The Office

Not the show. MINE.

The back story: We moved into this house four years ago. (We moved to this CITY almost five years ago. That year in the stupid, cramped apartment is a nightmare best forgotten . . .)

When we picked out this floor plan, one of the main floor bedrooms was identified as my future office. Yippee!!! I couldn't wait! But I had to; see, we still had a little person in a crib. While the other kids were old enough to sleep in the basement (with a monitor so paranoid Mommy could hear them sleep), the littlest one used that future office as her bedroom until she was a big enough little girl to venture downstairs for the night.

So what would end up, someday, being my oldest daughter's bedroom has been my office for the last four years. It was odd recently thinking about all the work I've done in that "temporary" space: I wrote a good chunk of House on the Hill in it (although I began it in our previous house and did some work on it in that stupid, stupid apartment). I did all the edits and proofs of it in that office.

At the Journey's End and Spires of Stone were born there as well, aside from the jaunts I took with drafting on my Neo elsewhere. I remember one all-nighter I pulled with a Spires rewrite deadline down there. Oy. What a memory.

Drafting Tower of Strength (to be released in April, if you're keeping track). I remember times of writer's block and when the flow just came. I remember creating this blog. Researching and revising. Coordinating meeting with my critique group. E-mailing with the LDStorymakers. Getting good publishing news and bad publishing news. Of planning this spring's writing conference.

Man, so many memories.

And yet, in a lot of ways, I detested that office. It was relatively dark, being a basement room. And although it had a decent-sized window, the sun came through it at just the right angle to blind me, so I generally had the blinds drawn. I felt like I was in a freaking cave half the time.

I never decorated it (or really organized it, for that matter), because it was "temporary."

I never thought that would mean four years.

But the littlest one is downstairs now. All three girls are squeezed, sardine-style, into the same room during the renovation and switch. My (real!) office has been painted. It's got a gorgeous walnut floor and built-in bookshelves that hubby made himself. The trim is to die for (and I'm a teeny bit proud that I did the caulking myself . . . if you knew how much tools and I dislike one another, you'd be very, very impressed).

I've got a great rug (actually, a two: a rug and a runner). My desks are moved upstairs. My computer is hooked up. Moving my books and files took the better part of a week. (And dejunking the old office was a bit shocking . . . holy cow, HOW did I manage to collect so much GARBAGE?!) The most recent addition was Honey hanging up the door yesterday.

I still have to put up pictures and organize a couple of last things.

In the meantime, now that I've moved out of the basement, we're working on what will be my oldest daughter's new room. One wall needs another coat of paint, and then we have to touch-up the trim a bit, but then we're moving her in. It will be happy day in the Lyon house when that happens.

I'll be posting pictures soon, not only because finishing up these projects has totally usurped my summer so far and I want something to show for it, but because I'm so dang thrilled to have the office of my dreams. In a weird way, I feel more like a "real" writer now. Plus, it's also nice that I'm a bit for accessible to the kids and even to the front door.

(Before, even though I was ten feet from the door . . . but in the basement, if someone rang the doorbell, I'd have to dash across the basement, take the stairs two at a time, and I might still miss the person. Now I can meander slowly and get there in seconds!)

Hubby has been taking pictures of the entire process, so you'll get to see before, during, and after shots. (Can you tell I'm giddy?!)

I can't wait to experience the memories that this office will hold for me. What plots and characters will be born here? I can't wait to find out.

As Brillig would say, the place is frickin' brackin' awesome!

Rewrites and Catch-ups

When the writing conference was over and done with, I had two weeks to get my Manti book rewrite done and turned back in to my editor. (The illustrious and rockin Kirk, seen below during his workshop at the conference. The man is my new best friend.)

It was going pretty well . . . until a cold smacked me upside the head and laid me out, well . . . cold. I bought an extra two days, recovered (for the most part), and turned it in late last night.

What I should have done was buy three extra days, see, because when I got the extension until Tuesday, I didn't look at the calendar. Therefore, I didn't realize that yesterday was not only the day I help in my third grader's classroom, but I had a dentist appointment for a crown (and I'd already rescheduled with my dentist several times) AND a birthday lunch with one of my bestest friends ever. And my daughter's choir concert was that night.

Hahahahahaaa!

To make my promised deadline, on both Monday and Tuesday I woke up at 5:30 am to get some work in before the kidlets woke up. This all by itself is monumental. I should get an award. Seriously.

I value my sleep higher than even chocolate. Leaving early the warmth of the covers and the softness of my pillow is just not an option for me. Heather has gone weeks at a time waking up in the wee sma's to get writing done, and I've envied that. I just cannot wake up that early and still function.

The fact that I walk around like a zombie on less than 8 hours of sleep also factors into the equation. I could easily sleep 9+ hours every night if I had the time.

Whether I behaved like a normal human being for the last two days is in question, but I did get up early, and I did turn in the book on Tuesday, as promised. (Granted, it was hours past the time Kirk had left for home . . .)

The one great thing: I'm really loving the way the book is shaping up. There were elements that were okay before, but with Kirk's guidance, I was able to knock them up several notches. From characterization to plot to pacing, the whole thing just feels stronger and better. YES!

Now that the rewrite is done, I have other projects and deadlines looming ahead of me. Of course. That's the crazy kind of person I am.

But before I delve into those, I thought I'd do a few other things I've missed out on lately:

• Get a way overdue and much-needed hair cut.
• Cut the kids' hair. (If my son doesn't get a cut soon, he's going to start looking like a sheep dog.)
• Make a decent dinner (one that doesn't involve something frozen that's baked on a cookie sheet).
• Do the laundry. (I fear my children are running out of anything to wear to school.)
• Go grocery shopping. (Alas, I had to miss out on my Grocery Game list and sales for this week. There just weren't enough hours in my days. I think it's time I visit Costco.)
• Clean a few toilets. (And touch up the guest bath for when critique group members descend tonight. I'll pretend it's been clean all week.)
• Make the bed every day.
• Get dressed before noon.
• Go to the library (renew the book I've had for four weeks and haven't had time to read).
• Mop.
• Sleep. (At night. But also get naps during the day. Fine. Who am I kidding? Like that's ever going to happen.)
• Run miscellaneous errands (make an exchange of a defective product, get milk money quarters from the bank, yada yada).

Some of those will happen today. Most will happen over the course of the next week or so. It takes me a while to play catch-up. Okay, so I'm frequently in catch-up mode and a bit frazzled.

I'm a writer. We're an eccentric lot, right? Right?

5 Random Thoughts

1) My son is going to grow taller than me in a few months. I'm so not ready for that.

2) The other day, DD5 proclaimed her requirements for the boy she will marry someday:

• He must like her.


• She must like him.


• He must like kissing.

When pressed, she admitted that making sure he's NICE would be a good idea as well. ("Like Daddy," she decided. Couldn't go wrong on that one.)

3) I've been an avid watcher of American Idol since the very first season. It's the one show hubby and I TiVo and then watch together, often when the little ones are asleep. This year the turbo-giant cell phone company, Nokia (based in Finland, my other homeland), is a sponsor.

Now you'll all know what a total nerd I am: I was so pleased to hear Ryan Seacrest pronounce the name of the company correctly; most people don't.

It's NO-kia, not no-KIA.

The stress of any Finnish word is always on the first syllable. Sheesh, people. It's not like it's an insanely difficult language. Oh, wait . . .

4) On a similar note, I've been brushing up my Finnish (once fluent but accented, now covered in brain dust) by reading the Book of Mormon in the language. I have the online English version in front of me so I can consult it when I come across passages that I don't understand.

I'm doing pretty well, except for those Isaiah chapters in 2 Nephi. If I don't understand it in English, what are the chances it'll make any sense whatsoever in Finnish?

That, and even though I attended Finnish public school for three years and could speak with the best the grade schoolers around, you decide how likely it was that I would learn the Finnish terms of things I run into regularly in the scriptures.

During just today's scripture reading, I had to check the English version to translate several words.

Among them:

• plow shares


• pruning hooks


• soothsayers


• Philistines


• idols


• chariots


• haughtiness


• moles


• bats


• nostrils

Yeah, those are words I used in everyday conversation when I was 12 . . .

Okay, I probably heard "nostrils" from some boy classmates. But the others? I don't recall any conversations involving soothsayers or bats.

5) And finally, because it's just too good NOT to post, here's next year's conference king, Jeff Savage, being a total sport after I "crowned" him with all kinds of goofy stuff like "gauntlets of courage" (silver oven mitts) and a crown my daughter helped decorate with foam hearts and glitter. (The red sleeve is mine.)

Close Friends & Conference Fun

I wish I had a picture of a particular moment at the LDStorymakers Conference. It was one of those times when your worlds collide, although it wasn't traumatic like when George from Seinfeld was at risk of being destroyed when Relationship George collided with Fun George, but it was a funky moment nonetheless.

After a session on Saturday, I walked over to a table to grab my things. Standing beside it were three people.

Jeff Savage, who has been part of my critique group for about six years, joining just a couple of months before my first book, Lost Without You, was accepted for publication. As the first man in our group, he's been a great asset. We finally had a guy to tell us when our men were acting like sissies. Of course, he's also known for his "Well, I really have just one comment," critiques. When you hear that, brace yourself. The "one thing" is probably major. And darn it all, he's usually right.

Here's a picture of Jeff at the Whitney Gala before presenting an award . . . giving a "talk." You can tell that the figures at the bottom are in their "pre-author" life, because they don't yet have their blogs . . . (That talk will go down in Whitney history. It was hysterical.)

Angela Eschler, my beloved editor who has been the one who worked so tirelessly on all five of my books. I'm not a person who deals well with change. Consequently, when she recently left Covenant, I came close to flipping out. (Fortunately, she left me in very good hands. Kirk totally rocks.) Below is critique group gal pal Michele Holmes at the Whitney Gala (left) with the amazing Angela.



And the last person of the trio was Sarah, one of the Babes that Spires is dedicated to. I've known her since the 8th grade when we started our L.M. Montgomery fan club. We were part of a tight-knit group of friends in high school, took creative writing together our senior year, and in college collaborated on a novel. She was the first person to give me honest feedback. As we wrote together, she freely told me when I had suggested something really dumb . . . and when it absolutely worked. The first time I tried writing a book on my own, I panicked; I didn't have Sarah there on my shoulder to guide me.

And we both have way too many things we could blackmail each other about.

Here these three people from very different areas of my life were standing together, chatting. I had to smile.

And then I thought about all the frightening stories they could share with each other about me.

I can picture it now:

Jeff: You should have read that pathetic opening chapter Annette brought to critique last time. I mean, really. Holy lame. Well, okay. The writing was good on a sentence level. Of course there weren't any grammar or punctuation errors. She's the stinkin' grammar police. But the overall arc didn't work. I really just had two comments. But if she takes my advice, she'll be rewriting that chapter for a good month.

Angela: And I bet she used a dozen semicolons. I can't count how many of those I've had to take out of her books, and she argues over every one of them. Touch-y.

Sarah: Just try drafting with her. [shudders] She's such a control freak. But she listened to me, at least most of the time. If she hadn't . . . man, our book would have been a sappy mess.

In all reality, each one of them represent an important part of my life, and I'm grateful for their friendships and the impact each one has had on my life.

As soon as I can get my hands on some of the other photos taken at the conference (since my own camera hung out at the bottom of my bag the entire time), here are a few I do have. If you've been reading other blogs about the conference and Whitney Gala, you may have seen several of them already.

Here I am right before the dinner at the Gala, with my sweet husband at my side:


With Whitney winners Michele Holmes and Heather (H.B.) Moore. All three of us began attending our critique group as unpublished but hopeful writers. It's amazing how far we've come.


Hard to see, but this is right after I read the winner's name for Best Romance/Women's fiction and got to give the award to the very-much deserving Michele. Also pictured is Lisa Mangum of Deseret Book.


Two years of conference "Queens." Heather and I flank Josi Kilpack and Julie Wright, who were the conference chairs for 2007. As the conference wrapped up, they presented us with big boxes of chocolate. They know me so well.

What a weekend!

That about sums it up. I’ll surely post more later (especially some photos), but for now, I had to just express some overall feelings from the experience.

The conference has come and gone. Jeff Savage (or J. Scott Savage, depending on which of his books you’re talking about) is officially crowned as the next conference chair—and is our first conference "king" instead of "queen."

The attendees were enthusiastic, the instructors fantastic, the food yummy, and everything else just great. Meeting editor Tim Travaglini and literary agent Jaime Chilton—and chatting around a table with them late into the evening—was definitely a highlight for me.

I’m so grateful to all the many, many people who helped us put the conference together. It took a small army of dedicated people to do it all. Thanks to all of you; you know who you are!

When the conference wrapped up Saturday, the hard part was over for me, but the Whitney Gala was still ahead. My husband, awesome man that he is, showed up with a dozen roses for me. (How cool is HE?!)

We got to sit at the same table with Whitney Award winners Josi Kilpack, Brandon Mull, and Jessica Day George. (The last two make me officially cool in my daughter’s book.)

I had the opportunity to announce the winner of the Best Romance/Women’s Fiction award alongside Lisa Mangum of Deseret Book. To my absolute delight, my good friend, Michele Paige Holmes took the award. I was supposed to remain neutral, but I’m sure the thrill I felt was plainly obvious in my voice and on my face when I read her name.

I can honestly say that winning an award myself wouldn’t have been any more joyful for me in that moment. I’ve been friends with Michele for many years, and I’ve seen the long, hard road she’s traveled to get where she is. I was so happy for her that I sat back down and promptly began crying.

Tears continued to be a large part of the night for me. Josi’s winning speech got me all choked up too, as did several others. While I’m sure part of my weepiness stemmed from a serious lack of sleep for three days, each and every tear that night was a happy one. Some people came up to me concerned that I was sad over not winning a Whitney myself. Truly, I didn’t expect to win, so I wasn’t disappointed when I didn’t. (I just hoped I’d lose to my other good friend, Heather Moore. And I did!)

But the tears were more than just happiness for good friends. Our table was dead center at the back of the room. As a result, I had a great view of the large crowd that had gathered for the awards. A lot of amazing people were inside those four walls. Some I’d go so far as to call legends.

As the evening wore on, I felt a surging sense of awe and privilege. That night represented the beginning of something very big. And I got to be a small part of it. I even got to be involved a tiny bit in its creation. I was sitting in the middle of a piece of history. The thought was overwhelming. I felt so honored to be in the company of those around me, to bear witness to the birth of something so much bigger than myself, something meaningful, something that I believe Orson F. Whitney himself smiled down upon.

After the 2007 conference, I drove home a bit sad because it was all over for a year.

This time, I drove away feeling uplifted, honored, and overcome. I cried for nearly half an hour as I drove, unable to believe that I . . . little ol' me . . . the gal who scribbled stories about mice in second grade . . . I was there. I am part of this amazing community that began as a simple e-mail support group and has morphed into a powerful force, where some of my dearest friends on the planet belong.

How did I get so lucky?

Like I said, I’ll post more about the conference and the Whitneys later. I’m still trying to finish the "re-entry" process with the family and (with any luck) catch up on some sleep.

And oh yeah—then I have a couple of deadlines to meet, because I get to write and publish books for readers of my faith.

Did I mention that man, I’m one lucky woman?!

(Oops. There go those tears again . . .)

It's HERE! And I'm Outta Here

Quick post today . . .

I'm doing the headless chicken dance today as I load up the minivan and get the family ready for when I leave this afternoon for the conference, which begins early tomorrow morning with Boot Camp.

As you can imagine, there's a lot to do while the kidlets are at school and before I drive off into the sunset. And when I do leave, I won't be back online until next week.

I'm guessing that a good chunk of my readers won't be checking up on me over the weekend, as they'll be at the conference with me.

However, a lot of Storymaker friends won't be there for one reason or another, and they were lamenting the fact. Some of the Whitney finalists are in that number. They asked, half kidding, half serious, if someone could please text message the results of the Whitney Gala as they happened on Saturday night.

Their wish was the Whitney Committee's command.

So here's the fun news:

Three authors who are attending the Gala (Matthew Buckley, Tristi Pinkston, and Jaime Theler) will be blogging live every step of the way.

If you won't be there, you can follow the awards ceremony online as it unfolds.

Check out the Whitney Awards blog during the Gala to see what's going on and who wins.

The dinner begins at 6:30 pm MDT, followed immediately by the awards ceremony. I imagine the bloggers will get started before that, however. Should be fun!

Following which, I'll be collapsing from an exhausting but (I'm sure) wonderful weekend.

See you on the other side!

The Countdown

It's ten days away for most of those involved, but it's essentially nine days away for me.

NINE.

ACK!

I'm referring to the 5th Annual LDStorymakers Writers Conference coming up next week, which Heather Moore and I are co-chairing.

Can I just say that I am eternally grateful that
a) I'm not in this alone and
b) that my partner is so capable and
c) that her strengths lie in all my weak areas?

As some readers may remember, we were "crowned" at last year's conference, so this conference has been twelve months in the making. The last couple have been the most intense, of course, and now it's almost here.

We're dotting i's and crossing t's right now, trying to make sure that there are no lingering ends left untied. (It's amazing just how many ends there are to check . . .)

Between now and then, I have a lot to do, for both the conference as well as for my personal life. For starters, I have to get everything ready for Easter before I drive off to the hotel, because by the time I get back, there will be NO time whatsoever for any of that.

The family is heading up to visit grandma while I'm gone, so I should probably help get little people semi-packed before I leave.

Several of the kids have activities that Mom needs to help prepare for, coordinate, or drive to.

And then there are the ponchos I'm trying to finish knitting for my girls so they can all match on Easter Sunday. (Key word: trying.)

In the middle of all this madness, I did something really stupid: I asked my editor about the status of my latest submission.

If you know anything about the writer's ego, you'll know what a really dumb move that was for a writer who is already under stress. The only possible good outcome would have been a response like, "It's Pulitzer-worthy! We loved it!" Then I'd smile and go my merry way, with a little boost to keep going through the next nine days.

I'm sure you can already see where this is going.

Instead of a declaration that I'm the next big thing, we're discussing revisions and notes.

Really, that's no huge surprise. With Spires of Stone I did two rewrites, went over oodles of notes with my editor (and granted, wanted to bang my head against the monitor numerous times), but ultimately came out the other end not only alive but with a much better book that was accepted for publication and is now up for a Whitney Award.

So why am I such a basket case? That would be because writers seesaw between egomania and self-despair all the time, and are capable of flipping between the two in a matter of seconds. My past publishing experiences with five previous novels notwithstanding, I still feel like the rookie just waiting for that next rejection letter telling me my baby is ugly and that I stink.

I should take a nice, hot bath tonight to help me calm down a bit. That is, if I could sit still long enough without checking e-mail for conference stuff, or going over my workshop presentation notes, or working on the table centerpieces, or sending the latest updates about the waiting list and lunch choices to committee members, or . . .

You get the idea.

Basically, I look like Chicken Little on serious doses of caffeine.

To cope, I bought two of the silver bags of Guittard milk chocolate chips. You know, the jumbo ones? Yeah. That should last me, oh, a day or so.

For those readers who are coming to the conference, I can't wait to see you. Once the big day is here, it'll be downright awesome, and I'm sure I'll be having a ball. I've been in touch with a lot of you, and I can't wait to put faces to names.

In all seriousness, the conference has been a huge shot in the arm for me every time. Last year I drove home a bit wistfully, knowing I wouldn't be able to experience it again for another year. Sure, there would be other conferences, but none are the same as this one. If you've come, you know what I mean.

See you in ten days.

A Very Serious Interview

Or not.

Some time ago, Luisa was interviewed on her blog with questions provided by a fellow blogging friend and offered to pass along the love.

I raised my cyber-hand (Oooh, oh! Pick me! Pick me!) and she has obliged. Below are her fun questions and my answers.

Thanks, lady!


1. How did you celebrate your first writing sale?
First, some back story: Our first VCR was a hand-me-down from my in-laws. My writing goal for years was to use money I earned through writing to buy a new VCR before that old one bit the dust for good—which could be at any time.

My first couple of writing sales were articles that were clustered together, so I used the money from them to buy a brand new VCR with—oooooh, self-cleaning heads and the ability to mark commercials! (I’m dating myself here . . . DVD players didn’t exist yet . . .)


2. How many writers does it take to change a light bulb? Please explain your answer.

Just one.

But it might take somewhere around 37 light bulbs to get the job done, because she’ll keep changing it, trying to make it just right.


3. You know the advice, "Sometimes you have to kill your darlings." Was there ever a scene or line that it really hurt to cut, but cutting it made the story stronger?

I remember one line in particular that I wanted to use in my first book, but my critique group hated it. I tried putting it somewhere else, because darn it, it was such a good line, but it just didn’t ever feel right. In hindsight, I’m so glad I cut it. It would have been mucho cheesy.

But in general, I tend to have the opposite problem—my critique group and editor generally come back with, “Why didn’t you include this scene? Or this one? Write about [blank].” And I’m always glad when I take their advice; those scenes have often become my favorites. I’ve heard the same thing from readers, who of course, had no idea that their favorite scene wasn’t in the original.


4. Fast food: yea or nay?
Yea if it means I don’t have to cook tonight.

Otherwise nay, especially on date night. Unless I’m in the mood for a strawberry slush from Sonic.


5. Do you have a secret skill that you never get to show off?
I’ve got one weird and useless skill that’s hard to explain in words (anyone coming to the LDStorymakers conference, corner me, and I’ll do it for you). I got it from my mom, and my sisters can do it to: Using nothing but air, you move your lower lip extremely fast in and out, to the point that it's almost a blur. It looks and sounds rather funky.

I can also crinkle my tongue so it looks like a 3-leaf clover.

I know; such an amazing set of talents.


To continue the tradition, if someone would like me to come up with interview questions for them, just raise your cyber hand.

I can promise you'll get them . . . but it won't be until after the LDStorymakers Writers Conference (which is coming up in about 2 weeks . . . holy cow . . .).