You Want to Read This One--Oh, Yes, You Do!

I have 3 fun things to announce today:



1) The Her Good Name contest is now closed. The winner of a free, autographed copy of this awesome Josi. S. Kilpack novel is Cathy J!
Congratulations!

(I'll be sending a notice out to my newsletter subscribers soon in case she doesn't see her name here.)

Which leads me to:

2) A NEW contest is now up on my site. This time the winner will get the complete, unabridged audio book (on CD) of J. Scott Savage's new hit fantasy, Farworld.


(You know you want it! It's a great book!)

How to enter:

Go to the contest page on my website and read the instructions there. You'll need to find the answer to a trivia question on the Farworld website (you'll find a link to it from my contest page).

When you find the answer, type it into the contest form, click "submit," and you're entered!

One entry per person, and no one in far-off countries, please. My postage budget can't take it. :)

"Far-off" is defined as in another continent. Canada isn't "far-off" in my book, in case you're wondering.

Good luck!

3) Finally, THIS weekend, (Friday and Saturday, November 21-22) is the 5th Annual Utah Chocolate Show at the South Towne Expo Center. It's run by my older sister Mel, and in the first years of the show, I was her assistant director (until stuff like life as a writer got in the way).

The show is loads of fun for any chocolate lover. You want to go. Trust me on this one.

Find out more at the Utah Chocolate Show website.

I Needed That

Today I had a much-needed lunch with a dear friend whom I've known since eighth grade (and who has gone by the nickname "J. J.-Panda" since then for reasons I don't recall. I've referred to her before, such as in this post).

Among the many subjects covered in the two hours we chatted over our Training Table sandwiches (oooh, yum . . .) was what's happened to some of our high school friends. One is a professional opera singer. A very, very good one, I might add.

We reminisced about how the two of them sang a duet at the end of one of our choir concerts and how amazing it was. (I swear, she's one of the best sopranos I've ever heard.) It gave me goosebumps, and the rest of the audience, too, judging by the much-deserved standing ovation.

And then she said something that took me totally off-guard: how proud she was of some of those friends for what they've made of themselves with their talents . . . including me.

I snorted. Probably rolled my eyes.

I mean, sure, I've several published books, and that's a big accomplishment. I won't pooh-pooh that.

But I'm no Stephenie Meyer. My husband wishes for the day he could retire and we could live on my royalties (never gonna happen, at least with what I sell). The number of readers I have is microscopic when compared to even moderately successful authors outside this market.

She stopped me cold. "Don't underestimate what you do," she told me. "Really."

And she went on, describing how needed the kind of thing is that I write. How there are thousands of women out there, just needing a break from life, something that takes them away from their stresses for awhile and reaffirms their faith. And then they remember that they bought a book by me, and they crack it open, and it brings them relief and confirmations of their testimonies.

She teared up, and I did, too. But I shook my head, waving her words away.

"No, really. That's been me with your books," she insisted. "And I'm sure lots of other women." She described how one of my books had made its way into the hands of a sweet woman she knew across the country—someone not LDS—who then gave it to another friend. "You don't know how your books are spreading and who they're going to touch. It's important, what you do."

I have to admit that there are lots of times I've wondered if there's a point to it all. I mean, sure, I get some fulfillment out of it. But really, what kind of drop in the literary pond are my books? This can be a rather discouraging market on several fronts, and it's easy to get buried in those many, varied issues.

I believe there's a reason I went to lunch with J. J.-Panda today. There's also a reason she's one of my dearest friends ever. I needed to hear her words, to have her bolster me and lift me up.

On a slightly different note—but one that dovetails with some of those LDS-market issues—I was sent this link today by Josi.

I'm ridiculously emotional today, apparently, because even though it's not a serious or poignant post, it almost made me cry because of the subject matter.

In short, it's about one of the many brick walls we LDS novelists find ourselves smacking our heads against all the time. What a delight to find someone who has taken down her wall and given us a chance.

I have no delusions that this particular brick wall (or all the other LDS book-market issues) will go away anytime soon, but today I'm feeling a bit more optimistic.

And I'm remembering that even if there are just a few readers out there that I've touched, made smile, or bettered a day for through telling a story, then my work does have a purpose.

That's not to say I wouldn't love to have an advance a fraction of the size Meyer gets. (It would be nice to, oh, pay off the house or something . . .)

But I'll try to be more content with where I am, because maybe there really is a reason that I'm here. For J. J.-Panda, at least. Thanks, babe. I needed that.

Coming Spring 2009 . . .

It's official!

My next book, titled Tower of Strength, has been accepted for publication and will be released next spring.

My fourth temple-related book, it's set in 1884 Manti, a few years before the temple there was complete. Much of the story centers around events (both real and fictional) that took place in and around the city's Temple Hill.

I love the title they picked; Tower of Strength can refer to both the temple (the towers are under construction during the story) as well as the heroine. Tabitha really is a tower of strength, and that plays a huge role in the story.

This book has been an interesting ride. I loved uncovering the story and characters. I struggled with some of the research. I laughed. I cried.

And in the end, I'm excited for my readers to meet Tabitha Chadwick and get to know her for the strong woman she is . . . even if they have to wait almost a year before meeting her!

Spires Quote #2

Another Spires of Stone quote of the day!

Yesterday I used one from Bethany.

Now it's Ben's turn:

"I thought I had trained him well and that the effects would last. Yet what does he do the first chance he has when we return? Fall over his own shoes because of a girl."

I Met My Artist

If I had known ahead of time how great today's signing would be, I would have been too giddy to sleep last night.

Signings in general are a tough animal. I'm an introvert. I'm shy. It's tough to get out of your shell and talk to perfect strangers.

Fortunately, I'm not as uncomfortable doing them when I first started out—and that's not just because in 2002 I was doing book signings 8 1/2 months pregnant, swollen like a beached whale—but they're still not exactly on my top ten list of favorite activities.

Frankly, they're exhausting—you have to be "on" for two hours straight, smiling and being energetic (if you know me, the gal who spends hours each morning in her PJ's, that should tell you something). Sometimes I feel like a used car salesman as I pitch my book to customers who really came in to buy a baptism gift and have no use for me. Or I feel like a carnival freak show that everyone's trying to avoid looking at. (There's just something about a book signing table that makes people avert their eyes and run for cover.)

But today was different!

For starters, it wasn't just me braving the crowds. Two tables graced the walkway where the BYU bookstore stationed me. I shared mine with the delightful Suzie Roberts who wrote a cookbook about freezing dinners beforehand (something I think I need with my family's growing hectic schedule!).

Down the way a bit was the second table, with Chad Hawkins (who I tried picking temple research brains with) and Matthew Buckley (a really funny guy who has a rather smiley countenance,which I didn't expect, since I had only ever seen his oh-so-serious picture). Then Marsha Ward, who is in town for Education Week, stopped by, as well as author (and now BYU MBA student) Rob Wells. Not only that, but my Relief Society president came over between classes to say hi.

I didn't feel lonely at all! And I even sold quite a few books. How many, I'm not sure, because I was really enjoying myself, so I didn't count how many this time. Usually I have a mental tally going on. Even better was getting a good dozen comments from people walking by who stopped after seeing my covers, then said something like, "I've read those. I loved them!" I don't think that has ever happened so many times in two hours. Hearing it was gratifying and yes, fun.

At one point over the PA I heard a voice announce that Al Rounds was upstairs. I about hyperventilated. I was unaware of his name three years ago, but since then it has meant a ton to me. He is the artist behind all of the temples on my book covers. (William Whittaker is the artist behind the women on them). I have loved and adored all of my historical covers, and for a long time, I've wanted to meet him and express my admiration for his work.

I ditched my table and ran to meet him. He had just left his table to be part of a presentation, but I was informed that he'd be back soon and that my signing ended well before he'd be leaving for the day. Pumped, I returned to my table. But when 1:00 hit, I went back upstairs.

Al Rounds is one of the sweetest men I've ever met, and he seemed glad to meet me after contributing three paintings to my books. (He had imagined me older. Yeah, I get that a lot with these cheeks . . .)

Over the course of our conversation, I dropped a few big hints about which two temples I'll need next . . . not exactly placing my order, but sort of crossing my fingers, because I'd hate to reach a point where my covers don't feature Al Rounds.

If you're interested in seeing the full painting that the the detail on Spires of Stone is from, visit here. The painting is entitled, "City Creek," but in my cover you can't see the creek part, because the girls are in front of it. I have a secret hope that maybe someday I'll own a small print of each temple of his that has graced my covers.

Speaking of Spires of Stone, no, it wasn't at my signing today. It should reach stores in a week or two. (Woohoo!)

And just for fun while we wait, from now until it's on shelves, I'm going to post quotes from the book.

Here's one for today:

"I will personally never understand the fascination with the other half of our species, but if one of them makes you happy . . ." —Bethany

My New Wrapper

It's so close, I can almost taste it! In just over a month, Spires of Stone will be officially released.

Even better, I now have the cover image, which is always a moment to remember: first seeing how your baby will be "wrapped." This one's a bit different than my last two, being as it has two women on the cover instead of one. I asked for that, since the book really has two heroines, and I didn't want to pick between them as to who would be on the cover.

Do they look like the characters in my head? No. But that's okay; who can see into my head anyway? I've had the fortune to have all of my historical covers with beautiful artwork on them, so I'm not about to complain.

As for a little about the book, here's the backliner (that blurb thing you read on the back of the book!):

Bethany Hansen wasn’t sure when or if she would ever see Benjamin Adams again. She also told herself that it didn’t matter. But when Ben and his two brothers come home after more than two years of serving a mission to the Eastern states, her feelings of heartache and anger also return—fiercer than ever. And so do Ben’s feelings for her.

Good-naturedly, Ben’s brothers attempt to reunite the two, even as they separately vie for Bethany’s younger sister, Hannah. What follows is a charming historical romance complete with wonderful characters and witty dialogue that explores the redemption and power of finding—and rediscovering—true love.

And here are what some other authors have said about it:

In the spirit of Much Ado about Nothing, Spires of Stone is a wonderfully rich story that will linger in your heart and mind long after you’ve finished reading it.”
—Michele Bell, Author of Perfect Timing and A Candle in the Window

With intrigue, love, redemption, and characters you’ll cherish, Spires of Stone will capture your heart.
—H.B. Moore, author of the Out of Jerusalem series

The construction of the Salt Lake Temple provides an illuminating backdrop for this story of romantic love, scandal, sacrifice, forgiveness, and reunion.
—Kerri Robinson, coauthor of A Banner Is Unfurled

A witty and well-crafted historical romance that will leave you wishing it were twice as long.
—Jeffrey S. Savage, The Shandra Covington mystery series

I hope readers enjoy it as well. As Michele Ashman Bell pointed out above (and as I hinted in a previous post), the book is somewhat of a retelling of Much Ado About Nothing. That said, the characters took on lives of their own, so there are parts that veer away from the original, especially in the last half.

When the release date's closer, I'll blog about how I morphed Shakespeare's story and characters to fit 1867 Salt Lake City. Some people have asked me why certain characters have the names they do, and some of that is a misunderstanding of which Shakespearean characters they actually represent. So I'll clarify some of where my head was when I wrote it.

In any event, this is probably my most light-hearted historical, with more humorous scenes than any other. I had a ball writing it, and I hope readers will enjoy it, too!

I Hate Faulkner

So that's a slight overstatement. I don't completely hate Faulkner. He has some works I like, and I do appreciate his skill and, yes, even his brilliance (hard not to as an English major, when you've read so much of his work). My personal favorite is "A Rose for Emily," one of the best short stories in existence.

But there are moments when I've had to wonder what the heck he was thinking and wish I could slap him upside the head.

Such is the case with The Sound and the Fury. With apologies to Oprah and everyone else who puts that book on one of their top five, such as a good chunk of literary scholars and university people (including English majors—so I hope my own don't disown me), the book sucks.

Here is my never-quiet opinion as to why.

I know some people think Faulkner was downright brilliant with it, as if he was seeing how far out on a limb a writer could go before the branch itself broke off.

But explain to me how it is brilliance to write a book where it's just a literary exercise, where the reader gets no joy in it? That's like saying a ballet is brilliance where the audience sits around and sees the ballerina do nothing but exercises like amazingly deep plies and grand jetes across the stage for an hour. The audience gets bored to tears.

Oh, wow. She's a great dancer. She's got an amazing turnout. But where's the ballet?

The Sound and the Fury, from what I've gathered, wasn't particularly popular in its day. It's much more popular now, when literary critics and scholars like to pick it up and tear it into pieces and say, "Wow! Look what a genius Faulkner was."

Pllllh, says I.

I personally think Faulkner was showing off rather than telling a story in the most powerful way possible, which is plain old bad writing. A writer's first responsiblity is to his reader: How can I tell this most effectively, in the way that will most impact my audience?

I want my reader to feel, to laugh, to cry, to love, to feel angry. Not to wonder what the heck is going on and be constantly pulled from the page, remembering that the writer in the one pulling the strings and that it's really a book, not another world.

Faulkner never once lets you forget that this is a B-O-O-K.

Plus, he was intentionally trying to confuse the crap out of the reader. There was no earthly reason he needed to name that many characters the same name, let alone characters of different genders. There was no reason he needed to jump around back and forth in time so much—especially without alerting the reader of the time transitions so the reader doesn't know when or where he is, and so on. He didn't need to have pages and pages of no punctuation or capital letters. (Call it a stream of consciousness style if you want. I call it annoying.)

Stupid, stupid book. I'm glad I've read it so I can say I read it. After I did, I looked up some commentaries to make sure I did, in fact, understand it—and was rather pleased that, yes, I did grasp what he was trying to do and he didn't pull the wool over my eyes, hallelujah.

(Although as I was reading it a couple of years ago, my son asked what it was about, and I told him I wasn't entirely sure, that it was kind of confusing. And he responded with, "Well, what do you THINK it's about?")

The author part of my brain kept thinking how much more effective some of these scenes could have been if he had just written them straight out normally—because Faulkner, when he wanted to be, really was a great writer.

But I think he got so in love with his own genius and skill that he sometimes also got caught up in doing acrobatics and forgot the power of telling the story and the responsibility he has to his READER.

End of rant. :)

Next time, I'll finally get around to answering a question posed by an anonymous commenter about how I got into article writing.

Until then, happy summer vacation!

Also, I just have to mention that my upcoming book, Spires of Stone, due out in September, is going to press in a few days. YES!

Book Shopping Spree

I got my family doctor nearly thirteen years ago, well before I ever got published. As a result, he's sort of been watching my publication journey from the back seat. In addition to delivering all of my children, he knew when I got my first book contract and always asks about my latest projects any time I come in.

He's also the head of our local library's "Friends" organization. A few years ago, he needed a judge for a writing contest the Friends were sponsoring. I agreed to be one of the judges, and have done so each year since.

You can probably see where this is going. Pretty soon being a judge became being a part of the Friends of the Library. I now attend periodic meetings that the Friends of the Library hold every couple of months. We host events and do other neat things for the library. It's a pretty neat organization.

A week or so ago I was at another Friends meeting. The head librarian wasn't in attendance, being at another meeting doing Head Librarian things. The children's librarian was there, plus my doctor, and several other Friends board people who had been roped into membership by whatever means.

One of many decisions we made was way cool: to add a collection of digital audio books on these iPod-like devices, one book per device. You check out the little device, add a battery and your own earphones, and off you go. They're very cool, and much less likely to be destroyed than CDs so they'll last longer, yet they cost about the same per book.

The trick was deciding which titles to start with. The library needs about 50 to get the collection up and running. The children's librarian didn't want to pick the titles, being as she's swamped with other duties and just doesn't have the time.

Everyone else at the table seemed to have a deer in the headlights look, sort of a, "Don't look at ME!" expression.

But me? The idea sounded like the ultimate in book shopping, like walking through a bookstore with an unlimited credit card. Are you kidding me? I get to shop for FIFTY books? Any fifty on this list? COOL! Maybe it's the English Major in me. Maybe it's because I've read a lot and that I know a lot of books. I don't know. But I thought it'd be neat.

They practically threw the list at me. I trotted home with the list and showed my husband.

He glanced it and said, "As long as you don't pick Bleak House," and grinned.

He knows I love Dickens.

I couldn't wait to sit down with a bunch of chocolate and look over the pages. The only tricky part was not picking just my favorites (which was tough--I mean, there were THREE Jane Austen titles on the list. Must . . . be . . . strong . . .).

I had to be fair. This wasn't just for me, after all. This was for the library. I had to pick a selection that a lot of people would enjoy.

That meant both adult titles and YA titles, classics and new releases, fiction as well as non-fiction. So I did some searches on amazon.com to check some books I was unfamiliar with, made sure I got a several award-winners, some that were plain-old must-haves, and so forth.

The result, I think, is a well-rounded start.

And yes, I threw in Bleak House. I couldn't resist.

NOT an Anne Freak

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

But I am not an Anne of Green Gables freak.

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

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

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

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

Forget Anne; I was Lucy Maud Montgomery!

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

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

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

And if I'm being perfectly truthful, Anne doesn't even make the top three of my favorite LMM heroines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

As a nod, I try to read one of her books each year. Up next? Anne's House of Dreams.