A Mountain of Mist

One night I was driving to a meeting. On the horizon, I saw mountain peaks.

In my rather muddled state, I wondered when a mountain range had developed to the north of Minneapolis.

Minnesota is a beautiful state, but we don’t have towering mountains. Yet as I gazed down a street purple mountain’s majesty rose in the distance.

When my brain caught up with my senses, I figured out that I was looking at a thick bank of clouds, in the triangular shape of mountains – dark enough to contrast with the dusky sky and create the illusion of the Rockies transplanted to my neighborhood.

It made me wonder about how many of the mountains that seem to bar my way are mere mist. From the distance they look sturdy, powerful, daunting. But if I wait awhile, a strong wind will blow them away.

Maybe I’d have more faith to move mountains if my vision were clearer and I saw some of those mountains for what they really are.

Lord, open our eyes.

Blessings,
Sharon Hinck

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Interview with Cameron Banks – Composer

Today I’m welcoming Cameron Banks to my blog, a talented young composer who created the music for the back-of-the-book extras in The Deliverer.

Cameron will also be one of the judges in the “Song of Lyric Contest” and will compose the music for the winner.

Cameron, I was blown away by your powerful choral arrangement of the song for The Deliverer. Could you let the readers know how it came about that you wrote this?

Late in the Fall of 2012, I had received the poem, “Day of the One,” and I was hooked to the words. They flowed like lyrics to me from the very first time I read this poem. I began to try many different melodic lines to fit the pictures the poem created. All in all, it took many hours to compile the endless ideas and bits of music when I realized that I had been approaching this poem from the wrong perspective. I had been too focused on the picturesque lyrics of animals and mentions of landscapes when this poem was meant to focus on our Deliverer, Christ Jesus. I sat down for a few minutes to regain composure, and I began to write. Instead of limiting myself to one or two melodic lines, I wrote the piece of what I heard in mind when I read it.

Tell us a little bit about your background as a musician:

Ever since I was young boy, I was fond of music. How pieces of brass, wood, and plastics could make pleasant, beautiful sounds really interested me. I took piano lessons for a few years until I began band. By the time I was in high school, I loved learning new instruments. Before and after school, I would sneak into the music room and try out all different kinds of instruments. I began to read books and look up how to repair instruments. I grew fond of composing once I started singing in the choir my senior year of high school. I had already known the beauty of the different colorful chords that instruments could make but I had no idea that the human voice could do that as well.

While performing at Concordia University in the top college Wind Symphony and a semester with the Kapelle choir, I began learning about the complexities of music theory, counterpoint, and how to compose music from the basic level. I grew fond of composing music early on and even began “breaking certain rules” since I thought,  “Hey, the greatest composers got to so why couldn’t we?” Not too many of my professors were always fond of me breaking the rules, but hey, it was the best defense I had and I still laugh about it. Today, I still compose both choral and instrumental music but nowadays, I am fond of teaching music and providing my students opportunities to show off their love and appreciation using music to glorify God.

When you compose music, does it flood you in a delirious wave (like Handel’s experience in writing The Messiah), or do you battle for each deliberate note? What is the creative process like for you?

If I had to choose, I would say music comes to me like a flood than a battle. Not to sound vain but I feel that composing music comes to me naturally. I don’t really spend too much time “battling” each note except for maybe when I’m putting the final touches on my music. If I’m working on chord structure to create a harmonious picture of what I’m writing about, then I would be a little bit more deliberate in my note choice.

In the creative process,  I always begin with the ending. In order to begin a piece, you must know two things: 1) How the music ends, and 2) Where the destination from the beginning notes will take you. Excluding multiple movement works, music must have an ending but also must create the desire for wanting more of the music. In a culture where we live in always desiring more than what we want, the only thing I embrace in this ideology is the want for music. There’s so much creativity in all of us and I know that God has given us the ability to be people of individual creativity that unites us as inspirational, intuitive beings. In my life, music is that creative focal point. Music composition and performance are my creative outlet.

How does your faith inform your art? Any advice for artists, writers, and composers?

Faith informs my music through the simple fact that God has blessed us with individualized talents. These talents cannot be replicated exactly as another’s, and music is God’s way of providing us His message with and even without words. It stands to say that God does things that we cannot comprehend sometimes, and His reason and our reason are different. Most of the music I have written can and should be considered sacred music because I feel that there is a deeper message than us as imperfect, incompetent beings.

I also feel the need to include Matthew 28:19-20, the “Great Commission,” in composing music because aren’t we His chosen people to be missionaries of His Word? He has instructed us through the teachings in the Word and now has blessed us with the promise of eternal life. As the great J.S. Bach wrote, “He who relies on Jesus Christ, Heaven shall be his most surely.” Thus, my purpose for composing music is to be informed through Christ, the anointed one, and until the Day of the One has come, we will continue our praises in heaven ours most surely.

My advice for artists, writers, and composers is to never give up on an unfinished project. No composer, artist, or writer has ever been satisfied with even close to 100% of their original works, personal transcriptions or adaptations, or even their commissioned pieces. It is easier to give up than strive towards the obtainable goal. Always set yourself reasonable goals and expectations. Inspiration and innovation takes time and a lot of small, well-detailed and planned goals. I also say to never settle for acceptable but don’t make perfectionism take over your happiness and joy of creating. Each and every day is a new opportunity to learn, to be inspired, and to focus on how God has blessed your life even in the smallest ways. This little lesson can be used for life-living as well.

Thanks so much, Cameron! It’s a joy visiting with you.
His,
Sharon Hinck

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Bonus Scene 7 – The Restorer

After Chapter 24

Cameron:

Below my window, bedraggled people from a variety of clans made their way toward the tower. Drumbeats carried from the end of the street. I would normally put in my appearance along with other prominent leaders. But everyone’s preoccupation with the gathering provided a perfect time to begin my greatest project—transforming the records.

I turned to Medea. “Wait here.”

She nodded vacantly, tracing her hands along the smooth limestone wall of my office, staring at something I couldn’t see. Had she heard me? Lately, I was often uncertain. While she possessed the power and brilliance of a hundred magchips, she was also as unreliable as a shorting connection.

Rationality flickered on and off and in her, but that only added to my fascination. Besides, my plans relied on her help, and her abilities were breathtaking to watch.

I shook my head and hurried down to the lower levels. All the more reason to make the changes to the records. That alone would finally free me to pursue my agenda to strengthen the clans.
Our clans were stuck—trapped—by extreme adherence to the outdated Records that kept us from competing with the nations around us in weapons’ progress. If those stubborn old songkeepers were more willing to compromise, I wouldn’t have had to take such drastic steps.

Surely the One who watched our clans also understood my choices. After all, He had appointed the Council to protect the people, and that’s exactly what I was doing.

My heart pounded against my temples as I made my way down the dark hall to the hiding place. So close at last. Seasons of planning and effort, and finally my greatest achievement as Chief Councilmember was within my grasp.

I paused to be sure no footsteps echoed on the stairs behind me. No one was following. I brought up the lightwall and stepped toward the alcove.

Empty. The Records I’d collected and hidden had disappeared.

Fear wrapped insidiously into my thoughts. Could the old stories be true? Were the Records really linked to the One’s tangible presence in some way? Had He taken back the Records I’d so carefully collected?

I choked back a laugh. Ridiculous. I forced my pulse to slow to match the throbbing drums that murmured in the distance. There was only one explanation, and it wasn’t a supernatural one. Tristan.

He’d been in Braide Wood when my men had arrived to take the records. He would have understood the implications. But would he have dared to disobey the Council’s orders for him to report to the River Border? Angry as I was at the missing Records, grim satisfaction built in my chest. Tristan didn’t deserve to be a guardian. I’d tried to prove that to the Council, but each effort had failed. But if he’d ignored their direct orders, I’d finally have what I needed to destroy him. Especially when combined with the evidence that addle-witted Susan had provided.

I took the stairs two at a time and rushed back into my office.

Medea spun slowly in the center of the room, her chin tilting up and hair spilling down her back. Her skirt flared around her ankles as she turned again and again.

“We have a problem,” I said.

She kept spinning, but a smile lit her face. “Oh, good. Puzzles are lovely.”

I touched her shoulder, and she slowed, finishing her turn to face me. “The Records are gone,” I said.
 “But we can use this. I’ll need your help at the Council meeting. Are you ready?”

She pulled a dagger from her boot sheath and smiled. “I’m very ready.”

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Yield

I don’t always like the concept of yielding when I’m driving.
I don’t like it in life, either.

God and I have had long talks about my problem with yielding to Him.

As a writer, I’ve discovered areas of the work where I have no control: the decision by a publisher to offer a contract, the number of copies that sell, and the opinions of others about the book.

Yield.

God whispers it to me.

Let go of your need to convince everyone to like you. Stand strong in my pronouncement that you are my beloved child. Stop believing you will shatter and die when someone is unhappy, disappointed, or angry with you.

Yield control of something you really never had control over in the first place.

My heart answers, “Yes.”

Is God whispering to you to merge more deeply into Him? Does it require yielding . . . a giving way?

Lord, give all of us the courage today to yield to your grace and tender love for us. Help us give way where you are nudging certain attitudes and actions out of our lives.
Amen.

Sharon Hinck

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Sneak Peek – The Deliverer

–>

“The spires of the city of Lyric sang of beauty that was still close to the source of all artistry. The forest around Braide Wood refreshed wanderers with the scent of pine and honey-spice. The Grey Hills in their haunting sadness still murmured of hope and opened my heart to vastness as they stretched into the horizon. Even the harsh granite of Hazor stirred boldness and vigor.”
—Susan in The Deliverer by Sharon Hinck


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Song of First Light

Just a reminder – if you’re planning on submitting lyrics for the “Song of Lyric” contest, send them soon so there is time to post them to my blog in May. The entries will be sent to the judging panel on May 31st.

While you wait, you can listen to the music for Song of First Light from The Restorer.

Just visit my multi-media page, scroll down, and find the button for the song.

Enjoy! And whether or not you write songs, I pray you’ll make music in your heart today.

Blessings,
Sharon Hinck

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Bonus Scene 6 – The Restorer

After Chapter 21

Wade’s efforts to protect Susan when she’s taken to Lyric

Wade:

The transport pulled out, and I caught a glimpse of Susan’s face through the window. Terror creased her brow. The fear in her eyes was almost worse than when Tristan had first introduced her to us at Ferntwine. I paced. When would the next transport arrive? The schedule would be off because of the Council guard commandeering it.

Finally, I settled onto a tree stump, got out my whetstone, and sharpened my blade. Tristan drummed it into all of us that the simple disciplines made a guardian effective. The stone scraped along steel in a comforting rhythm.

Straightforward dangers are fine. It’s why I became a guardian. Innocent people need defending. I certainly don’t have the brains to be a builder or transtech, or the leadership to be on the Council, or the ear to hear from the One like the songkeepers. Put a sword in my hand and point me in the right direction—that’s all I need. But in the last few seasons, the situation in the clans had grown as muddy as the clay pits near Shamgar.

Turning my sword, I worked the second edge. First Tristan had disappeared and the Council had started asking questions. Then Susan had come along, igniting questions about Restorers—an idea partly exciting but mostly confusing, especially since she wasn’t what the clans needed and didn’t at all fit the sort of protector that the One promised.

Then more Rhusicans were allowed to roam about the clans. As if Kendra’s experiences weren’t warning enough. And somehow, one of them had even gotten his twisted fingers into my skull. I shivered and lifted my sword, sighting down the edge. Still straight and true. At least my sword was reliable.

Sometimes it seemed like the whole world was shaking to its very foundations. Too much going wrong in too many ways. And today one of the Council Guard had taken the Braide Wood Records. His explanation about consolidating them in Lyric hadn’t calmed Lukyan. I’d never seen the old songkeeper that upset before. I had run to warn Tristan, but that had only led Case and the others to him. Now Tristan had given me one simple task, and I’d already failed.

The sky moved toward a midday glow before the next transport pulled up. I bounded on board. I would have gotten out and pushed if my efforts would have helped move it faster. But I eventually reached the Lyric stop. The next challenge was to figure out where Case had brought Susan once they’d reached Lyric. They’d said the Council wanted to meet with her, so I strode quickly to the Council tower. I needed someone like Kieran. He could talk people in circles and confuse them enough to get past.

One of the Council guards was someone I’d trained with when I was a first-year, so I decided on a direct approach. “Well met! Haven’t seen you in a while. How has your posting in Lyric been treating you?”

He didn’t relax from his stiff posture at the door, but he grinned. “Not bad. How is everything back in Braide Wood? What brings you to Lyric?”

“An assignment from my captain. I need to find Case. Have you seen him?”

He gave a tight nod. “Yesterday. He’s here often. Haven’t seen him today, though.”

“All right. Thanks. Maybe someone inside can help me.” I squeezed past him without waiting for an answer.

Every time I’d been in the Council tower, my collar felt too tight and my boots too dusty. I ignored the slickly dressed, important-looking people moving along the halls and made my way to the Braide Wood council office.

No one had heard of Susan or the orders to bring her to Lyric. And the junior council member who talked to me made me feel like I was an annoyance who was wasting her time. Why couldn’t I have been given a straightforward assignment? Like patrolling the River Borders with Dylan.
Thinking of Dylan reminded me of Linette. She spent a lot of time in Lyric, preparing for the large Gatherings. She might have what I needed—some wisdom about my next step. I headed for the worship tower.

Lukyan would be proud of me. When I was a pup, he used to smile and tell us all, “When in doubt, go to the One.” I sure hoped the One, or at least his songkeeper, would have an idea about where I should look next.

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The Joy of Waiting

Since there aren’t any new submissions for the “Song of Lyric” contest to post today, I decided to pull up something I wrote TEN YEARS AGO (whew!!!) about the writing life. I think perhaps at that time, I was waiting for news about whether a publisher wanted “The Restorer.”

The Joy of Waiting

Last week, I began composing a list of the good things about being a writer. Since I tend to get cranky and melancholy, I figured I needed a reminder of what I should be grateful for.

1. I can work in my pajamas
2. I can take a notebook and pen for a hike in the woods and work in beautiful settings
3. I sometimes get free books to review or endorse
4. I’ve met the best, most amazing people
5. I get to practice waiting.

Okay, that last one wasn’t on my list. Being a writer involves a tortuous amount of waiting. Nail-biting while waiting for an agent’s opinion on my latest idea. Pacing while hoping for news from my editor on whether my manuscript has potential. Checking emails obsessively to see what my critique partners thought of a recent chapter.

Last week, I read a chapter in Marlene Bagnull’s wonderful book, Write His Answer. She wrote about waiting expectantly, productively, and patiently.

My vivid imagination jumps to worst-case scenarios when I’m waiting. “The publisher will finally catch on that I don’t know what I’m doing and reject my new proposal. The editors are sitting around laughing at my clumsy prose.”

So, in an effort to wait expectantly, I worked on expecting God’s good surprises . . . whatever shape they might take. Once when the phone rang, I even thought, “That could be my agent calling with a contract offer.” Amazing how much more fun my writing became when I shushed the negative assumptions.

Waiting productively isn’t difficult for me. As a recovering workaholic, I comfort my anxiety by working. So I kept writing during my weeks of waiting for news on a new project. And I also asked God to make the time productive in other ways. Strengthening relationships, caring for physical health, studying and improving my skills.

Patiently? Well, that’s another story. I’m the kind of person who is so desperate to see what’s around the next corner I barely notice the street I’m on at the moment. But God was providing me a chance to practice. To remind myself that His timing is spot on. To acknowledge that most of life happens BETWEEN desired events, so I better embrace the between times.

One of the joys of being a writer really IS the experience of waiting. Writing chapter after chapter with uncertainty about whether it will be published. Revising manuscripts that might never be read. Trusting that God has called me to this path. Every day is raw and frightening and blazing with potential. And that propels me straight into God’s arms.

And that’s another one of the joys of writing.

Blessings!
Sharon Hinck

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Mammoth Self-Doubts?

I told a friend today that I was having mammoth self-doubts.

A picture sprang to mind of a huge, furry, snaggle-tusked mammoth, tearing through the garden of my dreams and hopes.

Writers often get visits from this wooly creature, so I’ve tried to learn not to panic when it thunders in for a chat. Instead, when it waggles its tusks in my direction, I’m reminded to run to Jesus.

“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.” – Psalm 20:7

Let’s not rely on the chariots of our own skills and human effort (apart from Him), or the horses of approval from others. And let’s not be trampled by the mammoth reasons to give up. Let’s simply trust in the name of the Lord of God and take the next step forward.

Do you ever struggle with mammoth doubts? What verses help you at those times?

Blessings,
Sharon Hinck

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A Word Fitly Spoken

“A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver.” 
Proverbs 25:11 (ESV)

I just got home from renewing my drivers license. I don’t know many people who enjoy spending time at the DMV, and today a sign warned of unusually long wait times.

While filling out my form, I watched the women behind the counter interact with each person. They complimented babies, they noticed similar birthdays, they chatted about the weather.

They found common ground.

Laughter, smiles, and patience circulated the room because of their warmth and kind words.

Their example made me resolve to think about the reception I give each stranger I encounter. Can I find some common ground? Can I stir a smile?

Where ever your day takes you, may you both hear and share words set in silver!

Sharon Hinck


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