#characterDevelopment

IndieAuthors.Social Newsindieauthornews@indieauthors.social
2025-05-23

Heart First, Brain Later: Why Your Character’s Emotional Arc Matters More Than Your Perfect Plot

Dr. Finnian Burnett makes a case for why a jagged emotional arc for your character matters more than a perfectly constructed plot.
writersdigest.com/heart-first-

#Character #WriteBetterFiction #characterarc #characterdevelopment #Emotional
@indieauthors

Finding God’s Steadfastness in the Pause, Overflowing in Generosity

1,202 words, 6 minutes read time

Have you ever felt suspended in a moment, waiting for what seems like an eternity? Whether it’s for an answer to a heartfelt prayer, the healing of a loved one, or simply the unfolding of your next step, the experience of waiting can often feel challenging, even disheartening. In these in-between times, it’s easy to question God’s presence and wonder if He has forgotten us. Yet, within these very moments of pause, lies a profound opportunity to encounter the steadfast faithfulness of our Creator. And as we learn to trust Him in the quiet, a beautiful response blossoms within us: a desire to reflect His generous heart through our own giving.

Scripture:

“The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.” (Lamentations 3:25, ESV)

“You will be enriched in every way to be generous in every way, which through us will produce thanksgiving to God.” (2 Corinthians 9:11, ESV) 

Reflection/Teaching:

The scriptures are filled with stories of individuals and entire nations who experienced significant periods of waiting. Abraham patiently awaited the promised heir, his faith tested through decades of longing (Genesis 15-21). The people of Israel cried out for deliverance from slavery in Egypt, their cries eventually met with God’s mighty hand (Exodus). David, anointed as king, endured years of running and hiding before ascending his rightful throne (1 Samuel). Even in the New Testament, Simeon and Anna, with hearts fixed on God’s promise, waited faithfully for the arrival of the Messiah (Luke 2). These accounts remind us that waiting is not foreign to God’s plan; in fact, it often plays a crucial role in the unfolding of His purposes.

During these seasons of waiting, God is not inactive. As many insightful resources like those from Desiring God and Cru point out, these times can be profound opportunities for spiritual growth and a deepening of our reliance on Him. It is in the quiet moments that our character is refined, our understanding of God’s sovereignty expands, and our faith is tested and strengthened. We learn that His timing is not our timing, and His ways are often beyond our comprehension. Yet, His promises remain true, and His faithfulness endures through every delay.

Parallel to this experience of waiting is the transformative power of generosity. Our God is the ultimate giver, showering us with blessings beyond measure (John 3:16). As followers of Christ, we are called to reflect this divine attribute in our own lives. The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, encourages us to give not out of obligation but from a heart that is willing and cheerful (2 Corinthians 9:7). This act of giving, whether it involves our finances, our time, or our talents, is not merely a transaction; it is an act of worship and an acknowledgment of God’s provision in our lives.

The beauty lies in the interconnectedness of these two themes. When we are actively trusting God in our waiting, a spirit of generosity often arises within us. Instead of being consumed by our own needs and desires, we begin to see the needs around us. Giving becomes an expression of our faith – a tangible demonstration that we trust God to provide, even as we pour out what we have to bless others. As organizations like World Vision and Compassion International highlight, our generosity has the power to meet practical needs and to be a powerful testament to God’s love in the world. By focusing outward in generosity, we can find a deeper sense of purpose and even a measure of joy amidst our own seasons of waiting.

Application:

Consider the areas in your life where you are currently in a season of waiting. Instead of allowing anxiety or doubt to take root, actively choose to anchor yourself in the promises of God. Spend time in prayer and in His Word, reminding yourself of His past faithfulness. Simultaneously, look for opportunities to extend generosity to those around you. Perhaps it’s a financial gift to a ministry you believe in, volunteering your time to a cause close to your heart, or simply offering a word of encouragement to someone in need. Let your acts of giving be a living testament to your trust in God’s provision and a reflection of His generous spirit.

Prayer:

Heavenly Father, we thank You for Your unwavering faithfulness that sustains us through every season, especially in times of waiting. Forgive us for the moments when doubt creeps in and we lose sight of Your steadfast love. Strengthen our hearts to trust in Your perfect timing and grant us the courage to wait with hope and expectation. Lord, we also ask for a generous spirit, that we may freely and joyfully give as You have so abundantly given to us. Open our eyes to the needs around us and equip us to be Your hands and feet in a world that longs for Your love. May our waiting be marked by a deepening trust in You, and our lives be characterized by a generous outpouring of Your grace. Amen.

Closing Thoughts or Call to Action:

Remember, dear friend, that the pause is not a period of abandonment but an opportunity for God’s power to be revealed in your life. As you wait with expectant faith, allow the wellspring of God’s generosity to overflow through you. Embrace the joy of giving, knowing that in doing so, you are not only blessing others but also deepening your own connection with the heart of God.

Stay Connected and Grow in Faith!

Would you like to receive more devotionals like this, along with inspiring stories and practical ways to deepen your walk with God? Subscribe to our newsletter today and join a community of believers seeking to live out their faith with intention and joy. Sign up now and let us walk this journey together!

D. Bryan King

Sources

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

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Seeds of Light

The Lost Keepsake

1,282 words, 7 minutes read time.

108 Moral Stories (Illustrated) for Children
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The late afternoon sun dappled through the thinning leaves of the oak trees behind Ethan’s house, painting shifting patterns on the moss-covered stone wall. A cool breeze whispered down from the nearby foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Ethan, a boy of ten with a mop of sandy brown hair and eyes that held a perpetual spark of curiosity, was on one of his usual explorations. He loved the quiet solitude of the woods, the way nature held tiny treasures for those who looked closely enough.

Today, his keen eyes spotted something glinting amidst the tangled ivy clinging to the old wall. He carefully pulled back the vines and there it was: a delicate, heart-shaped locket. It was made of tarnished silver, its surface etched with swirling floral patterns that hinted at age. A tiny hinge allowed it to be opened, and inside, nestled against faded velvet, were two miniature photographs. One was of a young girl with serious, wide eyes, and the other showed an older woman with a kind smile etched with wrinkles. The locket felt cool and smooth in Ethan’s palm, radiating a sense of history and personal significance. A thrill of discovery, mixed with a faint unease, ran through him as he slipped it into his pocket.

The next afternoon, the usual boisterous energy was missing from their gathering spot beneath the sprawling oak. Caleb, ever the restless one, was kicking at loose acorns with unusual quietness. Sarah, typically the most composed of their small group, sat perched on a low-hanging branch, her shoulders slumped. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and a palpable sadness hung in the air around her. Billy, the youngest, sat silently beside her, his brow furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong, Sarah?” Ethan asked, his stomach tightening with a premonition.

Sarah’s voice trembled as she spoke. “It’s my grandmother. She’s lost her locket.”

Ethan’s heart lurched. The image of the silver heart in his pocket flashed through his mind.

“Her locket?” Caleb echoed, his usual enthusiasm replaced by sympathy. “The one she always wears?”

Sarah nodded, tears welling in her eyes again. “Yes. It was her mother’s. She’s had it since she was a little girl. She wears it every single day. She’s just… lost without it.” Sarah explained that her grandmother had visited the stone wall area the previous afternoon, enjoying the last warm rays of the sun. They suspected it might have come loose and fallen off there.

A wave of guilt washed over Ethan. He could feel the weight of the locket in his pocket, a tangible representation of his secret. He mumbled something about being sorry and avoided Sarah’s gaze.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a desultory search around the stone wall. Caleb, usually full of playful antics, was uncharacteristically focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he peered through the undergrowth. Billy, eager to help, diligently turned over fallen leaves. Ethan participated, pretending to search, his eyes scanning the ground while his mind wrestled with the growing turmoil within him.

He kept replaying the moment of discovery, the way the locket had felt in his hand, the glimpse of the faded photographs. He thought of Sarah’s grandmother, a kind woman with a gentle smile who always had a Werther’s Original candy for him. He imagined her distress, the empty space where the locket usually rested against her chest.

That evening, the weight of his secret became unbearable. He sat on the edge of his bed, the silver locket lying heavy in his palm. He thought of the Sunday school lessons his mother had always emphasized – the importance of honesty, of treating others as you would want to be treated. He remembered a story about finding something valuable and the inner peace that came from returning it.

He considered keeping it. It was a beautiful object, a piece of history. No one had seen him find it. But the thought of Sarah’s sad eyes, the image of her grandmother’s worried face, gnawed at his conscience. He knew, deep down, what the right thing to do was.

The next morning, Ethan walked to their usual meeting spot with a knot of anxiety in his stomach. He clutched the locket tightly in his hand, its cool surface a stark contrast to his sweaty palm. Sarah was already there, her face still etched with worry. Caleb stood beside her, offering quiet words of comfort. Billy trailed behind, carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked, a silent offering of sympathy.

Ethan took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Sarah,” he began, his voice a little shaky.

All three children turned to look at him.

He opened his hand, revealing the tarnished silver locket.

A gasp escaped Sarah’s lips. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Ethan! Where… where did you find that?”

Ethan’s cheeks flushed. He explained how he had found it nestled in the ivy by the stone wall two days earlier. He mumbled about being distracted by his exploring and not realizing its significance until Sarah had mentioned it was missing.

A wave of emotions washed over Sarah’s face – surprise, relief, and then a deep gratitude. Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy. She rushed towards Ethan and hugged him tightly.

“Oh, Ethan! Thank you! Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to my grandmother.”

Caleb clapped Ethan on the shoulder, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Wow, Ethan! You found it! I knew it had to be around there somewhere.”

Even Billy beamed, holding out his wildflowers towards Ethan as a silent gesture of appreciation.

Sarah pulled back, her eyes shining. “I have to tell her right away! She’s been so upset.” She took the locket from Ethan’s outstretched hand, her fingers tracing the delicate carvings. “She wears this every day. It’s like a part of her.”

Later that day, Ethan saw Sarah again, her face radiant. She told him how overjoyed her grandmother had been to have her locket back. The older woman had held it close to her heart, her eyes filled with tears of relief. She had insisted that Sarah bring Ethan over to thank him personally.

When Ethan went to Sarah’s house, her grandmother greeted him with a warm hug and a gentle smile. “Ethan, you are a very honest and kind young man,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “This locket… it holds so many memories. I thought it was lost forever. Thank you for bringing it back to me.” She pressed a Werther’s Original into his hand, her familiar gesture now carrying an extra layer of heartfelt gratitude.

As Ethan walked home that evening, the setting sun casting long shadows across the fields, he felt a quiet sense of peace settle within him. The initial thrill of finding the locket had been fleeting, but the feeling of doing the right thing, of returning something precious and easing someone’s worry, was a warmth that lingered. He understood then that true value wasn’t found in possessions, but in the integrity of his actions and the connections he shared with his friends and his community. The lost locket, worn close to a grandmother’s heart, had not only been found but had also revealed a deeper truth about honesty and the quiet blessings it brings.

D. Bryan King

Disclaimer:

The views and opinions expressed in this post are solely those of the author. The information provided is based on personal research, experience, and understanding of the subject matter at the time of writing. Readers should consult relevant experts or authorities for specific guidance related to their unique situations.

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The Weight of Discovery.
LUNARTECHlunartech
2025-05-06

Forget the 20-year version of you. The real challenge is today. Ask yourself: "Am I someone I can respect right now based on my actions?" Focus on winning this single day, evaluate honestly before sleep, and wake up ready to be your best again tomorrow.

Psychozoic EraPsychozoicEra
2025-05-04

Just failed again? No worries. The universe is clearly building your character one awkward meltdown at a time.
All part of the journey.

Needables TodayNeedablesToday
2025-05-04

Flat characters kill great plots.
Want yours to feel real?
💡 Give them contradictions
💡 Let them want and fear something
💡 Force hard choices
Messy = memorable.
Follow for more no-fluff writing tips.
👇 Who’s the most real character you’ve ever written?

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2025-05-02

How to Write a Good Character Arc

In every story, there's a moment when the hero realizes they were wrong. Here are six steps to show character growth throughout your story. Continue reading on The Writing Cooperative »
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#characterdevelopment #storystructure #writingtips #fictionwriting #characterarc
@indieauthors

Writing Flawed Mothers: Guilt, Grace, and the Space Between

There’s a particular ache that lives in the space between what a mother intends and what a child receives. That ache is what I try to capture when I write mothers—especially the complex ones, the ones who get it wrong before they get it right, or maybe never get it fully right at all.

Reading The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende changed something in me. Clara, with her quiet magic and spiritual detachment, and later Blanca and Alba—each woman layered in pain, power, protection, and silence. That novel didn’t offer easy maternal archetypes. It gave me mothers who hurt and healed, who sometimes protected their children by leaving them or letting them go.

https://haveacupofjohanny.com/the-devil-that-haunts-them-series/

It helped me realize that sometimes love and damage sit in the same room. That sometimes a mother keeps secrets because she thinks silence is safer. That sometimes her survival instincts look a lot like abandonment, and her fear of being seen too clearly makes her disappear before your eyes.

When I started writing Under the Flamboyant Tree, Bianca emerged from that space. She isn’t an evil mother. She’s a woman who chose self-preservation over staying. She’s sharp, emotionally inconsistent, sometimes loving, sometimes absent. Writing her was hard. It meant I had to look at the wounds that shaped her and resist the urge to fix her.

https://haveacupofjohanny.com/the-ordinary-bruja/

Josefina in The Ordinary Bruja is different. Her silences are protective. Her distance is survival. She carries guilt and love in equal measure, but her choices—and omissions—still leave a mark on Marisol. She’s a mother who did her best while being chased by her worst fears. And her daughter is left to untangle what that love really meant.

But I couldn’t have written them—not truthfully—until I turned inward.

Starting therapy taught me to step outside of my past and stop clinging to every hurt like a proof of injustice. It helped me learn to say, this happened, and then ask, what did it teach me?

That shift broke something open in me. I stopped reliving my story as a victim and started observing it as a student. I looked at the mothers in my life—and then at myself.

I saw the ways I’ve failed. The moments I snapped when I should’ve softened. The walls I built to protect myself that also blocked my kids (both my biological child and my stepkids) from seeing my love clearly. And it made me weep—not just for the times I got it wrong, but for the incredible chance I have every day to do better.

So now, when I write mothers, I let them be messy. I let them love in broken ways. I let them reflect the reality that healing is nonlinear. That protection can look like control. That silence can scream with meaning. And most importantly, that redemption—when it comes—is a choice, not a guarantee.

Writing flawed mothers helped me become a better one.

And maybe, just maybe, reading them can help someone else see that love and imperfection have always coexisted. That being loved badly doesn’t mean you weren’t loved. And that the healing starts the moment you look at the wound without flinching.

If this reflection resonated with you, share it with someone who’s still untangling their own mother story. Leave a comment and tell me: What book helped you see motherhood—or yourself—differently? Let’s talk about the hard, honest, beautiful middle.

#biancaCharacter #characterDevelopment #generationalHealing #josefinaEspinal #latineStorytelling #motherhoodInFiction #TheOrdinaryBruja #therapyAndWriting #UnderTheFlamboyantTree #writingFlawedMothers

mother and baby sitting on the ground
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Who else feels the tension rising?🔥 Which moment made you shout out loud while reading? Let’s relive those epic scenes!

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Fantasy Character Groups Made Simple with Ezra Barany

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IndieAuthors.Social Newsindieauthornews@indieauthors.social
2025-04-12

Stop Protecting Your Protagonist!

And if you're writing memoir, YOU are the protagonist Continue reading on The Writing Cooperative »
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The 5 R’s That Will Keep Your Readers Emotionally Riveted

How to turn the screws of story Continue reading on The Writing Cooperative »
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