In Celebration of Writer Appreciation Week

A special thanks to agent Nathan Bransford for creating Writer Appreciation Week.

It soon becomes apparent to an author that if you’re writing to be published, you can’t just be an artist, a creator, a master of your craft. You have to have stealth-like moves, brain power in the gigahertz range, and the ability to thwart all impending doom. When you get knocked around, you have to pretend it doesn’t hurt, get back up in stoic form, and like Bruce Willis’ character on Die Hard, make extraordinary feats look easy.

So when determining which part of the publishing process is most difficult, you’d have to take into account the following:*

a) craft the story...one to two years, if you’re snappy
b) revise the story until you’ve rewritten and subsequently memorized all 330 pages
c) obtain an agent...most agents reject 99% of submissions. Now remember, you were once the fastest swimming sperm out of millions…
d) sell it to a publisher
e) build a platform...oops, you were supposed to have done that two years before you started writing your book
f) exploit yourself online
g) create a brilliant viral marketing scheme including book trailer so funny or dramatic it rivals an MGM creation
h) ensure your book gets into bookstores...gotta get a blurb by a NYT bestselling author. Dig deep with those connections
i) sell enough copies so you can keep writing...remember those Bookscan numbers? They can bite your rear in half. One chomp.
j) blog three times per week, keep your tribe happy on FB & Twitter while keeping up with book #2
k) obtain a coveted national TV spot or a rave review in a major newspaper
l) a dose of luck that would be akin to winning the $1 million PowerBall always helps
m) stand outside Rockefeller Plaza at 4 a.m. to secure a prime spot with your book poster. Then when Al Roker does the weather, pump it up and down above his head.
n) If you’re lucky enough to get a fantastic agent, editor, and publishing team like I did, the C-N will be delightful. Kinda like eating a fluffy piece of chocolate cake with hot fudge in the middle...with a side of vanilla bean ice cream.

Would I do it again? Abso-friggin-lutely. It’s an obsession love like none other. Your spouse may hate you, your mother may block your calls, any word related to the publishing industry may become banned in your own home and even your neighborhood, but the love of the craft is more potent, more pining and unrelenting, and more dangerous than Shakespearean prose.

So to those writers ready to shred the manuscript and become an organic farmer, I beg you to reconsider and instead ride on this for awhile. Kathryn Stockett who wrote my favorite book to date, THE HELP, was rejected 45 times. Well actually, she said she didn’t really know exactly how many times she was rejected because the fact of the matter was, she stopped counting at 45. Now she's #4 on the New York Times bestsellers list.

As one New York editor put it, “People think publishing is a business, but it’s a casino.”

I do like the bright, flashing neon signs.




* This is to be squeezed in somewhere between your full-time job and raising your children

Seduction on Aisle Five

The other day during breakfast, Sean casually suggested we create a separate budget item called, “Target book budget.” I looked at him like he had just poured orange juice over his cold cereal. I refused to believe I had ever actually purchased books at my Oasis, the Omnipotent One where the price is always right. After all, I really try to support our local indie bookseller in SLC, The King’s English (see below for proof).

I have never set out to buy a book at Target, ever. It’s just that on my tri-weekly trip, I inevitably pass the aisle of beguiling literature where all the covers are face out. As I pass the said aisle, I see a delicious cover with three cute birds dotting the center. “Quick, cover the eyes,” I remind myself. Then I swear I hear one say, “Hey baby, come look over here.” Then I think I hear, “Hot stuff, you look good in those jeans (the same jeans I thought made my rear double in size when I put them on that morning), but you’ll look even better if you read this. You know you want to.” Before I realize what is happening, I’m stuck with my nose buried deep into some book called, The Girls From Ames, which by the way, was telling me it had some Lindt excellence white coconut chocolate hidden somewhere between the covers.

How does one resist?

One doesn’t. I grab it from the shelf and flip right to the acknowledgments page (weird ritual), then the author bio, and finally I partake of the first square of white chocolate – Chapter One – and it reels me in like a rainbow trout stupidly chomping down on the fluorescent pink power bait (even though it knew better).

Bobby Banjo can sense my book point-of-no-return like a bird dog sniffing out the course. And he intends to exploit me at this vulnerable time in my life. “Mommy, I’ll be right over here…”

“Yeah, okay Judd. Whatever, just…”

“Mom!” he says. “It’s not Judd. It's Judd the Stud.” I look at him over my book. “Okay, whatever, Judd. Uh, Judd the Stud. Just stay close,” I say, as the bubble above my heads shows my hands rubbing together in the glee of 10 minutes of solitary book reading. When I realize I’m finished with the first chapter and he hasn’t tried to interrupt me at least five times, I throw the book in my cart.

Whoops? Did I just do that?

I head around the corner. Not there. I cruise down a few more aisles until I finally find him here. "What? Why here, Judd?” I ask. “Judd the STUD, Mom.” He says poking his head out.


I still have no idea what he was doing. But it reminded me that I needed something on that aisle anyway. And, that I had forgotten to check out that book called Sarah’s Key…

I need your help!

There are few aspects of parenthood that are as visceral as the need to protect our children. So it’s no surprise that when there’s a scraped knee, bully, or fire-breathing dragon threatening our children, we are on the front lines with artillery ready to comfort, then fire.

What IS a surprise is that insurance companies all across the country continue to discriminate against individuals with autism by denying medically necessary, evidence based treatment that is prescribed by a doctor. Now, we as parents are forced to deal with the biggest bully of them all. It’s unfortunate, but true, that this large, powerful industry and lobbying group can withhold something so vital to our children’s health and future. And it’s up to us to change public policy for our country’s children and for future generations.

I'll never forget the wave of sick that swept over me when I realized appropriate life-saving treatment for our son could cost up to $50,000 per year. We risked bankruptcy, became deeply in debt, and suffered immeasurable stress so we could implement treatment prescribed by our son's physician. 72 children are diagnosed with autism each day. Families are placed in this agonizing situation, most of whom will never be able to afford a proper diagnosis let alone treatment no matter what they sacrifice. So what results? Divorce. Bankruptcy. Job loss. And a child who never has the opportunity to progress or even recover from autism.

Justice.

Please join me by calling and emailing Speaker Pelosi (202) 225-0100 and Majority Leader Reid (202) 224-3542. All you need to say is this, "Health reform that does not stop autism insurance discrimination is unacceptable." It only takes a couple clicks to make an impact. Take action HERE!

Together, we can save the futures of countless children with autism all across the country.

For those of you who followed me through Clay's Law, this is federal legislation (vs state) that will be much more comprehensive, helping families all across the nation.

Spiderman and Other Tall Tales

One nice thing about long summer days is the ability to sneak in some good reading time while one of your kids is dressed up as Spiderman climbing the lamp post right outside the window and while the other two boys are busy watching…


If you find yourself in this unique position, you must whip out your favorite book. Then record what you’re reading on Good Reads. Oh, and don’t forget to friend me. I’d love to see what books you love.

Currently reading: The Girls from Ames by Jeffrey Zaslow

Favorite book I’ve read in the last three months: Still Alice by Lisa Genova

What are you reading?

Father's Day Gift Idea - Wrapped With Love

"Riesens" Why I Love You

1. Purchase a bag of chocolate Riesens (chewy chocolate caramels).

2. Get some manly scrapbook paper – maybe with a Boston Terrier print or something (rub it in the dirt if you think it will look even manlier).

3. On the plain white side of the scrapbook paper, write reasons why you love your husband/dad and why you appreciate him. Get the kids involved. They might even tell you he let them watch a PG-13 movie or let them eat ice cream cones on the couch or other secrets that you may not know about.

4. Cut in strips. Unwrap all Riesens. Wrap strip of paper around the Riesen. Wrap back up in original wrapper. Set aside. Eat one (not the one you just wrapped!). Then another. Repeat.

5. Place the newly wrapped Riesens in a clear cellophane bag and tie with a little note that says “Riesens Why We Love You.” Be specific - and clever! Make him laugh. (Caution: don't bring up the corner in the kitchen where he always places his spare change, credit cards, and hankie. Just don't.)

I gave this to my husband for our anniversary, and it is the gift that keeps giving (Agh - cliche alert!). He would come home from work everyday talking about which "Riesen" he had eaten that day. In my case, I'd have irritable bowel syndrome of the mouth as I wouldn't be eating just one.

Summer = Life Eternal

Playing on iTunes – Abracadabra by Steve Miller Band (that must be why I'm imagining salsa dancers wearing hats with hot pink feathers fluttering with every hip movement)

It doesn’t take the fresh smell of grass clippings to shoot me into summer nostalgia. It does take a week of the boys being home from school wondering how it could only be noon even though they’ve already emptied the garbage, practiced the piano/guitar, read for 30 minutes, attended swim lessons, eaten three otter pops each, built a fort in the field behind our house, and played me in a heated game of speed. Doesn’t this break some natural law? Can the summer solstice exist everyday for three months out of the year? There should be scientific studies on the connection in which the average summer day is lengthened by three hours without us actually knowing it. I think most moms of school age children would agree.

What to do to tackle these days of Tuck Everlasting? Here’s my rough draft list…

• Go ice blocking (come on, you’re not that old)
• Make boats from empty water bottles and duct tape. Then float down the ditch.
• Make a target and have bb-gun shooting contests (don’t worry we’ve never shot our eyes out. Knock on wood.)
• Ride city transit to the donut shop
• Ice skating
• Planetarium
• Picnic in the park (bring a Frisbee and a dog if you have one)
• Take scooters to the roller skating rink
• Make a fort – outside or inside
• Go to your closest independent bookseller and attend an author reading/signing.
• Write a children’s book together (www.mightyauthors.com)
• Blow up water balloons. If you have a trampoline put them on the tramp and see how many you and your kids can pop.
• Repeat

I'd love to hear your idea. LOVE to.

Firewood or Family Heirloom?

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how much more enriched our lives become when we create meaningful memories with family and friends. Sure we have our jobs, to do lists, pets to feed, “important” responsibilities like leading a twibe on Twitter, but when we inevitable hit that tree that we didn't see ahead, suddenly all of that is meaningless. Think for a minute. When you get together with family as adults, what do you do? We talk about the time we as sisters squirted brown Mary Kay make-up into our brother’s brand new underwear and left it on the floor for him to discover. It’s those memories that add texture and color to our lives. So let’s start creating…

I’m about to share with you what I think is the coolest (please circle one) time capsule/family discussion piece/framed honeycomb ever designed. I found it in a catalog - love at first glance. Uncommon Goods shipped it two weeks ago. I opened the package like when I was eight years old and it was the box that contained my first cabbage patch doll. And I could hardly wait to reveal my "when my boys are adults conversational piece." I carefully painted and prepped it for the big day. Never mind that Sean cocked an eyebrow when I unveiled…pause for anticipation…our brand new family wishing/worry wall. I began to doubt my passion for this home furnishing/sentimental family heirloom/fully recyclable wall hanging.

It wasn’t until I found the perfect moment to sit down with my boys (Sean included) that I explained why this was so special. As I brought it out from behind the piano, their eyes grew wide. Their eyebrows furrowed. Their eyes scanned the frame with question marks. Finally in exasperation, in stereo, they asked, “What is it?” I took out the small box that contained the neon-colored papers. I explained to them that they were to write their hopes, dreams, goals, and fears on the strips of paper. Then roll them up and tuck them inside the holes. To my surprise they excitedly sorted through the paper picking their favorite colors. They immediately started scrawling their thoughts on the paper. Then they carefully selected the hole to tuck it into. They sat back to admire with the satisfaction of creating a unique piece art. Yesterday, when I picked up the boys from school, Drew excitedly told me that he had taken first place, beating every fifth grader in his school, in the 50-yard dash. And hey Mom, “Can I write it on, you know, those pieces of paper and stick it in the wall.” Whose your Mama?

Many of you may know my favorite book is Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd. This book is special because the unique story almost becomes palpable; the writing makes it feel like butterfly wings are tickling your skin, and the characters and symbolism are deep and rich. If you haven’t read this book, you’re missing out on something akin to the richest chocolate ever made. You’ll understand a new dimension of what makes this wishing wall - now hanging in our hallway - so special.



What would you write on your wishing/hopes/fears/successes wall?