I Didn't... Did I????

I have Bethany House Publishers to thank for so many things—Sarah Long for being my superlative editor, the art department for stupendous covers, the marketing department for their brilliant strategies, the employees who are faithful to pray for the authors. I am so very blessed. The contract gives the publisher the right to alter “infelicitous phrasing.” Considering my big mouth and tiny brain, that’s no small matter. Thank the Lord, Sarah and the other copy and line editors are great at catching my blunders.

While writing, I “hear” my characters’ dialects, cadence, tones, and write what they tell me. Once, I had an Irish lass who hadn’t been to church for ages. She longed to go to worship something fierce. WHOOPS! Infelicity, thy name be Cathy. Caught up in the heroine’s ardent longing to attend church, I didn’t see the other interpretation: What was the fierce thing she’d worship?

Double entendre abounds—unintentionally, hilariously, embarrassingly. Of course I’m not going to give an example of my writing. Every inspirational author lives in dread of writing something that can be "misconstrued" in a different light. We pray our editors catch those blunders.

I was looking at dermatological pictures today online. Rashes, skin cancer, lupus, drug allergies, poison ivy, chicken pox, warts and birthmarks that span from white and yellow clear to purple and black...

 An ad kept popping up for a local hospital. Doesn't this guy look like someone with a zest for life and a good sense of humor? If he Googles himself, I hope he sees how he's proof that even bad things can be overcome.

But the assorted “rocks” and “outcroppings” look almost identical to those dermatologic problems. No kidding. Good intentions, crazy outcomes. Or is it me? I’m admittedly quirky. Would anyone else have noticed that odd juxtaposition?

A friend who works as a drug sales representative. At Christmas, it’s customary for people in her business to give gifts to the doctors’ offices. When I saw beribboned cellophane packages in the back of her car, I could have wepthe’d spent hours and hundreds of dollars making baskets of assorted nuts… never once thinking about how that might not be the most sensitive thing to give since she markets antidepressant and antipsychotic meds to psychiatrists! (She was mortified and credits me with saving her job.)

By the way, if Cheez-Its and mini Milk Bones weren’t shaped differently, I’d have eaten a handful just now. The crackers are in a white coffee mug, The dog treats are in a small white bowl that Chris moved out of his way… right next to my crackers. Dottie has orange crumbs on her white fur. She sees nothing wrong with the mix up.

So here I am, with a handful of mini Milk Bones, looking down for any signs of tan crumbs and desperately testing the taste in my mouth. Cheesy. Yes, cheesy is sometimes good. Just not in my books.

Cathy