Writers in Heels

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Week in Review: Great Reads

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 10:11:46 +0000

Since it’s been a hectic week now that I’m back teaching school, I didn’t have time to make it to a movie. I did, however and as always, find time to read. So, I thought I’d share with you some books I’ve recently finished. Maybe you’ll find something here you would also like to read.

Before I forget, if you live in the Spanish Fork area, I’d love to have you join me on Wednesday, September 15th at 6:30 p.m. at the library. I’ll be doing book talks for the adult patrons, and it might be a great chance for you to discover a book or series, or just to meet some other avid readers from our community. Hope to see you there!

Apple Turnover Mystery – Joanne Fluke. This
series is one of my very favorite cozy mysteries. The main character, Hannah
Swenson, owns the local bakery and has an uncanny way of always being the one
to discover the body of someone recently murdered. Hannah is a natural sleuth
and uses her bakery specialties, knowledge of the community, and sense of intuition
to solve the case, even though her policeman brother-in-law sometimes wishes
she would leave that part up to him. If you love to bake, you’ll also love
these books which are always jam-packed with actual recipes for cookies, cakes
and other confectionaries that sound way too many calories or sugar grams for
my diet!

Hush, Hush – Becca Fitzpatrick. Since this book
came out I’ve had a lot of locals ask me if I read it yet, and what did I
think. I’d read an absolutely scathing review by a well-known nationally
published YA author, so of course, I HAD to read the book at that point to see
what all the fuss was about. I picked up the novel expecting to be absolutely
scandalized, and found. . . next to nothing. Okay, so there was a little inappropriate
language, maybe some hinted indication of sex, but nothing compared to some of
the other well-known and widely read YA novels that recently passed around our
community as a “must read.” Maybe I’m becoming desensitized and these glimpses
of impropriety don’t faze me anymore. Honestly the book I’ve reading right now
to review for a national magazine has content much worse than this. Perhaps the
entire industry is leading teenagers down a path toward vulgarity in both
language and sex. One listen to the radio and a look at MTV sort of proves
this. In any case, I actually liked Hush, Hush well enough that I’ve put the
forthcoming sequel on hold at the public library.

Readicide – Kelly Gallagher. This book is a must
read for teachers and administrators, language arts of not. The author tells of
a terrible tragedy that has befallen our country, one that I have cried about
for years. We are developing an alliterate nation—a nation of people who can
read, but who DON’T. The reason? Our teachers are committing readicide—killing the
love of reading by dissecting literature into such small parts that the
students never learn to engage, never learn to read simply because they love
reading. Why do we do this? Because of state and national mandates testing.
Everything in school becomes about the test. Are the scores high enough? Can we
reach 100% proficiency by the target date of 2014 as mandated in No Child Left Behind?Anyone who understands that you can’t compare apples to oranges already knows
that the goal

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: All in the Family – Helen Marie Heffner Brobst

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 10:00:05 +0000

Helen Marie Heffner was born at home at 810 Daly Street in Indianapolis, Indiana, as the second child of Lewis Orvil and Violet Mae Warner Heffner. She was welcomed to the family by her older sister Leona Mae Heffner, who had just turned two the month before.

At the recommendation of her mother Violet’s doctor, the family left the city while Helen was young and settled in the crossroads known as Hancock’s Chapel in the hills of southern Indiana. Violet’s health had caused the doctor some concern, and he felt living in the big city and working in the marshmallow factory as she did was not good for her. When Lewis located his siblings Herbert and Ethel, who had been adopted by the Wennings family, the tiny crossroads town where they lived seemed to make the most sense for the rest of his family.

Helen and Leona loved the outdoors, fishing in the pond, running through the hills, and playing in the barn. They attended the two room schoolhouse on the Wennings’ property behind the General Store. The two girls often sang duets at the chapel where their baby sister, Ethel Louise, is laid to rest. The baby was stillborn in 1922.

One of Helen’s favorite songs was “Fair Lilies,” and her best friend in Hancock was Mary Catherine Kennedy, whose married name was Wolfe. Helen continued to have a love for music throughout the rest of her life, and although she never learned to play an instrument or read music, she often sang as she worked around the house. She always had the perfect song to sing for any occasion to prove a lesson to her children.

When Helen was 12, the family relocated first to “B” Street in Elwood, where their grandma Mary Rose Fry Warner lived, then to Alexandria, Indiana, where they resided at 218 West Tyler Street. She remembered having sock hop dances on the new hardwood floors her father laid in this house, to help polish the floors after coats of varnish were added to them. She lived in this house until she was married.

Helen was very successful in business courses in high school, working in the school office as a student aide and being chosen as a member of the National Honor Society. She worked as kitchen help at the Colonaide, the beautiful building which still stands on State Road 9. She would walk the 2 miles to and from work each day for a meager wage, although sometimes the girls would share their tips if she could clear the dishes away quickly for them.

As a girl, she met and developed a crush on her neighbor Robert Brobst who had a crush on Helen’s cousin Roberta. Eventually, the romance worked out, and Robert and Helen were married at the home of Reverend Bigler at the corner of Water and Clinton Streets in Alexandria. Helen wore a lavender silk dress that she had made. She always wondered, however, if the marriage was legal as the minister insisted on calling Robert “Paul” throughout the marriage ordinance. Only Violet, Leona, and Winona Brobst attended the wedding because Lewis Heffner thought his older daughter should get married first.

The weather was cold and terrible on that January day, and after the ceremony the newlywed couple walked the mile from the preacher’s house to Loren and Opal’s house at 406 Walnut to spend the honeymoon night. Helen took a terrible chill which results in one of the worst colds she ever experienced in her life. She kept apologizing to her new husband and the next day they walked back to Roe Avenue and his family home. He made her a hot toddy that night, the first she had ever had alcohol, and she thought she hear trains rushing through the room. But the drink did its job and she slept through the night, awaking the next morning miraculously cured.

Over the next 45 years, Helen raised their four children (Robert Lewis, Beverly Sue, Donald Eugene, and Lu Ann), worked at Robert’s side at Brobst Photos Supplies, and developed her talents, which included cooking, sewing, embroidery, crochet, cross stitch, and writing poetry, but she never learned to drive a car. The one time she gave it a try, she became upset when she didn’t turn the car in the right place at the corner, which resulted in a chewing out from her instructor. Once she parked the car back home she said, “You can have the wheel. I’m done trying.” I think she later regretted that decision, but there was no way late in life she was going to try again.

Helen was the family historian and kept in touch with cousins on both sides of the family. She loved to read. After she lost Robert, whom she called “my best friend,”she traveled with her youngest child, Lu Ann, to Florida and Utah where she finally moved. She died there in 1995 from complications due to Alzheimer’s disease.

Tristi Pinkston: Rockingest Book Signing Ever

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 15:02:08 +0000

September 11th, 2010

12:00 - 4:00 pm

Eborn Books

Provo Towne Center, Upper Level, just outside Dillard's

With these authors ...

Daron D. Fraley

David J. West

Tristi Pinkston

To promote these books ...

There will be some of these ...

And some of these ...

But, I'm sorry to say, you will not win this ...

Or this.

However, you will have a great deal of this ...

And this ...

Now, here is the best part.

As one of my blog readers, you are eligible for a special prize. Come to the signing, tell us you heard all about it on my blog (or Facebook, or Twitter) and you can enter for a prize drawing not available to just the average person. That's right - you are far above average, so why should you settle for an average prize? Each of the three authors are donating something to go in the basket, and while I'm not entirely sure what it will contain at this exact moment, it will be very cool indeed. And yes, you must be present to win.

So come on down! Spread the word! Bring a friend! Eat a cookie! Hang out with us! And then go rub it in the faces of people who weren't able to come.

Annette Lyon: WNW: A Rant: Could NOT Care Less

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 14:00:00 +0000

Hearing (or reading) I could care less is one of my eye-twitching peeves, because it states the exact opposite of what the person means.

I could care less means that the speaker/writer could conceivably care less than they do at this moment.

So . . . they DO care. At least a little. Because they COULD care less.

So it's possible for them to care less than they do right now.

Yeah, not even ALMOST what they mean.

Try again:

What they mean is that they care so little that there is no way for them to care any less than they already do. There is no caring here. At all. None. Zip.

Ergo, they could NOT or couldn't care less.

John Cleese says it better. He's also fun to watch while ranting about it:

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Living in an Osmond World – The Spelling Lesson

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 10:00:08 +0000

Has there ever been a time in your life where you tried to spell something, and no matter what you did, you just couldn’t spell it right? You may even know how to spell the word, but for some reason your brain gets itself into a rut, and no matter what you do the correctly spelled word just won’t fall from your lips.

Or in this case, the tip of your pen.

Several years before I started working for Alan and long before Jay and I worked together on many projects for both our ward and the BYU stake singles, I went to the Osmond family several places on the road. I can’t remember for sure where we were when the great brain freeze hit Jay right between the eyes, but I remember vividly the problem he was having spelling my name.

Granted, Lu Ann might not be the easiest name to spell, especially since there are several ways to do so–Lu Ann; Luann; Lou Anne; Lu Anne; Luanne all come to mind.–but never, never in my life have I ever known anyone to spell it starting with LOO.

Until Jay came along.

The brothers had brought along a brand new group of black & white glossy photos for this gig, and I was one of the first to buy the one of Jay. It was a great photo and I could hardly wait to get him to sign it. I had my chance the next day.

As often was the case in those earlier-Osmond days, I was standing around in the parking lot outside of a hotel with a group of fans, willing to wait all day if necessary to get an autograph, snap a photo, and have a minutes’ worth of conversation. Like most of the others who waited, I had a tote to stash the photos I wanted to have signed.

The bag contained an 8 x 10 of each member of the family—including the brand new photo of Jay. I think a few of them were photos I had actually taken, but I didn’t have any with me of Jay that was as good as this new one, so that’s the one I pulled from the bag when just after noon, Jay came walking out to play a game of football with some members of the band.

Pen in hand, I approached him and asked for his autograph.

“Sure,” he said, looking up at me for my then-unknown name. He had already taken the photo and the pen as a group of people gathered around, cameras and photos of their own in hand.

“Lu Ann,” I said. “L–U. . .”

Then I noticed, Jay had already started writing. L–O–O.

“Um,” I started. “Jay, my name is spelled L–U–A–N–N.”

“Right,” Jay said. “L–U.” He looked at the photo, studying what he had already written. “Oh,” he said, scratching through the letters and starting over again.

I watched as he again started to write. L–O–O. The same three letters had once again been written onto the photo. He looked at me, like he was proud of his accomplishment at first, then he saw the perplexed look on my face. He immediately looked back down and the word he had written—LOO.

A sheepish looks came across his face and he again scribbled out what he had written, then perhaps realizing what a mess he had made, he grabbed for my tote bag where the photo had been stored. “Do you have any other photos of me in there?”

“Not today,” I said.

“Oh,” Jay said. “Sorry.”

By this time I was laughing, and all the people around us were just snapping away, taking photo after photo of me with Jay, recording for posterity all the trouble he was having simply spelling my name.

I pushed the original photo back his way. “Why don’t you give it one more try?” I asked.

“Okay.” He took the photo and very carefully, and VERY slowly wrote L–U–A–N–N.

He’d done it. At last Jay had spelled my name correctly. He’d overcome the spelling demon who had earlier frozen his brain.

“Thanks!” I said, taking the photo and returning it to my bag.

In the next few weeks, my friends who witnessed the great brain freeze sent me a series of photos of Jay trying really hard to correctly spell my name. Looking at the completed photo collection was almost like watching an old time movie as every single bewildered look, raised finger asking me to just hold on, and scratched out spelling was recorded in time.

But the story doesn’t end there. From that time on, and for many years of friendship, it became a big joke between us about the day Jay absolutely could not manage to spell my name. As a matter of fact, when I saw him a couple weeks ago and asked him to sign his book for me, I was sure to ask, “Do you remember how to spell my name?”

Laughing Jay said, “Of course I do!” and spelled it aloud just to prove it to me. And guess what, he got it right in the book, too.

Annette Lyon: Cut to the Chase

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 19:44:00 +0000

Our house has a pretty miserable excuse for a tooth fairy.

Like one of the last times #4, thrilled over her latest lost tooth, put it under her pillow. I fully meant to engage the tooth fairy on her job before I went to bed. I really did. But I was tired. And I forgot.

In the morning, #4 came to me with a sad little furrow on her brow. "The tooth fairy didn't come."

#3, who is older and wiser and knows a bit about the ways of the world, helped distract #4 while I ran around the house for change and sneaked it into her room.

Turns out the tooth fairy just pushed the money into an awkward corner deep under her pillow so she didn't see it.

Phew.

Or something.

Yesterday, #3 lost one of her last teeth. An hour or so later, I walked into my office to find a 5X7 piece of red cardstock on my desk and a note from her on it:

Can I have a buck?

Plus a smiley face . . . and her tooth.

Smart gal. Might as well cut to the chase, get your cash, and not risk Mom forgetting to whip the tooth fairy into action.

Or something.

Josi Kilpack: I NEED REVIEWS! a blog contest

noreply@blogger.com (Josi) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 16:47:18 +0000

It's that time again, the time of year when Josi begs and pleads for happy words about her books to infiltrate the literary worlds and woo fair readers into hypnotic credit-card-swiping moods of grand effusement and joy.

What? Effusement isn't a word says my spell check. Then a pox; a pox on such dictionaries that don't recognize such feedudulement of vocabularic variousness! (incidentally, vocabularic does seem to be a word.)

Alas, I do not simply beg for help without the understanding of reciprocation and therefore the current contest is thus:

Contest runs from 8/31/10-9/7/10
Points are only awarded for nice things said during the dates noted above
For each point you earn, you get entered in to what will be a random drawing done on www.random.org. Hence, if you have 509 points, your name is entered 509 times and you can egg my house if you don't win.

*Points are earned in the following ways:

Mention me or any of my books in a positive way in your facebook status
Mention me or any of my books in a positive way in your twitter update
Retweet someone else's positive mention in their twitter update
Blog about me or any of my books in a positive way (you can copy and paste this blog contest post if you would like)
Leave an online review on any of the following sites for any of my books (you can use the same review on multiple sites)

www.amazon.com
www.deseretbook.com
www.barnesandnoble.com
www.seagullbookandtape.com
www.goodreads.com
www.shelfari.com

Once you have earned your points, come back here and leave a comment on this blog with how many points you earned and a brief description of how you earned them. (remember where liars go if you are tempted to exaggerate). You will be subsequently entered into the contest once for each point earned.

Prizes are as follows:

Grand Prize: An autographed copy of Annette Lyon's Chocolate Cookbook (will be sent when the book is released in October 2010)
Second Prize: An autographed copy of any one of my books AND a bag of Sunkist Fruit Chews because they are so yummy and don't melt like Pretzel M & M's which I don't dare send in the mail.
Third Prize: An autographed copy of any one of my books.
Fourth Place: THIS because I think the world is a better place when everyone who wants a collection of wheat ear pennies has that opportunity.

Keep in mind I can send prizes to someone else in case there is someone you really need to kiss up to right now :-) Christmas is coming, whose naughty list are you on?

PS--you get double points for any reviews left for Key Lime Pie :-)

Heather B. Moore: If "Alma the Younger" had a song

heather@hbmoore.com (Heather B. Moore) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 11:08:07 +0000

I think this song by Aaron Shust perfectly portrays the character of Alma the Younger. What do you think?

You can listen on You Tube HERE, or read the lyrics below:

Lyrics from When Everything is Beautiful by Aaron Shust.

verse 1:

take my ashes take my dirt, and clay
take my pride and strip it off, away
take my mourning take my doubt, and fear
say the words i long to hear

chorus:

though your sins were as scarlet
they will be as white as snow
though they were red,
red as crimson
they will be like wool
when everything is beautiful

verse 2:

everything i tried to hide,
all the games I've been playing
every secret every lie,
all the shame I've been claiming
come and whisper in my ear,
say the words i long to hear

chorus:

though your sins were as scarlet
they will be as white as snow
though they were red,
red as crimson
they will be like wool
when everything is beautiful

bridge:

I'm alive with a hope of a bran' new day,
woa oh woa
I'm alive with a hope of a bran' new day

chorus:

ohh... though your sins were as scarlet
they've become as white as snow
though they were red,
red as crimson
they've become like wool

though your sins were as scarlet
they've become as white as snow
though they were red,
red as crimson
they've become like wool

and everything is beautiful...
everything is beautiful

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Writing Wisdom – Dave Wolverton, aka David Farland

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 10:00:04 +0000

There is nothing like being taught by a master, and that’s how I would classify New York Times Best-selling author and writing teacher Dave Wolverton. Winner of the 2009 Whitney Best Novel of the Year and Outstanding Achievement Award, Dave is one of the most genteel and humble men I’ve ever known. He is always there to nurture a struggling beginner and to applaud the success of everyone who has made the journey into publication.

In addition to his own success, Dave, who has published 50 books in the past 26 years, has been entered into the Guinness World Book of Records for having the most people ever attend a book signing while promoting his Runelords series in Germany, has been a teacher to a list of other best-selling authors, including Dan Wells (I Am Not a Serial Killer), Brandon Mull (Fablehaven), Brandon Sanderson (Elantris and The Wheel of Time: Towers of Midnight), and Stephenie Meyers (Twilight saga).

Recently I had the opportunity to attend one of Dave’s presentations at the LDS Storymaker’s conference, and I wished his session could have gone on for days. I’ve been writing and studying writing for a long time, but I learned so much in his session, short though it was.

His opening words of wisdom for that session were, “Nobody makes it alone. We all build upon each other.” He them went on to talk about how important it is to network. He encouraged the authors to prepare for a brilliant writing career and ask themselves, “What is your first good step?” He said there is no one set path for making a career as a writer, but like fellow science fiction author Kevin Anderson says, “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”

Dave encouraged the writers to do their homework on the person or pesons they most want to network with, then build your confidence for when you meet them. “You just need that one person to get your career started. “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail,” he adds, warning that you should also be aware of your potential competition.

He says to be entertaining, research the world, and develop genuine interest in people and knowledge that you can spread around. When you meet the agent or editor of your dreams, you want to have things to talk about, something with which you can engage them in conversation where they will remember you in a good way. “Prepare emotionally. Prepare spiritually,” he says. If we teach through our writing, we must be careful what we are teaching.”

Authors use writing as their way of screaming, and therefore you should write what is most important to you. Authors can change the world. They create entire communities. Dave says,” We are having a huge effect on people and we don’t even know it. A lot of people need what we have. Each of us has something to share in the world..”

He suggested we use the things he has said as our blueprint—“How to be more like me.” And that makes perfect sense when you understand that one of Dave’s goals is to help all of us become the next best-selling writers who are ready to speak to the world.

If you’re interested in learning more writing insight from Dave Wolverton, sign up for his free e-newsletter, Daily Kick in the Pants, at his website: http://davidfarland.net/. You can also find out about upcoming workshops there as well.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Been There, Done That – John Schneider

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 10:00:04 +0000

In the 1980s and early 1990s, I found myself free to travel just about anywhere I wanted. Living in Utah, a jaunt down to Vegas, a trip to Los Angeles, a drive north to Idaho, or a short-hop flight to Colorado was as easy as could be, and I never seemed to have difficulty finding a friend or four to go with me. Even a second trip to the Big Apple—New York—was not impossible to pull off, but long before that my journey begins.

For several years I had been living in Provo, Utah, the place where this all begins. The Children’s Miracle Network annual telethon had made its home since the very beginning at the Osmond Studio complex in nearby Orem. I had almost annually made a trek to see as much of the telethon as I could get a ticket and a seat to attend.

Many, many celebrities came out for these shows and I often had the chance either at the studio or at the Salt Lake City airport to meet them. A few of those I remember include Richard Carpenter, Nia Peeples, Billy Zabka, Frank Stallone, and Andy Gibb. But probably the celebrity I ran into the most often was telethon co-host John Schneider.

John Schneider is one of those kinds of people who truly want to get to know their fans. Every time I saw him in Utah, which are too numerous to count, or even when the telethon moved to Disneyland, John would take the time to stop and talk. He’d pose for pictures and sign autographs, then he would start asking questions toward the group of us as fast as we could thrown questions back at him. He would really listen as we answered those questions, too. I felt like John wanted to get to know me.

That brings me back to New York and the rest of my story. One of my good friends, Mary La Fontaine, had a hankering to fly to New York to see John perform in the Broadway musical Grand Hotel. John would be playing the role of the Baron in the production currently running at the Martin Beck Theater, and she called to ask if I wanted to go.

Of course I wanted to go! I have always loved John as a performer, a singer, and especially as a person. Plans were made, tickets were bought, and a few weeks later, I was flying in late on Friday night after having taught school to meet Mary in New York late that night.

It certainly was late when I got there. My plan arrived at JFK right around midnight, and there I was, a single woman alone on New York, hoping I’d make it to the hotel alive. I’d learned to pack light for weekend trips like this, so I hauled my wheelie-bag from the plane and headed outside to the taxi stand. Now, I’d taken a taxi before when I was in New York, but I’d never done it alone—at night—with all those scary-looking taxi drivers standing around waiting for a final late-night fare.

I stood and stared at a group of them, all hanging out, smoking their cigarettes and staring at me, until I finally got up my nerve, raised my right hand, and said, “Taxi?”

None of them looked especially thrilled, but at last one mam took a final drag, stopped out his cigarette, and motioned me toward his car. I took a deep gulp of air as I slid into the seat. It’s probably a good thing because that cab absolutely reeked of stale tobacco, alcohol, and who knows what other smells.

I gave him the name and street number for the hotel where Mary had us booked and we were on our way. I had no idea where we were going. I only know the car careened one way, then another, sometimes coming to an abrupt halt behind a jam of cars, them tearing away into another side street as we headed somewhere that I assume was across town, although there were times I thought we hadn’t gone more than a street away from where our journey began. The only time I knew for sure we were someplace new was when we crossed the river and I could see bridges on either side of me a little farther up or down the waterway.

At last we arrived at my destination. Somehow I was lucky enough to have the correct amount of cash to pay my fare—some astronomical amount like 50 bucks as I recall, a number that matched the meter so I know he wasn’t being an obvious cheat—and I was a the door to the place, still not knowing exactly where I was headed.

I checked in at the desk then used the house courtesy phone to give Mary a call and let her know I was in the lobby. She came down to meet me, leading me upstairs and chattering all the way about how she had already seen the play this night and talked to John afterwards, telling him I was coming and assuring me that he wanted to see me.

Right! I thought. No matter how many times John had seen me, I knew he had no idea who I was, even if he did say he couldn’t wait to see me.

Somehow we managed to crowd into our postage-stamp of a room and settle in for an almost-night’s sleep. Despite the fact the window was the size of an 8x10 envelope standing on end, the outside noise of car horns, squealing tires, and overhead planes was more than I was used to and they all converged to keep me awake most of the night. Of course, the fact that the twin bed meant for me was more the width of a plank that a mattress didn’t help either. I think even if Mary and I had been able to slide the two beds together the whole thing combined wouldn’t have been wide enough for even a single person to sleep comfortably.

Tired, but not letting it stop me from having a great day, Mary did some Saturday morning sight-seeing before heading to the theater for the matinee. Until my luck with Christopher Reeve, we didn’t see John before the show, but that was okay. We had great seats right down front and both really enjoyed the play, Mary even more than she had the evening before.

After the performance, she said, “Come with me!” and we headed toward the curtain at the front right of the stage. There was an usher there, blocking the way for anyone to get backstage, but that didn’t seem to bother Mary. “Can you tell John that Mary and Lu Ann are here, please?”

The usher gave her a look that seemed to say ‘You’ve-got-to-be-kidding,’ but after a second he shrugged his shoulder and headed backstage. ‘He said he’s really excited to see you,’ Mary said, turning to me.
I smiled, but I didn’t believe we’d even get backstage, let alone have John excited to see me. I guess I was wrong. A few minutes later, the usher returned and Mary and I were suddenly standing on the other side of the curtain where we were walked farther into the dark recesses found backstage. “John will be here in a few minutes,” the usher said, then he was gone.

I can’t remember how long we stood there, but I do remember seeing Mary’s eyes start to sparkle right before I heard the deep voice say, “Hi Mary, and Lu Ann, it’s great to see you!” And there was John, his arms held out toward me, ready to give me one of those great big bear hugs his is notorious for. He started chatting away like we were finishing a conversation that had been started the day before. He asked me how school was going—did I have good students this year?—and how my flight was from Utah, and when did I have to go back, etc. We talked for probably twenty minutes before he said, “Let’s get some pictures” and called over one of the stagehands who was resetting the stage for the evening performance.

Finally John said, “I’ve got to go. They have dinner waiting back in the dressing room for me, but it was sure great to see you—both of you!” He gave us each another hug and led us to the door that took us back outside. Before we left he gave us the name and address of one of his favorite restaurants in an area of the city known as Hell’s Kitchen and we were on our way—but that’s another story for another day.

Janette Rallison: My Unfair Godmother ARC giveaway

noreply@blogger.com (Janette Rallison) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 00:27:35 +0000

Now that you've all finished Mockingjay (Do not tell me the ending!!! I'm still not done with it because my teenage daughter got to it first.) I know you're all looking for some other awesome book.

And what could be awesomer (I know that's not a word, but it should be) than catching up with our favorite incompetent fairy godmother, Chrysanthemum Everstar? So here's your chance to win an ARC before they even go to the reviewers.

Just leave a comment telling me what you would do if a fairy godmother gave you a wish (and no cheating by asking for more wishes, or to have magic, or anything else that would give you more wishes.)Be sure to mention if you're a blog follower since followers get double chances.

And remember--you're agreeing to overlook that whole business about hay and straw not being the same thing and all the other little problems that I hope I caught in the last draft.

May the Random Number Generator be with you!

Tristi Pinkston: Grieving

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 22:33:59 +0000

Grieving doesn't happen all at once, like a fit of crying that lasts for days and then doesn't return. It comes and goes, sometimes stronger, sometimes as just a dull ache. Sometimes it overwhelms you, and sometimes it just burns a little. Sometimes you know it's coming, like when you're driving down the road and you know you're going to pass that street where you used to turn, but there's no reason to turn there now. Other times, you have no idea when it's coming, like when your five-year-old pulls a picture book off the shelf and starts to read aloud, "My grandpa is the greatest," and you want to sit down with him and make sure he remembers his grandpa, and that he really understands the words he's reading, because you want them burned on his brain.

Sometimes grief is a little bit sweet, because you know you have something worth mourning, and you feel blessed that you had something precious to lose. Sometimes it makes you feel angry, because you question why you had to lose it. Sometimes it makes you grateful that you recognize the value of the thing you had, and that you cherished it before it was too late. Other times, it makes you feel ungrateful, as if you didn't do enough to show your appreciation for it, and you wonder if you could have done more, been more, said it more often, showed it in more ways - you wonder if they knew.

Grief can come in the day or the night. It doesn't hide when it's sunny, just to come out in the rain. It can follow you to the grocery store, sit with you in the theater, watch while you wash the dishes. It doesn't have a schedule. It's not watching a clock, waiting for your time to be up before slipping off to bother someone else. It's patient. It can sit there for hours without getting bored.

What grief does most is remind you. Remind you that you were loved, or that you wanted to be loved, and make you want to be loved again. It binds you, it ties you, it creates a chain from this side to the next that can't be broken. The chain pulls a little, tugs you, brings you back when you walk too far away. Little by little, it reels you in until you can feel the thinness of the veil between this life and the next, like you can reach out and touch it, like the person you lost is standing just on the other side and if you could open your eyes a little wider, you could see them, holding on to the other end of that chain.

Grief is a constant reminder that we have an appointment with someone on the other side, and that we don't want to do anything to spoil that grand reunion that awaits us when it's our turn to pass. Grief keeps us from forgetting that we have a job to do.

I miss you, Dad.

In memory of Joel W. Norton, 1939-2010.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Wisdom Keys: Never Spend More Time on a Critic Than You Would Give to a Friend

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 10:00:03 +0000

Everybody’s a critic, and the word alone means those people rarely have anything nice to say. I had a good friend express her concerns this week about a negative review that was left for her by a reader. Like a sore tooth, the hurtful words took joy away from my friend—at least on an emotional level—all the praise and kudos she’s received from hundreds of others not only for this book, but for her other bodies of work as well. In her mind, she fully understood that it was just one person—a lone voice ranting in the wilderness—but that didn’t change the hurt that came along with it.

I’ve heard it said that it takes us seven experiences with praise to counter-balance a single negative comment delivered to us, even by someone who claims to only be giving constructive criticism. Is there really such a thing? If the offering was unrequested, then perhaps those words are better left unsaid.

Like the saying goes, you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar. If you truly want to bring about change, then perhaps you should look at the words that are said, or choose to leave them unsaid if that’s the better way.

But what if you’re the one hearing those vinegar-laced words? My mother always told me to 'consider the source'. Would that critic set out to deliberately hurt you? Or are they just so blind they cannot see? If their actions seem deliberate, why would they do such a thing? Sometimes it might be out of jealousy, others could be because they simply don’t understand. Maybe they think they are doing you the good they believe you need. A critic is anyone who expresses a value judgment, and if their value differs from yours this may lead them to an erroneous conclusion—one they seem compelled to share, for whatever the reason.

In any case, we should never place more value—or spend more time—on the words of a critic than we would ascribe to those of a friend. The value of friendships is immeasurable in our lives. The listening ear, and open mind, a pat on the back, a word of support when the thorns of life seem to come our way.

True friendships carries with it the desire to give what is best to each other, feel both love and empathy for those we befriend; and maintain honesty, perhaps in situations where it may be difficult for others to speak the truth, not to criticize or correct, but to maintain an openness beget of nothing but true love. Friendship means a basis of mutual understanding and compassion for one another, and foundation or trust, and a place to go for emotional support.

As Walter Winchell once said, “A friend is one who walks in when others walk out.”

With such as these, we should spend our emotions, ignoring those who would seek to do us harm, both physically and emotionally, with their criticizing tongue. Elder David E. Sorensen once said, “It can be very difficult to forgive someone the harm they’ve done us, but when we do, we open ourselves up to a better future. No longer does someone else’s wrongdoing control our course. When we forgive others, it frees us to choose how we will live our own lives.”

So, forgive our critics, those who trespass against us, and set ourselves free. The time we spend on them is time taken away from us to go about doing good in the world, sharing our talents, and building ourselves into a better you and me.

And that’s what will make this world a better, kinder, and more loving place to be.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Home Cooking: Hey, Good Lookin’

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 10:00:01 +0000

Whatcha got cooking? How about cooking somethin’ up with me?

My mother used to sing this song while she was working in the kitchen, a place she really seemed to love to be. That must have been a trait she learned from her own mother, and one that got passed on to my sister, Sue. Didn’t happen though with me, and honestly not with my aunt Leona either it seems. Some girls naturally inherit the “I-love-to-cook gene.” Others do not, and that’s where you’ll find me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I can cook; I just don’t particularly like to. But just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I can’t cook up a dish or two that rank as some members of my family’s favorite meals. And it’s not all just cake and desserts, either, although they do seem to like that too.

When I started this series some time ago, I had people asking me for some of my favorite recipes, so today I’m going to share one with you. Others will come as the weeks follow. These are tried and true and my boys gobble them up like they haven’t eaten in weeks. Oh, for the days I used to have leftovers for sandwiches or a lunch to take to work!

The main course dish that I’m going to share actually has a story to go with its history.

In one of my early years teaching at Payson Jr. High School, we were having some sort of pot luck meal in which members of the faculty were supposed to bring a favorite dish. I knew I couldn’t make desserts to equal those my sister could make, rolls were out of the question, and the salad I might have made took overnight to prepare and I didn’t have that time luxury, so I decided to make up some breaded tenderloin to share.

This is something I knew how to cook without even thinking. Breaded tenderloin was probably the first thing my mother really taught me to cook, and I know it was the first dish I was asked to prepare all on my own for a family meal. I followed my mother’s exact recipe.

Buy pork tenderloin, sliced as thin as you can get them. Cut off any fat, place the tenderloin between two sheets of waxed paper and pound on the meat until it is paper-thin.

Dip the meat pieces into a well-beaten egg until it’s covered, then press each side onto a waxed paper where you’ve crushed crackers into nearly powder. (I use Ritz crackers; my mother used saltines.)

Heat an electric skillet to 350∘. Slowly place the cracker and egg-covered pieces into the skillet and let them begin to cook. When the side nearest the heat has started to turn golden brown, gently turn the meat over, cooking until the other side is the same color. Do NOT salt the meat at this time.

Repeat the process, allowing the meat to cook through and the coating to continue to brown on both sides. The third time you turn them, you may lightly salt each side.

At the end of t his final turn, the meat should be completely cooked, but cut open a tiny part in the center of the thickest piece of meat. If all looks good, then you are done and the breaded tenderloin is ready to serve.

Now, back to my story. I had made the tenderloin and brought them to this party at school. My humble offering was sitting on the table amid all sorts of fabulous looking dishes and I wondered if anyone but me would even want to eat any of this lowly meat. It didn’t take long in the line to find out.

Layne Blatter, our German teacher, was not far ahead of me, when I heard him exclaim, “Wienerschnitzel!”

Now the only time I had ever heard that word was when someone was referring to that hot dog place in Orem that served the best coney dogs I’d had since I stopped going to the Madison County fair. I wondered if someone had brought coney dogs to the party.

“Who brought the wienerschnitzel?” Layne asked, looking around for who might be the person responsible for this dish. All of us shrugged our shoulders, and no one claimed the be the cook. “I love wienerschnitzel,” he added.

We continued to go through the line, and I filled my plate, taking a piece of my own dish of meat. Then I took a seat at a table, only finding out a few minutes later when they came back from getting drinks that Layne and his wife would be sitting with me.

As Layne sat, he looked at my plate and saw my meat. “Did you make the wienerschnitzel?” he asked, pointed at my breaded tenderloin.

“That’s breaded tenderloin,” I said, a little confused.

“Not in Germany it isn’t,” he said before he took his first bite. He savored it like he had never tasted anything so good. “And you made it just right—just like I remember from Germany.”

A few minutes of conversation and I discovered that this dish that my mother used to make—one she had learned from her mother—came to us from our German ancestry, and that in that country what we knew as breaded tenderloin was known as wienerschnitzel.

“All those hot dog stands are wrong,” Layne told me.”Now, can you give me the recipe?”

I shared the same information I have given to you, and Layne went home a happy man. As a matter of fact, several times throughout the rest of the school year he stopped to tell me, “My wife made me wienerschnitzel last night, and I have you to thank!”

And I hope any of you who decide to try this recipe will feel the same. I know my boys do.

Annette Lyon: Top 5 Essentials to a Writer's Life

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 17:16:00 +0000

Totally stealing this idea from the current (Sept '10) Writer's Digest. It's their "Big 10" issue, where every article and department has a theme of 10.

One section has ten best-selling writers, each given a question with their top 10 answers. I'm going to answer some of those myself, only keep the answers to five instead of ten. (I'm no Jodi Piccoult.)

Top 5 Essentials to a Writer's Life

1) The Right Tools

This definitely includes a computer, because you simply cannot function in the modern publishing industry without one. That is, unless you're Ray Bradbury (who still insists on using a typewriter). But he's Ray Bradbury.

Some writers prefer drafting in longhand, so their tools include a notebook and pen or pencil. I can't do that, in large part because my handwriting is atrocious. One of my best tools ever is my Alphasmart Neo. I've done more drafting on that puppy than almost anywhere else, and it's made drafting possible in places a laptop or other device wouldn't be convenient.

I'd include books under this category. A writer must read. A writer must research. Books are the lifeblood of a good writer.

2) Brainless Time

This is time when my brain can wander around and be creative, thinking ahead to maybe what scene will come next, how to solve this plot problem, what this character is really like. If I use my brainless time wisely, I'll be ready to crank out 1,000 words next time I'm at the keyboard.

Brainless time is critical for anyone who isn't a full-time writer. (In other words, those of us not lucky enough to have big blocks of time to write. Or, most of us.)

3) A Solid Internet Connection

This can be both a blessing and a curse: if I'm not careful, I can "just" check e-mail or "just" read one blog, and next thing I know, two hours are shot, with nothing written. That said, e-mail is how I communicate with my editor, how I submit articles, how I communicate with my readers, how I, oh, blog. It's how I stay up-to-date on the industry and trends. It's a must.

4) Rewards

These can be small, for daily goals (I get a piece of chocolate if I finish this scene/chapter/reach my word count) or big (I get a massage when I finish drafting this book). Or somewhere in between. Really, it's scary how well bribery works on your inner writer. It's such a baby.

5) Writer Friends

If I didn't have friends who are as weird and loopy as I am, friends who get me and the way I think, who have been there and understand both the highs and lows of writing and publishing, I'd completely lose my mind. The act of writing is solitary; I desperately need links to writer friends to breathe life back in to me.

What are your essentials?

Writing on the Wall: Types of Editing

heather@hbmoore.com (Heather B. Moore) — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 13:26:05 +0000

By Heather Moore

I recently turned in a manuscript to my publisher. Although I’m thrilled to have completed another manuscript, I’m thinking of the editing process with some trepidation.

Once you have a publishing contract, you might think the publisher has forgotten about you for awhile. “When will I get to work with my editor?” you might ask. Be careful what you wish for. Although I have been lucky enough so far to have editors who’ve allowed fair give-and-take throughout the editing process, the editing process continues to be daunting.

When I finish my manuscript, I send out the book to several alpha readers on my own. When I get their comments back, I go through my manuscript and revise. So by the time I turn in the manuscript to my publisher, I feel I’m well into the editing process. Yet, from the publisher’s perspective, it has only begun.

Steps of editing that you might face (or look forward to):

Phase 1: General evaluations from the readers who were hired by your publisher to see if your manuscript is marketable and fits the line-up of the publisher.
Your Job: Revise according to suggestions and resubmit

Phase 2: Your assigned editor will read through book and make general comments. Sometimes this might come back very detailed or more overall plot/character/etc. issues.
Your Job: Revise, discuss, revise again, with editor

Phase 3: After both you and the editor are pleased with the book, the manuscript moves onto the copy editing stage (or line editing). My publisher uses two different copy editors for this stage
Your Job: Review copy edit, approve changes, or revise accordingly. This stage is really the last chance to change anything in your manuscript.

Phase 4: Proofreading. Once the copyedits are finalized, the manuscript is transposed into book layout form. Also called the galley stage or the typeset version. My publisher uses two proofreaders to check formatting and look for typos or other errors.
Your Job: Some writers leave it up to the proofreader, but I like to print out a hard copy and, yes, painstakingly read through it again. During this stage it’s very hard to change more than a word or two since a sentence addition or deletion often changes the layout of the page and/or chapter.

The good news is that with all of these stages of editing, your book will get much stronger, much tighter, and become something to be proud of.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Summer Movies The Final Countdown

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 10:00:00 +0000

The Expendables – You know, I’ll never understand today’s movie rating system. Some people would think I must be a terrible person and an even more terrible Mom because I took one of my boys with me to see this Sylvestor Stallone movie which is rated R. Yes, the movie was violent, but it wasn’t gruesome. Yes, Bruce Willis said the F-word, but he said it so many times in a single minute of screen time that it became comical rather than offensive. What should have been gore was more video-game-like in intensity. So, in comparison to Vampires Suck or Dinner with Schmucks, which I reviewed last time, The Expendables really wasn’t a bad movie at all. At least it didn’t have gratuitous sexual content, vulgar references or language interspersed throughout, and honestly, the story was great! Guy movie or not, I though this was a well-done, interesting, and exciting movie. I liked the way Stallone brought the entire story to a full resolution in a way that was satisfying to the viewer. The subtle humor helped me connect to the characters, and feel like I wanted to see yet another film with these same guys back again. Overall, The Expendables reminded me of The A-Team, another action movie from earlier in the summer which I also loved.

Nanny McPhee Returns – Although sometimes the situational humor tries a little too hard, I’ll admit I laughed pretty hard at most of this movie. I took my ten-year-old with me, despite his protests, but he liked it well enough that when we went back to the theater for another movie, he pooped over into Nanny McPhee to watch a few minutes of it before the new movie started. Emma Thompson is brilliant—as always! Oh, there were the typical kid jokes about poop, but the story has a great message. The lessons the children learn are not overplayed, and the ending is not as sad as one might think it would be. Overall, a very nice film, well worth the price of admission.

Vampires Suck – I admire Stephenie Meyer, and as a writer, of course I am jealous of her financial success, but sometimes that wicked little devil in my loves watching the entire Twlight saga being made fun of, and this film does exactly that. For the most part, the movie was hysterically funny. The girl who played the Bella-like character had Kristen Stewart’s every move down pat. Despite his bad wig, Edward was much better looking than Robert Patterson, and my boys thought the kid who played Jacob was also better looking than Taylor Lautner. I used to think he was totally cute, until I saw him as Sharkboy, but that’s another movie! The problem with Vampires Suck is that despite a great and very funny premise, the director in charge let the film sink into teen stupidity, using explicit sex scenes and graphic, bloody violence to tell the story, instead of sticking with the highbrow, and much more satisfying humor, of the premise. When it comes to this one, watch the trailers and know you’ve seen enough. The rest wasn’t really worth seeing anyway.

That's it for my movie-filled summer, but you can bet I'll be back with more movie reviews in the weeks to come.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: All in the Family: Robert Ellsworth Brobst

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 10:00:05 +0000

My father, Robert, who was also called Bob by many friends and relatives, was born in Elwood, Indiana, on May 30, 1914, as the second son to Pearl and Winona Myra Alice Lake Brobst. His older brother, Loren Allen Brobst, had just turned six in January before Robert was born, and his younger brother Ervin Eugene wouldn’t come along yet for another six years.

During his childhood, Robert was a member of a Boy Scout troop, enjoyed riding the pony, and helped with a family egg business, dressing hens. He took piano lessons, played the chimes, and later in his life, enjoyed the chord organ. At one time he also played around with the ukelin, but no one in the family ever really learned to play this unusual instrument. Robert used to swim, until he became disoriented while turning somersaults in the pool and became frightened of the water afterward.

Robert’s best friend was Curty Babcock and the two of them used to drive to school in Robert’s Model-A Ford. Helen Marie Heffner, who later became his wife, says, “He and Curty used to go flying by my sister, Leona and me, as we walked to school, both rain and shine. His mother wouldn’t let Robert drive with anyone else in the car, except Curty.”

Like many of the boys of his time, before the danger of smoking was known, Robert wanted to smoke a cigarette. He was sitting on an old mattress not far from the kitchen. When Winona saw the smoke, she thought Robert and the mattress had caught on fire. She rushed from the house with the first thing she grabbed—a pot of beans, which she poured on his to put out the fire. Unfortunately for Robert, the beans were hot and left a scar about the size of two spread hands on his shoulder and back, a scar that remained there the rest of his life.

Robert knew Helen Heffner not only because she lived a block away, but also because he had a crush on her cousin, Roberta Shaw, whom he once thought he would marry. Their staring contest was legendary in Helen and Leona’s family story treasury. Helen thought for many years that Robert had only married her because he couldn’t have either Roberta or Leona, but Robert always tried to assure his this simply wasn’t so. It was always the young girl with the dark brown hair and big blue eyes who caught his attention, and that’s why he married her.

Robert worked at Johns-Mansville when he graduated from high school, then during WWII worked at Greer Steel, but he loved business. He and his brother Eugene first opened Brobst Photo Plant in a building they constructed next to the Brobst home on Roe Avenue. Robert and Helen lived in an apartment above the plant until 1953 when they moved to 305 Pennsylvania Avenue. Robert had already opened Brobst Photo Supplies on Canal Street, hoping to make a go of the business on his own in a more convenient location.

He loved music and had a beautiful tenor voice, and often said that when he grew up, he wanted “to be Al Jolson,” the singer he enjoyed seeing at the talking movies. Robert also loved whistling and once recorded himself on a vinyl platter he labeled “Whistlitis.” By the end of the record, he said he thought he was going to die until he had some water to “whet-his-whistle!” He loved movies and TV programs, especially westerns, enjoying the films of John Wayne and anything on TV that was about the Wild West. Each week he would watch Gunsmoke, Have Gun Will Travel, and Bonanza, as part of his regular TV-faire.

Robert was a tease and played jokes, like when he answered the phone “Joe’s Pizza Parlor,” fooling Chuckie Lee Pittman into thinking he had a wrong number. He had crazy nicknames for people, including calling me “loose ends,” because he said I had some!

Robert could write both upside down and backwards. He couldn’t go to work in the morning until he had a cup of coffee and finished both the crossword puzzle and the crypto-quote in the newspaper.

Late in his career, Robert designed and built an enlarging camera then ran a printing press, printing Memorial Cards for local funeral homes. He also had wood and metal lathes in the shop to use on various projects. Prior to his death in May 1980, he built a new shop behind his home and ran the family business from his own back yard.

Robert suffered from complications related to emphysema and died of a blood clot which moved from his leg to his heart. The whole town seemed to come out for his funeral. All those years in business had left Robert Brobst a friend to everyone, and everyone was his friend.

Janette Rallison: The difference between hay and straw and why you should know

noreply@blogger.com (Janette Rallison) — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 00:35:01 +0000

Actually, you don’t need to know the difference between hay and straw, and I’m hoping you think they're interchangeable. That way you won’t notice the glaring mistakes in the ARC of My Unfair Godmother.

So call me a city girl—I’ve never dealt with either plants, and when I was putting my own spin on the story of Rumpelstiltskin I called the straw hay half the time. I even had a couple characters wonder what the horses would eat if all the straw in the kingdom were turned into gold.

About half of you are laughing right now because you know horses don’t eat straw. Now that I’ve done a little research, I know that pretty much nothing eats straw because it has no nutritional value. This is probably why people in the Middle Ages used it to stuff mattresses and for bedding in the barn. (I did know that much.)

In my defense, Rogert’s Fourth Edition Thesaurus lists straw under the food category and there’s that scripture in Isaiah about the millennium that says the lion will eat straw like the ox—which I suppose is a translation error since there’s that no-nutritional-value problem which makes straw unappealing to animals. (Although my children seem to love foods with no nutritional value.)

I’ve had two people read My Unfair Godmother and one of them told me about the straw/hay problem. I emailed my editor and told her about the issue. I thought she was going to fix it before the manuscript went to ARCs, but no, I just an ARC and the straw is hay half the time.

Sigh.

I hate looking like an idiot.

Anyway, this whole blog is just a preamble to tell you that next week I’m going to give away an ARC. But you have to pretend you don’t know the difference between straw and hay.

Annette Lyon: WNW: Rules? Who Says?

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 15:44:00 +0000

Several people have asked me recently about the rules of grammar and usage. Who makes them? What determines what a rule is? When and why and can we break them?

To answer that, first, we have to back up a bit.

Language evolves; we all know that. Take a look at the opening line of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in the original, and your eyes will glaze over. (That is English? What the . . . )

My dad has the first paragraph memorized, and when he recites it, it sounds stinkin' cool . . . but nothing like English.

My History of the English Language class was taught, as I've mentioned before, not by a linguist as it should have been, but by a well-meaning but ignorant literature professor who had no clue what the material meant. (Fortunately, I could go to Dad to figure out what the HECK she was teaching.)

But the workbook was helpful. It gave us exercises to show how the language had gradually changed in very predictable ways (if this vowel came after this consonant, it changed into this one). We'd apply the changes to Old English sentences and get Middle English ones. Then we'd get a new set of rules, apply them and, assuming we'd done the previous set correctly, we'd end up with Modern English.

It was way cool, especially to see how the changes weren't random, but very systematic.

We did similar things with sentences in a current dialect: BEV, or Black English Vernacular. Such "street" talk may sound random and just wrong, but even it is governed by its own rules (whether the speakers know it or not).

That was a lesson in a simple linguistic concept:

No dialect is inherently better or worse than another. They all have quirks and rules and structure. There is nothing in and of a standard dialect that makes it better than another . . .

Except for the fact that those who are educated have picked the standard as the dialect of the educated. They've selected it as the "correct" dialect, for lack of a better term.

Therefore, to be taken seriously in school, jobs, and other settings, a person must know the standard dialect and know its rules.

If you break the rules of the standard dialect in a situation where the standard is called for, you risk losing credibility and looking uneducated.

But break the rules of the standard by speaking your home-town dialect with family and friends, and that's totally fine. That dialect is what's expected of you in that environment.

Most of us have several of these "registers" (sort of like mini dialects) that we use in different situations. For example, I'd tell the same story to a gal pal very differently than I would to a police officer or my parents or one of my children. In each situation, I'd slip into a different register, using different vocabulary, sentences lengths, etc.

Okay, so back to the standard dialect and THE RULES:

The rules change gradually over time. Note the over time part.

A true change can take literally decades before it's accepted as a new standard.

So who accepts it as the new standard? Essentially, if the majority of educated, standard-dialect speakers view the change as an acceptable usage, it's considered a new rule.

Forty or so years ago, parents constantly corrected children asking, "Can I go to the bathroom?" with, "May I go to the bathroom?"

But the word can has since taken on a definition beyond ability. It also implies permission. Today, you'll occasionally run into someone old-school who insists on the old definition, but kids today will grow up with the new one.

Recently we watched an old movie that had a moment using can in the old sense, with an adult correcting the child, and my kids were genuinely confused as to what the problem was. (And these are well-read, smart kids, if I say so myself.) The rule has simply changed. Can I go is perfectly acceptable now.

Another rule that's on its way out but has a few die-hard people holding on is whom (and its cousin, whomever). There's a funny scene on The Office about when to use whomever, and it's a great example of how the general (educated!) public has almost entirely lost the meaning of whom. (Pam, the secretary, knows the rule. Michael, the manager, doesn't. Then again, I wouldn't call Michael educated . . .)

Today, whom is so rarely used that in my own writing, I avoid any sentence structure that would call for it, because it would draw attention to itself. Can you imagine Kim from Band of Sisters asking "To whom does this straw belong?" Um, no.

Other books, including the new Mockingjay, use who in places where the old rule required whom, which again shows how things are changing and how we're getting pretty darn close to having who being acceptable in every situation. (But not in everyone's book, quite yet. I'd give it another ten years.)

All of this is why, in casual conversation and on blog posts, I don't worry about broken rules and the like. Those aren't situations (or registers) that require the rules, such as they are, to be kept.

But in professional situations, such as in articles and novels and the like, I tend to lean on the side of being conservative, to be sure that my colleagues, readers, and reviewers are aware that yes, I am well-versed in the standard dialect and know its rules.

And this is precisely why I freaked out when a copy editor added a lay/lie error to one of my books. I caught it at the last minute (phew!). And yes, I know 99% of readers likely either wouldn't notice or care. But I do. And I know that there are readers who do care.

I also know that the distinction between lay/lie is dying, but, to quote Monty Python, it isn't quite dead yet.

So it's a good idea to learn the rules, including what's gradually changing and how close the changes are to being considered standard. Then use that knowledge in speech and writing when the register is appropriate.

Hanging out with friends, I could well say, "Me and my sister went to the store," but if I'm talking to a prospective employer, I'd rephrase it as, "My sister and I went to the store."

Because I know the rule and the expectations surrounding the standard.

Lots of rules are bent all the time, and you can definitely get on those bandwagons, but if you're hoping to be taken seriously in a professional writing capacity, you do need to know the "real" rules of the standard and know how to apply them.

But then you can have fun breaking them in dialogue, because your characters can speak in whatever register and dialect they want.

Heather B. Moore: BYU Display of Authors

heather@hbmoore.com (Heather B. Moore) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 13:00:28 +0000

During BYU Education Week, the L. Tom Perry Special Collections opened a display titled "Literary Worlds: Illumination of the Mind." The display highlights 24 poets and novelists in various stages of their careers and writing processes. Manuscripts, letters, drawings, and various artifacts are on display, all of them fascinating.

I'm excited to be one of the featured novelists, along with many others, from Victorian to modern-day. My Alma the Younger novel is featured and the visitors can see the actual comments from my editor on various parts of the manuscript.

The display includes everything from handwritten editing notes from Orson Scott Card, to three sample beginnings from Janette Rallison where her editor kept encouraging her to "try again", and hand-written character cards from G.G. Vandagriff. Also featured is Charles Dickens, Walt Whitman, and Lewis Carroll to name a few.

My daughter, Dana, posing at the exhibit (above).

A catalog accompanies the exhibit and there is an excellent essay on LDS writers, including mentions of Annette Lyon, Josi Kilpack, Jack Weyland, Rachel Nunes, and many more.

Editing notes on Alma the Younger (you will see some back and forth debate)

The exhibit will be open for about 9 months and is located in the BYU Library, 1st floor, north side in the Perry Special Collections Department.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Living in an Osmond World: Stadium ON Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 10:00:02 +0000

Since Alan just announced on his Facebook page that they had begun work on putting together next year’s theme and talent for Stadium of Fire, I thought maybe I’d share one of my personal favorite adventures from Stadium of Fire.

In 1987, I began working with Alan not only on the Osmond Brothers fan club and newsletter, but also with Stadium of Fire. The first year I was nothing more than a production assistant, known in the business as a P.A. Mostly it meant I did lots of errands, running here and there across town or across the field on production days.

But by 1989, I was doing much, much more. I helped write the script, set up travel arrangements and accommodations for the talent, worked with the local media on public relations matters, kept track of complementary tickets for sponsors, and made sure the staff and crew got paid—a task some people probably considered the very most important!

One of the perks, and perhaps something that spoiled me for life about ever wanting to go again now that the show is run by someone else, is that I got to sit with Alan Osmond and Marilyn Toone at the production table during the show.

Oh, there were still times I was running the field, like the year I had to do cue cards for the song Keisha Knight Pullam was lip synching, after she spent most of the show sitting on my lap crying because she was afraid she would forget the words, and another time for the National Anthem, which Andy Williams was singing with the Osmond Brothers. (I never did figure out which one of them was afraid he would forget the words.) I had the chance to do run-throughs and direct the KSL hosts during rehearsal and part of the pre-show. And sometimes I was asked to cue talent as their drivers brought them onto the field for their part of the show.

But many times I just got to sit and watch, listen and learn from the main production table. Now, this wasn’t always a great thing. Even from that distance I thought I had been hit by the atom bomb when the million fire crackers went up in flame, but afterward I decided, like Alan, that it was pretty cool—or hot, whichever the case my be.

If you know anything about Alan Osmond, you know that he is pyromaniac! He admits it. He loves fire. He was the one responsible for adding flash pots and indoor fireworks to the early Osmond concerts, and his love for flame certainly didn’t diminish as the years went on.

What better opportunity to play with setting things on fire than holding an outdoor fireworks show—one of the biggest in the country—where he could shoot off rockets that were aptly named ‘Alans’ after him, set off a million firecrackers, or shoot flaming propane torches into the sky above the seats at LaVell Edwards Stadium and call them something as innocent as ‘fire trees’?

That was the reason why we were not surprised when the inevitable happened. I think it was during the Red, Hot & Blue Show in 1991. The main stage had been decorated with a giant star that was trimmed with a little metal edging intended to keep the flammable liquid to be poured inside it, then lit, contained.

Everything had been checked and rechecked. Fire extinguishers and stage crew were in place. The fire department had hoses strategically arranged, and everything seemed to be fine. The liquid was lit, the music soared, the flames burned into a beautiful star-shape and we sat and enjoyed the fireworks going off in the sky.

Then Marilyn noticed something and started talking rapidly into her headset. I saw Johnny Whittaker jump into action on the main stage. The little metal railing had somehow gotten pushed down on our side of the stage, and the burning liquid was oozing out over the ledge and onto the plywood stage floor. in a matter of minutes the liquid was not the only thing on fire. The stage itself was actually burning! Alan just kept staring at it all as though he were mesmerized.

“Alan, Alan,” Marilyn cried. ‘The stage is on fire!” She waved her hand in front of him, repeated her message, then waved her hands again, trying everything to get his attention to turn to the burning stage, but he kept staring at the sky. He, too, had on a headset, so he had to be listening to her conversation with Johnny, but as I said, he was in such a daze he didn’t react.

I reached over and touched his arm, and he turned to look at me. “Alan,” I said. “The stage is on FIRE!”

“I know,” he said. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Pretty!!!!!! Did he even know what he was saying? I’m not sure he ever realized the potential gravity of the situation, but before we could convey that true message, Johnny and the firemen had put out the blaze, and the stage crew set in to remove the remaining danger by foaming down the liquid and washing the residue from the stage.

As they say, “The show must go on,” and on it did proceed, but even from our seats on the sideline we could see that the beautiful Red, White and Blue that was once on the stage had truly become the Red, Hot & Blue the show had been named. The char marks left the floor not looking quite the same.

Although many people know about the million firecrackers, and some even say “I survived Stadium of Fire,” most don’t know how close we came that year to having the entire stage go up in flames, while Alan sat by and thought the effect was nothing more than PRETTY!

Tristi Pinkston: The Story of the Scout Shirt

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 23:18:37 +0000

It would soon be my son's turn to enter the 11-year-old Scouts in our area, and I had given some thought to purchasing a brown shirt, but with some trepidation. Those things are expensive, brand new. But then his Webelos leader showed up on our doorstep and gave us a shirt her own son had outgrown. Yes, this same leader. She's awesome, what can I say. Anyway, our shirt woes were over.

My son happily wore his shirt for a few months, and then it went missing. We looked high. We looked low. We looked in between. We ripped apart the house. We looked behind furniture. I even posted the dilemma on my Facebook status, and took all the suggestions that were posted in reply. It wasn't in the freezer. It wasn't hanging on the back of his door. The thing was simply gone.

I began to wonder if perhaps we'd been targeted by Scout-shirt-hating criminals who break into people's houses and steal their shirts. But when no ransom was demanded, I gave up on that idea.

Board of Reviews came around. He couldn't attend in street clothes, so he wore his church shirt and pants. (It took several minutes to find his pants, but I'm really not feeling emotionally strong enough to go into that.) He passed the requirements to achieve his second class ranking (woohoo) and then it was time for Court of Honor.

You absolutely must have a Scout shirt for Court of Honor. And, since he was part of the color guard, it was even more important than ever. I decided that the house was going down. I was going to peel back wallpaper to find that shirt, if that's what it took. I mobilized my entire family. We started at one end and began to demolish the place.

"I found it!" came the cry. My son had shoved it back behind an old TV he'd been hoarding for parts. My heart rejoiced.

"We have an hour until Court of Honor," I said. "Go throw your shirt in the wash. It's dusty, but we have time to get it ready."

With much pomp and circumstance, the shirt was placed in the washer, and then the dryer. The relief was great. I was overjoyed.

"Mom!" came the wail.

Did you know that a dark green crayon, when left in the pocket of a light brown Scout shirt, and then sent through the dryer, leaves dark green ink streaks all over said brown shirt, in such vast quantity that one would need an abacus to number them all?

I saw red. I also saw green, which caused me to see red.

There was nothing that could be done.

I grabbed the telephone and called a ward member, who has several sons, and begged and pleaded to borrow a shirt. Bless her heart (and her son's heart) they lent us a shirt.

"Go put on your church pants," I said to son. "We're going to be fine - we're borrowing a shirt. But we need to get your lower half ready."

"But I don't know where my church pants are," son said.

Oh, let us not even get started ...

We found the pants. We wore the borrowed shirt. He participated in the color guard and he received his second class. And now we're obtaining another Scout shirt. Which I'm going to staple to his forehead, right next to his church pants.

Writing on the Wall

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Wright) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 21:00:02 +0000

By Julie Wright

We are defined by or names. It is who we are and there’s usually a long and detailed backstory of how we came to have our own names. Stories like: She was named after her great grandmother who crossed the plains, or he was named after his uncle who died in the war, or sometimes less noble but no less noteworthy, we named her that because I hate his mother and he hates my mother, and this was the only name we could agree on.

I am named after my grandmother who, as luck would have it, was my very best friend growing up.

Some of us acquired our names because the name means something. Such as your name might mean nobility, beautiful, or strength.

Names mean things to all of us. I have certain prejudices against people named Becky because of some unfortunate incidents growing up. But I have a particular fondness for the name Cindy. A name is more that what we’re called; in so many ways, it is who we are.

Which is why a title is so important to a book. A title is so much more than just something to call your book. It is an intricate part of what that book is. My agent refused to send out my manuscript until I had a title that worked for her—that spoke to her on some level as to what the book was about. It was agony naming the book—pinpointing that one thing that made me sit up straighter in my chair and cry out,“Ah-ha!—so that’s what you’re about!”

When I sent her the title Death Thieves, she wrote me back and let me know she’d be sending the book out the next day. Once I’d distilled the book to its most basic form, I found it was about a girl who’d been kidnapped from her moment of death and taken to save a future where mankind is dying out. Oh, sure . . . it’s about love, and fear, and courage, and society, and family, and action—everything a good novel should be. But the title calls it what it is at the core.

A name defines us. It has meaning and depth. Our titles should do the same. A picture is worth a thousand words, but your title has to be worth at least the word count of your entire manuscript. People judge the book by its cover *and* by the title. If those two things do their job right, the guy standing in the bookstore just might pick the book up and flip it over to read the back-flap. And if that back-flap does its job, he might just wander over to the register and make a purchase.
The moral of this post is to be prudent in your choices for titles. You spent all that time to write your manuscript; it would be tragic if no one ever read it because the title didn’t do its job. Take the time to get your title right. Because I doubt a rose called stink weed really would smell as sweet.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Writing Wisdom: Dian Thomas

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 10:00:03 +0000

I’ve known who Dian Thomas is for about as long as I can remember watching TV. From her early appearance on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson to the eight seasons she did on The Today Show, I always knew she was an author who came from Utah, and she wrote a book called Roughing It Easy. She also did these really funky cooking things like cooking fish on your car manifold or something. I knew she had a fun personality, and that she seemed to be pretty good at getting herself written about in magazines, newspapers, and appearing on TV. Last year, I met Dian and started getting to know her, and I discovered that she had lots of ideas that could help anyone get themselves written about in newspapers, etc.—maybe even me!

Dian has put together a package of seminars and teaching tapes to help the inexperienced break into getting free publicity, and I won’t steal her thunder here, but I want to share few of her points that have been important to me. Maybe her ideas will also give a kick start to you on finding your way to free publicity.

One of the concerns Dian had to overcome when she first started making television appearances was to get over her fear of being on stage and in the spotlight. She learned to ask herself a question—Are you here to be nervous, or are you here to sell books? The answer was obvious, and she disallowed herself to be nervous, instead using the time to tell people about the things that were exciting and interesting in her books. The sales soared as a result.

Her next fear was that there were perhaps others who had more to say—more to teach. Obviously the newspapers had articles each day to fill there spaces, so she worried, “Why would they need me?” Until finally she realized that those other people getting write ups were really no different that she was, someone with a product to sell and the need to let people know about it, so her response to herself became, “Why not me?”

Three tips she gives to those of us who want to gain free publicity:
1. Be really positive
2. Be open to possibilities
3. Connect with people. Let them know where you want to do, and let them help you get there.

If you can solve the problem of the reader, you are on your way to success. And, you never know where the publicity you get will take you. Even press in the local market can help sell your product, introduce you and your talents to new people, and open the door for other opportunities.

Dian suggests you build yourself a press kit. With the rise of computer technology you can do much of this from home for both the print and electronic media. Write you own killer bio, include facts about your product, answer the top ten questions you know readers will have, give the editor several story ideas they can choose from, and include a high resolution photo or jpg of you or your product.

Many times the reason why people don’t get press for their successes is that they simply don’t take action. You can’t afford to sit around and wait for someone to recognize you would make the perfect subject for an article or be a stellar guest for a television show. You’ve got to be willing, and knowledgeable, about how to sell yourself.

Media is like a pyramid. Start at the bottom and work yourself up. Local newspapers are always looking for people they can feature. Even some local news or talk shows are looking for guests that meet the needs of their audience. You don’t have to jump first thing onto a national show like Oprah. Would you really want to anyway without at least some experience at finding yourself in the hot seat?

Learn how to write not only your own press release, but also how to write articles. Choose one that fits what your trying to sell. How to, lists, profiles, information, historical, personal experience, inspirational, travel, investigative, and humor all have their places in newspapers and magazines. Which one works best for you?

Dian’s mantra is, “Advertising is what you pay for, and publicity is what you pray for!” Look for ways you can get publicity to pay for YOU!

Annette Lyon: NOT an Anne Freak

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 16:48:00 +0000

I'll be back with my regular schedule soon. For today, here's a favorite post of mine from waaaay back, from March 12, 2007.

NOT an Anne Freak

I know this may come as a shock to many people. To many of my close friends, in fact.

But I am not an Anne of Green Gables freak.

Sure, I have every single one of the Anne books. They're all dog-eared and nearly memorized. I own all the movies except for the last one, which is a vile thing that should never have been made. (Any self-respecting fan knows what I'm talking about, and I could go on a rampage about the timeline, the characters, the technology, and the sheer adulteration of all things Montgomery, but I'll spare you.)

I was introduced to Anne in the eighth grade. It was the year when L.M. Montgomery's books were being republished after a long time of being out of print, and I scooped them up as quickly as they were being reprinted (and as quickly as my allowance and babysitting money let me). I remember the excitement of buying Rilla of Ingleside at the Farrer Middle School book fair.

My closest friends were doing the same, and we were all living the Anne life. We took long walks through nature and watched sunsets and ate cookies and had tea parties the way we imagined Anne and Diana might have. We started (okay, I started) a creative writing club based on Anne's.

But there was a big difference in how the rest of them viewed our activities. While they imagined themselves as being Anne, I imagined myself as her creator.

Forget Anne; I was Lucy Maud Montgomery!

Oh, I liked Anne. I still do. But I wanted to be the writer who made her up. I wanted to create a character and stories. I wanted the paper and pencil in my hands (or the keys of the typewriter under my fingers).

To this day, I have an entire shelf in my office that carries my LMM books. And it has a lot more than Anne; it has all of her books that I began collecting in eighth grade. At some point (when I really, really trust them) I'll let my daughters borrow them.

In addition to Anne, there's Pat and Emily and Marigold and Kilmeny and The Story Girl and Jane and Valancy and The Tangled Web and a slew of short stories. There's an autobiography. There's five volumes of journals. There's a CD of photographs and information about LMM's life. There's a first edition Windy Poplars. There's a volume that includes poetry and other writings that pre-date Anne.

If I'm being perfectly truthful, Anne doesn't even make the top three of my favorite LMM heroines. [2010 note: Those would be Rilla, Emily, and Valancy.]

To me, Anne is only a slice of who Maud really was. (No, she didn't go by Lucy. She hated that name.) For that matter, she only wrote eight books about Anne because the public demanded it. Even she got tired of Anne. Ever wonder why she started writing about Anne's KIDS?

I love learning about who she really was, what her life was like. How it differed from her books. (VERY MUCH.)

Some day I'd love to go to Canada and visit places that are special to her.

And no, it wouldn't necessarily be the Green Gables house, although that might be fun. I'd prefer the manses where she spent her married life and did the majority of her writing, and that might mean not visiting Prince Edward Island at all. Instead I'd go to Leaskdale and Norval, both not too far from Toronto, on the mainland. I'd visit her final house, which she aptly named Journey's End.

If I ever do go to PEI, I'll be sure to go to Park Corner and check out the little nail by the stairs that she used to measure herself on each time she visited her cousins. Those are the little human elements that make her real to me.

LMM has had such an impact on me that I've noticed phrases, characters, and even plot lines in my own work that hearken to hers--unintentionally. My computer is even named after her. (Maud, of course, not Lucy.)

As a nod, I try to read one of her books each year.

[2010 Note: Up next is Rilla of Ingleside, to me, the best of the Anne series.]

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Been There, Done That – Christopher Reeve

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 10:00:01 +0000

“Want to fly to New York for the weekend?” my friend, Cindy Burkert asked me.

I was three years out of college, and still not completely financially solvent, but I had a teaching job and a little bit of money, and this sounded like a trip too good to pass up. A group of people Cindy knew had put together a Broadway excursion and one of the members had to drop out right before the event.

Theater tickets had already been purchased for the two main events—Peter Pan with Sandy Duncan at the Lunt-Fontaine and something about a Sunday morning that I think starred a woman named Maureen. Hotel arrangements had been made, and airline tickets were reserved for the entire group.

“Sure,” I said. The travel package wasn’t too bad price-wise and the trip itself sounded too good to pass up, so the next Friday we were on our way.

I’d not been to New York before, and it was incredible to see. Times Square, the Statue of Liberty, and Broadway were all so much more, so much bigger than I had ever imagined. Even though it was a weekend, the hustle and bustle of people on the street was more intense than I’d ever seen in my entire life living in Indiana.

After some sight-seeing and a little shopping, we were off to the matinee of the Sunday play. It was a good play, but our seats were clear in the back balcony. It was hard to stay focused on what was happening so far away on the stage. Maybe that’s why the name and who starred in it have escaped from my memory.

An early dinner, and we were off for Peter Pan. This one was much better because out seats were smack dab in the middle of the theater. Of course I was familiar with the play, having seen the television version starring Mary Martin a couple of times in my youth. Being in the theater when Peter (Sandy Duncan) flies was truly magical, and I thought that performance alone was worth my coming all the way to New York to see it.

After the show, we decided to go to the top of the Empire State Building. You know how romantic that seems in the movie Sleepless in Seattle? Let me tell you, it’s not so romantic on a cold fall night when the rain is lightly tapping on the city streets. At the top of the building, the frozen stuff that hits you with gale winds isn’t rain at all, but more like sleet! And it was COLD!

We stayed just long enough to walk around to all sides of the building and glance at the lights below then headed back to the elevators and down toward the street. It took us several minutes to find a taxi back to the hotel, but at last we made it, frozen though we might be.

The next day we were on our own, away from the tour group. Our only requirement was to be at the airport in time for our evening flight back home.

“What should we do?” I asked.

“Let’s just talk a walk and see if anything looks interesting,” Cindy suggested.

I was game, so off we went. It wasn’t long before we discovered one of those kiosks where people can buy discount tickets for the shows that have not already sold out that day.

“How about another show?” I suggested, after all, we were on Broadway!

Cindy and I looked over the options and decided on a play we’d never heard of, starring a man we’d seen a few times before on TV, in an old soap opera called “Love of Life,” where he’d played a character named Ben Harper. Oh, and there was that other thing—a little film called Superman: The Movie.

The play was called The Fifth of July and it was running at the Circle Theater, which was considered Off-Broadway.

We got to the theater early and, with nothing better to do, we just sort of hung around outside. After awhile, we saw a tall man heading directly toward us. The walk looked familiar, even if the scruffy beard and shaggy hair didn’t. It was Christopher Reeve!

As he got closer, and seemingly from out of nowhere, a small group of girls appears, rushing toward us, cameras in hand. Flashes started going off and Christopher stopped to talk with all of us. Somehow in our blind luck, we had stopped in front of the stage door where he needed to enter to get ready for his performance.

He chatted for just a moment, signed a couple of autographs, then he said, “I have to go get ready for the show, but I promise, if you meet me right here afterwards I’ll pose for pictures and sign more autographs.”

Somehow I hadn’t even thought to take a picture!

We chatted for a couple of seconds with the girls who were there, but then like they had appeared, they were off, seemingly disappeared into the recesses of the city streets.

Cindy and I went around to the front and entered the theater lobby. I hadn’t really thought much about the location of our seats until we got there. Second row! And for a play starring Christopher Reeve, the man we had just met and discovered in person that he was gorgeous!

I was so excited for the play to begin and enthralled by the whole thing as it progressed, until. . .this incredibly good looking man who I had just had the chance to talk to and drool over did something few people had ever seen in a play, movie, or on TV in 1978. He reached over and kissed another man full on the mouth! Suddenly it hit me, his character was gay, a word that didn’t even have the same meaning at that point in time. And it was certainly the first time I’d ever thought about, let alone seen anything like that.
I remember being sort of stunned throughout the rest of the play, but that didn’t quell my desire to meet with Christopher again after the matinee.

The only problem, by the time the performance was over, Cindy and I had to rush—and I do mean rush—to make our plane! Our luggage had already gone over as part of the tour group, so we got dropped off and literally ran through the terminal, boarding just seconds before they closed the door and taxied toward the runway.

Not only did we not get to see him again, but we also hadn’t gotten to take any pictures, sort of our proof of what had happened that day.

Fortunately for me, I was talking about this experience one day to some Osmond fans I knew and fate brought luck my way. Two of the girls who appeared out of nowhere at the stage door turned out to be fans that I’d heard of, and even written to, but had never met. Sue and Nancy Carlson had come up to the theater that particular day from Westwood, New Jersey, hoping to meet Christopher Reeve. They did, and they took pictures, which, once we connected, they were happy to send copies of to me. (see above)

The first thing I did when I got back to Indiana? I went to the video store to rent a copy of Superman and thought about how Clark Kent had actually spoken to me!

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Wisdom Keys: Change Your Focus

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Sun, 22 Aug 2010 10:00:03 +0000

Have you ever taken a photograph that turned out to be blurry? Maybe your hand shook as you snapped the shot. Perhaps there was a smudge on the camera lens. If could be that the film speed wasn’t set right and that became the culprit. In any case, no matter what you do in the post-editing, you simply cannot change the focus of that photo once it’s already been taken.

Like that blurry photo, sometimes our lives become too far out of focus. We forget the goals we once had in the process of living from day-to-day. The dream career, perfect home, wonderful children, and life filled with traveling all become a boring job, a house that needs a good cleaning and lots of small repairs, kids who sometimes appear a little more dirty that we might like, and the last thing even close to taking a vacation was the drive from home down to the grocery without a screaming kid parked in the back seat of the mini-van.

Not that there is anything inherently wrong with that scenario, other than the fact it wasn’t quite what we thought we wanted. If we let ourselves sit around a think, “I hate my life,” then guess what—it will never get better.

You probably all know someone who never seems to have a good thing to say about anything. Complain, complain, complain. If you let yourself listen to the things they say wither one of two things will happen—you will start to feel so uncomfortable listening to them that you will leave, or you’ll just right in, sharing woes of your own.

And what happens if you take the second course? Pretty soon you become the person everyone knows who does nothing but complain about life.

Is that the way you really want to be? Somehow I don’t think so. We have higher aspirations in life. We set goals to make ourselves better. We look far into the future to help us keep out end results in mind. The simple truth is, losers focus on what they are going through, they are the whiners of the world. While champions focus on what they are going to do, then get themselves busy and do it.

What can you do it you find yourself a whiner and headed toward being a loser as a result? Look at the people you regularly associate with and make a change. Thomas S. Monson suggests, “Associate with those who, like you, are planning not for temporary convenience, shallow goals, or narrow ambition, but rather for those things that matter most—even eternal objectives. Choose your friends with caution; plan your future with purpose; and frame your life with faith.”

Like preparing for the better snapshot, you need to get your life in focus.

Champions find their inner determination, make themselves work with discipline, and use that burning desire to get them moving. They are not satisfied to sit around a wish that someday their dreams will come true.

Champions enjoy hard work and love the game. They plan for success. They are competent and optimistic. They visualize success, for themselves and are willing to help others. Champions are consistent, creative, and focused. Champions never quit.

Losers can’t hold it together for any of these things long than for a short period, usually less than a season of their lives.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t change. If you want to become a champion, you’ve got to change your focus. Find new friends. Change you job if its taking you nowhere. See yourself as the best in your field, then work hard to be there.

When it comes to being a winner, it’s up to you to make, then take the better picture.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Home Cooking: The Most Successful Un-Diet Ever

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Sat, 21 Aug 2010 10:00:00 +0000

Clear back at the beginning of the year, I started what I hoped would be a regular Saturday feature here on my blog. Although the stories I told were about food, I hadn’t quite focused on where I wanted these entries to go. I’d been inspired by the movie Julie & Julia, and I knew I wanted to tell about my own family food traditions, but after three entries, I wasn’t sure exactly where I needed to go.

The past few days I’ve been considering what I should do with several aspects of my blog. Trying to clean up the horrendously long list of labels among them, I decided to revisit the regular features I wanted to share. (If you read this blog on Thursday, you’ve already figured out that I came up with an entirely new series directed toward my family and genealogy.) When I looked at the feedback from my earlier postings for Saturday, I discovered that people really were interested in my stories about home cooking, so that’s where the new name for this blog feature has come from, and that’s where the focus will be.

Sometimes I’ll share stories. Others I may offer favorite recipes. I hope that somewhere along the way I’ll offer something that will whet your appetite. btu with that said, I think I need to say that I understand anyone who has a need to be careful about what they eat.

Back in April, I offered a post for another blog where I occasionally write (Pushing Past the Pounds) about the most successful un-diet I’ve ver been on. I thought maybe I should share that here with you, my regular readers, as well, so here goes.

ve known for a long time that I needed to be losing weight. My clothing size had grown. I could hardly walk from my car into my classroom each morning. When I looked into the mirror, I found a truly round face to match my round belly. I felt like Santa Claus, without his jolly.

The problem was that I was too tired to do much of anything about it. Ever since I had the radial head replacement surgery two years ago, I was having trouble making myself move. My arms hurt; my knees and legs still hurt from the fall; and my back was a constant source of ache and pain when I stood for longer than a few minutes.

My doctor told me to lose weight—but she didn’t have any advice how I could do it when I couldn’t walk, exercise, or breathe without thinking I was in the middle of a serious heart attack.

Then I found the answer. I’ve long been a fan of Dr. Wayne Dyer so when I saw him on QVC, offering an incredible price on his new book, DVD and CD series The Shift, I placed my order immediately.

Three weeks ago I was driving our sons to Big Water, Utah, to visit my husband on the set of a film he’s working on. Forget the advice we are given to spend time in the car talking to our kids. Mine don’t even consider it, and within seconds of starting the drive, DVD players and iPods were turned on, headphones in, and kids either watching, listening or sleeping, so I took advantage of the time and starting listening on my own to Dr. Dyer.

Much of what he talks about has to do with finding joy, creating spiritual wealth, and releasing our need for owning things, but one of his stories struck me as especially important. Dr. Dyer has recently been diagnosed with leukemia, and he felt it was important that he lose some weight to help with his treatment. He had spoken with a friend about a way to change hiss eating patterns and in less than 30 days, Dr. Dyer has lost 25 pounds.

Lost 25 pounds? That sounded like a great way for me to drop at least part of what I knew I needed to lose, so once home from the trip, I started the most simple and successful un-diet I’ve ever been on. Are you ready? Here it is:

Keep your sugar intake to less than 25 grams per day.

All I do is write down how many grams of sugar the food labels say are in a serving of a product, make sure I really am only eating one serving, and when I’ve gotten to 25 that day, I stop eating anything with additional sugar.

That doesn’t mean I’m necessarily done eating. I can still eat fresh veggies, fresh fruit, meat, cheese, eggs, and lots of things. I just don’t eat anything else with grams of sugar.

The result? By the end of the first week, I was walking into school without feeling exhausted. I could stand longer without my back killing me. My slacks weren’t quite to tight anymore. There was suddenly definition in my cheeks and neck, and my wedding ring could actually come off my finger without me having to pry it.

In the second week, my tummy was flatter and the upper portion of my arms weren’t as large and didn’t feel so tight. I could feel the bones in my cheeks and my thighs looked smaller.

You have to know, this had started to happen without any exercise. The only thing I had changed was counting the grams of sugar, and that in and of itself had been a surprise. The first day I had picked up my usually cup of healthy yogurt for lunch, only to discover is had 33 grams of sugar! WHAT?! Bread? 3 grams per slice. I looked at the skim milk I drink—6 grams per cup. I won’t even tell you what a glass of chocolate milk contains.

Just how much sugar had I been taking into my body that I hadn’t been aware of? I’d seen Dr. Oz haul out a wagonload of sugar on the Oprah show and say, “This is how much sugar we now eat in a year,” but I didn’t really believe him. I was trying to imagine adding that much sugar to my cereal in a morning and the thought made me sick. But once I started looking at the grams I was secretly taking, I was amazed.

And that alone was enough to convince me to stick with this program. But the bonus came when I visited the doctor.

I had been experiencing some symptoms that pointed to Type II Diabetes. My father had it; my mother had it; and both my older brother and sister had been insulin dependent. I was at a huge risk. Four weeks ago I had gone to the lab for a series of fasting blood tests. The results were not good and the diagnosis was in—I had also become a diabetic.

Of course, I didn’t know that yet until my actual appointment last week when my doctor had the blood tests rerun while I was in her office. And guess what, two weeks into my new way of eating, and all my levels had dropped enough to take me back into the pre-diabetic stages, and I’d lost at least 10 pounds since my last appointment in November.

With the addition of an hour a day exercise (okay, so I’m working up to that, but I’m already doing much more than I’ve done for the past two years!), and the continued change in my diet, my doctor thinks I’ll have this situation under control.

And I’m sure it certainly won’t hurt my figure!

It remains to see if I’ll make Dr. Dyer’s 25 pounds in 30 days, but so far I feel like that’s a reasonable goal, and after that—who knows!

That was my posting in April. Now, here’s the good news. The un-diet worked! At my latest visit to the doctor, we discover that I had not only lost and kept off over 40 pounds, but my sugar levels, cholesterol, and blood pressure had all returned to the levels that were normal!

And I’ve done all of this while still eating plenty of food. So, I know we can do it, if good healthy eating habits is what we actually choose to do. More thoughts on that in the weeks to come.

Heather B. Moore: Ammon--Officially Submitted!

heather@hbmoore.com (Heather B. Moore) — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 21:13:01 +0000

AMMON is officially turned in! After some major computer woes that slowed me down, I was able to get through the final edits and I sent it to my publisher on Aug 17. Below, I included the cover letter I sent along with it . . .

Dear [Editor],

I’m pleased to submit my new historical novel based on the life of Ammon, a Nephite missionary who turns down his birthright as a king to serve and teach the Lamanites the gospel.

In approximately 94 BC, Ammon travels with his three brothers and several other missionaries into enemy territory. The missionaries separate, and Ammon is captured along the borders of the land of Ishmael. When he is brought before King Lamoni, Ammon doesn’t preach right away. Instead he sets out to prove his loyalty and desire to truly serve the Lamanite people. When Ammon is confronted by a band of rebels who have scattered the king’s flocks, Ammon is forced to defend his own life, as well as the flocks, and he kills several of the rebels.

The king and his court are astounded at Ammon’s strength and can only assume that someone as powerful as the Great Spirit can defeat so many men at once. Ammon denies he is the Great Spirit, and takes the opportunity to teach King Lamoni the plan of salvation. The king is touched by the Spirit and collapses to the ground, lying as if dead for three days. On the third day, he rises from his sleep and declares all of the joyous things he has been taught of the Lord.

Although a king and a queen are converted and baptized into the Lord’s church, Ammon’s challenges have just begun. Most of the people in the city are reluctant to give up their idols, their temples, their human sacrifices, and diabolical practices. A rebellion rises up within the city, claiming that Ammon is a deceiver and has tricked the king. Ammon must rely on the Lord as never before in order to fulfill his mission and bring souls unto Christ.

Ammon is approximately 100,000 words. Preface, Epigraphs, Chapter Notes, and Bibliography will follow.

Please see attached manuscript. Thanks for your consideration. I look forward to hearing from you!

Sincerely,

Heather Moore

***************************************

Upcoming Schedule Stuff:

August 21, 2010 - Spanish Fork Seagull Book
2:00 p.m. -4:00 p.m. I’ll be signing copies of WOMEN OF THE BOOK OF MORMON and ALMA THE YOUNGER.

Sept 17-18, 2010 - League of Utah Writers Conference
SLC Airport Hilton Hotel in SLC, Utah. I’ll be teaching the Friday intensive workshop with my Precision Editing Group Senior Editors–Lu Ann Staheli, Annette Lyon, Josi Kilpack, and Julie Wright. Topic: “From Plotting to Final Draft: Getting Your Manuscript to Compete”. Registration and updates HERE

Sept 30, 2010 - The Book Academy Conference
Utah Valley University (Orem, Utah). I’ll be teaching a workshop: irport Hilton Hotel in SLC, Utah. I’ll be a workshop: “Life After the First Draft: Steps to Self-Editing”. Registration and updates HERE

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Week in Review: Summer Movies Part Deux

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Fri, 20 Aug 2010 10:00:01 +0000

If you’re a regular reader of my blog, you’ll know that my summer started off great with the time to see ten movies within the first few weeks of being on break. I had high hopes to have as many films ready to review for this time, but unexpected circumstances and family trips put the brakes on my efforts. In any case, I did manage to see five movies since the last time I wrote reviews, so I’d like to share my thoughts now on those with you. Like before, I’ll be careful not to include spoilers, but I’m also warning you—I WILL be honest.

Inception. I guess I’ll start off with the biggest movie, not only in the terms of box office receipts, but also to our family because my husband—the set medic—worked on the L.A. construction crew a few days. Inception is somewhat of a guy’s movie, although as a writer, I did enjoy the premise. To understand the movie, you really have to think, every single moment! Do not let your attention stray or you will be more lost than you thought you were. Despite the fact I paid very close attention, I still sat in the theater at the end of the movie asking, “What happened?” The movie is worth seeing for the concept alone, but in asking people who’ve seen it the greater number of positive responses seems to be from the man, rather than the women. My sons have seen the movie three times and loved it every time. Of course, Chan and Kent also loved the photos we took of them from the visits we made to a few of the actual film locations. All part of why these boys are destined to make movies.

Knight and Day. Another one of my favorite movies from this summer, and looking at that cute, cute smile of Tom Cruise didn’t hurt this one for me in the ratings. It’s been a long time since I thought Tom was really just plain cute in a movie, but this one put that to rest. Of course, my husband enjoyed seeing Cameron Diaz and comparing how she looks now to back when he worked with her on A Life Less Ordinary. His judgement: she’s still looking pretty good. Knight and Day completed what Killers only tried to do. I totally believed this story and thought the end was the perfect solution to the couple’s life. Oh, and if you decide to see this one—be prepared to laugh. It really is a comedic-romance and not the action/adventure flick it might appear to be.

Dinner for Schmucks. Although the premise of the movie didn’t quite match what we had expected from the trailer, and despite the fact the story itself took a little longer to develop that I might have liked, once the humor got started it was absolutely non-stop. Warning: there are several scenes that are not appropriate for kids, despite the PG-13 rating. Like Knight and Day, this one tied everything up with a perfect ending and left me completely satisfied. If you’re uncomfortable laughing right out loud in a small crowd, you might want to go on a night when the theater looks packed, because you WILL laugh out loud. It can’t be helped.

Despicable Me. Another vehicle for the wickedly funny Steve Carell, although I had a hard time remembering it was him because his voice was so different from what is expected. Super bad, or superdad? This movie left me feeling good. Move over Boo, there’s a new, darling little girl who wants to share the animated stage with you. Take a tissue with you just in case, and know you’l laugh in this one too.

The Last Airbender. Okay, this one was a real sleeper. Literally! I fell asleep about ten times during the film. And it wasn’t that I was so incredibly tired; I just couldn’t suspend my disbelief to attach to the characters. The kid who played the airbender was horrifically awful. Honestly, I’ve seen better performances on Saturday morning kid shows or at the junior high theater productions. It’s really sad when I couldn’t even stay awake for the climax and when the movie was over, I had no idea what had happened, other than the fact the director left the thing open for a sequel. Say it isn’t so!

So, I go back to work this week, but don’t mistakenly believe my summer moving going is over. I still have quite the list of want-to-see movies on my plate—The Expendables, Eat Pray Love, Scott Pilgrim vs the World, Charlie St. Cloud, and Nanny McPhee Returns among them.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: All in the Family

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 10:00:05 +0000

The loss of both a brother and a sister, and the fact that our remaining family members are so spread out across the country, has reminded me how important it is to share our family stories with each other, and with the next generations. I have those coming generations now as my nieces and nephews are old enough to have children, and some of those are nearing the ages to soon have children of their own.

With the advent of the internet and social networking, I now have contact with the family members of my parent’s generation, my own generation, nieces, nephews, and great-nieces and nephews—many of which I hardly knew or hadn’t seen since they were babies. I’m even in regular contact with cousins, both first and second, who I haven’t seen in years and years.

Many of these people are begging to hear more about the family members who have passed before them. A few years ago, I started a project to collect a one page history for as many of the members of my pedigree chart as I was able to do. I shared those pages with several of my family members via email at that time, but just keeping track was sometimes unwieldy to do.

So I’ve decided to start a new series here on my blog, with it’s automatic feed to Facebook, et al. I now that this series will not be important to all of you who read me regularly. You don’t know these people—well, there will be some you do! Just know I won’t be offended if you don’t read the Thursday posts.

But if there is one hope I would have for all of you who are not my family, it would be this: Know your family. Find out where you came from (you might be surprised, as I know my mother would have been if she only knew.)

For the rest of you, especially the ones who are related to me, I hope you learn something about the wonderful people who came before us and the legacies they gave us. Our pedigree is deep and varied, with one line dating all the way back to just after the life of Christ. Of course, I don’t know stories for all of these people as that would be impossible to do, but I hope to bring you as much insight as I can to those who I do know or were able to discover something about.

I hope my family will send me additional stories, and feel free to print or save what I have written to pass on to their own future generations. As a great prophet once said, "The greatest responsibility in this world that God has laid upon us is to seek after our dead."

Next week, we’ll get started, so pass along the word.

Annette Lyon: Listocity

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Thu, 19 Aug 2010 01:27:00 +0000

It's the end of summer, which, for a couple of weeks, has meant being very busy.

These weeks have included things like spending several days at various events for the LDS Booksellers Convention, where I got to handle the one existing copy of Chocolate Never Faileth (with strong instructions that I MUST return it . . . very hard to do!).

Also had a family camp-out with Grandpa during which we played silly games, fished, and had a great time (yay for my parents being HOME!). Then came a Lyon family reunion (yay for having ALL the Lyon siblings in the same state!) and getting ready for school (NOOOOOO! Please, no more money!).

Then there was random chaos of various levels, such as all the laundry from the trips, the AC breaking, and other loveliness.

Hence, I've had spotty Internet access at best and very little time.

And, hence, a 2-week bloggy absence.

I'm back, at least for today. And yes, it's Wednesday, but it's not Word Nerd Wednesday. My apologies. :)

Today, a list:

Yesterday was my day over at the AML blog. I remembered late into the afternoon, but the post did go up on my assigned day, the 17th, so it totally counts, even if I was sleep-deprived and rambled on about three or four different topics. Read it HERE.
One event during the LDS Booksellers Convention was author "speed-dating." Writers were paired together, giving 3-minute pitches of our books to 16 different tables filled with book buyers (store owners and the like). The best part: I was paired with Mary Jolley, author of The Green Diet. Mary began with scientific and scriptural evidence supporting the health benefits of eating a plant-based diet free of refined sugars and other bad stuff. Three minutes later, it was my turn: YO, CHOCOLATE, anyone? (As we left one table, an elderly gentleman patted the cookbook and said, "I'm on your side." I was surprised at how many people seemed genuinely interested in both books. Paradox, anyone?)
It could have been worse; we were paired by last name. Which means I got this close to being paired with Michael McClean. How can you possibly follow him around for 16 tables, maintain your confidence in presenting, or make a dent when he's speaking to table after table of rabid fans? I think I would have hyperventilated. (Side note: Later that week, he was inducted into the LDSBA hall of fame. Really cool moment. Totally deserved.)
Instead of book buyers, one of the tables had a camera, and we gave our spiels to it. You can see me yapping at the camera HERE. Seeing the clip afterward, I wanted to smack myself. Why I kept looking to my left is beyond me, but hey, at least I'm not talking at the speed of sound, the clip shows the cookbook itself, and I give a basic idea of what it's all about. It was filmed in the same room as the rest of the tables, with something like 150 other people talking nearby, during a loud rainstorm. Ergo, there's a lot of background noise. Consider it ambiance.
The companion DVD for the cookbook is about to be filmed. And here's a really fun bit of news: my good friend Sarah M. Eden gets to be my co-host! If we can keep ourselves from getting too slap-happy silly during filming, it should be a great DVD. We'll see how many recipes we can pack in 60 minutes. Several of the recipes that'll be on the DVD don't have photos in the book, so this is people's chance to see some of them. Should be fun!
Speaking of Sarah, our publisher is looking for reader help in selecting the title of her next novel. Participate in the survey by clicking HERE.
For now, that is all. Except that I need dessert and an ice cream sandwich is calling my name.

Tristi Pinkston: Book Review: Trapped by Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 15:56:01 +0000

Awakened one night to a strange sound in the next room, Emi Warren is terrified to realize that there's an intruder in the house. She's even more terrified to discover that he left a shrine to her and seems to know things about her past that even she doesn't know. The answers to her questions lie in the Austrian Alps, the birthplace of her deceased father. Taking a chance, she flies there, along with Daniel, the man she has secretly loved for years. Seeking out her father's ancestral home, she hopes to resolve the dark mystery surrounding her family, but then it takes a turn she never expected.

"Trapped" is the second novel by Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen. I enjoyed the suspense and found the twists and turns engaging and unique. There were some moments in the action that could have been more clearly described - I wasn't always sure exactly what was going on - and I did have a few issues with some of the minor plot points, but putting that to the side, it was an enjoyable read and I look foward to seeing more from this author.

A word from the publisher:

A Forged Letter, A Golden Vial, An Ancient
Curse...

Filled with family secrets, intrigue, and romance
the blog tour
(August 9-August 24) for Trapped by Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen will
have it all.

Her expression remained somber, but excitement crept into her voice. You are the Firstborn She...You must go to them. You want me to act as bait? Not bait, Emi. A spy. Our Trojan horse.

When Emi Warrin wakes one night to find a thief in her mother's house, she has no idea the intruder
has planted a trap - a mysterious letter that will change her life forever. Lured to the Austrian Alps with Daniel, the man she loves, Emi is thrown into a perilous, mafia-like world of feuding families and a devastating curse that spans generations. As the Firstborn She - the only firstborn female in hundreds of years - only Emi can free her family from the curse that will soon afflict her as well. But for Emi to break the curse, she must delve into evil designs. As Emi struggles to understand her destiny as the Firstborn She, she learns that everything isn't as it seems and that all choices have consequences. Can Emi break the curse before it's too late?

We will be giving away THREE autographed copies!

All you
have to do is leave a comment (along with your email address if it isn't
on your blog profile) and answer the following question.

Which Austrian city would you most like to visit?

The more blogs you comment on the more entries
you'll receive.
All comments must be left by midnight MST
on August 27 to be eligible.

August 9
Heather Gardner

August 10
Jewel Adams

August 11
Mary Greathouse
Teri Rodeman

August 12
Lynn Fowlstone
Christine Bryant

August 13
Valerie Ipson
Sheila Stayley

August 16
Deanne Blackhurst

August 17
Connie Hall
C.S. Bezas

August 18
Kimberly Job
Tristi Pinkston

August 19
Karen Hoover
Nichole Giles

August 20
Alison Palmer
Jessica Williams

August 23
Joyce DiPastena
Laurie Lewis

I received a copy of this book in exchange for my review. This did not influence my review in any way.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Living in an Osmond World: Did You Hear About the President?

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Wed, 18 Aug 2010 10:00:05 +0000

Monday, March 30, 1981, and the tumbleweed sisters (Susan Sackenheim Unklsby, Julia Daniell, Julie Prezedworski, Paula Zorne, and I) had finally made it thought a perilous journey---one that involved almost freezing to death in a blizzard in eastern Colorado (another story!)---to the land of Os---Osmond, that is.

Although our ultimate destination was Las Vegas and a week’s worth of Osmond shows, we decided to stop off in Provo on the way, in case by chance there was still an Osmond in town. And it didn’t take us long to discover, we were in LUCK!

Cruising around the usual Osmond haunts—the studio in Orem, the houses in Edgemont, and even the old Riveria apartments, just in case—we happened upon that sexy little convertible that Donny now owned, and a certain handsome guy, decked out in a gold Cadillac jacket just happened to be driving as it went flying by.

“Follow that car!” one of us shouted, and we were off, into parts of Provo that we had never known. Weave and dodge. Dodge and weave. That sweet little two door convertible sure could move. Around traffic, a sharp cut of into the campus of BYU, then suddenly, nowhere!

“Where in the heck are we?” someone asked.

“Beats me,” I answered.

Somehow we had suddenly ended up in a neighborhood filled with lots of apartment complexes, older houses, and an incredible scarcity of street signs or distinguishing markers. But the worst part of all—Donny had lost us!

Now the question becomes, did he know that he lost us or was he completely unaware that he was being followed? It didn’t matter—good sleuths that we were, we decided we would find him again, now that we knew his general location and what he was driving. After all, how many other people had a white and chrome convertible tooling around Provo on a chilly day like this one?

Round and round the blocks we went, until finally we happened upon a parking lot filled with cars. A restaurant, one that was more famous in town than we knew at the time, The Brick Oven, affectionately known as ‘Heaps’ for some unknown reason—at least to me. And there, parked not too far into the row by the door, Donny’s car.

We were in luck! At last we had found him. We parked our own car and sat listening to the radio as we waited. How long could he possibly be in there now, anyway? That’s when we heard the news. The president had been shot!

Shortly before 2:30 PM EST, as Reagan walked out of the Washington Hilton Hotel, a gunman had come forth and let loose a shot that had wounded the president. We knew that the entire Osmond family knew and respected this president. They had performed at the Republican Convention where he was named as the nominee, Merrill had helped produce the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s segment in the Inaugural parade.

With a single news report, the entire focus of our planned conversation with Donny had been changed. Originally we were going to talk with him about seeing him in Vegas the following day, but now we had something to share that was much more important.

‘Donny! Donny!” The minute he exited the pizza place all five of us were on him. “Did you hear? Did you hear the news? The president’s been shot!”

Donny did sort of a double take then asked for details. We told him what we knew, but at that time is wasn’t much. We chatted for a few minutes, and he even put a smile on his face to pose for a few pictures.

As we were leaving, we told him, “See you tomorrow” to which he replied, “But I’ll be in Vegas.”

“Yeah, we know.”

He got into his car, which almost left him sitting on the ground the thing was slung so low, and like a shot, he was off. (Okay, so maybe using the word shot in this situation wasn’t all that appropriate, but he was gone in seconds, nonetheless.)

True to our word, we did see him the next day in Vegas, and his response—“Hey, didn’t I just see you. . .? No it couldn’t be.”

Yeah, Donny. It was, and because of you, I’ll always remember the day the president was shot.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Writing Wisdom: Richard Paul Evans

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 10:00:03 +0000

I’ve worked with New York Times Best-selling author Richard Paul Evans now for around three years, and because of that I’ve had the opportunity to hear him given many, many presentations. Although some of the content is familiar, I still leave each and every presentation having learned something new. And Rick is someone worth listening to. After all, every one of his books has hit the Times list, and what newbie author could have a better mentor than listening to someone who has already been there multiple times.

Rick spoke at the Bookwise conference this weekend in Salt Lake City. This is an organization he began with the intent of helping people who wanted to become authors find their book inside them and have the chance to actually see that book on paper, ready to sell. Although Rick no longer owns the company, he is always there to present at its conferences gratis. Wow! Do other authors of Rick’s status continually support new authors, completely free? Somehow I doubt it.

Rick’s topic this time: The Power of A Book.

What makes a book something that someone wants to read? His philosophy is that the book must somehow connect with the common man. Books start revolutions, they bring about change. Its our turn to be a part of that. He considers it a privilege to be an author, and he is touched by the feedback he gets from his fans.

One means of obtaining that feedback that Rick really loves is through Facebook. “Facebook has brought me closer to my fans and given me a way to respond directly to them. I love it,” he says. It you want to be an author and you’re not one of Rick’s FB friends, I suggest you go over and sign up. You will learn not only about Rick’s writing, but also the craft of marketing. When it comes to marketing, Rick is the master.

He suggests three things that will make you a best-selling author. Without these three elements, you will be sure to fail.

1. Write about what matters to you. Stop chasing things you don’t care about. It doesn’t matter that everyone this year is publishing vampire books, or dystopian, or whatever the latest trend might be. Write what means something to YOU. Those books that are on the shelf today were likely bought by the publisher as much as two years ago anyway, and those publishers and editors are already onto something new, seeking the authors who have the vision to see into the future.

2. Remember: your book is a PRODUCT. Your purpose is to SELL. Know your market; understand your customer. If people aren’t willing to put money down to buy what you’ve written, the neither will a publisher.

3. Take chances! Rick likes to tell the story of how he once ‘crashed’ an autograph table at a big booksellers conference. The security person almost threw him out, but relented at that last minute when she saw the hope in Rick’s eyes. The next year, Rick was the #2 seller at the same show. He was an invited guest, and The Christmas Box had hit the New York Times. He believed in himself enough to get there. “Pay the price to make it,” he says. “Don’t be afraid to fail or you will.” He says to be grateful for the No, because that might simply be part of the process. He would never have gotten to where he is today if Deseret Book hadn’t told him No on that first book.

In his concluding remarks he says, “You need to write the book. It will change your life.”

Speaking of which, I’m signing off right now because I’m hard on work my own new book, and I’m setting the goal to make this one a best-seller.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Been There, Done That: Elvis

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 10:00:04 +0000

In the summer of 1977, I was a hard-working post-graduate student living in Bloomington, Indiana, where I had attended Indiana University. Because I did not get a teaching job right away after graduation, I took the next best offer---becoming an administrative assistant at McDonald’s.

Now, I won’t go too far off topic here, but let me just say, a job like that isn’t nearly as nasty as some of you might think it could be. Most of the time my job kept me away from both the counter and the grill, spending my time instead, counting the money! I got to leave the store every day for an hour while taking the money to the bank to be deposited. If only the contents of that bag could have found its way into my account each day. . . Alas. I digress.

Another perk for this still-starving ex-college student---during the hours I worked, I got to eat for free. Those free meals sure saved my budget, especially the days I worked both the breakfast and lunch hours. Even with all those free meals, I never grew tired of the fare, and believe it or not, even today, McDonald’s is my favorite place to eat food.

I guess I need to say it may have also been a favorite for someone else---someone who was famous---because one night, we served up Mickey D’s to the King himself. That’s right, Elvis stopped by my McDonald’s in Bloomington, Indiana, the store on North Walnut.

The Day: June 26, 1977. The time nearly midnight. For some reason I was in the store, maybe covering a weekend shift for another employees. I don’t remember the exact specifics of that night’s reason. I do know that a few weeks earlier a friend and I had discussed going to Market Square Arena to catch the Elvis Presley concert, but as I said, I was post-college poor and decided to skip the opportunity.

I hadn’t really been all that into Elvis anyway, and thought it wouldn’t upset me to miss the show, although I did have a tiny twinge of regret when the night of the show actually came. Of course, there was no way to know this would actually be the last opportunity I would have ever had to see the King of Rock & Roll perform in person.

Right before midnight, the evening crowd of hungry college students had slowed, and I was at the front counter, taking a minute to actually get it wiped down. We didn’t have many sandwiches made, the earlier bin count completely wiped by the last mad rush.

A car light flashed across the store window, and I realized a white limousine had pulled into the parking lot. This was something new. I couldn’t remember ever seeing a limo in the McDonald’s lot. Packed school buses yes, but a limo? Never.

A minute or so later, the driver of the limo came into the store, walking toward me at the counter.

“May I take your order?” I said, like a good little McDonald’s employee.

The Memphis drawl was unmistakable. “Yes, ma’am. I need two Big Macs a couple of large fries and two of the largest Coca Colas ya got there. And Elvis, he wants two Quarter Pounders with cheese, a large french fry, and a chocolate milk shake.”

Elvis! I had trouble making my hand work to write down the order. “El–Elvis? As in THE Elvis?” I stammered.

“Yes, Ma’am. He’s in the car and says he’s hungry,” the limo driver said.

“Oh, we’ll get that order ready right away,” I said, as I called back the order to the grill cook, who was standing behind the order window, with his mouth hanging wide open. I sort of snapped my fingers and he got busy. “Any pies with that order?” I added, knowing the script of the up-sell quite well.”

“Sure. Toss in a couple. How much we owe you, ma’am?” the driver asked and somehow I managed to punch in the correct items before giving him a total. He handed over the cash---maybe I should have traded it out with someone and put their money in the till. After all this money was only one step away from Elvis himself---and I gave him his change.

Someone else made the shake and drew the sodas from the fountain. By then the food was ready. I placed it in the paper bag and handed it over---food fit for a King.

The driver tipped his hat---yes, he wore one of those limo driver’s hats like you see in the movies—picked up the food order and exited toward the limo, leaving a store filled with employees who couldn’t believe what had just happened. A few minutes later, the driver---and Elvis---drove away.

I guess you could say the rest was history. The Indianapolis concert was the last Elvis ever gave. And on August 16, 1977, the King was dead. Yet here, these thirty-three years later, I still remember the night I almost met the legend, the King of Rock & Roll, Elvis Aaron Presley.

Long live the KING!

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Press Release: Coincidence or Purpose: It's All in Your Mind

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Sun, 15 Aug 2010 12:47:16 +0000

A thought comes into your mind. You don't know where it originated, but you feel compelled to act upon it. Sometimes you do, and interesting experiences or opportunities come into your life. Sometimes you don't, and you sit back and reflect later about how life might have been different if you had only. . .

Psychic and mentalist Jim Karol believes "everything happens for a reason." Our brains have more capability than we could ever imagine, including the power to show us where we should be and what we can become. "No matter what you want to become in this life, you can do it," Karol says in Psychic Madman, his newest book with co-author Lu Ann Brobst Staheli. "You don't need a special gift if you only discover how to interpret the messages that are already given to you—those bits of inspiration that come into your heart and mind."

Everyone experiences this insight, even if they seem to be of little importance at first. Check the door to make sure it's locked, set the timer before settling down to watch a video in bed, or using the car's parking brake when on a hill may all seem like trivial thoughts that pass through our minds. But what if we didn't follow those prompts of inspiration? Someone breaks into the house, you wake in the middle of the night disoriented by the blank television screen, or the car rolls down the hill, becoming one of those examples in an insurance commercial.

Perhaps your flashes of thought are of more significance. Call Mom, apply for a new job, or write a press release. The positives might be an important moment of time with your Mom, a great new job, or increased sales for your business. If you fail to follow that inspiration, it could be that nothing happens and you wonder why you considered acting at all, or it could turn out to be the last time you spoke to your mother alive, you are let go from your job without any new possibilities, or your company experiences a dip in revenue.

Granted, not every random thought that comes to mind is the key to a successful and abundant future, but you never know. Acting upon them certainly can bring about change in our lives. But what if you still don't believe your psychic moments are anything more than crazy thinking? Perhaps the only way to find out for sure is to test them. Start with something small—call this person today—and see where the results can take you. Karol encourages readers to "Become aware, stay positive and learn to use them."

Maybe these flashes of direction or insight are more powerful than you ever imagined. Perhaps you too have psychic tendencies. "It's possible you have been experiencing psychic moments without realizing it because you never knew it was possible," Karol adds. "Have there been turning points, little hinges that have swung a different way or a little farther, opening doors you never imagined to opportunities in your life that have made a difference in who you are and who you might yet become? If so, maybe it's time you recognized those gifts and talents, just like I did."

And if you do, you never know what will happen because in reality, everything is possible.

If you'd like to know more about Jim Karol and the way you can change your life by learning to recognize those moments of insight and developing your super mind, read Psychic Madman, available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Sourced Media Books, JimKarol.com or LuAnnBrobstStaheli.com.

(ArticlesBase SC #2811436)

Janette Rallison: My top ten writing tips

noreply@blogger.com (Janette Rallison) — Sat, 14 Aug 2010 16:14:57 +0000

Here's an article I did for WriteOnCon about staying power:

I used to think that having a book published was an approval stamp of my writing ability—like having stores carry my novel meant I had mastered the craft. Ah, what charming naiveté I had back then.

Truth be told, I knew very little about plotting when I started out. I got lucky that my first story came together without much effort on my part. That happens sometimes. But you can’t depend on it.

If I could attribute my success at being able to continue to sell novels to one thing, it would be all of the hours I’ve logged in trying to learn how to improve my writing. (Well, that and the fact that I seem to have an unending supply of embarrassing moments from my real life that I can use in my books.)

So here are a few of the most important things I’ve learned while writing the last sixteen books. (Numbers seventeen through nineteen will be out next year.)

1) Make writing a habit. Find a time every day to do it. I’ve written while nursing newborns. I’ve written while waiting for kids at swimming, dancing, and gymnastics lessons. (Did I mention I have five kids?) You don’t need to wait for inspiration. Write when you can and the inspiration will come.

2) Take advantage of other authors—no, not literally—I mean take advantage of the vast amount of information authors offer you. Right now I have over forty-five books on writing sitting on my bookshelf. You can find a book on any aspect of the craft that you need. Get some and read them. They will save you a ton of time on revisions.

3) Which leads me to a couple of points of craft that you really should know before you sit down to your computer: Don’t let your characters wander through your novel without motivation and goals. If you do, your reader will want to slap your character. Repeatedly. Whatever genre you’re writing, your main character has a problem and your book is the story of how they deal with that problem. Your character should have a goal and be working toward it. Check over each scene and ask yourself what conflict is going on in each one.

4) Your character must have reasonable motives for everything they do. Granted, in real life people do things without thinking. They often make no sense. Take, for example, Lady Gaga’s wardrobe choices. Or the fact that teenage boys are all currently brushing their hair forward so that it looks like it is attacking their faces. You see my point. However, your characters must always have clear reasons for the things they do or you’ll lose reader sympathy.

5) Have a satisfying ending. It doesn’t necessarily have to be happy (although most readers prefer that type) and your main character doesn’t have to reach their goal, but you as the author have an unwritten contract with your readers. You’re asking them to invest their time and money in your story and you in return need to answer your story question and tie up loose threads. Your ending is not a dream, it is not a jumping off point to your next novel, and whatever else you do, it is not some artsy non-ending where the reader is supposed to interpret for themselves what it all means. If readers wanted to come up with their own endings, they would write their own stories, not buy yours.

6) Learn to use point of view. Put us deeply into your character’s head and we’ll care about what happens to him or her.

7) All right, now I’m getting off the craft soapbox and going on to a few other things I’ve learned. Selling the book isn’t the end, it’s the beginning. Oh, I know you thought you were just supposed to sit back and write the book, but not so, my friend, not so. You’re supposed to be out promoting yourself. This means doing a website, contacting newspapers, bookstores, and any other venue that might be interested in your book. This means—in my case—getting up in front of auditoriums full of junior high kids and giving presentations. And what could be more fun than a crowd of antsy, hormonal teenagers? Well, sometimes live tarantulas, but that is beside the point—because very few tarantulas buy books.

8) Network with other writers. Pretty much everything I’ve learned about this business has been from fellow authors. They’ve sent me flyers so I can see what’s supposed to be on them, they’ve told me how to write proposals for conferences, and pointed me in the direction of people who can do booktrailers. They’ve listened while I’ve griped about revisions and cheered me up when I’ve been so burned out I was spitting out ashes. There are tons of email lists and critique groups out there. Find one you like and join.

9) Read a lot. Not only is it fun, it will help improve your sense of pacing. That’s like eating a Snickers bar and having it help you lose weight. (I keep eating Snickers bars, by the way, and so far it hasn’t actually helped me lose weight.)

10) Keep in mind that writing books will probably not make you rich or famous. In fact, it probably won’t change your life all that much—unless you count the fact that you will have less time to do housework. Write because you love writing

Tristi Pinkston: It Was Almost Beautiful ...

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 12:22:37 +0000

Over the course of the last month, we've had a problem with doorbell ditchers. They like to come around midnight, which doesn't wake me up because I'm up anyway, but it's annoying and rude.

Sunday night, I was looking around my kitchen and noticed a distinct lack of food. My mom was visiting, and I asked her if she wanted to go for a midnight grocery run with me. (See, it's not breaking the Sabbath if you wait until midnight to go.) She agreed, and went home with the plan that she would come back at midnight to pick me up.

My son was sitting on the couch, unable to sleep, as 12:00 approached. Suddenly I got a wild-hair idea.

"I have the feeling someone's going to knock on our door tonight," I said.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"I've just got this feeling. Now, when they come, I want you to fling open the door and catch them."

He squatted by the door, ready to help bring down the nefarious ditchers. After about a minute, he said, "Are you sure they're coming?"

"Yes, I really, really feel that they are. Just keep waiting."

About thirty seconds later, a knock sounded at the door. He jumped up and opened it. "Oh, hi, Grandma," he said, letting her in.

Now, that was amusing. But this is how I envisioned it:

Son throws open the door with a loud cry of "Gotcha!"

Grandma jumps and screams.

Son jumps and screams, realizing it's his grandma.

I collapse into hysterical laughter, having gotten both son and mother with one practical joke.

Oh, well. It was almost beautiful.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Living in an Osmond World: The Great Grocery Store Caper

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Wed, 11 Aug 2010 10:41:02 +0000

In the mid-1980s I lived in the same Georgetown condos where Marie and Brian lived. One of my roommates was Anita Lang. Some of you may know Anita since she traveled on the road with Marie, helping with her costume changes and over-seeing the merchandise sales. Occasionally I would get a call to run to the airport and pick up Anita to bring her home.

Going to the airport was a regular part of my life back then, and it seemed that I was also a taxi service for Osmonds who got left standing on the tarmac. At various times I saved Alan, Merrill, and Jay from being stranded when their brothers drove off and forgot to give them a ride back to Provo, so being an Osmond chauffeur wasn’t anything new to me.

On this particular day, we had an extra passenger. Marie–and her 52 pieces of luggage! No, it only seemed like that many, but between Marie and Anita, the trunk and half the backseat of my Chevy Cavalier were stuffed full.

Not a problem! Marie was tiny and able to squeeze into the backseat on the other half and ride semi-comfortably the fifty miles from the airport to Provo. Anita and I were in the front.

The problem began when Marie decided that, before going to the condos to drop off the luggage, we needed to go to Albertsons to shop for food! “I’ve not been home for a month and there is nothing in the house to eat!” she said.

So off we went. First thing, she grabs a grocery cart and starts to shop, with Anita and me following along behind her as Marie tosses item after item into the basket. By mid-store, and the time we reached the ice cream aisle, Marie says, “Want an ice cream?”

Anita and I both said no, but Marie said, “Have one anyway,” as she opened the freezer, yanked the wrappers off a chocolate Haagen-Dazs bar for each of us, and shoved the sticks into our hands. Then she got one for herself as well. “I’ll pay for these at the check-out,” she said as she parked her already-too full cart. I’d never thought to eat anything while I was grocery shopping, but I guess Marie thought it was alright, so I decided to give it a try–while hoping to overcome my feelings of guilt, like something about this practice was wrong.

Snagging a cart left abandoned in the middle of the aisle, Marie pointed to her already-full cart and called to the cashier, “I’m just going to park this here until I’m done,” and we were once again on our way.

Another loaded cart later, I stared in wonder at the amount of food Marie had gathered, wondering where in my tiny, already over-loaded car we were going to put all this stuff!

By the time we were done, there were bags wedged between pieces of luggage in the truck, bags piled clear into the back window, filling every open spot there. Anita had to stand outside Marie’s door and push it closed for her, then we hoped nothing would happen that would make her pop out! Once Anita was back in the car, she herself was surrounded by bags on the floor and even a few in her lap, and the area between the two front seats was lined with groceries. One sat so close to the gas pedal I worried that food would fall onto my feet and cause us to have an accident.

But everything was going to be okay. We were finally on our way to the condos where we could unload.

“We need to go pick up Brian,” Marie said almost immediately.

“Where are we going to put him?” I asked.

“Oh, there’s plenty of room,” she assured me.

Right, I thought, but I drove where she told me and soon I pulled into the driveway. She opened her door, a few groceries making their escape onto the cement as she called, “Be right back.”

Anita and I just shook our heads. “Is it always like this, traveling with her?” I asked.

“Usually,” Anita said.

Then Marie was back, along with Brian. He tossed the loose groceries back into the seat, on top of the already piled bags on the other half, sat on the tiny piece of upholstery left vacant–have you ever seen the size of a backseat in a Cavalier?–and helped Marie rest on his lap, her head cocked to avoid smacking it into the ceiling.

It took him a few tries to get the door pulled closed enough to latch, and we were off. I’m sure we looked something like those clowns in the tiny cars you see at the circus.

Luckily, we were only about ten minutes from home, and I guess it’s great that we had Brian with us to help unload all those bags and pieces of luggage, but I’m here to tell you the great grocery shop with Marie was the most interesting experience I think I’ve ever had, at least in an Albertsons.

Photo: 1979 Las Vegas by Stan Blackburn

Writing on the Wall: Come to our All-Day Workshop

editor@precisioneditinggroup.com (Precision Editing Group) — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 07:23:07 +0000

Precision Editing Group has been invited to teach the Friday Workshop for the League of Utah Writers annual writers conference. For more information and registration visit HERE.

Join us in Salt Lake City,Utah, on Friday, September 17, for an all-day, hands-on intensive workshop:

Topic:

From Plotting to Final Draft: Getting Your Manuscript Ready to Compete

Heather Moore, owner of Precision Editing Group, and four senior editors will teach this in-depth, hands-on workshop: From Plotting to Final Draft: Getting Your Manuscript Ready to Compete. Publishers and agents receive thousands of submissions each year. More so than ever, your book concept needs to stand above the rest, and your writing needs to be tight and carefully edited. Come ready to write, to learn, and to discover how to take your manuscript to next level.

About the instructors:

Josi Kilpack writes women’s fiction and suspense. She’s an award-winning suspense author and has published nearly a dozen novels, her most recent includes the best-selling Sadie Hoffmiller mystery series.

Annette Lyon is the award-winning author of several contemporary and historical novels, as well as the popular grammar guide, There, Their, They’re: A No-Tears Guide to Grammar from the Word Nerd, and the upcoming cookbook, Chocolate Never Faileth.

Heather Moore owns and manages Precision Editing Group. She is also an award winning author of seven historical novels and one non-fiction work.

Lu Ann Staheli is a Best of State winner for Educator, K-12 grade. She is the co-author of the recent memoirs, When Hearts Conjoin: The True Story of the Herrin Twins (also 2010 Best of State winner), and Psychic Madman.

Julie Wright is the author of several YA novels, both contemporary and fantasy, including the science fiction series, The Hazzardous Universe, which is blasting off February 2011.

Heather B. Moore: My Alpha Readers

heather@hbmoore.com (Heather B. Moore) — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 20:53:09 +0000

Most of you know what Alpha Readers are. They're those pesky people who either a)beg to read your manuscript in advance so they can offer sage advice, or b) I beg to read my manuscript so that I have a better chance of getting it accepted and (hopefully) breezing through the editing stage with my publisher.

Last month I completed the first draft of AMMON. The first thing I did was take a couple of days off (writers like Allyson Condie take an entire month away from the manuscript).

When I can't stand the wait any longer, I start on the 2nd draft process. This is what I do:
-read through manuscript on the computer
-flesh out scenes that I left hanging
-research "holes" or "questions" I wrote to myself
-work on better transitions
-organize chapters so that there is an average of 10-20 pages per chapter
-track character introductions so that they have descriptions, etc
-combine sentences and get rid of passiveness where possible
-add commas

After the 2nd draft is ready, I send it to Alpha Readers.

For AMMON, I'm doing something I haven't done before. I asked three people who are not writers or editors to read the manuscript. I decided on three so that I'd have a good variety. They've read all of my books and have enjoyed them for different reasons.

Then I chose three more Alpha Readers who are excellent writers and excellent (although a bit nerve-wracking) editors.

This will give you a good idea of feedback I've received based on the type of Alpha Reader.

Alpha Reader #1: 28 comments
Alpha Reader #2: 859 comments

Can you guess which one is the editor/author?

Regardless of the number of comments, all of them have been helpful. I don't always take every bit of advice, but I do consider it, especially if I hear it more than once. So it's important to have the feedback of more than one or two Alpha Readers. (you always need a tie-breaker, right?)

And the best part is that I still love the story. I've hit burn-out on the computer, but not burn-out on the story. When I'm reading certain sections, I'm just as excited about it as I was when I was writing.

Just for fun, here are the cast of characters (names subject to change):

CHARACTER CHART for AMMON

Ammon: oldest son of King Mosiah

Aaron: son of King Mosiah

Omner: son of Mosiah

Himni: son of Mosiah

Muloki and Ammah: missionary companions

Lamoni: King of the Land of Ishmael
Son: Pacal
Daughters: Meztli & Romie

Moriah: King’s Clothier
Son: Zaman
Daughter: Elena

Abish: Servant to the Queen

Gad: Blacksmith

Loki: Brother of Gad.

Dedan: Friend of Zaman

Pahrun: King’s head guard and chief advisor

Kumen: servant

Corien: servant (brother to Kumen)

Janette Rallison: I stand corrected

noreply@blogger.com (Janette Rallison) — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 16:53:55 +0000

The cover of my book, Playing the Field, has always bothered me, because as I told the Bow-Tied one long ago, "People don't stand that way."

I mean, really, have you ever stood there contemplating something with your hand on your chin?

But apparently some people do. Or at least the French president does. Clearly, my main character is destined for a life of politics. Or girl watching.

Annette Lyon: WNW: It Bugs Me Anymore

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 14:05:00 +0000

Some time ago, Erin asked whether any words were particular peeves of mine.

I could easily list of a bunch of broken rules that are peeves (many I've discussed here at Word Nerd Wednesday), but while I knew I had word peeves, I couldn't think of any offhand.

Then I heard one misuse over and over. That's it, I decided. Time to post that one. It's just one word, but a word that is constantly misused and has therefore become a hated one for me:

ANYMORE

I know, random, right?

But it's used incorrectly so often that it's like nails on a chalkboard to me. (The title of this post is yelling at me to change it.)

When anymore is correctly used, we refer to a way something once was, and then state it in the negative: It's not that way ANYMORE. Things have changed.

For example:

When I got my driver's license, gas was about a dollar a gallon. You can't buy gas that cheaply anymore.

I learned to type in high school, but with the advancement of technology, that's not early enough anymore. Kids needs to learn keyboarding skills in grade school.

THOSE ARE CORRECT USAGES.

What drives me absolutely bonkers is when people use anymore to mean nowadays. It's like they're skipping over the how it used to be part and landing on the anymore part.

Skip all you want.

Just don't use that word if you aren't using it in the negative sense.

WRONG examples:

Anymore, gas is so expensive.

Kids need to learn to type younger and younger anymore.

Shudder. Just writing those out makes me want to hurl something against a wall. Do you see why the post title is wrong? I hope?

When someone uses anymore incorrectly, they're thinking back on how something has changed, sure, but they aren't mentioning the current situation in the negative. There is no clear reference to the past. There is no anymore.

Easy tip:

Use anymore if you're using both sides of a direct comparison ("Things used to be like this, but they have changed and aren't like that anymore"), or if you're referring simply referring to a fact that HAS CHANGED and do so IN THE NEGATIVE ("They aren't as friendly anymore").

Use nowadays if you're just jumping ahead and discussing how things are now without a direct or implied comparison of how things have changed: "My kids do the lawn mowing nowadays." Note that we can guess that things used to be different, but there's no negative saying so. (Hence, no anymore.)

Here's the correct usage of both in two situations:

I don't mow the lawn anymore.
My kids mow it nowadays.

This radio station plays the weirdest stuff nowadays.
I prefer classic rock, but this station doesn't play it anymore.

Make sense?

My nerves thank you in advance.

Tristi Pinkston: Book Review: Hometown Girl by Michele Ashman Bell

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 13:26:49 +0000

"Hometown Girl" is the second installment in Michele Ashman Bell's series, "The Butterfly Box," which features a group of women who were friends in high school. They were brought together by the tragic death of one of their friends, and every year they meet together to discuss what they learned from that death and what things are going on in their lives now. They collect memorabilia in a box with a butterfly on it, and each year, a different woman takes the box home with her to be her good luck charm until the next reunion. In the first book, "A Modest Proposal," the box went home with Lauryn, and we saw her create a new career for herself while staying true to her standards. In "Hometown Girl," we get a closer look into the mind and heart of Jocelyn.

Jocelyn's grandmother passed away a few years before, and she left her house to Jocelyn. A nice little home in Milford Falls, it has sat vacant ever since. Jocelyn knows she should do something with it, but she's not sure what. Selling it seems like getting rid of a piece of her grandmother. Maybe if she waits a little while to make the decision, she'll know what to do.

But the mayor of Milford Falls is a neat freak, and he can't stand the fact that the house is going to ruin. He calls Jocelyn and demands that she come and clean up the place. Her work has been a little unsatisfactory, and she has some time on her hands, so she decides that she's going to head up and take care of her grandmother's house. The Butterfly Girls even suggest that she might consider moving to stay there, and she thinks about it, but she's not sure. She spent one summer there in the past, and while she appreciated her time there, she's not sure she wants to relive it.

When she arrives in town, she discovers that the house is in need of serious repairs. She does what she can on her own, but hires Jack, the town handyman, to finish up the rest. She feels a connection to him, but her past keeps her from fully exploring her feelings.

My Review:

Michele Ashman Bell has a way of creating characters you'd like to get to know personally. It was easy to cheer Jocelyn on as she made needed changes in her life, stepped out of her comfort zone, and began her journey toward healing. I would have liked a little more foreshadowing when it came time for her to reveal the truth about her past - that seemed a little out of the blue to me. I did also want a little more emotion from Jocelyn. That said, I enjoyed the read very much. It was fun to watch her renovate her house and to "see" what she planned to do with the place, and to watch the growing chemistry between her and Jack. You could really root for their relationship, and I did.

In conjunction with this blog tour, you can win a $50 gift certificate! Click here to visit Michele's blog and learn more about it.

I received a copy of this book free in exchange for the review, and this gift did not influence my thoughts.

Janette Rallison: Why writers shouldn't write warning signs

noreply@blogger.com (Janette Rallison) — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 00:27:05 +0000

Ahh, but I really wanted to prance across the plants . . .

Janette Rallison: Apparently the random number generator can be bribed

noreply@blogger.com (Janette Rallison) — Sun, 01 Aug 2010 23:02:21 +0000

Because the first person Randy chose was Candace, who promised to send him chocolate if she won. I'm not sure how you're actually going to get that chocolate to the random number generator, Candace, but I'll let the two of you work that out.

Botterfly girl is also a winner so send me your addresses at jrallisonfans @ yahoo dot com. And Vanessa (last week's winner) your book is still sitting on my countertop. I went off to a writers retreat thinking that my dear husband would read my mind and know he was supposed to take that to the post office, but apparently he flunked mind-reading classes.

Tristi Pinkston: Out of the Mouths of Babes ...

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 16:23:21 +0000

My mom is five feet tall, and my kids have noticed the difference between her size and that of other adults. Every so often, they make a comment that just cracks me up. Like today, for instance ...

5-year-old came running over to the couch. I boosted him up to sit on my lap, and I said, "You are growing so much."

"You're growing too, Mom," he said.

"No, I'm not. I'm as big as I'm going to get."

"Why?" he asked. "Is your grower broken?"

I chuckled over that, and then chuckled more when the 9-year-old chimed in. "Yeah, Mom. Is your grower broken, like Grandma's?"

Annette Lyon: Giveaway Winners & The Winning Story

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 13:58:00 +0000

Announcing the winners of my 4-year Blog-Anniversary Extravaganza!

Thanks to everyone who participated; it was a lot of fun. It'll be fun exciting to see what the next four years hold.

First, one bit of fun news:

With the release of my cookbook, Chocolate Never Faileth, in October, a companion DVD will also be for sale. Picture me doing a 1-hour chocolate cooking show! How cool is that going to be?

I'm in the process of talking with the director, deciding on which recipes to demo, and all that fun stuff. I've never done something quite like this before, but I think it'll be a ball.

(Biggest challenge: constantly telling myself to . . . talk . . . slowly . . .)

And now: The Winners!

NOTE: All winners must e-mail me their mailing addresses so prizes can actually GET to them. If I don't hear from you w/in a week, your prize will be forfeited.

3 COMMENTING and spreading the word winners:

THE CANADIAN CHOCOLATE PACK from Kim goes to Sarah M. Eden for her blog post telling readers about the contest.

All the Stars in Heaven, by Michele Paige Holmes: In a true twist of Karmic fate, Random.org picked Kim (who donated the chocolate prize) to win a prize of her own!

Alma the Younger, by H. B. Moore goes to Norah S for her comment.

3 TRIVIA Game Winners:

(Tip: Next time, enter this part of the contest. Your chances of winning were REALLY good, and I made the questions easy to figure out. Just sayin')

Spiral-bound Notebook & Pen (with the quotes, "Unlock your mind; read," and, "Don't bug me; I'm writing." This prize goes to Elizabeth Morgan.

The Mouse Pad (Quote from Groucho Marx: Outside a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside a dog, it's too hard to read.) goes to a friend I haven't seen in years (and one of the original members of my critique group TEN years ago!), Sherri.

T-shirt with the quote: "A house without books is like a room without windows" goes to Melanie J.

And lastly, the story winner.

Yes, that's the winner, singular, because only ONE person sent in a story. (See what I mean about entering in more than one area? You could have won a prize if you'd just sent in a story!)

The winner is TJ Bronley, a great supporter of local writers and a really fun guy (read this post on his blog for a great laugh, including the comment trail. Oh, and this one, too.) I'm also partial to his sweet wife, so I'm glad he entered and won some goodies for her.

Since I had planned on three winners for stories, but we have only one, I figured it was only fair to give TJ TWO prizes. (I even had another sponsor offer yet another awesome prize, but knew we wouldn't have the entries to justify it. Come on, people! Maybe next time?)

TJ said anything he won would likely be a gift for his wife, and that's fantastic, since here's what he gets:

A copy of Stephanie Humphrey's debut romance, Finding Rose, published by Walnut Springs.
A custom piece of jewelry from Bangles, Beads, N' Bobbles.

The story rules were to keep it to 250 words and either begin or end with the following sentence: In hindsight, it wasn't such a good idea.

Behold, TJ's winning story:

Better Left Unsaid

I saw her from far away. She was easy to spot across the room. Casually walking toward her, I interacted with as many people as I could. Delaying the impending discomfort was a procrastinator's lifeline. Her brother stopped me about ten feet from her by grabbing my arm.

“Dude, are you gonna talk to her?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” There was almost a warning glance in his eye. “Everyone will be watching you.”

Of course it wasn’t. “Yes, it’s gotta happen,” I replied.

“Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me.”

I pulled my arm away and continued my saunter.

“Hey, Tim,” she said as I approached.

“Hey, Casey.” It was now or never. “You have toilet paper sticking out your pants.”

She looked down, a horrified look on her face.

“Everyone’s noticed. I finally saw you.”

“I went to the bathroom a half hour ago! People have been staring at my butt that long.”

“I guess so,” I replied.

SLAP!

She stormed off while I placed my hand on my throbbing cheek.

In hindsight, it wasn’t such a good idea.

Tristi Pinkston: Movie Review: To Save a Life (2010)

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 02:34:35 +0000

Jake Taylor has everything. He's the star on his high school basketball team and he has a scholarship to the college he's always dreamed of attending. He lives in a gorgeous house, he has a beautiful and popular girlfriend, and he's the king at every keg party. He thinks his life can't get any better. Until the day when his best friend Roger walks into school and shoots himself right in front of Jake. Suddenly Jake realizes that everything that mattered to him doesn't any more.

Roger liked to play video games. He walked with a limp, and he was black. Any one of these reasons would have made him the target of bullying at school, but you put all three of them together, and he had no chance. Rejected by his peers, and rejected everywhere else, Roger felt as though he was screaming for attention, and no one would listen. Shooting himself was the only way to get the attention he so badly wanted, and Jake took upon himself the blame. Jake had been so busy seeking the acceptance of the cool kids and the cute girls that he, too, had turned his back on Roger, despite how close they had once been.

Wracked with guilt, Jake seeks out the local pastor, who takes the time to talk with him about his feelings and what he should do with them. It was here that the movie took on a new depth for me, and I really started to think.

Jake told the pastor that he didn't just want to be some Christian, and the pastor agreed. God doesn't just need more Christians. He needs Christians who believe it and do it. Jake made it very clear that if he was going to change his life completely and become a Christian, it would have to be something that he did with his whole heart and soul. He was not going to be a hypocrite. He starts by seeking out the kids at school who were loners, like Roger had been, and inviting them to sit with him at lunch. One boy, Jonny, was in special need of friendship, and Jake was able to provide that for him.

Jake decides to get baptized, and shortly afterward, everything falls apart. His girlfriend comes to him and tells him she's pregnant, and his parents announce that they're divorcing. Jake wonders where God was through all this, and questions if it's worth it to try to follow Christ. But then he realizes that it's with God's help that he'll be able to solve these problems, that God didn't cause them. The wheels had been set in motion long before Jake converted, and the consequences had to be experienced. He then humbles himself and does what he can to correct his mistakes.

This film touched me on a lot of different levels. At first, I was deeply moved by seeing these kids as the victims of bullying and the very real effect it was having on their lives. Then I was taken on a spiritual journey with Jake as he made the decision to be a Christian, no matter what the cost. The same kids who had picked on Roger were now picking on him because of his new beliefs, and yet he stayed with the course. He had to fight for his right to worship, even butting heads with his father, but he hung in there because he knew it was right. In the end, he postponed his own dreams to take care of his girlfriend during her pregnancy, and was by her side as she delivered and gave the baby up for adoption. I asked myself the question, "What does it mean to be a Christian?"

It's one thing to say you are a Christian. But what does it mean to be one? "Being" describes what you are. It's not a mask or a pretense. It's your essence. Being a Christian means that you have made the choice to act in a Christ-like way, regardless of the cost. Jake was a total mess at the beginning of the film, but he made a choice and took the actions necessary to back up that choice, and by the conclusion of the story, he had changed his entire life. It was a series of deliberate choices to do the right thing, not a series of accidents or coincidences that just happened to land him in the middle of a happy ending.

Personally, I take spirituality for granted a lot of the time. I grew up in a Christian family, and I've never had to live without it. I've just assumed it would always be there, and there are times when I don't seek out things that will make my testimony grow. Other times, I'm seeking it diligently, but my efforts are not as consistent as they could be. Watching Jake take deliberate steps to change his life was inspiring to me. He wasn't just waiting for everything to work out all right - he wanted to be part of the solution.

This film was rated PG-13 for scenes with drinking, cutting, and some sexuality, but while I found it a little gritty, I found none of it disturbing. This is a film I'm going to watch again, and it's a film I'm going to show each of my children as they hit the age of twelve. I want them to understand the consequences of bullying so they can know how to reach out to those around them who may feel like outcasts. I also want them to see positive media images of a teen who decided that he didn't want an ordinary life.

This movie will be released on August 3rd, and it's one I'll be recommending again and again.

I received a copy of this movie free in exchange for my review, but that did not influence my thoughts.

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Writing Wisdom–Mark Victor Hansen

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 19:24:46 +0000

I spend a great deal of time involved with writing. Sometimes as an author, others as a reader, occasionally as a teacher to adult writers, often as a teacher of student writers. You’d think I should already know everything there is about being a writer, but I still like to learn from others who have themselves had successful writing careers. Each year I attend writer’s conferences both as a speaker and as a student. Regularly I listen to conference calls or teleseminars about being a best-selling author. Because I know that one of the best ways to internalize the things we hear is to teach them to someone else, I thought I might use my Tuesday blogs to share some of the important lessons I’ve learned about writing and publishing with you, my readers. That way perhaps we can both benefit from thinking about the things I’ve heard. Hopefully, you’ll find something in these messages that sparks an idea that gets your career going, author or not, into a path of success you never dreamed about before. And as for me, I hope reviewing the things I’ve learned will add to my motivation to complete the hundreds of projects I have on my list of things to write. Here’s to a great start for all of us!

Today I’m going to write about the Wealthy Writer’s Seminar I listened to today by Mark Victor Hansen (Chicken Soup). Mark has written 305 bestsellers, many of which are multi-authored books. His books have regularly made the New York Times lists, taken him around the world, and given him voice in a variety of venues. I’ve read books co-authored by Mark before, but even with that previous experience, I learned some new things from him during this teleseminar.

Mark describes himself as a book addict. He can’t go into a bookstore without leaving the store with several new purchases. (Boy, do I understand that idea.) His favorite types of books to read are biographies where he can learn about the lives of other successful people. Among those people he most admires is his long-time friend and mentor Buckminster Fuller who once said, “A book is your baby and will outlive you.” Look at your own bookshelf. How many books do you find there that were written by authors who are dead? I guess we’d have to say he is right.

Mark tells us that we should set 101 goals, making a list of book titles we intend to write. We should astonish ourselves by writing too many titles, pre-selling them, then get busy and write. Books do not have to be long to be books, and with today’s electronic age, we should rethink the way we look at writing, promoting, and learn to market to the world instead of just our own backyard.

George Lucas once told him, “Don’t write anything that you can’t sequel or prequel.” When you think about it, Lucas has followed his own advice to the tune of millions of dollars, sometimes without writing a word of it himself. Every time another author uses his Star Wars or Indiana Jones characters in a book, comic, TV series episode, or feature film, Lucas makes money. Branding is the key to marketing success.

Another superstar of branding that Mark quotes is Oprah Winfrey. He tells the story that Oprah writes in her journal every day, not only to record what she is doing, but to express her feelings and to find out more about herself. In addition, Oprah reads two books a week, which gives her even more to write and talk about. The things she writes in her journal often become the basis for the “What I Know” column in her own O Magazine.

A magazine that is targeted to women–who Mark Victor Hansen says comprise 88% of the book and magazine buying audience. If you want to sell lots of books, that’s the audience you need to also target, but he emphasizes you’ve got to be original. A book is a business, and your purpose is to bring the audience to yourself and your book. He adds, “It takes no more effort to think high, grand thoughts in life than it does to think poverty, so why not set your goals high?”

You have a story to tell, and you are the only one who can create it. A lot of money is sitting out there with your name on it that just needs to be released to flow to you. He tells about comedian, songwriter, musician, author, and television personality Steve Allen who, despite his battle with dyslexia, wrote over 50 books and 14,000 songs. He never experienced what many term writer’s block because he always had around 28 projects in the works at any given time. His philosophy? “How can you have writer’s block on twenty-eight things at the same time? It’s impossible!”

As an author, Hansen says, “You are the wealth of the world. Successful people decide fast and change their minds slow.” Will you decide today to become an author? What changes will you take to catch up to the ever-changing fast-paced publishing world? I know where I’m headed, and I plan to world hard to make it there.

Will I see you at the top?

Lu Ann Brobst Staheli: Living in an Osmond World: Concerts, Vegas, and the Fraternal Order of Police

noreply@blogger.com (Lu Ann Brobst Staheli) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 19:21:55 +0000

Back in the 1980s, before I started working for Alan Osmond Productions, I was what my husband affectionately calls a “paparazzi stalker chick.” If there was an Osmond–or anyone famous for that matter–who would soon be flying in or out of the Salt Lake City airport, appearing in concert, or making a personal appearance anywhere between Idaho and Las Vegas and they were on my radar of someone I’d like to meet, I somehow managed to get there.

Usually I was a good girl and waited patiently in line for autographs, bought legitimate concert tickets, and stood around in public places, like airport terminals and hotel lobbies, until the target made his or her appearance. A few photos were snapped, an autograph collected, and a short conversation sometimes ensued before the next person got their turn with the celeb..

Oh, there were a few times when I was naughty–especially back in the day before airline security became so tight and anyone could call the airlines to confirm a reservation for another person. You didn’t think I was just lucky enough to bump into all those famous people at the airport by accident, did you?

But most of the time I followed the rules, only getting backstage or special privileges because a road manager, security guard, or the celebrity himself knew me well enough to get me tickets or backstage at events where I probably (okay, usually) didn’t belong.

When it came to meeting celebrities, backstage became my venue of choice, but front row seats came in a close second, and the Las Vegas Hilton was a place I knew well. Getting those tickets should be a cinch, but not all concerts are open to the public. Such was the case when it came to The Osmond Brothers, the Las Vegas Hilton, and the Fraternal Order of Police.

Undaunted, a few of us from Provo decided we wanted to see the show, so into the car we hopped and six hours later, we were in Vegas.

One of the things I’ve learned in life is if you act like you know where you’re going and what you’re doing, you can usually get where you want to be. That philosophy has earned me writing gigs, great deals, and the meeting of many a celebrity.

A private concert at the Hilton? No problem. And for the Fraternal Order of Police? What did I care? An open door, a quick trip to the front row, a couple minutes talking with a guard and we were in!

I remember Merrill being totally surprised to find us there, sitting on the front row during the show, surrounded by a roomful of cops. Alan, on the other hand, just shook his head, like he knew all along that we would be there.

And with a history like mine, why wouldn’t I be?

P.S. Does anyone remember for sure who went with me? I’m thinking Mary LeBeuf and maybe Elaine Swails, but it’s been so long I don’t remember for sure.

Annette Lyon: WNW: Where'd It Come From? Back-formation

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 15:56:00 +0000

One of my favorite quirks of English is how versatile it is in creating new words, and often without us even realizing it.

A common way of creating new words is essentially tweaking a current word in a process called back-formation.

With back-formation, the new word usually looks like it is the original one and that the other word or words came from it.

That idea make sense grammatically, because we tend to just slide into creating back-formations. The new word is typically shorter, because often a typical prefix or suffix was removed to create the word.

The first I heard of this concept was with the word EDIT. It wasn't the original word.

But wait: isn't that's what an EDITOR does?

Well, yes. That's what we call it today. But the person (EDITOR) was given the name, and what they do was later called editing.

English uses -OR and -ER endings to mean "one who" (a teacher teaches, a sweeper sweeps), so it's easy to take a noun that happens to have a similar ending and apply the rule we're used to.

Therefore an editor must . . . edit! EDIT is a back-formation of EDITOR.

Other examples that were surprising for me to stumble on:

Taking off the -ion suffix:

resurrect from resurrection.
aviate from aviation
conversate from conversation
evaluate from evaluation
absorb from absorption

Removing the -er, -ar, -or suffix to create a verb (as with edit/editor):

beg from beggar
buttle from butler
burgle from burglar
curate from curator
commentate from commentator
swindle from swindler
tweeze from tweezers

Removing the -y suffix:

choreograph from choreography
haze from hazy
injure from injury
jell from jelly
sulk from sulky

Taking off a prefix like un-:

kempt from unkempt

One from a nursery rhyme:

pea from pease (Remember the old rhyme: "Pease porridge hot. Pease porridge cold." Pease was singular.)

And my two favorites:

mentee from mentor
enthuse from enthusiasm

Sometimes we use back-formations as jokes, like how (see Wikipedia) comedian Bill Bryson reportedly suggested that we should call someone who has tidy hair "sheveled" (as opposed to disheveled).

And in an episode of the sitcom Scrubs (a show I found brilliantly written from a Word Nerd standpoint), Turk tells Dr. Cox, "I don't disdain you! It's quite the opposite–I dain you."

FINAL REMINDER: Enter the anniversary giveaway! Spread the word for more entries. Try your hand and the easy-peasy trivia questions. And/or write a little anecdote. Winners will be announced FRIDAY.

Annette Lyon: Distance for Davis

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 22:18:00 +0000

If you're in northern Utah in just over a week (Friday, Aug 6 and Saturday, Aug 7), be sure to check out all the events surrounding the fund raiser for Davis Cox, a young man about the age of my own son who is suffering from a severe case of aplastic anemia . . . a very dangerous illness.

There will be lots of fun, from a 5K (okay, to ME running isn't so fun) to motorcycle stunts, hot air balloon rides, entertainment, and more.

Below is information from the press release about it.

Visit Davis's website (link below) for more information about him and the fundraiser:

Davis County Community Hosts Fundraiser for Local Teen with Aplastic Anemia

“Distance for Davis Cox” Fundraiser Includes

Utah Blaze and Miller Motor Sports Park

Rare Disease Affects Three in One Million U.S. Residents Each Year

WHAT: “Distance for Davis” Fundraiser for 14-year-old aplastic anemia patient, Davis Cox.

Event includes a Utah Blaze Football Clinic, Nitro Circus Movie Premier, motorcycle stunts by DJ Osborn, a silent auction and raffle, a 5K Fun Run, hot air balloon rides, a blood drive, food, games and entertainment.

WHO:

Utah Blaze, DJ Osborn, local companies, friends, family and classmates rally to raise money and support local teen Davis Cox.

WHEN: Aug. 6 from 7 p.m. -11 p.m.

Aug. 7 from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m.

WHERE: Davis High School, Kaysville, Utah

WHY:

In March 2010, Davis, a 14-year-old Kaysville Junior High School Student, contracted a random virus that damaged his bone marrow, which resulted in severe aplastic anemia. Once, a healthy football and baseball player, Davis now experiences life-threatening symptoms ranging from retinal bleeding, two-hour nose and gum bleeds, fevers, severe bacterial infections, and a depleted immune system.

MORE ABOUT APLASIC ANEMIA:

Affecting only three in one million Americans each year, aplastic anemia is a disease of the bone marrow, where the marrow stops making enough red blood cells, white blood cells and platelets for the body. People like Davis, with severe or very severe aplastic anemia, are at risk for life-threatening infections or bleeding. Treatment includes bone marrow or cord blood transplant and immunosuppressive therapy.

If you can't attend, you can always donate at the "Distance for Davis" website: www.daviscoxfundraiser.com.

Reminder: Entries for the story part of my blog-anniversary giveaway are due TOMORROW, Wednesday, July 28th. All giveaway winners will be announced this Friday, July 30th.

Writing on the Wall: Best and Worst Advice

noreply@blogger.com (Julie Wright) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 10:39:32 +0000

By Julie Wright

We used to play a game at my house called Best Part of the Day (I know. We're brilliant with titles, aren't we?). It was where everyone went around the table and shared the best part of their day. Sometimes, the kids would share the worst part of their days too. It was a way we learned a little about each other. We also learned a lot about the world around us because it usually inspired conversations that required explanation.

At a recent conference I spoke at, I was also on a panel with several other authors and one of the attendees asked, "What is the best advice you've ever received as an author?"

It was surprising what the responses were from each of the authors on the panel. Much like my children, the best meant something entirely different for each unique person.

For me, the best writing advice ever given in my life came from a small meeting after class with my seventh grade English teacher. The advice actually came from myself, but Mrs. Brown had fished around for it until it came out. I was entering a contest and showing her my entry. She asked me, "What will you do if you don't win?"

It had never occurred to me that I wouldn't win. OF COURSE I would win because I was brilliant. But I stood there shifting from foot to foot and searching myself for the answer to that question. Finally I said, "I guess I'll keep writing."

She exhaled in relief and said, "Good girl. I was hoping you'd say that."

To keep writing no matter what was my best advice. To keep writing even when I took second place. To keep writing when I didn't place at all. To keep writing when I had nothing worthy to write about. To just keep writing.

The other authors had things like: Don't wait until you find time, because you never will. Don't get arrogant when you finally get published, because someone else will always be there, outselling you and outwriting you. Stop talking about it; just sit your butt in the chair and just get it done.

The question naturally led to another question, "What is the worst advice you've ever been given?"

The answers were again all different. For me, the worst advice came from a speaker at a conference. The speaker had started out arrogant and obnoxious and I partly wonder if everything he said grated on me because his attitude was so prickly, but he said something that felt untrue for me--though it might have been someone else's best advice . . . who knows.

He said, "Forget the audience. You're writing for yourself, and yourself alone. The audience means nothing to you"

Um, okay, unless you're trying to SELL to an audience. For me, his advice didn't work. I wrote to an audience--myself being part of that audience. All the humor, all the sentimental stuff, the age range . . . I target it to the audience I'm writing for. For me that works. It might not for someone else. Like I said, my worst advice might be someone else's best.

Other authors' bad advice consisted of: The NEVER and ALWAYS rules. They said to avoid people with absolutes in their advice.

Another was that beginning writers should start out writing poetry and short stories before they dare attempt a novel length work. Any advice that makes you feel bad about yourself or less worthy is bad advice.

Whenever we do anything in our lives, there are voices out in the crowd throwing in their opinions on how we should manage ourselves. Some are well meaning; others are resentful. Some are excited for our futures; others could not care less but like to have something to say anyway.

The point is to be careful who we listen to. Take the advice that works for you and let the rest go.

What's the best and worst advice you guys have received?

Janette Rallison: winner and next book give-away

noreply@blogger.com (Janette Rallison) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 10:37:51 +0000

Random.org--whom I am now on a first name basis with, so I've taken to calling him Randy for short--has chosen the winner. Vanessa, it's you, dear! The very last commenter. How's that for true randomness? So Vanessa, send me your address and I'll send you a signed ARC.

But the rest of you that Randy unintentionally snubbed still have a chance because my French translator, Erzsi Deak, has an interview with me on her site in honor of the French release of My Fair Godmother, called: Le Troisieme Voeu (The Third Wish)

So here's the deal, read the interview (Oh come on, I know you all want to read about my embarrassing algebra moment) and leave a comment on my blog about something you learned from the interview. I'll give away two more ARCs. Followers get double chances the next week when I sit down with Randy again.

Here's the link:

http://erzsideak.com/

Tristi Pinkston: Book Review: Chocolate Roses by Joan Sowards

TristiPie@comcast.net (Tristi Pinkston) — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 03:46:15 +0000

When I first learned that Joan Sowards had written an LDS romance novel based on the novel "Jane Eyre," I was immediately intrigued. I remember reading "Jane Eyre" when I was seventeen and had my wisdom teeth out. Swooning over the dark and brooding Mr. Rochester was the only thing that made my recovery bearable. And Timothy Dalton did a very good job in the movie, much better than Orson Welles did, and ... well, this review isn't about Timothy Dalton, so we'll save him for another day.

"Chocolate Roses" is the story of Janie Rose Whitaker, a young lady who has devoted her life to building the success of her chocolate shop. She thinks about romance and marriage, but those things just don't seem to be in her stars. But she certainly does look forward to the one day a week when Mr. Roger Wentworth comes in to buy a chocolate rose. Her heart starts to pound, her breath quickens ... well, can't really blame her, when he's as good-looking as he is.

When he moves in to the apartment next door, along with his cute little daughter, Janie has the chance to get to know him a little closer up. She likes what she sees, but his mood swings are off-putting, and when she learns his deep, dark secret, she suddenly understands why he acts the way he does.

I enjoyed this light-hearted parody. I did wish that the ending had been drawn out a little more and didn't conclude so quickly, but all in all, this is a nice summer read and I'm sure you'll find plenty of opportunities to sneak a handful of M & M's while reading it. It would be almost wrong not to ...

A Note from the Publisher:

Love chocolate? Then you're going to love this blog tour!

We have two great prizes up for grabs. Win either a copy of the book (2 winners) or this fabulous apron created by Joan!

All you have to do is leave a comment(along with your email address if it isn't on
your blog profile) and answer the following question.

What's your favorite type of chocolate: white, dark, or milk? The more blogs you comment on, the more entries you'll receive. All comments must be left by midnight MST on August 8 to be eligible.

Visit these blogs to enter:

July 26:
Nichole Giles--Random-ish by Nichole

Joyce DiPastena--JDP News

July 27:
Deanne Blackhurst--Annie Speaks Her Mind
Tristi Pinkston--*Tristi Pinkston, LDS Author

July 28:
Taffy Lovell--Taffy's Candy
Alison Palmer--Tangled Words and Dreams

July 29:
Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen--The Write Blocks
C.S. Bezas--For the Love of the Written Word

July 30:
Sheila Staley--Why Not? Because I Said So!
LDSWomen's Book Review

August 2:
Kerry Blair--Now & Here

Marsha Ward--Writer in the Pines

August 3:
Kaylee Baldwin--Kaylee Baldwin

Amy Orton--Amesbury Reads

August 4:
Anna del C.--Anna del C. Dye's Blog

Laurie Lewis--A View from the Other Side of the Hill

August 5:
Valerie Ipson--Of Writerly Things

Anna Arnett--Insights and Ramblings from Anna Arnett

August 6:
Lynn Parsons and Danyelle Ferguson--Queen of the Clan

Chocolate Roses can be purchased from Deseret Book, Amazon.com, and of course your local LDS bookstore.

I received my copy as a gift in exchange for this review. This did not influence my feelings toward the book.

Annette Lyon: Cunningham Flat Daddy

annette@annettelyon.com (Annette Lyon) — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 23:03:00 +0000

We're getting close to having enough to pay for The Lyon's Tale's FOURTH Flat Daddy for a military family going through a deployment. Woohooo!

(Not familiar with the Flat Daddy program? Visit THIS PAGE of my website or go to the Flat Daddy site.)

I'm THRILLED with the response from my readers who have donated. (You know who you are; thank you, thank you, thank you!!!) Every little bit helps.

The fourth Flat Daddy will go to the Cunningham Family. A little about them:

Mom and Dad Cunningham met at a single adult conference in July 1996. They were married five weeks later.

During the early years of their marriage, Daddy C was in college, and even with a growing family (of four boys!), he managed to graduate with honors with (YES!) a Bachelor's in English Literature and Writing.

His final semester, he joined the Army and left for basic training July of 2000. The following February, the family headed for their first duty station: Fort Bliss, TX.

The following years are a blur for them with two deployments, diapers, pre-schools, IEP meetings, OCS, and PCSs. (Acronyms that don't mean much for us civilians!) Daddy felt he was missing the boys growing up, so he decided to end his active duty Army career and find a civilian job. During that time, they got a surprise: their one and only daughter, born six years after their youngest son.

He maintained his military connection, though, and is now attached with the Montana National Guard. He's deploying to Iraq in a matter of weeks. (Hence the need for a Flat Daddy quick!)

This will be Daddy C's third deployment.

In Mommy C's words:

We are so proud of him and his desire to serve! He's such a good example to our kids, and to the kids in his Primary class. Because of his great love for the Gospel and the fine example he has set in our home, even though he will be leaving, we will not be without the priesthood: Our two oldest boys hold the priesthood and love to serve. I see their happiness and willingness to fulfill their responsibilities and know it's because their dad is the same way! :) The younger two boys are anxiously waiting for their time to serve in the priesthood too!

To donate to my Flat Daddy fund (and get the Cunninghams their Flat Daddy by the time Dad leaves!) use the DONATE button on my sidebar. We're getting close, so if we end up with extra funds (I hope!), they'll roll over to the next Flat Daddy Family.

Reminder: Enter my blog-anniversary giveaway for a chance to win prizes! The story entries are due on Wednesday (tick, tock!). The NINE winners from all three ways of entering will be announced Friday.

Writing on the Wall: Your Author Bio--from laundry list to creating an author brand

heather@hbmoore.com (Heather B. Moore) — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 11:23:03 +0000

by Heather Moore

Recently Annette Lyon and I attended the ULA Conference where we were guest speakers. I flipped through the syllabus and gasped when I saw my author bio. It told about me--but had nothing about my published books or anything that would qualify me to be a speaker. I thought--well, no one will come to my class.

I asked Annette why she thought they'd put that bio in there when I'd sent over my updated bio. She said, "They probably took it from your website."

She was right. As I looked at the bio, I realized that it was on my website. I guess I thought that someone visiting my website would see the books I've written, then for additional author information they'd read my bio.

When I returned home from the conference, I promptly changed the bio so that if someone needed to lift it from my website, it would go well with any conference syllabus.

Recently I read a post by bestselling thriller writer, Barry Eisler. He basically nails why your author bio should be something that attracts a reader to your book, not a dry laundry list of where you were born, where you live, and the number of children you have. Eisler calls is author branding--check out his great post HERE.

In revamping my author bio, I asked myself what information reflects my personality as well as what will motivate a new reader to buy my book?

Anyone want to share yours?

This is what I came up with:

Heather B. Moore is the award-winning author of several historical novels which are set in Ancient Arabia and Mesoamerica. She is not old and doesn’t remember the time period, so Google has become a great friend. Although she has spent several years living in the Middle East, she prefers to forget the smells. Heather writes under the pen name H.B. Moore so that men will buy her books. She is also the author of one non-fiction book, which took her much too long to research and write, so she is back to novel writing (when she isn’t clipping 2-for-1 coupons).