Signings in the Air

You can tell that Christmas is around the corner.

I know this in part because of the music on the radio and the decorations in the stores and the lights twinkling on the houses around my neighborhood. (Oh, and those insanely long lists my kids keep writing—and revising—for Santa.)

Another clue is that my book signing schedule has revved into gear. This time around, nearly all of them are Fridays from noon to one o'clock. This is intentional; with the busyness of the season, I need to keep the impact on the family to a minimum, and lunch time does that. (Apologies to those who prefer a weekend or evening hour!)

Starting tomorrow (Friday, November 30), I'll be on the signing circuit. First off will be at the American Fork Seagull, and then that evening way up in Logan at the Book Table for their annual Midnight Madness event. Heather Moore and I will be going up together, and there are always lots of other authors there.

Then every Friday between now and Christmas, I'll be at a different Utah Valley Seagull. Just check out the schedule on the sidebar there.

Please come; I'd love to see a friendly face!

More Dot to Dot

As I've mentioned before, I like to incorporate elements that connect my books to one another. The connections are always small threads, but I include them sort of like those "Easter eggs" you discover on DVDs, or a way for me to say hello to readers whether they recognize the message or not.

Just this last weekend as I had some holiday book signings, a store employee came up and asked about a young boy who appears briefly in Spires of Stone.

"Was that the Indian guy from your St. George book?" she asked.

I grinned. Yes, I told her. Yes, he was. His name is Abe. I'm so glad you caught it.

She clapped her hands and then turned to a fellow employee. "I told you it was him!"

I promised in that previous dot-to-dot post that my upcoming (and still untitled) Manti book would connect to Spires, but I was unsure for a long time of what the thread would be. I figured it out a few weeks ago as I was finishing it up. One character from Spires shows up briefly in one scene in a way that makes sense for him to be way down in Manti instead of Salt Lake City.

(I'm realizing that I need to clarify how old he is now, because this book takes place quite a bit later than Spires did.)

It'll be fun to see if readers notice him for who he is.

The other day another connection dawned on me, sort of a duh moment. Generally, I connect a book with the one that was released immediately before it. But this time a second possible connection occurred to me, so I'll be adding it.

This one will jump backward a couple of books, connecting Manti with my first historical temple novel. The thread will be in chapter one.

When this book is released, keep your eyes open for Lizzy from House on the Hill as she shops on Main Street.

I've Been MIA

I've been off-line for a little while. First it was the Chocolate Show craziness and then preparing to host Thanksgiving for my siblings, and then the big day itself. (Got to have the entire family over, plus have a web chat with the parents from the other side of the planet. Good times.)

Three highlights from the non-holiday time:

1) I had the opportunity to read Michele Paige Holmes's second book as she prepares to turn it into her editor. If you've read Counting Stars, you will have read the opening chapter of this book, as it was included at the back of that one. Remember Jay? This is his continuing story, and what a ride it is!

I loved it, and I'm sure her readers will too.

2) I did a bit of digging and found a couple of resources for my next project. This was a relief to me, because the temple I'll be writing about doesn't have nearly as much written about it as the others have.

3) The other--and somewhat less enjoyable--big thing I did was do a deep-cleaning on my girls' room. Ugh. The room is packed more than it should be. We're turning a former bedroom into my new office, and while we wait for that to be done, I'm still in my old office. That means all three of my girls are crammed into one bedroom.

We thought it would be a 3-4 week thing. They could handle it that long. That was in June. Yeah. Life's been busy. (I'll have to post pics of my new digs when the place is done. Can you say "built-in-bookcases"? I can't WAIT!)

In the meantime, however, having three young girls, three beds, three times the toys and garbage and artwork and silliness all in the same room tends to create a monstrous-sized challenge. It's not as if they aren't required to clean their room regularly, but if Mom isn't involved, certain things don't get a good cleaning. Toys end up under the bed. Garbage Mom would have thrown out gets pushed into corners. Dress-ups get mixed in with regular clothes. And so on.

I'm not sure how many hours we worked on that place, but in the aftermath, I carried out eight grocery-sized bags of garbage plus a good armful for the recycle bin. I'm sure I could have found more to clean (under one bed wasn't totally cleared out, I'm afraid, and we didn't organize the desk drawers, either).

We also spent time cleaning up the basement play area for when the cousins played there after the feast. Again, I'm not sure how much time I spent on that (certainly not as much as the girls' bedroom), but it was longer than the 3.8 seconds it took the crew to trash the place when they descended on it.

All in all, it felt good to get rid of all the garbage, to set things in order--even if it didn't last long.

But truth be told, it has also felt a little weird over the last week and a half to not sit down and write or blog. I've been under self-imposed deadlines for literally months, and now . . . nothing. It's intentional; I'm letting myself rest. But part of me has looked around, wondering exactly where I put myself.

I'll be taking a few more days off of the heavy stuff until I hit my manuscript revisions.

But I can't guarantee I won't be visiting blogland in the meantime.

VIP Winner

Short post--as you can imagine, it's a busy day, being Chocolate Show week!

But I had to congratulate Kimberly, whose story was selected as the VIP pass winner.

CONGRATULATIONS!

Her confession had me laughing out loud:

My husband bought a bag of lindt chocolates to have around as an occasional treat. I snarfed them all while he was at work one day (my three year old made me do it! I swear!), and promptly panicked. I loaded the kids in the car, drove to the grocery store, and bought another bag. I then wrapped the offending wrappers up in several grocery bags and pushed the bundle to the bottom of the garbage can. He never suspected a thing. And his sympathy over me feeling ill that night? Just a little bit torturous.

Since Kimberly's not in Utah, she's decided to pass the tickets to a good friend of hers who can use them.

I definitely plan on using more stories in future issues of The Weekly Chocolate Fix. (Want to subscribe? It's free. Click here.)

So Karlene and Amber will each get four show tickets, good for the expo on both Friday & Saturday.

Ladies, just let me know if you want those to be for THIS WEEKEND or for the 2008 show.

Now I'm off . . .

Hope to see some of you at the show!

We Are Vindicated

For pretty much forever, I've been the butt of jokes regarding my choice of college major: English. Few other majors get so many people poking fun. The sad thing is that in some cases, the teasing is warranted; a lot of English majors don't know what they want to be when they grow up or what they'll do with an English degree when they get it (flip burgers?).

Then there are those of us who know precisely what we're going to do with it. In my case, that meant being a writer. To remain practical, I also went into Secondary Education and planned to get a teaching certificate to be a high school English teacher. (I decided in the end to graduate sans certificate, but that's a story for another time.)

But even those English majors who were pre-law or had some other big career plan would get razzed about their major because so many people think that English is somehow easy and has about as much depth as cotton candy—that anyone could do it.

In fact, I had a close family member (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent . . . or, er, guilty) who was a manager at a company. When hiring employees, she rolled her eyes at anyone trying to apply with a degree as "fluffy" as English (her word, not mine—right in front of me, though).

During my last big semester of college, I had an American Literature class usually taken by seniors. Daring souls who were not English majors could take the class as an Arts & Letters elective, and the semester began with three such students in our class.

Within about a week, two of them had dropped the class because it was too hard.

(Can you hear my maniacal laughter?)

The final non-English student was (and I'm not making this up) pre-med. Not exactly a stupid person, right?

He stuck it out through the entire semester, but boy did he struggle. His returned papers looked like someone had dumped a bottle of red ink all over them. His tests were much the same. As the rest of us would review and compare notes prior to quizzes—discussing American Romanticism and Whitman, maybe—he'd say, "Huh? What does that mean? Where was that? I don't GET it!"

He was used to memorizing answers in science classes. Having to use an analytical side of his brain, find evidence and prove your point with words about killed him as he had to apply literary theories to works we had read. (If I recall, he also said things about the books like, "That chracter died? Where?")

The poor kid just scraped through the class, while I left each day smiling. The class was a challenge (yes, even for the English majors), but I loved every second of it. Yet it was brutally hard for him—and too hard for the other students who didn't even dare try to get through the course.

The pre-med guy is one reason I'll always remember that class; it felt good to see someone gain respect for what I had chosen to study.

Another reason I remember it is because of what happened mid-semester: President Hinckley became the new prophet.

For those of you who don't know, he was . . . dun-dun-dun . . . an ENGLISH MAJOR.

My professor, the beloved Richard Cracroft, had seen and heard plenty of put-downs about his chosen field just like the rest of us had.

I'll always remember what he said the day after President Hinckley was ordained:

"We have an English major as a prophet. We are vindicated!"

Amen, Dr. Cracroft. No one's about to mock that man's English degree.

Mission Complete!

I don't think I've ever posted twice in one day, but I just had to report.

In short: I did it!

My Manti book still rough in a couple of spots, but it's drafted. Everything is bridged and coherent. The story is complete. (Not sure I'm 100% satisfied with the closing scene, but I'll tinker with it later.)

The current word count is eerily close to what I predicted: 95,044.

I still need to finish up the historical notes section in the back and then go through the stack of papers lingering on my desk from my critique group before I give them the entire manuscript to some of them to hack apart.

But all of that can wait until Monday.

For now, I'm going to revel in the fact that I reached my goal of having this book drafted by Saturday, November 10, 2007.

And it feels good.

Now, where's the chocolate?

Such a Good Liar

Before I start, I have to remind everyone to send me their chocolate stories for a chance to win VIP chocolate show tickets We've gotten two really fun entries, but I want more, more, more!

As for the liar meme:

I don't know if I should be proud of this, but out of fifteen guesses, thirteen were wrong--and one of the correct ones (Karlene's) was just because no one else had guessed that one yet.

Here's the low-down on each of my four statements:

1. Once while camping in the High Uintahs, I stood too close to the fire one morning in an attempt to warm up. I locked my knees and passed out into the fire pit, effectively singing off my eyebrows and eyelashes.

FALSE. This is the lie. I took a note when Josi said that people usually don't pick #1. Tee hee. This actually did happen to Cathy, a childhood friend of mine. I was on the same camping trip, but in the tent at the time, so I just heard about it afterward--and saw her singed lashes. Surprisingly (as Don pointed out) she wasn't hurt otherwise, likely because so many other people were nearby and caught her quick. Our Young Women group went on a week-long backpacking trip in the Uintahs each summer (lovingly called, "The Powder Puff and Huff"). Some of the best experiences of my adolescence, bar none.


2. My senior year, I didn’t make it into our high school musical because the choir teacher thought I was a junior. He wanted to give more seniors a chance to perform before they graduated. Uh, whoops.

TRUE. I didn't find out the reason I didn't make it into the play until months later. It made no sense when I wasn't on the cast list, because I knew I was good enough to at least be in the chorus (I had no delusions about getting a lead role), and there were others who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket who were on the list (seniors, I might add).

Worse, most of my friends (being those uber-thespians I've mentioned) were in the play, so they all got to spend months together, leaving me to hang out alone because they had rehearsals and such. That holiday season pretty much sucked.

Then, a month or two after the play ended, I walked into the choir room and our teacher (a dear, dear man whom I still adore) asked how my testing had gone. I had no idea what he meant, but then remembered that the juniors had some state test that day. "Do you mean the junior testing?"

"Yes," he said.

"I'm not a junior."

He went pale. "You're a senior? Oh."

I didn't think much of it until after class when he called me into his office and apologized for not casting me in the play, telling me how it happened.

One of many reasons my senior year of high school was not exactly stellar.

3. For some totally weird and inexplicable reason, instead of continuing with French which I had taken in eighth grade, I took two years of Russian in high school.

TRUE. I even won some award at BYU's high school language fair with my Russian, which never was that good, especially accent-wise. But I still get a kick out deciphering the Cyrillic alphabet.

A random but somewhat connected tidbit: The third date with my future husband was at a mission reunion. He went to Czechoslovakia (when it still was that--now it's the Czech Republic). We sat around a table while one guy played the guitar and everyone sang Czech folk songs. It was freaky to see how similar that language was to Russian but in the Roman alphabet. I had a distinct thought that maybe this is why I studied Russian in high school--that this guy and I might end up going there as a married couple on a mission some day. Yeah. Third date. Being as I was all of nineteen at the time, it freaked me out a bit.

4. I've had four epidurals, one natural childbirth.

TRUE. I know, I know, this was sort of a trick question, which Josi guessed. Many of you know I have four children. With #2, the idiot anesthesiologist (Dr. Bob--I kid you not; that was his name) did the epidural wrong. Not only did he take about half an hour to place it (something that should take oh, a minute--and keep in mind here, I'm in agonizing pain as he's trying to place it during contractions), but I had bruises all over my back for three weeks after the fact.

Worse, he put it in the wrong spot, so it never took effect AT ALL. Not one tiny bit.

By the time my doctor realized the epidural was dripping medication somewhere other than my nerves and wasn't going to do diddly, it was time to push. At that point I pretty much flipped out and wished, wished, wished, I knew something about breathing and relaxation and all that. I remember holding my husband's hand and crying, "I can't do this."

But I did, of course. Somehow.

Dr. Bob came in afterward and apologized for the bad epidural in a way only he could: "I'll only charge you half."

Had I not been so wiped--and holding my baby--I would have jumped off the bed and punched the lights out of him.

I delivered my next two babies in the same hospital, but swore that if ever Dr. Bob darkened the door, I'd personally shoot him.


Now for the fun part: I put everyone's names into a bowl and had my 5-year-old pick out the winner of a copy of Spires of Stone. She selected (drum roll, please) . . . Marcia Mickelson!

Congrats, lady! Hope you enjoy it.

And for the next fun part, tagging people:

I'll go for three of my thespian friends, the only ones from that group I'm aware of who have blogs. They were all (of course) in the play that year, which was Auntie Mame.

Em at Downstage Left (Who played the amazing Vera; holy cow, she was hilarious, although I didn't recognize her at first with the dark wig.)
Sarah (also known as Brownie) and
Blondie (who just got her own blog--I believe this is her first tag. :D)

Chocolate, Chocolate, Everywhere!

For Utah chocolate lovers, the time is almost here. Next week is the 4th Annual Utah Chocolate Show! Woohoo!

Read part of the press release here, and then continue below it for a chance to win TWO VIP EVENT PASSES, worth $95.00!!!

(I usually don't indulge in lots of bold type and exclamation points, but this is a moment that warrants such enthusiam).

About the show:

Chocolate lovers of every stripe have waited all year for what has become a fixture on the state’s holiday event calendar: The Fourth Annual Utah Chocolate Show, November 16 & 17 at the South Towne Expo Center, with more to do, see, learn, and experience than ever before.

Some of the best chocolate that Utah and the U.S. have to offer will be there, including V Chocolates, Utah Truffles, See’s Candies, and Utah’s own bean-to-bar creator, Amano Artisan Chocolates, plus many others. Attendees can sample chocolates and enjoy show-only specials as they get a jump on their holiday shopping.

Specialty Classes that require pre-registration—a long-time attendee favorite—are back, as are free how-to demonstrations on the Gygi Culinary Solutions Chocolate Stage.

A Woman’sHeart.org, the show’s support platform for benefitting The American Heart Association in Utah, benefits their initiatives for women. The “I Love my Heart” 5K run/walk takes place Saturday, November 17, before the show opens that day.

Other new show features include a chocolate wedding cake competition display gallery and the Utah Loves Chocolate Photography contest, sponsored by V Chocolates. Young show-goers will be delighted by a special appearance by the Chocolate Princess on Saturday from 2 to 4.

An exclusive VIP opening celebration will be Thursday, November 15, the night before the 2-day main event. That evening, the “An Introduction to Fine Chocolate” tasting class will be free, and after judging by three of Utah’s foremost pastry chefs, chocolate wedding cake competition winners will awarded. A live-action Jeopardy!-style game featuring local celebrities will benefit the American Heart Association in Utah. Vendors will offer VIP night-only specials.

Main event show tickets are $7.00 each and are good for both Friday & Saturday. Children 5 and under free. VIP passes are sold only in pairs for $95. Tickets and passes can be purchased on the show’s website www.UtahChocolateShow.com, as well as at the door at their respective events.

###

Back? Good.

So here's the deal: One of my main jobs with UCS is writing the Weekly Chocolate Fix, a free electronic newsletter with fun chocolate trivia, recipes, show updates, and more. We award show tickets each week and chocolate prizes each month (the one for November is worth $50.00!).

Every so often, I throw in true chocolate confessions and funny chocolate stories--such as times when a mother steals from her kids' Halloween stash or licks the chocolate off her kids' toe. You know, the things real chocoholics do but don't really want to admit to.

That's where you, dear readers, come in.

Add your chocolate confession/story of no more than 150 words to the comment section (or email it to me: annette at utah chocolate show dot com).

You've got two big things going here:

1) If I select YOUR story to include in the next issue of the Weekly Chocolate Fix, you get the two VIP passes that are good for the VIP opening night celebration (which has tons of fun stuff not available at any other time--visit here for the low-down on the fun), but they'll also get you into the two-day show. And they're worth NINETY-FIVE BUCKS.

2) If I don't pick your story now, but DO decide to use it in a future issue of the e-letter, you'll receive FOUR free tickets to the 2008 show.

Really, folks, it's a no-brainer.

Now for the technical stuff: All submissions become property of the Utah Chocolate Show and may be edited for length and/or clarity.

To subscribe to the Weekly Chocolate Fix, click here. After the show, we always take a holiday hiatus before starting up again in January.

But please join us (both on the Fix and at the show next weekend)!

If you come, be sure to find me and say hello. And then give me chocolate. :)

True or False?

Tristi tagged me for a liar meme.

The idea is that I share some tidbits about me, ONE of which is not true. You guess which is the lie, and I’ll reveal the answer in a few days.

To sweeten the pot, I’ll draw one person’s name out of all the comments (regardless of whether they guess correctly) to receive a copy of Spires of Stone. Be sure I can contact you through your comment (or leave your email address).

Here are the four things. None are earth-shatteringly exciting, but hey, they’re mine. Somehow they’re mostly about my early years. No idea why; they’re just what I thought of.

1. Once while camping in the High Uintahs, I stood too close to the fire one morning in an attempt to warm up. I locked my knees and passed out into the fire pit, effectively singing off my eyebrows and eyelashes.

2. My senior year, I didn’t make it into our high school musical because the choir teacher thought I was a junior. He wanted to give more seniors a chance to perform before they graduated. Uh, whoops.

3. For some totally weird and inexplicable reason, instead of continuing with French as I had in eighth grade, I took two years of Russian in high school.

4. I've had four epidurals, one natural childbirth.

Guess away!

Grace Period

I'm crying "uncle" on my current writing challenge.

Realistically, there is no way I'll reach 95,000 words by Wednesday.

Several factors played into this, among them the fact that I'm not just drafting scenes anymore, but filling gaps, smoothing over sections, and sometimes deleting sections that no longer work. Just this morning I ended up cutting 500 words belonging to a brief scene that I now see doesn't need to be there at all.

Ironically, that's still progress. We're in the shaping and molding phase of this book now, which means that sometimes the total word count decreases before it goes back up again. But I've been working--really, I have--and consider it quite an accomplishment to have numbers officially assigned to SIXTEEN chapters. (If you know how totally spastic I write, that's impressive.)

Compound that with the fact that I think I'm coming down with a bug. Just sitting at the computer hurts.

Oh, the joys.

The upshot is that I'm giving myself a bit of a break. On the other hand, I really do need this puppy done soon in order to have time to get feedback from my priceless critique group and do necessary revisions.

Therefore, I'm revising the challenge (it's my challenge; I'm allowed): I'm giving myself until Saturday night (that's November 10th) to finish drafting this thing.

If I manage that, I'll have to treat myself to a long bath, a day of reading, or an ice cream sundae.

Update, 8:40 pm:
I now have chapters 1-19 labeled and several scenes fixed and working. Unfortunately, my net word count for the day is negative 180--the reason I'm not updating my word count on the side bar. When I have a word count higher than what's there, I'll add it.

Onward and upward!

On My Own . . . or on YouTube

In honor of the October writing assignment over at Cre8buzz.com, here is my contribution.

It’s not a witty essay or a piece of fiction—just something silly that the prompt brought to mind. (That’s what a prompt does, right? Bring things to mind?) Had I managed to have more than three seconds to think straight over the last two weeks, I might have written something really inspiring and literary.

Or . . . maybe not.

* * *

As I’ve mentioned before, I went to high school with a bunch of thespians. These are people who took acting and made it a lifestyle. Their favorite party games were acting games. (Ever played "In the Manner of the Adverb"?) Their favorite pastimes were viewing or participating in plays—or listening to Broadway soundtracks.

With their insane music ability, it was a snap to stand around a piano while one (take your pick; it could be any one of half a dozen of them) sight read music and the rest sang along in perfect harmony. (Except me. "Give Annette the melody" was their sympathetic mantra.) Their competitions weren’t of the football variety, but rather Region Drama.

Being part of this group was particularly interesting since I lived in a very tight shell of shyness. These people exploded that shell off my person—which was a good thing in many ways, if uncomfortable at times. It stretched me.

It was because of them that I auditioned for and performed in three community youth theater productions. It was because of them I started taking voice lessons and tried out for the school choir. It was because of them I found my interest in ballroom dance (which in turn led to meeting my husband).

It was also because of them that I ended up playing the temptress/blackmailer Desaray Cahoon one wintry night.

Four of the gang were on a double date and decided to make a soap opera video. They spent much of the evening writing out the script. Then they called the rest of our group over to film the thing. (Essentially crashing their date, but hey—we were all buds, and it was fun.)

The story began with one of the love interests getting smacked on the head by a rival, sending her into a coma. I’m fuzzy on the rest of the story—it made more sense on paper than it did on tape—but there was also a mute girl who is cured by the pure love of her teacher, including a delightful montage between them after they discover their love. They frolicked the snow in Em’s backyard.

And then there was the blackmailing scheme of which Desaray (moi) was a part.

But the scene that had us all in stitches was when Em—the one who loved the mute girl's teacher (who was in love with the mute instead of her . . . the whole thing was dreadfully soapy)—sang a tearful rendition of “On My Own” from Les Miserables.

To fully appreciate this, you have to understand Em. She’s a consummate actress. In high school she played about every leading role possible. She won the award as the best actor of her graduating class. She went on to get a BA and an MA in theater. So yeah, the girl could (and can) act.

She can be very intense in her performances, especially her dramatic ones. Which is what made her hysterical to watch when she would take humorous material and turn it serious.

To this day, I crack up whenever I think of her dramatic interpretation of the song, “Oklahoma.” I can still hear the emotion and intensity in her voice when she’d declare, “And the waving wheat can sure smell sweet.” She had us hyperventilating.

Take that passion, add a cup of melodrama, and throw “On My Own” at her.

During the taping, one of the pianists in the group (did I mention these friends were also ridiculously talented musically?) played the music while she sang the song with the passion no Eponine has ever expressed.

I don’t know how she kept a straight face; the rest of us were rolling on the floor trying not to laugh out loud and ruin the shot.

Afterward, we had a scream watching the soap opera—then we all declared it should be burned, because someone really could blackmail us with such embarrassing stuff.

To my knowledge, it never was destroyed. In fact, I’ve met people (friends of friends) who say they’ve seen it. Um . . . yikes?

So I’m a bit scared that some day it’ll make its way onto YouTube or something.

Fast forward many years: When I wrote the book that became Lost Without You, I dropped in an inside joke that only those friends would catch. Some of them reportedly snorted out loud when they came to it.

It was when the voice teacher in the book is first introduced.

Her name is Desaray Cahoon.

The Big 1-0-0

I feel like I've reached a milestone with my 100th blog post! In keeping with tradition, below is a list with 100 things about me.

1. With my children, I duplicated the family I grew up in: boy, girl, girl, girl.

2. I’m the middle girl.

3. My children don’t at all resemble my siblings.

4. Especially my son, a very mild child who hasn’t given any scars to his little sisters.

5. But my brother gave me a scar when he was being nice, not during the times he held me over the bannister, locked me in a closet, or threatened to kill me.

6. Thanks in part to being a secretary in college, I can type really fast, which is one reason I cannot write books long hand.

7. The other reason is that my handwriting is atrocious. I blame my older sister for that.

8. I have six screws in my jaw from a surgery when I was 16. Not the easiest way to fix your bite . . .

9. Recovery included having my jaw wired shut and being on a liquid diet. (Ensure, anyone?)

10. With my swollen face, I look like a demented alien in all my sister’s wedding photos, which was all of four weeks post-op.

11. But I never grew any wisdom teeth to remove.

12. I love hot cocoa, the Finnish Fazer blue milk chocolate bar, and Peter’s Burgundy. Among other chocolates.

13. In high school I broke out of my shell and auditioned for community theater.

14. As a result, I performed in Joseph (I swear, the first production of it I was ever aware of; following ours, they mushroomed everywhere and people got sick of it).

15. I also performed in Fiddler on the Roof and Into the Woods, back when I could actually hit a high b-flat without causing physical pain in listeners, which is why I got the role of Rapunzel, who hits a high b-flat almost every time she opens her mouth.

16. I refer to both of those plays in my first book, Lost Without You.

17. One of my favorite things in the world is hiking in the High Uintahs.

18. But I haven’t done that for over a decade.

19. I wanted to be a writer at the tender age of 8.

20. But I got serious about the whole thing with my first submission Labor Day weekend 1994.

21. That first submission was rejected. As were many others.

22. For years, my kids thought Mom just typed a lot.

23. When I published my first article, I enjoyed showing my byline to them. That’s when they finally “got” what I did at the keyboard.

24. I like ice cream flavors that include nuts, especially almonds and pecans. And caramel. And chocolate.

25. My eyebrow hair grows long and then curls upward. I have to trim my eyebrows with scissors to avoid looking like Gandalf.

26. I lived in Finland from the age of 10 to 13.

27. I attended the Finnish public school system and eventually learned the language quite well, although it’s very rusty now.

28. In my class a scrawny little kid named Mika led a gang of boys (who were neither little nor scrawny), and together they tried to beat up the American girl at recess.

29. His twin sister Mia and her friends made a human shield to protect me, even though they hardly knew me. She was bigger and taller than her twin brother.

30. Mia became one of my best friends from Finland.

31. Katri became the other. We’re still in touch. (Terve, lady!)

32. I had a paper route with them and Marjo, where we delivered free papers and ads to a string of apartment buildings.

33. I got pretty good at knowing how many papers belonged in each stairwell, racing up several flights of stairs and then shoving the papers into the mail slots on my way down.

34. I love Finnish summers, but hate Finnish winters, except for Christmas, which I enjoy over there almost more than I do here with all their parties, songs, and great FOOD, like riisi purro. Mmm, Mm.

35. I don’t have one favorite color, but I tend to gravitate toward deep greens and reds.

36. I took horseback riding lessons in Finland, European-style, complete with the little black helmet and the switch.

37. I was and am still terrified of horses.

38. Which makes writing historical fiction interesting, since you can’t get away from horses, which pulled all a major modes of transportation and were heavily involved with temple construction and farm work.

39. I still have the helmet and the switch.

40. My claim to fame is that I used to take jazz dance classes from Derryl Yeager, who once performed quite a bit on Broadway. He also played a certain villainous person in a movie LDS people are familiar with, as well as one of the dancers in one of my cult favorites, Girls Just Want to Have Fun. (He’s the one who’s told, “My, you are big.”)

41. I performed at a dance recital when Derryl danced with our entire class (“I Hope I Get It” from A Chorus Line. He played the auditioner/instructor). I was just behind him and to the right. Yeah, no pressure. I was so nervous I fell out of my double pirouette.

42. But I loved, loved, loved performing “One,” also from A Chorus Line, that same night. It freaking rocked. Even if my black nylons were twisted.

43. I can no longer do any kind of pirouette, split, or leap. Don’t ask.

44. I met my husband on a BYU summer ballroom team.

45. We were cha cha partners, and by the time he asked me out at the end of the summer, we were great friends.

46. Our height difference took some getting used to, because we had spent three months together with me looking four inches taller than I really was because of the Latin heels.

47. I’ve kept those silver Latin shoes all these years.

48. I still feel a little sheepish that I don’t remember the first time I met him. But I do remember my first impression: That he was a great dancer who could really lead, and I worked well with him.

49. We’re still working well together after 13 ½ years of marriage.

50. Knitting is a favorite way of mine to relax and unwind.

51. I took piano lessons for years but began with a pathetic teacher who messed me up (Musical theory? What’s that?), so to this day I can’t play well.

52. I look a lot like my older sister. In fact, our baby pictures are hard to distinguish.

53. She wears her hair short, so I figure I’d probably look fine with a short ‘do, but I’ve never cut my hair shorter than a bob because I’m too scared. Also because I’m too lazy to commit to getting a haircut every four weeks to maintain a short length and having to style it every day.

54. I stop traffic if I take all three of my adorably cute redheaded daughters out at the same time.

55. My parents consist of a Cache Valley farm boy and a metropolitan Helsinki woman. As a result, during their newlywed years, friends called them “Green Acres.”

56. I drive a green 1997 Dodge Grand Caravan Sport.

57. I get cranky if I don’t get enough sleep. I usually get close to 8 hours, but unfortunately, 8 hours isn’t enough for me.

58. I have a dental implant in place of one tooth, because I never grew an adult one in that spot. I managed to hang onto the baby molar for over thirty years, but when it finally bit the dust, the implant was necessary.

59. I prefer reading books from the Victorian Era and pretty much ignored 20th century literature as much as I could and still graduate as an English major.

60. Which may be why I also love writing about the 1800s.

61. I tend to be a bit of an L. M. Montgomery freak.

62. In 9th grade I even started a writing/book club and newspaper that revolved around her.

63. I had melodramatic friends in high school. I mean that both in the typical high school soap opera sense and in the literal theatrical sense. (Hi, Em, Sam, Thora, and all you other thespians!)

64. A group of us called ourselves “The Babes,”which quite frankly, was wishful thinking.

65. Except in one case, and they all know who I mean. We all hated it whenever guys would hit on her (we’ll call her the Thunder Goddess, for reasons known amongst ourselves) and completely ignore the rest of us. I mean, we were a HERD of available young women, for Pete’s sake. But she was always singled out. (Okay, fine. She was hot, and the rest of us, uh, weren’t.)

66. I am a cat person and grew up with many felines (among them Muffin, Jumper, Jumper II, Herman, Marvin, Spears, George, and Sable), but I don’t own one right now.

67. I seriously despise dogs. Okay, I also have a dog phobia of sorts, even though I grew up with two of them: a gorgeous and LARGE Golden Retriever who didn’t know his own strength and a fat, grouchy poodle named Taco who snapped at everyone except my older sister if they dared to so much as touch him.

68. I’m the tallest of my sisters by a smidge.

69. But none of us three sisters is taller than Mom.

70. My mother taught me how to sew, but I’ll never be as good at it as she is.

71. Sewing for me is now an annual event when I make my daughters Easter dresses.

72. All of the Babes thought for sure I’d go on a mission. So did I. In reality, all but two of us did, and I was one of those two. (No regrets—look what I got instead!)

73. But in some ways I had a mission experience by being the daughter of a mission president for those three years in Finland. I know all about the commitment pattern and zone conferences, and I know enough to blackmail several missionaries if I so choose. (Funny how they’ll spill stuff to a kid . . .)

74. I love food.

75. My metabolism doesn’t.

76. I have long, blonde eyelashes, so I look very different with and without mascara. (No eyes . . . EYES!)

77. I hate to sweep.

78. But I love a freshly-swept floor.

79. I had a writing course as an English major that was almost enough to make me start hating Shakespeare. We had to write 8 papers of increasing length, all about King Lear, but using different critical theories (Freudian, Feminist, New Historical, Rhetorical, Deconstructionist . . .). I wanted to strangle the teacher by midterm.

80. Fortunately, I managed to escape the class with few scars, and I still love Shakespeare, but you’d have to pay me large sums to read or see King Lear.

81. Because my feet resemble the arctic tundra, I sleep with socks on. Even in July.

82. I finished my bachelor’s degree work in June of 1995, a month and a half before my first child was due and two months before graduation ceremonies in August.

83. I actually graduated when he was two weeks old.

84. Cum laude.

85. I don’t mind doing laundry.

86. I love to take baths in the dark with a candle.

87. I used to budget my little sister’s allowance and then charge a quarter for an “accountant’s fee.”

88. I miss my parents, who are gone for a 3-year church calling. (One year down, two to go.)

89. Sometimes I mentally type what I think and signs that I see.

90. I get depressed easily.

91. When I’m depressed, I tend to overindulge in chocolate. (See #75.)

92. I’m cripplingl shy, which is something I have to battle when speaking to crowds, doing book signings, and simply getting to know my neighbors.

93. I have mild to moderate claustrophobia, which made walking through Hezekiah’s tunnel . . . interesting a year ago. Breathe . . . breathe . . . (Also see #5. Cause or effect on that one? Hmmm.)

94. I didn’t inherit Dad’s green thumb. I have a hard time keeping plants (including gardens) alive, but I grew up with the most amazing garden harvest every summer from Dad’s work.

95. I make a mean brownie. And a mean chocolate chip cookie.

96. According to my brothers-in-law, my homemade rolls are better than their mom’s—and I use her recipe.

97. But I wouldn’t attempt the rolls without my trusty Kitchen Aide.

98. Which I desperately missed during the miserable year we spent in a cramped apartment while waiting for our current house to be built and most of our stuff was in storage because building the thing was supposed to take 4 months instead of the year it actually took.

99. I love my house, so I guess that year was worth it.

100. I especially love the fact that I have my own writing office here!

Executive Decisions

I feel a little sneaky; a moment ago I wrote, "Chapter 6" at the top of a page.

Lest you think that makes no sense, I'll explain. Since I often write out of order, jumping ahead to scenes, coming back to flesh things out and bridge gaps--and since my first attempts at beginnings are rarely set in stone--I generally begin my chapters with plain old, "Chapter" until I know for sure that there's nothing missing before that one and it's clear where it belongs and what number it would be.

At least two months ago, I decided that chapters 1-5 were solidly in place and ready for their designations. In went "Chapter 1," "Chapter 2," and on through "Chapter 5." But looking at the next section, I wasn't sure.

I hesitated, going back regularly to look at it and thinking that I really should return to another character's storyline after Chapter 5 before continuing with Tabitha's situation, which was the next one written. But I didn't yet know if there was something significant happening at that point in his story to warrant a new chapter.

So, in typical skipping fashion, I'd leave it and go on my merry way to write something else. Every couple of weeks, though, I've returned to that spot and stared at it.

IS there something missing there? Or should I just continue from what is now Chapter 5 to the next scene with the same character?

Now I'm in the final crunch. I'm rereading the whole thing from page one, filling out and fixing things as I go (which, by the way, makes the word count CREEP up slowly and sometimes even reverse . . . but I AM making progress, even if the counter over there doesn't reflect it).

This morning when I came to the end of Chapter 5 and had the single word, "Chapter" staring me in the face, I remembered: Oh, yeah. I was supposed to figure out if a new scene belonged here.

What did I do? I left the computer and had lunch. I figured that maybe while I sipped some soup I'd be able to figure out what belonged there.

Lunch ended, and I had no brilliant flashes of insight. I'm taking that to mean that no, nothing belongs there, at least right now. If I tried adding something without knowing why it's there and how it plays directly to the main conflict, it'll probably be fluff.

I hate fluff.

So I sat down, planted my hands on the keyboard, and added a "6" after the word, "Chapter."

I feel so liberated. And a little like I got away with something, as if there's part of the story I decided to play hookie on.

As if it's not my story.

Writers are so weird.

Big Whitney News

We have a new development on the Whitney Awards front: Winners will receive cash prizes in addition to the actual award and all the acclaim that goes with it.

The award is becoming an exciting new entity in the market, and I am thrilled to have a seat on the sidelines to watch it happen.

One major purpose of the Whitney Awards program is to raise the quality of the literature we publish. That can only happen if the best of the best are on the ballot, and that can only happen if readers nominate books so they'll have a shot at being a finalist.

Once again I'm encouraging readers to nominate their favorite books published by LDS authors during 2007. Nominating is easy at the Whitney Awards website.

The following was announced just two days ago by the Whitney Committee:


PROVO, UT-OCTOBER 23, 2007

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

WHITNEY AWARDS COMMITTEE ANNOUNCES LARGE CASH AWARDS

The Whitney Awards Committee announced today that they will be offering seven large cash awards to be presented at the upcoming Whitney Awards banquet in March 2008. These cash prizes are due to the generosity of the Whitney Awards' marquis sponsor, ExclusivelyLDS.com.

Founded earlier this year, the Whitney Awards program is a non-profit organization dedicated to rewarding excellence among LDS authors. With the new sponsorship of ExclusivelyLDS.com, winning authors will receive up to $1000 along with their trophy.

The Whitneys offer a total of seven awards. The five genre awards (Best Romance/Women's Fiction, Best Mystery/Suspense, Best YA/Children's, Best Speculative Fiction, Best Historical) will each be accompanied by a $500 cash prize. The two overall winners, Best Novel by a New Author and Best Novel of the Year, will each receive $1000.

"We're very excited about the sponsorship with ExclusivelyLDS.com," Robison Wells, president of the Whitney Awards Committee, explains. "There is enormous talent among LDS authors, and every year seems to produce better and better novels. This is an exciting time to be part of the LDS fiction industry. Our hope is that these awards will raise awareness about the high quality fiction available from LDS authors, and to draw in new readers."

Over a hundred years ago, Latter-day Saint Apostle Orson F. Whitney declared "We shall yet have Miltons and Shakespeares of our own. . . . In God's name and by His help we will build up a literature whose tops will touch the heaven, though its foundation may now be low on the earth."

Anyone can nominate a novel published during the previous calendar year in any of seven categories, and a final academy of industry professionals will vote on the final ballot. Nominations are being taken for books published in 2007 by LDS authors at the Whitney Awards website: http://www.whitneyawards.com/

###

CONTACT:
Robison Wells
Whitney Awards President
robisonwells@msn.com
http://www.whitneyawards.com/
(801) 691-9115

Whitney Awards Committee
13 West Center
Oak City, UT 84649

More on Manti

First off, I have to say that the writing conference was terrific. Several other author friends were there, including Josi (my abosolute ball of a roommate) and Jules. My co-director for the 2008 LDStorymaker conference, Heather, was also there, and the two of us had our brains going the entire time in planning mode, noticing how they did certain things and getting new ideas for the conference.

It was also a great chance to learn some new things, refresh your mind on others, and just get charged for writing in general. I even squeezed a little writing in on my Neo.

I thought I'd post a little more about the Manti trip, since it was such a great day and my husband and I took so many pictures. (Trust me; I'll spare you most of them--like the dozens of headstones--but some are just too cool not to share!)

First, to address one question from last time: I have no idea why there used to be a tunnel through the bottom of the east tower. Wild tidbit for which I have to answer!

Now for a few new photos:

Here I am standing next to a marker for where the Little Fort used to be, built to protect the early settlers from Indians. The fort was built out of solid stone, and I'm guessing the rock here is one of them.

The west doors are huge. Here I am pretending to walk inside. I'm about 5' 5", to give you an idea of how huge these puppies are. A lot of wedding pictures are taken right here.



Now this one was way cool. Right up close to the wall on the southeast side (if you go up the staircase there), you can see where this one was snapped. You can still see tool marks on the stone--lots of different sizes of chisels must have been used on these stones. Some look almost pock-marked, while others seem sort of checkerboard-like. Each worker must have had their own style.



Last one today: the EAST side of the building, which is technically the front, but you almost never see this view, since it faces the hillside. I love the double staircase--which you can't see here at all (they're below the windows; you can see the very tips of the bannisters)--because I couldn't back up far enough. The hill was in the way.



I've had a few crazy days where I've fallen somewhat behind on my daily wordcount, but I will catch up. The Manti book is almost done. It's so close I can taste it!

(Sort of like the lunch hubby and I had at Gandolpho's. Yum . . . I had no idea they make such yummy chocolate cake!)

And may I say, I really love Tabitha? She's such a neat person, even if she is fictional!

To Manti We Will Go

A week ago I took a trip down to Manti for research purposes. While I've been there before, it's been several years, and I had never been there using my writer eyes, if that makes sense. I notice things in a very different way when I look at them as possible writing subjects, such as the many old homes still in Manti.

While I normally notice and enjoy things like that, I probably wouldn't remember any particular home after leaving. And I certainly wouldn't drive really slowly through the streets of Manti with hazard lights flashing, jumping out every so often to snap pictures of potential homes for locations in my story. Here are two buildings that will figure quite prominently in the book:





It was also good to be able to see the layout of the city and determine how far my characters would have to walk to get from A to B and whether my scene where I describe C could really have taken place where I put it (fortunately, that one works as I wrote it).

There are a couple of scenes I need to tweak already because now I have a new perspective on the area. For example, I hadn't realized just how close to the temple the cemetery is. The cemetery figures into the story, so that is helpful information.



The headstone below has an inscription that struck me as something I might use as well. The intriguing part is hard to read in the picture, but I jotted it down in my handy-dandy notebook, so we're good.



One thing that struck me about the cemetery is the mixture of very old and very new graves side by side. We found graves from 2007 intermingled with ones from the earliest settlers, headstones that were still shiny next to ones that crumbled and were illegible. Among the graves we found Edward Parry, the temple's master mason, and William Fowler, who wrote the hymn, "We Thank Thee Oh, God, for a Prophet."

A fun tidbit I recently learned about the Manti temple is that at one point (years after the dedication) it had a grand staircase leading up the hill from the street. The picture below shows where it used to be. You can tell by the gate opening that's still visible (but padlocked and unusable).



Another fun thing I got to see was the spot where a tunnel used to go right through the east side of the temple. People used to joke that you could "go through" the temple without a recommend. The tunnel was wide enough to drive through in a car. It has since been closed off, and at a distance, the spot looks like another window. A close-up view from the south, however, shows where it used to be:



We took a boatload of photos, and I have so many more I'll likely share here again soon.

For now, though, I'm heading off to pack an overnight bag, because I'll be at a writing conference until Saturday night. It should be a great shot in the arm--and a ton of fun to boot, since I'll be hanging out with some of my best writer buds ever.

I hope I'll get a little writing done while I'm there, but when you're sharing a hotel room with one of your best friends, there's a good chance girl chat will interfere!

Skinny Deb

I'm so darn proud of my sister-in-law that I have to brag on her behalf. She's too humble to do it for herself, so here we go:

Several months ago, Deb and I were chatting when she told me that she had entered a state-wide weight-loss contest sponsored by Kmart.

"Neat," I thought. "Good for her."

And I didn't think much of it again, but lo and behold, over the next several weeks, Deb started shrinking. I'd hear about her latest nutrition strategies and exercise routines. She'd even give me tips and pass along Slim Fast products that she got for free as a participant. (She preferred the non-chocolate flavors . . . something I'll never understand, as much as I love the woman.)

Suddenly she announced that she had won the contest for the entire state of Utah. For being the winner, she received a small cash prize and, if memory serves, a piece of exercise equipement.

After congatulating her and being horribly impressed, I didn't think about the contest again, because it was over now. But wasn't it great that she won? Of course, the state winners went on to the national level, but really, what were the chances of anyone going that far?

Then a few weeks later, I got a phone call from a very, very excited Deb, saying that she had just received word that she had won the contest for the ENTIRE country.

Yes, folks, skinny Deb is the grand prize winner of the 2007 Kmart New Day Your Way weight-loss contest!

Not only did she lose over 40 lbs (and she's dropped at least 8 more since the contest ended!) but she received $10,000, lots of fun clothes (many of which are now too BIG for her), a bunch of exercise equipment, and TWO trips to New York City. The first trip was last summer, during which time she and the runners-up got makeovers and were part of photo shoots to show off their new bodies.

I found out last night that she and the runners-up are finally posted on the New Day Your Way website, including a totally cool video that shows clips from all of the women. In it they talk about the contest and their journey. It also includes bits and pieces of their sight seeing and photo shoots. You'll see Deb sitting in Central Park as she talks about her experience.

Hop on over to the website here and check it out. Deb is the gorgeous redhead.

To see the video, click on the picture at the lower left that says, "Watch the New York Photo Shoot."

Yes, people, I am related to this wonder woman. (Okay, fine. By marriage. But I'll take it.)

Congratulations, Deb! You deserve this!

Made My Day

I'm probably not supposed to know this, but I found out, and so I'm excited and all that.

I'm officially in the running for a Whitney Award this year.

That doesn't even mean I'm officially on the ballot, but to me it's something to celebrate nonetheless. What it does mean is that at least five people liked Spires of Stone enough to nominate it for the award, so the book is officially on the list for consideration by the Whitney committee. I'm assuming I've been nominated under the Historical Fiction category. (And I'm up against stiff competition. I'm sure my good friend--and excellent writer--H. B. Moore will be nominated too, among several other authors.)

The folks on the committee get to read every single book that gets at least five nominations, and they decide on the finalists that go onto the ballot. Then the Academy, comprised of industry professionals (editors, bookstore owners, etc.) get to vote.

It's nice to imagine getting a Whitney at the big gala (held this coming March 22nd, immediately following the 5th Annual LDStorymakers Writers Conference). But regardless of whether I get one, it's exciting to realize that there were several readers out there already, only a month or whatever out from its release, who thought it worthy of the honor.

YES!

To put the cherry on top, I got an email from a reader just the other day:

You really should put a warning on the front of this book that is bright and can't be missed. It should say "Warning!!! Do NOT Start after 8pm." You see I started it last night at 8 pm and could not put it down! Therefore I was up until 4:30 a.m. Warn me next time!!! My mother and I really enjoyed Spires of Stone. We usually enjoy your books but you out did yourself.

Ya know, I'm half tempted to make a cross stitch of that one and hang it on the wall.

So Sara, I'll be shooting you off a personal e-mail soon, but if you happen to stumble on this here, THANK YOU for making my day!

In the meantime, if you've read a great book by an LDS author (written for the LDS or the national market) that was published in 2007, be sure to visit the Whitney Awards website to nominate it. I have a couple in mind that I'll be nominating for sure.

Writing Topsy-Turvy

The way I write comes as a surprise to many people, readers and writers alike, but I can't help the way I do it: I don’t write my books chronologically.

Yes, I do start at the beginning and go from there. Sort of. My beginnings have a tendency to be cursed. My critique group laughs at me because I’ll bring what I think is my first chapter with the heading reading only, "Chapter." I won’t commit to it being "Chapter One" until later, because way too often I’ve had to rewrite the chapter—several times, start elsewhere in the story, or (worst of all) trash the section altogether.

Once I figure out the beginning, I generally go on my merry way for several scenes or chapters. But then I can’t help myself; I always jump ahead.

While I don’t write strict outlines of my books with every scene and plot point pre-determined, I do have a general idea of where I’m going. If the plot has points from A to Z, I know what D, G, K, P, and W are. I also know Z. But I don’t always know how I’ll get from A to D or what will fill the gap between D and G. Or exactly how K will develop to that point.

And sometimes even when I do know some of these things, I get really excited about an upcoming scene at say, L or S, and want to write it now. So I do. I figure it’ll come out better when my creative side is on fire about it than waiting until I write another 40,000 words to reach the scene the "real" way. By then my excitement might have petered out, and the resulting scene will be watered-down.

When I fill in the gaps and bridge to the later scenes I’ve already written, some details will have changed, and those scenes that I wrote out of order must be revised—sometimes significantly, sometimes just a tad here and there.

As I’ve mentioned before, I do a ton of my drafting on the fly with my AlphaSmart Neo. If it weren’t for that trusty tool, I wouldn’t get nearly much done.

But with each book, thanks to my upside-down, topsy-turvy way of plotting it out, eventually I reach a point where can’t just sit down and spit out the next scene. I have to be in front of the computer with the entire manuscript before me. That way I can read for flow, see where the holes are and how various scenes need to interconnect, and so on.

As wonderful as the gadget is, I can’t do that on my Neo.

Which makes for difficult drafting of the remaining fourth or so of a book, which for me isn’t the ending fourth of the pages.

That’s where I am now. Some days I have a specific scene I can write on my Neo, such as yesterday, when I sat in the car and wrote as my husband drove us down to Manti for research. (way cool visit, by the way. I’ll report on that soon.)

But such writing jaunts are getting harder and harder as the spots I need to bridge are shrinking and the chronology needs to be clarified and smoothed out.

Which makes my current 4-week challenge, well, more of a challenge for me.

Yikes-a-moly.

Thanks to everyone who has wished me luck on this last leg.

If only my Neo could help me right to the bitter end . . . sniff.

One Down, Two to Go

You might have noticed the 4-week challenge on my sidebar, where I've been tracking my progress through my current manuscript. As you can see, my goal was to reach 70,000 words by the deadline (which was yesterday), and I made it, squeaking past the finish line around 9:10 pm with 137 extra words.

The challenge was Tristi's idea, and I'm glad I hopped on board, because it gave me the motivation and the accountability to keep moving forward, even on days when it didn't feel possible.

The problem now is that I still have to keep going on this book at the same pace, and Tristi's challenge is over. Now what?

The way I see it, I have two more challenges ahead.

I'm hereby instituting my own 4-week challenge, beginning today, October 10th, and ending on Wednesday, November 7th. Again I'll track it right here so that I'll just have to get it done to avoid embarrassing myself in front of the blogosphere.

Then I'll have edits and revisions to do, just in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas to stop by. Won't THAT be fun? Actually, I did this last year, too, and while it was a bit crazy, I did manage it.

Here's my goal for challenge #2:

By November 7th I will have this book fully drafted. At this point I'm shooting for about 95,000 words, which would mean 25,000 words need to be written between now and then. I'm hoping, hoping, hoping, this story doesn't go longer than that, or my challenge will be up a creek.

Assuming I reach my goal, challenge #3 will kick in: Turning in this puppy to my new editor (Hi, Kirk!) by Christmas.

After drafting, I'll spend a few days polishing, dusting, and fixing before printing it out for trusted readers to go over and hack to pieces on my behalf. I'll be doing the same to it (and likely to theirs; several of us are in the final stretch).

When I get their feedback, I'll spend a few weeks rewriting and revising before my self-imposed Christmas deadline. (I have readers asking me to write faster to get the Manti book out. See, people! I'm trying, I'm trying! This will give it a shot to come out next fall. Ish. Assuming I feel good enough about the final product to turn it in on time.)

At which point I'll collapse, wrap some presents, decorate a tree, curl up with some hot chocolate and White Christmas (Christmas ain't Christmas without Bing) and not even think about writing until the new year.

Or not. It's hard to turn off that side of your brain when it's been running full-steam for so long.

But maybe I'll take a couple of days during the break to get my kids' photo albums at least sort of caught up.

In the meantime, I'll leave up the old 4-week challenge results for a few days, just so I can see it and think, "Ah, I did it!" but I'll also have a new one tracking my word count from 70,000 to finished manuscript.

Wish me luck.

Inquring Minds

Since the release of Spires of Stone about a month ago, I've gotten a few questions posed repeatedly. Since I'm guessing that others have the same questions, I thought I'd answer them in one spot.

Here goes:

1) Are your historical books a series? (Do I have to read them in order?)
The simple answer: No. They're stand-alone books that can be read without having cracked open another one.

The slightly more complicated answer: At the Journey's End does take one character from House on the Hill and carry on his story. It's not really a sequel, but more of a spin-off. Rest assured, you can read his entire story without having read the other book. However, if you plan on reading them both, I suggest reading House on the Hill first so the ending isn't ruined when you pick up Journey's End.

As for Spires of Stone, it isn't connected to the other books at all as a sequel or a spin-off. It opens a good decade earlier than House on the Hill and only briefly features two characters from the other books, but those are merely cameos, more of a hello to readers than anything. It stands alone.


2. Did you include this story in Spires of Stone? What about this one? Or this one?
Probably not. Two reasons.

First, the construction of the Salt Lake temple took a whopping 40 years. To use more than a tiny fraction of the stories involved would have made a history text rather than a novel. My goal is to tell a good story where the history serves as a backdrop. I never want to resort to spoon-feeding a history lesson.

Second, I purposely pick elements to portray that not everyone talks about. I want readers to discover neat stuff they didn't know before, and generally speaking, that means not retelling the stories that have been told a thousand times before.


3. Why didn't you tell more about the construction?
The biggest reason is again, the scope of the construction. If a building takes four decades to complete, good luck finding a few months at any point where lots of dramatic events happen. Alternately, trying to tell a story that encompasses many years doesn't usually work. My plot required only a few months.

So I took what I felt was one of the more interesting points in the construction and focused on that: when the second foundation is finally above ground level, and the period when Brigham Young closed the quarry. (Read the book to find out why he closed it; how's that for a cheesy plug?)

Plus, photography plays a significant role in the story, and I couldn't have the technology too advanced for my purposes. All of those elements made me zero-in on a few months of 1867.

But I do flash back to another part of the construction (when the first, cracked foundation is being ripped out). Plus, the epilogue takes places 25 years later at the capstone celebration, another big-time history moment.


There you have it: the most frequently-asked questions about Spires of Stone so far. If you have any others, drop me a line, and I'll answer.

Buzz Going Big

Exciting news!

The networking site I've been hanging out at, Cre8buzz, is going semi-public on SUNDAY.

That means anyone can hop on over and browse through the place. Check out profiles in whatever area you're interested in, discover new blogs and site and so much more.

For a little bit longer, actual membership will still be invitation-only, but I still have invites I can pass along (just give me a holler--and your email address--and I'll shoot one off to you).

Cre8buzz has been a ball (even if it does feed my computer addiction . . .), and it's only going to get better.

I could try to explain how it works and what's so great about it, but I thought I'd just send you over to the Farmer's Wife (someone I met, yep, at the Buzz), who explained it oh-so-well.

Go read her blog about it--and then on Sunday jet over to the Cre8buzz site to check it out!

I'm a Computer Addict

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem.

But somehow I don't think doing that much is anywhere near finding a solution. I discovered just how intensely I needed the computer when I couldn't get onto it.

Today after getting hubby and the three oldest out the door, I had a few minutes to fold a load of laundry, get another load going, take a shower (and wash my hair--darn it, I should have done that yesterday; I could have used the time I spent drying it) before getting my preschooler into the bath, dressed, and into the car for a dentist appointment.

While there, I (of course) pulled out my Neo, knowing that this might be the one and only shot I'd get to write today. 45 minutes later, she came out smiling (impressive, since she got some baby cavities filled), and I tucked away the keyboard.

I threw a granola bar and a baggie of fruit snacks at her so she could eat on the way to her buddy's house, where I dropped her off in time to jet over to the Alpine Country Club for the Seagull Book manager's meeting and (YES!) lunch.

The meal was divine, possibly made even better than it would have been by the fact that I was starving (my breakfast having consisted of a pumpkin chocolate chip cookie . . .).

Following lunch, during which time I chatted with store managers and met a talented artist, we retired to the next room, where I got to speak to the managers, helping them get to know me, my work, and especially anything that might help them promote Spires of Stone to their customers.

It's the one and only time my Best of State medal has left my house since I won it; I thought it would be fun to show, since some people have wondered what that consisted of. Yes, it's an actual Olympic-style gold medal. Pretty snarky. It's been neat to hear managers and store employees say that knowing an author has won an award makes customers more willing to give them (me!) a try.

I wish I could have stuck around and heard the other authors, among them my good friend H. B. Moore, Stephanie Fowers, and Sariah Wilson (who I noticed sitting behind me but didn't get a good chance to actually say hi to--HI SARIAH!--since we've never officially met).

After speaking, I rushed back to the car, picked up my cutie preschooler, and hurried to our next stop: the elementary school, for parent-teacher conferences. The great news is that they were both short and to the point: my girls are performing above grade level and are behave like model students. The only complaint? One teacher suggested my 5th grader speak louder. (Not the most common "goal" made at these meetings; usually aren't they, "Please be quieter"?)

Again, we jetted from there to the next place: the junior high, where my poor son had to wait for me to get him since I had been waylaid at the elementary school.

After getting people settled with homework and piano practicing, I practially RAN to the computer. I turned it on, tapping my foot impatiently for it to boot up. I don't know the last time I got to the computer this late in the day. I could practically feel DT's coming on as the email program loaded and for a dreaded second seemed to freeze. (The humanity!)

But I didn't have much time on said computer. I managed to check a few emails and print out what I would be taking to critique group tonight before I had to be Taxi Mom again and run DD10 to orchestra practice. After a few minutes at home transferring the scene I wrote at the dentist's office to the computer and pasting it where it belonged (and updating my word count on the sidebar with the challenge there), I had to pick up said daughter from orchestra.

Now I'm writing this, but I really should be cleaning up the kitchen and making dinner, because my critique group will be descending on the house in hour--and trust me, the kitchen isn't a pretty sight right now.

So why in the world did I feel compelled to spit all this onto the screen this very second? I'm strapped for time, I have lots to do--and GUESTS coming over.

Simple. I'm an addict.

Gotta blog. Gotta e-mail. Gotta write.

Maybe tomorrow I'll get around to vacuuming upstairs like I had hoped to do today . . .

AFTER I get my computer fix.

"Twins" Revisited

One of my earliest posts here was about my long-time friend Sheryl. By long-time, I mean since we were all of four-and-a-half years old, when my family moved two houses down from hers. We spent so much time together growing up that we both practically had two homes.

At a recent lunch (see my last post), I finally remembered to get a picture of the two of us together.

Since I'm guessing most readers didn't read the original, here it is again (although now the time period involved is twenty-nine years . . .), along with a photo of the two of us.

Now you can answer the burning question for yourself:

Do Sheryl and Annette look alike?

What do you think?

Originally posted August 4, 2006:

Since it’s been happening for twenty-eight years, you’d think I’d be used to it now, or at least I’d be able to figure out why it’s happening. But no.

When I was four it made some sense for people to mistake Sheryl and me for sisters, twins, or each other. It doesn’t take much for two chubby-cheeked, strawberry blonde little girls with pig tails to look alike. Have them play together a lot, and they’ll naturally end up acting and talking like one another.

But when our baby fat melted away and my hair lost any trace of strawberry (Sheryl kept hers) and mine was a plain old dishwater blond, people still thought we looked alike. Maybe it was the pigtails. We still wore those.

The worst case of the identity mixup was around second grade when I took dance lessons. The studio picked you up for class in a van and dropped you off afterward. I had gone to my first dance class the day before, and now my sister had hers. The van pulled up just as Sheryl crossed my lawn to come play. The driver assumed the girl had to be my sister since she looked like me.

When he tried dragging her to the van, saying, "Come on. You don’t want to be late for class," poor Sheryl thought she was being abducted.

The look-alike thing continued all through high school. When people saw our prom picture, they’d say, "How neat! Twins taking twins to prom!" Not quite. Twins taking a pair of childhood buddies to prom.

On Sheryl’s birthday our senior year, I passed out dozens of suckers to the student body with instructions to give them to Sheryl and wish her a happy birthday. If they didn’t know who she was, I’d say, "She looks like me," and immediately I’d get, "Oh, yeah. I know who she is."

By the time we went to college, we were adults with our own hairstyles, fashion tastes, different heights, and different majors. But I’d still get high school alumni yelling across the BYU quad, "Hey, Sheryl! How ya doin?" I’d wave back and make a mental note to tell Sheryl that so-and-so says hi.

Sheryl and I have since married and had kids. We live apart and see one another maybe once a year. Not long ago I arrived at the school with my kids to see a lady who had grown up a street away from me. Our sisters and mothers were both great friends. Immediately her face lit up and she said, "You’re a Stringham!"

I laughed and said, "Close. Two doors down."

We keep finding new variations of the old theme, like with my sister, who has always insisted she could never see the Sheryl/Annette resemblance. Recently at church, she reached down for something and saw a woman across the room—upside down from her vantage point. "Wow," she thought, "That girl looks like Annette." When she righted herself, she realized it was—you guessed it—Sheryl, who was visiting for the day.

Or the time Sheryl’s son saw my picture in the back of one of my books and declared, "Mom, she looks like you."

But the most unusual variation came last April [2006] when my friend Jeff Savage came to speak to my ward book club after we read his House of Secrets. His wife, Jennifer, came along. I’ve known Jen for years, and never once had we ever gotten asked what we were that night:

"Are you two sisters?"

We looked at one another and with a laugh, shook our heads. I took another look at Jen and thought, "Wow. I never noticed that Jen looks a lot like Sheryl."

Which means . . . Oh.

Sheryl and I used to joke that some day we’d end up in the same nursing home as old ladies and be able to fool the nurses.

Ha. Like we’d still look alike in another fifty years. What are the chances of that?

With twenty-eight years down so far, the chances are looking better all the time. We might as well start planning how to really have fun switching places and confusing the nursing home staff.

Just so long as they don’t mix up our medications or give me her enema.

Okay, folks, now here's the picture, taken just days ago. Do we look that much alike?

Hmm. I've kept the cheeks (as we all know . . .) and she's lost hers, but maybe there's still some resemblance.

Dedicated Babes

Long, long ago, on a distant fourth of July, eight overly-dramatic teenage girls spent the day together. Some were already close friends in various groupings, but they had never been together like this, although they all knew one another from school or church.

They followed the big Freedom Festival parade in Provo, not standing in one spot and fighting the enormous crowds, but rather walking the route against the parade. They spent the time chatting, laughing, and being all-out silly, and ended at one of the girls' homes near the end of the route.

Deciding that they were very, very, hungry, they piled into a van and headed out to a local restaurant, not realizing that fighting parade traffic is worse than facing BYU game traffic. A couple of miles and about two hours later, they finally arrived at Training Table and stuffed their faces while bonding over cheese fries.

And thus "The Babes" were born.

I can literally attribute much of who I am today to the years I spent with the Babes. We've gone through enough drama to fill up a year's worth of Soap-Opera Sundays and not finish, but through it all we've remained friends.

That original lunch was (dare I do the math?) more than sixteen years ago. While we're somewhat spread out now and don't get together very often, we keep in contact on some level throughout the year. We rarely get together in a group; usually it's two or three of us at a time.

But today was special, so I tried to get as many together as possible. Why? I wanted to honor their long-time influence in my life. Part of that came because of all the fun we had seeing movies together, including Much Ado about Nothing, which, if you've paid any attention here at all, you know that Spires of Stone is based on.

So if you open up the front of Spires, you'll see that it's dedicated to, yep, The Babes.

Those that were able to make it came to my house for lunch today, and they each got their own copy of the book. Of course, three of us are missing from the picture (okay, fine, two of them live a couple of states away; I guess they can be excused), but getting five out of eight together isn't too bad.

Em, I made your brownies for dessert in honor of your absence. Granted, I know you couldn't eat them had you been here, but we thought of you. And yes, they were delicious.

Abnormalities of a Writer

I've got a wooden sign on my office wall made by Josi that declares the following:

I will NOT live like a NORMAL person. I AM A WRITER!

Truer words were never spoken.

A few pieces of evidence that indicate that no, I am NOT normal:

-I carry a book with me. Everywhere.

-My list of "to be read" books grows exponentially faster than my "books I've read" list.

-I have shelves lined with 3-ring binders that include research ranging from the history of denim to colic in horses.

-My bookshelves also include many classics.

-Nearby are titles that are not exactly classics: books about poisons, fraud, weapons, forensic medicine, the criminal mind, and even one on Snoopy's word of wisdom on writing.

-I think semicolons rock.

-I hear news stories and start coming up with other "what if" scenarios, imagining characters and possible conflicts that could spin off from today's headlines. I imagine what it would be like to be there myself. Or even try to get into the bad guy's head and (to me, what's more interesting) wonder what the HECK was HE thinking?

-Some of my favorite people don't exist. And never have.

-I talk to these people, and they talk back.

-I read aloud to my kids or my husband and interrupt myself to go, "Wow. Now that's a cool image."

-I fall asleep at night thinking about storylines, conflicts, and lines of dialogue.

-I catch myself making weird facial expressions and gestures at the computer in an effort to explain them on paper.

-When something bad happens to me (like when I broke my nose recently), I pay special attention to the details because you never know what might be fodder for a book.

-I prefer typing to speaking. I can always go back and revise, erase, and edit words on the screen. Not so with words spoken--and all too often they come out wrong.

-I have a hard time reading books purely for the pleasure of it.

And my personal favorite from just yesterday:

My preschooler demonstrated why her copy of Watch Your Step, Mr. Rabbit! was in the kids' bathroom: She sat on the toilet, and with her pants around her ankles, which dangled in the air, she opened up the book, saying, "See? Now I'm like you, Mommy."

Yes, folks. I admit it. I read magazines in the bathroom. These include things like Writer's Digest, publications that I write for (or what to write for), and so on.

It's called multi-tasking, right?

Buzz, buzz, buzz

I've been spending a few weeks now at a really fun social networking site. It's different than Facebook or MySpace, and I'm really enjoying it. Yes, you have a profile, but there's so much more, from your site blog to your regular blog to photos to podcasts, and the ingenious rating system.

I've found people I never in a million years would have before (including a completely awesome Brit gal living in Finland. (I KNOW! It's like my second home. What are the chances?)

I'm chilling with several other writers as well, some published, some not. Some in my market, some not.

But there are communities for everyone, whether you're in business, electronics, sports, art, or want to classify yourself as a mom or dad. You get to visit other profiles, read their stuff, and vote for how great you think it is. Others do the same for you, which is one major element in determining your "buzz rank," which in turn helps other people find you and see how truly amazing you are. :)

(You can see my buzz ranking on the sidebar widget there--right now I'm #2 in Fiction. Whoop, whoop.)

While the site, cre8buzz.com, is in beta (and therefore not open to the public yet), I still have some invites I can send out for those interested.

Even better, the Women's group is wide open. You don't even NEED an invite to get there. Just click here. My blogging buddy Brillig has a goal for the Women's group to reach 100 members by the end of today (that's Friday, September 21). Since she helped point a few writers toward my community to help it grow, I'm returning the favor.

So here's the deal: If you're female and interested in being part of the Cre8buzz Women's community, go to the link and sign up. Note that you can always switch your profile to another community down the road if you decide you'd rather be in Moms, Photography, Running, or, well, WRITERS.

And if you'd like an invite directly from me, let me know! That means guys, too, who well, can't use the link. :)

Calling Book Clubs

It's up! We've created a new section for my website especially for book clubs.

So far we have all kinds of fun stuff for book club use geared toward Spires of Stone, including a trivia quiz, discussion questions, an author interview, and even a character comparison between Much Ado about Nothing and the book.

Most of the information is also downloadable in PDF form, so you can print out the trivia quiz and pass it around (and award chocolate or something else awesome as a prize for the person who remembers the most about the book!).

On the "For Book Clubs" page, click on the cover of the book. For now Spires is the only one complete, but we'll be adding book club fun for all of my other books in the near future.

You'll also find tips for creating a great book club and some titles of books I love that I think provide great fodder for book club discussions. I plan to add recipes for book club refreshments as well.

For those living near me (essentially the Wasatch Front), I might be able to come to your book club. If not, I may be able to "attend" via telephone. Arrange for either of those from my website as well.

If you or your book club have any questions about the book, my research, or whatever, drop me a line and let me know, and I'll do my best to answer. Reader questions and their answers may end up on the website as well.

Writing Challenge

About a week ago I joined Tristi's Book in a Month Challenge. For me, I'm not trying to finish a book, just keep plugging along at a steady pace and hit the homerun stretch by the time we're done.

So I'm calling it my 4-Week Challenge, and to keep myself motivated, I'm reporting my progress on the sidebar: The date the challenge ends, my beginning word count, and where I am so far. With any luck, that kind of accountability will make it happen.

When it's over, I might do another 4-Week Challenge to actually get the book finished.

On a different note, my foodie side has to pass along a recipe I used last week. On Friday I had the opportunity to visit the South Pointe Deseret Book store with author Gale Sears. The two of us brought breakfast. We met the staff, ate food, and talked about our newest releases. Lots of fun.

My contribution to breakfast was homemade muffins, and if I say so myself, they turned out great. But I have to give credit where credit is due. I got the recipe from Luisa at Novembrance, using her "Mother of Invention Muffins" recipe. I highly recommend you check it out and play with it. She had three substances you can switch around.

Here's what I used:

Substance A: Grated zuchini.

Substance B: Sour cream.
The options in the actual recipe are buttermilk, milk, or water. Since I sometimes use sour cream as a substitute in another recipe, I thought I'd give it a shot here as well.

Substance C: White flour.
I personally would have preferred at least half whole wheat or all whole wheat, but I know not everyone does. As I was making these for other people, I thought I'd play it safe.

Another change that I made shouldn't be a huge shocker for anyone who knows me. Instead of dried fruit or nuts, I decided to throw in chocolate chips.

Great for curling up with a good book, especially now that fall is around the corner!

Spreadin' the Love

The first book review of Spires of Stone is in!

A snippet:

Taking her theme from Shakespeare's "Much Ado about Nothing," Utah Best of State Medalist Annette Lyon weaves a tale of romance, tragedy, and humor that takes on a life of its own as the characters step out of their molds and spin the story a whole new way. The third in Annette's temple series, but her fifth novel overall, it's easy to see why she has such a devoted following of dedicated readers.

Thanks, Tristi!

To read the full review, click here. At the end, you can read some of her other reviews of my books as well as an interview she did with me awhile ago.

And to keep the happy vibes, flowing, I'm going to shamelessly promote buddy James Dashner's new blog. I've told him this many times, but I'll say it again. The guy has one whacked-out imagination! This translates to rip-roaring stories that literally kept my kids begging me to read "just one more chapter." Since books three and four of the Jimmy Fincher Saga have short chapters, it got hard to tell them no.

Coming in March is a new fantasy series, The Thirteenth Reality, and buzz about it is already starting.

I'm sure I'll be up late reading it aloud to my kids just like we were with Jimmy's adventures.

I'm on TV!

Or, I will be.

Tomorrow (Friday, September 14) I get to have a little fun in front of the camera. Randi from Park City TV is having me come on their Mountain Morning Show to talk about Spires of Stone.

I'll be on at 8:30 am (Mountain Daylight Time).

For those not in the Park City area, you can still "tune in" on-online through live streaming on their website. From the home page, just click on "Watch Now."

Exciting stuff!

Now I have to figure out what I'm going to wear . . .