken care of!

Well, writer friends, here's to you! We're in camaraderie, aren't we? Here's to plugging through the drudgery of editing. Somehow, we survive and keep moving forward. The end is in sight, but the last miles are rather tiring.

Emily

Poetry

Out on the floor I can see you smilin'
feet keepin' time
your partners seem sweet
But, Oh won't you dance... with me?

Ask me to dance
ask me to sway
I've been waiting all night just to hear you say
Oh won't you dance... with me.

Sure looks to me like you dressed up tonight
eyes shinin' bright
your hair done up swell
So, Oh won't you dance... with me?

Though it seems strange, I've eyes only for you
my feet are turned left
bu I'll give you my best
Please won't you dance... with me?

Take up my hand and we'll give it a try. This dance is just for you. Oh please sway with me?

Dance with me, dance with me, please won't you dance?

Emily Bergstrom
6/26/2013

History you can taste

not my copy!

I'm just a bit of a history nut if you haven't already guessed. So it only seems right that every now and then I share some of my historical stuff. Speaking of which, I happen to own the April 1883 edition of the Godey's Lady's Book. I use it mostly for research for my manuscripts, but there are plenty of other interesting things in this little magazine.

One of my favorite things to take note of are the recipes. Often, when writing, I haven't the faintest idea of what to feed my characters, but this little book has plenty of decent (historically accurate) ideas.

Anyways... thought I might share some 130 year old recipes

BTW: did you know that in 1883, a Godey's Lady's Book subscription cost $2.00 a year?

Potato Salad

Cold boiled potatoes,

Onion,

Vinegar,

Salad oil,

Mustard,

Pepper,

Salt,

Slice some cold potatoes, and sprinkle over them a little finely chopped parsley and onion. Mix a dressing with the proportion of two spoonfuls of oil to one of vinegar, add mustard, pepper, and salt to taste, mix well together and beat with a fork until it becomes creamy, then pour over the vegetables. Bottles anchovies may be added to this, when it becomes anchovy salad. 

 

  Soup Stock

Odds and ends of meat,
Herbs,
Six whole cloves,
Twelve whole peppers.

Save the trimmings and coarse bits of your roasting pieces, also the bones, and to every two pounds put a quart of water; when it comes to a boil set it back from the hot fire, where it will simmer six hours, then add herbs and seasoning; cook two hours longer, strain, and put in a cool place; in the morning skim off the fat. This can be used to make any kind of soup or sauces, and is very convenient to have on hand, as it really costs nothing - the spice is sufficient for a gallon of stick. 

 

Stewed Beefsteak

A thick steak,
One onion,
three cloves,
Carrot, turnip, and onion. 

Partially fry a thick beefsteak with an onion; then roll it up, put it into a stew pan with a little stock or gravy, add three cloves, some slices of carrot, turnip and onion. Put it in the oven for an hour, then thicken the gravy with flour and butter, season, add a spoonful of mushroom catsup, and serve.

 

Milk Biscuit

One quart of flour,
Two tablespoonfuls of butter,
two teaspoonfuls of soda,
One pint of milk,
Half a tablespoonful of salt.

Take one quart of flour and mix with it two teaspoonfuls of soda, then add two tablespoonfuls of butter, and half a teaspoonful of salt; moisten the mixture gradually with one pint of sweet milk, roll out, cut in round cakes, and bake in a quick oven.

 

Pound Seed  Cake

One pound of butter,
One pound of sugar,
One pound of flour,
Eight eggs,
Caraway seeds to taste.

Rub the butter and sugar together until they are beaten to a cream; then add one pound of flour well dried, eight eggs (yolks and whites beaten separately), and caraway seeds to taste. Mix the ingredients, and beat all well together for one hour. Put the batter into a tin cake-mould lined with paper and well buttered. Bake in a moderate oven.

 

German Cream

One quart of cream,
Yolks of four eggs,
Quarter of a pound of sugar,
Half ounce of isinglass.

Whip one pint of cream stiff, and put it on a sieve; boil the remaining pint with the yolks of the eggs,  well beaten; sweeten, and flavor with vanilla; put into the insinglass dissolved, and set it on the ice. When it begins to thicken, stir in the whipped cream, a spoonful at a time; put into a mould and keep it one the ice.


I suppose I'll be the first to admit I only use about maybe a fourth of these measurements to this day, but its rather interesting to see the way they used to phrase things. Now, I can't promise that you will be able to decipher these recipes and make them yourself, but if you're a writer, some food might spice up your writing.

Whatever you do with it! I wish you luck!

Emily

The Second World War in Europe

Somewhere, in almost everyone's family tree, there is someone who fought in WWII. For me, it was my great-grandpa. We called him "Grandpa Boom" which was easier to say that "Busboom," which was his surname. I always loved the old man - he used to give my brother and I Wherther's caramel hard candies.

When I was born, I was named for his wife, Rose, my great-grandma who died when my mom was 14. But being the "history buff" of my family, I am ever grateful that wonderful lady saved his letters home from the war.

One of my favorites happens to be his account of V-E day in Paris. He paints quite the picture.

Some time before, he put in for a pass and made a few trips to Paris to visit friends and people he knew stationed there. He sent some of those pictures home to my great-grandma Rose and their son, Don (Butch). He didn't take any that I know of on V-E day, but a description tops a picture any day!

9 Mar 45

Dearest Honey + Butch

            Well here I am again back from Paris and still able to get around. I really hit the right day to be there – (V-E day -) and plenty of things were happening. I’ll bet I walked 10 or 12 miles around that town trying to see everything in a short time. There was plenty of celebrating all night long. I didn’t get to bed till two in the morning and there were still enough people out to make it look like a Sat. afternoon at home. I don’t know how late they stayed up, but things were pretty quiet when I got up at seven this morning. It take long for the tho, by ten o’clock the streets were crowded again with a lot of people who didn’t seem to know where they were going.

            Last night there was a street dance on almost every other block. It seemed good to see all the street lights on again, and I think they had every light they could find in Paris lit last night. That plus all the G.I.s that were lit (to the gills) really made for a big time.

            Oh yes, honey you remember Rev. Fleischer who use to be in Ventura. He’s the fellow that went fishing with Geo and I. He’s a Maj. and the head chaplain over all these replacement pools around here. His offices are in Paris so I went in to see him this morning. He is the first person I have seen since being in the army that I knew back when? He said if anything ever came up and I needed a little help to let him know. No he can’t get me a discharge so get that idea out of your head for a little longer now. It shouldn’t be too long tho I hope.

            He also told me that Geo had been to Paris shortly before Easter, but it had one of those queer tricks of fate that he had to be out of town the week Geo was down. Maybe we’ll all get together again one of these days At Home.

            Well honey you should gather from this that I had a pretty good time. I hope I’ll be able to make that trip again one of these days.

            The big clock on the church just struck ten and as I didn’t get much sleep last night I’d better roll in toot [sp?] sweet. So till next time all my Love and Best Wishes.

Love, Art

So that's my current project actually... typing up all of his letters and stringing them together in order with all the pictures he sent home and received. It just gets me all fluttery inside to think that this is REAL history and from my relatives' perspective. 

I love it when history gets personal.

Emily

Growing Seeds

-->

Here they stand, washed and clean

wearing white

Shining keen.

On the lawn, in the yard,

bold faced front,

smiles large.

And if you ask, you’ll hear them say:

Jesus, only way.

As infant babes, they made a stand,

all rejoiced,

all was grand.

In that way, they grew to know

a man, a savior,

and the world, a show.

So him they claimed as right and true,

but if you knew…

In their hearts they doubt the promise -

whitewashed tombs

like the psalmist.

If they sin, their worries sway.

Will he forgive?

Or send away?

Does one trespass weight the more

and blacken hearts to the core?

So deep within they hold the bones

to front a mask,

to shield the moans.

This in mind, they pray and plead

others see

only potent, godly deed.

And so go on, empty, broken sepulcher

living what they wish they were.

Spiting words to say and deeds to do,

still they stumble,

faults they eschew .

To their knees they come,

Savior and Lord,

But have faults won?

Heart so willing for His gain,

but flesh so weak, causing pain.

How can it be that perfect God

Should love a man?

Making fine a packed dirt clod

I glory in that this love, this creed

Depends not on perfection

But a growing seed.

Persisting on, watered, starved

Into the ground, it’s slowly carved.

And as it carves a hard won place

To the sun,

It lifts its face.

And even when the drought does come

The roots still cling

Though watered only some

The tenuous grasp is enough to hold

And reap the treasure of life worth gold. 

Emily Bergstrom

5/3/2013

Looking Back...

Well, the conference is over and I'm utterly exhausted. But it was all worth it! I'm very glad that I was able to go this year and only God can receive credit for everything coming together for me. He is an awesome God and knows exactly what we need.

There were a lot of amazing workshops and I'm rather sorry that I missed some of them. But the ones I did go to were hosted by fantastic people such as Mona Hodgson, Ramona Richards, Steve Laube, and Karen Ball. They had great things to say about the publishing process, writing well, and techniques for telling a good story. Good stuff!

But all of that feels kind of flat in light of Saturday. I sent in two manuscripts this year (well, technically the same manuscript twice). One to Mona and the other to an agent. Mona is one of the sweetest people on earth and her stories are equally sweet. I really do recommend looking her up on amazon, google books or christianbook.com. Mona gave me a lot of great feedback on my story, all of which I hope to implement over the next few days. But even in its current state, I got some very encouraging feedback from the agent I sent Aura Lea to.

I met with her on Saturday... hence why Saturday was such a good day for me.

Saturday morning, after lunch, I was able to retrieve my manuscript from the hospitality center at Mt. Hermon. Both of my envelopes were there - so of course my heart when off beat after that. When you send a manuscript in for editorial review, you either receive a "yes" or a "no." So I was rather afraid to open that manila envelope! But of course, I did...

I sat down on the bench over near Newton Hall and took a deep breath. There was a blue slip of paper at the front of my manuscript which had my answer. On that slip was a check mark and a meeting time. The agent liked my writing!

Nothing could contain my excitement after that. So of course, I skipped about for a while and then sat down to do some editing (but I didn't really get anything done). My meeting was at 5:30. There were several hours of anxiety for me to sit through.

Thankfully, those hours did pass. at 5:20, I packed up my stuff and went to wait in hospitality for the agent to arrive. When the agent came through the doors, I got a smile and together we went out to sit on a planter outside the coffee house.

I assume many other authors sent in manuscript submissions to this particular agent, so it took some memory jogging for the agent to differentiate mine from the others. After that, I was asked to talk a little bit about my story and writing style, as well as my history. One question however, made me pause. Aura Lea has never been read through by anyone. So while my writing style is noteworthy, my ability to craft a decent plot is untested.

The agent really wanted someone to read it all the way through. But, once I could get that accomplished, I can send in a proposal. (a proposal is a good thing to be asked for in the publishing world!)

I talked more with that agent throughout the rest of the conference. They even knew of a freelance editor who would be available to read Aura Lea for me. So, all that said, I am walking away from the conference very encouraged and excited about what is to come. I keep trusting God that he has the best for me and that he knows exactly what he's doing. I just have to wait and see.

Emily

Allison

 A year wished away is forever gone

A day wasted on worry can never be undone

An hour spent fussing over nonsense cannot be regained

A moment spent in silence is of more use than another spent spewing useless talk

A second of hesitation could save you a lifetime of regret

Have I thought my intentions through?

Will I regret them in some later year?

My heart pangs violently with anticipation. 

My future is before me, 

My past is behind.

The person I will become depends on me alone. 

Are the choices I have made wise?

Dear LORD, I pray that they are so!

Christian Teen Writers

I started going to Mt. Hermon two years ago. I was a Junior in High School and rather obsessive about my writing (actually, I was a terrible writer at the time, but that's not the point). The POINT I'm trying to make is that I learned so much while I was there. But after the conference, I felt like I needed to do something with the wealth of information I acquired. That's when "Christian Teen Writers" took shape.

I don't really know if I still fit into the category of a teen writer because for technicality's sake, I'm no longer a minor, but still, I continue to post to this facebook page I created. It's really easy to find actually, https://www.facebook.com/ChristianTeenWriters 

I've been posting to the page for a while, sharing what I call,  "writer funnies" and other pits of information on how to "write well." Most teen writers just don't get that very much - information of writing. It's just something to do after school gets out. There's no rhyme or reason to the writing. Sadly, this doesn't promote a very good environment for "good writing."

Part of me is extremely hopeful that teen writers will take advantage of this page and learn. I had to go to a conference to learn all the things I post about. The fact that I can share all of my information freely is quite amazing.

So there you have it Teen Writers! I encourage you and implore you to learn. Getting published is such an incredible dream to have, but not impossible. Learn all you can about how to write well so that agents and editors can't help but want to pick up your writing!

Hugs!

Emily

Some of you might be familiar with the books I have written on my Swedish heritage. Others might not. If that is the case, let me update you on my writings.

Only a few years ago, I worked on a series about the Hansson family - primarily Astrid, Lucia, and Christin. These stories are complete and should be available on Amazon soon. (Astrid's story is already available). These stories cover Swedes living in America and making a home for themselves on new soil, learning a new language, and conquering the difficulties that arise.

But since I told their stories, I moved on to start telling of the American Gold Rush in California. You may have read my blog and heard things about that story. Well, it's been told... that is to say, it's a very big file on my computer. But I don't think I'm quite through with the Gold Rush, and neither am I through with Swedish fiction. In my most recent story, I am endeavoring to do both.

In my story on the Gold Rush, I worked to tell about the Hydraulic Mining that happened in North Bloomfield. I haven't ventured so far from North Bloomfield just yet, but I have traveled about a "day's journey" to Grass Valley and Nevada City to tell the story of a family who owns an underground mine there. But not just about that family, but about one of the girls who works for them in their household.

I really hesitate to say much more than that... but I am excited to someday show you this story and take you back in time to the turn of the century and show you about life then for an affluent family in the days of mining and their servants and employees.

And so, I'm going to leave you with a song... a very melancholy one, but maybe later I can explain it's relevance.
  
When I was on my eighteenth year
There were a beautiful boy that I liked
Him I wanted to own forever. 
But this my thought was soon to disapear
There was anouther girl who was put into his arms. 
Her he likens to a rosy flower.

Though I have treasured my father and mother dearly
as well as siblings and friends who have loved me here
this love surpasses them all
Thank you for being my sole consolation 
and thank you for all the times I’ve rested on your chest. 
In heaven shall we be united again

The song...

the stories I have been working on for North Bloomfield are revolve around the ballads of America. Many songs truly describe America's heart, but others are purely sweet sounding. Aura Lee, the song used in Allison and Ian's story is one such song. Currently, I am using the song, "Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms" to tell another character's story, but Aura Lee is all you're going to get right now.

When the blackbird in the Spring,

'On the willow tree,

Sat and rocked, I heard him sing,

Sing Aura Lee.

Aura Lee, Aura Lee,

Maid with golden hair;

Sunshine came along with thee,

And swallows in the air.

Chorus:

Aura Lee, Aura Lee,

Maid with golden hair;

Sunshine came along with thee,

And swallows in the air.

In thy blush the rose was born,

Music, when you spake,

Through thine azure eye the morn,

Sparkling seemed to break.

Aura Lee, Aura Lee,

Birds of crimson wing,

Never song have sung to me,

As in that sweet spring.

(Chorus)

Aura Lee! the bird may flee,

The willow's golden hair

Swing through winter fitfully,

On the stormy air.

Yet if thy blue eyes I see,

Gloom will soon depart;

For to me, sweet Aura Lee

Is sunshine through the heart.

(Chorus)

When the mistletoe was green,

Midst the winter's snows,

Sunshine in thy face was seen,

Kissing lips of rose.

Aura Lee, Aura Lee,

Take my golden ring;

Love and light return with thee,

And swallows with the spring.

(Chorus)

Aura Lee

Very little has been said about Aura Lee (the story of Allison and Ian) for quite some time. I've loaded you up with information about North Bloomfield and Nevada City etc. But I really haven't updated you on the story. To start off, let me say that any of the short, diary-like entries are no longer relevant to the current story. It has changed and evolved rather drastically over the last year. And I must admit, that unless you are on my list of close friends who get to check for plot problems and typos... I'm not going to give anything away. What you are allowed to know is that the story is about Allison Tisdale and Ian McConnell and takes place in North Bloomfield, California. That's it.

Now for the real reason why I finally chose to say something about the story... I have exciting news =) Very exciting news. Here it is... I FINISHED. The rough draft is completely done.

So there you have it... that's my news and that's what's happening in my story. Even more recently though, I've starting telling Abby Kramer's Cinderella-type story with Allison's brother, Brenton Tisdale.

So, I'll say it again... that's all you get =) have a nice summer. I'm sure I'll post some other things before I take off for college in August. And even after that, I'll make sure you know what's happening with my writing. lol. okay, I'm done.

God Bless.

Emily

Excited!!!

Just recieved my proof copy of "His Sweet Christin" in the mail a few days ago and I've already gotten to making sure its all ready to make available. If you've already read "Into Astrid's Heart," you've met Vilmar Hansson, Astrid's cousin. Vilmar met a young handicapped girl while he was primary school and she quickly became his best friend. "His Sweet Christin" is Vilmar's story. Get to know Astrid and Gabriel even better through this new story. I hope you come to love these new - or not so new - characters once I release "His Sweet Christin" on Amazon.

Happy reading,

Emily

--
Philippians 1:4-6

In case you've all been wondering, I like to play with GIMP (similar to photoshop - but I like GIMP better) and one of the things I do on my down days is wonder what my book covers would look like if I actually published them through a publishing company who assigned an artist to design them. I'm thinking that they would look an awful lot like this...

I just thought you might like to see a bit of what goes through my head regarding my books. Now, if you're wondering when you can read these books, I will tell you that His Sweet Christin will be offered by special order after the new year. Enjoy!

Emily

His Sweet Christin

I just got my wisdom teeth out... ironically, they do not give me the wisdom to write novels. But with them out, I haven't gained any wisdom either.

Over the past few days, I have written very little, but I have suffered a bit of writers' block lately in the first place. A sore mouth hasn't helped. But in spite of a lack of writing ability, I have managed to get back to work on an early piece. Do you recall my "Spring Valley Girls" series? I published "Into Astrid's Heart" some time ago, and recently, I have gotten back to working on "His Sweet Christin." Forgive me that I have skipped "Lucia's Story." That manuscript is finished, but I have decided to publish it following this one because of the timeline of the stories. Lucia's Story overlaps Into Astrid's Heart as well as His Sweet Christin.

I truly hope that you enjoy His Sweet Christin one it is available on amazon. look for it by the beginning of the new year!

Emily