I got lost in another good book

I recently read Kristin Billerbeck's new release A Billion Reasons Why, and I'm so happy to recommend it to my friends. I loved the characters, loved that the book's setting was a character, and loved the thread of hope that Kristin portrayed in the lives of the characters. A Billion Reasons Why is one of those books that has you rooting for the character as if she were your best friend. One word of warning: once you start this book, don't plan on doing much else until it's finished. You'll want to read this one straight through.

As usual, I was enthralled by Kristin's story, and I think you will be too. Check it out. You can even scroll down and read the first chapter.

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!

Today's Wild Card author is:

Kristin Billerbeck

and the book:

A Billion Reasons Why

Thomas Nelson; Original edition (February 1, 2011)

***Special thanks to Audra Jennings, Senior Media Specialist, The B&B Media Group for sending me a review copy.***

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Kristin Billerbeck was born in California to an Italian father and a strong Norwegian/German mother. Her mother tried to teach her to do things right, how to cook, clean, sew, and budget accordingly—all the things a proper girl should know in order to be a contributing member of society. Yet Billerbeck said she “failed miserably,” although her grandmother must still hold some hope since she gave her a cookie gun for her 40th birthday.

Billerbeck has authored more than 30 novels, including the Ashley Stockingdale series and the Spa Girls series. She is a leader in the Chick Lit movement, a Christy Award finalist, and a two-time winner of the American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award. She has appeared on The Today Show and has been featured in the New York Times. She lives with her family in northern California.


Visit the author's website.

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:

There are a billion reasons Kate should marry her current boyfriend.

Will she trade them all to be madly in love?

Katie McKenna leads a perfect life. Or so she thinks. She has a fulfilling job, a cute apartment, and a wedding to plan with her soon-to-be fiance, Dexter.

She can think of a billion reasons why she should marry Dexter…but nowhere on that list is love.

And then in walks Luc DeForges, her bold, breathtaking ex-boyfriend. Only now he's a millionaire. And he wants her to go home to New Orleans to sing for her childhood friend's wedding. As his date.

But Katie made up her mind about Luc eight years ago, when she fled their hometown after a very public breakup. Yet there's a magnetism between them she can't deny.

Katie thought her predictable relationship with Dexter would be the bedrock of a lasting, Christian marriage. But what if there's more? What if God's desire for her is a heart full of life? And what if that's what Luc has offered all along?


Product Details:

List Price: $14.99
Paperback: 320 pages
Publisher: Thomas Nelson; Original edition (February 1, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1595547916
ISBN-13: 978-1595547910

AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:

A Fine Romance


Katie McKenna had dreamed of this moment at least a thousand times. Luc would walk back into her life filled with remorse. He’d be wearing jeans, a worn T-shirt, and humility. He’d be dripping with humility.


That should have been her first clue that such a scenario had no bearing on reality.


“Katie,” a voice said.


The sound sent a surge of adrenaline through her frame. She’d forgotten the power and the warmth of his baritone. A quick glance around her classroom assured her that she must be imagining things. Everything was in order: the posters of colorful curriculum, the daily schedule of activities printed on the whiteboard, and, of course, the children. All six of them were mentally disabled, most of them on the severe side of the autism spectrum, but three had added handicaps that required sturdy, head-stabilizing wheelchairs. The bulk of the chairs overwhelmed the room and blocked much of the happy yellow walls and part of the large rainbow mural the kids had helped to paint. The room, with its cluttered order, comforted her and reminded her of all she’d accomplished. There was no need to think about the past. That was a waste of time and energy.


Her eyes stopped on her aides, Carrie and Selena. The two women, so boisterous in personality, were usually animated. But at the moment they stood huddled in the corner behind Austin’s wheelchair.


Carrie, the heavyset one in the Ed Hardy T-shirt, motioned at her.


“What?” Katie pulled at her white shirt with the delicate pink flowers embroidered along the hem and surveyed the stains. “I know, I’m a mess. But did you see how wonderfully the kids did on their art projects? It was worth it. Never thought of the oil on the dough staining. Next time I’ll wear an apron.”


Selena and Carrie looked as though there was something more they wanted.


“Maddie, you’re a born artist.” Katie smiled at the little girl sitting behind a mound of colorful clay. Then to the aides: “What is the matter with you two?”



Selena, a slight Latina woman, shook her head and pointed toward the door.


Katie rotated toward the front of the classroom and caught her breath. Luc, so tall and gorgeous, completely out of place in his fine European suit and a wristwatch probably worth more than her annual salary, stood in the doorway. He wore a fedora, his trademark since college, but hardly one he needed to stand out in a crowd.


As she stared across the space between them, suddenly the classroom she took such pride in appeared shabby and soiled. When she inhaled, it reeked of sour milk and baby food. Her muddled brain searched for words.


“Luc?” She blinked several times, as if his film-star good looks might evaporate into the annals of her mind. “What are you doing here?”


“Didn’t you get my brother’s wedding invitation?” he asked coolly, as if they’d only seen each other yesterday.


“I did. I sent my regrets.”


“That’s what I’m doing here. You can’t miss Ryan’s wedding. I thought the problem might be money.”


She watched as his blue eyes came to rest on her stained shirt. Instinctively she crossed her arms in front of her.


“I came to invite you to go back with me next week, on my plane.”


“Ah.” She nodded and waited for something intelligible to come out of her mouth. “It’s not money.”


“Come home with me, Katie.” He reached out his arms, and she moved to the countertop and shuffled some papers together.


If he touches me, I don’t stand a chance. She knew Luc well enough to know if he’d made the trip to her classroom, he didn’t intend to leave without what he came for. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” She stacked the same papers again.


“Give me one reason.”


She faced him. “I could give you a billion reasons.”


Luc’s chiseled features didn’t wear humility well. The cross-shaped scar beneath his cheekbone added to his severity. If he weren’t so dreaded handsome, he’d make a good spy in a Bond movie. His looks belied his soft Uptown New Orleans upbringing, the kind filled with celebrations and warm family events with backyard tennis and long days in the swimming pool.


He pushed through the swiveled half door that separated them and strode toward her.


“That gate is there for a reason. The classroom is for teachers and students only.”


Luc opened his hand and beckoned to her, and despite herself, she took it. Her heart pounded in her throat, and its roar was so thunderous it blocked her thoughts. He pulled her into a clutch, then pushed her away with all the grace of Astaire. “Will you dance with me?” he asked.


He began to hum a Cole Porter tune clumsily in her ear, and instinctively she followed his lead until everything around them disappeared and they were alone in their personal ballroom. For a moment she dropped her head back and giggled from her stomach; a laugh so genuine and pure, it seemed completely foreign—as if it came from a place within that was no longer a part of her. Then the dance halted suddenly, and his cheek was against hers. She took in the roughness of his face, and the thought flitted through her mind that she could die a happy woman in those arms.


The sound of applause woke her from her reverie.


“You two are amazing!” Carrie said.


The children all murmured their approval, some with screams of delight and others with loud banging.

Luc’s hand clutched her own in the small space between them, and she laughed again.


“Not me,” Luc said. “I have the grace of a bull. It’s Katie. She’s like Ginger Rogers. She makes anybody she dances with look good.” He appealed to the two aides. “Which is why I’m here. She must go to my brother’s wedding with me.”


“I didn’t even know you danced, Katie,” Selena said. “Why don’t you ever come dancing with us on Friday nights?”


“What? Katie dances like a dream. She and my brother were partners onstage in college. They were like a mist, the way they moved together. It’s like her feet don’t touch the ground.”


“That was a long time ago.” She pulled away from him and showed him her shirt. “I’m a mess. I hope I didn’t ruin your suit.”


“It would be worth it,” Luc growled.


“Katie, where’d you learn to dance like that?” Carrie asked.


“Too many old movies, I suppose.” She shrugged.


“You could be on Dancing with the Stars with moves like that.”


“Except I’m not a star or a dancer, but other than that, I guess—” She giggled again. It kept bubbling out of her, and for one blissful moment she remembered what it felt like to be the old Katie McKenna. Not the current version, staid schoolmarm and church soloist in Northern California, but the Katie people in New Orleans knew, the one who danced and sang.


Luc interrupted her thoughts. “She’s being modest. She learned those moves from Ginger and Fred themselves, just by watching them over and over again. This was before YouTube, so she was dedicated.”


Katie shrugged. “I was a weird kid. Only child, you know?” But inside she swelled with pride that Luc remembered her devotion to a craft so woefully out-of-date and useless. “Anyway, I don’t have much use for swing dancing or forties torch songs now. Luc, meet Carrie and Selena. Carrie and Selena, Luc.”


“I don’t have any ‘use’ for salsa dancing,” Selena said. “I do it because it’s part of who I am.”


“Tell her she has to come with me, ladies. My brother is having a 1940s-themed wedding in New Orleans. He’d be crushed if Katie didn’t come, and I’ll look like a hopeless clod without her to dance with.”


Katie watched the two aides. She saw the way Luc’s powerful presence intoxicated them. Were they really naive enough to believe that Luc DeForges could ever appear like a clod, in any circumstance or setting? Luc, with his skilled charm and roguish good looks, made one believe whatever he wanted one to believe. The two women were putty in his hands.


“Katie, you have to go to this wedding!” Selena stepped toward her. “I can’t believe you can dance like that and never told us. You’d let this opportunity slip by? For what?” She looked around the room and frowned. “This place?”


The cacophony of pounding and low groans rose audibly, as if in agreement.


“This may be just a classroom to you, but to me, it’s the hope and future of these kids. I used to dance. I used to sing. It paid my way through college. Now I’m a teacher.”


“You can’t be a teacher and a dancer?” Selena pressed. “It’s like walking and chewing gum. You can do both. The question is, why don’t you?”


“Maybe I should bring more music and dancing into the classroom. Look how the kids are joining in the noise of our voices, not bothered by it. I have to think about ways we could make the most of this.”


But she hadn’t succeeded in changing the subject; everyone’s attention stayed focused on her.


“You should dance for the kids, Katie. You possess all the grace of an artist’s muse. Who knows how you might encourage them?”


Katie laughed. “That’s laying it on a bit thick, Luc, even for you. I do believe if there was a snake in that basket over there, it would be rising to the charmer’s voice at this very minute.”


Luc’s very presence brought her into another time. Maybe it was the fedora or the classic cut of his suit, but it ran deeper than how he looked. He possessed a sense of virility and take-no-prisoners attitude that couldn’t be further from his blue-blood upbringing. He made her, in a word, feel safe . . . but there was nothing safe about Luc and there never had been. She straightened and walked over to her open folder to check her schedule for the day.


Tapping a pencil on the binder, she focused on getting the day back on track. The students were involved in free playtime at the moment. While they were all situated in a circle, they played individually, their own favorite tasks in front of them.


“Carrie, would you get Austin and Maddie ready for lunch?”


“I’ll do it,” Selena said. “And, Katie . . . you really should go to the wedding.”


“I can’t go to the wedding because it’s right in the middle of summer school.”


“You could get a substitute,” Carrie said. “What would you be gone for, a week at most? Jenna could probably fill in. She took the summer off this year.”


“Thanks for the suggestions, ladies,” Katie said through clenched teeth. “But I’ve already told the groom I can’t attend the wedding for professional reasons.”


The women laughed. “I’m sorry, what reasons?” Carrie asked, raising a bedpan to imply that anyone could do Katie’s job.


It was no use. The two women were thoroughly under Luc’s spell, and who could blame them?


“Maybe we should talk privately,” Luc said. He clasped her wrist and led her to the glass doors at the front of the classroom. “It’s beautiful out here. The way you’re nestled in the hills, you’d never know there’s a city nearby.”


She nodded. “That’s Crystal Springs Reservoir on the other side of the freeway. It’s protected property, the drinking water for this entire area, so it’s stayed pristine.”


“I’m not going back to New Orleans without you,” he said.


Apparently the small talk had ended.


“My mother would have a fit if I brought one of the women I’d take to a Hollywood event to a family wedding.”


Katie felt a twinge of jealousy, then a stab of anger for her own weakness. Of course he dated beautiful women. He was a billionaire. A billionaire who looked like Luc DeForges! Granted, he was actually a multimillionaire, but it had been a long-standing joke between the two of them. Did it matter, once you made your first ten million, how much came after that? He may as well be called a gazillionaire. His finances were too foreign for her to contemplate.


“And who you date is my problem, how?”


“If my date tries to swing dance and kicks one of my mother’s friends in the teeth, I’ll be disinherited.”


“So what, would that make you the fifth richest man in the United States, instead of the fourth?”


“Katie, how many times do I have to explain to you I’m nowhere near those kinds of numbers?” He grinned. “Yet.” He touched his finger to her nose lightly. “My fate is much worse than losing status if you don’t come. My mother might set me up to ensure I have a proper date. A chorus line of Southern belles. And I guarantee you at least one will have the proverbial glass slipper and think her idea is so utterly unique, I’ll succumb to the fantasy.”


“Wow! What a terrible life you must lead.” She pulled a Keds slide from her foot and emptied sand out of her shoe. A few grains landed on Luc’s shiny black loafer. “To think, with courtship skills like that, that any woman wouldn’t be swept off her feet—it’s unfathomable.” She patted his arm. “I wish you luck, Luc. I’m sure your mother will have some very nice choices for you, so go enjoy yourself. Perk up, there’re billions

more to be made when you get back.”


“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Katie.”


e was right, but she didn’t trust herself around him. She’d taken leave of her senses too many times in that weakened state. Since moving to California, she’d made it her goal to live life logically and for the Lord. She hadn’t fallen victim to her emotions since leaving New Orleans, and she’d invested too much to give into them now.


“I’m sorry,” she said. “I only meant that I’m sure there are other nice girls willing to go home and pretend for your mother. I’ve already done that, only you forgot to tell me we were pretending. Remember?”


He flinched. “Below the belt.”


A pencil fell from behind her ear, and she stooped to pick it up, careful not to meet his glance as she rose. “I’m sorry, but I’m busy here. Maybe we could catch up another time? I’d like that and won’t be so sidetracked.” She looked across the room toward Austin, an angelic but severely autistic child in a wheelchair. He pounded against his tray. “The kids are getting hungry. It’s lunchtime.” She pointed to the schedule.


Luc scooped a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. “Where else am I going to find a gorgeous redhead who knows who Glenn Miller is?”


“Don’t, Luc. Don’t charm me. It’s beneath you. Buy one of your bubble-headed blondes a box of dye and send her to iTunes to do research. Problem solved.”


He didn’t let go. “Ryan wants you to sing at the wedding, Katie. He sent me personally to make sure you’d be there and sing ‘Someone to Watch Over Me.’ I’m not a man who quits because something’s difficult.”


“Anyone worth her salt on Bourbon Street can sing that. Excuse me—”


“Katie-bug.”


“Luc, I asked you kindly. Don’t. I’m not one of your sophisticated girls who knows how to play games. I’m not going to the wedding. That part of my life is over.”


“That part of your life? What about that part of you? Where is she?”


She ignored his question. “I cannot be the only woman you know capable of being your date. You’re not familiar with anyone else who isn’t an actress-slash-waitress?” She cupped his hand in her own and allowed herself to experience the surge of energy. “I have to go.” She dropped his hands and pushed back through the half door. “I’m sure you have a meeting to get to. Am I right?”


“It’s true,” he admitted. “I had business in San Francisco today, a merger. We bought a small chain of health food stores to expand the brand. But I was planning the trip to see you anyway and ask you personally.”


“Uh-huh.”


“We’ll be doing specialty outlets in smaller locations where real estate prices are too high for a full grocery outlet. Having the natural concept already in these locations makes my job that much easier.”



“To take over the free world with organics, you mean?”


That made him smile, and she warmed at the sparkle in his eye. When Luc was in his element, there was nothing like it. His excitement was contagious and spread like a classroom virus, infecting those around him with a false sense of security. She inhaled deeply and reminded herself that the man sold inspiration by the pound. His power over her was universal. It did not make her special.


“Name your price,” he said. “I’m here to end this rift between us, whatever it is, and I’ll do the time. Tell me what it is you want.”


“There is no price, Luc. I don’t want anything from you. I’m not going to Ryan’s wedding. My life is here.”


“Day and night . . . night and day,” he crooned and then his voice was beside her ear. “One last swing dance at my brother’s wedding. One last song and I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”


She crossed the room to the sink against the far wall, but she felt him follow. She hated how he could make every nerve in her body come to life, while he seemingly felt nothing in return. She closed her eyes and searched for inner strength. He didn’t want me. Not in a way that mattered. He wanted her when it suited him to have her at his side.


“Even if I were able to get the time off work, Luc, it wouldn’t be right to go to your brother’s wedding as your date. I’m about to get engaged.”


“Engaged?” He stepped away.


She squeezed hand sanitizer onto her hands and rubbed thoroughly.


“I’ll give a call to your fiancé and let him know the benefits.” He pulled a small leather pad of paper from his coat pocket. “I’ll arrange everything. You get a free trip home, I get a Christian date my mother is proud to know, and then your life goes back to normal. Everyone’s happy.” He took off his fedora as though to plead his case in true gentlemanly fashion. “My mother is still very proud to have led you from

your . . .” He choked back a word. “From your previous life and to Jesus.”


The announcement of her engagement seemed to have had little effect on Luc, and Katie felt as if her heart shattered all over again. “My previous life was you. She was proud to lead me away from her son’s life.” She leaned on the countertop, trying to remember why she’d come to the kitchen area.


“You know what I meant.”


“I wasn’t exactly a streetwalker, Luc. I was a late-night bar singer in the Central District, and the only one who ever led my reputation into question was you. So I’m failing to see the mutual benefit here. Your mother. Your date. And I get a free trip to a place I worked my tail off to get out of.”


She struggled with a giant jar of applesauce, which Luc took from her and opened easily. He passed the jar back to her and let his fingers brush hers.


“My mother would be out of her head to see you. And the entire town could see what they lost when they let their prettiest belle go. Come help me remind them. Don’t you want to show them that you’re thriving? That you didn’t curl up and die after that awful night?”


“I really don’t need to prove anything, Luc.” She pulled her apron, with its child-size handprints in primary colors, over her head. “I’m not your fallback, and I really don’t care if people continue to see me that way. They don’t know me.”


“Which you? The one who lives a colorless existence and calls it holy? Or the one who danced on air and inspired an entire theater troupe to rediscover swing and raise money for a new stage?” Luc bent down, took her out at the knees, and hoisted her up over his shoulder.


“What are you doing? Do you think you’re Tarzan? Put me down.” She pounded on his back, and she could hear the chaos he’d created in the classroom. “These kids need structure. What do you think you’re doing? I demand you put me down!”

A few good books

I've been happy to report that I've had a great stretch of reading good books this winter.

In the past few weeks, I've read three books that I'm delighted to endorse.

The Master's Wall by Sandi Rog is a wonderful debut novel set in 1st Century Rome. The story follows the life of a boy who was orphaned when his Christian parents were killed by the state. The Master's wall is ver well written and transports the reader to a time a place with great cultural references. One reason why I loved this book is because it shows how difficulties we experience can be redeemed. It a wonderful message woven into a lovely story.

Havah by Tosca Lee is an interesting look at the story of Eve. Tosca has a beautiful literary style of writing that paints lovely word pictures. The story is told in a first person narrative. I loved it! You were introduced to

paradise and then banished into the world we now know. If you should decide to read it, keep an eye out for page 123, it made me laugh out loud. Some universal truths are, well, universal.

Almost Forever by Deborah Raney. Of course, I recommend ANY book by Deb. She's a wonderful writer who creates wonderful stories, and she is one of those authors who consistently

delivers a satisfying read. Here's the intriguing description you'll find online: Unearthing a lost memory may cause her to lose everything she holds dear... but could it also set her free?

Did you notice?

A few weeks ago I met a friend for lunch. During our visit I made a comment on some of the café’s artwork. She mentioned that I always seem to notice details. She’s right.

I’m always on the lookout for interesting snippets to incorporate into my fiction. As an author I’m always reading, and I love to take note of an interesting detail that pulls me further into the fictional dream. The more deeply I’m drawn into the story, the more meaningful the book becomes and the more it lingers with me after I’ve read the last page.

Several years ago I went to an Expressionist exhibit at an art museum. The curator mentioned that long before multimedia, people would go to an art show then discuss the picture much in the same way that people discuss a new movie release. That thought intrigued me. To do that, the critics must have REALLY looked hard at the image.

Over the weekend I visited the Denver Art Museum. I strolled through the galleries and wondered what the artists were trying to say through the paintings. Why was the scene outdoors instead of inside? Why was the subject glancing to the right? What significance is there in the other objects in the painting?

When you consider the art, you can find stories inside. The experience helped to jumpstart my creativity. I wondered about so much of what I noticed. One family portrait had the family gathered around the end of the table, but if you look carefully, there was a figure at the other end of the table, shaded so much that you might have missed her. Why did the painter depict her like that? Could she have been a beloved child, now deceased? Another portrait showed a young girl holding a doll dressed in black, one that looked like a little adult. I read some information about that painting, and it said that perhaps the child’s mother was no longer living.

There are so many stories swirling around us, both written with words and crafted with a painter’s brush. What make the stories intriguing are the details.

It’s up to us to notice the details. And it’s all in the details, don’t you think?

BTW, the above portrait is called Lady in Pink, artist unknown. What could her story be?

One-day local writing conference!

If you're within driving distance from Colorado Springs, or if you want to fly in, there's a great one-day conference coming up in three weeks.

The Peak Writing Conference will be held Saturday, February 5th from 8:00am - 4:00pm.

The keynote speaker is Karen Ball, Executive Fiction Editor for B&H Publishing Group. She'll be teaching three sessions on taming fiction dragons: You may not know it, but they’re there. Five fiction dragons hiding in your writing, just waiting to breathe fire and knock your readers right out of the story. But you can tame them! Bring your current WIP, and get ready to get down nd dirty. In these interactive sessions, we’ll take on the dragons together, and by the time we’re done, they won’t just be tame—they’ll be gone!

There will also be an author/editor panel and a Q&A.

The conference will be held at Holy Trinity Anglican Church, 13990 Gleneagle Drive in Colorado Springs.

I'll be there, will you?

Dear Writer's Block . . .

If you’re a writer, do you carry around a notepad? You should.

I keep a small notebook handy to jot down ideas, bits of overheard conversations, interesting names, intriguing billboard messages, names of streets or towns, and anything that catches my fancy or sparks my imagination. I’ve been able to create scenes from snippets I’ve written down in my little 4.5 x 3.25 inch composition book.

I was looking through my little notebook today and came across a letter I’d written to the dreaded writer’s block. It made me chuckle, and I decided to share it with you.

Dear Writer’s Block,

Thank you for stopping by today. I appreciate your urge to tell me that I don’t have the talent to write another book. Thanks for reminding me of that. (Insert sarcastic snicker here.)

Now that we’re having this conversation, I’ve decided that we should call off our relationship. You are too high maintenance for my temperament. You are also a liar. My writing therapist says you’ve been filling my head with matters that are neither true nor important.

You are a manipulator, Writer’s Block. Despite your best efforts, I will continue to write because of my desire to communicate, to assure people that they’re not the only one who feels “that way,” and to discover more about the human spirit and the power of love. I also believe that by developing my craft, I will move forward in my calling, despite your lack of support.

And so, Writer's Block, this is it. I will no longer allow you to sidetrack my writing efforts. Goodbye, adios, auf wiedersehen, ciao, viso gero, sayonara -- and if you don't understand my sentiment in any of those languages, then let me give it to you simply: don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you!

Very truly your Ex-Friend,

Megan

The Kindness of Strangers

If at some point in life you haven’t relied on the kindness of strangers or haven’t extended a kindness to a stranger, then face it—you’re not really living. Instead you must be moving through your days wrapped so tightly in your own self-absorbed world that you either haven’t noticed the kindnesses or you don’t bother to pay attention those sharing earth with you.

Several years ago I endured a sad experience that left me with the stunning knowledge that no one needs to show kindness to me. And as a result, I make it a point to always be thankful for even small acts of consideration. I know that someone else’s time or effort on my behalf is a gift.

Last month I was carrying two boxes, one stacked on the other, and was walking into a building. In front of the door were three or four concrete cylinders. You know, those structures to prevent someone from driving through double doors. Anyway, the wind was blowing, and my hair had webbed across my face. I decided to lean the boxes into the cylinder to free a hand so I could tuck my hair behind my ear.

While walking toward the cylinder, a woman’s voice behind me yelled out, “Oh, no. To your right. Move right!” As I got closer to my destination her shouts grew louder and more frantic, “Careful, no! Uh, uh—you’re going to crash!”

I made my desired connection, pushed my hip into the boxes, swiped my hair off my face, and tucked it behind my ear. As I did, footsteps quickened across the pavement, and the woman stopped next to me, asking, “Are you okay?”

When I explained I only wanted to clear my hair from my eyes, we both got a good laugh out of the situation. (I wonder what she though of me as I made a beeline straight to the barrier.) She shook her head and started off on her own errand, but I caught up to her and thanked her for her kindness and attention.

Lately I’ve been thinking about how we interact with the world around us. I’m trying to be more purposeful in acknowledging the little things and rejoicing in the kindness I receive or extend. Sometimes paying it forward is noticing the small things and being of assistance to one another in even trivial matters.

Joy isn’t necessarily found in the big events of life, but rather in the little, day-to-day moments. Don't you agree?

Wise Words to Close Out 2010

Do you keep a collection of quotes? I do. I keep lists and files of stuff that catch my fancy, and surprise, surprise—many of them are pretty phrases or wise words.

This is my last post of 2010, so I’m leaving you with a few of my favorite quotes:

Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Do what you can, with what you have, where you are. ~Theodore Roosevelt

Whatever we worship, short of God, is sure to be our undoing. ~Mignon McLaughlin

Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, a touch that never hurts. ~Charles Dickens

Never confuse thoughtlessness with malice. ~Robert Charles Whitehead

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. ~Philippians 4:8

What about you? Do you have a favorite quote to share?

Happy New Year!

Goodbye 2010, Hello 2011

I welcomed 2010 with a sense of optimism and enthusiasm. I had a list of goals to accomplish, and some of them have been duly crossed off.

The year 2010 unfolded with promise at the dawn of each day. Some days I lived up to the promise, some were disappointing. I tried to do my best, but I know there were days I skated by. Some moments were fabulous, others not so good.

I laughed, I questioned, I tried. Some days held proud successes, and others were total failures. I loved with abandon on some days and guarded my heart on others. I had days filled with joy, and too many days held captive by grief.

The year 2010 was another year to live and love and labor, to win and lose. As it shrinks away, I’m not stirred by sentimentality at seeing it evaporate. It will forever be one of those years that serve as a time marker for my family. Someone we loved has passed, and that’s what will stand out most in our minds when we recall 2010.

In three days the New Year will be ushered in with noisemakers and fireworks—another year with promises that will bloom and with treasures of love and friendship to savor.

I wish you a sweet and challenging 2011. I wish you a year to enjoy success, a year to delight in love and friendship.

I hope you grasp 2011 with purpose and squeeze every ounce of meaning and joy and accomplishment out of it. I hope that this time next year when 2011 is about to become another memory, you have thoroughly used it up and wrung it out with the business of living.

Have a blessed 2011, and live it well and with meaning!

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man. ~Benjamin Franklin

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas! I wish you the best of the season. Joy. Hope. Love. Peace.

Reflect on the true meaning of the day--that Jesus came to this world as a babe to save the lost and lonely. He bridged the gap between man and God so that we can have communion with the King of Kings, Lord of the Universe, and Lord of our hearts.

Savor moments with loved ones, smile at a stranger, make a Christmas wish. And please remember that Christmas must be found in your heart, not beneath a tree or wrapped in shiny paper with bows.

Have a merry, blessed Christmas!

And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store? What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?
~Dr. Seuss

All the best to you and your family.

The photo is a scene from my Christmas village. In the top center of the image, Ebenezer looks through the window of Old Fezziwig's with the Ghost of Christmas Past, and Bob Cratchit walks by with Tiny Tim on his shoulder.

*If you'd like to be on my newsletter list, please send me an email. My Christmas newsletter went out yesterday, but I'll be glad to send you a copy.

Moms--need encouragement?

Last week I got a brochure in the mail about the 2011 national Hearts at Home conferences. This year's theme is Mom Revolution. Moms, if you need encouragement and refreshment, check out the Hearts at Home website and plan on attending one of the conferences.

A few months ago I had the pleasure of attending a joint event sponsored by Hearts at Home, MOPS International, and Focus on the Family. That's where I first heard of the Mom Revolution 2011 Conferences, and now registration is open.

I'm looking forward to experiencing the Western Conference this coming October in Colorado Springs. It looks like it's going to be fabulous. Pencil it into your schedule so you won't miss out! See you there.

Divine Humanity

For as long as I can remember, my mother put this reproduction antique post card on the table next to our nativity set each Christmas season. The nativity set was passed on to me a few years ago. In the box was the post card with a sentiment written by Phillips Brooks, a man known as the greatest American preacher of the 19th century and author of the Christmas hymn, O Little Town of Bethlehem.

Each year when I read the post card, a thrill of joy bubbles up from my heart. At this beautiful time of year, I wish you a similar thrill of joy. . .

“Lift up your eyes to the great meaning of the day, and dare to think of your humanity as something so divinely precious that it is worthy of being made an offering to God.

Count it as a privilege to make that offering as complete as possible, keeping nothing back; and then go out to the pleasures and duties of your life, having been truly born anew into His divinity, as he was born into our humanity on Christmas Day.”

Since I was a very young woman, I have given myself, heart and soul, to my Lord. I offer each of my days to Him. And in a most humble way, I think of my writing as something so divinely precious that it is worthy of being made an offering to God as well.

*This is a re-post of previous years, but I love it so much I trot it out every holiday season.

It’s the sentiment, stupid.

I’m one of those people who usually put some brainpower into my gift giving. After all, it’s easy to toss out some money and fulfill an obligation, but it’s more meaningful when you consider the personality of the recipient.

For me, giving gifts is more rewarding than receiving gifts. When I was a child, a neighbor family used to give “big” gifts for Christmas: easy chairs, pianos, televisions, etc. Things weren’t like that in my home, but it didn’t diminish the joy of Christmas at all.

The best part of the Christmas season is expressing affection with family, friends, and neighbors. I know it sounds corny, but for me, it’s true. I love to stop and visit, chat and admire the pretty decorations we display, and get face-to-face and heart-to-heart with those I hold dear.

On the left is a snapshot of three of my favorite Christmas gifts. :)

Christmas is worth celebrating because Jesus came into the world, and because I chose to be a Christ follower, my world is richer, deeper, and more joyful. Jesus is the reason for the season. He is the gift.

I wish you peace, love, and joy this Christmas and the time to share those sentiments with people who are special to you.

Light a Candle

Tonight is The Compassionate Friends’ 14^th Worldwide Candle Lighting. If you want to participate in remembering children who have died at any age from any cause, then light a candle for one hour at 7 p.m. local time.

Believed to be the largest mass candle lighting on the globe, the Worldwide Candle Lighting creates a virtual wave of light, hundreds of thousands of persons commemorate and honor the memory of children in a way that transcends all ethnic, cultural, religious, and political boundaries.

I’ll be thinking of my nephew Michael tonight and of all others who have lost a child.

‘Tis the season to be nasty?

Merry Christmas! Happy Chanukah!

Extending the greetings of the holidays is risky business these days. Apparently some people feel put upon to have to endure the kind thoughts and warm wishes that are shared this time of year.

Grinches and Scrooges are hijacking society. Whatever happened to live and let live? In modern America people who protest religious Christmas displays are old news. How very sad. I truly believe that people of faith are among the last people group to whom it’s okay to be biased and discriminatory. It’s PC to bash the believers. Sigh.

Another example of the Grinch in action happened this week in the UK when a rare thorn tree, a symbol of Christianity, was vandalized. The perpetrator hasn’t been caught, and in all honesty it could be an anti-monarchist, an anti-Christian, or someone who’s an atheist.

It is unfortunate that such ugly actions take place during the season of love, light, and perpetual hope. And all I can say in response is a heartfelt, “Merry Christmas!”

This or that?

Choices. Some are infinitely important, others not so much. One that comes to mind with the Christmas season is angel or star. Know what I’m talking about? It’s a question of what to use to decorate the top of your Christmas tree. We go with angel. Just saying.

My darling husband and I are beginning to dream about our next vacation choice. I’m not a cruise-kind-of girl. Give me solid earth, perhaps a spot with a nice beach and tropical weather. BTW, I also have an irrational fear of pirates. Yup, that made my travel agent laugh till she cried.

So when we go on a getaway vacation, it’s usually a tropical beach. Today I glanced at the news and saw another cruising nightmare—rough seas. Check this out.

Yes, I'm pushing for my next tropical vacation to be on a beach, under a palapa, with a good book. How about you? What’s your dream vacation?

Ho, ho, holidays!

Thanksgiving was a little more than a week ago, and now the Christmas season is ticking along.

Saturday my husband and I did ALL of our Christmas shopping, wrapping, and boxing (to ship). When we arrived home, our neighbor was putting the finishing touches on his exterior Christmas decorations—wearing a delightful Santa cap complete with mouse ears. :)

Our outdoor decorations went up Black Friday. Now the inside of our home is decked out, and I love it. We got a new, artificial tree this year. We’ve done real trees for a long time, but the convenience of a pre-lit tree spoke to me this year. It’s got so many lights that the entire living room glows in the evening. Lovely.

Besides decorating my home, I also think about decorating my heart for the Christmas season. For me, a bit of introspection is an important part of preparing for Christmas. Sometimes I listen to (and sing along with) Christmas carols, and soak in their meaning. The other night I sat in the glow of my Christmas tree and thought how Jesus is the light of the world, and more importantly, the light of my world. I also plan on spending time meditating on the prophetic names of Jesus.

What about you? Do you decorate your heart for Christmas?

Sometimes Life's a Puzzle

I’ve been quiet for too long on my blog. Sorry.

Other than an ad for a writer's seminar, I’ve not posted since August 2^nd. I’ve meant to, but tragedy struck my family in mid-August, and it seems I lost my words.

On August 14^th my 23-year-old nephew Michael was killed in a freak incident. The grief my family is experiencing is deeper than words. And because most of the language I could use to explain the situation seemed trite, I kept quiet.

Four months have passed. It seems impossible that the sun rises and other families go about their business and experience happiness while my family grieves. But life goes on, with or without our whole-hearted participation.

My niece Jen put it best when she said we lived in a happy bubble. We were aware of problems others’ had and of the tragedies that punctuate the news, but thankfully we were blissfully removed from the sorrowful side of life. But with Mike’s death our happy bubble has burst, and now there’s no way to go back to living in that happy, carefree place.

During the cooler months my dining room table usually holds a jigsaw puzzle, and each of us take our turn at putting it together. We started our first puzzle of the year, and the other night I sat down to check it out.

Someone had connected the puzzle’s perimeter, but there remained 1,300+ pieces to be sorted and put into their proper place. I stared at the void in the middle of the puzzle outline and stirred the hundreds of little pieces with my fingers.

Completing the puzzle seemed like an impossibility—sorting through the hundreds of colored pieces to detect which are the flowers, which are the cobblestone street, which are the choppy seas, and which are the purple-hued sky. But I knew if I kept at it, the puzzle would form.

The question of why Michael’s life was so short is a puzzle. But I have faith that someday the pieces will come together. I have faith that someday when we recall Mike it will be with a happy heart instead of a broken heart. I have faith that Mike’s death didn’t come as a surprise to God, and that He welcomed Michael with open arms. I have faith that with each brilliant sunrise and with each magnificent sight that is set before us, God is urging us to grasp with joy that tiny piece of the puzzle that is life and continue to trust Him.

Be cheerful no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ Jesus to live. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (The Message)

The Storycrafter's Seminar

I'm so looking forward to an upcoming one-day fiction seminar!

It's called The Storycrafter's Seminar. You should consider going. I'll be there!

Featuring Susan May Warren
RITA Award Winning Novelist and Writing Coach

Saturday, November 13th, 2010—8:30 am - 4 pm
Registration check-in and continental breakfast begin at 8:30 am, seminar begins at 9

Graystone Castle Event Center
(formerly Radisson Graystone Castle)
I-25 & 120th Avenue
Thornton, Colorado

Have you always wanted to write a story but didn’t know where to start? If so, the Storycrafter's Seminar is for you! RITA Award-winning author and writing coach Susan May Warren will teach you story structure, go step-by-step in the character creation and plotting process, then show you how to apply it to your story. She’ll brainstorm your idea, share essential secrets of storytelling, and finally, you'll take home a plan that will act as a map for your novel. With time for writing, as well as learning, it’s a day for writers of all levels that will jumpstart your novel onto the road to publication.

Speaker

Susan May Warren is the RITA award-winning author of twenty-five novels with Tyndale, Barbour and Steeple Hill. A RITA winner, as well as a four-time Christy award finalist, she’s also a multi-winner of the Inspirational Readers Choice award, and the ACFW Book of the Year. A seasoned women’s events speaker, she’s a popular writing teacher at conferences around the nation and the author of the beginning writer’s workbook: From the Inside-Out: discover, create and publish the novel in you!. She is also the founder of www.MyBookTherapy.com, a story-crafting service that helps authors discover their voice. A full listing of her titles, reviews and awards can be found at www.susanmaywarren.com.

The event will be held in Thornton, Colorado, 12 miles north of downtown Denver and 30 minutes from the airport, in the Graystone Castle Event Center (formerly Radisson Graystone Castle). Admission to the event includes:

• Storycrafter's workbook
• Continental breakfast
• Deli lunch buffet

CLICK HERE TO REGISTER

Truths for Mature Humans, kind of . . .

One of my darling daughters sent me the following “Truths for Mature Humans.” Some of them are universal, but some seem more suited to a generation younger than mine. Regardless, I’d like to share these truths and the thoughts they generated.

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

Perhaps this is true, but I think it’s likely something a 20-something would think of first.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

Uh, huh. This is universally true, although there are some folks who still won’t admit they’re wrong. That's when you have to be the bigger person and give them grace.

3. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

Yes, indeed. There is a great need for a sarcasm font, but it should be used very carefully. Remember the first rule of etiquette—don’t make anyone else uncomfortable.

4. How are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

Corner-seam tip to corner-seam tip. It’s an art, but one that can be learned.

5. Was learning cursive really necessary?

Wow. This is such a younger-generation thing. You were raised knowing keyboarding skills, unlike older generations that actually hand-wrote notes and letters.

6. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

Exactly!

7. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

Interestingly, I believe they used to do this 30-40 years ago. At least in a general way: an accident, a short/long illness, natural causes.

8. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

Perhaps you’re not eating well enough, you need some vitamins, or you need to reevaluate what you pack into your day. It’s not “normal” to be tired all the time. (I know of which I speak, being 50+ and feeling energized during the day.)

9. Bad decisions make good stories.

Amen to that! Just make sure you learn from your mistakes.

10. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection, again.

If someone were to create a Facebook page to "like" on this topic, I'd like it.

11. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

Yikes. A universal fear/truth.

12. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this - ever.

Time to respect the laundry duties. Buy a home dry cleaning kit and a wooden-dowel clothes rack. You can survive your wardrobe requirements.

13. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? ), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

Ahh. Technology. When I was a kid the telephone was tethered to the wall and there was no such thing as voice mail.

14. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

Brilliant idea!

15. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Don’t text and drive!

16. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

It’s a learned skill, I believe. In the meanwhile, drink plenty of water.

17. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

Agree! Do those jerks think they’re better than everyone else, and they don’t have to stand in line?

18. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

Time to slow down!

19. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!

Yes, a universal truth.

No sense being dumb if you don't show it. . .

And, boy did I show some dumb this morning.

In nice weather I walk an hour a day outside on the Cherry Creek Trail, which runs by my neighborhood. It's a beautiful spot. I've seen ducks and egrets in the creek, deer, coyote, and the occasional wild turkey roaming across the prairie. Sometimes we'll see a bull snake. It's not a big deal, other than they're four feet long and scary looking.

We've been told that bull snakes were introduced into the area to keep down the rattle snake population, which is a good thing in areas widely populated by humans.

Well, today I saw a 4' bull snake. It was easing its way across the path. Not wanting to slow down, I pounded my feet to get the snake to move faster.

Except there was one problem. The snake wasn't a bull snake -- it was a rattle snake. Yikes!! That snake coiled up in a flash, twitched its tail and sounded its telltale rattle. Yes, I quickly got on my way.

Wikipedia says the range of a rattle snake is two-thirds of its total length, and that it can strike literally faster than the human eye can follow. It looks like I was a pretty lucky dummy.

Friends, I have learned some lessons from my mistake. One, respect ALL snakes, and two, practicing your patience is an art that is never perfected.

Wikipedia also says, "Most species of rattlesnakes have hemotoxic venom, destroying tissue, degenerating organs and causing coagulopathy (disrupted blood clotting). Some degree of permanent scarring is very likely in the event of a venomous bite, even with prompt, effective treatment, and a severe envenomation, combined with delayed or ineffective treatment, can lead to the loss of a limb or death. Thus, a rattlesnake bite is always a potentially fatal injury. Untreated rattlesnake bites, especially from larger species, are very often fatal. However, antivenom, when applied in time, reduces the death rate to less than 4%."

Happy Thoughts

I took a short nap today -- not something I often do. I must have needed the break because I feel so rested and at peace despite the fact that I should have been pounding out my word count. I think I had some pleasant dreams.

I'm a bit of a homebody. Sure, I enjoy going out and spending time with friends, but my best days are those spent at home. Right now I'm writing on my Adirondack chair in my little backyard.

I love the sounds of my neighborhood -- a car door closing, voices of neighbors greeting one another, my lovely fountain, the breeze through the Aspens, and of course, the nearly ever-present hum of lawn mowers (this is suburbia, you know).

This little piece of earth is my happy place. Right now my garden is blooming with different types of lilies. They're shades of yellow, orange, and pink. My favorite is pictured below. It's the color of the first blush of sunset, before the sun sinks low enough to create an explosion of bright orange and pink.

I've always craved a quiet, gentle place to relax. Now I realize that I've created such an oasis in my own backyard. I'm like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I understand that all I need is right here at home.

How about you? Where's your happy place? Is is close to home or is it found on an adventure?

Welcome Deborah Vogts

I had the pleasure of meeting author Deb Vogts last summer at a publishing event. She's a wonderful, down-to-earth gal, one that you feel you've known longer than you actually have known her. We hit it off. I picked up a copy of her first novel, Snow Melts in Spring, and fell in love with her writing.

Her second novel, Seeds of Summer (the second

book in the Seasons of Tallgrass series) has recently released. I'm enjoying reading it very much. Deb has a way with words and I love the way she describes the setting for her novels, the Flint Hills of Kansas. Beautiful.

She's agreed to stop by and visit, and she's answered some questions:

1. Tell us about your latest novel, Seeds of Summer. - Seeds of Summer is the second book in the Seasons of the Tallgrass series. It’s a heart-warming contemporary romance set in the Flint Hills of Kansas where a former rodeo queen abandons her dreams in order to care for her deceased father’s ranch and her two half-siblings, only to realize with the help of a young new pastor that God can turn even the most dire circumstances into seeds of hope.

2. What’s your favorite turn of phrase or word picture, in literature or a movie? This is a quote I’m actually using in my third book, Blades of Autumn, taken from Skimming the Cream by Zula Bennington Green (Peggy of the Flint Hills). I think it describes the setting for the book amazingly well . . .

“The Flint Hills are simple and quiet and timeless. They belong to the people who live there, to men who ride in seasoned boots and weathered hats, to men who farm the little valleys and pasture the big hills, to women who look out their kitchen window every day at a familiar curve of sky. And to any soul attuned to beauty and peace.”

3. What’s your favorite holiday and why? - Christmas. I love all the symbols and family traditions that accompany this most precious holiday.

4. What is the most surprising discovery you’ve made on your journey of publication? “Reader mail.” This is something I never equated into the “author picture.” I LOVE getting letters or emails from my readers. That has been such a huge blessing to me.

5. Which compliment related to your writing has meant the most and why? Right before Seeds of Summer released, my publisher ran a special promotion on Amazon to give away my first book, Snow Melts in Spring, as a free Kindle download. I thought this would be a great thing! Little did I know there might be consequences for doing this—poor reviews by those not expecting a Christian romance. On the very day I received my first 2 star review, I also received an email from a soldier in Bagdad, who had read my book as part of that free promotion—and loved it. The words he wrote in his email served as inspiration to me that God was in control, no matter how many poor reviews I might receive. If you’d like to read the email, I blogged about it here: http://deborahvogts.blogspot.com/2010/05/reader-mail-letter-from-soldier.html

6. What makes you happy? – The scent of a rose or the approach of rain, a newly planted garden, baking bread, playing the piano, spending time with my family, driving into the Flint Hills, hearing from someone who enjoyed reading my books!

Bio: Deborah Vogts and her husband have three daughters and make their home in Southeast Kansas where they raise and train American Quarter Horses. As a student at Emporia State University studying English and journalism, Deborah developed a love for the Flint Hills that has never faded. In writing this series, she hopes to share her passion for one of the last tallgrass prairie regions in the world, showing that God’s great beauty rests on the prairie and in the hearts of those who live there.

A Note From Alison Strobel

Hey there! I just wanted to say thanks to my fine blog hostess and to her readers. I have been really excited to see how many people are thinking of picking up the book because of the reviews they read during the blog tour.

And thank you to everyone who entered the contest! I'll be drawing a winner on July 18 and posting it on my blog. If you haven't stopped by my blog or website yet, I hope you'll pop over sometime and say hi in the comments or on the guest book.

Also, if you're interested in hearing about my next releases and any other exciting news that happens to come up, please sign up to receive my announcements--the sign-up is on my website. I have another novel coming out in September, two more next year, and two children's books that my husband and I wrote (the first of which comes out August 1), so there will be plenty of news coming, and I try to host contests now and then on my blog, too.

Thanks again! And if you do decide to pick up The Weight of Shadows and give it a read, please come tell me what you thought of it. I mean it. :)

~Alison

Just Observing

When you’re out and about, even if it’s only your backyard, I think it’s important for a writer to be a good observer. Noting what you see, hear, feel, smell, or taste adds to your mental database of adjectives and phrases you can use in your work someday.

I’ve been noticing the prairie grasses on my (almost) daily walks. They’re nearly up to my waist and surround the concrete path that is the Cherry Creek Trail. The other day a breeze was blowing. Some of the grasses have flat fronds with a hand-like shape and others are thin and tapered, looking deceptively fragile.

As the wind stroked the grasses the ones with the flat fronds waved to me as though I were a trusted friend, while the thinner grasses bowed down like I was passing royalty.

I’m fairly certain that someday I'll create a scene that features those winsome grasses.

*The photo above doesn't show the grasses I'm talking about but it's one of the views on my walk. I took these photo a few years ago. Fortunately, the scene remains the same.

Welcome Alison Strobel

I'm happy to welcome author Alison Strobel to my blog. I've had the pleasure of reading her most recent release (courtesy of her publisher, Zondervan), The Weight of Shadows.

Alison agreed to answer some questions for us --

Tell us about your latest novel, Weight of Shadows.

The Weight of Shadows is about Kim, a young woman who is haunted by guilt and desperate for a family. When she starts dating Rick, a fellow foster child, she thinks she’s found everything she needs--someone to love her, and someone to whom she can spill the secret that weighs on her so heavily. What she really ends up finding, however, is a way to pay penance for her sins when Rick begins to abuse her. But when he turns on their infant daughter, Kim must decide if her needs are worth putting her child in danger--and how to ensure Rick doesn’t use her secret against her if she decides to leave.

What’s your favorite turn of phrase or word picture, in literature or a movie?

Oh gosh, I have a terrible memory for things like that--but I can tell you that Terry Pratchett is, in my opinion, the king of word pictures and figurative language, so whatever ones I’d hoped to remember forever were probably from his books. :)

What’s your favorite holiday and why?

Christmas! I am a sucker for Christmas. I love the music, I love giving gifts, I love the traditions and teaching my children about why we celebrate it. It’s a thousand times better if there’s snow, too. There usually was when I was growing up in Illinois, but my years in California really gave my love of Christmas a run for its money. I just couldn’t get into it when it was warm enough to have Christmas dinner outside. And Christmas lights on palm trees? Just not the same. I’m really happy to be back in a place where the holiday gets the proper atmospheric costuming. :)

What is the most surprising discovery you’ve made on your journey of publication?

That Christian readers can be incredibly judgmental of authors based on what they write. Not all of them, obviously, but I’m always stunned when I or another author I know get slammed for writing realistic stories. If we portray an un-Christian character in a way that is absolutely believable, given who that character is and what their worldview is like, or if we make a Christian character make a really bad choice, there are readers out there who will question my/the author’s very faith because we dared to put something “un-Christian” in the book. I understand if readers don’t like to read about certain types of behavior, and I always feel badly when something I've written makes someone uncomfortable, but to question the state of my soul because I wrote about, say, a non-Christian who was a womanizer and a drunk is beyond ridiculous.

Which compliment related to your writing has meant the most and why?

I’ve had people tell me they’ve stopped reading in order to pray for the characters because they became so real to the reader. I take that as a huge compliment! I work really hard to make the people in my books believable and easy to relate to, and when I get feedback like that it tells me I’m hitting the bull’s-eye.

What’s your favorite meal to cook?

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Cook!? Yeah, I don’t so much do that. At least not well. My favorite dish to eat that I know how to cook would be homemade mac and cheese. But I wouldn’t say I enjoy cooking it--or anything else for that matter. I really wish I did enjoy it, though.

Describe your perfect “day off.”

Sleeping in, having a breakfast of Cheerios with milk and brown sugar, spending the morning reading a really wonderful book in a very comfortable chair and spending the afternoon crocheting in the company of good friends. And somewhere in there would be a blended mocha. And maybe some cake.

What makes you happy?

My kids’ laughs and kisses. Dinner alone with my husband. Hearing how one of my books has touched someone, or made them think. Girls’ night out.

A piece of jewelry, the fragrance of lilacs, and the song of a mourning dove – make a scene.

The setting: An upscale funeral home in Massachusetts, present day, early May, Sunday morning. The room is prepared for a memorial service, with rows of folding chairs filling the room and the walls lined with lilacs. The windows to the room are open to the garden outside, where a mourning dove can be heard in its nest in one of the many cherry trees that decorate the property. At the front of the room is an open casket made of mahogany and lined with pink satin. An easel beside the casket holds a poster with two photos: One is from WW2, depicting a young woman with a bright smile wearing a smart servicewoman’s uniform. The other shows what we assume is the same woman, aged a great many number of decades, with thinning silver hair set in curls and a face that reflects a handful of sorrows. Her smile is small, but sincere; her eyes seem focused on something far in the distance. Above the photos are the words Gabriella “Gabby” Trane ~ October 29 1919 - May 10, 2008.

The action: Chrissy Corbel is going to her great aunt’s funeral today. She hasn’t spoken to this aunt in six years, since a falling-out between her and Chrissy’s mother at a family reunion. Her mother refused to attend the service today, but insisted Chrissy go to represent their side of the family--as well as to ensure that the broach her mother wants is not buried with the deceased. If it is on Aunt Gabby--which it is--she is to figure out a way to get it off and bring it home. It is a very valuable piece, fashioned by Carl Faberge in the 19th century, and Gabby stole it (according to Chrissy’s mother) from Chrissy’s grandmother twenty years ago just before she died. Chrissy’s mother believes it to be hers, and procuring it will not only allow her to “avenge” her mother, but will also provide her with the money she needs, after she sells it to the Smithsonian, to finally pay off the debt she owes to the IRS.

Chrissy arrives at the memorial service late, and it is in full-swing when she finally walks in. The room is packed--Aunt Gabby was a popular lady--and she sweats through the whole service wondering if she’s really going to have to steal jewelry off a dead woman in front of a crowd. When the service ends people linger and converse, and she spends the next hour dodging estranged family and humoring little old ladies who instantly recognize Gabby in Chrissy’s face and want to talk with her. When she finally gets close enough to the casket, she realizes the broach is indeed pinned to the lavender pink tweed jacket someone chose as Gabby’s burial outfit. Panicked that she really will have to commit theft, she falls back and regroups with a cigarette outside, where she recalls the incident that led to the division between her mother and her aunt. When she goes back inside after psyching herself up for the robbery, she realizes the broach has already been stolen.

Thanks for stopping by, Alison. I enjoyed reading The Weight of Shadows, and I encourage my friends to read this thought-provoking novel. It's not an easy book to read because the author tackles a difficult subject head on. The best part of The Weight of Shadows for me was that it caused you to think of how the choices we make impact not only our lives, but others around us too.

You can visit Alison online at her blog. If you're interested in winning some books or a gift card, you can enter her blog tour contest by leaving a comment on this post. On July 18th, which is one week after the close of the tour, she'll choose one comment from a randomly selected blog to receive either autographed copies of her first three books or a gift card to their favorite bookstore.

Want to know what your problem is?

“Want to know what your problem is?”

The voice came from my right. I turned to find a pleasant-looking woman smiling at me, waiting for my response to her question. Her voice held both confidence and compassion, her eyes sparkled, and her posture was welcoming.

Having never been approached by a stranger with such an interesting question, I was intrigued. My author’s brain scrambled, creating several scenarios from the unusual interaction. (Perhaps this is a prompt for a future novel!)

Wouldn’t life be grand if someone could size you up, determine your needs, and offer a solution so easily?

Well, of course I said yes. After all, who wouldn’t want a pleasant, confident woman defining my problem and subsequently solving it within seconds of laying eyes on me?

I wish this fairy godmother had given me the secret to happiness or the key to security. I wish she could have looked into my heart and found the perfect prescription to making my day more blessed. But that didn’t happen. Easy answers and quick fixes, though desirable, are not common to the human condition, and that’s okay. If life is too easy the rewards might be cheapened. I’m fine with the fact that to achieve you have to work. To maintain relationships you have to be available and giving. To enjoy the fruits of your labor you have to, well, labor.

Are you wondering what my problem is?

I was in a store trying on a dress and looking in the three-way mirror in the dressing room when she approached me. The dress was about 99% perfect, but there was something off. She knew right away—the shoulder seams needed to be taken in an inch. She stepped up behind me and pinched the fabric up on each shoulder.

Now she didn't give me the secret to making a million dollars or the method to achieve world peace, but I just returned from the tailor and in approximately two weeks I’ll have the perfect summer dress.

I'm Re-inspired!

A week ago today I drove to Colorado Springs to attend the Glen Eyrie Writer's Workshop. It was fabulous. A plus is that the workshop is held in beautiful Glen Eyrie, property crowned with a magnificent castle.

The GE workshop is an opportunity to get instruction in a small, more-intimate setting. There were only 60 writers and four instructors. Angie Hunt, Nancy Rue, Kathy Mackel, and James Scott Bell were the instructors. On the opening night the instructors discuss what area they will be specializing in. Angie did nuts and bolts of writing, Nancy concentrated on relationship (between characters and the readers), Kathy was all about story, and Jim taught about aspects of a novel.

I chose to to go to Kathy's sessions. Wonderful! That lady is a plot doctor. She gave me great insight and encouragement.

I had attended the GE Workshop once before, in 2007. It was nice to go back to see old friends and meet new ones. The theme this year was re-inspired. Great choice.

The photo below is special. It's the members of my local writing group, Words For The Journey, with Jim Bell.

I've already got the 2011 dates on my calendar: June 12th to 15th. Perhaps you might want to check it out.