I don’t even know how to begin this post. It’s been so long since I blogged that I almost forgot how to log into my site.

I’ve had several people ask me why I haven’t been blogging. I love and appreciate that anyone actually cares. The easy answer to that question… and please don’t tag me as being super spiritual… I just haven’t felt led here.

There are days when I have actually sit down to blog–to apologize for my absence and share something of worth here.

And then, so clearly and firmly, the Lord leads me in another direction.

Think I’m crazy if you want. It does sound a little crazy. Why would the Lord care if I’m blogging or not blogging? Well, I think He cares deeply about how we spend our time. And I was spending a lot of my time blogging while neglecting a project and purpose HE put in my heart.

I’m deep into my next novel, and still praying every single day that somehow, someway, God blesses the first one with publication. It’s easy to believe that the world has forgotten about me… that the publishing world is impossible to break into… that because it hasn’t happened yet, it won’t.

But the truth is… my life isn’t in the hands of a literary agent. Or a publishing house. If the creator of the universe chooses to do something with my writing, He’ll do something with my writing. The waiting is killer. And the struggle to be positive even more impossible. But if I believe that book isn’t about me, but rather the One who gave it to me, how then could I doubt its possibilities?

What I could use from you? Prayers! Please pray for God’s hand on my writing.  That none of it is mine and all of it is His. That I wouldn’t lose heart or lose hope. That I’ll be patient and wait on Him. That I’ll have the fortitude to stand whatever criticisms and setbacks come my way. Because they will come.

So I’m not giving up on this blog. I’m just working on other things… bigger things… for now anyway.

If I’m being 100% honest, I always question myself whenever I think I hear from God. “Was that me? Or was that really God? Am I making this up? How can I know for sure?” I tell Him all the time things would be a whole lot easier if He would just speak with me like He spoke with Abraham or Noah. (But then again, that would probably totally freak me out.) But even if I just sorta THINK I’m hearing from Him, I want to be obedient. I’m not gonna risk it. I want to do His will. Not mine.

And so… I’m digging in to finish this novel.

If you’re interested in keeping up with my life and my family’s daily chaos, I tweet! A lot. You can follow me at twitter.com/ang_slaughter.

See you soon.

Yesterday, a little black butterfly was flitting all over our backyard.

Once Jeb noticed, he became obsessed with catching it and proceeded to chase it non-stop until his little cheeks were beet red.

After wearing himself out with no result, he got very discouraged and gave up the chase near tears and with a pitiful pout on his face.

Matt and I had been watching all the activity from the porch, and I, for one, had been thoroughly entertained.

But then all of a sudden Matt yells to Jeb, “Just stand still, Buddy! Be really still and see if he’ll come to you.”

I thought it was the dumbest suggestion I had ever heard.

Until, only a few minutes later, this happened. (Keep your eye on his left hand.)

Did you catch the look on his little face? Absolute pure joy.

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My husband gave me the best early Christmas present yesterday.

He took the manuscript of my completed novel and had it bound as a hardback. THEN he had a jacket cover designed and handed it all to me yesterday.

It’s not Thursday, but I’ll keep it real for y’all.

I lost it. And not it a good way.

My poor poor husband whose thoughtfulness and amazingness is unrivaled stood in shock as his wife crumbled into a wailing mess.

All I could think was, I’m such a loser. I can’t get a book published, so my sweet husband has to give me a fake book. (That’s what I called it, by the way, a “fake” book.) I cried. And cried. And cried. And asked God for the hundredth time why He gave me this story if the only place it’s going is in a file on my computer.

I was a mess for a good 45 minutes.

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I found this picture a few months ago and was inspired.

Shoe polish art.

The area around my computer and work space is anything but inspired. It’s bare, actually.

So, yesterday, I decided to see if I could create my own inspiration. With shoe polish. And a canvas.

I already had a wood frame Matt made me several years ago. I had covered it with pretty fabric to fill a blank space on my wall, but tired of it quickly. It sat in my garage for over a year.

I went to Lowe’s and bought a canvas drop cloth in the painting aisle for $5 and some change, came home, and used a staple gun to attach it to the wood frame.

Then, the fun part. I broke out my shoe polish.

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Back in December or January, Michael Hyatt, Chairman and CEO of Thomas Nelson Publishers tweeted about a writing contest sponsored by Women of Faith and WestBow Press. When I told Matt about it, he encouraged me (i.e. gave me no choice but) to enter my novel.

Today, while in Wal-Mart of all places, I received notification that out of almost 750 entrants, I am one of 30 finalists. I will neither confirm or deny that I stopped and cried in the produce aisle.

I stalked some of the other authors listed.  I am out-leagued. But honored.  You can click here to check it out.

On much more important fronts….

Please be sure to check Pat and Sarah’s blog tonight. Pat gives an update about their consultation in Houston. Start praying right now for March 2nd. We have big faith in a big God.

Tonight we celebrated Owen’s second birthday at Fun City Pizza.  The little dude had a ball.  I know his mommy and daddy can’t wait to get their hands on him.

March 2nd, People.  Mark your calendars. And pray.

Wow. Another Christmas in the books. This past week has been a whirlwind of events and places and people, and I’m grateful for all of it. This year was extraordinarily special. I hope to talk about that soon. Stay tuned….

The Slaughter kids were overwhelmed with gifts, and I have tons of pictures of their happy little faces as they tear into packages. But I wanted to share one of my favorite gifts.

This may just be the most thoughtful gift Matt Slaughter has ever given me. I love it so much I can’t even begin to explain.

A jar filled with lightening bugs that light up and flicker.

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Well, it happened.

I feel like I am now part of a club. The Rejected Writers Club.

Yes, I received my very first rejection letter. (Wah. Wah. Waaaaaaaaaaaah.)

I had only sent a proposal, not my actual manuscript. (In case you didn’t know, NO ONE will accept an actual manuscript. NO. ONE.) And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a good proposal. Still, it stung a little. For maybe half an hour I had a little knot in my throat. No tears. Just a knot. I didn’t call anyone. I just sat by myself in my car (I was on my way somewhere when I got the email) and let it all sink in.

It hurt to be rejected. Even though it wasn’t my actual manuscript they were rejecting, it hurt. But at the same time, I felt like I had cleared my first hurdle. I was rejected. And I lived through it. And at the same time, I joined an elite group of novelists who had received similar letters and lived to tell the tale.

I think I read somewhere that John Grisham was rejected by sixteen publishers before finally being signed. That is just crazy to me. How could anyone reject A Time To Kill? I’m a hardcore Grisham fan, so I may be a bit biased. But A Time to Kill is like… un-rejectable. It’s beautiful and brilliant, and I can’t begin to fathom someone thinking otherwise. (more…)

Novel update…. I have only sent a proposal out to one agent and one publishing house. I know. It’s not very aggressive. But I just want it all to be ‘right’. And strangely enough, I’m not stressing. If the One who gave this to me wants to give it to others, He will… in His time. No need to stress.

I have asked only five people to read my manuscript, four of which are related to me. And the other I have never met (in person) but to whom am so very grateful. (Have I said ‘thank you’ today, M? Thank you.) The reviews have been more than I expected, and I am grateful and hopeful. (Did I mention four of them were related to me?) All that said… I am pursuing publication, and hope I realize that goal very soon. As always, prayers are longed for.

As I have been thinking through and working on publication avenues of the book I’m calling (for now) A View from There, I’ve been praying for Him to give me a new story to tell. Praying hard. And the answer…. a big fat NOTHING. A few times I thought I had something, then trashed it. And so I prayed more. But not even a glimmer of a storyline came by way. Not a theme. NOTHING. Until last week. (more…)

I am doing a study with Matt on Wednesday nights called, “In the Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day.” It’s a book by a guy named Mark Batterson, and it’s been rocking my world. It’s based around 2 Samuel 23: 20.

There was also Benaiah son of Jehoiada, a valiant warrior from Kabzeel. (I can’t say those names either.) He did many heroic deeds, which included killing two of Moab’s mightiest warriors. Another time he chased a lion down into a pit. Then, despite the snow and slippery ground, he caught the lion and killed it.”

Now have you ever once heard that verse? ME EITHER! (Sorry. Irrelevant.) (more…)

There is a character in my book, a young girl named Beulah Two, who believes she sees angels. Real live ones. I won’t spoil the fun and tell you if she does or not. Here’s a quick excerpt:

Beulah Two lay on her back in a patch of dead grass behind her grandmother’s home. She watched two white, fluffy clouds float side by side for a moment, then converge into a heap, forming what Beulah Two thought looked just like a giant ice cream cone. She loved cloud watching, and today was perfect for it. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, and the clouds were thick like the meringue she helped her grandmother make for pies. They swirled about, coming together, breaking away. They made elephants, clowns, whales, trees, sailboats, teddy bears, and even a castle that split down the middle, its halves forming two dancing birds. Then she saw him. Next to one of the birds. A face, a body, two powerful wings. Finally. She waved to him, satisfied, and fell asleep. (more…)