Laura Lofgreen,one of my blogging friends, just did an interview with me that is up on her blog:
http://mydeartrash.blogspot.com/2010/02/janette-rallison-young-adult-author.html
I think all of my followers should read it, because I can actually be insightful and witty when given questions I can write out and then revise. In real life, not so much. In real life, I can never think of the word I want and half of my sentences end with the phrase, " . . . you know, that, um, thing . . .(insert wild hand gesture to emphasize my point)"
So in order to entice you to read the interview, I'll give away a book (I'll let you choose which)to one person who leaves a comment on my blog about something they learned about me on Laura's blog. (No fair asking for My Double Life though, because I don't have copies of it yet.)
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
And the winners are . . .
After my husband read my rejection contest blog, he stared at the screen and said, "Wow, those stories are really depressing."
Exactly. Welcome to my life. And yet at the same time I think we all have the right to congratulate ourselves, ladies--and you too Ms., I mean, Mr. Jensen. We're tough. We take this and keep trying. Really, you all deserve good things in life for pursuing your love of writing. I wish I could send you all books and boxes of chocolates and warm hugs.
The mighty Random Oracle over at Random.org chose Noble Standing as the winner, but I'm also going to send a book to Danyelle Ferguson, who showed us that getting a bad publisher is worse than getting no publisher at all--be careful when you accept a contract. Don't be so eager to see your book published that you accept a bad contract. It isn't worth it.
I have a friend who writes romances and was so excited to get a contract for her first book and the one dollar royalty she would make off of each book--until after she signed the contract and found out that the publisher's average print run for their books was about a hundred books. Yep, then she realized she'd make about a hundred dollars for all of her work. How much do you suppose that is an hour?
I'm also sending a book to Tiffany Dominguez. 72 queries and 4 requests for fulls on a book that already has an interested editor? There but for the grace of George Nicholson at Sterling Lord, go I.
So winners, send me your snail mail address at jrallisonfans at yahoo dot com so I can send out the books.
And I'll be giving away another book at my next blog, so be sure to try, try, try again!
Exactly. Welcome to my life. And yet at the same time I think we all have the right to congratulate ourselves, ladies--and you too Ms., I mean, Mr. Jensen. We're tough. We take this and keep trying. Really, you all deserve good things in life for pursuing your love of writing. I wish I could send you all books and boxes of chocolates and warm hugs.
The mighty Random Oracle over at Random.org chose Noble Standing as the winner, but I'm also going to send a book to Danyelle Ferguson, who showed us that getting a bad publisher is worse than getting no publisher at all--be careful when you accept a contract. Don't be so eager to see your book published that you accept a bad contract. It isn't worth it.
I have a friend who writes romances and was so excited to get a contract for her first book and the one dollar royalty she would make off of each book--until after she signed the contract and found out that the publisher's average print run for their books was about a hundred books. Yep, then she realized she'd make about a hundred dollars for all of her work. How much do you suppose that is an hour?
I'm also sending a book to Tiffany Dominguez. 72 queries and 4 requests for fulls on a book that already has an interested editor? There but for the grace of George Nicholson at Sterling Lord, go I.
So winners, send me your snail mail address at jrallisonfans at yahoo dot com so I can send out the books.
And I'll be giving away another book at my next blog, so be sure to try, try, try again!
Monday, February 15, 2010
Rejection Contest
My daughter worked at Putnam going through the slush pile a few summers back. She told people her official job title was: Dream Crusher.
A lot of agents could also put this on their business cards.
During my recent agent-quest, I only got one form rejection--which would seem pretty good until you realize that I had a manuscript an editor wanted (The sequel for My Fair Godmother) which was in need of a contract. In my query letters, I mentioned this fact. It's the equivalent of telling agents: Hey, you get guaranteed payment for signing me as a client.
I still got rejected. Heck, I still got agents that didn't even bother to reply with a polite, "No Thanks."
But due to the last post, I've heard a lot from other writers about their rejections. My favorite is from a very talented author who had an agent email her a form rejection while he was simultaneously watching Avatar. (She knew because she was following him on twitter.) That's got to make you feel special. The agent considered your life work during the slow parts of a movie. (If only the author had thrown in a kick-butt, anorexic looking, blue alien, she might have gotten farther with her manuscript.)
In my book, How to Take the Ex Out of Ex-boyfriend, rejection letters play a pivotal part in the plot. (This is why authors are sick; we take our traumatic moments and put them in books to make money off of them.) So leave a comment telling me your worst rejection moment and the random number generator will choose who gets a free copy of the book.
See, sometimes rejection pays off.
Monday, February 08, 2010
The writer and self-esteem
Since My Double Life is coming out in three months, I've written a lot of emails to my editor, Tim, AKA the bow-tied one, about marketing stuff. (I want to hold some sort of celebrity look-alike contest, but more about that later.)
The bow-tied one didn't answer my emails for like, two months straight.
I admit right off that I'm a worrier. When I was first married, I had to have many talks with my husband about unexpectedly coming home late from work. My imagination kicked in at twenty minutes. By thirty minutes, I was planning his tearful funeral and trying to figure out how I would rebuild my shattered life. You just can't do that to a woman for very many days in the week.
Thank goodness for cell phones. Now I can call him when he's late. He doesn't pick up, but at least this way I can stop worrying about any demise that would also involve the vaporization of his cell phone.
I was okay at first when I didn't hear from Tim. I just figured he didn't want to talk marketing. But about the time that second month rolled around I started creating scenarios. Putnam was dropping me. He'd been fired. He was mad at me. He had cancer. The whole company was dissolving.
He finally called. I told him about my dropping me-fired-mad-cancer-company dissolving thoughts. "You shouldn't worry me like that," I told him. "Writers have vivid imaginations."
"Yeah," he said. "Vivid imaginations and low self-esteems. It's a deadly combination."
"Low self-esteem?" I repeated a bit aghast. "Nobody has ever told me I have low self-esteem."
"Well, they're not going to say it to your face," he said.
Apparently they wouldn't, but he would. This is just one more editorial service the bow-tied one offers.
I've thought about that conversation a lot lately. I don't think I have low self-esteem. Sure, I know I'm far from perfect. I could do a blog of all my faults. Heck, I could do a blog of all the things I've lost lately, and it would be a hefty list. (My Garmin, my car keys, my temper, the time.)
But that's one of the nice things about being a writer. I don't beat myself up over, say, being terminally disorganized. I just tell myself: I'm an artist. We're supposed to be different.
In general, I'm pretty happy with myself and life. I'll tell you my secret. I try not to concentrate on my achievements (which I think would depress anybody). Instead I aim for a clean conscience. It's amazing how awful I feel when I know I've done something wrong. I can't feel good about myself until I've at least tried to set it right. But when my conscience is clean, I like myself.
So I really wondered about Tim's comment about self-esteem. Did I have a poor self-esteem and I just didn't know it? Did everybody out there think a lot more of themselves than I did, and I'd just never noticed? Why was he so sure I had low self-esteem?
Then I left my old agent and went out into the harsh, cold cyber world to find a new one. Suddenly the writers and low self-esteem comment made sense. We're a bunch of people who pour our hearts into creating a story that we love. We not only do our utmost to create a nearly living breathing thing (at least it lives and breathes for us) but we quite literally put a slice of our mind and soul out there for people to judge.
And so many people find our best lacking. So many people find our souls not even worthy of their time.
What normal person could go through that repeatedly and not feel the pangs of a stabbed ego? Ditto for those revision comments that editors throw around like confetti at a Mardi Gras parade.
A normal person wouldn't subject themselves to this sort of treatment. Which leads me to believe that writers don't have low self-esteems. We're the ones with high self-esteems or we would have fled this business at the first rejection letter. Or the twelfth. Or the fiftieth. And certainly by that 1,000 revision comment. (My Double Life had 1,200)
Thankfully, I wasn't agentless for long. But to all of you in the trenches: hang in there, and hang on to those self-esteems. You're going to need them later.
The bow-tied one didn't answer my emails for like, two months straight.
I admit right off that I'm a worrier. When I was first married, I had to have many talks with my husband about unexpectedly coming home late from work. My imagination kicked in at twenty minutes. By thirty minutes, I was planning his tearful funeral and trying to figure out how I would rebuild my shattered life. You just can't do that to a woman for very many days in the week.
Thank goodness for cell phones. Now I can call him when he's late. He doesn't pick up, but at least this way I can stop worrying about any demise that would also involve the vaporization of his cell phone.
I was okay at first when I didn't hear from Tim. I just figured he didn't want to talk marketing. But about the time that second month rolled around I started creating scenarios. Putnam was dropping me. He'd been fired. He was mad at me. He had cancer. The whole company was dissolving.
He finally called. I told him about my dropping me-fired-mad-cancer-company dissolving thoughts. "You shouldn't worry me like that," I told him. "Writers have vivid imaginations."
"Yeah," he said. "Vivid imaginations and low self-esteems. It's a deadly combination."
"Low self-esteem?" I repeated a bit aghast. "Nobody has ever told me I have low self-esteem."
"Well, they're not going to say it to your face," he said.
Apparently they wouldn't, but he would. This is just one more editorial service the bow-tied one offers.
I've thought about that conversation a lot lately. I don't think I have low self-esteem. Sure, I know I'm far from perfect. I could do a blog of all my faults. Heck, I could do a blog of all the things I've lost lately, and it would be a hefty list. (My Garmin, my car keys, my temper, the time.)
But that's one of the nice things about being a writer. I don't beat myself up over, say, being terminally disorganized. I just tell myself: I'm an artist. We're supposed to be different.
In general, I'm pretty happy with myself and life. I'll tell you my secret. I try not to concentrate on my achievements (which I think would depress anybody). Instead I aim for a clean conscience. It's amazing how awful I feel when I know I've done something wrong. I can't feel good about myself until I've at least tried to set it right. But when my conscience is clean, I like myself.
So I really wondered about Tim's comment about self-esteem. Did I have a poor self-esteem and I just didn't know it? Did everybody out there think a lot more of themselves than I did, and I'd just never noticed? Why was he so sure I had low self-esteem?
Then I left my old agent and went out into the harsh, cold cyber world to find a new one. Suddenly the writers and low self-esteem comment made sense. We're a bunch of people who pour our hearts into creating a story that we love. We not only do our utmost to create a nearly living breathing thing (at least it lives and breathes for us) but we quite literally put a slice of our mind and soul out there for people to judge.
And so many people find our best lacking. So many people find our souls not even worthy of their time.
What normal person could go through that repeatedly and not feel the pangs of a stabbed ego? Ditto for those revision comments that editors throw around like confetti at a Mardi Gras parade.
A normal person wouldn't subject themselves to this sort of treatment. Which leads me to believe that writers don't have low self-esteems. We're the ones with high self-esteems or we would have fled this business at the first rejection letter. Or the twelfth. Or the fiftieth. And certainly by that 1,000 revision comment. (My Double Life had 1,200)
Thankfully, I wasn't agentless for long. But to all of you in the trenches: hang in there, and hang on to those self-esteems. You're going to need them later.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The oddities of Amazon . . .
I admit there are a lot of things to love about Amazon. It's a great way to find all of those older books that your local book store doesn't carry. But I'm not a big fan of all the used & new books from other sellers that pop up any time you search for an author's books. If you buy one of the 53 used copies that show up on the book's release day, the author doesn't get any royalties from the sale. Plus I'm nearly positive that those copies that appear on the release day are review copies that were sent to reviewers for free. It just seems wrong for reviewers to then turn around and make a buck at the author's expense.
But I didn't mean to blog about that.
Here is the weird thing about those sale prices for books that are out of print. They can get bizarrely expensive. Someone just sent me a link to one of my out of print books, Time Riders.
Now, the problem with this book is that it had no editing done to it. In fact, the publisher inserted mistakes into the text. I never would have let Cedar Fort print the book if I had known this was going to happen, because it is really, really embarrassing. Not only are words missing and occasionally it's unclear who is speaking, but during the story, the date changes by decades. At the climax the heroine's hands are tied behind her back, then she's grasping at her captor's arms, then her hands are mysteriously tied behind her back again.
Yeah, it would have been nice if an editor caught that.
I was glad when the book went out of print.
But you can buy a used copy of the book on Amazon for a mere 900.00. In fact, you can buy two for that price. The new ones are a bargain at only 230.00.
http://www.amazon.com/Time-Riders-Sierra-St-James/dp/1555177646
I wish there was a way I could put a note next to those figures. For 900.00 I would personally read any interested buyer a version without the mistakes.
But I didn't mean to blog about that.
Here is the weird thing about those sale prices for books that are out of print. They can get bizarrely expensive. Someone just sent me a link to one of my out of print books, Time Riders.
Now, the problem with this book is that it had no editing done to it. In fact, the publisher inserted mistakes into the text. I never would have let Cedar Fort print the book if I had known this was going to happen, because it is really, really embarrassing. Not only are words missing and occasionally it's unclear who is speaking, but during the story, the date changes by decades. At the climax the heroine's hands are tied behind her back, then she's grasping at her captor's arms, then her hands are mysteriously tied behind her back again.
Yeah, it would have been nice if an editor caught that.
I was glad when the book went out of print.
But you can buy a used copy of the book on Amazon for a mere 900.00. In fact, you can buy two for that price. The new ones are a bargain at only 230.00.
http://www.amazon.com/Time-Riders-Sierra-St-James/dp/1555177646
I wish there was a way I could put a note next to those figures. For 900.00 I would personally read any interested buyer a version without the mistakes.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
In which Janette begs for romance--wait, will that title get me blocked in filters?
When I was a teenager I used to love to read romances. Seriously, I was a Harlequin addict. I thought men were supposed to be tall, dark, and brooding. Now I have stacks of YA books to read (have to keep current on the genre) and a stack of books my friends have written (because my friends are cool) and, oh yeah, I’m supposed to be writing books not reading them.
Still, I love romance. I miss romance. I don’t read contemporary romances because most of them are hot enough that they singe your eyebrows right off when you read them. But the other day I wanted a nice, mindless romance. A hot guy and witty banter.
A couple of months ago I picked up an inspirational romance. There was plenty of inspiration, a lot of information about the shipping industry, but no discernible romance. I don’t think the characters ever kissed. They just went out and helped the poor then decided to get married at the end.
I felt cheated.
The next time I picked up a regency romance. (Not yours, Sarah Eden, this was before I got a stash of yours.) I figured it wouldn't be too steamy in the regency era as they had chaperons and what not. (I know, I know, stop laughing at me.)
I’m not sure how steamy it was because I had to stop reading before I got that far. The writing was bad but the writer made up for it by throwing in lots of exclamation points. After saving the heroine from the advances of another man, we read:
The duke’s eyes softened for a moment then regained their habitual gallantry. (Really? Whose point of view are we in? If we’re in hers—and we must be because he can’t see his own eyes, how does she know they’re habitually gallant? She’s just met him.)
She asks, “You know my name, sir?”
And he says, “Indeed I do, fair creature! May I lead you in?”
Fair creature? Did men ever talk that way? I’m imagining my husband coming home from work and saying, “How was the day, fair creature?” Nope. It just doesn’t work in dialogue.
So I figure I can't just pick up any old romance book. I'm either too picky or too prudish for them. Still, eventually I'll be done the sequel to My Fair Godmother. (I'm about 3/4 the way done and I'm supposed to be done by next week.) I'll want a romance. In fact, I'll want many. Tell me your favorite.
Still, I love romance. I miss romance. I don’t read contemporary romances because most of them are hot enough that they singe your eyebrows right off when you read them. But the other day I wanted a nice, mindless romance. A hot guy and witty banter.
A couple of months ago I picked up an inspirational romance. There was plenty of inspiration, a lot of information about the shipping industry, but no discernible romance. I don’t think the characters ever kissed. They just went out and helped the poor then decided to get married at the end.
I felt cheated.
The next time I picked up a regency romance. (Not yours, Sarah Eden, this was before I got a stash of yours.) I figured it wouldn't be too steamy in the regency era as they had chaperons and what not. (I know, I know, stop laughing at me.)
I’m not sure how steamy it was because I had to stop reading before I got that far. The writing was bad but the writer made up for it by throwing in lots of exclamation points. After saving the heroine from the advances of another man, we read:
The duke’s eyes softened for a moment then regained their habitual gallantry. (Really? Whose point of view are we in? If we’re in hers—and we must be because he can’t see his own eyes, how does she know they’re habitually gallant? She’s just met him.)
She asks, “You know my name, sir?”
And he says, “Indeed I do, fair creature! May I lead you in?”
Fair creature? Did men ever talk that way? I’m imagining my husband coming home from work and saying, “How was the day, fair creature?” Nope. It just doesn’t work in dialogue.
So I figure I can't just pick up any old romance book. I'm either too picky or too prudish for them. Still, eventually I'll be done the sequel to My Fair Godmother. (I'm about 3/4 the way done and I'm supposed to be done by next week.) I'll want a romance. In fact, I'll want many. Tell me your favorite.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Manatees, Barbara and otherwise
Nicole, one of my intrepid fans, has asked me a couple of times to mention the plight of manatees in my blog. It isn't really a writing-young-adult-fiction sort of topic, since I have never written or read a book about manatees. (Hmmm . . . that might be a possible plot idea . . .)
So why am I going to do it anyway?
Because I am a sucker for animals. This is easily evident from the pack of stray felines who have taken up residence in my yard, and who I keep feeding even though I know full well that by doing so I have become the neighborhood's token Crazy Cat Lady. I can't help myself. They are furry and cute and stare at me through the glass door, patiently waiting for me to come out with catfood. How can you not feed something that's doing that?
But nobody else ask me to do something like this or my blog will become one long pitch for endangered animals. And we already have that. It's called the National Geographic. My husband insists on a subscription but I hardly read it because it just depresses me. It's like: Gee, which ecosystem is the world destroying this month?
But in the spirit of love for manatees, (who I'm sure would stare at me through my kitchen door if they could) I'm posting Nicole's link and my favorite manatee song. (There are so many to choose from.) If you don't have time to watch the whole thing then just watch from 2:30
Ahh, the wisdom of tomatoes.
http://www.savethemanatee.org/default.html
So why am I going to do it anyway?
Because I am a sucker for animals. This is easily evident from the pack of stray felines who have taken up residence in my yard, and who I keep feeding even though I know full well that by doing so I have become the neighborhood's token Crazy Cat Lady. I can't help myself. They are furry and cute and stare at me through the glass door, patiently waiting for me to come out with catfood. How can you not feed something that's doing that?
But nobody else ask me to do something like this or my blog will become one long pitch for endangered animals. And we already have that. It's called the National Geographic. My husband insists on a subscription but I hardly read it because it just depresses me. It's like: Gee, which ecosystem is the world destroying this month?
But in the spirit of love for manatees, (who I'm sure would stare at me through my kitchen door if they could) I'm posting Nicole's link and my favorite manatee song. (There are so many to choose from.) If you don't have time to watch the whole thing then just watch from 2:30
Ahh, the wisdom of tomatoes.
http://www.savethemanatee.org/default.html
Thursday, January 14, 2010
On the eve of the Newbery announcement . . .
This song is for me and all the other authors in the world. Just listen to the words and you'll get what I'm humming to myself . . .
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Wisdom of Authors
I love hanging out with other writers. It feels so validating. (I'm not crazy, I'm just a writer.) YallaPalooza was lots of fun because I got to meet old friends and new authors--and I also picked up some great quotes I thought I'd pass along to the rest of you who may be inflicted with a writing addiction.
"Every revision, you have to make the guy hotter."--Angela Morrison
"The first two chapters of any first draft generally need to be cut."--Aprilynne Pike
"I've worked out a Ninja Replacement Score for novels. It's basically the number of characters that need to be replaced by ninjas to make the book good."--Janni Lee Simner (I did not ask her what my score was.)
And last but not least on the subject of being an author, Carol Snow said, "It beats having a real job."So true, so true.
Here's a picture of me, Janni and Aprilynne--the fairy girls.
Monday, January 04, 2010
YAllapalooza 2010!
You know how every once in awhile I do an event and then I beg followers to show up so I don't look like a loser? Well, I'm not doing that this time, because I know this event is so cool you'll all willing want to go without me begging. Look at all of the awesome authors that will be converging on Changing Hands next Saturday. (And yes, authors do indeed converge, just like SWAT teams.)
Tween & Teen Event - Yallapalooza!
Start: January 9, 2010 - 4:00pm -7:00
Changing Hands Bookstore
6428 S McClintock Dr
Tempe, Arizona 85283
Changing Hands Bookstore and Hoodlums Music and Movies present YAllapalooza 2010, a literary musical extravaganza featuring live bands, pizza, games, prizes, and a chance to mix and mingle with your favorite YA authors and get books signed! We’ll have a live game show that tests contestants’ knowledge of young adult and middle grade literature with games GUARANTEED to amaze and amuse.
Los Angeles authors include Cecil Castellucci, Carol Snow, Blake Nelson, Andrew Smith, Mark London Williams, and Amy Goldman Koss.
Arizona authors include Janette Rallison, James A. Owen, Angela Morrison, Janni Lee Simner, Tom Leveen, Tony Carrillo, Aprilynne Pike, and Jon Lewis. Bands to be announced.
Also, those of you who went to Project Book Babe last April will want to read the Book Babe's thank you to the many people who supported her during her cancer treatment. The news is good and she's done with treatment! Yay Faith!
Here is a link to her blog:
projectbookbabe.com/faith
Tween & Teen Event - Yallapalooza!
Start: January 9, 2010 - 4:00pm -7:00
Changing Hands Bookstore
6428 S McClintock Dr
Tempe, Arizona 85283
Changing Hands Bookstore and Hoodlums Music and Movies present YAllapalooza 2010, a literary musical extravaganza featuring live bands, pizza, games, prizes, and a chance to mix and mingle with your favorite YA authors and get books signed! We’ll have a live game show that tests contestants’ knowledge of young adult and middle grade literature with games GUARANTEED to amaze and amuse.
Los Angeles authors include Cecil Castellucci, Carol Snow, Blake Nelson, Andrew Smith, Mark London Williams, and Amy Goldman Koss.
Arizona authors include Janette Rallison, James A. Owen, Angela Morrison, Janni Lee Simner, Tom Leveen, Tony Carrillo, Aprilynne Pike, and Jon Lewis. Bands to be announced.
Also, those of you who went to Project Book Babe last April will want to read the Book Babe's thank you to the many people who supported her during her cancer treatment. The news is good and she's done with treatment! Yay Faith!
Here is a link to her blog:
projectbookbabe.com/faith
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Yay! I won!
Thanks guys, Just One Wish won the reader's choice for best cover.
I feel oddly popular. Take that, all those girls who were cheerleaders while I was in junior high!
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Why You Shouldn't Trust Contests . . .
You know how you're always being urged to choose you're favorite singer, dancer, whatever?
It's a totally unreliable way to determine which item is best, because you just know that said singer, dancer, whoever, is begging all of their friends to vote for them.
Just like I'm going to ask all of you to go to:
http://ldspublisher.blogspot.com/
and vote for Just One Wish in their best cover contest. (Hey, I made it to the finals without even voting for my own cover.) Of course, I would never ask you to vote for my cover if you didn't think it was best, but I'll point out that Just One Wish has sparkles in the dandelions. It sparkles. Sort of like an ultra hot vampire on a sunny day. Edward would choose my cover . . .
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Why books make the best presents
Books make great presents. And I'm not just saying that because the paperback version of My Fair Godmother came out yesterday.
Years ago my sister told me the secret to happy children on Christmas morning. You can't just buy them stuff, you have to give them something to do after they're done unwrapping things. If they're bored, they'll whine and think they didn't get anything.
So this year I'm giving lots of books. Fiction, non-fiction, and comic books (Pearls Before Swine--my favorite is pig).
Today my middle daughter and her brother were arguing over the computer. "Let me have it today," middle daughter said. "I won't be using it at all on Christmas."
Score.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
And the winner is . . .
Random.org in all of its glorious randomness has chosen Lauren. So Lauren, send me your address and I'll send you your book.
Merry Christmas everybody!
Merry Christmas everybody!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Book give-away and one of my most memorable holidays
I did a Christmas blog and book give-away for another blog and figured, hey, I should do the same thing here on my blog. After all, I'm going to have to go to the post office one way or the other. (Note to self: next year don't do give-aways during the holiday season.)
I have plenty of nice Christmas memories: The time a bus full of strangers all sang Christmas carols together for no other reason than it was Christmas Eve. The time my family delivered Christmas presents to a family in need. After we left the presents on the porch and doorbell ditched the house, we watched their little children come outside and search the sky for Santa Claus. I’ve forgotten most of the presents I received over the years, but I remember laying in the living room every year, lights off, just enjoying the glow of the Christmas tree.
Perhaps my most memorable Christmas is the one that happened after my mother died of cancer. I was about six. I say about, because I don’t know the date my mother died. I remember the day. It was a Saturday morning, but I can’t tell you what time of year it was. I’ve purposely not asked and not looked at any documents that would tell me. It’s not an anniversary I want to note on the calendar every year.
Some months later the holiday season rolled around, but my father said we weren’t going to have a Christmas tree that year. He just couldn’t do a big Christmas. I can imagine how overwhelmed he felt, alone with four children to raise—and in all likelihood he was angry at God for taking his wife. At least, I would be. Still, at six years old, I had perfect faith that we would have a Christmas tree. Christmas trees were part of Christmas, and Christmas was coming.
We did end up getting a tree. I remember, perfectly preserved the way some memories are, the pastor of our church showing up at our house and taking the tree inside. “I know what you said about not getting a tree this year,” he told my father. “But I had to bring one. If it’s okay, I’ll set it up.”
How could my father say no? Four children were suddenly jumping around the living room with glee. Or at least I was.
We got presents too. Once a night, sometimes twice, the doorbell rang and a stack of presents would be on our doorstep. We never caught anyone, but we figured it was members of the church.
It wasn’t that we were poor. My father could afford to buy us the presents that we wanted. But it was still a Christmas miracle. Because it meant people remembered, that they were thinking of us, that they cared.
This year I’m super busy. I’m behind on a writing deadline, my husband is out of town, and I have five kids to shop for. The dishes in the sink never end, the library books are overdue, and it’s been so long since my dog had a haircut that she looks like the abominable snow dog. It would be easy for me to rush through this season, but I think this quote from Dieter F. Uchtdorf sums it up: In the end, the number of prayers we say may contribute to our happiness, but the number of prayers we answer may be of even greater importance.
This year, be the answer to someone’s prayers.
Merry Christmas!
I'm giving away a copy of How To Take the Ex Out of Ex-boyfriend because it's a book about giving too. Leave a comment and I'll enter you, be sure to say if you're a follower and you'll get two chances.
And if you feel lucky, literary girls are also giving away one of my books over at http://literarygirls.blogspot.com/
I have plenty of nice Christmas memories: The time a bus full of strangers all sang Christmas carols together for no other reason than it was Christmas Eve. The time my family delivered Christmas presents to a family in need. After we left the presents on the porch and doorbell ditched the house, we watched their little children come outside and search the sky for Santa Claus. I’ve forgotten most of the presents I received over the years, but I remember laying in the living room every year, lights off, just enjoying the glow of the Christmas tree.
Perhaps my most memorable Christmas is the one that happened after my mother died of cancer. I was about six. I say about, because I don’t know the date my mother died. I remember the day. It was a Saturday morning, but I can’t tell you what time of year it was. I’ve purposely not asked and not looked at any documents that would tell me. It’s not an anniversary I want to note on the calendar every year.
Some months later the holiday season rolled around, but my father said we weren’t going to have a Christmas tree that year. He just couldn’t do a big Christmas. I can imagine how overwhelmed he felt, alone with four children to raise—and in all likelihood he was angry at God for taking his wife. At least, I would be. Still, at six years old, I had perfect faith that we would have a Christmas tree. Christmas trees were part of Christmas, and Christmas was coming.
We did end up getting a tree. I remember, perfectly preserved the way some memories are, the pastor of our church showing up at our house and taking the tree inside. “I know what you said about not getting a tree this year,” he told my father. “But I had to bring one. If it’s okay, I’ll set it up.”
How could my father say no? Four children were suddenly jumping around the living room with glee. Or at least I was.
We got presents too. Once a night, sometimes twice, the doorbell rang and a stack of presents would be on our doorstep. We never caught anyone, but we figured it was members of the church.
It wasn’t that we were poor. My father could afford to buy us the presents that we wanted. But it was still a Christmas miracle. Because it meant people remembered, that they were thinking of us, that they cared.
This year I’m super busy. I’m behind on a writing deadline, my husband is out of town, and I have five kids to shop for. The dishes in the sink never end, the library books are overdue, and it’s been so long since my dog had a haircut that she looks like the abominable snow dog. It would be easy for me to rush through this season, but I think this quote from Dieter F. Uchtdorf sums it up: In the end, the number of prayers we say may contribute to our happiness, but the number of prayers we answer may be of even greater importance.
This year, be the answer to someone’s prayers.
Merry Christmas!
I'm giving away a copy of How To Take the Ex Out of Ex-boyfriend because it's a book about giving too. Leave a comment and I'll enter you, be sure to say if you're a follower and you'll get two chances.
And if you feel lucky, literary girls are also giving away one of my books over at http://literarygirls.blogspot.com/
Monday, December 14, 2009
And the winner is . . .
Today the random number generator chose LucindaF. Probably because LucindaF is so cool. (It's just like me to put words in the random generator's mouth.) So Lucinda, let me know your address at jrallisonfans at yahoo dot com and I'll send out your book.
Everyone else, don't fret, I'm going to give away a book next blog too.
Everyone else, don't fret, I'm going to give away a book next blog too.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Just One Wish give-away
Guess who just got a book trailer for Just One Wish? Yes, that's right, Andie my intrepid Rent-a-Teenager has done it again. In honor of the book trailer, I'll be giving away a copy of the book. Get it now while the background is blue--when it goes to paperback, Putnam is changing all of that blue stuff to pink. I don't know why. Perhaps the lips are now blowing dandelions at sunset. Mine is not to question the bow-tied one's decisions.
If you want a chance to win, leave a comment about something you liked in the book trailer. And let me know if you're a follower, because despite what your mother told you in junior high about being a follower, it does pay off here. You'll get double chances. Good luck!
If you want a chance to win, leave a comment about something you liked in the book trailer. And let me know if you're a follower, because despite what your mother told you in junior high about being a follower, it does pay off here. You'll get double chances. Good luck!
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Songs You Hate to Love
There are some songs that I'm embarrassed that I like. Since I only infrequently shy away from embarrassing myself on this blog, I will come right out and tell you. Yes, I like Lady Gaga’s Poker Face. I’m not going to buy it, mind you. I still have some pride and I make it a policy not to buy music from people who consider themselves royalty. (No Prince songs. No Queen Latifah.) Plus I can’t buy songs that have painfully stupid music videos. One day, I swear, I’m going to start my own blog just mocking bad music videos. It will be called, The Lighting Guys Might Have Told You that You Looked Great, But They laughed Themselves Silly While You Were In Wardrobe Changing Out Of Your Spandex Mini Skirt And The Shirt That Looked Like It Was Made of Mouse Pads And Held Together With Packaging Tape.
Poker Face fails both the royalty and bad music video tests, so I just have to listen to the song on youtube with the window minimized and hope that my love of the song will run its course like that unfortunate infatuation I had with Britney Spear’s Womanizer. (Although come to think about it, I still shout out: You say I’m crazy? I got your crazy! every once in awhile.)
But even though I minimize, I’ve still gotten bits and pieces of the Poker Face video. And here is my question. Who brought Lady Gaga a swimsuit with shoulder pads and gloves and said, “This will look great!” Because that person should have to wear Bjork’s swan dress for a solid week just for penance.
Anyway, as I was watching the swimsuit, and going: Wow, it looks like part of someone’s tick-tac-toe game came to life, I thought to myself, “Haven’t I seen that outfit before?” I was pretty sure Lady Gaga was just recycling through old Star Trek costumes. So I googled Star Trek Women. (And yes, this is the sort of thing I do when I really should be working on my novel.) I found this:
Actually, it looks better than Lady Gaga’s swimsuit.
While I googled, I also found these Star Trek inspirational photos and laughed so hard I had to post them. Those of you in my generation will understand.
(http://echosphere.net/star_trek_insp/star_trek_insp.html)
Poker Face fails both the royalty and bad music video tests, so I just have to listen to the song on youtube with the window minimized and hope that my love of the song will run its course like that unfortunate infatuation I had with Britney Spear’s Womanizer. (Although come to think about it, I still shout out: You say I’m crazy? I got your crazy! every once in awhile.)
But even though I minimize, I’ve still gotten bits and pieces of the Poker Face video. And here is my question. Who brought Lady Gaga a swimsuit with shoulder pads and gloves and said, “This will look great!” Because that person should have to wear Bjork’s swan dress for a solid week just for penance.
Anyway, as I was watching the swimsuit, and going: Wow, it looks like part of someone’s tick-tac-toe game came to life, I thought to myself, “Haven’t I seen that outfit before?” I was pretty sure Lady Gaga was just recycling through old Star Trek costumes. So I googled Star Trek Women. (And yes, this is the sort of thing I do when I really should be working on my novel.) I found this:
Actually, it looks better than Lady Gaga’s swimsuit.
While I googled, I also found these Star Trek inspirational photos and laughed so hard I had to post them. Those of you in my generation will understand.
(http://echosphere.net/star_trek_insp/star_trek_insp.html)
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Julie Wright, a dangerous woman
One of the funnest parts of being a writer is getting to hang out with other authors, so I was especially looking forward to having my good friends Julie Wright and Josi Kilpack come down to Arizona to do book signings. Having them stay at my house—total slumber party.
There was only one little problem. Before they came I managed to give myself a head wound and a black eye. I won’t go into the details of how this happened as it is a long boring story except for the part that makes me look really foolish, but the moral of the story is: No, I don’t have night vision.
Really, it is easier to give yourself a black eye than you’d think.
So I warned Julie and Josi that I looked like a homeless person (It’s hard to wash your hair when you’ve smeared antibiotic ointment on your hairline) and planned on skipping out on their signings. But they were also speaking to a book club and invited me to come—in fact, they invited me to speak at it with them. How could I turn it down?
I hoped people would think I was going for the slightly greasy hair look, then caked on the foundation. It did a pretty good job hiding the bruise.
Josi spoke, I spoke, and then Julie spoke. But Julie gave one of those really moving talks about the books that turned her life around when she was young. It wasn’t long before I was crying. Which wouldn’t have been a bad thing at all except that I knew crying would wash away my foundation and suddenly reveal to everybody there that I was hiding a black eye.
How do you explain that to a roomful of strangers? “Oh, and by the way folks, in case you were wondering--my husband doesn’t really doesn’t beat me!”
This is why you shouldn’t go listen to Julie Wright if you need to keep your makeup in place.
There was only one little problem. Before they came I managed to give myself a head wound and a black eye. I won’t go into the details of how this happened as it is a long boring story except for the part that makes me look really foolish, but the moral of the story is: No, I don’t have night vision.
Really, it is easier to give yourself a black eye than you’d think.
So I warned Julie and Josi that I looked like a homeless person (It’s hard to wash your hair when you’ve smeared antibiotic ointment on your hairline) and planned on skipping out on their signings. But they were also speaking to a book club and invited me to come—in fact, they invited me to speak at it with them. How could I turn it down?
I hoped people would think I was going for the slightly greasy hair look, then caked on the foundation. It did a pretty good job hiding the bruise.
Josi spoke, I spoke, and then Julie spoke. But Julie gave one of those really moving talks about the books that turned her life around when she was young. It wasn’t long before I was crying. Which wouldn’t have been a bad thing at all except that I knew crying would wash away my foundation and suddenly reveal to everybody there that I was hiding a black eye.
How do you explain that to a roomful of strangers? “Oh, and by the way folks, in case you were wondering--my husband doesn’t really doesn’t beat me!”
This is why you shouldn’t go listen to Julie Wright if you need to keep your makeup in place.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Faerie Festival, in which I almost get wings
I promised I'd post pictures of myself from the Faerie Festival. Here is the outfit my amazing friend, Kristy, sewed for me. She is sort of like Martha Stewart but more impressive because she has seven children. One Halloween she sewed herself a Snow White costume and then sewed matching dwarfs outfits for all of her kids. I'd like to see Martha haul seven kids around the neighborhood without losing any. But I digress.
This is why the festival was so fun--cool authors to hang out with! This was one of the few author events I've been to where I was actually friends with all of the authors (and the booksellers) before I got there, so it felt like a party. Here I am with Aprilynne Pike, Janni Simner, James Owens, and Brandi from Changing Hands Bookstore.
And here I am doing a reading from My Fair Godmother. You can tell I'm an autumn fairy because I'm wearing brown and all the grass around me is mysteriously dead. This is why autumn fairies don't get invited to many social events.
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