Writing by Candlelight

CYCLES!

2012-01-02T10:18:00.005-07:00

My good friend, Lois, just published her first young adult thriller, CYCLES. I highly recommend this book for your new kindle or e-reader.

Here is Lois to tell us about her book!

Just this week I e-published my debut novel CYCLES. I like to call it a Young Adult Thriller without the gore or bad language. (In other words, you shouldn’t worry about your teen reading it.)The e-book is available on Amazon, Smashwords, and Barnes & Noble PubIt. The hard copy will be available first of February 2012.

A little about the book. I started CYCLES in 2008. Crazy to think it has been that long. How did it start? I’m hesitant to admit it, but it was a dream. (I know, I know. That’s how Stephanie Myer and a bunch of other authors have gotten their ideas too. Nothing too original there.)

At the time, I had just been diagnosed with having Simple Partial Seizures. These kinds of seizures don’t affect motor skills, but they can affect all of your five senses (hence their other name: sensory seizures.) Mine created an odd mesh of symptoms, the most disconcerting of which was MASSIVE déjà vu. For those who are saying to themselves, “huh?” take a minute to read this article about the different types of seizures.

Now, when I say déjà vu, I don’t just mean a fleeting, “Oh, that was cool. It just felt like I’ve been here before.” No, when I had déjà vu as part of my seizures, time slowed to a crawl and everything around me faded in and out. It was like I had lived that moment a thousand times before in a different life.

Needless to say, it was weird. Period. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

Back to CYCLES. I went to bed one night thinking about my recent trip to the neurologist. In my sleep, I had a vivid dream where there was a girl who had frightening feelings of having already experienced things before but in another lifetime. It wasn’t like reincarnation—the same soul come back to earth to live as someone or something else. Instead, it was like her life just kept repeating itself and she had moments where these “other-life” memories were intensely strong.

I woke up and knew I was going to write a book about it, so I did. Three years later, it’s done. Voila. (That makes it sound much easier than it was, but I won’t go into the blood, sweat, and tears.)

I have to admit, I’m nervous to “put it out there.” Like anything in life, some people are going to like it and some will hate it. Part of being an author is learning to just keep at it (and to grow a thick skin).

CYCLES if the first book in a series. SPACES, its sequel, will be released in 2012.

Huge congrats, Lois, on your book! Watch this woman, people. She's headed for great things.

"Losing His Grip"

2011-10-18T18:41:00.002-06:00

I just published my first short story. A new experience for me as I spend 99% of my writing energy into novel-length fiction. I have to say it was a fun change that forced me to write about something completely different than what I'm used to.

Here's a little synopsis:

Grayson Banks is retired from life. After chronic arthritis forced him to leave a successful dental practice, Grayson resents everything and everyone, including his healthy wife. The hands that once provided for his family and gave him recognition now struggle to open a simple jar of jam. When a fluke snow storm strikes San Francisco, Grayson has one final chance to find meaning in life and repair the rift in his marriage. The question is: Can he hold on that long?

You can find it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords.

Check it out!

In Memory....

2011-05-30T18:48:00.002-06:00

"Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men."
Quintus Ennius

Today I went to the cemetery to pay tribute to loved ones lost. We scrubbed the weathered head stone with a brush and lime-away until it was free of dirt and debris.

Walking around the cemetery I saw so many people bringing flowers and staking pin-wheels to the ground. Entire families relaxed in camping chairs eating picnic food around a grave. Some wore smiles and received family with hugs and joy, while others wept, giving reverent attention to that space in their hearts that still hadn't quite healed. Tears of joy. Tears of pain.

So many stories...

Walking around the cemetery I found myself looking at the graves without mums and balloons. What was there story? Did they love? Did they have children? Did they make a difference in the world? Did they leave someone behind? In a hundred years, will my grave look as abandoned as theirs?

I don't mean to be morbid, but today really got me thinking about my own mortality. A keen reminder that we have only a short time to live. I mean REALLY live. A reminder that goals can't collect cob webs and relationships need extra fostering.

How will people remember you?

If you've ever had a dream....

2011-05-07T14:20:00.003-06:00

Have you ever had a dream? Something you've wanted and worked toward your whole life?

Clark Schaffer is a brilliant artist and friend. He's been helping Hollywood bigwigs make their movies for years. (yep, that's the Iron Man helmet he designed for the movie Iron Man 2. I wasn't lying, people. He's the real deal. )

His lifelong dream is to make his own films, and thanks to Kickstarter, he has about two months to make his dreams a reality. Check out this video about Clark and his movie CLEVERER. He's giving away some great prizes to those who help out with a donation. Even a few bucks will get my him closer to his dream of making his own film.

Please donate and pass it on!

If you want to learn how to get you're hands on that mask, Clark is actually giving it away. Find out about it here.

What? I'm not crying!

2011-05-03T22:02:00.004-06:00

I was watching [sorry, passive voice] this new show on NBC called Voice. Without spending too much time on the show premise, I'll just say this: It's a show about a group of talented artists trying to get their big break in the music industry.

A few people on the show who had been working for years to catch a break finally found it. I'm embarrassed to say that I actually found myself getting a little emotional when I saw the look of redemption on their faces. In one moment all of their hard work, all of their pining, all of their dreams that many people probably rolled their eyes at became reality.

What a beautiful moment! I absolutely LOVE when people who work and work and work toward a goal achieve it. When dreams are realized.

Elana Johnson, blogging superstar, friend, and author of Possession coming out June 7th with Simon & Schuster, is a perfect example of this.

Elana sent out over 180 query letters before signing with her literary agent. Speaking as someone who knows the easy depression that comes from even one person passing on your work, the fact that she kept believing in herself is really remarkable. This chick is busting into the literary world in a BIG way. I LOVE when people like Elana find success.

Check out her blog HERE. Pre-order her book HERE.

Keep working people. Don't give up until you get that sweet VINDICATION you deserve!

In Good Company

2011-04-25T15:47:00.004-06:00

What a crazy weekend! The Teen Author Boot Camp was Saturday. I had A BLAST hanging out with over 130 teens interested in writing.

Writers Cubed and UVU put the conference on with the help of eight brilliant authors. There were classes on Character Development (J. Scott Savage), Voice (Matthew Kirby), Dialog (Kristen Chandler), Imagination (Frank Cole), Plot (Kiersten White), Anti-Plotting (Elana Johnson), Heros and Villains (Sydney Salter), and the Publishing Process (Emily Wing Smith). We had such amazing feedback from teens that there is an extremely good chance this will become an annual event.

Thanks to everyone who made it possible. Especially the teens. You were all amazing!

BUZZZZZZZZZZZ!

2011-04-15T07:28:00.002-06:00

I had a reporter from the Daily Herald contact me wanting to know more about the Teen Author Boot Camp. If you don't already know, Writers Cubed (my writers group) is putting on a conference at UVU just for teens. Nine incredible authors are donating their valuable time to enlighten and inspire teens with ambitions to write novel length fiction. Very Cool.

With the Teen Author Boot Camp just over a week away, I thought I’d add to the buzz by throwing up the article. Check it out.

http://www.heraldextra.com/momclick/kids/article_1a71fe2e-5d5d-11e0-85cc-001cc4c03286.html

If you haven’t already registered for the conference it’s not too late. See registration details on the Writers Cubed events page. I can’t wait to meet all of you talented young authors! We' going to have a blast on April 23rd!

BUZZZZZZ!

Fact: Earning a $10 ITunes Gift Card is Awesome!

2011-03-30T17:08:00.005-06:00

FICTION: Doing it is hard work.

If you're looking for an easy way to increase your music collection then go to the Writers Cubed blog. They have a great contest going on this very moment to win a $10 itunes card. The rules are simple:

1. Go to their blog, become a follower, and make a comment. That puts your name into the drawing for the itunes card one time.

2. Mention the contest on Facebook, your personal blog, or Twitter. Be sure to include the link to their site and tell the Writers Cubed about it in your comment. Each of those things are worth two more entries into the drawing to make a total of seven entries--if you do all of them.

The contest runs from now until April 23rd.

Here's the link in case you didn't catch it up above:http://www.writerscubed.com/blog/

Review of Paranormalcy

2011-03-03T07:48:00.004-07:00

I'd like to welcome guest blogger, Lois Brown, author and friend. I asked Lois to review Kiersten White's NYT best-seller Paranormalcy. Feel free to hop on over to Lois's blog to learn more about her and her writing. Enjoy!

What’s your favorite paranormal?

Vampires, werewolves, zombies, or how about mermaids?

If you can’t decide, then PARANORMALCY, a New York Times best-selling young adult novel, is right up your alley. The author, Kiersten White, skillfully weaves a swarm of different creatures together in a story that feels much more human than not.

I immediately liked PARANORMALCY's main character, Evie. She has spunk, attitude, and the talent of seeing through a parnanormal’s glamour—a beautiful exterior that hides what is really underneath. Evie’s job is to round up these monsters and have them tagged by the International Paranormal Containment Agency.

Things begin to go awry, however, when Evie learns she is being watched by the IPCA because they believe she too is a paranormal--one of unknown origin.

Add a cute boy, a devious fairy, and a mysterious ruthless killer to the plot, and you have the makings for a great story.

I finished the book and handed it to my 14-year-old daughter. She confirmed my opinion when she couldn’t put the book down to come eat dinner. Just so you know, it's not like we were having split pea soup or anything gross like that. It was a tasty meal I'd made. (grin)

A sequel is coming out soon, and I look forward to reading it.

Kiersten is going to be the keynote speaker for a teen writing conference in Utah. If you know a teen who likes to read/write books, and if you live in Utah, check it out at www.writerscubed.com.

Dumpster Diving

2011-02-25T10:02:00.004-07:00

Ok, so I really am not a dumpster diver. It's not my thing, though as a kid my mom once forced us to knock on someone's door and ask if we could have a dresser they were throwing away. Embarrassing!!!

Figuratively speaking, dumpster diving is something I think we do to ourself emotionally from time to time. Sometimes when we're down, we like to wallow in emotional "filth." Life can be difficult. Often we find ourselves at the bottom of a too-tall dumpster. We lack the motivation to even try to escape it. Call it the blues. Call it depression. Call it what you want. But these feelings are real, and sometimes overwhelming.

Whether you consider yourself a writer or not, this emotional rain cloud has a bright silver lining. Some of the best scenes or stories I have written come to me when I speak from this place of seeming despair. I think the same can be true of any extreme emotion: Love, hate, jealousy, euphoria, etc. When we write a scene that reflects our mood, we can immerse ourselves more fully into the character's thoughts and setting with true empathy.

What we may not realize is that by giving these emotions voice through writing, we are not only creating something special, we are acknowledging our own feelings and unconsciously giving ourselves permission to heal. To move on.

Some times we are all going to go dumpster diving. I just hope that, whether you consider yourself a writer or not, you put pen to paper or fingertips to keys and express yourself. It can be the equivalent of shoving garbage to the wall of that dumpster and climbing your way out.

My Stars Shine Darkly

2011-02-16T23:08:00.002-07:00

"My stars shine darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate might, perhaps, distemper yours; therefore I shall crave of you your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you."

- Shakespeare

Today my stars shine darkly over me. I feel like I need to lock myself in a box so no one has to see my black mood. I don't have the energy to write in detail the events of last Saturday, but my friend, Lois, did a good job of it here.

I will say that a few of our little group of friends were with Tahsha the night she got the news about her husband's passing. We saw her face, heard her pain and the pain of her family. We will never forget the memory. Ever. We stood across the street from the hungry flames that ate away at Amy's home, her memories. We witnessed her pain as well. We grieve tonight for them both.

I wish there was some way to stop the churning awful aching in my stomach. I wish I could sleep, but with sleeps comes nightmares that I can't relive.

My stars shine darkly....

Teen Author Boot Camp

2011-01-29T23:08:00.002-07:00

The holidays were so crazy but I'm back to blogging. I can't wait to catch up with everyone and start reading blogs again.

I have big, big news! Writers Cubed and Utah Valley University are putting on a Writer's Conference for teens called the Teen Author Boot Camp. Check it out!

Registration is now open. If you know any teens who enjoy creative writing or have aspirations to write novel-length fiction please send them to the Writers Cubed website where they can find out more!

Big shout out to Kiersten White, J. Scott Savage, Elana Johnson, and all of the other amazing authors presenting at the conference. These people are incredible! Buy their books. Twice. :)

I'd love to hear what you guys think!

Cool Giveaway

2010-11-15T08:38:00.002-07:00

Kristi over at Random Daily Thoughts is doing a fun giveaway in honor of her reaching 200 followers. Go check it out!

We're Official!!!

2010-11-11T12:55:00.005-07:00

The WritersCubed website is officially LIVE. Go check out our blog, peruse our resources section, and learn a little about us while you're at it. We want this site to become a MUST for aspiring authors, so if you have any suggestions please comment on our group blog. We are now accepting ARCs for our Book Review section. If you would like us to write a review on the site, please email me at jennifer(at)writerscubed(dot)com. Also, if you would like a writing event listed in our Events section, go ahead and email me for that too.

Big thanks to all of the many authors, editors, agents and friends who have helped us launch this ship. Big thanks to Aaron Keck for building our website.

Now go check it out, and be sure to let us know what you think!

Winner Winner

2010-11-06T20:32:00.002-06:00

The "Clockwork Angel" book drawing ended yesterday! It was a crazy, crazy day so I apologize for announcing the winner a day late.

Are you ready?

Drum roll please...................(go ahead and make your own drum roll noise at home. It makes it more exciting. Trust me.)

Kristie from Random daily thoughts COME ON DOWN!

Thanks to everyone who participated!

The Breakup Scene

2010-10-31T22:48:00.002-06:00

My friend Jo is doing a little competition for Blogfest. You should go check it out on her blog HERE. Anyway, the object was to write a breakup scene and post it on your blog. I've been a slacker, but I did dig up a little something.

Have you ever dated a guy/gal who just didn't listen? If so, this little scene is for you:

Cindy never cared for dancing. Her hips and arms moved a half beat behind the rhythm, showing the world just how uncoordinated she felt. That was the thing about dancing. You had to give it everything without refrain to convince people your movements were intentional.

“You’re a natural!” Kevin shouted over the blasting speakers.

Cindy didn’t even try to correct him. Just like she didn’t even try to tell him how much she couldn’t stand his juvenile nightclub kick. Talking to Kevin was like talking to a bank teller. They had all the control, and you never knew if your mic was on.

“I’ll get us drinks,” he said, as the song ended.

“I just want a Coke,” Cindy called to his back. She walked to an empty table at the edge of the dance floor and melted into the hard-backed chair. She blew a clump of hair from her eyes and pulled at the plunging neckline of her sequined top. A gift from Kevin.

All she could think about were her warm moccasins and favorite mug at home. Even Kevin didn’t seem so bad after a little Chamomile and a good read.

He joined her with two dark drinks and one big grin. “This DJ sucks. We need to come back when Jorge is spinning.”

Cindy forced a smile and took a sip. It was Diet.

“Kevin?”

“I think I need to buy a new tennis racket,” he said massaging his shoulder.

“Kevin, I don’t think this is working.”

“The drink or my racket idea?”

She gestured between them. “This.”

Kevin stared at her with vacant emotion.

“I’m really sorry,” said Cindy.

He shook his head, as if awakening from a daydream. “So, you wanna dance?”

Thanks Jo for the fun contest. Speaking of contests, earlier this month I said I'd be giving away a copy of "Clockwork Angle" by Cassandra Claire. All you need to do is go to Margie's blog and become a Follower and leave a comment here saying you have. THAT'S IT! The drawing will be held this coming Friday, Nov. 5th. Tell your friends!

Scorch Trials

2010-10-12T08:52:00.001-06:00

I think many aspiring authors will agree that the journey to publication is a lonely, depressing experience. Well . . . your right. It is.

Kidding, kidding. I've actually met some inspiring people throughout my journey thus far. James Dashner is one of them.

I met James by accident. I went to one of Shannon Hale's book signings and while waiting in line to get my signed copy from Shannon I met James promoting his middle grade series, The 13th Reality. The line was long, and moved rather slowly, so in an awkward, I'm-not-here-to-see-you-but-lets-chat moment, I had the good fortune to get to know a little about James.

He really is one of the good ones. Humble, funny, and when he learned about my interest in writing provided encouragement and support. It wasn't the fake, "good for you" support that drips "You'll never make it." It was genuine. Right then I decided when I'm rich and famous and young authors are bugging me all the time, I'm going to be cool like James was to me that night at the King's English (bookstore in SLC).

Since then James has gone on to publish with Random House with his YA dystopian The Maze Runner. Book 2 of that series, The Scorch Trials, comes out today! Go buy his book. The first one rocked my world, and tonight I'm going to the very same little book store to buy the second. Only this time, I'm going to support James and not a different author.

Karma, people. It's an amazing thing.

Book Give-Away in Margie's Honor

2010-10-05T15:32:00.000-06:00

I've used the past few blog entries to introduce members of Writers Cubed, an amazing group of writers dedicated to giving back to the writing world. I'd like to continue with my good friend, Margie Jordan.

*I'M GIVING AWAY "CLOCKWORK ANGEL" IN MARGIE'S HONOR! You'll find details at the end of this post.

Margie Jordan, YA author and lover of all things action related, was born and raised in a small town one would call a quaint mixture of Andy Griffith and The Barrio, Spring Lake, Utah. She spent her childhood jumping from too-high branches in trees, rock climbing with no ropes, toilet papering the neighbors, and creating Indiana Jones-like obstacles courses, as well as dancing, singing, and acting. This mixture of salty and sweet has shaped her into the writer she is today. Margie graduated from UVU with a BS in Education and a minor in technology. She currently serves as a Literacy Coach for her local school district and lives in Spanish Fork, Utah with her husband and three children. With one ridiculously great manuscript under her belt, Margie is excited to add to her ‘finished’ stories.

Margie is constantly smiling and cracking jokes. She's saucy and snarky but at the same time, thoughtful and humble. I don't know how she pulls it off, but she totally does. She sees things that I don't see, constantly giving me a new perspective on a subject or character. Her writing is loaded with edgy voice that makes you laugh out loud.

She has one completed manuscript that she's currently agent shopping entitled DECEPTION VIRUS. It's a high-action, Dan Brown-for-teens novel, packed with surprising twists and turns, not to mention a killer romance . . . literally.

Here's a brief summary.

Lou had no reason to question the story of her father's sudden death in a car crash. That is, until her mother was taken hostage. With the help of her two best friends and the hot new kid from school, she must follow cryptic clues planted by her deceased father. She learns of her father's development of a fatal, uncontrollable biological weapon called the Deception Virus. In this high action, high romance tale of deception and science Lou must unlock her father's clues, save her mother, and keep the Deception Virus out of evil hands. She does this all while trudging through a tough grieving process for her lost father. Margie once described it as "grieving on steroids."

This only gives you an unworthy glimpse into Margie's "smart YA" tale. I had the hardest time trying to decide what excerpt to give you. I had to find something that wouldn't give away some major plot twists while showcasing her writing. I got so caught up in the manuscript that I ended up reading most of it in the process. Deciding between yummy romance, some killer action, and one of the many hilarious exchanges between Lou and her two best friends, I settled on this.

Setting the stage: Lou is captured by the CIA who is holding her illegally in a cell. They're using isolation tactics to get her to crack and give up important information. Enjoy!

Lou didn’t know when she fell asleep. She had been drifting in and out for how long? Days? Weeks? This room was her life. With nothing to do but lay, pace, and think, thoughts began to jumble. When she started the ‘One Hundred Bottles of Beer’ song in her head—a song she hated—Lou knew she was losing it.

She had heard about and seen solitary confinement on T.V. shows and movies, had watched as people became crazy, ripping their hair out and talking to themselves. There is no way it is actually that bad, she told herself then. What kind of person loses it just because he has to be alone?

Well apparently, she was that kind of person. Every passing hour made her skin itch a little more and the walls shrink to a little less. She tried to breath and clear her thoughts, but couldn’t. The next time she heard someone say they were ‘bored out of their mind’, she would pummel them. That is, if she ever got out of here.

The only memories that eased her mind were the ones of Jay. Just having him around as a figment of her imagination was calming. She missed him more and more, until it turned into a hollow ache that wouldn’t subside. First dad, then mom, then . . . everyone and everything.

She started pacing again, around and around the bed. Meal built upon meal. Besides the granola bar, they had also given her a peanut butter sandwich and some stale Cheetoes. At one point, they slipped in a microwavable Hot Pocket she couldn’t even finish eating because the outside burned her tongue and the inside was still frozen. By the time, a slice of Tostino’s pepperoni pizza slipped in, she pretty much begged to talk to someone.

“Hey you, with the food,” she shouted. But no one answered. She smelled herself. Whew, she was ripe. If she didn’t get a shower soon, she was going to gag on her own stench. However, she did shovel down the pizza and sip from the water bottle they sent with the meal.

She looked around at the empty food containers and water bottles and thought, ‘Are they ever going to come and pick this stuff up?’ Her closet room looked like a garbage dump. The toilet needed some serious cleaning.

More time passed. A couple more “meals”, if you could call them that, came through the door. Still no word. No contact with anyone. Lou started singing songs to herself and reciting old school memorizations. She actually yelled when she couldn’t remember all the words to the Gettysburg Address and had no way of finding out what they were. “Abraham Lincoln would never have done this to a seventeen year old girl,” she said out loud.

More quotes about freedom ran through her mind, until she thought of the perfect one. Lou stood up on the cot, as if addressing a throng of admirers. She bowed a couple of times to each side, cleared her throat, and said, “In the words of Patrick Henry…” She put her hands up and down as if shushing a crowd. “I know not what others may choose, but as for me—“ She yelled the ending as loud as she could “Give me Liberty or Give Me Death!” She stood, panting with the injustice in her heart.

Suddenly, her foot slipped off the edge and she landed with a bump on the mattress. Lou waited to see if anyone would come. She counted seconds, then minutes. Nothing! Lou finally turned on her side and curled up into the fetal position.

She closed her eyes and whispered into the white room, “I hate you right now, dad. I felt bad about saying it before. But I finally think you deserve it. Why would you do this to me? First, you were never around when I most needed you to be. Then you ended up getting yourself…” she trailed off and let the anger grow. “Now you’ve just deserted me. You could at least come out and defend yourself. Come on. At least have the courtesy to be angry back. I’m waiting for you to come yell at me.”

He didn’t answer. Of course.

Check out Margie on her blog at Spin Me Write Round. It's a guaranteed laugh. I promise. Become a follower of her blog and mine before the last day in October and post a comment here to let me know you have, and I'll enter your name in a drawing for Cassandra Claire's new book, "Clockwork Angel." Make sure to include your email with your comment.

Lois Brown-Writers Cubed

2010-06-29T13:37:00.000-06:00

Lois Brown is an expert.

The statement doesn't require specifics. She's just an expert. It doesn't matter what she's doing.

Lois graduated with a bachelor's in journalism and a master's in communication. After college she worked as a news correspondent in Washington, D.C. I can just see her grilling politicians and lobbyists on important issues in the Rose Room. The thought makes me smile. She did some time working in the corporate world as a communications specialist and eventually turned to freelance editing and ghostwriting for several New York Times best-selling authors. In 2004 she self-published a book on overcoming stress and anxiety and was invited to teach at BYU's Education Week and other conventions and speaking engagements.

Fiction writing didn't make her to-do-list until about a year and a half ago. She's on her way to conquering that mountain too. It's only a matter of time before some lucky agent scoops her up and benefits from her brilliance and work ethic.

I love Lois because she gets things done. She sets out to do something, and does it. Considering her impressive resume, she is completely humble. She's a master editor and has taught me so many things about writing and publishing. We in Writers Cubed are lucky to have her!

Lois writes middle grade fiction. Her book "Cycles" is a middle grade mystery with elements of science fiction. It speaks strongly to young people negotiating the challenges of Junior High with just enough romance to satisfy her audience.

Here's my back of the book attempt:

Thirteen year-old Renee doesn't know she's just weeks away from dying . . . again. After a bad horseback riding accident she is taken to the hospital where they test her blood for a necessary transfusion. Her blood is unlike anything the doctors have ever seen. By a strange coincidence, her next-door neighbor, Dr. Dawson, happens to have some of her blood stored in his basement. When Renee and best friend Sam learn she is not her parents biological daughter, they work together to unlock the mysteries of her birth. If they can't find answers and escape the evil people following them, Renee will loose herself to another cycle. Another death.

Here's an excerpt:

“Come here boy,” Renee called. The horse moved toward her, and she gently attached the tether to keep him still, not because he needed it but because it was the rule. Carefully sitting on an old stool so splintered that one quick move would result in a backside of slivers, she ran the brush over Mercury's sleek dark coat in her familiar pattern—a spiral. Her mother called it a doodle and said it was one of Renee's most annoying habits. Spirals were all over the phone book, her homework, and the newspaper. Even in her mashed potatoes.

The barn's worn, weathered walls stood in stark contrast to the high-tech security system that Dr. Dawson had installed last year after the deadly horse epidemic. Metal bars guarded the windows, and the large front sliding door was equipped with electronic deadbolts. Each time she entered, Renee had the impression she'd been there a thousand times before. In reality, she'd only been helping with her neighbor's rare horse since the beginning of summer.

She settled into the rhythm of brushing, allowing herself a quick fantasy about riding Mercury. She never had, of course. Not with Dr. Dawson being so paranoid.

At first she didn't notice the voices outside. Their hushed tones blended with the wind blowing in from the Diablo Mountains to the east. But a loud rattle awoke her from her daydream.

A man and woman talked to each other while one of them tried to pull the barn door off its hinges. At least that's what it sounded like to Renee. Puzzled, she stepped forward to help them open it but then stopped. These people don't have the code. They're trying to break into the barn. The thought made her throat turn dry, and she couldn't swallow.

“The electricity to the barn should have been disabled by now. What's holding it up?” said the woman.

A deep groan followed more clattering.

“I don't know,” the man finally answered. He tugged a few more times. “I'll go see.” His loud footsteps faded into the distance.

Renee fell to the floor behind two bales of hay and stopped breathing—or at least tried to. As she hid, she heard lighter footsteps—probably those of the woman—circling the barn. Obviously the intruders had one thing on their minds, to steal Mercury. She put her head into her hands and rubbed her forehead. How could she get herself and Mercury out of the barn without getting hurt? She lifted herself to her knees and crawled toward the tack area. Standing up, she then hoisted the lightest pad and saddle off the wall. The dust from the leather seat flew into her eyes, and she blinked several times trying to wash away the gritty feeling. She needed to see clearly.

Holding the equipment tightly in her arms, she returned to where Mercury was tethered. He nuzzled her neck.

“Don't worry, boy. I'm going to keep you safe,” she whispered.

Big thanks to Lois for letting me brag about her. She really is a great writer, editor, and friend. Check out Lois and learn more about her published works on her blog and her website.

Writing What you Know

2010-06-13T00:57:00.000-06:00

I spent a good portion of my youth living in New England where the Boston Cream Pie was born. Like me, my husband loves them. So what better way could I honor his birthday than to make him a Boston Cream Cake? Here's a picture of what the cake is suppose to look like.

Now I'm not a bad cook. Unlike many woman I know, I actually enjoy cooking. It relaxes me. But this recipe was HARD! I'm embarrassed to show you this picture, but in the interest of illustrating my point I'll swallow a little pride.

Happy Birthday Clint!

Sad, huh? I made it in something of a rush.

How often as writers do we get a grand story or character idea that we don't have the knowledge base to support? I know I just finished writing a story about a blacksmith because I thought I could easily make him burley and sexy. A real man. No sparkles required. What did I know about blacksmiths? Very little.

So often we are told to write what we know. Well, I really have a problem with that. Clearly I knew nothing about making this type of cake. As my good friend Jo would say, EPIC FAIL! But I won't let that stop me from trying it again. And again. And again, if that's what it will take to get it right.

Just as I will not let my current knowledge base limit me from writing what I want to write.

I believe it is our job as writers to become experts at what we write. We need to know what it feels like to shoot that bow and arrow if we're using them in our stories. We need to try rock climbing, experience the rush of sailing, test drive that viper that we used as our "getaway" car, go visit a medical lab, or have a bon fire on the beach. How can we truly capture an experience in words if we have not lived it or studied it?

So, Yes! for heaven's sake write what you know. But get off your butt and live so your reader won't have to read about faxing mail orders or changing diapers or turning right at a red light. To be a writer you have to be willing to live. To conquer fears. To study a subject till you're sick to death of it. To take chances. To be absolutely reckless at times.

Who knows? After all of the experiencing and studying you might just find yourself eating a pretty awesome slice of Boston Cream Cake.

I fully intend to.

James Lewis- Writers Cubed

2010-06-06T23:30:00.000-06:00

So I have to apologize to James. I sort of skipped him in my Writers Cubed line-up. I'm trying to do this alphabetically, and you'd think I would have put him before Jo. I can hear my first grade teacher's voice in my head right now, "No, Jenny, The 'a' comes before the 'o'."

Don't let my alphabetizing blunder make you think James is a forgetful member of the Cubed family. On the contrary, he his one of only two Y chromosomes in the bunch, and just happens to have a great mind for writing and story. In fact, I just spent a good hour driving home from Vegas explaining James's brilliant story twist to my husband. It was seriously that good.

First thing's first. James is one of the youngest in a family of 14 kids. He grew up in American Fork, Utah and loves camping and the outdoors. You might think he's shy until you get to know him. Then, WATCH OUT! He entered writing novel-length fiction thanks in part to a passion for film. James initially planned for his book, Black Sam, to be a screen play, but caught the novel bug and hasn't looked back since. James is our resident super hero. By day, he works for some fancy computer company doing heaven knows what for Corporate America. At night, he transforms into a passionate writer, determined to capture the whole scope of his historical tale. Basically, we keep him around for his good sense of humor, valuable tech skills, and his citris-mint chapstick.

Of anyone in the group, I would have to name James our master of dialog. Where I would take paragraphs to set a mood and relay character emotion he can do it in only a sentence. Sometimes only a word. I constantly find myself laughing out loud when I read his stuff. It's that clever.

Lets talk about his story:

Black Sam is based on the true story. I would call it historical fiction with a healthy serving of adventure, a generous side of romance, and a strawberry twist at the end that will literally have you screaming! (good screaming, not the bad, ax-murderer kind).

Here's a quick blurb:

Sam Bellamy never intended on becoming a pirate. After traveling across the Atlantic to accept his captains papers, Sam learns his uncle/benefactor is bankrupt. In Sam's mind, this is only a minor setback in his lifelong goal of becoming a sea captain. While laying the foundation for his future in America, Sam crosses paths with Maria, daughter of one of the most affluent families in New England. Unwilling to bow to the social chasm separating them, Sam turns to the high seas to recover Spanish gold lost in a shipwreck off the Florida coast. If he can not gain sufficient riches and title, he may never gain enough social and financial clout to petition Maria's father for her hand.

You get two excerpts for this one. (Initially, I had just planned on the first three paragraphs of the book, but then decided you really should get a taste of that dialog I bragged about).

Chapter One SHIPWRECK

April 26, 1717 - Whydah Gally - Cpt. Samuel Bellamy - One hundred forty six souls

The dark sea boiled with large angry waves that slapped the tiny ship back and forth as if it were a toy. The storm caught the ship and her crew by complete surprise. As damning as a storm of this magnitude was to a ship, rocks and sandbars were her true enemies, and so the battle for position raged on.

Captain Sam Bellamy stood at the Helm. His large veins popped as his hands gripped tight. Tall, and proud, he was a striking figure. His long black hair once tied in a ribbon, now whipped across his face in wet sticky strands. His soaked shirt revealed a muscular body.

When the storm hit, he had dropped anchor hoping to stop the ship from drifting closer to its demise, but the storm felt no resistance from such a minuscule instrument, and pulled it without effort through the silt and mud. The ship moved closer to shore, and all Bellamy could do was watch. His crew, battle weary, but loyal to their beloved leader, held on to whatever they could, and what little hope was left for survival. They were in the middle of pulling down the sails, when the worst of it hit. Pieces of the tattered canvas still fluttered in the twisted rigging. They could not change the situation, and so they watched and waited.

Here's the dialog excerpt. This scene takes place right after Sam meets Maria.

Sam leaned against a wall in Paulgrave’s office. A smile or an occasional daydream was usual for Sam. However, it was a combination of both that made Paulgrave Williams take notice.

“Okay, who is she?” Paulgrave said breaking the temporary silence.

Sam smiled. “Why whatever do you mean?”

“What is her name?”

Sam laughed. “I actually don’t know her name.”

“How sentimental of you.”

“I just met her this morning, at the cemetery.”

“I really should be surprised by that I think.”

“It was only a brief moment, but it was all I needed.”

“You’re easily pleased.”

“I can’t help it, there was something about her. And she was incredibly beautiful.”

“So what are you telling me exactly? That you’re going to marry this complete stranger who you met in a cemetery less than two hours ago?”

“Well you don’t have to make it sound so weird.”

Good, huh? James has so much talent with words and humor. I sometimes want to just sit back and have him write some of my dialog sequences. I see it going something like this:

"James. I need you to please help my characters convey emotions while showing voice and entertaining the heck out of my reader. Ready. Set. Go!"

The cool thing is, he'd probably do it for any of us in Wrtiers Cubed. He's just a nice guy like that. Big thanks to James for letting me shine a little light on his work. I know he's in the process of moving his blog, but I think you can still check in on him at this link.

Anything to Avoid my Re-write

2010-06-01T00:52:00.000-06:00

One of my good friends posted this celebrity look-alike thing on her blog. If you want to try it go to myheritage.com. I found it to be a nice way of avoiding my re-write. Kind of fun, if you are looking for ways to hide from your manuscript.

I was fine with the Scarlet and Mandy Moore comparisons, but what the crap is up with me looking like Sally Field?!

Celebrity Collage by MyHeritage

2010-06-01T00:51:00.001-06:00

MyHeritage: Family trees - Genealogy - Celebrities - Collage - Morph

Writers Cubed

2010-05-28T00:25:00.000-06:00

For more than a year, nine authors have met twice a month to discuss and critique writing. All of us write novel-length fiction. All are deeply committed to the craft. All have recently started, or will soon be starting the submission process. We are family. I've introduced you to two of the nine. The next spotlight is coming soon.

Our website is under construction right now, and in the process of branding our little society, some concerns about our name have risen. Long story short, we are now officially Writers Cubed. There's a lot of cool symbolism attached to this name. If you're into numerology drop me a line and we can geek talk about it. My email is jennifer(at)writerscubed(dot)com.

My favorite thing about the Cubed idea is equality. All sides are equal. The strength of the angles in a cube are three times greater than any one independent part. Together we will do great things.

Watch out world! Get ready to think inside our box! (too cheesy? Ok, I'll keep trying)

Jo Schaffer

2010-05-26T10:45:00.000-06:00

The next author I'd like you to meet is Jo Schaffer. Jo has been writing forever. Natural, healthy, well read, therapist, character expert, validator, friend . . . Jo is always up for a late night of hardcore editing/socializing, and makes the meanest carmel popcorn you've ever tasted. YUM!

Jo brings so much energy to our meetings. She's real. I love that I know what I'm getting with this girl. Jo is a poet. She finds ways of taking the seemingly mundane and tweaking it so the reader can experience it for the first time all over again. More than once I've thought of high-jacking a line or two for my own devices. Jealousy can do crazy things to a person. :)

Jo writes YA urban fantasy laden with universal truths and literary bent. The woman can WRITE. She knows her characters as well as I know my own mother. She grew up in Northern California, studied British Literature at BYU London, and majored in English with a writing emphasis at BYU. Currently Jo lives in Spanish Fork, Utah with a talented artist for a husband, and three handsome boys. Jo is a spiritual soul. Her energy is always so positive and selfless. Sometimes I wonder if she has special powers, not unlike her main protagonist- Karma.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's talk about her manuscript.

More Than Karma is the story of a girl who believes she is a walking curse. Bad things happen to people around her . . . even those she loves. Burdened with this ability to hurt others, Karma is taken on a journey of self-discovery where she must learn to not only wield her powers, but find the courage to cement her identity.

That's all I'm giving you. Jo is just beginning the query process with this manuscript and she might kill me if I divulge more. Let me just say, IT'S SO GOOD! Definitely keep an eye out for this girl. She will do great things.

Here's an excerpt: (Sorry about the funky format)

That evening Daniel knocked on Karma’s door. Luckily, her mother wasn’t home.

“Hi,” he said in a low voice.

“Hi.” Karma ran a hand through her bangs.

“Can I come in?” Daniel asked with pleading brown eyes, and a persuasive smile.

“Sure.” Karma opened the door for him, her pulse quickening. They sat in the

front room on a couch that faced the window to the front yard.

Daniel looked like an Abercrombie model. Sometimes Karma’s insides jumped when she saw him and her breath caught when he smiled at her. This was no intellectual or intimate bonding of souls, but a physical, and electric response, like now. This was new. Karma noticed his cologne, the way he watched her, his confident walk, and the definition of his biceps when he wore his basketball jersey. He stood a foot taller than her. She wondered what it would be like when they kissed. She would have to stand on her tiptoes.

Often, Karma imagined kissing him, her arms around his neck on the steps of the high school. Their mouths matched up just right if she stood on the step above him. It hadn’t happened yet, but she felt it coming. If the songs were true, falling in love felt like this.

“Are you going to watch me play tonight?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Adorable.

The basketball season was over, but there were competitive “friendly” games with players from both nearby schools—to stay loose. It was amazing how many people came. Not a lot to do in Panners Glee.

“My team could be skins,” Daniel added with a glint in his eye.

Karma blushed. “Michelle has the Volvo tonight and said she could drive us.”

“Good.” He gazed at her. “Let’s do something after the game. I have a

cool idea, something we haven’t done before.”

“No more bowling?” Karma laughed and twisted her earring.

“Not tonight.” Daniel’s smile dazzled her.

Some part of Karma’s mind wondered at the phenomenon: same boy, same

smile as last month, but today it shot rays of feeling through her body. She blushed deeper, and turned shyly away. Her black hair fell against her cheek. The affect was something like a pink sunset darkening into a shimmering, night sky. Daniel reached over to hold her hand for the first time.

Again, that's all I'm giving you. Check out Jo's Blog. Become a follower. She's always doing cool contests and posts. Who knows? Maybe you will be able to say "I followed Jo Schaffer back before she sold her book and became a millionaire."

I know I'm banking on that. :)

Say tuned for BIG NEWS about changes in MMWG!

The Fear on Their Faces

2010-05-16T14:52:00.000-06:00

Some of my friends have a running joke about fear. One of us has an affinity for scaring people. I'm not talking about jumping out of closets or fake spiders scaring. This person is willing to wait in the attic of an old cabin for twelve hours for the chance to "See the Fear on Their Faces."

Why is it so exciting to witness fear? Better still, why is it exciting to put ourselves in scary situations? Haunted Houses, Sky Diving, Bull Riding. Or in my case, coming face to face with the very animal that killed the Crocodile Hunter.

Let me introduce you to Giant Stingray professional, Dexter. Like Madonna, or J-Lo, no last name is required.

Dexter lives on the island of Grand Cayman. For a screamin' deal, he will take you out on his Catamaran, forty-five minutes off-shore, to a natural sandbar in the middle of the Caribbean. Dexter explained that for years fishermen would come to clean their fish at this convenient location, attracting Giant Stingrays anxious for an easy meal of fish heads and guts.

He waits until you're in the boat to tell you how to avoid ticking off this HUGE creature. The wingspan of these birds of the ocean average about four to five feet. Swishing behind rubbery wings is a four to five foot tail. The six inch stinger makes a dangerous point at the end.

We all nod our heads, and I look around at my fellow adventurers with a smile on my face--waiting for the part that says these are special Giant Stingrays whose stingers were removed or who live in this wildlife sanctuary and are tame.

I waited . . . and waited. I waited through his instructions to keep my feet firmly planted on the ocean floor, because if I step on a stingray, I will be stung. I waited through his explanation to not panic when they rub up against me because sudden movements also trigger attacks. I waited through these instructions, looking at everyone on that boat with my best "what a kidder" smirk. As the moments passed, and the serious looks and nods of the people around me didn't crack, I realized that this was real.

I was going to die in the middle of the Caribbean.

One by one, people jumped in, and determined not to be left behind, I followed.

I even held one.

"So Jen," I hear you asking yourself, "what's the big deal? How does this pertain to writing?"

Simple. As writers, fear is our biggest enemy. We're afraid we will never be able to justify the time spent crafting a novel. We fear that people will hate our book once it's finished. We fear that we are kidding ourselves to think we can write something worthy of publication. And then there's the big fear of REJECTION.

I'm terrified of all these things too. This week I'm submitting a partial manuscript to Laura Rennert, a Top-Dog in the literary agenting world. There's a good chance I'll get stung. But I, like the rest of us every day we choose to believe in ourselves and sit down to write, am going to jump into that damn water and have an amazing experience. Fear will not keep me from trying.

Will it keep you?

What fears are you facing right now?

MMWG-Amy McKay

2010-05-10T21:05:00.001-06:00

Amy Mckay is the resident super-woman of the Maple Mountain Writers Guild (MMWG). She is the mother of seven children. You read that right, SEVEN! But what she might not realize is her maternal instincts extend well beyond her home. She is our "Kanga." It is perhaps her ability to care for others that makes her such an intuitive writer.

There is so much to love in our Amy. I love that she pretends to be shocked when something less than respectable escapes my lips. I love the positive words of encouragement that always seem to come right when I need them most. I love her laugh-- it's that hearty, head-back laugh that compels everyone around her to join in.

Amy, maybe more than anyone else in our close-knit group, helps me stay grounded. Though she appreciates the talents God has given her, she would never place her love for writing before family--especially her kids. We're so lucky to have her humble and informed contribution in MMWG.

Amy's writes emotionally charged fiction. I call it heavy fiction because it shines light on heavy social issues. She's an expert at connecting readers emotionally with characters. Her novel-length manuscript, "Crystal," brought me to tears in only the first chapter.

Here's a brief blurb I wrote for "Crystal" followed by an excerpt found in Chapter 5 of the story.

When an abusive "sort-of-step-father" abandons them without food or money, twelve year old Crystal is determined to keep secret the fact that she and her little sister, Megan, are living alone. If Crystal can't find food and money to pay the rent, she and Megan will be split up and placed in separate homes. This inspiring story of positive thinking and love will make you believe that you, like Crystal, can achieve great things through positive thinking and hard work.

"Crystal ripped a sheet of paper out of her notebook and tore it into several smaller sheets. On each one she wrote one of three items: "Rent paid," "lots of food," and “safety.” Then she taped them all over the house in areas that she would see. But, she was careful to put them in places where she hoped Greg wouldn’t notice. She put them in several places in her room, on the side of the refrigerator, next to a chair in the family room, next to a chair that Greg never sat in, and several other places.

“Now, Megan, every time you see one of these notes I want you to say the words twenty-five times. Got it?”

“Got it.” Megan said with a thumbs up. Crystal smiled inwardly at that action. She was glad her little sister didn’t seem worried. She wished she could say as much. But, she was worn out. She was going through the motions of hope but she had to admit that she struggled.

Crystal explained the importance of their thoughts to Megan in helping them get what they want. She instructed her on what to think and how to “see” it in her minds eye.

“We need food and we need the rent to get paid.” She explained. “So focus on that.”

She began their dreaming session that night with a heavy heart focused on those things. Then Megan wanted her turn. She dreamed of real beds and bikes to ride. But Crystal wasn’t listening. She silently wiped away the tears that spilled over her hot cheeks. What was wrong with her? What about the Magic of Believing? She should be happy and excited with her new found knowledge and she was. But, she was tired of being afraid at night. She was tired of being hungry. Tired of worrying about the things that adults were suppose to worry about. She wanted to be able to do the things that twelve year old girls do. She wanted the stress and fear to be lifted off her shoulders. She wanted to be rescued."

Thanks to Amy, for letting me recognize her. Visit Amy on her blog! Stay tuned for another MMWG author spotlight!

Self-Editing

2010-04-30T08:47:00.000-06:00

Last night was wild. (I should have showed that, but instead I've decided to tell you before I show you. Huge writing blunder. One of my favs.)

I'm not sure if I should go into a great amount of detail about last night. In fact, I know I shouldn't. Let me just say, I was up editing my novel until 4:00 in the morning. The thought of revisiting my book today makes me want to stick my fingers into a blender and press the puree button. Ok, that was a little graphic, but you get the idea.

Self-Editing can do that to a person. It can take you from the huge high of having your manuscript requested to the deep, dark swamp of self-doubt and loathing. One minute you're a literary genius about to grace the world with your awesomeness, the next, you're curled up in the fetal position gasping for breath. Dramatic? Totally. But that's the nature of this beast we call writing. There are highs and lows. In the end, we need to focus on the bigger picture. The end result. (Imagine me looking in the mirror, trying to psych myself up. Working to see passed the heavy bags under my eyes and to block out the sound of my kids arguing in the next room. Can you say, HEADACHE?!)

Fields

2010-04-25T21:28:00.000-06:00

I've spent the last year working on a manuscript I call FIELDS. It is the story of a 15 year old girl suffering from a chronic addiction of the most unusual nature. She's an eavesdropper.

I'm starting a third rewrite before officially beginning the submission process, but just wanted to thank all of my preliminary readers for taking the time to improve my story. You know who you are.

I also want to give my impressive cyber following (tee hee) the opportunity to meet a most extraordinary group of authors known as the Maple Mountain Writers Guild. For the coming weeks I will showcase a new up-and-coming talent. Many of these writers are well on their way to breaking into the publishing world. All are incredible artists dedicated to honing their craft. Can't wait for you to meet them.

Thanks again!

I'm Too Proud

2010-01-23T18:44:00.000-07:00

I had an out of body experience yesterday. It was one of those half hours that seriously could have been a scene from a movie. I was at Deseret Book in SF picking up some helps for my son's talk on Sunday. While looking for some new reading material for him, a woman noticed me looking at a new little chapter book series. She asked how old my reader was and then went on to say her daughter had written these books and happened to be in the store doing a signing. I flipped the book over and found the Shadow Mountain publishing logo.

This cute mother then goes off about what a great exciting experience this whole "publishing thing" has been for them. Her daughter is seventeen. That's right: one-seven. "She had this cute little idea about ..... and then we wrote one of those cover letter thingies"

"A query." I say with no infliction in my voice.

"Yeah, I think that's what they're called. Anyway, they put her under contract to write ten of these things. Can you believe it! Ten."

"Wow." It's all I can say.

As if this wasn't enough, she goes on to ask how I know Chris Schoebinger (the acquisitions editor from SM) and learns that I too am a writer striving to get published. I mentioned my writing group and the woman says. "Oh, well I'm sure my daughter would be willing to come and speak. Although, this is her first attempt at writing a story, and she doesn't know much about the industry yet."

Of course I was kind. Of course I didn't say the million evil things racing through my proud heart. I bought the book, had the senior in high school sign the copy, and left the store. I took one step off the curb and an SUV came racing around the corner and splashed a GIGANTIC puddle of water all over my freshly cleaned white shirt. As writers, we are sometimes prone to exaggeration, but I promise you I'm being completely honest. I threw up my hands and yelled from the top of my lungs, "Really? Really?!"

Needless to say, it was a low moment for me. Later I felt embarrassed by my behavior. Sometimes it hard to watch your dreams fall in the lap of someone else--especially when that someone hasn't put in the time and effort you feel you have. I walked in the door, turned on the TV, and watched the benefit for Haiti program on CNN. It only took about a minute for me to feel guilty for my ridiculous tantrum. I'm blessed in so many ways. I love writing for the sake of writing. If no one buys my story, I'll still have clothes on my back (so what if they're soaked and muddy) and a roof over my head. I'll have the knowledge that my family is safe and healthy. What else matters?

Maple Mountain Writer's Guild

2009-12-14T15:43:00.000-07:00

Twice a month I meet with an incredible group of people. Talented, creative, side-stitch funny, and the most supportive bunch that ever graced the writing world. I present, with love, the Maple Mountain Writer's Guild. We all lead extremely different lives, but share a common passion: We write novel-length fiction.

This is a picture from our Christmas Party. To steal a phrase from Mitzie (far left): "Bask in our awesomeness!"

As Requested

2009-12-10T13:45:00.000-07:00

Little Boston is approaching the four month mark. I can't believe he's growing so fast! Here are some pics. (I had to include one of Liberty and Casey as well.)

A Living Nativity

2009-12-08T09:55:00.000-07:00

Last night I had the good fortune of attending a "Living Nativity" with my family up in Alpine. My sweet mother crocheted scarves for all nine grandchildren, we bundled them up in their snow clothes, and headed out.

After an adventurous shuttled ride, we were greeted by a sheperd who told us the story of the nativity around a fire before sending us off to experience the magic. And magical it was! Roman Soldiers, dress in full uniform, on horseback petitioned us for taxes as we made our own personal journey to Bethlehem. Along the way we meet Joseph, Mary, and the donkey that carried her, as well as children in authentic little tents playing Christmas music

Once we arrived in Bethlehem, we entered a huge lodge filled with animals, merchants of the time, and craftsmen. I'm talking three gigantic camels, sheep, geese, goats, etc. Casey got to pretend he was buying a sack of oats; weighing the grain using a scales system used around the time of Christ.

After we left the crowded busy city of Bethlehem we followed the imfamous star to a quiet stable. I can't tell you how special it was to see Mary and Joseph kneeling before their sweet baby. Yes, it was a real baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. As a mother, I was so impressed with my children. They went from bouncing around and the excitment of the animals to complete and utter reverence. I think we all felt the sweet spirit that entered our hearts at this miraculous sight. I honestly can't think of a better way to celebrate the season.

And the cost . . . Free.

There had to be at least sixty people volunteering their time in this crazy Christmas season. They did have a donation table were you could donate to Operation Smile and the Huntsman Cancer Insitute. This was all inspired by their mother who died from painkriatic cancer. She wanted her children to come up with a fundraiser to give back to the Huntsman Cancer Inst. after all the assistance they provided for her before her passing.

To all involved with this great production- Thank you. Thank you for helping my children come a little closer to their Savior. Thank you for reminding us, in such a tender way, of the true meaning of Christmas. Thank you.

My Husband Died Today...

2009-11-09T23:51:00.001-07:00

Don't freak out! Clint didn't really die. I'll justify my blog title, just keep your pants on and give me a minute.

First of all, I just want to say how grateful I am that Clint didn't die tonight. Life without him would be just a gray ugly mess of loneliness and longing. It would be forever cold nights and empty days.

There. Now I'll fill you in on my evening...

I knew he was leaving me to go buy cars at an auto auction in California tonight. His plane was scheduled to take off some time around 8:00. You have to understand, just before Clint boards a plane he sends me a deliciously adorable text telling me to kiss the kids and expressing his love for me. I look forward to those little endearments. It's the only good part of him leaving. Tonight was no different. I read the text and went to reply when I had this panicky feeling come over me. It was so strong I thought I might vomit in my lap. This is the last time I'll ever see or hear from him again. Yep, folks. I had the distinct impression that he wasn't going to land in one piece.

I've heard of people overreacting like this before sending loved ones to fly the friendly skies, but I'm not one of those people. My pragmatic approach to life as a pilot's daughter NEVER has included the irrational paranoia of flying. Nope never. So you can imagine my fear at this little revelation (for lack of a better word). Clint was going to die. He needed to get off that plane! So I did what any level-headed woman would do in this situation: I called him to tell him he would not be able to take the trip his company was depending upon him to take. Nope. I had a "bad feeling" and he would just have to ride a mule to California instead of fly.

His phone went directly to voicemail. He'd turned it off. I was too late.

I'm almost thirty years old, and my first thought was to call my parents for help. Surely my sweet father could kindly inform air traffic control that his daughter had a "bad feeling" about one of Delta's flights. Surely, they would stop the plane mid-taxiing and explain to the busy travelers that they had it on good authority that this plane was doomed to fall out of the sky despite the clears skys and triple plane check.

I wasn't being unreasonable. This is my husband we're talking about here. Everybody loves Clint. I'm sure if given the chance, I could convince these white-collared decision makers that his was a life worth saving.

I'll spare you the five year plan I wrote to be carried out upon his death. I'll also spare you the program for his funeral; the songs that would be sung, the speakers, etc. Let me just say this: it was a rough two hours. When Clint landed he called me, like he always does to tell me he made it okay.

What is the point of this story?

Your guess is as good as mine. I'm laying here conducting a little psychoanalysis--tyring to understand the crazy inter-workings of my mind. The only thing I've come up with is this: Someone upstairs felt I needed to appreciate my husband a little more. Maybe I needed to get a glimpse of what life would be like without him. Well NO THANK YOU! I'll keep him.

...in a little box so he can never leave the house again.

Boston Tillman Jenkins

2009-09-21T22:44:00.001-06:00

Introducing Boston Tillman Jenkins. He was born August 24th weighing 8lbs 9oz and measuring about 21 inches long. As you can see, he's in "Time Out" right now because of some pretty nasty colic, but we love him to pieces.

Why Boston?

In the Revolutionary War, Boston was the city of first real resistance. This crazy populace defied all odds, sparking what would become one of the greatest military campaigns in history. We named our son Boston because he represented the "first resistance" for me. My first two pregnancies were relatively easy. I didn't even get sick. But Boston, well lets just say it might have been easier to travel to Hade's gates and back than to go through another pregnancy like his again. Because of that, we consider him to be our little miracle child. According to the odds, he should not be here--just like the colonies should not have been able to defeat the world power that was Britain. Boston is our little fighter--the underdog who proved every test and doctor wrong. We thank Heavenly Father for the miracle that is Boston.

Why Tillman?

Well, Patrick Tillman was an NFL player who, after 9-11 gave up a multi-million dollar contract with the AZ Cardinals and enlisted. He was sent to Afghanistan where he died in combat (friendly fire) on his first and only tour. His sacrifice made a deep impression on both Clint and I. In the hospital we decided to honor his memory by naming Boston after this courageous man. Hopefully Boston can possess that same sense of duty and honor--to be willing to give up the nice things of this world for the greater good.

*Writing Update*
The writing is coming. I took about a month off with the baby, but things are finally beginning to pick up again. My word count with "Fields" is about 54,000 words (that's equivalent to about 220 pages). I'm hoping to finish this first draft by the third week in November.

2009-05-21T14:09:00.000-06:00

The newest Eldredge (Rasmussen)

2009-05-18T15:55:00.000-06:00

So here he is, my newest and tiniest nephew, Beau. My sister had him last week (Wed.) and he's all heaven and chocolate to me. Congrats to Whitney and Todd!

I've had a lot of people ask about my latest writing project, "Fields". Things are moving slowly, but moving. I'm really trying to finish this book before this baby comes. Right now the word count is only about 32,000 words. For those of you who don't speak writer, that's about 150 pages. I'm almost to the halfway mark, and if things go as planned, I should finish by the end of July. Wish me luck.

No news is . . .

2009-04-17T21:40:00.000-06:00

I'm posting this simply because I know many of you nice people anticipated my ultrasound yesterday. I have really good news and really not-so-good news.

First of all, we're having a BOY!!! Though Clint didn't want to admit it, he was really hoping for a boy this go round. I know he wants Casey to enjoy the brotherhood that exists in his family.

On a more somber note, the hemorrhage in my placenta has actually gotten worse over the last three weeks. What does that mean? Well, it's complicated. For now, the baby is fine, but my bed rest has become indefinite. Translation: Someone knock me out for about four more months PLEASE!

Now, if you know me well, you know that I'm a world class "down-player". I don't like to dwell on negativity, so my approach to all of this is going to seem hunky-dory all-is-well. Just know that I am dealing with this in my own way, and part of that is forcing myself to be positive.

So... how can you help me? By letting me paint my rosey picture. Besides, I have SO much for which I should be grateful! Right now I'm beating the odds (picture me and baby warming up for a boxing match- jab, jab, PUNCH) I know that we can make it through this fun mess with a spoonful of optimism and about four cups of divine intervention.

Wish us luck!

Back in the Saddle

2009-04-03T10:05:00.000-06:00

So, I'm back in the saddle. "What does that mean?" I hear you asking yourselves. (all two of you). It means I'm querying again. For the those of you who don't know what that means- I'm trying to sell my first novel... again.

It has been about six months since I last sent a query. During my last attempt I sent out the worst queries known to man. Every "common mistake" you could make, I made. I actually think I invented a few. This is what happens when you enter a situation with all drive and no knowledge or experience.

NOT THIS TIME BABY! I am optimistic and far better prepared for the ride.

On another note...

For those of you who haven't heard, I'm on bed rest. I was teaching a sophomore English class and I had, what's called a subchorionic hemorrhage. I'll spare you the gory details, but just know, it's not the most pleasant experience (especially in front of 16 year old boys). They rushed me to the ER and after seven hours of IV's, morphine drips, and ultrasounds, the baby was fine. The catch is, I get to stay down (as in, in bed) until my next ultrasound on April 16th.

Before you offer congratulations on my optimum excuse for writing, know that it's KILLING ME! I will say that sitting around all day, searching for a productive use of my time (besides writing), has dissolved my excuses for not trying to sell my work. It's just sad that it's taken these extreme circumstances to get my act in together.

So bring on the rejections! I'm ready for them. Hopefully this time, I can have better success. Wish me luck!

P.S. Happy Birthday to my HOT sixteen year old sister, Haley and Taylor, my lovable littlest niece who just turned one)

Dragons and Pumpkins

2009-02-04T23:01:00.000-07:00

So I've been doing some outlining for my current project, and discovered some structural problems with my first book. I don't want to fix them. Bottom line. The end. Finito...

But of course, I will. Rewrites are an essential step in any novel length work, but that doesn't mean I have to like them. So yes, I am going to hit Natura another time, this time broadening my scope to include some fundamental problems that come from not starting the book with any idea of where it was going. A few of my story lines are in desperate need of motivation, others lack purpose.

Example:

If you're telling a story about a princess in a dragon guarded tower, the reader wants to know what will happen if the girl isn't rescued by the handsome prince...

Will she starve? Will the dragon eat her after the first year? Will she turn into a pumpkin?

Hopefully you see my point. Some of my story lines need a consequence- motivation for them to succeed, consequences if they don't. In short, I haven't been mean enough to a few of my characters. I can't lie, I hate to put them through these horrible scenes. But a little more blood lends for a lot more glory.

Difficulties

2009-01-18T22:05:00.000-07:00

I broke my ankle jumping off a countertop. Nice.

Attitude!

2009-01-14T18:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I had to post these pictures of Christmas with my husband's family. Libby is in the pink and Casey is the tall one in red. This just goes to show that when you ask a little girl like my "piece-of-work" daughter to smile, she will either stick her tongue out or sneer.

Since we're on the subject of Libby, I should tell you what happened today. First, you need to know that Liberty is widely known as the queen of scowls. At dinner tonight, she insisted on wearing her gloves while she ate. Half way through the meal, she scowled at me and I returned the glare. As quick as a wink, she had her fists in the air ready to fight me.

I was so taking off guard that I busted up laughing (I know I shouldn't encourage her attitude. You would have laughed too. Trust me.)

Let's just say, I think she has been watching too much Kung Fu Panda of late.

I bet Edison had a mother...

2008-12-26T18:27:00.000-07:00

Before I begin this post, I want to make it very clear that I do not put myself on plane with Edison or any other genius that changed our world. No, I'm an ordinary Jane. But, I do know what it's like to work toward something that many feel is impossible.

Edison was a persistent man. He worked for years to develop a carbon filament for the light bulb. After hundreds upon hundreds of failed attempts, in 1879 he succeeded, and we have never been the same since.

The other day, I was stranded at my parents house without a car. (Long story. Not interesting, I promise.) My darling mother asked to see my newest manuscript, and I consented.

I read my words aloud while we lounged on her bed. She gave me her whole self, hanging on every syllable like it was auditory gold. She oooed and ahhhed in all the right places. She laughed right on cue when my characters made a pun, and she felt sympathy for my characters when they were disheartened.

Was she just giving me what I wanted to hear? I honestly don't think so. Does this mean that my manuscript will be the envy of every major publishing house in New York? Probably not. But it does go to show that mothers can work small miracles in the lives of their children. Because she believes in me, it is that much easier to believe in myself (something that is imperative for an aspiring author). I'm glad she likes my new story, and her opinion is a valuable one. More than anything, I'm glad she's my mother.

Frustrating!

2008-12-23T00:20:00.000-07:00

I love Christmas like a candy cane loves hot chocolate. But... all of this season's festivities are seriously affecting my daily writing goals. I am WAY behind, like 3,000 words behind, where I should be for the month.

On the bright side, my parent's gave both of my kids a Nintendo DS for Christmas. Let's just say, they're going to be quite occupied for the next six months. (No joke, they would play them all day if I let them). So what does this mean? It means I might be changing my blog from "writing by candlelight" to "writing during the day, like normal authors who value a good night's sleep."

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas! I'll report on my progress after the holidays.

Wish me luck!

2008-12-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

Behold, I bring you three fidgety angels, one kingly wise man, an adorable shepherd, a little brown donkey showing off his backside, a distracted lamb, a patient Mary and Joseph, and two mothers trying their best to hold it all together.

Getting this picture was no small Christmas miracle! I own the wise man and middle angel.

We had my son's fifth birthday party today. After the party, my family came to celebrate. We are doing Christmas with my husband's family this year, and so decided to do the Nativity story tonight while we had the whole group together.

I am exhausted! I am supposed to knock out 1000 words tonight before I fall asleep. We'll see what happens... ZZZZZZZZ

Side-Tracked

2008-12-12T00:14:00.001-07:00

In an earlier post, I mentioned that I was giving into the technology monster by starting this blog. Well, the plot thickens... I'm on facebook. (cringe) I'm not sure why I find that so cumbersome. It's all about the networking, I guess.

Since this blog was started to document my writing, I have to tell you about a new project that has captured and held hostage my writing sessions. It all started when I was doing a freewrite to warm up for another day of working on Natura 2. (For those of you who don't know, I've written a book entitled Natura. No, it is not published. I'm currently trying to find a literary agent who can help me navigate the murky waters of the publishing industry.) Well, the freewrite got way out of hand. A page turned into five. Five turned into fifteen. The next thing I knew, I had an entire novel outlined and a protagonist that I absolutely adored bringing to life. I'm determined to write her story, and I feel extremely excited to bring it all to life.

For those of you who have read Natura, don't worry, I haven't abandoned my baby. I'm going to continue to work hard to get it off the ground. Natura 2 is still a huge priority for me, and will pick it up as soon as I finish this new project. (I'm thinking April)

King's English

2008-12-05T00:10:00.000-07:00

Tonight my adorable little sister (who happens to be three inches taller and drop dead gorgeous) and I drove to Sugar House to meet some incredibly talented authors. Can I just say that it's so refreshing to meet people in the writing world. I love seeing these gifted writers who have tasted the triumph of publication. It proves A) That good things do happen to good people, and B) That local writers are finding success in this tough industry. As an aspiring author, I thrive off of other people's successes.

Among others, I got to talk to James Dashner, who is officially a good friend of mine now, no matter what Dean Hale says. I've been anxious to pick up The 13th Reality so that I would be prepared when the second comes out in February. When James (What? I can call him "James". We're friends now remember?) discovered that I drove from Spanish Fork to come to the signing, he whipped out one of his advanced copies of the sequel and signed it for me as a gift. What a cool, down to earth guy.

Ann Cannon (you might know her as A. E. Cannon) signed a copy of her newest work, Loser's Guild to Life and Love. I enjoyed seeing her again. She gave me some constructive critique during the "Writing for Charity" event back in July. She is all grace and goodness, not to mention, a stellar author.

Shannon Hale thinks I'm a stocker, which for the record, goes against everything I stand for. I don't know why I couldn't just go up to her table, ask her to sign my books, and move on with my life. I HAD to tell her that I check her blog everyday. I HAD to run my mouth. So to Shannon, who I'm sure will be desperately scanning the web to find my blog, I would like to say that I was just a tinsy bit star struck tonight. It's embarrassing. I am normally a mellow, level-headed person. Honestly, if Brad Pit walked in to the King's English tonight, I wouldn't have batted an eye. But I meet these great authors and my knees become rapidly liquefying jello. Go figure.

Anyway, thank you James for the words of encouragement, thank you Ann for the good humor, and thank you Shannon and Dean for waiting until I left to laugh at the fool I made of myself.

A plug for a friend!

2008-12-01T23:38:00.001-07:00

My sister-in-law, Whitnee Jenkins, is a gifted photographer. She did some fun Christmas shots of my little family. So here is a shameless plug on her behalf. Check out studiomjphotography.com. If you live anywhere in Northern Utah, she should be your first pick if you need professional pictures taken.

Good Food, Good Company

2008-11-29T17:28:00.000-07:00

I hope you all had a "filling" Thanksgiving. Every other year, my sweet husband gets to embark on what I affectionately refer to as the "Eldredge Adventure" (Thanksgiving with my father's family). My good 'ole Dad is the oldest of seven of the most boisterous, loving, giving, brilliant, tolerant, beautiful, talented people that walk the earth. This can be an intimidating experience, even for the strongest of personalities, but Clint (my husband) takes it in stride, and I love him for it.

All of us cram into my Grandparent's spacious home. We have virtually the same food assignments every year, and when you have 30+ people preparing to eat the best meal of the year, you can imagine that we go above and beyond the traditional necessities the Holiday requires. It's Saturday and I'm still stuffed as full as Grandma's turkey (which was in a league of its own, by the way).

I love my family. I walk through the door and smell Grandma's famous cooking. I hear the younger grandchildren wresting and the adults laughing about their deviant pasts. I am encompassed by love. I stand with arms around me, as the world of beautiful faces, who have encouraged me all my life, give smiles that speak eloquent sonnets of welcome and acceptance. Thank you to the many who make up my crazy family, including those who couldn't make it this year. Thank you.

A Place to Vent

2008-11-24T23:18:00.000-07:00

I would like to dedicate this blog to every starving writer who has written a book, or has aspirations to do so. Keep on it! Perhaps some people think we're crazy to believe we can make it in this tough, tough industry. Maybe we are, but this cynical world could use a few more dreamers!

Thank you, Frost for understanding the unexplainable need to take the road less traveled. The road, "In leaves no step had trodden black." This is the road of a writer. This is the road I choose.

I've broken down. I am entering the cyber world with eyes wide shut, conforming, giving in to the man, and all that. I see you rolling your eyes. You might be wondering why I've joined the millions of well adjusted, technologically sound, bloggers. I could tell you that I'm doing it for the correspondence, I might say that I'm interested in publicly documenting my treacherous journey in writing and publication, or that I just want to be published in ANY form. But none of that would be true (OK, I really do want to be published, but that isn't why I'm blogging). The truth is simple; I needed a place to vent, where I could pretend that someone is fascinated by what I have to say. Melodramatic? Maybe. But I'm in a little bit of a writing slump, and you do what you have to to get back on the wagon, right?!

So here goes nothing...

I write because of the story. I write because if I don't, my characters will never find the resolve they deserve. I write because I love words. I write because after every book I read, I find myself mentally changing scenes, especially endings. I write because when I walk into a restaurant and see two people chatting, my imagination takes over and I have no choice but to invent the dialog in my head. "No, Victoria. When you arrive at the safe, radio the gunman before you detonate the bomb." I write because, like Brandon Mull told me at a Writing for Charity event in July 2008, "Some of the coolest experiences in my life... aren't real".

No, I'm not crazy. I'm passionate. The difference is vague, but does exist.