Showing posts with label Cynthia Rutchi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cynthia Rutchi. Show all posts

Thursday, June 4, 2015

by Cynthia Ruchti

Abingdon Press, May 2015
Seven years ago, I didn’t know how to answer people who asked me, “Why aren’t you published yet?”

“Nobody wants me” didn’t sound like a professional answer. Neither did, “I don’t have this figured out yet.”

The truth was I’d been writing professionally for more than 25 years for a daily scripted radio broadcast. I’d had magazine articles published and wrote for a monthly newspaper column. I’d attended writers’ conferences and taken online courses and practiced, practiced, practiced.

By that time, I had completed three novel manuscripts and collected ideas for half a dozen more. I’d networked, studied, pitched, entered contests for the unpublished, finaled, and prayed.

The one thing I hadn’t done was quit. But don’t think I wasn’t tempted. In fact, in 2008, I almost did. And I thought my quitting was noble. I prayed, “God, nothing’s happening here. If You don’t want me to pursue publishing a novel—or many novels—then I will lay it down. This is too much work and takes too much time if Your Hand isn’t in this. I’d rather give up my heart’s desire than disappoint You. So, tell me. Show me. If this pursuit pleases You, Lord, I’m all in, no matter what it costs. But I need You to show me.”

He did.

 A month later, I had a book contract and my dream agent.

One would think all my writerly concerns would be over after that kind of direct answer to prayer. I wonder what I might have done if I’d known I’d signed up for a fresh batch of concerns, some of them larger than any I’d known before.

In that quiet way God has of shouting profound truths to our souls, I’d “heard” Him tell me long ago that if I would persevere, He would respond. It sounded like this: “If you will press through, I will bless you.”

Backed into a corner, up against a wall of doubts, facing what looked like insurmountable obstacles, or the collapse of an idea, I’d hear that nugget of divine poetry. If you will press through, I will bless you. 

Soon it became routine—a soul-fortifying routine—to press through. Blessing lay on the other side of perseverance. The stories would fill many books. And maybe will, before I’m done with my writing assignments from Him.

 I was notified of a new review the other day and popped over to the blogger’s site for what I thought would be encouragement to start my workday. It was a reviewer who had read other books I’d written and enjoyed them. This particular book, however, she did not enjoy. And she said so publicly, which she has every right to do.

Those who commented on her blog said things like, “So glad you warned me not to buy that book.”

“Thanks for the heads up. If you didn’t like, I wouldn’t either.”

“You just saved me time and money. Thanks.”

Not what an author wants to hear. I allowed myself a brief moment to mourn the review that not only wasn’t positive but had influenced others to run for the hills if they see a book with my name on it.

What else could I do then but press on? I had deadlines to meet, other books to connect with readers waiting for them, articles to write. And extended grieving over a bad review is injurious to health. So I pressed on.

Within minutes—no exaggeration—I was alerted to another review. You can imagine how hesitant I was to take a look. Same book. Completely opposite reaction to the story. Mourning minutes earlier, I was now laughing at God’s sense of humor in so quickly bringing me past the “press through” part to the “bless you” part.

Within an hour, I’d gotten a phone call that made the word blessing seem inadequate.

 It was no mistake that I was led to write on this subject. I needed the reminder as much as anyone else. So much of the writing life depends on perseverance, overcoming, clinging to the Overcomer, wading through the “press through” to get to the “bless you.” With that, I’ll say thank you for spending these moments with me and go back to pressing through on the edits for my fifteenth book.

Cynthia Ruchti tells stories hemmed in hope through her novels, novellas, nonfiction books and devotionals, drawing from 33 years of on-air radio ministry. Ruchti has 15 books in print and has received numerous awards and nominations. She serves as the professional relations liaison for American Christian Fiction Writers and speaks frequently for women’s groups and serves on her church’s worship team and Creative Arts team. She and her plot-tweaking husband live in the heart of Wisconsin, not far from their three children and five grandchildren. To keep up with Cynthia Ruchti, visit www.cynthiaruchti.com. You can also become a fan on Facebook (CynthiaRuchtiReaderPage) or follow her on Twitter (@cynthiaruchti).

Monday, June 1, 2015

Abingdon Press, May 2015
by Cynthia Ruchti

A funny/not-so-funny moment occurred while I was writing As Waters Gone By. I needed a detail of
information regarding a potential prison sentence for a person who accidentally injured someone significantly, someone without family. I also needed details about visiting the incarcerated in a specific state prison.

My mind said, “Easy. I’ll ask one of the felons I know.”

Those are words I never imagined saying. I could have said, “I’ll ask one of the felons I love.”

Both my brother-in-law and two friends from church are open about the crimes that gave them more than enough experience with the legal system. They’re changed men, walking a path well-lit by God’s grace and their families’ forgiveness. But they’re still paying the penalty for what they’ve done.

I lived more than five decades without seeing the inside of a courtroom, without watching someone I love in the court news on television. I would gladly have skipped those experiences. But they birthed in me empathy and compassion I’d lacked before.

It’s heartbreaking to know more than I ever wanted to about the prison system, the justice system, and what incarceration can do to families. The embarrassment and consequences linger long after forgiveness.

 Like many law-abiding citizens, I’d held preconceived ideas about those who find themselves in trouble. I saw only the crime and not the person behind it, or the family behind that person. I saw punishment but missed the application of grace and the power of redemption.

Now that I’ve seen them at work in people I know, now that I’ve felt the blows of societal shame and the injustices family members of the incarcerated bear, my heart is rearranged. My empathy for victims can remain strong and steady, even while expressing compassion for the perpetrator.

That’s one of the reasons I wanted to tell Emmalyn and Max’s story in As Waters Gone By. The prison visitation scene came from my sister’s experience. The dropped phone calls. The long stretches with no contact. The reality that a prisoner’s release date isn’t the end of their emotional incarceration…or their family’s.

I’d lived under the assumption that my default setting was to love as Jesus loved. It wasn’t until imprisonment hit closer to home that I began to understand a shade more of what He meant when He said, “I was in prison, and you visited me” (Matthew 25:37).

Still learning.

Cynthia Ruchti
Cynthia Ruchti tells stories hemmed in hope through her novels, novellas, nonfiction books and devotionals, drawing from 33 years of on-air radio ministry. Ruchti has 15 books in print and has received numerous awards and nominations. She serves as the professional relations liaison for American Christian Fiction Writers and speaks frequently for women’s groups and serves on her church’s worship team and Creative Arts team. She and her plot-tweaking husband live in the heart of Wisconsin, not far from their three children and five grandchildren. To keep up with Cynthia Ruchti, visit www.cynthiaruchti.com. You can also become a fan on Facebook (CynthiaRuchtiReaderPage) or follow her on Twitter (@cynthiaruchti).

Thursday, May 8, 2014

 I’m a California girl. No one would guess as much from my Midwestern pale skin and a body that hasn’t seen a swimsuit or short-shorts since the Carter administration. No, Eisenhower. Or the fact that I’ve never eaten at an In ‘n’ Out. But I was born in California. I lived there all of eight days. That’s right. I lived in my birthplace no longer than a traditional vacation.

My birth certificate says California, though. Somewhere buried deep inside me is a surfer girl.

When my dad left to serve in the Korean War two days after my footprints were inked onto the birth certificate, my mom and I made plans—granted, she did most of the planning—to fly to Wisconsin to live with her parents, my grandparents, until his return. 

Maybe this pull the ocean has over me is because I didn’t get to dip my toes in the Pacific before we left California and a residual longing has lingered like a migrating bird’s instinct. Maybe it’s from a lifetime of harsh winters in the northwoods. Maybe it’s something indefinable, as it is for Becca Morrow in All My Belongings, a symbolism of a deeper heart longing that has nothing to do with the sea.
Gulf of Mexico

Every family vacation or business trip that plants me close to “big water” makes me feel as if I’m coming home. I’ve seen the Atlantic Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, Lake Superior, Lake Michigan, Lake Okeechobee, and the Pacific Ocean near Seattle, Alaska, Monterey, and San Diego. I’m still watching for the opportunity to truly return “home” to Oceanside someday. What’s the point? To reconnect with a moment in time. In All My Belongings, Becca is moved by her employer Isaac’s attempt at the poetic when he says, “These waves sound like the womb of my beginnings.” <insert picture of big waves here>

I’ve ordered notecards with watercolor impressions of the unique Oceanside Pier for thankyou notes. It’s almost like being there. 

The vicarious fulfillment of decades-long longings is part of the writer’s joy. I can’t live near Oceanside right now, but my character can. I can’t see palm trees outside my windows, but she can dance in their bizarre shadows. I can’t stand on damp sand and feel a flirt of seafoam tickle my ankles, but she does.

In the course of writing radio drama for 33 years, I had the privilege of living vicariously through thousands of characters’ situations. I refurbished an aging Victorian mansion…on paper. And managed a flower shop, a bakery, a quaint café, a travel agency…on paper. Through my characters, I’ve run marathons and designed clothing and lived in a New York loft apartment and mothered hundreds of children.

I’ve traveled far beyond the confines of my 12 foot by 12 foot office, to places I can’t now afford—in time or money—but that intrigue me. I’ve walked through experiences that thrilled my imagination and others that made me grateful it was only imagination.

The depth of identification with my characters means I hold my breath when they do. I cringe at their diagnoses. I weep with relief when the answers arrive on the page. Many novelists would report the same. We “miss” our characters and their adventures or misadventures when the book is sent to the publisher after the final galleys or a new book releases and attention is diverted from the previous story with which we’ve lived for years, at times.

Becca in All My Belongings was only one of the characters who offered me a vicarious look at a lifestyle and challenges unlike my own, yet like my own. I felt Aurelia’s confusion and her soul’s begging for someone to understand who she remained on the inside when her body failed her. I ached with Isaac’s loss. My stomach churned with what Geneva knew but kept tucked away. I felt the warmth from the lamppost-like outdoor heaters when Becca and Isaac dined at the outdoor restaurant in LaJolla. And I chilled when she faced the accusations against her.

Have I returned to Oceanside since my birth? Yes. Vicariously. Through my characters. Having seen it through Becca’s eyes, I’m sure it will seem beautifully familiar—even the scent of the sea in the air and the shadows of the palms—when I visit in person. Someday soon?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cynthia Ruchti tells stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark through her novels and novellas,
nonfiction projects and speaking events. All My Belongings is her eighth release (including three non-fiction books). Ruchti has also written articles for numerous magazines and industry publications and currently serves as Professional Relations Liaison for American Christian Fiction Writers. Ruchti lives in Wisconsin where she spends her days diving into words, worship and wonder.


Learn more about Cynthia Ruchti and her books at www.cynthiaruchti.com. Readers can also become a fan on Facebook (cynthiaruchtireaderpage) or follow her on Twitter (@cynthiaruchti). 



Don't forget to come by tomorrow, when you can enter to win a free copy of All My Belongings!

Tuesday, May 6, 2014


A few weeks ago, another author asked me if I had a story to tell about the role dreaming plays in a writer’s career. Do we keep pursuing a writing dream no matter what? Is dreaming for dreamers only, or is it part of a writer’s toolbox? 

Like many aspiring writers, I had a dream agency and a dream agent in mind years ago. I’d watched the way the agent conducted herself at conferences, in business settings, and in social settings. Her responses to questions on agent panels were always from a perspective that positively dripped with wisdom and grace. But her client list was full—the bane of many an excellent agent. I waited…and watched other agents. But the dream for that particular agent and working within the highly desirable community of that agency wouldn’t go away. 

For our 35th wedding anniversary trip, my husband chose Alaska. I wanted to vacation in the tropics. When I discovered a writers’ conference connected with an Alaskan cruise, it seemed to symbolize 35 years of marital compromise! I didn’t know at the time we registered that my dream agent was celebrating her 35th anniversary on that same cruise.

The agent and her husband were not onboard for the conference. They were true tourists. But she graciously agreed to take a handful of appointments one afternoon. She listened to my pitch and said something like, “Interesting. Now, let’s see if you can write.” Her client list was still full, but she invited me to submit a proposal.

A year later (2008) she still had no openings. I prepared to attend the annual ACFW (American Christian Fiction Writers) conference, wondering if it was time to give up my dream agent. Was God asking me to pursue another path? I wondered if He was even asking me to lay down the idea of writing fiction at all. I’d been working at it seriously for six years with no book to show for it. I told Him, as sincerely as I could, “Lord, if this pursuit isn’t from You, I will set it aside.” 

It seemed a moot point if I was about to turn away from fiction to other writing interests, but I emailed my dream agent and said, “I need to know if there’s any hope of signing with you so I know how to direct my energies at the conference.”

Her response? She called me to say, “I don’t know what to do with you.” It’s not exactly what I hoped to hear, but it wasn’t “No.”

She may not remember the conversation, but I recall every word. “You’re a good writer, but I promised myself I wouldn’t take on any more unpublished novelists. Go to the conference and look for another agent. If no one snatches you up”—I chuckled at that line, too—”call me after the first of January and we’ll see if I’ve had any client slots free up.”

I knew I had to be obedient to God and do due diligence. So I requested an agent appointment and an editor appointment at the conference. The agent appointment went so horribly, I was certain God was directing me to give up fiction forever. But I danced out of that appointment because I knew I’d just been shown who I shouldn’t work with as my agent. 

The editor appointment went shockingly well. Goosebump well. I had a request for the proposal. The dream stirred. What if God didn’t want me to lay aside the dream of fiction writing, but plunge deeper in? 

I sent the proposal (still wondering if I was days away from walking away from fiction), and within two hours received a response from the editor who asked for the whole manuscript. Within a month, the editor was taking the project to committee.

It seemed appropriate to call my dream agent and inform her about the development. Her words? “We’d better get you signed up then!”

My dream agent has become a dream friend and invaluable partner in this amazing journey. Days away from surrendering fiction, I signed my first contract. In May of 2014, my eighth book releases—All My Belongings, which received a starred review from Publishers Weekly—with three more novels contracted. “So far,” she said, dreamily.

Where do dreams fit in the life of a writer? For me, it seems God won’t let me pick it up and run with it unless I’m first willing to lay it down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cynthia Ruchti tells stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark through her novels, novellas, devotions, nonfiction, and through speaking events for women and writers. Her novels have been recognized with honors from RT Reviewers’ Choice, Retailers’ Choice, Family Fiction Readers’ Choice, and others. Her debut novel was a 2010 Carol Award finalist. All My Belongings is her newest release, the story of a young woman who discovers a new life and new identity can’t protect her from a past that refuses to go away.  


Learn more about Cynthia Ruchti and her books at www.cynthiaruchti.com. Readers can also become a fan on Facebook (cynthiaruchtireaderpage) or follow her on Twitter (@cynthiaruchti).  

Tuesday, October 16, 2012



We four authors—Eileen Key, Becky Melby, Rachael Phillips, and Cynthia Ruchti—worked together on a previous release—A Door County Christmas novella collection (Barbour)—in 2010 and were thrilled to join forces again on novellas that highlight another Wisconsin location—Cedarburg, the scene of all four seasons of life and love in Cedar Creek Seasons, which released in September (Barbour).

When we were invited to participate in The Borrowed Book blog, one of the first thoughts that piqued our own curiosity was how each of us might answer this question: 

How do you write comedic characters without their becoming caricatures instead? 


BECKY MELBY (author of “A Contest of Wills”): The most effective (and fun) tool I've found for creating realistic comedic characters is eavesdropping. My husband routinely has to wait for the glazed-over look to leave my eyes while we're having dinner in a crowded restaurant. It's so hard to concentrate on the conversation at my own table when there is raucous laughter at the one behind us! I love tuning in to everyday banter and picking up bits of wit and the rhythm of timing that make people laugh. While it's okay to populate a story with a few over-the-top quirky secondary characters, if you give your main characters too many extreme eccentricities or put them in too many banana-peel-slip situations, they can come across as cartoon characters rather than real people. It's the subtle little sarcastic observations of your hero or the way your heroine looks at the world through chartreuse-colored glasses that make readers smile. In Contest of Wills, much of the humor comes simply from the contrast in the way Willow and Wilson approach life. Combining a cautious introvert with a live-out-loud extrovert created the perfect set-up for comedic conflict.




RACHAEL PHILLIPS (author of “In Tune with You”): Romance offers the perfect opportunity to use a classic duo set-up: a normal character versus a comedic character who thumbs his nose at the rules. In my story In Tune with You, Chesca, the quintessential classical church choir director, clashes with Seth, a football coach and the pastor’s choice for church drama director. Seth sings “Jingle Bells” in February. Off-key, which amounts to mortal sin in Chesca’s eyes—er, ears.  

One method I use to avoid caricaturizing characters is to model them after real people. Seth shares several traits with my father, the world’s quirkiest pastor. Like Seth, Dad adores eating at truck stops and singing Christmas carols at unexpected times (he often led our congregation in “O Come O Ye Faithful” in August). Seth, like Dad, infuriates traditionalists like Chesca, yet harbors a passion for God and deep concern for unchurched friends, both adults and children. 

Layering spiritual strengths between flaws and weirdness usually creates a likable, believable, yet complex character—one who could show up at your church, singing “Jingle Bells” in February!       

Website: www.rachaelwrites.com, Facebook/Twitter.com/rachaelmphillips

EILEEN KEY (author of “Silvery Summer”): In the seventh grade I was voted Wittiest Classmate. It’s a title I’ve worked hard to maintain for many years. I believe life without a great sense of humor would be. . .unimaginable! So it is with the characters in my story. Claire finds herself in situations where she has to come up with an answer on the fly. She can’t let Eli know he’s “getting” to her. Eli doesn’t realize he’s keeping her off balance by his very presence in Cedarburg. The conflict begins. How do you develop this kind of character? Look around. I try to write real life types who experience real life situations and have them deal with the outcomes in an unusual manner. God’s gifted each of us with special personalities and quirks, so springboard your writing from the knowledge you have within. Add a little twist and voila you’ll have your reader laughing.
CYNTHIA RUCHTI (author of “Maybe Us”): Snicker. Chuckle. Laugh. Guffaw. Smile. In a world that doesn’t seem to get enough laughter to counteract its stressors, it’s a joy to tell stories that not only warm hearts but tickle funny bones, too. In writers’ workshops, I’m sometimes asked how to write humor. I cringe, because if humor doesn’t come naturally, it will either lie flat on the page or jump out obnoxiously like a pop-up clown. Life is full of funny moments. Not everyone can write about them in a humorous way. What results from a trying-too-hard attempt is a caricature—a character with every feature of face and personality exaggerated. But as the others have said, when real life reactions take an interesting twist, or a quirk or curiosity shows up at an inopportune time, comedy is more natural. In Maybe Us, Derek’s long, lean frame is accompanied by bowling ball klutziness. Play-by-the-rules Beth has hair the color of a toasted marshmallow. So does Derek’s dog. Those little curiosities set the stage for scenes that evoke a smile. In life, our family adopted the philosophy, “If we think we’ll probably laugh about this calamity later, why don’t we go ahead and laugh about it now?”

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