Looking For Readers

I am trying to get some feedback on the finished novel from 5-10 people, though I have to say that I doubt any of you are in the true target demographic. I'll give the rundown synopsis, then you can email or leave a message here if you are interested in seeing a copy.

The title is Snow White and Rose Red: A Tale of Two Sisters and is a retelling of a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale. The protagonists are in their late teens during most of the story events, and at its heart this story is a coming-of-age young adult novel. The elements of magic are not too heavy, but it is certainly a fantasy novel. I only used the original story as a springboard, trying to turn some of its more traditional (and downright strange) elements on their head.

If you volunteer to read then, as before, I will send you an electronic copy of the manuscript (as a PDF file this time, hopefully) and a few general guidelines for what I am looking for--things I have concerns about. Suggestions are awesome and welcome about any aspect of the novel on which you care to comment.

In the Middle of the Chaos . . .

I finished a 330 page draft.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

I am so excited.

This week has been nuts, and we are entirely over-committed (which includes tiling the kitchen and celebrating the ever-adorable Plantboy's birthday) but I just have to tell someone.

I am going to spend the next month doing my own edit. There are at least 50 pages that are very nearly a free write--unless you count all the writing I do in my head when I don't have time to sit. Anyway, I am going to do a comprehensive edit on my own.

Then a peer review (looking for takers).

Then I have a contact who can hook me up to get some actual feedback from an actual editor at an actual publishing company.

Actually, I'm feeling pretty good today.

My stories nearly always come to me first as dialogued scene between two characters. I flesh out ideas from there, but each project I've finished will come to me in bits and flashes, again usually with dialogue. I will write sections all over the place and then create bridges to join them all up. I finished my last bridge last night. These connections are the hardest for me and where my stories bog down; because they are the rising action bits in between the best stuff, they are also the hardest to get motivated to finish.

I can hardly begin to express how excited I am for this project. The idea came to me in the Fall of 2009, and I've pretty much abandoned all other projects (at least on paper) since. Fifteen months is actually a really good record for me. I have a fantasy novel that is one or two chapters shy of a completion (clocking in at around 400 pages) that I started in the year 2000. I keep wanting to revisit it, but I can't help shaking the feeling that it is actually part of a trilogy. The MIDDLE part of a trilogy. Who do I think I am, George Lucas?

Did I mention how excited I am for this project?

Did I mention how much the love and support you folks give me in this environment has helped to shape me as a writer the last few years? No? Well, if publishing is ever in the cards for me, at least one of my books (though not the first) is going to be dedicated to the Blogger community at Nomad. Your empathy and belief in my ability and almost daily source of encouragement has been invaluable. Thanks for sharing your journey with me.

Tonight's the Night the World Begins Again

So remember that one time I felt impressed to finish my Abish book with a great sense of urgency? And how I let other parts of my life get in the way, and I put off my project? And then six months ago they published the book they chose over mine? A few months after the first rejection I got this one from Deseret Book. And though DB didn't say anything specific about why they passed over my book, their new catalog contains this:


From a previously published author. Apparently my sense of urgency was not something imagined. I can't help but wonder what six or even three months difference would have done. I also can't help but wonder how mine compares, though I'm also fearful to find out. What if I read both and they are good-ish and I get so discouraged I can't write anymore? Maybe such feeling will be the reality check I need to just move on with my life. Or what if they are rotten and I feel bitter? Bitter is a very bad place to be.

(On a lighter note, speaking of other writers doing the same thing I am, but having a wider audience so they actually get read--try this. I'm probably biased, but I think my own parody stacks up pretty well. It might actually be worth reading Eclipse again just to chunk out another one of these.)

I'd like to say I'm working on something original, but my latest pet project with the most potential is a fairy tale retelling. It is true that the fairy tale is a bit obscure and I haven't ever seen this particular story re-told, but I have this nagging fear that when it is finally ready to send out there will be three of the same circulating out there in the black hole of books never published. If this sounds a bit like discouragement, well, that is because it is a LOT like discouragement. This too shall pass.

All of this rambling, believe it or not, is leading to something.

I've been thinking about 2010 resolutions. My thoughts in recent months have been much on personal revelation.* Several discussions here have led me in that direction as well as these three talks from the latest General Conference. There are some things right now that I am struggling with--questions for which my own experience and understanding and knowledge have not provided answers. I listened again to the talked titled "To Acquire Spiritual Guidance" again this morning, and the end of Elder Scott's talk really hits home to me. The italics are my own:

"Have patience as you are perfecting your ability to be led by the Spirit. By careful practice, through the application of correct principles, and by being sensitive to the feelings that come, you will gain spiritual guidance. . . as you pray with all the fervor of your soul with humility and gratitude, you can learn to be consistently guided by the Holy Spirit in all aspects of your life. I testify that you can personally learn to master the principles of being guided by the Spirit. . ."

I've lately begun to think that the greatest test of our lives, and perhaps the most important thing we can learn how to do, is to first LEARN and then secondly DO what the Lord would want us to do. Receiving revelation is a both a gift and a skill. It isn't just something that happens at random times without any work on our end. And like with any skill, practice makes you better. I have had times in my life when I have listened closely to the Lord's promptings and then acted on them. Sometimes the blessings for doing so have been immediate; sometimes those blessings take longer to come. But they always have come. I need to get better at both listening at at acting.

To that end, my 2010 goals are fewer in number than last year, and all relate to the BIG goal of fulfilling the plan the Lord has for my life.

1. I will get less hung up if my Martha tasks are unfinished and concentrate harder on the Mary tasks. (Luke 10:38-42) Oops, there goes my Etsy store.

2. I will re-establish the habit of meaningful prayer in my life.

3. I will record the spiritual impressions that I have.

4. I will continue my current course of scripture study, which has been wonderfully effective for me. (In the spring I bought an inexpensive set of scriptures that I have been cross-referencing to the conference talks and the footnotes. It is fascinating to see patterns emerge and passages of scripture that get continual emphasis.) I need to establish this fledgling habit more firmly so that it is a part of my life at least five days each week.

5. I will work harder to maintain harmony in my family relationships--particularly towards and between my kids.

6. I will attend the temple between six and 12 times this year. At least every other month, if not every month.

7. I will get more sleep--my greatest lifestyle barrier to making the others more successful.

I vowed to post contest winners here today, but this post is lengthy enough. Besides, I haven't determined a winner yet. I guess you'll have to come back again.

I've found that putting my resolutions on my blog is a really great way for me to be more diligent about them. While certainly nothing earth-shattering or unique, their nearly daily reminder on my side-bar helps to keep me honest with myself. Feel free to add your resolutions here, or to add your own thoughts on keeping the channels of communication with God open.

*It has come to my attention lately that there are some regular-ish readers here who don't share my religion. Aspects of my faith, perhaps, but our practice is different. A post such as this, with its deeply personal, spiritual outlook and terminology that may be unique to the LDS tradition can seem alienating. Today's discussion is about "personal revelation." This concept might also be termed insight, intuition, conscience or spiritual guidance. And yet, I think it is something beyond all of that. The first two on the list imply that you have some instinct that guides you a certain way based on your experience and personality. The idea of "conscience" is more about simple decisions between right and wrong--a moral compass that guides our actions. The last is closer to what I'm getting at here, provided that the spiritual guidance is coming from without, and not from within. The Mormon story, from its very beginning, is about the importance of reading, studying and learning, but then coming to a place where you ask God Himself to place knowledge in your mind and in your heart. This knowledge seldom comes in dramatic or miraculous ways (though it does), but is more likely to come quietly. For an excellent tutorial on LDS theology regarding this concept, please read this talk/sermon by Vicki Matsumori. She helps to facilitate programs world-wide for the children in our church under the age of 12; in this particular talk she speaks very clearly, concisely, and lovingly about the ways in which our Father in Heaven communicates with us.

Calling All Wannabe Editors

I have a new manuscript that I need some more eyes to look at. I am not going to post it on my other blog for a couple of reasons. Tabula Rasa didn't get the traffic or the feedback I had hoped for. Oh, several of you visited, and those of you who said anything about Abish: The Story of a Convert were very complimentary, thank you, but I think I was hoping for something else. Something constructive--a way to improve.

If you would like a copy of my new manuscript, here is what I'm looking for from this preliminary reader's circle:

1 - General feedback about what worked and didn't work, over all.
2 - Specific feedback about places in the novel that might be improved.
3 -I am not looking for someone to edit line by line, but if you find glaring mistakes, they should be brought to my attention.
4 - An honest opinion about the storytelling method and tone of the story.
5 - Title suggestions.

If you would be willing to do that without fear of hurting my feelings, (I really am getting tougher with this writing stuff) then here are a few specifics:

1 - I am only sending out the manuscript electronically. I don't have the software to create PDF files on my computer, so I would send it as a Word document. I would ask you very respectfully not to make changes to the actual manuscript, but instead to open a separate document (or written notes that could be scanned or typed later) to keep track of your comments, referencing pages or chapters.
2 - When you finish the manuscript and send me your feedback, I would ask you to delete my rough copy from your computer.

If you still manage to be interested after all of the above, then here are a few details about the novel itself so that you can decide if the material would even interest you:

1 - The epilogue of this story was written 12 years ago, so it is safe to say that I have given it a whole lot of thought. The chapters are told from shifting viewpoints; the whole story is only put together near the end. It mostly flows chronologically, but not entirely.
2 - It is essentially an LDS romance novel. I try to remind myself that such designation is a category and not a put-down, but it is hard to remember sometimes. If I seek publication for the story it will be through LDS publishers only. Thematically, I would have to really dismember it to make it appeal to a broader audience. I don't think you necessarily need to be a member of the LDS church to appreciate it, but a knowledge of LDS culture and standards would probably be helpful. The book assumes you already have some background.
3- It is hard for me to define exactly who the audience is. The main characters, through most of the story, are in their early twenties. Most of their coming of age stuff takes place as background information.
4 - The novel is actually quite entertaining. The Word document is 230 pages or so, but TamathyC finished it in mostly one sitting. Taking notes as you go will make your reading a bit more time consuming, but I'd like to think you will be compensated for your time.

Whew. If you have made it this far and want to sign up for a copy then leave a comment. If I don't already have your email address, then leave it in the comments section or e-mail it directly to me at scienceteachermommy (at) hotmail (dot) com. Best case scenario would be between five and ten readers, but having no idea what kind of response an exercise like this will gain I don't want to either have a threshold number or limit any interested parties.

Validation

Book group started badly.

I was a few minutes late myself, and when I got to our hostess' house, there was only one other guest, and the hostess was on the phone. I could tell from the conversation that three of our regulars were unable to come. Including the sister who was going to lead our discussion. And the person she had called to replace herself.

I sat on the couch feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute. You know in novels how they talk about people rearranging their features in order to mask their true emotions? I felt this sensation more acutely than I have in years. Relieved to not have to be the center of attention? Embarrassed that nobody was coming? Foolish for having thought this could be a good idea? Selfish for all the other things people scheduled in front of my agenda? You get the picture. Hardly a feeling passed through my brain in ten very uncomfortable minutes that was appropriate to express.

Four more trickled in--two who had read it; two who stopped coming to book group early last year because of serious criticism over book picks and the resulting discussions, and had not read the manuscript.

The study questions that the moderator and I had worked on together, and which she was going to present, were stored safely at home on my hard drive and I stared rather stupidly at MY book that I haven't read in its entirety for months. Rational thoughts flew out the window and I shared a little bit about the process of writing this story and the literal years and tears and hundreds of hours that went into it.

But I was also quick to acknowledge many sisters in the room with amazing talents, saying that any great skill that is worth showing off is often the result of much more than talent, some of it is just vast amounts of time and practice. I also wanted to help the sisters understand that this project is essentially a conversion story, and that each of us, just by being in that cozy living room last night had a conversion story that was worth telling. Like Alma tells Abish at the end of my story,

"The visit from that angel was seen by many as a miracle. But to me, the real miracle is what took place in my soul in the days that followed. I know God can snatch a man from the very jaws of Hell and redeem him if he will but decide to follow. The real story of the gospel is not a record of how many thousand men uttered Lamoni’s covenant and buried their weapons; it is one man who loves God so much he would risk all he has in faith to never again disobey the commandments."

While it is exciting and wonderful to think about the growth of the Church into so many countries and how far the Church has come since its origins, I think the real power of the gospel is in the lives of individuals and in the testimonies of its members.

I paraphrased the above and sort of ended with my words hanging. One sister in our group whom I will love forever and ever if only for the following comment, "I loved this book. It got right to the heart of how simple the gospel is. It made me want to live it better."

The tears that smarted this time were not the stupid self-pitying ones that started the evening, this time I felt so joyful. All of the time and effort and work that went into the novel was worth it for that alone. Maybe I DO have something to say that might help somebody else. For those many, many of you out there who have ever encouraged me in this frustrating journey, please know how much your lovely friendships have meant to me.

I don't know, and probably doubt, that my novel will ever be published, at least for some great number of years. Cedar Fort published this in April. Remembering my rejection letter from them almost 18 months ago made such a discovery bittersweet. But do I have the courage to find out that my very best effort rated a mere 3.83 out of five stars? And only got SIX reviews? Amazon's reviews were a little better--but there are only THREE reviews there. Friends of the author. I don't know about the picture they chose. I think Abish is too pretty, and she is wearing enough make up to make RuPaul blush.

But I do know this: writing Abish was worth every minute. It was worth it for the testimony I gained of the reality of the Book of Mormon. It was worth it for the boost and revitalization this story has given a few others. It was worth it if only to know that I could see something through to completion. As awesome as publishing would be, I think there are few things that could compare to the sweetness of the Spirit I felt in our book group last night when we talked about the beautiful simplicity of the gospel when so much church culture is stripped away and we ask ourselves what it really means to be born again.

Unsure How To Feel

Those of you who have kept up with my other blog must be saints. And the 1.6 of you who have actually done that know who you are. For those of you who don't have a clue what I'm blathering on about, I'll back up.

Late last summer I got my (last) rejection letter for my Abish novel. The turn-around time from Deseret Book was fast enough that I have my doubts as to whether or not it was read. Cedar Fort actually spent a moment considering it a year ago, but nothing came of it. Abish's first rejection came from Covenant. (Which still frustrates me: my current draft is so much better there is no competition.)

Poor little novel. Not a very auspicious start.

Still, I felt like there was a message in the story that I wanted to share and have spent the last several months publishing it to my other blog. It was not supposed to be this way. I was supposed to do a "final" edit and then publish a chapter every few days with the whole project taking about six to eight weeks. That was six to eight MONTHS ago. And yes, I know it is very likely the most shockingly awful way to read a novel. I won't be trying that again. Anyway, the edit is done now, so you can look for the last two chapters in the next week. Really.

The reason I am bringing all of this up is that during this recent edit, I e-mailed a copy to one of my book group friends here in town. She is a sister in my ward that I trust enormously and relate to really well. She loves to read for meaning, but also enjoys a good story. I knew I could count on her to be honest.

What I did not expect is that within the week she would email AND call me with praise beyond anything I had anticipated and asked if she could "sell" the book at this year's book club organization meeting. (Each May we meet for a potluck dinner. Each person in the group gets to try and convince us to read her two or three selections in 30 seconds or less, per book. Then we vote.) I was in a mild state of shock when she asked, but I agreed.

Within a few weeks of this, two things happened: my letter was published in TNY and Tamathy read a story re-telling I had written for Enrichment night. The letter was a little thing, a very little thrown together thing, but seeing my name in print was such a thrill. A few people actually sought me out on Facebook to make further comments about my letter. That was also weird, but kind of wonderful in its way. The very idea that I might write something that would move a complete stranger to seek me out to say, "Yes! Thank you for validating/describing my feelings." (No, you Blogger girls I've never met don't count the same way. You all feel like friends!)

But it was Tamathy's recitation of my Johnny Lingo re-telling that really gave me the publishing bug. I spent some time rewriting the Legend of Johnny Lingo for our ward's Eight Cow Enrichment night. I put it together in a fairly specific way because I was trying to bring out some salient points without making it beyond-awful-cheezy, but I told Tamathy (who is an excellent orator and actress) that if it was clumsy, awkward, bad, whatever, to make it her own. Well, Tamathy liked it. So much in fact that she narrated my story word for word. The sisters in the room were either bored into submission or transfixed by both Tamathy's excellent reading and by the story itself. I glanced around the room, with an awesome feeling inside at the emotions I saw playing across each face. MY WORDS had done that. Maybe, just maybe, I might have other words that could do the same.

Well, three weeks ago, every sister in the room voted for my book at the book sell. We are reading it in September. As there are only two printed and bound copies (the current "list price" is about $20, which barely covers printing and binding), I had to get it ready this month, so that it can be passed along to everyone who wants to read it. The first sister who picked it up from me (along with two other books) on Wednesday, cornered me at church today with the most excited expression on her face. "I'm dying to talk about it. Can I pass it on to others who aren't in our group? Sister W. and I were at the temple yesterday and I wanted to just tell her all about it." I nodded numbly, "Of course, pass it on; there is no reason not to."

There is no reason not to. Just that I had hoped to publish it. Just that I had hoped to sell it, even for a pittance. Just that it represents thousands of hours of writing I'll never be paid for. Just that it represents thousands of hours of my life that I'll never get back, though I'm not sure I'd want it back either.

This is where I'm unsure how to feel. The current edit is good, maybe very good, and when you have the whole thing in hand (not all chopped up in sections like on the blog), it reads like an exciting and touching novel. The characters are compelling and human. Everyone who has gotten hold of this current version says the same thing, "This was so great. I just couldn't put it down. I can hardly wait to talk about it." Am I happy about this? Oh, yes. So happy. If this story manages to touch lives in some way and uplifts and teaches and brings unity, well, how can I be anything but happy?

And yet, after my brief conversation with Sister S today, I walked back into the chapel to gather my kids' coloring books, crayons, and quiet books they had noisily spread all over the floor and felt tears prick in my eyes and lump in my throat. And they didn't feel like those happy tears you get when you feel warm and fuzzy inside. The emotion surprised me with its depth and sharpness. Did my quick, "Sure, pass it along!" mean that I was admitting that it will never be read in another form? I held my head back to take in a larger gulp of oxygen and clear the suddenly hazy eyes.

The feeling I had was exactly like when my drama coach looked at me with her large, tender, brown eyes after my third call back for my senior musical--Seven Brides for Seven brothers--and said with so much love, "If it had just been eight brides for eight brothers . . . . I tried and tried, but I've just been outvoted." Six years of drama, ballet, piano and even choir to be cast as one of the bride's mothers with a single line, "It sounds like Pansy has the croup." They gave me a part that effectively kept me out of all the dancing and the singing. Technically, I was higher up in the program because I had a "part," but I was isolated from nearly everyone in the entire cast because of that role. The boy with whom I was completely in love was cast as Gideon. (For you non-aficionadas out there--the "G" brother is #7.) He fell head over heels for bride #7 and, being the perfect best friend that I was to him, I was gifted to hear all about it. But I digress . . . .

Noveling. I spent a lot of years being almost good enough; the musical-thing was the icing on a very icky cake. Just when I thought I'd put so much of that behind me, I decided that what I really want to do with my life is to make up and retell stories and then send them out into the world so that I can know EXACTLY what people think of what I have to say.

Scary.

I'm not sure how this book group thing is going to go. I've already told the sister who "sold" it that I think she should lead the discussion: I'm happy to give background information and the occasional insight, but mostly I want to know how it is perceived by others. Or not.

Hey, It's Something, Right?

In January, The New Yorker published this piece, titled "Baby Food." It is about breast milk; or, more specifically, the history of breast feeding in the United States. The article is interesting, but near the end she makes a rather pointed critique of our culture too: many places have begun providing almost lavish amenities for working mothers who wish to pump at work, while simultaneously making it more and more difficult for them to actually be HOME with their babies. Her criticism is not levied merely at employeers, however. She is equally dazed and confused by mothers who will take an extra hour's worth of breaks to pump rather than formula feed and spend an extra hour with their babies. She laments, "When did women's rights turn into the right to work?" I couldn't agree more.

I really like this author. Her way of viewing the world is honest and blunt, but with the barest whisper of humor that makes you realize that she doesn't take herself to seriously. Her last few paragraphs read thus,

"Pumps put milk into bottles, even though many of breast-feeding’s benefits to the baby, and all of its social and emotional benefits, come not from the liquid itself but from the smiling and cuddling (stuff that people who aren’t breast-feeding can give babies, too). Breast-feeding involves cradling your baby; pumping involves cupping plastic shields on your breasts and watching your nipples squirt milk down a tube. But this truth isn’t just rarely overstated; it’s rarely stated at all. In 2004, when Playtex débuted a breast pump called the Embrace, no one bothered to point out that something you plug into a wall socket is a far cry from a whisper and a kiss. . .

"It appears no longer within the realm of the imaginable that, instead of running water and a stack of magazines, 'breastfeeding-friendly' could mean making it possible for women and their babies to be together. Some lactation rooms even make a point of banning infants and toddlers, lest mothers smuggle them in for a quick nip. At the University of Minnesota, staff with keys can pump their milk at the Expression Connection, but the sign on the door warns: 'This room is not intended for mothers who need a space to nurse their babies.'

"Pumps can be handy; they’re also a handy way to avoid privately agonizing and publicly unpalatable questions: is it the mother, or her milk, that matters more to the baby? Gadgets are one of the few ways to “promote breast-feeding” while avoiding harder—and divisive and more stubborn—social and economic issues. Is milk medicine? Is suckling love? . . . Medela’s newest model promises [that it]. . . 'works less like a pump and more like a baby.' More like a baby? Holy cow."

After reading her excellent piece, I wrote the following letter to TNY's editor:

Ms. Lepore's article is a fantastic voice of reason in a baby culture gone mad, and will no doubt be raked across the coals if for nothing else than her statement, "When did 'women's rights' turn into the 'right to work'?" I had my first of three babies just over seven years ago. I have worked full time, part time and also stayed home full time. I have nursed, pumped, formula fed, counted days until I could supplement my ravenous boys with mush and told countless lies to pediatricians from Houston to Eugene. I have friends who home school, nurse their children on demand day and night into their third year and think bottles are akin to child abuse; at the opposite end I have friends who would never consider nursing, feel repulsed by the whole exercise and think there is nothing more appalling than a woman nursing in public; not to mention all the women in the middle. And, truthfully, I think that every one of us is just doing the best we can. No modern convenience can ever change the simple fact that parenting is just plain hard (punctuated, of course, by moments of wonderful).

I am young enough that the battle over ERA is a distant echo from my childhood, yet am in the first generation of women to live an entire lifetime in the post-feminist era. To me, the great gift of feminism is that I can choose the kind of life I want to live. It does not mean that because I can have it all that I am less of a woman if I do not want to have it all. It also does not mean that I am free from the consequences of my choices, nor is society at large. In not too many more years, an entire generation of children raised on a steady diet of text messaging, video games, day care and fast food will come of age: I am with Lepore in asserting that all the breast milk in the world, pumped or otherwise, cannot counteract the effects of all else they have been fed.

Sincerely,
Science Teacher Mommy
Oregon

Well, well, STM, that is all very nice, you are thinking. I've written letters to the editor before and they never get published, so I was mostly hoping that Ms. Lepore would see my response. I'm just needy enough to think that all writers are just like me--they MUST have feedback or feel like failures. Then, today, I opened my email to find out that they are actually going to publish my letter in next week's issue. A fact-checker is going to call me tomorrow to confirm a few details.

I know, I know, I could get published in the flippin' newspaper every week if I wanted to, but the letters generally published in TNY come from professionals in their fields with 12 letters after their names and titles before them. To even see my name in print in this magazine pretty much makes my whole day. Or maybe my week.

Flipping. Deseret. Book.

It is pretty much no secret that these folks are not going to be making my favorites list anytime soon, but recent events take the cake.

I live nearly two hours from the nearest Deseret Book. (Yes, Mom, you'd refer to this as "the mission field.") For one of our crafty-day projects, in October, if you recall, we made these photo album Sacrament quiet books. I wrote a little doctrinal thing about the sacrament, simplified for young kids, to match the pictures in Greg Olsen's small picture kit called "Images of the Savior." You put the words and pictures mounted into a photo album. The result is quite sweet. These cost about $8 each to make and several sisters signed up for multiples in order to give them to grandkids for Christmas.

Eighteen kits ended up being ordered. As soon as I had the money, two weeks before the Souper Saturday, I got on-line and ordered what I wanted. I put the money in my account and then I waited. And waited. And waited.

The day before I needed them, I called Deseret Book. Sorry, they are on backorder. Hmm . . . and you didn't let me know this over my email because? I mean, isn't that the POINT of having such technology? Not to worry, they assured me, they will be here in mid-November.

I passed on that information and when I had nothing by the 20th of November, and also realized they had never charged my card to begin with, I called again. Sorry they are on backorder. Again? Do you ever tell people anything? Well, she said sweetly (she is probably somebody's grandmother), I can tell you that our next shipment will be here December 14th and that we will FedEx them to you right away. OoooKaaaaaaaay. Oh, and you have until the 4th to cancel the order if you need to.

I spent a good chunk of the rest of that day calling the women who had signed up for the project to find out if they wanted me to cancel their orders and they could just get them at DB next time they were there? I could refund money? You know the drill. It was a huge headache.

Then, Saturday, I went to the temple with a friend who was getting her endowment. It was a lovely day, if a bit hectic. (Plantboy and I went together and left the kids for a few hours with a friend that moved there from our ward. It turned out to be an 8 hour round trip. And while it seems really sacrificial and righteous for the temple to be such an effort, I mostly just grumble and wish it was closer.) On a whim, we found the Deseret Book and hunted all over for the pictures.

I think the pictures are on backorder because the Portland Store is hoarding at least 250 of these things.

Very cleverly, I put 18 of these babies on my credit card. Plantboy, acting as the voice of reason for a change, said, "are you sure you can cancel the other?" Oh, yes, I assured him, I have until the fourth. But this is perfect. Everyone will now get them well in time for Christmas and I don't have to deal with it any more.

Sunday I took an hour and half to deliver them. Why so long? At every stop I was asked to do something. Each request was prefaced with, "I'm so glad you dropped by! I've been meaning to call you . . . " Monday I crashed big time. Don't even ask me how many hours I read or what kind of cheesy re-read romance novels I had my nose stuck into. (Okay, one of my selections was Twilight; and no, my opinion has NOT changed.)

Yesterday morning, I opened my e-mail to find the following cheery message from Deseret Book, "You're order: qty 18 "Images of the Savior" has been shipped!"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How is the h*** is November 25th the equivalent of December 15??? By what stretch of the imagination is "you have until December 4th to cancel" the equivalent of them sending the cards Sunday night? When I called, the grandmotherly voice on the other end apologized about 400 times, all the while repeatedly telling me that there is no way that a representative from Deseret Book would have given me an exact shipping date and then gave me a crash course in the logistics of DB's ordering structure. She also emphasized how unreliable ordering over the Internet was and that they would be happy to take a phone order any time. Thanks for that. She did, however, graciously offer to send me a return slip. Here is how this will play: I get the order; I wait for the return labels; I repackage the order so that it doesn't say "FedEx" anymore; I drag my pre-schooler and toddler to the post office to mail the thing; I wait for the order to clear through DB and THEN I get refunded. Oh, yeah, my checking account SO needed the $80 hit four weeks before Christmas.

I must go bake. It will help to ease some of my anger at the universe. On the upside, I caught Tiny Fey as a pirate on Sesame Street this morning. She said that they needed to come up with some words that began with a pirate's favorite letter.

Yes, Yes, I thought it was "RRRRRRRRRRR" too.

But no, Tina argues, pirates love F-words. Well, that seems appropriate too.

Gratitude. Gratitude. Must remember to be grateful . . . .

Late Breaking Dawn News

Late because anybody who REALLY cares has already read and/or reviewed it.


I finished it yesterday. And, just like the previous three, I finished it in roughly two days. In other words, even the volumes I haven't been crazy about, I just can't put down.


My first general impression was that, of the four, this one was the best written. I really liked the Jacob chapters, particularly since Bella was in her own personal hell during that portion of the book. I especially liked Jacob's chapter titles. Very snarky. I also like how she resolved the Jacob-Edward-Bella love triangle. I think I saw it coming as well, despite Meyer's best efforts to divert her readers with Jacob getting closer to Leah and Bella's visions of a boy baby. Her description of how Jacob felt about the baby as he imprinted was quite tender. Another great descriptive moment was the birth. I felt completely sick afterward and had that iron-metallic blood taste in my mouth. Very vivid: it made regular childbirth seem like a piece of cake. The third portion of writing really worth mentioning, in my mind, was Bella's transformation, particularly that first day. I've never really thought about what a resurrected body might feel like, but Meyer's descriptions make that perfect, immortal body sound wonderful. I mean, other than the burning thirst for human blood.


I really liked that there was a specific purpose for making Bella a vampire. Even at the end of the third book, I couldn't believe it was actually going to happen. I was still holding out for Edward to become human--even he says at the first of this last volume that he wishes there was a way for that very outcome. She'd made up so many other myths I thought this would work too. The whole baby-thing was a nice twist and she redeemed Bella's annoying attitude toward marriage and motherhood very well. I thought the other books really bagged on both pretty thoroughly.


Bella's instantaneous bond to her child was a lot like how I felt after having #2. I could see that, as much as she loved Edward, much of her focus re-aligned the baby's welfare. I thought that the baby's gift was particularly sweet. How often have your own children touched your face in that tender way before they could talk as a way of communicating with you? What pictures would they show us if they could? Cool stuff.


I was pleasantly surprised with how well she handled the whole sex thing. She slightly backed off from physical details (I think the word "marble" was only mentioned a few times) She gave just enough for it to be definitely a romance novel, but not enough to be totally tacky or disgusting. Maybe the physical-ness of their relationship simply bothered me less because they were actually married? Still, I have to stand by the fact that I wouldn't want my teenage daughter reading these unless she was closer to Bella's age than middle school.


With all that I liked, however, I did not like the end. As usual, Meyer spends way too much time in conversation. (Don't even get me started on the shmoopy I-love-you-more war right after their first night of wedded bruising, I mean bliss.) She builds some really great suspense for the big vamp war and then. . . . nothing. By avoiding the war she acutally left a lot of characters around for another book even though she says that she is done. Everything got sewn up a little bit too neatly for my taste. Bella's life turned out, in the end, absolutely perfect. Nobody that she ever loved even got a scratch, or I guess a nibble in this case. Enemies vanquished. A perfect, beautiful and gifted child that she never has to diaper, rock half the night, bribe to behave or watch melt down at Target during lunch time. Money, gobs and gobs of money coupled with an adoring husband who never has to work. The most gorgeous husband and generous lover a woman ever was blessed with. Latent magic powers that can bless anyone she cares to help. A best friend who didn't rip her lovely throat out even though she was cruel beyond cruel to him. Perfect, never-ending beauty . . . .


Let's just say that as each book progressed, particularly this one, I had more and more trouble identifying with Bella. She is, well, a goddess and Meyer's readers are well, mortals. Except for Meyer herself whose best-selling writing has now made her immortal.


Any suggestions about the meaning of the book jacket? I found pictures of two alternatives as well:



I started posting my not-best-selling writing today.

In Short, You Are Just Not Enough

I love Kohl's. I discovered it in Texas when it opened on 249. The rule at Kohl's, however, is don't-even-think-about-it-unless-it-is-at-least-50%-off. And better yet, hold out until they put it on clearance in just a few weeks. Besides having a lot of season ending sales right now, they were kind enough to send me a 30% everything coupon this week.



Of course I went to just buy sheets (in response to Plantboy's comment, "these sheets are really rough; they are what? Nine years old?"). But then there was also this adorable outfit for my baby who wears something that is not a hand me down about one day in never. And then I found some really fabulous "skimmers." Dark blue, stretch denim, no gap waist, my size and a petite. With my coupon they would be about $7. Perfect.



Until I tried them on. I think the idea of the skimmer is that it skims the top of the knee? The following research backs me up:

My skimmers, on the other hand, are actually kissing the tops of my calves. Still cute, only I look even shorter than my womanly 5'2" when I'm sporting them. Remember, they are already a petite. I guess is makes sense that my skimmers are more like capris: Most of my capri pants fit like floods. If I was insane enough to buy skinny jeans they would look like tights. In fact, looking at that last picture again, I think I'm only about three inches taller than that woman's legs with her stiletto sandals in the mix.


To add insult to injury, I found a too-skinny letter from Deseret Book in my mailbox when I got home. I'll spare the details of the form letter here: my last rejection was better. And worse at the same time. Stay tuned over the next couple of weeks. I am working on a second blog that will be for fiction only. I think that after I've posted the chapters of my rejected novel, I may open it up to multiple writers and do more of a fiction/personal essay type of writer's workshop. Hope springs eternal.

Public Face Private Face

Two weeks ago at our ward's playgroup I got to talking with a fantastic sister whom I'm calling Erma until she actually decides to begin a blog and come up with a more descriptive blognym. Erma has four sons, is in her mid-late thirties, owns a dog, homeschools, dabbles in a bit of writing . . . oh, and she is the oldest of 21 children.

21 children.

No twins. Same mother. Same father. Really.

The writing that she mostly does is personal essay, though she enjoys performing--doing monologues and such. Erma even had a spot on a local radio show back east a few years ago. Anyway, we were talking about a big writer's conference she attended in Portland just a few weeks ago. She and hubby left the four kidlets with her in-laws and off they went. Ostensibly together, though she admitted that she spent much of her time attending workshops as well as talking to editors and publishers; she received some very positive feedback.

All of the publishing houses were asking their writers if they had a "presence on the web." Erma and I then began talking at length about blogging. Why people do it, if the writing is really all that great, what its role is in the life of somebody who really hopes to write professionally, etc. It seems that the publishers are mainly interested in finding out if you already have an audience for whatever you are doing: a ready-made fan base willing to pony up the cash for something you've written.

It was an interesting conversation. We also talked at length about whether a person's blog persona, particularly if they are working to stay anonymous, is really true to their actual self. It is interesting how you will say things on a blog that you might not actually say in person. For example, some of you here are just casual or occasional observers, yet you might end up knowing way more than you wanted to. I said to Erma that blogging, particularly with strangers, no matter how interesting or wonderful they seem or how many commonalities exist, is a bit, well, voyeuristic. How long can we be entertained with the daily minutiae of other people's lives? When will actual conversation be re-enthroned as a way to become acquainted with people? With everyone able to publish, it seems that people have ceased to edit entirely what they say or write. The reigning attitude seems to be that if a thought occurs to you, then you should absolutely say it! Stream-of-consciousness has reached a whole new level of annoying thanks to the magic of the Internet.

And then I think of the fantastic women I have met doing this (or at least have become better acquainted with). Here is a sampling of you, who never seem to be false, and show in your every post your real thoughts and personalities:

* BelCantoMom and her never-wavering faith
* Caitlin's treatment of life-altering trials as part of every day existence and not complaining a whit about them
* Calm Rapids and her cheery way of approaching a life busier than any I've every imagined
* Christie and her oh-so-clever writing and dogged determinism to whatever attribute needs improvement
* Desmama and her succinct way of sharing exactly what is on her mind, editing herself as carefully as she edits everyone else
* Dickey whose amazing pictures share stories that she doesn't have the words for
* Doreen and her commitment to the things she feels the strongest about
* Foxy J and her quiet reflections that force a mirror in front of my face, causing me to think twice before I make my own judgments about things
* GirlyMomma for the girl-power and kid-love that is a plastered boldly into every post
* Janssen and the way she gleans meaning out of everyday experiences
* KimBlue's quiet dignity, moderate opinions, and carefully reasoned posts
* Miss Nemesis and the snarkiness that has made more than one rainy day turn out hilarious
* Slim and her commitment to her kids and their hobbies as well as her own
* Elastic Waist Band Lady and the laughs she always brings to the table and her highly unusual way of viewing normalish things
*LaJuana and her mellow demeanor about the many trials chasing her down
* Yankee Girl and her love of the best things in life (free or otherwise)

Again, just a sampling. I've learned a lot here in the last two years. (My blog turned 2 on the 15th of this month.) For every five or ten posts, I think I write ONE really good one: a post that makes me think, "Yes! This is EXACTLY what I wanted to say!" This forum has helped to moderate and refine my thinking. It has helped me to take a hard look inside when I am wrong. It has taken some of the frustration out of not publishing. This writing format is easier most days than committing to my novel writing. Mostly, I'm continually amazed at the talents and trials I learn about among those women I count as friends. I'm blessed to share a part of your success and to feel a sense of solidarity with your failures.

Thanks for being a part of my journey.

Batting 0 for 2

This e-mail came from Cedar Fort today. The worst part about it? I've felt strongly compelled for months to get this manuscript looked at. I had my current and very best re-write ready in late April and hung on to it for three weeks before submitting it, trying to find time to get to the post office. Would it have made a difference? I'll never know. I'm just trying to find a lesson to learn in all of this that doesn't involve giving up my dearest ambitions.

"Thank you for submitting your work, Abish: The Story of A Convert. After careful consideration, we have decided not to publish your manuscript at this time. Please be aware that we offer to publish less than ten percent of the manuscripts we review. It just so happened that we received another manuscript about the story of Abish the same week that we received yours; both were extremely well written. Unfortunately we had to choose one over the other knowing it wouldn't be profitable to publish two novels about the same person. Although we did not offer to publish your manuscript, we strongly encourage you in your endeavors to get it published. "

Meh.

Trashy?

Christie made an interesting comment on my last post about how some of the people in her RS reading group found Austenland a little bit trashy. It was interesting to me because I had a very similar conversation with a friend this morning.


As an aspriring novelist who is first and foremost and LDS person, sex is a very tricky issue. If you are not going to treat it at all, then you are stuck writing novels that are only of the LDS variety, or ones that are completely devoid of romance (which is hard to do because we learn a lot about ourselves as we fall in love and work through relationships). Whether we like to admit it or not, sex and romantic love are pretty closely connected in our society. Even in LDS circles, there are plenty of young men surrounded by wonderful friend-girls who they are not attracted to and will never marry for that reason.


Shannon Hale's novel, Austenland, makes no pretenses of being for anyone other than adults. The protagonist is in her mid-thirties, single, un-religious and living in New York. This is not a novel aimed (necessarily) at an LDS audience, and certainly not aimed at teenage girls. Implying that a woman living such a lifestyle is automatically trashy because she is just following the rules of the culture she lives in is jumping the gun a bit, I think.


In fact, Hale works very hard to let the reader draw their own conclusions. Other than a little descriptive making-out, she avoids the sex question entirely, by merely implying there are times this main character was okay with it and times that she wasn't. No descriptions, no titilating details, no smokin' hot love scenes. . . .


Now, the Twilight saga (the word used on Amazon) on the other hand . . . (I promise, I'm not getting holier than thou here. I've read them all and probably will read the next as well. I'm just trying to make a point.) Stephanie Meyer has kind of painted herself into a corner. These books are obsessesed with descriptions of physical attraction (and physcial attractiveness) and she is never shy to put her characters into very close and compromising situations. After all, any Bishop worth his salt will tell you that merely not having sex is really not enough, and having your boyfriend sleep in your room every night is definitely over-stepping the bounds of what is and is not appropriate. When it comes time for Edward and Bella to finally just get past the tension, marriage or not, she will have to alienate a certain portion of her readers. Her younger and/or more conservative fans (read: LDS) will mostly be disappointed if she includes the gory details, feeling like she sold-out. Still, they will probably comfort themselves with the fact that "at least they are married." On the other hand, her older, non-LDS readers will be disapointed if she allows the great consummation to take place behind closed doors. "What!?! 1500 pages of passion burning the pages up and she leaves out the undressing of Edward!!!!???????!!!!!!!" It is almost like the whole abstience thing in the Meyer books is just a way of obsessing about sex.

It is an interesting question, but I have to admit I found Austenland, for all of its implied sexuality, much less trashy than Eclipse, with its relentless sensuality. As LDS authors (and actors) become more and more mainstream, it will sometimes be hard to make choices about what is really appropriate. And make no mistake, LDS authors will have to bear closer scrutiny than their less religious peers. There is no getting away from it: our culture affects everything we do, even when we are trying to operate outside our culture; and those outside our culture watch us very carefully.



In an unrelated news item, did you guys know this is called the "Dead Star." That's what Patchy Pirate says. Of course, Scallywag tells me that Patchy is still a padawan learner, and not yet a full Jedi.

Mother of the Year (Alternatively Titled: And Then She Needed Her Head Examined)

I mostly love to read stories about all of your adorable kid things. Sometimes I wonder at my own motivation when I post these stories/events. While most of it is to say, "Look what we are up to?" or "Aren't the kids adorable?" But sometimes I have to say that these cutsie posts smack of "Look what a great mother I am!" And I hope that I am self-aware enough to tell you right up front that the tone of this post will lean a little bit that direction. So if you hate that sort of shameless self-promotion. STOP READING RIGHT NOW.

Okay, if you've stuck with me this far then you get to listen to me pat myself on the back. :) So the Poopy Pirate agreed enthusiastically to my birthday party idea, even though I must be nuts to allow any kind of tradition that occurs less than two weeks before Christmas. Then, brilliant STM that I am, hit on the idea to have a "Go Diego Go" party: the current love of our three-year old life. The alternative was a Thomas Party, but I've just done WAY too many of these. (Not as many as on.the.run. but enough.) Should be a piece of cake, right?

Wrong.

If there is Go Diego party paraphenelia out there then it is not for sale in our corner of The Land of Commercialism. Instead mommy basically created the party from scratch, though after four phone calls I found a bakery that could do my cake "kit." Here is a sampling--notice my fabulously coordinated blue and orange as well as my blue and orange children:


It was hard for Scallywag to understand that it wasn't actually his birthday. He was right in the thick of making the invites, decorating, welcoming the kids and (naturally) opening the booty.

Below is a picture of us playing a board game called "Go Diego." No, I did not actually purchase said game for the party, though it came in handy. How long do you think musical chairs can be played with a group of three year olds? Nope, not even that long. The game was a space filler before the pinata extravaganza. Which was Scallywag's idea. (Aside: I really wanted to get a princess or Dora pinata and take a turn of my own walking the you-know-what out of it, but I am a model of decorum.) Oh, and in the picture below, that is me on the left. This is the only shot you'll see of me. Plantboy took some video from the party which apparently primarily involved getting three minutes of my hiney. Not posted.

This is a bean bag toss game, only you don't throw bean bags through holes. Or even bean bags for that matter. What you do is take some of Captain Tootypants' soft blocks and throw them as hard as you can at pictures of diego and the animals he is rescuing. For stickers.

Now for the part where mommy needs her head examined.

After the party (and waiting for the parent who thinks the party ends 30 minutes later than it actually did), I had to drive all over the neighborhood because I have started an early morning paper route. How early you must be asking? There has hardly been a day in the last month that I've gotten out of bed later than THREE AM. I am NOT making this up. Anyway, I was having a couple of route troubles so I drove all over making sure that I had my house numbers correct when I could actually see them. The paper route will, no doubt, one day be a very charming post all on its own, so I will refrain from further comment here.

Then I went to Staples where I picked up the copy of my book that I made to give to my mother. I did a very ruthless edit and am extremely happy with this (temporarily anyway) final version. I still think that unless you read more than the first three chapters you aren't sure if you're sold on it, so I may try another publisher that looks more at an entire manuscript (or at least says they do). My plan is to send it off again in January.

I came home just in time to realize that I had signed up weeks before to feed our missionaries, which I do every month, but I'm never consistent about the day or the week so it is always a complete shock when they call. I noted with some smugness that sister missionaries are more considerate about calling at least a couple of days in advance. Elders . . . . .

So last Saturday was a very long day. Perhaps not as long as this coming Saturday wherein we will load three kids in the car at three am and hope to make Ogden in 13 hours.

Last two items (I know, I know, I've got to get the pics off my camera more often):

We've had our Christmas on for about a month now, but I had to post a picture of my Christmas tree. I bought it at a garage sale in Champions Forest because the family had three others (my TX friends will appreciate that tidbit). We were traveling that year and a tree was not in the budget. Neither were presents. Neither was the traveling. Anyway, it was late afternoon when I stopped on a whim at the garage sale. How much did she want for this seven foot beauty covered with seven strands of white lights? FIVE DOLLARS.

Um . . . sold?

Anyway, nearly all of the ornaments are homemade and we add a few each year. This year it is clothespin angels that my neighbor taught me how to make. It is a little bright, bold, silly and just so darn homey. We love our tree. I think Plantboy would love to do the lumberjack thing and get the boys out in the woods to pick their own, but I remind him how environmental this is: we reduce because we don't get a new one every year, we reuse this one and we recycled it from somebody else. So we are having a green Christmas in at least one respect.

Almost ready to wrap up, promise. Here is the baby who slept like an angel all through the Diego Melee, but has been a little devil over the last 48 hours with an icky fever and more snot and drool than I've ever seen even come from a BIG person.

My last item is just such a funny kid thing that you will definitely be rewarded if you have made it this far. Yesterday afternoon, Pirate dragged out the dinosaurs that haven't been played with for months. He began making up names for them and acting very silly. He began calling this dinosaur the yee-horse. I have no idea why.

Anyway, Scallywag got after Pirate for making up "dumb" stuff. Right, because Scallywag isn't full of it. Anyway, it turns out that the yee-horse can fly. Well, this was even more dumb in Scallywag's book, but when he saw what fun Pirate was having, he promptly picked up the other yee-horse, who is pink and apparently the female.

I'm not sure what these two yee-horses are doing:

But this is their baby, who is still learning to fly.

Does Anybody Have Any Chocolate?

This is supposed to be a recipe post, but it says something about the strength of the bonds formed via blogging that I've decided instead to share some news here, first, instead.

I just heard from Covenant Books . . . .

And they are NOT going to further consider my book.

The first time this happened, a couple of years ago, I wasn't really surprised. I thought my first finished novel had its strengths, but not very publishable, as there is just too much stuff in that genre. This one, however, was the right idea at the right time. I have a feeling that if this book doesn't go anywhere , then I probably don't have one in me that will ever go anywhere.

Let's just say it is a perfect finish to the mood I've had hanging around off and on for the last couple of weeks. Still, tomorrow is another day, and the writing compulsion will come again and tap at the corners of my brain until I have to answer. And, as I've told Plantboy many times, I'm not writing for money or fame or even influence. . . .I write for me. The stories and thoughts build up until I'm sure I'll begin talking to myself if I don't get them out.