"Writing a Marketing Plan"

For the past few days I’ve been working on a marketing plan as a requirement of submitting to an LDS publishing company. Since I had no idea what I was doing, I did some research online and asked some of my writing buddies for advice. Here is the abridged version of what I’ve learned.

A marketing plan should look professional. Always use complete sentences and use the name of your book as often as you can. Be positive and confident. Don’t write things like, “I hope to be able to do book signings . . .” but rather, “I will participate in personal marketing events that include book signings. . .” List as many as you can.

A marketing plan should include the following headings and information:

Target Audience: This should describe who your audience is, why they will want to read your book, why your book is different from all the others out there and how you plan to reach your target audience. Always keep your target audience in mind and tell the publisher why they need your book. Do the research and be specific.

Goals: This is where you should list (full sentences) what goals you plan to reach. This should include how much time you are willing to put into marketing your book, projected sales and what you feel your book will accomplish for the reader. You may write something like, “Book Title will sell (amount) copies in the first year.” Or something like that. State what you hope to make happen through your book and your hard work. Be optimistic but realistic. Do research to know what numbers are within your reach and show you are confident this book will sell.

Objectives: (Action Plan) This is where you will list the actual marketing techniques you will use to sell your book AND yourself. Here are a few sample lines.

1 - I will participate in personal marketing events that include book signings, seminars, media interviews, writing conferences, book clubs and any other marketing tool that would increase sales.

2 - I will take full advantage of all internet networking devices such as blog book tours and contests, Facebook, Twitter, web page, book trailers, pod casts, etc.

Depending on what the publisher requests, this may have to have more detail than just a list. For example, if your book is non-fiction and is geared toward a specific audience, such as “How to Rebuild a Lawn Mower Engine,” you would want to tell the publisher about your expertise in this area and be more specific about your plan. You may list certain conventions or seminars and how big of a market you plan to reach. You get the idea.

Strengths: This is where you can brag a little. Tell them your education and experience in the genre you are submitting. You will want to tell them if you have experience speaking in public or presenting to large groups. Are you good with the public? Do you have access to a media source that would benefit your sales?

Conclude by stating your mission and purpose. Remind the publisher you are willing to do your part, that you realize books don’t market themselves and that you are willing to work hand in hand with them to make this book a success. Then thank them and sign your name.

At the bottom of mine, I also included my contact info, web site and blog addresses.

Well, that’s it in a nutshell. I’m no expert in this department, but that’s what I learned. If anyone else has any ideas or information to add, please feel free to do so.

Thanks to Lori Conger for all her help. A lot of the above came from her suggestions and advice.

"This Gave Me Goose Bumps"

I hope you enjoy this as much as I did. Have a wonderful Friday.

Jon Schmidt video has over a million hits. Look at it and you will see why. You can see more about that talented man by going to his website, http://www.jonschmidt.com

"CrAzY EiGhTs"

I really hate being tagged, but since my friend Ali insisted on doing it, I guess I have to be a good sport and play along. I will get even, my friend. :o)

Here be Da Rules:
1. Mention the person who tagged you.
2. Complete the list of 8's.
3. Tag 8 other bloggers.
4. Tell them they have been tagged.

Eight Things I Look Forward To:

1. Getting a big fat contract with a publisher
2. Don’t even want to talk about the weight issue
3. Camping with the family
4. Slumber Party in SLC next Sat.
5. Growing young with my honey
6. Starting my new novel
7. Signing my first autograph (I’ve been practicing)
8. Being successful as a writer

Eight Things I Did Yesterday

1. Woke at 3:00 am and couldn’t fall back to sleep
2. Chatted with my friends and got cheered up (needed that)
3. Went through my bedroom and filled a box for DI
4. Teased my husband about his shoe fetish
5. Finished Query and Marketing Plan
6. Picked up my son from Therapy
7. Found out there’s only one more day of school instead of 3
8. Read two chapters of a friends novel (which really rocks BTW)

Eight Things I Wish I Could Do

1. Be skinny, healthy and beautiful
2. Be a better mother to Joshua
3. Be more computer literate
4. Pay off ALL my debts
5. See a NY Broadway Play
6. Go on a Caribbean Cruise
7. Meet the characters in my book
8. Be a better writer

Eight Shows I Watch

1. Ghost Hunters
2. Medium
3. American Idol
4. CSI
5. Ghost Whisperer
6. Deadliest Catch
7. Survivor
8. The Unit

Eight Friends I Am Tagging:

1. Danyelle
2. Rachelle
3. Ronda
4. Valerie
5. Joshua
6. Cheri
7. Becky
8. Heather

And there you have it! Crazy Eights, lol.

"It's Time To Submit"

After months of writing, rewriting, editing and editing some more, it's finally time to cross that bridge and submit my manuscript to a publisher.

I've known this day was coming, but to have it here, staring me in the face, has made this whole process a little to real for me. As hard as the writing process was, I realized the amount of work yet to be done is overwhelming. I honestly think I'm more nervous about getting accepted than receiving a big fat rejection slip. How much easier it is to just sit at home in front of my computer pretending to be a writer.

While putting together a marketing plan, I realized the work that will be involved in promoting my book. Some writers have the misconception that you just show up for a few book signings, collect your check and get on with writing the next best seller. Nothing could be further from the truth. In order to sell your book, you have to be willing to sell yourself and that means being out in the thick of it, doing everything in your power to increase sales and make a name for yourself.

So, today is my day to put everything together and say one last prayer before sending my baby out into the big bad world of publishing. Any added prayers from all my writing buddies out there are welcome.

"Tuesday TOOT with a Tease"

My TOOT: I finally finished editing my book, "Taming the Heart". YIPPEE! Of course, I know once an agent or editor gets their hands on it, there will be much more work to do, but for now . . . I BE DONE!

My Tease: Here's a little bite for those who want to read it.

He was right about the paralysis. It only took a few minutes for me to regain the full movement of my limbs and push to a sitting position. Under me lay a large animal skin I guessed to be bear. I ran my fingers through the long dark fur, enjoying the way the warmth of the fire soaked to the depths of it and took away the chill coming from the cold earth below. I rubbed my eyes and gathered my hair to one side to brush away a few remnants from my encounter with Octavion, littering the legs of my jeans with bits and pieces of the forest floor as I swept them from the tangled mess.

A slight evening breeze shifted, sending a puff of smoke into my face. I pulled the neck of my t-shirt over my nose, then let it fall again when the air cleared and I could breathe deeply. I blinked hard to keep the remaining haze from burning my eyes. Unfortunately, it did nothing to help snuff out the questions that smoldered inside my head.

How could I have known Lydia for over three years and not sensed something was different about her? Not only did she have a brother with the temperament of a pit bull, but a sister who obviously meant to do her harm. And then there was her face, the change in her voice and the strength and agility she exhibited—showing no hint of fear. How could I have missed all that?

As the questions continued to plaque me, a log shifted within the pit, sending sparks in my direction. I quickly jumped to my feet, shook out my hair and brushed my hands down the front of my clothes to make sure stray embers hadn’t burrowed through to singe my skin. My sudden movement triggered something in the trees to stir as well. I stepped to the other side of the fire, putting the flames between me and whatever had made the noise. I reached down and took a large branch in my hand to use as a weapon, but nothing came. Instead there was just silence and an uneasy feeling I was being watched.

I looked over my shoulder in the direction Octavion had gone and seriously considered following, but the uncertainty of what I would find or what would be chasing me kept my feet in place—at least for the moment. My plans changed when I heard Lydia’s eerie scream. It didn’t echo through the trees like before, but sounded like she was yelling into a wooden barrel or bucket—a chilling noise that sent me searching for the source. By the time I reached the edge of the clearing I’d dismissed my intruder, putting my back to the fire.

Another muffled scream drew me deeper into the forest, this time squinting to find my way. I hadn’t gone far when I came to a large outcropping of rocks and boulders jutting out from the side of the mountain. It was barely visible; the drastic contrast of the cold grey stone against the night was my only beacon. I ran my hand along its smooth surface as I made my way around the formation—each jagged crevice marking my progress and increasing my pulse.

Another cry rang out—followed by the painful moans of my friend. I was close. I was certain a few more steps would bring me to her aid, but the sudden snap of a twig tainted my plan. As I slowly turned, keeping my back pressed firmly against the solid stone wall, I could hear something growl just beyond the trees. I tightened my grip around my flimsy weapon, grateful I hadn’t left it by the fire. As my eyes finally set on my pursuer, I was taken aback. Standing not ten feet in front of me was a white Bengal tiger; his long fur glowing bright in the darkness. He let out a ferocious roar, bearing his long white fangs and razor sharp teeth. I tried to scream, but fear had seized my throat, letting only a high-pitched squeal escape.

The beast stepped closer as another long deep growl vibrated through the ground and into my chest. His piercing blue eyes locked on mine, hypnotizing me with fear. Another step brought him within arms reach; I put my branch out between us. He reacted by jerking his head to the side and letting out another roar. My branch gave him no fear, only increased his anger. I lowered it. One more step and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. When he peeled back his upper lip in a snarl, I leaned my head back against the rock and turned away. I knew he could sense my fear, but I couldn’t run. I couldn’t move.

"Memorial Monday"

"A Moment of Reflection"

"Fantastic Friday"

A friend of mine (Kris from yesterday's post) turned me on to a great Christian rock group called, Fireflight. Here's one of their songs. I'm loving it. I have a couple other songs of theirs on my playlist, just keep in mind that they are a rock group.

"Wrapped In Your Arms"

Is this the whole picture
Or is it just the start?
Is this the way you love me?
You're capturing my heart
I used to try and walk alone
But I've begun to grow
And when you tell me just to rest
I'm finally letting go
I let go

And I'm here to stay
Nothing can separate us
And I know, I'm ok
You cradle me gently
Wrapped in your arms.... I'm home

I'm seeing so much clearer
Looking through your eyes
I could never find a safer place
Even if I tried
All the times I've needed you
You've never left my side
I'm clinging to your every word
Don't ever let me go
Don't let go

"Thoughtful Thursday"

Today is a day for reflection. As I near the end of the editing process for my book, Taming the Heart, I think about where it all began. Like a lot of inspiration for writers, I had a dream. In the dream I was in the mountains taking pictures when I was attacked by two men and injured. I was also on the phone with my friend Kris when this happened. In my dream, she came to my rescue and saved me. You'd have to read my book to find out more of the details, but the first 3 chapters are my dream. Of course I had to change some of it around so the story made sense, (because most dreams don't) but I stayed as close to it as I could.

When I told the dream to Kris, she said it would be a good book. At first I thought she was crazy, but after much encouragement, I wrote down what I could remember just so we would have it to share between the two of us. The next thing I knew my imagination went wild and the story grew into a 3 book saga.


Taming the Heart is told in first person, through Kira's point of view. Kris is Kira. I based as much of her personality on my friend as I could. Kris was in the archery club in high school and won many competitions--so did Kira. She's a master on the computer. Anything goes wrong with mine and she can fix it. Even the part in my book about Kira being a mouse came from her. Most of the time she is shy and withdrawn, and would do anything to avoid conflict, but if you make her mad, look out. She's got spunk.

Every step of the way, Kris has been there. She's read everything I've written, even the really bad stuff in the beginning and supported me through it all. When I was depressed and thinking I wasn't good enough, she would give me a swift kick and tell me to keep writing. When I was stuck on a scene or couldn't get into a character's head, she would talk me through it until the creative juices started flowing again. Never once has she complained about the sleepless nights she forced herself to read the entire book AGAIN, because it was the only time she could have the computer without kids running around disturbing her.

So, today I want to thank Kris for being my friend. Without her, this book would still just be a dream. And I also want to tell her to get some sleep. I'll be starting the editing process on book two in a couple weeks. Hope you're ready girlfriend.

"Wacky Wednesday"

Today is WaCkY WeDnEsDaY. Thought I would share this Wacky Dream Contest info with all my writing buddies. Make sure you go to the link at the bottom and take a peek at the bonus info. Good Luck if you enter.

Send Stories for Children Magazine a short story for children ages 12 and under about a wacky dream. You can either write about a dream you've actually had or about a dream one of your characters has. It's up to you, but remember the story has to be for children, which means no sexual content, violence, or anything related to drugs.

Submissions are due: March 1, 2009 through May 30, 2009

Click on this link for more information:

http://storiesforchildrenmagazine.org/WackyDreamStoryContest.aspx

BONUS: Once there, scroll down to see if you recognize someone's book. I think you will. Pretty cool stuff.

"The Big Tease"

Here is a tiny bite from my second book in the "Taming the Heart" series. For those of you who've read the first book, this should give you a few clues as to what happens to Kira next. FYI-Ussay (you say) is the nursemaid. This takes place in Santara after Octavion rescues Kira from the hands of Shandira and the Pantherians. It is also in Octavion's POV. Enjoy.

Ussay pulled the drapes and left a single candle burning on the table next to the bed. I’d hoped the subdued light would bring a peaceful atmosphere so Kira could sleep, but my efforts were in vain

.

As the fever raged through her body, her mind replayed every detail of her suffering. Over and over I listened as she begged her captors to stop their sadistic behavior. Her words crushed me like no other. I’d dreamed of holding her in my arms again—how much joy it would bring for both of us. But this was far from what I had imagined. My very soul ached from the pain she had endured. For the first time in my life, I lost control of my emotions. The tears burned my eyes as they overflowed, washing over my face. I made no attempt to hold them back. Long after the wounds healed, she would still remember their faces, their ruthless taunting and most of all, the part of her she would never get back. The love of my life was broken and it would be up to me to heal what had been stolen from her. How would I mend something so fragile?

It was late afternoon and the candle had burned out hours before. I’d held her in the darkness, reluctant to move in fear of sparking another bout of terrifying memories. I could feel her body against mine and it was cool. Her fever had finally ended.

When Ussay returned with her things, she pulled back the drapes and ordered me out of the room. She insisted I bathe. Truth be told, I needed it. I’d spent the past few hours next to Kira’s feverish body and under the warmth of the covers and the bedding was drenched.

“You will need to change her linens,” I said, as I gently slid out from under Kira and made sure she was comfortable.

Kira stirred. “Building . . . a fire,” she mumbled.

I gently stroked her face. “Yes, Kira. I’m building a fire.” Maybe the memories of us together would give her the comfort she needed.

“Please send for me when she wakes,” I instructed Ussay.

“As you wish, sire . . . Octavion,” she corrected with a smirk. “Perhaps you should eat something as well. You look pale.”

I glanced at Kira’s broken and beaten body. “I will eat . . . when she eats.”

That's all you get. Stay tuned for next Tuesday when I'll give you something else to chew on.

"Monday Moan"

"It Is Done"

It’s funny how three little words can make a person feel like their heart’s been ripped from their chest. My husband just sent me a text.

“It is done.”

I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes trying to control my tears and explain to my heart that we’ve done the right thing, but nothing seems to take away the ache.

To many, this story is going to seem silly, and maybe in a few days I will be able to look back and think the same thing, but right now I feel like I’ve destroyed my son’s world. Even though we knew this day was coming, we'd put it off for so long.

Joshua turned fifteen in February, and for those of you who don’t know him, he has autism. He also has OCD and an anxiety disorder, so when he obsesses about something it can get pretty hairy. Ever since he was a little boy, he’s chosen plastic toys in the form of living things to be his obsession. He’s collected plastic snakes, insects, reptiles, dinosaurs, farm animals, jungle animals, ocean animals, and any other kind of living thing that has been made of plastic. When he learned how to read, he was fascinated with the animal encyclopedias. He would spend hours matching the plastic animals to the pictures and learning everything about them. I’d heard of children with autism becoming savants and if he were ever to become an expert on something, I truly believe it would be that. He can tell you everything there is to know about them; where they live, what they eat, if they are poisonous—everything.

As he got older, the toys became a bit of a crutch. He couldn’t go anywhere without taking a box or a bag or even a little fanny pack filled with them. It also became a problem. He has a nasty habit of putting the little things, especially the tiny snakes, in everything. He put them down the heater vents, down the sink and tub drains, flushed them down the toilet and fed them through the cracks and knot holes in the deck. I can’t remember how many times my husband has had the toilet off, trying to get toys out of the trap. We’ve had Roto Rooter out several times to unclog the drains and last fall when we had the septic tank pumped out, the man said the toys clogged his pipe.

Which brings us to yesterday. Because Joshua has no real fear of consequences, we’ve been using the toys, or rather the idea of losing them, as a punishment. Several times we’ve gathered them up and stored them in the garage, making him earn them back 10 -20 at a time. Last week he had bad behaviors at school and lost them all, so yesterday he was told he could pick 10 because he was being good. He wanted more. When he came out of the garage, he’d filled a huge box full and insisted he’d been good enough to keep them. I calmly explained to him the process, as I had done many times before. I told him to pick 10, put the rest back and he could earn more throughout the day. He didn’t agree.

He took the box and chucked it down the deck stairs, then took off down our lane, swearing and throwing rocks at our trailer and anything else he could hit. He’s got a good arm and a good aim, so that was just about everything. When a rock bounced off the trailer and went sailing past my husband’s head, he’d had enough. He told Joshua he’d gone too far and the toys were going to DI.

This only set Joshua into a major melt down. When he started down the road, I got in my car and went after him. We learned a long time ago that chasing him just makes it worse. He usually calms down before getting to the road and comes back, but not this time. Fortunately, when he saw my car, he turned around and headed back. I stopped the car and let him come to me, giving him more time to cool off. When he reached me, I was able to calm him enough to get him back to the house. By then, my husband had loaded all the toys into the back of his truck. We’d threatened several times that if he couldn’t get his temper under control, the toys would go to DI and jig was up. After all, a fifteen year old young man shouldn’t be playing with baby toys, right?

I led Joshua back into the house where he pleaded with us not to take away his toys. But the decision had already been made and we had to be firm. It was time to let him grow up. It took a few minutes of convincing, telling him he had so many other things he could do, like listen to his music (which he loves) and play his PSP. He also loves to draw and is very creative. Maybe we were opening a new door for him. I tried to be positive. He finally calmed down and spent the rest of the night asking questions about things like, “How will I go camping without them,” or “What will I do this summer? I’ll be bored.” We tried to reassure him, but in my heart I felt like a monster.

I keep thinking about those little animals being his passion. Then I thought about what it would feel like if someone took away my passion. How would it feel to me if someone came into my home and took my computer, every shred of paper, pens, pencils, everything that had to do with writing and then said I had to grow up. No more writing. It would be like killing the best part of me—the part that defines me—the part that keeps me alive. That’s how I feel right now—like I’ve destroyed Joshua’s world.

I lay awake most of the night wondering if we were doing the right thing, but not wanting to go against what we’d decided. Hoping that my husband would have a weak moment and give in, not wanting to carry through with it. But now . . . “it is done.” There’s no going back. I can only hope that we will get through this and Joshua will find something else that will bring him as much joy. In the meantime, I’m satisfied with believing I’m the worst mother ever put on the face of this earth. Maybe I should restrict myself from writing for a while, that way I can appreciate what he’s going through.

Moan. Ugh. Whimper. Groan. Sigh.

The Importance of Prayer

If Today Was Your Last Day

I love this song. Thought I would share.



Nickelback - If Today Was Your Last Day Lyrics

My best friend gave me the best advice
He said each day’s a gift and not a given right
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind
And try to take the path less traveled by
That first step you take is the longest stride

If today was your last day
and tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
If today was your last day

Against the grain should be a way of life
What’s worth the prize is always worth the fight
Every second counts ’cause there’s no second try
So live like you’ll never live it twice
Don’t take the free ride in your own life

If today was your last day
and tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce of memories
Would you forgive your enemies?
Would you find that one you’re dreamin’ of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you finally fall in love
If today was your last day

If today was your last day
Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?
You know it’s never too late to shoot for the stars
Regardless of who you are
So do whatever it takes
‘Cause you can’t rewind a moment in this life
Let nothin’ stand in your way
Cause the hands of time are never on your side

If today was your last day
and tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?

Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce of memories
Would you forgive your enemies?
Would you find that one you’re dreamin’ of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you finally fall in love
If today was your last day

"Developing Characters"

Developing believable characters can sometimes be difficult. For one thing, they need to live and breath in your story. If they don't, the story will be flat and uninteresting. The reader needs to either love them or hate them. They also need to care whether they overcome the demons in their lives or win the hand of the lovely maiden (or gorgeous hunk of a hero). If they don't care about your characters and believe in them, they'll put the book down. None of us want that to happen.

The following excerpt is the first three paragraphs of my book, Taming the Heart.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I teased as a cool evening breeze brushed a strand of hair across my face. I quickly tucked it behind my ear.

Lydia set her camera beside the rustic footbridge that spanned Black Creek—the contrast of the wild Shasta Daisies against the weather-beaten planks had caught her eye and she just had to capture it. She smiled her crooked little grin and continued adjusting her tripod, perching it precariously on the water’s rocky edge. “I can’t believe you came. Getting you out of that house for more than a quick trip to the grocery store is like coaxing a mouse out of its hole. You’ve become a bit of a hermit, my friend.”

“I have not. I just like staying home, that’s all.” I knew she was right, but admitting it to her meant I’d have to admit it to myself. Her analogy of the mouse was truer than she knew. My mother called me mouse. I’d always thought it was a loving term of endearment until I overheard her telling her boyfriend the real definition one day. She’d said I was weak and always underfoot. In her mind, it was enough of an excuse to justify her leaving. It was the last time I saw my mother—her priorities no longer included me.

Did you learn anything about the characters? Are they lovable? Do you feel sorry for Kira, whose telling the story through her point of view? Has Kira let her mother's opinion of her influence her life? And what about Lydia? Is her friendship with Kira genuine and valuable?

Tell me what you think. I want to know everything you get out of these three paragraphs, even your assumptions and what images come to mind as you're reading. What questions do you ask yourself about the characters? What parts tweaked your interest and curiosity? Do you want to know more?

And yes, you can consider yourselves my guinea pig readers.

"He Knows Her Name"

After several years of unsuccessful fertility treatments and tests, my husband and I decided to adopt. We went through piles of paperwork, fingerprinting, interviews, home visits and background checks before finally being approved. Our social worker through LDS Social Services told us the average wait was 1 1/2 years, two at the most. While we waited we spent the time painting the nursery, gathering needed items like a crib, bassinet, car seat, and going through the usual lists of appropriate names. When two years came and went and we still hadn't received a baby, we tried to remain positive.

By the third year I was depressed and questioning the love my Father in Heaven had for me. Ever since I could remember I wanted to be a mom, but maybe the Lord had different plans for me. Would I spend the rest of my life never knowing the joy of holding a child in my arms and hearing that sweet voice say "Mommy?" Had I done something to deserve this punishment?

By the fourth year, we'd given up all hope. Our social worker was sympathetic, but had no answers.

On a normal Monday afternoon in February, while I was picking up a few needed items at the grocery store, my husband got the call. The social worker said there was a little boy due to be born on Wednesday (they were inducing her labor) and they had a good feeling about it. He encouraged us to pray, which we did.

Wednesday came, but they'd postponed the birth til Thursday.

Thursday came, no news.

Friday we called, only to find out the birth mother had changed her mind and was going to keep her son.

Our hearts were crushed. For the next 11 days, we received mixed reports from both our social worker and hers. One day, she was leaning toward giving him up and the next she wanted to keep him. On the 12th day, the phone rang and the voice on the other end said, "Come get your son."

That was 15 years ago and not a single Mother's Day has gone by that I haven't thought about that confused 17 year old girl who made the ultimate sacrifice to give her child a better life. Our adoption was close, so I may never know her name, but the Lord does. He knows her heart. He knows her love for the little boy she let me raise as my own. I long for the day when we can meet in heaven and rejoice in the young man he has become. I pray she is still okay with her decision and finds comfort in knowing he is being raised by a mother and father who love him very much.

While contemplating the writing of this post I found this video. With each word, I thought of that 17 year old girl, saying goodbye to her little baby, praying he would be happy and cling to the Lord until she could see him again. The courage it took her to let go of something so precious breaks my heart. She is indeed a special mother, both in my eyes and in the eyes of the Lord. I pray that she has finally found happiness in her life and has many children who bring her as much joy as Joshua brings me.

May the angels praise her name.

Please enjoy this video, then go to the top left corner of this blog and click on the other writer's who have accepted this challenge and visit their blogs. Thanks for your support and love.

Happy Mother's Day.

25 Lessons Learned From Mom

1 – I make killer chocolate chip cookies – and NO, you can’t have the recipe, my mother would skin me alive.

2 – Mom always said to pray. It didn’t matter what it was, her response was to pray about it. Probably the best advice she ever gave me.

3 – My mother taught me how to say “yellow” instead of “lellow”. It was when I was three and we lived in Germany. She was using my crayons; shredding them between two pieces of wax paper and then melting it with an iron. She put them up in the windows for Christmas so they would look like stained glass. Very pretty, but my crayon collection took a huge hit. The thing is . . . I actually remember saying “lellow” on purpose, just to keep her attention. She thought it was funny and would giggle. I liked to hear my mom laugh.

4 – My mother taught me how to embroider. She learned from her grandmother and let me tell you, she didn’t settle for just the front of your project looking good, she would always turn it over and look at the back. She said the back was just as important, even if you were the only one who would ever see it.

5 – I learned how to work from my mother, mostly from example. When I was about nine years old, she cut out a section of our lawn about the size of double car garage, all with a shovel, a wheel barrel, and pure muscle and determination. It took her weeks, but when she had it done, we had a garden anyone would be proud of. We all reaped from the harvest. Each one of us kids was in charge of certain rows and there were NO weeds, ever. I can snap beans and pod peas with the best of them.

6 – One of my mom’s favorite sayings was, “Can’t never did nothing until he tried.” She was always driving into our brains to do our best and never give up, a quality lacking in many youth today.

7 – Never, and I say NEVER, sleep on a heating pad. My mom had a sore back one time and went to bed resting on a heating pad. It slid down during the night and she woke up with a massive blister on her fanny. Okay, laugh if you want, I won’t tell her.

8 – My mother has a green thumb. She can grow anything, anywhere. I, on the other hand, not so much. My husband waters the plants in our house so I don’t kill them. Sorry Mom, didn’t get that lesson. But, hey, she tried.

9 – Thanks to my mom, I can catch, gut, scale, skin and fillet a fish. I can even bread it and cook it. Too bad I hate to eat them.

10 – My mom is a clean freak. Everything has to be in its place and not a speck of dirt or dust. I actually think she has OCD, but she’d never admit it. We used to joke about not letting her buy throw rugs with fringe because she would sit on the floor making sure all the strings were lined up perfectly. To this day, when visiting, we purposely move things around just enough to make her notice, then sit back and giggle as she goes through the house putting stuff back in place. We’re talking about adjusting a knick knack ¼ from center on a table. Nah, she’s not OCD. I think I have the desire to be that way in me, but not the energy. I have better things to do.

11 – Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been sensitive to the world around me and perhaps even the world beyond. My mother has always been very accepting of that and encouraged me to embrace my gift, listen to the voice within me and follow my heart. I’m very grateful for that.

12 – My mother is a very charitable woman. More often than not, she could be found serving others, especially when it came to our friends. I can’t remember how many kids her and my dad “adopted” over the years, all calling them Mom and Dad, coming to them for advice and forming life long relationships. She’s been a great example to me.

13 – My mom is a strong woman. When my father was called to fight in the Vietnam war, she raised us kids alone for 2 years. I remember her sitting on the floor in front of the TV watching the news with a map of Vietnam in one hand and my father’s last letter in the other, trying to see where the action was and praying my dad wasn’t in the thick of it. I learned a lot about love and sticking by your man.

14 – Oh, man . . . I’m running out of really good things to say. So, how about some little things? She taught me how to crochet.

15 – Showed me how to sew,

16 – Clean Ceramics,

17 – Make homemade bread,

18 – Appreciate classical music,

19 – Make perfect corners with sheets on a bed (not the fitted kind, either),

20 – Tie quilts

21 – Put butter on a saltine cracker (there is a technique)

22 – Ride a bike,

23 – Can EVERYTHING (even fish, yuck)

24 – Pick worms out of the lawn for extra money

25 – And last, but certainly not least, my mother taught me to believe in myself.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you!

When You Ask . . . Be Ready To Receive

For weeks now I've been praying that the Lord would provide me with ways to get my name and reputation as a writer out in the big wide world of publishing, knowing full well that the business of being an author is not only rewarding, but extremely difficult. As a mother and wife, it can also be very taxing on a family when her time is split between the ones she loves and her need to be behind the computer to promote herself, her book and her gift. As I thought about the sacrifice I might be making, I also thought of the rewards. For one thing, working toward my dream of being a writer and published author has made me a better person. I'm not only happy about what I'm doing, but proud of the progress I've made over the past year. Having the inner satisfaction oozing from my pores has influenced my family in a positive way, making this our goal instead of just mine. My husband has made dinner more times than I care to count because my muse was working overtime. My son will sneak into my office while I'm writing and sit next to me reading as I type, rubbing my back, patiently waiting for me to get to a stopping point so he can ask a question or get a hug. I find the point very quickly when he wants a hug.

When He opens the door, make sure you've got your running shoes on.

As I continued to pray for help, always seeking for his spirit to guide my fingers across the keyboard, I came upon a curious comment on my blog. I'd just posted a story about writing with the spirit, so wasn't surprised that someone was as touched reading it as I was when I wrote it. But I do have to say I was shocked to find out she had also been praying and felt she was led to my blog for a purpose.

Jenni James, an up and coming LDS author, formed a blog last January, inviting six other authors to join her. Since that time, they have made quite the reputation for themselves. They get an average of 1000 hits a week blogging about anything and everything that has to do with being a writer while juggling motherhood, family and church.

So where do I fit in? One of her authors has stepped down because her life plans to be extremely hectic this summer, leaving an opening. After exchanging emails and a phone call (3:00a.m. her time, she lives in England) she finally convinced me to be her "Saturday Girl" on Mormon Mommy Writers.

While I've prayed for an opportunity to challenge my writing skills and get my name out there, I don't think I was ready when the Lord opened the door. It took quite a bit of convincing for Jenni to get a "yes" out of me, mostly because the caliber of writing I saw on the blog puts mine to shame. These women are in various stages of their writing career, but all have one thing in common. Talent! I am both honored and humble to be counted among them and hope this opportunity leads to a lasting friendship with each of them.

So if you haven't already gone there, click here to hop on over to my new home away from home and check out my new friends.

EXTRA! EXTRA! Read All About It!

Coming soon to bookstores near you,

"Agent in Old Lace"

by Tristi Pinkston.What's the book about?

Shannon Tanner has it all—a perfect family, a perfect job, and a perfect boyfriend. Or so she thinks. What Shannon doesn’t know is that her boyfriend, Mark, is stealing money from her father and making millions doing it. When Shannon learns Mark’s secret, he turns on her, and Shannon’s life abruptly goes from perfect to perilous.

In an effort to protect Shannon, the FBI assigns their only female agent to go undercover as her personal bodyguard. But when the agent breaks her leg the day before the assignment, they turn to the next best thing: their top agent, Rick Holden—in a dress.

Life seems safe again for Shannon with Rick by her side and Mark apparently gone for good. Then Shannon gets word that her best friend has been kidnapped, and it becomes clear that Mark isn’t going to stop any time soon. Shannon realizes the only way to save herself and her friend—and stop Mark once and for all—is by sending Rick, her only source of protection, away. Can Rick save Shannon before it’s too late?


Enter Tristi's Contest by clicking here.

Visit her website here.

Or preorder "Agent in Old Lace" here.