Have YOU Accepted JS As Your Personal Savior?

At the bookstore where I work, we have 'member' cards that enable customers to save money throughout the year by joining our 'club'. This is pretty basic; every book mega-chain worth their salt has a program like this.

When we employees scan the card, the person's name and other info pops up on the computer screen. We don't sell the information to the government; it just saves time if we have to ship something directly to them.



Example of a Barnes & Noble club card, and I'm not saying I work for the B&N.


So two days ago one of my co-workers, a girl my age, scans a man's card and gets a strange look on her face, but, like decent employees, we wait until he leaves to gossip about whatever it was that she saw.

Phonetically, this name would be spelled Hay-soos Smee-lee, I think.

But it popped up on the screen as Smelly, Jesus.



Caption: This is Jesus. He does not bathe.


That's right, folks. My friend Brittany finally found Jesus, and he was stinky.

Now there's a kid who's parents did not brainstorm, in the words of excellent British comic Eddie Izzard, "What shall we name our son so that he will not get the shit beat out of him in school?"

And thus the past few days whenever I need a lift, I turn my eyes heavenward and mediate on Smelly Jesus, who has forgiven me all my body odor and will welcome me into a utopia of cleanliness whence this putrid body falls at last to hordes of angry perfume-addicts.

But really, people. Smelly Jesus. The crappy pay at my job is worth it for moments like these.

Smelly Jesus. Spread the truth.



*Please note: I am a Christian, and believe God has a sense of humor about this, too. So don't get mad at me and tell me I'm going to hell. If that's true, you telling me won't really accomplish anything, will it?

Paolini and Urine

So there I am, standing at the register, minding my own business, not really doing anything because there was no one in line, and then I hear over the sounds of browsing customers and grinding coffee machines from the cafe... "OMG I LOVE Christopher Paolini."

"Gosh darn it," I sigh, rolling my eyes.

I turn to see a young girl, probably a junior or senior in high school, at the browsing computer talking to my General Manager, going on and on about how much she ADORES Mr. Paolini, about how AWESOME his books are, about how that's the only thing she's practically read EVER and how they're so good she's afraid to read other stuff... she's ranting about how UNFAIR it is that his third book isn't scheduled to come out forever and blah blah blah.

(Side note: Doesn't anyone remember how Paolini swore he had had the story mapped out since forever and knew exactly how it was going to go? As both my favorite manager and Jaden have noted, why then has it recently been announced that he'll be continuing with a fourth book? Is it possible he LIED to us? That he actually is just PULLING this CRAP from his ASS?!?)

Anyway, so I'm standing here trying SO HARD not to say anything, and my GM, who knows how much this being irks me, is giving me the 'If you insult the customers I will fire you!' look and THEN s I stood there squashing my natural impulses, a man comes up to me and explains how his little son had to use the bathroom yet was too short to reach the urinal, so unlike a NORMAL PERSON who would just hold his son up to the urinal, the man instructed his son to pee into the drain in the middle of the bathroom floor.

THEN he carried water from the sink, in his hands, making a huge mess, over to the middle of the floor to dilute it, and now he's just being friendly, letting me know there's a huge mess in the bathroom that I'll have to clean up.

Any other employee would have told this man where to go, but I, instead, smiled and assured the man it was no problem.

Then, the sound of the high school girls excited, high-pitched ravings still ringing in my ears, I trudged to the men's room to clean up boy urine.

Anonymous Commenter

Dear Anonymous Commenter,

Thank you for correcting a previous entry, where I referred to Chuck Palahniuk as 'Chris'. I was understandably confused, as 'Chuck' and 'Chris' are so alike.

I must also apologize for bring Mr. Palahniuk into association with Christopher Paolini. Such a travesty is my greatest regret.

-Savannah

PS: I recently re-read Palahniuk's novel Rant for the fourth time. I understand more with every reading, and I highly recommend it to anyone.

Even more reasons to hate Mr. Paolini

....

So I just found out that not only will there be a THIRD book (which I have known for a while), but there will be a FOURTH!!

I said to my manager, "He should NOT be allowed to write a fourth book", and my manager, bless his heart, said, "He shouldn't have been allowed to write a first one."

I couldn't agree more.

I Hate Christopher Paolini part 2

So there I was, happily shelving books at the bookstore where I work, when I took one into my hands by John Steinbeck, The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights.

You might recognize Steinbeck's name because he wrote many great American classics, such as The Grapes of Wrath, and is the winner of the Pulitzer AND the Nobel prize.

I'm not the biggest fan of his work or style, but regardless he was a great writer (though any ninth grader writing a term paper on Of Mice and Men will disagree with you), and deserves to be held with the greatest respect.

And so, it was with greatest shock and anger that I saw this:



Don't see it? Look closer. At the bottom. At who wrote the foreword.

Do you see why I was shaking with rage?

Christopher Paolini writing the foreword to a STEINBECK?!

This is a travesty! A complete and horrific travesty! It is an insult, an abomination, an atrocity, and it should be a crime!

Dear readers... I cannot express how hard it was to put that poor book on the shelf. I spoke of it very slowly and calmly to my manager, then requested my lunch break, where I stewed for half an hour, eating a sandwich and dreaming of the day when... when... when this book will go out of print?

There's nothing I can do, really. I just don't think Paolini is qualified to have that honor, that's all. This tires me.

Public School BS

When I was very young and in elementary school, I wanted to be a writer but thought I couldn't ever possibly be one. The reason for this? I believed I lacked the proper and required temperament.

You see... public schools have this thing called the 'Writing Process'. All through elementary, middle, and parts of high school, teachers guide you through 'brainstorming', 'drafting', 'editing', and 'publishing'.

As a child, I absolutely HATED brainstorming and drafting. I had an idea and I was raring to go! I didn't want to sketch silly ideas in web-format on a piece of paper! I took to just writing my story or essay and then making fake brainstorms and drafts based on the final product.

I thought this was what being a writer was all about, and, thusly, could not ever hope to be one because the 'process' seemed so ridiculous to me.

It took me a while to figure out that I was gifted with what many of the other students for whom this 'process' was invented were not: a destiny.

I hate to get all arrogant and mystical (woo woo wa-oo) about it, but I understood at that young age (though I lacked the words to describe it or the experience to be credible) that truly great writing begins with a vibrant spark of an idea, a special feeling likened to madness that takes a writer and dictates through him. Creating word webs just did not fit into what I felt whole-heartedly to be true.

Many esteemed and brilliant writers (Ray Bradbury, Thomas Harris, Chuck Palahniuk, Stephen King, JK Rowling, Chris Crutcher, Toni Morrison, James Thurber, etc.), I was relieved and ecstatic to find, feel the same way I do. To hear them speak of the 'writing process', they are pulled along, as if on a path in a misty wood, able to see only a few feet in front of them.

Ray Bradbury described himself as a person with a notepad and pencil, running after his characters and jotting down what they do.

The moral of this exercise is this: If I had followed the 'rules' about my art, I would have been unhappy, frustrated, confused, and my writing would have suffered.

I am here to tell you not to listen to your teachers or your government or any 'experts' that tell you to believe something that doesn't sound right to you.

ART HAS NO RULES!!!!!! You can do it however you want, in whatever way makes you happy and works for you best.

I will always resent my early education for making me feel so unhappy about what I was meant to do with my life, but at least it taught me the valuable lesson learned above.

All that idealistic stuff about no boundaries or limits is true. Follow your dreams, people.

The Career Question

Frequently in a young writer's life, that writer must say to themselves, "I know I'm a writer... but now what do I do?"

It takes years and years of novels and short stories and more novels for a writer to reach the point where they can quit their day job. Notable examples are JK Rowling, Stephen King, and Nora Roberts.

But let's face it... we can't all be MegaWriters. So what do you do until you hit it big? Or even medium? What jobs can you get that feed the writer in you while earning you good money?

The obvious answer, journalism, shall not be discussed.

Young writer, your choices are limited. You can intern at a publishing house (a very difficult position to get), or read slush piles. You can work at a library, sell magazines, or, my favorite, work at a bookstore.



The three largest bookstore chains in the USA are Barnes & Noble, Borders, and Books-A-Million.

Tips for getting hired:

1) Apply early and often.

Bookstores are a magnet for readers, writers, and pretentious indie kids alike. Most likely they have full positions, and a drawer full of applications they've collected over the past fifteen years. As soon as you turn eighteen, get your butt down to the local megachain and apply. You never know when (if!) you'll get that call.

2) Keep an ear out for new openings.

When bookstores open new stores, what do they need? New Employees! This is where Tip #1 comes in handy.

3) Be available.

Bookstores are inundated with college kids who want to work part time. If you can work full-time, you've got it made. This, however, gets tricky. If you're still in school, that leaves you open only during summer, and seasonal work is a death trap. If, however, like me, you're taking a semester off from college, your hire-ability goes up ten points instantly because you can work anytime.

4) WORK WEEKENDS!

If you aren't available to work weekends, you will not be hired. End of story.

5) Pit bookstores against each other.

Apply to as many as you can at once. If you get called back for an interview, mention that you're shopping for who can best benefit you in terms of hours, environment, and paycheck.

6) Accept your losses.

Contrary to all logic, bookstores don't pay well. You can make more money frying things at McDonald's. Seriously.

vs.

So why apply? Only because your single greatest love in this world is books and writing. Bookstores are a wonderful environment. You get to see all the books early, handle them all day, and you get discounts! Maybe even on the coffee, if they have a built-in cafe!

7) If all else fails and you can't get hired by the national chains, seek out independents.

This works especially well if you're in the Berkley, California area, but for the other 99% of us, shop around. Develop relationships with the owners, and be prepared to work part-time.

Try this locator for looking up bookstores in your area.

You gotta laugh

The focal point of Go Look There were children's stories.

However, I focused on the darker, film noir version, whereas this adorable website goes for the comedic and light-hearted.

It's a great read, so go for it!

I Used To Believe.Com

Adorable sample:

When I was 5 years old, I was sick with chicken pox for several days before something very tragic happened . . . I was getting ready for my bath when I found that I was actually sprouting feathers!!! I was absolutely convinced that I was turning into a chicken. My mother did her best to explain to me that it was simply a feather from my feather pillow stuck to one of the chicken pox sores, but for the longest time I would argue with her.

Butterfly Jewelry

I've always had an interest in butterflies, stemming from Kindergarten Monarch education and raising my own at home in the second and third grade. My recent book, finished on the 4th (yay!) entitled Go Look There gave me a chance to write about them in beautiful and mysterious ways.

Butterfly clips from an antique store (As seen in a previous post adorning my cat) were very inspirational.

And then I discovered this jewelry site:



Tigerlilly Shop, on Etsy, by Allison Fomich

See her Flickr account, with even more beautiful pictures, here.

Indie-Cred

The bracelet every Reader and Writer should have:



I have the top one and I /love/ it. I wear it with everything.

Available at CarolynForsman.Com

Indie Decorating

A new room in a new house means new decoration. Unfortunately, my room is baby blue (it'll have to go), but until I get around to painting it, here are some of my decorating quirks:

1)These keys were found on a nail in my grandmother’s cellar, and I’ve kept them for about two years, finally developing a purpose for them, seen here strung together with black thread.


2) A small collection of safety pins, hanging on a nail.


3) A pufferfish, also inherited from grandmother, and a collection of bottles, each with a paintbush in them. I’ve had a fascination with pufferfish ever since fourth grade, when I learned how they were used in making voodoo zombies.


4) A corner of my bookshelf, seen with perfume from Anthropologie, a horse bookend, a bird statue got from a furniture store in Geneva, Illinois, a small bottle got from an antique store in Standwood, Washington, a Devil Rubber Ducky found in a container of Pirate Bandaids, a tiny snail shell (not exactly pictured, but it’s there), a small baby, a finger-puper, and a butterfly.


5) A gargoyle bookend (which I made myself), and some fabulous books, including two of the Post Secret collections: Lolita, Middlesex, The Bluest Eye, A Wrinkle in Time, Rant, The Bell Jar, Invisible Monsters, The Lovely Bones, Post Secret 1 and 2, and Emotionally Weird.


6) A Chou dog; a statue used in China to ward off evil, which I picked up for a mere $20 in a store in Geneva. I’m sorry I don’t have names for you!


7) My favorite plaque, bought from the art museum in Chicago, and a door-chime of sorts, made of keys again, in my bathroom.


8) A mushroom I picked up at an antique store here in Huntsville, which now lives with Fred the Fern (more on Fred later).


9) My cat, adorned with butterflies, which I also got at that same antique store. I’ve been really into butterflies lately, having been working on a book mostly about them.



10) My lovely Grindhouse poster, the purchasing of which led to me making a new friend and possible romance (seen backwards because of quirk of program).


11) My cat, peeking out of my hamper.


12) God's Hands, seen with pearls from both market in Hawaii and Clair's, and butterflies.

Move to Alabama

Dear, lovely people! The lack in posting I attribute to a MONTH-LONG move, as well as general lack of news to post.

After all, it’s not like I had a digital camera to record the TEN-HOUR drive from Illinois to Alabama. If I had, these are some of the moment I could have captured: Getting in my first car accident (I was rear-ended, and it wasn’t my fault), a mobile home with a tree through it, a store that sells only socks (30 pair for 10 bucks), a strip club next to a church, a life-sized replica of a spaceship, our house deal falling through, flooding in our next house, and finally moving in only to find half our stuff was left in Chicago. Oh no!

But then again, this blog is mostly about writing, and I’m not in a very outwardly productive stage right now. I have nearly completed my sixth book, entitled Go Look There, which is a magical-realism collection of childhood stories, interspersed with the letters of the local psychologist and the local custodian. Now, while all of that is very exciting for me personally, it doesn’t make for much to blog about.

And then… And then I finally got my graduation gift, a MacBook, and the world changed. I’m a PC gal myself (or so I thought), until I discovered the PhotoBooth feature.

After that, I was hooked. And now, having been gifted with a built-in camera (albeit one that is permanently attached to my laptop), I can share, with pictures, some of the things I’ve been up to...

Life Changes

I am not going to college at Columbia. I am not staying in Illinois.

My family is moving again, and I have to admit I am very excited about it. We are traveling to Alabama, with the move expected to be completed sometime in July.



I will work for the first semester, and attend college the second. Which one? I have no idea. :)

In related news.... Friday, May 25th was my 18th birthday.

Imagine this... I began writing my first eventually-would-be-completed novel when I was fourteen, in ninth grade. I finished the last one as a 17-year-old senior in high school.

My contact at CBS says he has scheduled a June meeting with his agent to discuss that first novel. If you haven't read it already, you can do so by clicking here.

Today, I also graduate from high school. At 3:30 PM on May 27th I will no longer associate myself with the high school age group.



The way I have described it earlier is that I and my fellow graduates have, our whole lives, been climbing on boxes to get to a hole in the ceiling. Now we're teetering at the top, about to pull ourselves all the way up and out, and it's a time for nostalgia and excitement.

We will never be in that room again. It's time for a new one.

In any case, I plan to post the remaining chapters of Insurrection soon; it's just that I haven't been writing much lately and so haven't had on my upstairs computer so I haven't transferred those last chapters to the downstairs computer, this one.

Wish me luck in life, and congrats to all you graduating seniors out there!

-Savannah

Confessions 5 - I hate Christopher Paolini

I hate Christopher Paolini.

While not recognizing the photo, you may recognize the name. Mr. Paolini is a New York Times Best-Selling author for the Inheritance Trilogy, the most famous of which is Eragon.



You may remember a few years ago when this book came out and it was apparently a big deal. I read it. It was not.

I was introduced to Mr. Paolini through Oprah. She was doing a segment on teen authors, and I was watching it from my home television, seething with jealousy.

I am now going to make a generalization. You are free to agree or disagree: ...Fantasy sucks. The vast majority of fantasy and science fiction novels are badly written and cliched and follow the same plot over and over and over again.

(Ironically, another teen authoress featured on that Oprah Show did a successful series on vampires. Vampire stories also suck. Even Interview With A Vampire, when it comes down to it, sucks.)

This is my personal vendetta against fantasy and science fiction writing. I don't expect to be hassled about it. I know there are exceptions to the hideous rule, such as the well-known and quickly-declining-in-integrity Harry Potter books, or the Dealing with Dragons series, which was comedic and heart-warming. And lets not forget the classics (Tolkien, Pratchett, Adams, etc.), but even they have their moments.



But this is not about my hatred of those genres. This is about my hatred for Christopher Paolini.



Hate is a strong word. Mine is composed of anger and envy. While previews for the movie Eragon were showing, I took to changing the channel every time one came on. I forbade my family to see or support that movie in any way (alas, as I am a dependent teenager they have done little to respect my wishes, and in fact tonight I shall commit the treasonous act of purchasing that blasted film for the enjoyment and corruption of my little sister).

Why, you may ask? I'll tell you.

REASONS WHY I HATE CHRISTOPHER PAOLINI

1) First and foremost, he's a cheater. He did not submit his book to literary agents or publishing houses, he did not wait in agony for MONTHS for a rejection letter before sending his manuscript out again. He did not go to literary conventions and attempt to make contacts who would be interested in reading the boring and terribly-written novel of his.

NO, I say! He did none of these things. He is nothing like the rest of us.

His family owns a publishing company. Without having to earn the right in any way, he published his book and began distributing it.

Aha, but you may say... if he is so terrible, why then the success of his novel?

Oprah. Plain and simple. Oprah did a segment on teen writers, and as he was one, he got to go on. This led to his popularity with the general public, who is known for having bad taste.

2) As mentioned before, his books are terrible.

Anyone who has read Eragon, or attempted to read Eldest (I say attempted because I myself, a staunch believer in not abandoning books once you have started to read them, had to put it down due to sheer passionate annoyance) can back me up on this one.

Paolini took the low road. He created a /very/ cliched character: a special, talented, attractive boy with a mysterious past who is mistreated by his family and then made fabulous through magic.

BORING!

A basic plot summary: The Cliched main character, whose name is Eragon, discovers a dragon stone, watches the dragon hatched, and is now its caretaker. He fights off bakers or something of the sort, and takes an old man and the dragon with him on a journey to stop some dark force spreading across the land. There is a race against time, some more bad guys, some fire, a little blood, and then a magical and beautiful elven princess who is heroically rescued from prison as she is the leader of a rebellion camp (go figure).

The plot continues in that vein but I can't continue because it's too painful.

Anyway, I don't like his writing. He also sounds like he swallowed a thesaurus, and then puked it all over his 'script.

In conclusion, don't take any of this too seriously, as someday I shall probably have to eat my words.

Am I envious? Of course. I'm envious of any writer who has success, particularly those who do not /deserve/ it.

Does Christopher Paolini deserve my envy? Of course not. He has done nothing remarkable and his work will not be remembered past this generation.

...At least... that's what I tell myself.

Confessions - 4

The most harrowing thing about being a writer in your teenage years is The College Question. Do you settle for something 'practical' (i.e. cheap, in-state, close to home) with a practical major (read: business), or do you study what you /really/ want to... English, English Lit, or Creative Writing.

Well folks, this is my confession:

I have been accepted to college. I will study Creative Writing at the largest private liberal arts school in the country, Columbia College Chicago of Chicago, Illinois.

That's my personal college triumph. What's yours?

The Cost of Shipping

Yesterday I finished printing off my manuscript (as I ran out of ink SEVEN PAGES before being done), and ran it down to the local post office.

I took $40 dollars with me, but it turns out that shipping for 2-3 days with special handling was only $7.50, and only an extra 50 cents to get one of those scanner sticker things that will then alert you to the fact that your package has arrived.

Just a little detail, in case you were wondering.

Also, for all you young and inexperienced writers out there, here real quickly is how to properly address a manila envelope, because -confession- I still forget sometimes.


Taken from Nursing Advocacy

The above picture demonstrates how to properly address the manila envelope. Your name and address goes in the upper left hand corner, and the sendee's address goes in the center. Do not put stamps or anything else on it, as they will do this at the post office.

Now, there's one more important detail (this is the one I'm always forgetting): The main opening (you know, the one with the lickable sealers and that strange metal contraption) MUST BE on your right hand side and facing the table as you address the envelope. like this:



Hope that was helpful!

Meredith Maran

Because, in paranoid-Savannah-world, every April 17th is my death day, I have stayed home to avoid school shootings and bus accidents, yet still may be done in by choking, electrocution, and serial killers.

If you can get a hold of the April 2007 edition of More magazine, flip to page 209 and read the story of Meredith Maran.



Or, just visit her website.

She is an inspiring lady with an amazing story, which includes her first book being published at age 18, and raising goats at the age of 17 in Taos.

Confessions -3 The Gloating Stage Part II

The letter below came at the exact perfect time. I was very upset that day, and had just woken up from a nap designed to let my brain process several troubling issues of the moment, and then I went downstairs to where the computer was and...

There it was. The letter I had been waiting for four two months.

I had just been complaining in my head because, as the author of the book, I intimately know its details, and have been with it so long and seen so many bad drafts of it that my general opinion of the thing is, though I love it to death, that it sucks.

Which made the arrival of this email all the more sweet.

And now we shall briefly discuss what to do when you get good writing news, part deux:

As is true for most young writers, winning some form of acceptance is not only a good thing for the mood and ego, but a chance go totally push it in the face of those who thought you couldn't do it, or in general don't like you.

Unless this can be done with the utmost tact, I highly recommend against it.

Once this kind of news gets leaked to a few people, say... your favorite teacher, word gets around. You can even stage it so you tell said teacher in the beginning of class when other students are around. This makes it look like you only wanted to tell the teacher, but other students overheard, and then you get to talk to them about it.

Like I said, word travels. You would much rather have the person you want to impress hear it from someone else and have to ask you about it than tell them yourself and be thought of as stuck-up (forgive the colloquialism), wouldn't you?



CAREER IDEA:

Begin a mailing list of people who wished to be informed of your career progress. I've got four teachers on mine. Teachers love to stay in contact with their ex-students and see what's going on in their lives; chances are you won't be intruding.

Teh Letter

For all of my fictionpress readers out there, what my contact said about WW:

Hi, Savannah! Greetings from New York. I’m sorry it’s taken me so very long to get back to you about your fine novel. For a while, I was forced to focus intently on the completion of my new book, [Book name protected by Savannah], which is coming out in about three weeks. As you know, completing a book is so much harder than starting it. After that, the hectic pace of writing/living/traveling/crisis management at work has made it almost impossible for me to focus on anything that I might read for pleasure.

And speaking of pleasure, that is exactly the word to describe my feelings as I make my way through your lovely, magical novel. I was prepared for something well-written and rather dramatic, but not for the depth of insight, the futuristic vision, and the poetic command of language. To say that you are a prodigy is not an over-statement, but it actually doesn’t do your work justice. This would be an accomplished work of art for one of any age and experience. I am still reading it and savoring its genuine originality, but I can tell you right now that I do believe it is worthy of being circulated, read, thought about and published. If you would please send me a new, fresh copy of the work, I will send it to a few people that I know in the business here. The first is an agent who has a good feeling for young talent and is among the most aggressive people I know. His name is [Name protected by Savannah], and he works at a big agency here. He would eat his young to get a good deal. If [Name] likes it, he will be very helping in making sure the right people see it. The other person who I believe would be interested is my fiction publisher, [Name also protected by Savannah]. She is a very cool person and always interested in edgy, new things. I think she would see the value not only in your work to date, but also in all that you will do in the future as well.

Anyhow, I felt that enough time had gone by that I truly owed you a note, particularly since there are so very many good things to say. I know I don’t have to tell you to keep writing. You were born to that job. I’ll keep reading and doing whatever I can to help you on your road.

[Savannah's Contact]

Comment to be later added

Quotes from Working in the Dark

I read the book Working in the Dark by Jimmy Santiago Baca and Adan Hernandez, and here are selected quotes pulled from it:

(NOTE: Most of these are probably fragments of sentences, because I only pulled the good parts. So try to take in the imagery and ignore the context.)

While the president’s son in the Rose Garden snares a butterfly into his net and rips off its wings.

Ocean moaning in her blood vessels.

My heart is a cow’s tongue slowly licking a block of ice.

Poetry sits in God’s chair when God is absent.

I reach my bladed hands into the haunted heart of the woman made lonely by her beauty, because she is too beautiful for men to love her soul.

And when I finish a poem I measure its authenticity against their hearts’ reality and their imagination. The voice of poetry runs steadily and faithfully in the veins of all children.

My ears and arms become pollen sacks where butterflies and bees pollinate in language.

In the poem I plant my seed and lick the birth-film from each vowel.

My dove self is eaten and my wolf self growls.

The privilege of poets is that they can become all things in the act of creation, everything –and nothing.

And gently bit her lips.

I have failed many times to water the tree that grows in the heart.

I want to embrace all of life, the beautiful and the ugly, to sit with cowards and warriors and listen to them all.

Each true poem is the pear-handled pistol you point at your heart.

Let poetry be your open space that you transverse with courage.

He can sing the most hidden secrets of the heart. And these are gifts from God.