Six Weeks

The last six weeks has been very busy. I think I finally see and end in sight, however. Next week should slow down a whole lot, culminating with Plantboy taking ALL the kids on the father-son camp out this year. This happy occurrence is the day after my birthday and I will get precisely what I want for number 36: A (partial) day of peace and quiet at home.

I have been hard at work on my goals the last weeks:

* My scripture study has picked up because of an unexpected boost. I have a friend who was baptised last October and has taken a strong interest in studying the Book of Mormon. We are giving each other reading assignments and meeting weekly to talk about them. It has been really great, and the kind of thing I haven't done for years. Having a study buddy keeps us both accountable and keeps us motivated.
* As mentioned here, I have finished a manuscript that several people are reviewing. I began working on a second full pass of it last night. My reading has been curbed back quite a lot, but the stack of books continues to grow. My blogging time has, obviously, been scaled way back.

* I've been exercising more regularly and have lost some weight, but I'm starting to think that even the half marathon isn't going to happen. My YW calling has kept me incredibly busy since Christmas and I just can't commit the time to the running that I need. I won't make a full decision for a couple of more weeks, but I feel some relief in admitting that it just might not be my year to marathon.

* I applied to graduate school (instructional technology) through an on-line program at my alma mater. After lots of pros and cons and years of consideration, this on-line option is the only one that really felt right. It will be cheaper, and I will be able to keep working while I complete it. I will finish the same time my youngest starts first grade, and instructional technology should give me more flexibility than a straight education degree.

Last year I felt like I was on the verge of everything and was filled with indecision and a large degree of depression. This year, I feel like I've taken the next step into the darkness. I'm not at all sure what will happen next, but it feels very good to have acted with a degree of faith and determination.

So here is the run down of what has kept us so busy these last several weeks.

The first order of business has been getting the garden in. And though Plantboy does most of the work, I have spent my share of sunny-ish afternoons weeding, weeding, forever weeding. The reward is that these bare plots are now filled with leafy growing things, well on their way to becoming food. Except the peas--they mildewed in so much rain and had to be re-planted this week.






The weekend of Plantboy's birthday and spring break, we decided to tile the kitchen. This is one of the bigger home improvement projects we have undertaken, and it was fairly difficult. The end result is beautiful (though I don't exactly have a proper "after" picture). and now we are trying to gear up enough desire to do the bathrooms next.










Before the grout had even dried, I thought, "What about that bathroom I've wanted to tackle for the last two years??" And I did, with a vengeance. Though still sporting the nasty old linoleum, the bathroom got a major makeover, paint-wise. Even the cabinets. Still, I had some good help so it wasn't too bad.








Spring came. I guess that wasn't a thing that kept me busy, but it was certainly a thing that has kept me going. The perennials and bulbs are lovely this year.







We finished painting the bathroom just in time to work on the Pinewood Derby. It was a night of tears, frustration and disappointment. At least at our house. Plantboy may get enlisted for some serious hours next year. Here is Jedi Knight winning the award for best "Hot Rod." The award only made him angrier because, "it isn't even a hot rod!!!"




My parents came to visit over Easter Weekend. Mom and I hosted an egg hunt/Bunny Money store for a few of the kids' friends. I had brunchy foods for the grown ups at the same time and it was actually a lot of fun.









Mom and Dad DID come to town to visit the grand kids, but they came that particular weekend because we had Wicked tickets. My sister also came. We had dinner first and then walked to the theater just a block from the restaurant (and only 10 minutes from home!). The show was fantastic. I'll spare you the review--there are many others written that are both better and more expert. It almost matched my anticipation level. I say "almost" because I'm not quite sure anything could have: I spent over a year putting the evening together. I promise I rocked that white outfit. I realize more forcefully all the time that I am NOT photogenic.


Jeff and Padawan went to an Oregon Ducks baseball game courtesy of a newspaper customer who was looking to get rid of some tickets. It was Padawan's first grown up outing on his own with dad. He said it was the best day of his life, even if game treats had to be tepid hot chocolate in a commemorative cup because it was so cold.




Here we are in Egypt. Not really. The following pictures are at the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry: OMSI. It is pretty much awesome. We saw a mummy, dinosaur bones, tried to build earthquake proof buildings and ball guns. We saw an IMAX film about baby orangutans and elephants. Most of the activities were hands on. We got to go to dinner on the way home from Portland . . . it was just a really awesome day.

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.

Rejected Eclipse Screenplay

This was harder to do than my New Moon screenplay, which came together in a single afternoon. I am not sure why I had more writer's block with this one. Eclipse has a lot more action in it, and in many ways is a better story, and a better book. Maybe it is harder to make fun of? Maybe I'm so sick of the Twilight "saga" that I might start carrying a black marker to give pictures of Robert Pattison Dali-style mustaches.

Seriously, Patticakes?

Yet, though I generally preferred it to the second book, watching Bella, a deeply flawed (or maybe just 17 year-old?) heroine mercilessly play with the emotions of her two true loves is a bit unsettling. Okay, more than a bit. There is one point where she refers to herself as the most selfish person alive or some other hyperbolic drama . . . but she has a point.

Anyway, there were aspects to this book on re-reading it that I really enjoyed. I liked the legend that Meyer built up around her wolf-warriors. I like indigenous creation myths, and this one was very original and well-crafted. The myth, and the fireside telling of it, firmly puts her unique story in the fantasy camp. (Team Jacob!) I greatly dislike her discussion of genetics and chromosomes in the 4th book. It is just so unnecessary, not to mention terrible science. To enjoy the books the reader has already suspended all sense of reality: there is no point in trying to pretend she is writing science fiction.

Anyway, here is my rejected screenplay for Eclipse. It probably will best hit its mark if you either love or hate these books, but is likely to be meaningless if you haven't read them. Laugh if you can. Forward it if you want.

Eclipse Screenplay

Scene 1: (Bella’s Kitchen)

Bella: (talking out loud as she writes on a sheet of paper) Dear Jacob, Do you still like me? Check the box. Yes. No. Maybe. Love, Bells.

Charlie: (entering) Is there some dinner ready?

Bella: On the stove.

Charlie: (looking, musing to himself) Does it seem like we eat a lot of spaghetti?

Bella: Could you take this to Jacob’s dad?

Charlie: Why don’t you just call him?

Bella: He won’t answer the phone.

Charlie: E-mail?

Bella: He isn’t on-line.

Charlie: Text?

Bella: He doesn’t have a phone.

Charlie: What is it, 1998?

Bella: Just take it, please, Dad.

Charlie: Maybe you should just leave it alone. (Doorbell sounds)

Bella: (over-eager) There’s Edward!

Charlie: (scowling) All right, I’ll take the stupid note. (Bella squeals and runs in the other room. Charlie yells after her.) Don’t forget, you’re grounded! Freaky boyfriend out by ten!

Scene 2: (Bella’s Bedroom)

Edward: You know, it can hardly be called grounding if I sneak back in here after ten every night.

Bella: (giggles) I’m 18. I can do what I want.

Edward: Not exactly.

Bella: What do you mean?

Edward: You cannot see Jacob Black.

Bella: But he’s my friend—he is the one that put me back together when, you know, you weren’t here. Remember when I was the only girl in the world who'd ever had my heart broken?

Edward: Young werewolves are too dangerous.

Bella: Good grief, one girl gets a little bit mauled by her boyfriend and you are so ready to judge. It is Jacob. I’m totally safe.

Edward: No you aren’t.

Bella: Yes I am.

Edward: I say no.

Bella: I say yes.

Edward. Uh, no.

Bella: Oh, Edward! I hate arguing with you.

Edward: Then just do what I say.

Bella: Why?

Edward: Because we are in love. And that means you will do whatever I say.

Bella: (sighs, giving up) Whatever you say, Gorgeous. You clearly know what is best for me. Just don't leave me again.

Scene 3: (In front of school)

Edward: Yuck. What is he doing here? (Looking across parking lot)

Bella: (Squeals and runs) Jacob!!

Jacob: (On motorcycle, grinning) Hey Bells.

Bella: You got my note?

Jacob: Sure did. (Edward approaches, Jacob’s tone becomes really seductive) And my answer is yes.

Edward: (snarls) Back off, dog.

Jacob: Bella is safer with a dog than a monster.

Edward: Hey, I’ll have you know I haven’t had another human to eat in decades.

Bella: Uh, this fight over me is really adorable, but here comes the principal and he doesn’t look too happy.

Principal: Mr. Cullen, is everything all right here? Your grades, money and whiteness tell me that this other young man clearly is at fault here.

Edward: No problem. Jacob was just leaving. He wanted to talk to Bella, but she doesn’t want to talk to him.

Jacob: (Hurt) Is this true?

Bella: No. (glaring at Edward) But I have to do what Edward says, because that is the hallmark of a healthy relationship.

Jacob: Fine. I’m going, I just wanted to warn you Bella.

Bella: Warn me?

Edward: Jacob, don’t.

Jacob: (Ignoring Edward, though a crowd is gathering) She’s back. And she’s coming for you. Tell the Cullens to stay off our side of the line; she’s ours. (Revs motorcycle and drives away)

Principal: Mr. Cullen, if you and your “brothers” are contemplating some kind of rumble with this tribe of miscreants, I have to tell you that I need to let Police Chief Swan know about it.

Bella: (Laughs) Are you kidding? Charlie would love it.

Edward: Just come to class Bella.

Bella: Whatever you say, My Love.

Mike Newton: My money’s on the big Indian.

Scene 4: (In class)

Bella: (Under her breath to Edward—they are supposed to be listening to a lecture) Did you know about Victoria coming back?

Edward: Yeah. For some reason she decided not to bother you at all for the six months that there were no vampires in Forks. Her return coincided almost exactly with ours. And we’d have had her too, if it hadn’t been for those meddling kids. I mean dogs. Yuck. I can still smell him.

Bella: (Sniffs her own armpit) Maybe I just need new deodorant.

Edward: Have you seen the way he looks at you? And his thoughts!

Bella: Thoughts?

Edward: He isn’t really interested in your friendship. You are NOT going to see him.

Bella: (whiney) Am too!

Edward: I tell you; there is nothing more dangerous than a young werewolf.

Bella: Nothing?

Edward: Okay. Young vampires. And really old vampires. And red-headed vampires. Motorcyles. Glass seems rather problematic for you. Oh, and Jasper of course.

Bella: Anything else?

Edward: Nuclear holocaust. But that’s beside the point.

Bella: Please, Edward. I really need your permission to make even simple decisions.

Edward: (Dejected) Fine.

Bella: (loudly) Yipee!

Teacher: (sharply) Miss Swan? Why have you written the word “smoldering” all over the margins of your paper?

Scene 5: (At the Reservation, looking out over the ocean)

Bella: He really is a nice guy, you know, down to the core.

Jacob: Except for the part where he eats people, right?

Bella: He doesn’t eat people. Not anymore. And he is really, really good looking.

Jacob: I'm good looking.

Bella: But he's rich.

Jacob: So good looks and money.

Bella: (standing up and stamping) How dare you suggest that I am shallow? I’m like, you know, so mature and stuff.

Jacob: I’m just saying that when people fall in love with each other, they should stick within their own species.

Bella: Newsflash Jacob! (Shouting louder) YOU ARE A WEREWOLF. NOT HUMAN, WERE. WOLF.

Jacob: Only part of the time. It’s not the same at all.

Bella: (Big Sigh)

Jacob: (After a pause) Did I tell you about the imprinting?

Bella: Imprinting?

Jacob: Well, there is a long and boring story about how the wolves came to be, but the most interesting part is that when one of us sees the woman we are meant to mate with . . .

Bella: Mate with?

Jacob: (Ignoring her horrified look) You know like soul mate.

Bella: I’m not sure that’s exactly what you are talking about.

Jacob: Sure I am. It is like you see each other and BOOM the whole world is focused on that one person and nobody else matters any more.

Bella: Like love at first sight?

Jacob: A bit more absolute.

Bella: Oh no! Holy crap! You haven’t imprinted on ME have you? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve imprinted on Edward! That can't be right.

Jacob: (flatly) No, Bella.

Bella: (rambling) That’s a relief, because sometimes it is almost like you are in love with me, which is really hard to believe because I never even had a date in Arizona and here the boys just can't seem to stay away from me. Humans, half breeds, blood-suckers. I'm just so popular.

Jacob: I AM in love with you.

Bella: You mean like a friend, right?

Jacob: No, not really.

Bella: Sure you do. (Nervous) I’m just a stand-in until your soul mate arrives.

Jacob: (Yelling) I don’t care about what I’m forced to do. I choose to love you. And you love me too, don’t kid yourself. The blood-sucker doesn’t know what’s best for you! I do! (Suddenly kisses Bella.)

Bella: Don’t. Stop.

Jacob: Which is it?

Bella: (slugs Jacob)

Jacob: (laughing) I knew you liked it.

Bella: Oh! You’re the worst! I’m going now. (Stalks off beach and climbs into truck. Jacob is still laughing.)

Scene 5 (In Bella’s kitchen; Charlie and Edward are eyeing each others suspiciously over coffee; Charlie turns away and reads the paper.)

Charlie: So what are you two kids up to this weekend?

Bella: Not much

Charlie: You can’t go near Seattle.

Bella: Why does everyone tell me what to do! (Jumps up and leaves room.)

Charlie: What was that all about?

Edward: (shrugs) PMS. What’s this about Seattle?

Charlie: Mass murderer. A bunch of creepy, unexplainable deaths.

Edward: Any leads?

Charlie: No. (Laughs out loud) Listen to this (reading from paper) “Eyewitness claims to have seen one of the victims bitten on the neck before being carted off down a dark alley.” Can you believe that? Now this creep has given rise to some idiot vampire myth. People are so gullible.

Edward: You have no idea.

Charlie: Still, better to stay away . . . . Bella seems to attract negative attention of this sort too often.

Edward: You have no idea.

Scene 6 (In Bella’s bedroom; same day as above. Bella is still sulking.)

Edward: Bella, you didn’t want to go to Seattle, did you?

Bella: No; I just don’t like being told what to do.

Edward. Ah. Well, quit your crying, it turns out there actually is a plot to this story after all.

Bella: What’s that?

Edward: Pack of vampires loose in Seattle. Wait, does it smell in here?

Bella: Smell?

Edward: Not like you, My Flower, more like another vampire. Not me. A stranger.

Bella: What?

Edward: Oh, no! The vampires in Seattle are clearly after you.

Bella: Oh—so it IS all about me?

Edward: And me, of course.

Bella: Right. What about Jacob?

Edward: Honey, there is just no room in this story for Jake. Oh—except you do need to tell him that a whole coven of bloodthirsty young vampires is coming to Forks and we might need their help.

Bella: WHAT????

Scene 7 (In the large clearing where the baseball game took place in Twilight. Several of the pack are there, though not in werewolf form. Edward is speaking to them.)

Edward: Now, the vampires are coming. Victoria has created an entire army of them to get Bella, of course. It is equally obvious that we should all put our lives on the line for her. The plan is pretty simple. We will rub her scent all over everything to lure the vampires into the clearing. Then we kill them. Questions?

Generic Native American Boy #1: What’s your name again?

Edward: Edward. Any others?

Generic Native American Boy #2: When do we eat? I’m starving.

Generic Native American Boy #3: Yeah, we were told there was going to be pizza.

Edward: I meant questions about the plan.

Jacob: Where will Bella be?

Edward: In a tent with me.

Jacob: What the . . .

Edward: But I need one of the pack nearby so that I can read all your thoughts.

Jacob: What the . . . .

Edward: Anything else? (Confused looks) Good. Now, we don’t know when they are coming or how many there will be. Alice’s gift is very conveniently out of order again (glaring at Alice).

Alice: Werewolf problem! Not my fault.

Edward: Anyway, just keep hanging around here until something happens. (Boy #3 raises his hand again.) And yes, Fluffy, Esme’s Hummer is filled with pizza. (Werewolves all metamorphosize and converge on Esme’s car.)

Bella: (Voice low) You didn’t tell me about the whole tent thing. Does this mean we’re gonna do it?

Edward: Do what?

Bella: Please tell me you aren’t that dense.

Edward: Uh . . .

Jacob: What you two talkin’ about huh?

Bella: Nothing.

Edward (at the same time) I have no idea.

Jacob: Well, just in case you had any funny ideas Cullen, it is me that is going to be standing guard at the tent.

Edward: Oh, that's just great.

Alice: By the way, Bella bring an extra sleeping bag. It is going to snow tonight.

Edward: Let me get this straight—your telling the future power has been reduced to weather forecasts?

Alice: Pretty much.

Scene 8 (Small tent with a couple of flashlights lit inside. Bella sits in one corner holding her legs and shaking. Edward sits opposite with a worried expression.)

Bella: It is just so c. . . co. . . .cold.

Edward: We could cuddle?

Bella: You are the c . . . c . . . co. . . .coldest. . . . thing in the p . . . p. . . place.

Edward: Sorry.

Bella: Unless . . .

Edward: Unless?

Bella: I mean first aid for hypothermia says that we should . . .

Edward: Sorry Bella. We aren’t doing that either.

Bella: Oh c’mon! Every guy has had the hypothermia fantasy at one time or another. You really can’t be telling me no.

Edward: I really am. Unless you marry me.

Bella: Groan.

Edward: Sorry, babe. That’s the deal.

Jacob: (Unzipping tent and letting a blast of cold air and snow in.) Is Bella warm enough?

Bella: As a matter of fact, no.

Jacob: I can help (seductive).

Edward: He is definitely having the hypothermia fantasy.

Jacob: (Shrugs) Whatever works.

Bella: Just get in here. (She snuggles up next to him.) Oh, yeah, that is more like it. Edward, you are really smoldering now. (Jacob crawls in the sleeping bag next to her.)

Edward: This is a means to an end, Jacob Black. If you lay a hand on her without her permission I will rip your throat out.

Bella: So much drama Edward. Just let me sleep.

Scene 9 (Morning outside the tent. Jacob and Bella are talking.)

Jacob: I’m glad Edward had to run and talk to the others. I need to ask you something.

Bella: Okay.

Jacob: Last night was incredible. Wonderful. Amazing.

Bella: I get the point.

Jacob: You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything, Bells.

Bella: Uh . . . . I think you need to start shaving?

Jacob: (Rubs his face) Maybe so. But that isn’t what I meant.

Bella: What did you mean? Like attraction? (Nods.) Jacob! How could I be attracted to you? You are my best friend and you are super funny. I mean, you are muscled and bronze instead of being skinny and pale. (She looks a him closer and speaks slower.) You are warm instead of cold. . . . O. M. G. Jacob! You are smoking hot! (Kisses him hard.)

Jacob: You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything, Bells.

Bella: You DO need to start shaving.

Edward: Bella? (Coming out of the clearing, having just seen the two of them kissing.)

Bella: Edward. I WILL marry you!

Jacob: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Runs off into the woods.)

Edward: Then what was the kissing all about?

Bella: (shrugs) Just messin’ with him.

Edward: So, we’re engaged huh?

Bella: Don’t say it so loud.

Edward: And we’ve got this tent to ourselves the rest of the day. . .

Bella: What about the big vampire fight?

Edward: We aren’t really involved. (Starts kissing her)

Bella: What about the wait until you are married thing?

Edward: I’m less committed than I was last night (More kissing.)

Bella: Now I want to wait. (Pulls back)

Edward: What?

Bella: (Smiles sweetly) Now I’m messing with you.

Edward: (sniffing) Vampires.

Bella: What?

Edward: Victoria. The young ones were a distraction. She knew that I’d never leave you unprotected.

(Victoria arrives. There is a big vampire fight. Edward wins. Duh.)

Scene 10 (In Bella’s truck. Edward and Bella are speeding along at a rocking 45 miles per hour. Bella is clearly panicked.)

Bella: So tell me again what happened?

Edward: Well, we thought it was all over, but one of them snuck up out of no where and Jacob had to be a hero . . . .

Bella: Oooo! He’s hurt?

Edward: Yes, But he’s healing quickly. It’s a werewolf thing. Carlisle got to him and stopped the blood flow. The real problem was that his bones healed too fast and Carlisle had to re-break them all to make them set correctly.

Bella: Yuck.

Edward: He’s a tough kid.

Bella: Yep. I’ll invite him to the wedding. Then we’ll see how tough he is.

Edward: Speaking of the wedding. . . .

Bella: Yes?

Edward: Alice wants to make it a huge fancy deal.

Bella: (groan) You know I hate people making a fuss over me. (sigh) Oh, well. I guess I’ll just have to be the center of the universe again.

Edward: You’re the center of my universe, baby.

Bella: Oh, Edward! (Start kissing while he drives.) I'm gonna be a vampire! I'm gonna be a vampire!

In Case You Are New Here

I'm actually guest-posting today over at Dare to Dream. I would like to thank Whitney for inviting me onto such a great blog filled with stories of incredible women and their dreaming.

If you are visiting from Dare to Dream, then thanks so much for stopping by. As my post there is about my great writing ambition, it might be helpful if you could actually read something I've written besides that essay. I blog about all kinds of things, including plenty of emphasis on politics and religion. There is nothing like diving head first into taboo subjects to force people to comment!

Here are a collection of essays from the last 2 1/2 years that might be termed my "best stuff." These 15 posts comprise less than 5% of my total blog, but are a good representation of the kind of things you could expect. They are ordered with the oldest being on the top. I also have a finished novel posted to a blog on my sidebar link, but it is religious fiction, so consider yourself warned.

1. My very first post titled "Hug a Trucker Day" is still one of my favorite, perhaps because I finally had a blog-worthy story to tell.

2. This post is about being a new mother in a new place. Re-reading it today was the best birth control I've taken in a long time.

3. "The Wealth Gap" is definitely a political piece, as are the links. Even as I hit "publish" I knew there would be some strong opinions.

4. This is the first of several health care posts. If you are interested in my politics, there is a topics list if you scroll down far enough. I posted this in response to being called a Communist. There is nothing like some name-calling to really sort out ideas.

5. This post brings up the relationship between religion and popular culture.

6. From Father's Day a couple of years ago, this is a tribute to my dad (and my mother, really) titled "Bean Boy."

7. "Just Throw a Casserole At It" explores the way women can support one another when unthinkable things happen, and what a small random act of service might mean to someone who is struggling.

8. This piece is about the widening gap between modern 20-something men and women, and why true love seems so hard to find.

9. This details the closest I've ever been to publishing anything--a letter to the editor in a prominent, national magazine.

10. Now and then I really get my snark on. This piece, from a year ago is a hilarious review of the ACM awards.

11. "Ambition" is about the conflict that women feel between working and mothering, and how ambition can be both fostered in a mother's heart as well as passed on to her children or other young people she has opportunity to interact with.

12. This essay is an exploration of my feelings upon finding that my first really ambitious writing effort was not going to be published, at least not officially!

13. This one is called "A Mother-Heart" and is probably pretty self-explanatory.

14. This post, "The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands" is a book review for the same title. Even months later I'm still getting comments from bloggers I've never even heard of.

15. And a last, controversial politics-piece to round out the list.

28 Days of L-O-V-E

Day 25

I love it when friends invite you away for the weekend. We are headed to the mountains where there is fresh snow. And although such a wonderful proposition isn't going to mean skiing this year (Tabula has a newborn so she is neither eligible for babysitting or for being a ski-buddy; Plantboy boy and Jamin went up today), it probably does mean snow shoeing and some serious snowball fighting. If we our lucky in our choice of time shares, it might also mean a hot tub. Oh, yeah, I could get used to this life.

Because we will be away from this afternoon through Sunday, I'm going to finish up my blogging today UNTIL APRIL. Really. I can do this. And now that I've told you all that I am, I feel more confident about sticking to it.


Day 26

I love hot chocolate and white bread toast for breakfast. Since I don't really buy white bread, this breakfast is reserved for the odd loaf of French bread that makes its way into the house. The lemon rosemary bread also makes the yummiest toast I've ever eaten. Ever.


Day 27

Tomorrow is Dad's birthday. I've written a couple of (better) posts about him in previous years, so I will link them here if you are interested. (I think Bean Boy is especially well-written, though the other has some fun pictures.) I love my dad, without reservation. It took me some years to come to that conclusion, but I'm very glad that I did.


Day 28

I love the star magnolia tree in our front yard. Because we have had some early, warm days this year, the tree is already in blossom, casually flaunting the fact that it is still February. Even on a wet gray day, like today, I want to throw on the sandals and dig out my skimmers.





Now for something that you can actually give some thought to, and comment on. Because if there is one thing I have learned about myself and blogging, it is that I am a comment junkie. I'm sure that any psychologist would be happy to blather on about my need for attention, etc. etc., and they might be right. Lately I've started to think that this is why I want to publish--I just have to know what people think of my writing, and if I'm good enough to make it. Time will tell.

Last week, JennyMac (who is always funny, by the way, though my disclaimer says that your brand of humor and hers might not be compatible) wrote a post about a rash on her hand that caused her to go wedding-ring-less in public for a few days. The post was titled, "I Feel Naked Without . . . ." I couldn't relate on a wedding ring level. I actually hardly ever wear mine in the house because rings kind of drive me nuts. Also, my hands swell slightly when I sleep and a LOT when I exercise, making it very uncomfortable.

Instead her post made me think about some part of me, either innate or ornamental, that makes me really feel like myself. I decided that it is probably the color blue. I hardly ever get dressed for the day without some spot of blue. I'm not picky about the exact color or shade of blue, but I never feel quite like myself unless I'm sporting something blue. Blue is such an introspective color.

Her post, and my exercise in finding things I love, made me think further about what I couldn't live without. In the past month I've read two books, The Hunger Games and These is My Words, that made me think about survival and what a person actually NEEDS to make it through life. This theme has further been emphasized as we ready the Young Women in our ward to go on a pioneer trek this summer. Other than bedding, everything they are allowed to take for three days has to go in a five gallon bucket. They have been given a list, and as a gimmick to help the girls get ready, I have been running weekly contests and awarding the winners truly fabulous presents like Gold Bond Medicated Powder, pink bandannas, facial wipes and extra healing lotion. On their list of things to bring is a small instrument such as a recorder or harmonica.

I don't play the harmonica OR the recorder, and I'm quite certain that if I had to walk a thousand miles across the wilderness I would not take either. But what would I take? What personal item would mean the most to me? Katniss, from Hunger Games, needed a bow and some arrows more than anything, and this vision of her as a huntress defines her character throughout the book. (Not entirely masculine--think Diana, goddess of the hunt.) Sarah, from These is My Words, carried a wagon full of books across the plains. One night, she awakens to what she thinks is a fire in her wagon, disoriented and anxious and her first thought is not that she might die, but that her books might burn. She places higher priority on her books than on her life. Like Katniss' weapons, the books become the thing that defines Sarah's character.

I'm like Sarah, if I was going to carry books across the plains, it would have had to have been a wagon load of them. And yet, I can understand why many families only took a family Bible of Book of Mormon with them. Maye they were hoping or enough inspiration to make up a library. Maybe they got it. I know that I'm glad I haven't had to make the choice. Though anybody who has ever helped me move and hauled dozens of boxes of books probably wishes I would make a choice.



The woman who is the president of our Young Women organization in our ward is also going on the trek. I'm actually a bit jealous. Her kids are a little bit older than mine and it is a good time for her to go--not so much for us. I was trying to decide on what token to give her for the trek. It would have to be something small enough to take, but more meaningful than rash powder. And the it hit me.

I went to the bookstore and found her a small, leather-bound journal with sewn in pages. The pages are unlined and thick. In the note I enclosed with the journal, I told my friend that if I could have only carried one personal item across the plains, it would have been something very much like this. And then it hit me: while I might be able to feed and clothe myself without unlined pages and something to write with, unless I can chronicle my journey and write thoughts down in order to better sort through them, I really don't feel like life is worth much. Perhaps like Katniss' bow and Sarah's books, it is the blank pages waiting to be filled that define me: the thing that erases that terrible feeling of nakedness we get when something is missing.I'm still going to spend my month writing. Just not here. I love you all. Happy Lenting.

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.

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.

Check It Out

Here is the link for my new blog. I had hoped to call it myfiction. blogspot.com or hopefulwriter. blogspot.com, but these were both taken. The one that was NOT taken however was fictionforfree.blogspot. So, happy reading. It won't cost you a dime.

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.