By Carroll: Agent in Old Lace

The phrase, “It started with a bang,” has been used to describe the beginning of all manner of things, from the universe itself, to movies and, of course, to books. It’s meant as a positive description—except when used in tandem with, “and it ended with a whimper.”

Tristi Pinkston has avoided that pitfall in her new suspense novel, Agent in Old Lace. It starts with a bang as the object of Shannon’s affection, Mark, kidnaps her with the intent of killing her. It has plenty of action and suspense throughout, and it delivers a surprise at the end, which readers always enjoy.

The part of the plot that has Mark bilking many of Shannon’s clients through a Ponzi scheme (think Bernie Madoff) is timely and believable. When Mark escapes, an FBI agent (Rick) is assigned to protect Shannon. He has to show up in drag to do so, hence the title, Agent in Old Lace. While I found this plotline not so believable, it provides many opportunities for humor as well as some sweet exchanges that move Shannon and Rick’s budding romance forward.

I liked Shannon very much. She’s a gutsy character who doesn’t let circumstances take over her life. I only wish I’d had the chance to know her better up front. The downside to a writer jumping headlong into action is that readers haven’t been given the chance to develop empathy for the characters.

If Tristi had started the book with scenes showing Shannon meeting Mark, becoming impressed by his business acumen, and falling in love with his charming side, I would have felt how devastating his betrayal was rather that reading about how devastating it was.

That aside, I found Agent in Old Lace an enjoyable summer read. Congratulations to Tristi, who is known to readers for her historical fiction, for making a successful transition into the suspense genre.

By Carroll: The Gathering of Good Women

In 2003, my husband and I moved from the Minneapolis area to Green Valley, Arizona. It was the right move for us, but adjusting to being in a new place wasn’t easy for me. Even after we’d been there over four years, I didn’t feel like I had a community of women friends. Then I started seeing Diann for massage, and she began introducing me to people she’d connected with over years of living and working in Green Valley.

These very interesting and talented women were also very busy. I decided if I wanted to spend time with them, I would have to make it happen. So I invited some of them over for potluck and evening of conversation. We enjoyed each other's company so much, we decided we should meet again the next month.

That was the beginning of The Gathering of Good Women, an almost monthly evening featuring potluck and some kind of activity or sharing. (Yes, the inspiration for that name came from the title of our series, The Company of Good Women.) Last year, our meeting ended up being the same night of one of the presidential debates, so we included husbands. They enjoyed it so much, we invited them again a couple of months later. Once in a while, the evening is more properly entitled The Gathering of Good People!

While the group of women (and people) who come to my home the last Thursday of the month varies, we always have a wonderful time. Here’s some of the activities we’ve done.

Walked the labyrinth at a local church
Made Zuni-style fetishes from self-hardening clay
Dressed up in 70s clothes and watched Mama Mia
Fixed Indian food and discussed vegetarianism
Collaged the future we wanted to create for the new year.

In May, we had The Great Giveaway. Everyone brought things they no longer needed or used, including jewelry, clothing, books and household items.We put those items on display, and after eating our supper, we looked over what others had brought to see if there were things we could use. I tell you, items flew off the jewelry table and the clothing rack!

Buy the end of the evening, everyone had found things they were thrilled to have, and we all felt lighter for having cleared some space in our own homes. The books that weren’t claimed went to a garage sale being held by a local church. The remaining clothing will go to a local Indian tribe, the Tohono O’Odham, People of the Desert. (The photo is of Ramona, who'd just claimed a beautiful coral necklace that went perfectly with her outfit!)

I’ve been hosting The Gathering of Good Women for almost two years, now. Those evenings have brought a wonderful spirit into our home and has helped me find my community and feel at home in Green Valley.

If you’ve read this whole post, consider hosting a Gathering of Good Women yourself. And if you do, please let me know!

Lael on Writing for Young Readers: How to Get There

After spending the last few months getting two creaky knees replaced, I'm excited to be teaching at the BYU Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Workshop from June 8th to the 12th. For more info, click here.  

I will be teaching the principles I learned from the best writing teacher in the world, Helen Hinckley Jones, who taught an ongoing extended day classs at Pasadena City College, and after retirement a class in her home for a chosen few. I studied with her for over twenty-years, until her death. After that, a group of twelve of her students continued to meet twice a week. Out of this group has come over 600 books for children and young people (as well as a few women’s novels).

One of the wisest things Helen, whom we called our ‘literary mama,’ ever said was, “Remember in writing for kids that they don’t want to look at the forest. They want to meet the bear.” She said that in writing for kids you get to the action immediately. Forget about beautiful descriptions. Bring on the bear!

Whenever one of us started a new book, Helen insisted that we be able to state the story question in one sentence. Why is Carlene having memories of a town where she has never lived? Will Robin discover the secret of the haunted dress? Will Selene be able to choose between her two families, the one that raised her and the one she was kidnapped from thirteen years before? “The story question is your roadmap to where you are going on your journey through the book,” Helen said. “It keeps you focused.”

Some rules were made to be broken if you write well enough, Helen admitted. But one of her inflexible rules was that the character must solve his/her own problem. The stakes must be high. What is the dreadful alternative if the character can’t solve the problem?

We, her students, came week after week after week, learning from her. She was hard on us and didn’t let us get away with being lazy about our writing. But we loved her classes. I told my brother once that her class was the highlight of my week. His face bunched up with sympathy. “You poor thing,” he said. And my husband said, “You women get together at least twice a week. Don’t you ever run out of things to talk about?” No. Any writer worth his/her salt will understand that.

We all went through hard times. An astute writer named L. Rust Mills has said, “The sinister thing about writing is that it starts off seeming so easy and ends up being so hard.” But Helen never let us give us during the hard time. “Persist,” she said. “That’s the secret.”

We persisted. And succeeded. Over 600 books attest to that fact. 

And so I hope to encourage my class in June to persist. Learning the rules, as taught by Helen, will help. Although Somerset Maugham said, “There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.”           

But we will have fun talking about what is a passion with all of us writers -- writing.

 

Book Review by Carroll and Lael: A Future for Tomorrow/Surviving Anorexia By Haley Hatch Freeman

It’s hard to imagine a teenager standing 5’9” and weighing only 85 pounds, but that’s the state Haley Hatch Freeman reached when she was at the low part of her terrifying struggle with anorexia. In "A Future for Tomorrow," Haley bravely recounts her journey to the brink of death and back again in a way that is both touching and inspiring.


This struggle began with Haley not feeling good enough, pretty enough, or loved enough. She was surrounded by loving friends and family, but when they told her she was pretty or loved, she discounted what they said: “Oh, they’re just saying that to be nice.” Haley also suffered from body dysmorphia. She had a distorted image of her own body, which led her to see herself as fat even when she was skeletal and in danger of losing her life.

The frankness with which Haley describes her journey is remarkable. She opens her heart and mind to her readers because she feels called to let others know how devastating anorexia nervosa can be. Part of the book is told in excerpts from her journal. showing her progess—or lack of it. Before we read this book, we didn’t understand what young women suffering this disease go through, but now we both feel as if we’ve been through it ourselves.

Eating disorders are on the rise, even among young men. This is not surprising, given the mostly unattainable images of beauty we see in the media. Reading Haley’s book gives adults insight into behaviors which might be early warning signs that young people are in danger of becoming anorexic. "A Future for Tomorrow" is a wake-up call for readers of any age.

The first ten chapters of the book are told in an unusal way. It starts with January 27, 1997, and moves backward until July 17, 1996, at which time it starts moving forward beginning with May 7, 1997. We couldn’t see a reason for this convuluted telling and would have preferred a straightforward story. Nevertheless, the impact is not lost as we move with Haley into despair and then hope and then healing. The pictures at the end of the book are very reassuring, the final one being her wedding day in November 2002.

Much happiness, Haley. You have earned it.

To learn more about Haley, click here to visit her blog.

A Wedding, Vertigo and Unexpected Benefits

I realized this morning that the blog I thought I'd posted about the big trip my family took to Europe last month existed only in my head! So here I am, the morning after the last big presidential debate, blogging about life, love, weddings and how an event that seems unfortunate can have unexpected benefits.

Gary and I started planning for this trip when our daughter, Lisette, who lives in Germany, announced that she and York Hagmeyer were going to get married on the 13th of September. Getting that kind of news is always exciting, but for us it had extra significance. In the years since my husband was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, we've learned that having an event to look forward to changes how one lives in the present. And what better event to anticipate than the marriage of our daughter to a fine man we were proud to welcome into our family.

The celebration was truly an international event. In addition to Lisette and York's friends and family in Germany, four of Lisette's high-school friends from America were in attendance, plus York's host family and friends from when he'd been an exchange student in Sao Paulo, Brazil. I got such a kick out of watching York's exchange mother carrying on an animated conversation with his mother, Heidrun, when neither understood the other's language!

The love that was present during the ceremony in the city hall in Goettingen was palpable, and it carried over to the celebration held in the square in front of the city hall and later to the reception held in a restaurant in Werretal. Even the servers commented on what a wonderful event it was.

I was so proud of my family that night. Gary's toast to the bridal couple was so sweet and touching, many guests told Lisette they wished they had a father who would say something like that at their wedding. David sang a song in German while Lisette and York danced the first dance. Then Gary, who at times during the day had been using canes or a wheelchair, actually danced with me--and I have the photos to prove it!

The party was still going strong when Gary and I finally went to our room after midnight, wrapped in the glow of love, friendship and fun. The plan was to visit a park in Kassel the next day and leave for Rome the day after.

But the next morning, I woke to find the room tilted and sliding to the right. Rats! It was vertigo, which I'd had problems with off and on for years. I closed my eyes for a moment and carefully opened them again, hoping the room would be mercifully stable. No such luck. I stayed in the hotel during that day, thinking by resting I would be in shape to go to Rome. But the next day, it was even worse. Gary, Mattie, John, and David left for Rome, and I left for the a doctor's office.

I never did make it to Rome. Instead I spent the week with York and Lisette at their apartment in Kassel. It was a disappointment not to be with the rest of the family while they toured The Eternal City, but there was something very sweet about being able to spend more time with my daughter and new son-in-law. Once I was feeling better, I had the opportunity to get a picture of what their life in Kassel was like--going to the Saturday market, walking in the city park, and seeing the clinic where Lisette works.

I treasure that time. In fact, I wouldn't want the trip to have turned out any other way. Now we're back to our normal routine, enjoying the glory days of SE Arizona in the fall. Life is good.

Have Pencil, Will Travel

Ever since my husband died several years ago, I’ve been traveling to all of the countries we’d planned to visit together after his retirement. (He died suddenly the morning after he brought home his retirement papers.) Whenever I tell people I’m going to Ukraine or China or Poland, some of them say, “Oh, you’ll find a lot to write about there.” I smile and nod, but the truth is what I’ll write about will be things I learn and observe from the people I travel with.

One of the great Southern writers -- it may have been Faulkner -- said once that he could spend his entire life writing about a square foot of land in the town where he grew up. I’ve written extensively about my home town, the small farming community of Mink Creek, Idaho. Most of it is fiction, but I get my inspiration from the history and customs of that little village, and especially the people, whom I love dearly, both past and present. And so, when I travel, I watch and listen to my companions. I hear their life stories, the way they speak, their attitudes, their comments about the country we’re in and the towns they came from. I observe their mannerisms and how they relate to other people. I make notes in the little pad I always have with me. They, or something about them, may appear in my next book. Very likely they wouldn’t recognize themselves, because the characters I create are usually a synthesis of several people. Sweetie Farnsworth in my Blue Skye was an amalgamation of a warm-hearted woman I knew back in Mink Creek and a Scottish lady I met on one of my trips. Reanna, in Lake of Secrets,was in reality a flighty young woman I knew in high school with a dash of a girl who was part of my tour group in the Czech Republic.

That’s not to say I don’t use the countries themselves in my books, or rather events that happened in those countries. In the trilogy of books I wrote with co-authors Nancy Anderson and Carroll Morris, we had our three characters vacationing together in Williamsburg, Virginia, at the time the World Trade Center was destroyed. Nancy, Carroll, and I had actually vacationed in Williamsburg, but three years before 9/11. On the actual day, September 11, 2001, I was with a small tour group in St. Petersburg, Russia. We were to fly out the next morning, and we were attending a farewell dinner at one of the Romanoff palaces when we passed a vendor’s table and saw the first plane fly into a tower. The commentary was in Russian, so we didn’t know what was happening. It seemed to be an accident, so we went in to dinner. It wasn’t until afterward that we found out it was no accident. We asked the vendor what happened, and in broken English he told us New York was under attack.

Back at our hotel we flipped through the TV channels, trying to locate one we could understand. Finally we found a broadcast from Germany, with English subtitles. We sat there stunned, watching the horror play and replay. We heard that the United States borders had been closed. What was to happen to us? We were shut out of our own country. We would not get home the next day.

The hotel staff wept with us and put up a sign expressing their sorrow and sympathy. Luiba, our wonderful Russian guide, said she would make sure we’d have a hotel to stay in when we got to Warsaw, which was as far as we could go. She hugged us all the next day when she took us to the airport.

The small hotel near the airport in Warsaw had just opened, and the rooms were beautiful. The staff surrounded us with love and concern. The week that followed would have been a pleasure if there hadn’t been such horror going on back in the U.S. The hotel manager gave us a van and driver to take us around the city free of charge. We saw the triumphant rebuilding of the Warsaw city center, which the Nazis had totally razed in World War II. We saw the U.S. Embassy, surrounded by hundreds of people, many of them weeping, and mountains of flowers they’d brought. And we saw the lovely Latter-day Saint chapel, where several of us went to church on Sunday and found peace of mind and the assurance that we would get home safely. We were charmed and touched that one of the Sunday School classes was in English so that we could understand without the missionaries translating.

In the second book of our trilogy, Three Tickets to Peoria, Nancy, Carroll, and I had our characters going through the same emotions that I’d felt when they are stranded in Williamsburg. They can’t get home. But their solution was easier than mine; they simply changed the destination of their rental car and drove to Florida where one of the characters was living.

One need not travel to find inspiration for characters or ideas for events. To paraphrase Faulkner, or whoever it was, I could find enough to write about the rest of my life right here on my own block. In fact, one of my neighbors made an appearance in my book Shanny on Her Own as independent and crusty old Aunt Adabelle. You can tell her if you want to, but she’d deny it. She doesn’t see herself as I see her, and besides I stirred in a hefty measure of my own Aunt Mahalia.

Review of The Santa Letters by Stacy Gooch Anderson

This handsomely presented book begins by giving the reader a glimpse of a happy family -- William and Emma with their three sons and small daughter -- enjoying their time together. But in the second chapter, everything has changed. William has been killed by a hit-and-run driver, and the family is plunged into loss and pain and darkness. Emma, immobilized by grief, wants nothing more than to huddle in the comforting warmth of Grandma’s quilt and think of the past when William was still with her. Christmas is coming, but the joy of the season has died with her husband, as far as she is concerned. She pulls herself together enough to hold down the job she must take to provide for her family, but she feels her life is in total disarray.

Then, to the surprise of all of them, they find a red envelope on their doorstep. Emma is tempted to throw it away. Her children have had enough ‘surprises.’ But the kids are too focused on the mysterious letter to simply dispose of it, so after dinner Emma opens it. The writer of the letter expresses sympathy for their loss and changed circumstances, and then talks about the Christmas season, telling how the word ‘Christmas’ combines Christ’s name with a Middle English word meaning ‘festival’ or ‘celebration.’ The letter goes on to say that a box will be left on their porch each day along with instructions about what the family is to do with the items inside.

The letter is signed, “Santa.”

Thus begins an adventure of mystery and realization and growth. One of the letters speaks of traditions, and inside the box the family finds tree ornaments with instructions to obtain a tree and decorate it as in past years. “Symbols, services, songs, sacraments--they all have withstood the test of time,” the letter says. Another day the letter is about the importance of laughter, with scriptural quotations about rejoicing. Inside the box are a comedy DVD, a box of popcorn, and root beer for all for a festive night at the movies.

And so it goes, with a Santa letter and a box delivered each day. But who is leaving them? There isn’t a clue. Emma is immeasureably grateful to whoever it is because she and her family are once again finding joy and fun in life. They have something to look forward to.

But will they ever find out who this ‘Santa’ is?

This book brings to the reader not only a touching story but also a whole education about Christmas and the Savior and the true meaning of “Santa.”

You can learn more about Stacy Gooch Anderson by clicking here and here.