Cherished Traditions

Tonight we went to downtown Ogden to see the lights. The Christmas Village is growing and is a whole lot bigger with more displays than when I was little. It was fun to see the whole thing through my 4-year-old's eyes. As we drove down the hill and all the lights came into view, he said, "I'm so glad we're going to Christmas Town!" He even got to ride the train around the block.

Then we went to my parents' house and had Norwegian pancakes and the annual viewing of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Well, by then it was a little late and we just saw the first part where Clark takes his family out to find the perfect Christmas tree. And it's just as well, because we'd have had to skip parts for the kids- you're better off watching the t.v. version if you have young-uns- but it was fun because it's a tradition, and as wacky as some traditions get through the years, they're still comfortable. They're still home.

We have a few holiday movies that are must-sees. A Christmas Story is number one on the list, despite the fact that my daughters aren't really fans. (Boggles the mind. How can you not like that movie?) My parents and husband and I enjoy It's a Wonderful Life, but my siblings and children hate that one, too. My dad has a tradition of stashing himself away in a vacant room on Christmas day and watching it by himself. My youngest sister found out he did that and was all kinds of distraught, thinking it was tragic that my poor dad watches that sad movie all alone on Christmas day. (Like he's in there sobbing into his bowl of popcorn, "Oh, no, George Bailey, no! You have so much to live for!") In reality, my dad is so glad to get away for some much-needed alone time that he's kicking his heels in unabashed glee.

My kids and I love Elf. That's already become a Christmas movie tradition for us, and I also like The Grinch, both animated and Jim Carrey. Then there are the old- time kids shows, like Rudolph, (which used to give me nightmares and make me throw up as a kid, what with the scary Abominable Snowman and all), Frosty the Snowman, and the 70s cartoon, Twas the Night Before Christmas. (There's a certain person of some significance in my stake who resembles Joshua Trundle, but I won't say who).

Such good stuff, and all the more fun because there are a few select weeks during the year when it's acceptable to watch them. Perhaps that's why I love them so much. They herald in the season for me, and they're a treat. Now all I need is a James Bond Christmas Special. Ah, then life would be complete. :-)

Cherished Traditions

Tonight we went to downtown Ogden to see the lights. The Christmas Village is growing and is a whole lot bigger with more displays than when I was little. It was fun to see the whole thing through my 4-year-old's eyes. As we drove down the hill and all the lights came into view, he said, "I'm so glad we're going to Christmas Town!" He even got to ride the train around the block.

Then we went to my parents' house and had Norwegian pancakes and the annual viewing of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Well, by then it was a little late and we just saw the first part where Clark takes his family out to find the perfect Christmas tree. And it's just as well, because we'd have had to skip parts for the kids- you're better off watching the t.v. version if you have young-uns- but it was fun because it's a tradition, and as wacky as some traditions get through the years, they're still comfortable. They're still home.

We have a few holiday movies that are must-sees. A Christmas Story is number one on the list, despite the fact that my daughters aren't really fans. (Boggles the mind. How can you not like that movie?) My parents and husband and I enjoy It's a Wonderful Life, but my siblings and children hate that one, too. My dad has a tradition of stashing himself away in a vacant room on Christmas day and watching it by himself. My youngest sister found out he did that and was all kinds of distraught, thinking it was tragic that my poor dad watches that sad movie all alone on Christmas day. (Like he's in there sobbing into his bowl of popcorn, "Oh, no, George Bailey, no! You have so much to live for!") In reality, my dad is so glad to get away for some much-needed alone time that he's kicking his heels in unabashed glee.

My kids and I love Elf. That's already become a Christmas movie tradition for us, and I also like The Grinch, both animated and Jim Carrey. Then there are the old- time kids shows, like Rudolph, (which used to give me nightmares and make me throw up as a kid, what with the scary Abominable Snowman and all), Frosty the Snowman, and the 70s cartoon, Twas the Night Before Christmas. (There's a certain person of some significance in my stake who resembles Joshua Trundle, but I won't say who).

Such good stuff, and all the more fun because there are a few select weeks during the year when it's acceptable to watch them. Perhaps that's why I love them so much. They herald in the season for me, and they're a treat. Now all I need is a James Bond Christmas Special. Ah, then life would be complete. :-)

Maslow really knew his stuff

So I've been sick for two weeks and am finally feeling like I'm back among the living. Cyberspace has sped right along without me, and the inboxes are stuffed full.

But feeling under the weather has made me appreciate Abraham Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs all the more. Man, that guy was really on to something when he came up with his triangle. (Actually, he built on the work of Skinner and others before him, but anyway. The Hierarchy of Needs was his own creation).

So at the base of the triangle, you have your physical needs. In order to build upward and appreciate other facets of life, one first has to have those physical needs met. After the physical comes safety, then love, then self-esteem and finally self-actualization where we reach the pinnacle and find our full potential.

Mmm hmm.

Some of us are still on the lower levels, but hey, it's all part of the game, right?

So anyway, I was sick over Thanksgiving. THANKSGIVING. What a waste! So much fantastic food and I barely enjoyed it. I did force myself to eat more than one piece of pie because, really, it's pie, but the satisfaction level was dismally, depressingly low.

I also had all this time to get some writing done, work on the house, decorate like crazy--I envisioned myself singing the Happy Little Working Song a la Enchanted in a beautiful Cinderella dress. Instead, I was sick. Absolutely drained. Had time to write. Didn't care. Had time to decorate. Didn't care. Had delectable food to eat. Didn't care.

I was sunk below the bottom-most level of the hierarchy and couldn't enjoy the most basic levels of the pyramid because of it! When you don't feel good physically, it's hard to make yourself enjoy anything else. It makes me appreciate friends of mine who are currently seriously sick and undergoing procedures and treatments. Makes me appreciate my mom who's had a minor stroke and botched heart surgery, who's on so many meds she sometimes veers to the left while trying to walk in a straight line.

When I was in high school, my history teacher had a bunch of lame sayings on his wall. One of them was the old, "Health is a crown on the well person's head, but only the sick seem to see it." I'm ashamed to admit I thought of this lameness more than once while I was sick, and I vowed that once healthy, I would never again just take it as my due. Good health is a blessing, and now that I'm starting to feel it again, I'm so grateful for it.

Of course, I had preschool this morning which totally wiped me out. Which is why I figured the laundry and dishes can wait. I'd rather sit and blog. ;-)

Missed you all!

Maslow really knew his stuff

So I've been sick for two weeks and am finally feeling like I'm back among the living. Cyberspace has sped right along without me, and the inboxes are stuffed full.

But feeling under the weather has made me appreciate Abraham Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs all the more. Man, that guy was really on to something when he came up with his triangle. (Actually, he built on the work of Skinner and others before him, but anyway. The Hierarchy of Needs was his own creation).

So at the base of the triangle, you have your physical needs. In order to build upward and appreciate other facets of life, one first has to have those physical needs met. After the physical comes safety, then love, then self-esteem and finally self-actualization where we reach the pinnacle and find our full potential.

Mmm hmm.

Some of us are still on the lower levels, but hey, it's all part of the game, right?

So anyway, I was sick over Thanksgiving. THANKSGIVING. What a waste! So much fantastic food and I barely enjoyed it. I did force myself to eat more than one piece of pie because, really, it's pie, but the satisfaction level was dismally, depressingly low.

I also had all this time to get some writing done, work on the house, decorate like crazy--I envisioned myself singing the Happy Little Working Song a la Enchanted in a beautiful Cinderella dress. Instead, I was sick. Absolutely drained. Had time to write. Didn't care. Had time to decorate. Didn't care. Had delectable food to eat. Didn't care.

I was sunk below the bottom-most level of the hierarchy and couldn't enjoy the most basic levels of the pyramid because of it! When you don't feel good physically, it's hard to make yourself enjoy anything else. It makes me appreciate friends of mine who are currently seriously sick and undergoing procedures and treatments. Makes me appreciate my mom who's had a minor stroke and botched heart surgery, who's on so many meds she sometimes veers to the left while trying to walk in a straight line.

When I was in high school, my history teacher had a bunch of lame sayings on his wall. One of them was the old, "Health is a crown on the well person's head, but only the sick seem to see it." I'm ashamed to admit I thought of this lameness more than once while I was sick, and I vowed that once healthy, I would never again just take it as my due. Good health is a blessing, and now that I'm starting to feel it again, I'm so grateful for it.

Of course, I had preschool this morning which totally wiped me out. Which is why I figured the laundry and dishes can wait. I'd rather sit and blog. ;-)

Missed you all!

The Whitney Benefit Auction

Copied and pasted directly from Kerry Blair's posts at Six LDS Writers and a Frog:

Don't miss the Whitney Benefit Auction, going on now! They have dozens of great gifts, all up for auction or buy-it-now purchase. New items are added every single day, so check back often!

We’ve got incredible stuff: Autographed books and gifts, valuable editing packages going for a song, designer clothing, home decorating accents, silk ties, massages, handcrafted note cards, food items, fine art, gorgeous jewelry, book publishing packages, children’s clothing, a family photo shoot, and much, much, much, much more. (We have, in fact, several things you can't buy anywhere else.)

If you haven’t seen the site lately, you haven’t seen it at all. Several auctions are ending very soon, so I put up more than a dozen new items and services yesterday. I’m putting up a dozen more today—including my own packages of baseball tickets, Hopi jewelry, prickly pear jelly, and an Official Nightshade Ghost-Hunting Kit. (Just where else do you think you’re going to find that?)

Whitney Auction

The Whitney Benefit Auction

Copied and pasted directly from Kerry Blair's posts at Six LDS Writers and a Frog:

Don't miss the Whitney Benefit Auction, going on now! They have dozens of great gifts, all up for auction or buy-it-now purchase. New items are added every single day, so check back often!

We’ve got incredible stuff: Autographed books and gifts, valuable editing packages going for a song, designer clothing, home decorating accents, silk ties, massages, handcrafted note cards, food items, fine art, gorgeous jewelry, book publishing packages, children’s clothing, a family photo shoot, and much, much, much, much more. (We have, in fact, several things you can't buy anywhere else.)

If you haven’t seen the site lately, you haven’t seen it at all. Several auctions are ending very soon, so I put up more than a dozen new items and services yesterday. I’m putting up a dozen more today—including my own packages of baseball tickets, Hopi jewelry, prickly pear jelly, and an Official Nightshade Ghost-Hunting Kit. (Just where else do you think you’re going to find that?)

Whitney Auction

Broad Spectrum or Dig Deep?

I had a conversation with Tristi Pinkston at the Provident Book Grand Opening about different approaches to historical fiction, and I've often thought about the approach I took to my Civil War series. Tristi and I basically discussed the difference between taking a big look at something, kind of like stepping back and taking in the panoramic view vs. narrowing in on one slice of an event and delving deeply into it.

For example, when I wrote Faith of our Fathers, my goal was to give the reader a very broad overview of the WHOLE thing. Different cities, battles, events, etc. In order to do that, I created characters and placed them in strategic places so we could see all of those events through their eyes.

This approach allowed me to look at the whole of the conflict, but at only, say, a foot below the surface. If an author were to take one particular town, for example, and focus on one family during the Civil War, she would be able to go more like six, ten, fifteen feet deep. As far as she wants to, really.

Historical Fiction is an interesting animal. Seems like people usually love it or hate it. Purist, arm-chair historians tend to prefer the nonfiction approach to history. For readers who like a more humanized, (for lack of a better word), look at history, the fictional element helps. Fiction is also more entertaining, usually, and many readers enjoy that element.

There is danger in fictionalizing history, I think. I felt this weight when I wrote the series. As an author, you run the risk of people thinking that the "truth" as you see it as an author is, in fact, gospel. Sometimes it's just personal opinion. I felt a huge responsibility to portray real, living people as they were, and not to allow my view of things to alter what they may have said or did. I would venture to guess that other authors of historical fiction would agree with me. You just don't want to get it wrong! When I wrote that series, I said a lot of prayers.

Any strong opinions on this, one way or another? Do you prefer fiction or non when it comes to reading your history? Do you like a broad overview or an in-depth chunk?

Broad Spectrum or Dig Deep?

I had a conversation with Tristi Pinkston at the Provident Book Grand Opening about different approaches to historical fiction, and I've often thought about the approach I took to my Civil War series. Tristi and I basically discussed the difference between taking a big look at something, kind of like stepping back and taking in the panoramic view vs. narrowing in on one slice of an event and delving deeply into it.

For example, when I wrote Faith of our Fathers, my goal was to give the reader a very broad overview of the WHOLE thing. Different cities, battles, events, etc. In order to do that, I created characters and placed them in strategic places so we could see all of those events through their eyes.

This approach allowed me to look at the whole of the conflict, but at only, say, a foot below the surface. If an author were to take one particular town, for example, and focus on one family during the Civil War, she would be able to go more like six, ten, fifteen feet deep. As far as she wants to, really.

Historical Fiction is an interesting animal. Seems like people usually love it or hate it. Purist, arm-chair historians tend to prefer the nonfiction approach to history. For readers who like a more humanized, (for lack of a better word), look at history, the fictional element helps. Fiction is also more entertaining, usually, and many readers enjoy that element.

There is danger in fictionalizing history, I think. I felt this weight when I wrote the series. As an author, you run the risk of people thinking that the "truth" as you see it as an author is, in fact, gospel. Sometimes it's just personal opinion. I felt a huge responsibility to portray real, living people as they were, and not to allow my view of things to alter what they may have said or did. I would venture to guess that other authors of historical fiction would agree with me. You just don't want to get it wrong! When I wrote that series, I said a lot of prayers.

Any strong opinions on this, one way or another? Do you prefer fiction or non when it comes to reading your history? Do you like a broad overview or an in-depth chunk?

Provident Bookstore Grand Opening

Left to right, Karlene Browning, Assistant Manager; Tristi Pinkston, LDS author; Jennie Hansen, LDS author; Nancy Campbell Allen, LDS author.

I stole this pic from Tristi's blog. You must click on the link at the bottom of this post to see all her other cool pictures of the store! And Tristi, thank you for letting me steal this picture. Even though you didn't know I was stealing it. (I figure it's that whole asking-for-forgiveness-than-permission thing).

It was so fun to see friends, if only for a little bit! What a fantastic store. If you are ever in Pleasant Grove, you must stop by. Candy like an old-fashioned store, awesome toys and a great collection of books.

Good stuff!
Tristi Pinkston's Blog!

Provident Bookstore Grand Opening

Left to right, Karlene Browning, Assistant Manager; Tristi Pinkston, LDS author; Jennie Hansen, LDS author; Nancy Campbell Allen, LDS author.

I stole this pic from Tristi's blog. You must click on the link at the bottom of this post to see all her other cool pictures of the store! And Tristi, thank you for letting me steal this picture. Even though you didn't know I was stealing it. (I figure it's that whole asking-for-forgiveness-than-permission thing).

It was so fun to see friends, if only for a little bit! What a fantastic store. If you are ever in Pleasant Grove, you must stop by. Candy like an old-fashioned store, awesome toys and a great collection of books.

Good stuff!
Tristi Pinkston's Blog!

It's the Little Things...

Winning a gajillion dollars would be wonderful, don't get me wrong. I collected those McDonald's Monopoly pieces last month, reasoning that someone has to win, it might as well be me. Alas, it wasn't me.

I've realized lately, though, just how little things can bring so much joy. Like discovering a certain four-digit code.

A few months ago, my car battery died, so my car stereo thought it had been stolen from the car and locked itself up. It required a four-digit code to reactivate and because we bought the car used, the magic card displaying said code was no longer in the glove box. (What a silly name, "glove box." Like any of use it for gloves anymore. It ought to be called, "Collection of Crap Box.")

So the stereo routinely gave us three tries to guess the code, and then it locked itself up again for a random amount of hours. I could never figure the rhyme or reason behind that number of hours, either. But anyway, the code option would come back on with a loud BEEP, and the kids and I would scream, "Code Time!"

We tried so desperately to guess the code; we all took turns and I was waiting for the moment when someone would guess the right combination and we'd have music in the car again. I was going slowly insane from the quiet. Well, relative quiet. When the kids weren't in the car, it was quiet.

Time came and went and we couldn't get the dang code. I kept thinking of Terminator 2 where the young John Connor has that PIN code contraption that he sticks into the ATM and gets money out on people's stolen cards. (That was when John Connor was a delinquent and before he was destined to save the world.) I needed one of those machines.

I finally just called the dealership, (duh), and asked if there was any way, even though we bought the car used, if they could look up the stereo code using my VIN number. My heart sank, the lady said "no." BUT, if I took off the casing around the stereo and pulled out the stereo itself, I could find the manufacture number and model number on the stereo, and THEN she could look up the code.

Yesterday, I took out my screwdriver and pried the face off the stereo. Oops. Silly me, the lady meant we had to take off the ENTIRE CASING AROUND THE STEREO, THE VENTS AND CONTROL NOBS. Hmm. I decided I needed reinforcements for that, so I tracked my husband down at work and asked for his help. I was relatively certain I could get the casing off, but I wasn't sure I could do it with any kind of, shall we say, finesse.

So we got the casing off, called the woman at the dealership, and got the magic code! I was slightly disappointed that we hadn't managed to guess it, but I was desperate enough to not play the Code Time Game any longer. It was amazing. Punch in four little numbers and voila! Paradise!

It was in that moment when I realized how grateful I am for little things. My stupid little stock stereo in a car that has its share of dings, (again with my finesse issue), and the glorious sounds that poured forth had me in absolute ecstasy.

I started thinking about the other little things I'm grateful for. My kitchen, for instance. It's a galley kitchen, ridiculously small for more than, say, half a person to be in at any one time, but I have all the little gadgets I feel I need to make yummy stuff for my family. ( I even use white flour to cook with, on occasion. Take that, David Woolley!) And even though I don't have all the counter space I'd like, I'm not lacking for anything I feel I need.

My house is small, but we have heat, running water, and fun Norwegian decor. My children each have a bed, miscellaneous and sundry age-appropriate paraphernalia, clothing and cute hair. My husband has the job of his dreams and I get to write pretend stuff for a living.

So yes, while I was genuinely bummed that I didn't collect both Park Place and Boardwalk, (did anyone notice the profusion of Park Place pieces and total lack of Boardwalk this year?) it really is ok. I have a good little family, food in the cupboard and music in my car.

Life is so good. :-)

It's the Little Things...

Winning a gajillion dollars would be wonderful, don't get me wrong. I collected those McDonald's Monopoly pieces last month, reasoning that someone has to win, it might as well be me. Alas, it wasn't me.

I've realized lately, though, just how little things can bring so much joy. Like discovering a certain four-digit code.

A few months ago, my car battery died, so my car stereo thought it had been stolen from the car and locked itself up. It required a four-digit code to reactivate and because we bought the car used, the magic card displaying said code was no longer in the glove box. (What a silly name, "glove box." Like any of use it for gloves anymore. It ought to be called, "Collection of Crap Box.")

So the stereo routinely gave us three tries to guess the code, and then it locked itself up again for a random amount of hours. I could never figure the rhyme or reason behind that number of hours, either. But anyway, the code option would come back on with a loud BEEP, and the kids and I would scream, "Code Time!"

We tried so desperately to guess the code; we all took turns and I was waiting for the moment when someone would guess the right combination and we'd have music in the car again. I was going slowly insane from the quiet. Well, relative quiet. When the kids weren't in the car, it was quiet.

Time came and went and we couldn't get the dang code. I kept thinking of Terminator 2 where the young John Connor has that PIN code contraption that he sticks into the ATM and gets money out on people's stolen cards. (That was when John Connor was a delinquent and before he was destined to save the world.) I needed one of those machines.

I finally just called the dealership, (duh), and asked if there was any way, even though we bought the car used, if they could look up the stereo code using my VIN number. My heart sank, the lady said "no." BUT, if I took off the casing around the stereo and pulled out the stereo itself, I could find the manufacture number and model number on the stereo, and THEN she could look up the code.

Yesterday, I took out my screwdriver and pried the face off the stereo. Oops. Silly me, the lady meant we had to take off the ENTIRE CASING AROUND THE STEREO, THE VENTS AND CONTROL NOBS. Hmm. I decided I needed reinforcements for that, so I tracked my husband down at work and asked for his help. I was relatively certain I could get the casing off, but I wasn't sure I could do it with any kind of, shall we say, finesse.

So we got the casing off, called the woman at the dealership, and got the magic code! I was slightly disappointed that we hadn't managed to guess it, but I was desperate enough to not play the Code Time Game any longer. It was amazing. Punch in four little numbers and voila! Paradise!

It was in that moment when I realized how grateful I am for little things. My stupid little stock stereo in a car that has its share of dings, (again with my finesse issue), and the glorious sounds that poured forth had me in absolute ecstasy.

I started thinking about the other little things I'm grateful for. My kitchen, for instance. It's a galley kitchen, ridiculously small for more than, say, half a person to be in at any one time, but I have all the little gadgets I feel I need to make yummy stuff for my family. ( I even use white flour to cook with, on occasion. Take that, David Woolley!) And even though I don't have all the counter space I'd like, I'm not lacking for anything I feel I need.

My house is small, but we have heat, running water, and fun Norwegian decor. My children each have a bed, miscellaneous and sundry age-appropriate paraphernalia, clothing and cute hair. My husband has the job of his dreams and I get to write pretend stuff for a living.

So yes, while I was genuinely bummed that I didn't collect both Park Place and Boardwalk, (did anyone notice the profusion of Park Place pieces and total lack of Boardwalk this year?) it really is ok. I have a good little family, food in the cupboard and music in my car.

Life is so good. :-)

For the Love of the Sport

So I signed at four Seagull stores today, all in Utah County.

BYU played San Diego today also.

I've decided that all of Utah County was driving to the stadium while I was trying to get to my first signing. It was funny, really, and also cool. I happen to like football, so the throngs of people shoving close together to watch a bunch of guys run around on the grass and hurl a funny-shaped ball at each other works for me.

Sports are such an important part of life. We have scholarships dedicated to them. Kids can get school paid for by being good at a game. We have entire tv and radio networks designed around them. Millions upon millions of dollars float around in this country, (and everywhere else if you count the "real" futbol, among other things), all for the love of sports. The whole world comes together every 4 years to celebrate sports and pay homage to each country's finest.

I grew up with a football and track and field loving dad and a mom from Norway who skiied before she could walk. I really, really love sports, and if I may be so bold for a moment as to share something personal, my patriarchal blessing even tells me to enjoy sports.

When I look at the good it does for my children and the kids my husband works with in the fall when he coaches little league football I am extremely grateful that organized sports exist. Has society gone too far in worship of athletes? Is the money component out of hand? Sure. But if you get back to the basics of what it's really all about, it's easy to see how many lives sports affects for good.

So I forgive everyone for being at the game today instead of flocking to the bookstores to see me.

*big breath* And I hope you'll forgive me for being a University of Utah fan. *ducking for cover*

What if Dr. Frankenstein Had Loved His Monster?

(Slight change of plans for tomorrow's signing- the Provident Bookstore grand opening has been moved back one week to November 15. All the times are still the same, as far as I know.)

I wanted to send a shout-out to my book club friends and tie in to my odd post title. Book Club met last night and my sweet friends read my newest book this month. So we talked about it and they gushed appropriately for my ego's sake. The hostesses made Indian food and the main hostess wore her Indian shirt.

They were so good to me, and I was really grateful. Also, one of my friends mentioned that she wants to be Isabelle when she grows up. Me too! I love Isabelle. She's all things that are smart and brave and clever. Her flaws and weaknesses only serve to make her that much more wonderful.

When I wrote her in the Civil War series she was little more than a secondary character, a good friend of one of my main characters. It didn't take long, though, for Isabelle Webb to leap to the foreground and there were times I had to hold her back a bit. By the end, she got lots of her own scenes.

So this series is for her. She's so wonderful, and I do say that without guile. This is not an autobiographical book- I only wish it were! But I've come to love this character so much and was so gratified to see that other readers love her too.

So my question for readers is this: have you ever read a character and thought, "Man! I wish I could be her/him!"

My question for writers is this: who's your favorite character you've written to date and why?

Or am I the only writer out there egotistical enough to be totally enamored of one of her own creations? ;-)

Signings, Signings Everywhere!

There's a new bookstore opening in Utah County and I'm always excited to hear that someone is opening a new bookstore somewhere in the world! The nice thing for me with this particular store is that I get to sign on their grand opening day, which is always very cool.

These are the details:
Date: Saturday, November 8th
Place: Provident Book/Humdinger Toys
Address: 661 W. State, Pleasant Grove, Utah.

I will be there at 4:00 p.m. In fact, I'll post a whole schedule of all the authors for the day.

10:00 A.M.
Christy Hardman
Robert Freeman
Larry C. Porter

11:00 A.M.
H.B. Moore
Angela Hallstrom
Tristi Pinkston

12:00 Noon
David G. Woolley
Julie Coulter Bellon
Monte Shelley

1:00 P.M.
Terri Ferran
C.S. Bezas
Janet Burningham

2:00 P.M.
Rachel Ann Nunes
Stacy Gooch Anderson
John Telford

3:00 P.M.
Jennie Hansen
Michele Ashman Bell
Nancy Anderson

4:00 P.M.
N.C. Allen
Gilbert W. Scharffs

6:00 P.M.
John (Jack) Welch


I'll be in Utah County the whole day, and here's a list of where I'll be:

10:00-11:00 Provo East Bay Seagull
11:30-12:30 Provo Seagull
1:00-2:00 Orem South Seagull
2:15-3:15 Orem Seagull
4:00-5:00 Provident Book/Humdinger Toys
If you're around any of those locations on November 8th, I'd love to see you!

The Book Was Better

There's a reason people say, "The book was better."

When we who love to read get involved in a story we see things a certain way, we experience the book individually. I've heard that the same book is never the same to various readers, and I believe that. Reading is a unique, usually solitary experience and the reader finds herself living that book in her own way until she discusses it with others and broadens her perspective on it. Maybe she'll agree with other opinions, maybe she won't, but she comes away from the book with her own feelings about it.

J.K. Rowling once said that a young girl standing in a signing line was a little upset that there were so many other people there, that she felt Harry Potter was her book. I love that! And it's one of the reasons that I sometimes have a hard time with audio versions- it's like the reader is intruding on my experience or something. I know, weird.

The reason I bring all of this up is because I was thinking the other day about one of my very favorites, The Count of Monte Cristo, and the movie version that came out in 2002. I have loved the book for ages. I suggested it for my local book club, we read it, and then went and saw the movie together. (Should have seen us all, a bunch of married Mormon women, staring at the screen with our mouths agape at James Caviezel).


But other than the eye candy, I was really unhappy with the way the story had been totally altered.

I mean completely.

Why does it have to be that way? Monte Cristo gets a happy ending in the book! Why couldn't Hollywood have stayed true to the story?

It's funny to listen to my kids say, "That didn't happen in the book," when they watch movies. And one of my favorite memories along those lines was when I was first married and my husband had read John Grisham's The Firm. When the movie came out, we sat in the theater with him muttering the that-didn't-happen litany through the whole of it. The reason I was so tickled by this is because my husband isn't a reader.

So, I'd have to say that overall, the book is better than the movie. My Junior English Seminar teacher at Ogden High School once told us that this was true for every movie she'd seen except for the movie adaptation of A Separate Peace. I hated both the book and the movie, so I can't say I agree with her.

What about you? Can you think of any movies out there that are better than the books? Have you seen a movie adaptation that made your blood boil because it was such a shame they slaughtered your favorite book so much?

Greatness vs. Mediocrity

When I was 17 years old, I had my wisdom teeth removed over a long weekend from school and my parents rented the movie, "Amadeus." Imagine me bawling my guts out with a swollen face as they dump Mozart's body into a common grave and then poor that guck all over it to make it decompose faster.

Yeah. Nice wisdom teeth memory.

But what has stuck with me from that movie is the whole concept of Greatness vs. Mediocrity. Here we have Salieri, a nice enough composer, who is forever coming in second, (or third, or fourth), to Mozart, who was lecherous and scandalous. Salieri was a God-fearing man who couldn't comprehend that God would put such incredible talent into what he perceives as such a sinful vessel.

At the end of the movie, we are led to assume that Salieri poisoned Mozart and Salieri is in an "insane assylum" for trying to end his own life. He is wheeled down the hallway with his throat all bandaged and is basically calling himself the king of mediocrity as all of the other unfortunate inmates are running around half-crazed.

For YEARS that scene has haunted me as a writer. At times I have found it almost paralyzing as I try to write stories knowing full well that there are so many works of genius in the world that the best I can ever hope for is to be someday wandering around with a bandaged throat and calling myself the Queen of Mediocrity.

Somehow I've managed to stumble through this funky mind block and produce a few books. Some have been well received by readers, others have not appreciated my efforts so much. I've reached the point where my skin has thickened a bit and I'm able to try to focus my attention on all of the people who have said positive things about what I've tried to do.

But still! I'm no Chaim Potok. I'm no Dickens or Austen or Bronte. I'm no Barbara Kingsolver or Kaye Gibbons or Sandra Dallas. I'm no Tom Clancy or Stephen King or my personal hero, Frederick Douglass. So where does that leave me? What am I to do with that?

I'll tell you what.

I had an incredible epiphany a couple of years ago. I was thinking about classical music and how much of it leaves me in a real downer. I've played piano since the age of 8 and had a mother who loved classical music, so I'm no stranger to a lot of it. But man, some of it depresses me so much. Mozart is rarely an exception to this, for me. So as I was loading some music onto an iPod a while back, I loaded Vivaldi, some Handel and three select pieces of Grieg for their sentimental value, having grown up with a Norwegian mother who was often homesick.

NO MOZART.

I realized that as brilliant as he was, and as much of a genius as he was, I didn't want him on my iPod. Other than his Queen of the Night Aria, he depresses the blazes out of me!

And I started to realize something else. If I had only a few reading choices left to me in this life, as much as I admire Dickens, I don't think I'd pick him. Don't even know that I'd pick Potok, whom I love. I'd pick some fun, escape fiction.

*GASP*

Genre fiction? That's my choice if stranded on a desert island? Yes. (Aside from the scriptures, which is a given. I mean, come on). I would choose something that would lift my mood and spirits, and for me, genre fiction- romance, thrillers, mystery- that does it for me.

So while Mozart is indeed a genius and beloved by so many, and he deserves to be, he's not my favorite. And it's ok. And it's ok that I'm not a writing genius. I've received a few emails and letters here and there from people who say I've given them some reading enjoyment and it warms my heart like no other. I've been able to give people a few hours of reading pleasure and provide for them the same kind of experience I love to have as a reader. I am at peace with my talents and my limitations. I hope to live another 40 or 50 years and continue to improve my craft. I absolutely love what I do and that is such a blessing.

I guess, in the end, even if I am wheeled around in a crappy old wheelchair and moving my hand in circles like the queen at my mediocrity subjcts, I can die happy knowing that for a little bit, I helped someone escape and have a fun reading experience. I lifted a mood for a bit.

Like Vivaldi. :-)

Location, location, location

Not long ago I read a discussion some fellow authors were having about how they see strangers in a crowd and begin to imagine stories about that person. I could relate to this author oddity, which is probably shared by a lot of other imaginative people as well, but I realized that even stronger for me than people is the setting.

How strange! When stories are all about characters, why is the biggest trigger for me the place? I don't really know. All I know is when I see an old Victorian home that could be fantastically beautiful but looks slightly eerie, I imagine all kinds of gothic romance. That slight twinge of scary along with the promise of a brave heroine and a tortured but dashing hero who will be ultimately emotionally saved by that brave heroine...Ah! Such good stuff!

The first four books I wrote are what I call Romantic Adventures. I don't know anyone in real life who would have these things happen to them. But so much of these books, to me, were the settings. I picked places I want to go see. The first, Love Beyond Time, was a Civil War time travel. (A noble enough first effort, but kind of hokey). The second, No Time for Love, takes place in London, Greece and South America. The third, (my personal favorite and is now, ironically enough, out of print), A Time for the Heart is set on an archaeological dig in Guatemala, and the fourth, Echoes, (recently re-released and available wherever fine books are sold), takes place in Savannah, Georgia and the Tuscany region of Italy.

Now, of course, I do extensive character sketching and back story in my personal notes before I ever even begin to write a book. I plot like crazy and make notes to myself to keep all the twists and turns straight. But oh, how I love the setting. And as a reader, with a delicious setting I can almost forgive weak characters or silly plotting. Weeelll, maybe that's actually stretching things a bit, but you see what I mean.

How about you? Where does setting fall in your list of priorities, either as a reader or a writer?

My Daughter's Football Career

So my daughter, Anna, is 13 and is a football veteran. She's played for five years, began when she was 8. Last Saturday, she was knocked out cold and was unconscious before she hit the ground. Needless to say, I'm glad I happened to be sick and therefore unable to witness it.

Anna's football led our family to all kinds of changes. My husband's undergrad was in Sales, and when he began coaching Anna's team he realized how much he loved working with the kids. It led to a very nice midlife crisis where he changed careers, went back to school and got a Masters in School Counseling. He's a school counselor now, and we owe it all to football.

Anna has been a natural athlete since day one. I've not known her to look unnatural at any sport she's tried. The hard part for a girl is when your passion lies with full-on tackle football. When they were 8 it was no big deal, but now the boys are outgrowing her by leaps and bounds. She's an awesome hitter, (and I made my husband promise me she'd play ONLY DEFENSE this year), but we've known it's been coming to an end for some time.

Poor kid- she's having a hard time with it. But it's been a fun, fun ride for our family and I'm glad she's played 5 years and been knocked out only once. And I'm also really glad I wasn't there for it. ;-)

When Did This Happen?

Ok, I remember the first time I was referred to as, "Nina's Mom." I realized I'd hit a new phase in life, the one where you lose your former identity and become Someone's Mom. But now Nina is 16 and I'm floudering a little, wondering when my precocious little girl became this young woman.

She raked it in for her birthday. She got a new phone from us, goodies from the aunts and uncles and cousins, and cash and a CAR from my parents. A CAR. It's the cute little red one that's been passed down from brother-in-law to sister to my dad who cleaned it up and now to my girl.

The funny thing is she doesn't even have her permit yet. She was a little nervous and not it that big of a hurry to get the license thing going. Last night after we got home from the birthday party, she got out the driving book and asked me what I thought she should highlight. I told her that I'm really good at Dickens and Austen but that her dad is the Driving Book Man. Much as I hate to admit it, my poor silver Montero is dinged up like you can't believe. My husband is a much better driver.

And the dating thing! A boy can now, in theory, come to our house and pick Nina up and take her somewhere just the two of them. Mark says this will occur only after said boy comes into the home and visits; they'll have a chat while my husband sits with his shotgun across his lap a la Beverly Hillbillies. Or that crazy flick that Dueling Banjos comes from. Starts with a D. You know the one, it escapes me at the moment. Desperation? Desperado? Delinquent? DELIVERANCE. That's it. Little stream-of-consciousness never hurts.

Well, my Nina, be a good girl. Stop at all the stop signs. If the light turns yellow, best to hit the brakes. Do as I say, not as I do. When the boy says, "If you really loved me you would," just do that little maneuver I taught you years ago. If he really loves you, he won't expect you to.

Nina was popping VHSs in the video player at 2 years of age. She cut her little sister's hair at 4. Her first sleepover was at Cody's house. (They were young and innocent.) She has cut, glued, pasted, created, texted, curled, primped, laughed and entertained her way to 16 and it is an absolute joy and pleasure to be her mother. But I really don't feel any older than I did when she was born.

She's also the most beautiful swimmer ever.

It's a Boy!

My sister, Julie, and her husband, Dustin, are in Taiwan as I write this, picking up their little boy. They're adopting a sweet 11-month-old, Alex Kuan Yu Loveridge. Jules sent some pictures today and I just keep misting up every time I look at them.

This is Julie's first baby. Dustin has two girls who are thrilled to be having another baby brother. My heart is so full that I hardly know what to say. When I saw the pictures of the proud parents with their new, bewildered little one I just felt this overwhelming sense of love. That lucky child is going to be the beneficiary of a large, loving family who will smother him with love and kisses and lots of really cool birthday and Christmas presents.

He has lived this much of his life in a wonderfully loving, caring orphanage and will now be with two parents who love him so much and have waited for him for so long.

Welcome to the family, sweet boy.

Chin up!

As a writer, I've collected books on writing- the craft, all that nasty stuff like semantics, and the more helpful stuff that makes me feel good about what I'm doing, even when I wonder if the next book will be accepted for publication, if people actually read these things once they're in the stores, that kind of stuff.

I'll list some of the best titles I've found. They not only touch on the craft itself, but on the inspirational part that makes you remember why you wanted to write in the first place.

1. Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott. This is my writing bible. Followed closely by:

2. On Writing, by Stephen King. Truly the master of the compelling story.

3. Chicken Soup for the Writer's Soul. Yes, one of those dorky books. Such good snippets of writers' successes, some in the face of frustrating odds.

4. Rotten Reviews and Rejections, by Bill Henderson and Andre Bernard. You will die at who's been rejected before being published.

So, all things told, keep that chin up. Persistence pays off, and some of the best advice I've seen, and I've seen it numerous times, is to keep writing once you send off that book/article/whatever. Send it out into the world and then get back to work on your next project.

I heard Ray Bradbury speak at a Weber State Convocation some years ago and his suggestion was to always stay in love with whatever it is that makes you want to live forever. I remind myself of this when I start to worry about the publishing end of the business. First and foremost, the writing must happen or nothing else does.

In Defense of Cinderella

Okay, so this has absolutely nothing to do with anything of substance, but I've been thinking, lately, about Cinderella. The old one of Disney fame, not the newer versions.

When I was a girl, I loved this movie. As I got older, I still loved this movie, but felt like I shouldn't because Cinderella really was just a dork who was waiting to be rescued by a man.

Now that I've given it more thought, I've decided that the Cinderella of Walt Disney's creation was quite ahead of her time. Ok, so she didn't have the wherewithal to leave her nasty stepmother on her own to find gainful employment as a governess or ladies' maid somewhere, but she did the brave thing by going to the ball at all, even after she'd been totally roughed up by the stepsisters.

When my daughter was young, I let her watch Snow White, but every time that scene came on where she sings (in that horrible shotgun vibrato!) "I'm dreaming for the one I love, to find me...today..." I'd snap under my breath that she ought to be dreaming of a scholarship instead. But really, much as I hate to admit it because I think Snow White is ugly, she did the brave thing too, by running into the woods, away from the knife-wielding henchman and facing all the scary forest creatures. (Who really turned out to be cute and cuddly and most helpful). And then she set up shop in a house full of men and totally took charge.

So, as much as I took the feminist high road about a decade ago, I've come around to the belief that, although not optimal choices given today's world, those princesses did pretty well for themselves.

Plus, I really still want a Cinderella dress-up dress. (And a tiara).

Good reviews..bad reviews...ugh.

Can I really just shamelessly promote? I guess I can. It's my blog. I have to post a pic of my 1st Civil War book. The whole series is in the process of shifting to paperback, which is so much more affordable, of course. And it's been nice for me to see good reviews of this series as the years have gone on.

There are always a few bad reviews, and I do have to say it feels a bit like a slap in the face. Or a massive kick in the gut, depending on the tactlessness of the reviewer. You know, though, as a writer who aims for publication, you have to expect that you're opening yourself up for criticism and when people plunk down their hard-earned cash, they have a right to totally blast your baby to the nether regions of space.

So why is it that an author can get a gajillion good reviews, feel pretty good about things, and then get a few bad ones and feel absolutely horrible? Why is the bad stuff so much more powerful, so much easier to believe? Maybe it's the Eeyore in me coming out. It's a good thing I married a Tigger.

Well, when it's all said and done, I have this sage advice for new writers who are facing the harsh barbs of non-fans. Shake it off, read the good reviews, eat a pint of Hagen Daas, (throw it back up, depending on your level of guilt), and then get back to work.

In the excellent words of Judith McNaught (or perhaps I'll just paraphrase since I can't find the actual quote), you can't please all of the people all of the time, and you definitely cannot please those who don't want to be pleased. Some people don't want to be pleased by my work, and it's really ok. That's the beauty of multiple authors, multiple readers, multiple genres.

But a word to those who review- take a page from Jennie Hansen, reviewer extraordinaire for Meridian. You can be honest and still be kind.

My skin thanks you.

A Newbie Again

What's a girl to do when she's been out of the game for four years? Bravely jump back in.

Back in 2004, I was feeling pretty good about myself as a writer. I had just finished the fourth book of my Faith of our Fathers Civil War series. Life was good, the painful research was done, and I was ready to move on to something else for a while.

I had a baby.

Mmm hmm. No big deal, really. My husband I had two girls already, and they were 12 and 9. I figured I'd done it before, I could do the baby thing one more time. And it really did feel right, but cute as he was, he refused to sleep. So my writing came to a screeching halt.

Then husband went back to school for a Masters in School Counseling.

Mmm hmm.

So with no new books out and royalties beginning to decline, I decided to fall back on that reliable degree and teach for a bit. I taught 4th grade and still didn't write. I knew if I ever wanted to be a writer again, I had to get back into the groove.

So now I teach preschool three mornings a week and write while my almost 4-year-old son...still doesn't sleep much. But now he plays well while I type away.

The best news of all is that my newest book will be released in October. Isabelle Webb, Legend of the Jewel has been a long time in coming and it is, so far, my favorite of my 9 published books. The setting is 1865 British Colonial India, and the main character was a character in my Civil War series, so readers of those four books will recognize her.

My website will be up and running soon- I'm putting the final touches on it now. To my readers who have been so incredibly patient, I say a million thanks and I hope you enjoy Isabelle Webb.

Cheers!

A Newbie Again

What's a girl to do when she's been out of the game for four years? Bravely jump back in.

Back in 2004, I was feeling pretty good about myself as a writer. I had just finished the fourth book of my Faith of our Fathers Civil War series. Life was good, the painful research was done, and I was ready to move on to something else for a while.

I had a baby.

Mmm hmm. No big deal, really. My husband I had two girls already, and they were 12 and 9. I figured I'd done it before, I could do the baby thing one more time. And it really did feel right, but cute as he was, he refused to sleep. So my writing came to a screeching halt.

Then husband went back to school for a Masters in School Counseling.

Mmm hmm.

So with no new books out and royalties beginning to decline, I decided to fall back on that reliable degree and teach for a bit. I taught 4th grade and still didn't write. I knew if I ever wanted to be a writer again, I had to get back into the groove.

So now I teach preschool three mornings a week and write while my almost 4-year-old son...still doesn't sleep much. But now he plays well while I type away.

The best news of all is that my newest book will be released in October. Isabelle Webb, Legend of the Jewel has been a long time in coming and it is, so far, my favorite of my 9 published books. The setting is 1865 British Colonial India, and the main character was a character in my Civil War series, so readers of those four books will recognize her.

My website will be up and running soon- I'm putting the final touches on it now. To my readers who have been so incredibly patient, I say a million thanks and I hope you enjoy Isabelle Webb.

Cheers!