Kerry Blair's Blog

To celebrate the New Year, I am going to buy a portrait-quality picture of Annie, place it in a gilt frame, and hang it above my bed.

I will do that first thing tomorrow.

Like the Little Orphan Optimist, I love tomorrow! It is the one thing most likely to get me through today.

I got up this morning with a notebook full of resolutions. Thus far, I have worked toward . . . let me count . . . none of them. I am going on a diet, of course, but since I didn't get the chocolate croissants baked before New Years there was nothing to do but bake them this morning. (And if you think I will ever have the resolve to walk away from a chocolate croissant, we've never met.) Thus, I will start the diet tomorrow. Likewise the exercise routine and the new organizational system and the 2013 budget and . . . Tomorrow is going to be very busy.

I have spent most of my life vowing to do better tomorrow. The fatal flaw in this is, of course, the annoying frequency with which "tomorrow" becomes "today." As in years past, unless there’s a Joshua around somewhere to keep the sun from setting Wednesday evening, I have no more hope of completing my new To Do list then than I do today. 

Fortunately, six days of every week come with a shiny-new tomorrow of their own! The seventh day, Saturday, is even better. While it lacks a viable "tomorrow" in which to cram menial chores, day following it is a day of rest, thus it comes with something even better – a Monday! That is two days away, making it a veritable utopia for procrastinators like me. Until, of course, it dawns.

So, do you wonder how I ever keep a New Year’s resolution and/or keep from sinking into despair? Easy! Anyone can do it! First, obtain a pair of Genuine Little Orphan Annie Rose-Colored Glasses. (Quick! Send 72 proofs of purchase from 1940s-era Ovaltine to an address that no longer exists and wait patiently. Very patiently.) If that doesn't work, hold out until mid-January or so -- just when you’ve finally realized that you haven’t yet worked on a single New Year’s resolution -- and you will be delighted to recall that Chinese New Year is just around the corner. Another new beginning!

Wait, there’s more to my madness!

Come the middle of March, when I haven’t met a goal from Chinese New Year, I rejoice. The calendar shows that my birthday is right around the corner. Now there’s the day to begin a new year of life! When I fail at that, Easter is still a week or three away, giving me an even better reason to resurrect a glorious new me from the gloom of the last three months. If an overdose of chocolate bunny ears causes me to slack off just a bit toward the end of April, no worries! Summer begins soon – what better time to sweep out the moldy old me and embrace a bright new persona? Of course, summer is usually pretty hectic, but kids go back to school in late August. Good deal! Every September without fail I buy a new planner and use it faithfully (for a week or so) to help chart my new course of resolution.

Admittedly, I take October through December off for the holidays. (The holidays begin on Columbus Day and extend through Halloween and beyond.) But even in those joyous times of frivolity, merry-making, and overindulgence, I look piously ahead to a fresh start in the New Year.

See?

In the interest of truth in blogging, I must allow that there is a downside. I have yet to lose weight, de-clutter my surroundings, or write the Great American Novel. (Or even the Mediocre American Novel.) Am I worried? Not at all. Not only is today only the first day of 2013, but it is the first day of the rest of my life! What am I doing sitting here at the computer? I have resolutions to keep, an eight-foot-long To Do list to check off, a glorious new me to sculpt from the ruins of the old model! (Please pray that I have enough raw material left for something useful if not decorative.) Today, right this minute in fact, I will begin the trek up that metaphorical mountain to vistas of unimaginable splendor!

And if I become beffuddled in the foothills and wander off course yet again? Well, there’s always tomorrow.

(Help!) 

Robert Louis Stevenson wrote:

"Keep us, Lord, from losing the awe of that Holy Night when Christ was born. May our carols of praise never become tiresome and old. May the thrilling sounds of Christmas ever remind us of how much we owe to our Heavenly Father for his great gift of love on our behalf.

Oh God our Loving Father, help us rightly to remember the birth of Jesus...that we may share in the song of the angels, the gladness of the shepherds, and the worship of the wisemen. Close the door of hate and open the door of love all over the world. Deliver us from evil by the blessing that Christ brings, and teach us to be merry with clear hearts. May Christmas morning make us happy to be thy children and Christmas evening bring us to our beds with grateful thoughts, forgiving and forgiven for Jesus's sake. Amen."

The most fun I ever had online was when I participated on Six LDS Writers and a Frog, a blog founded by Sariah Wilson and written by Jeffrey (J. Scott) Savage, Robison Wells, Stephanie Black, Julie Bellon & me. (These folks remain my favorite authors -- and people -- of all time.) This week Julie put together a reunion. Today was my turn. 

You can find the reunion on Julie's blog HERE.
The Frog Blog's archives are still HERE.

And here is my contribution:


Just for the record, I voted to hold this reunion next week. My thought was that it would make a nicer gift coming that much closer to Christmas, and . . . okay! Hold your comments! I’ll come clean. My actual reasoning was that if we “reunited” next week my day would fall on Friday, December 21 and, with any luck at all, the ancient Mayans would be right, the world would end, and nobody would ever know I missed yet another Friday! (Worst case scenario: the world wouldn’t end, but none of you could expect me to hear that news from my bunker deep beneath Mingus Mountain.) But, nooooo. Everybody else wanted to blog this week, so here we are pre-apocalypse.  I’m sorry.
 I sat down to write this yesterday. I had just teared up over Julie’s blog, so I started out echoing what everybody else said about how much we love, appreciate, and miss you guys. Well, you know me: six thousand words later I was sobbing outright and my elderly pit bull, picking up on the maudlin vibes, was pressed against my leg, howling harmony.
For the sake of us all, I walked away from the computer then to try again this morning. You’re welcome.
So, first I asked myself: Back in the days of Froggy yore, when I wasn’t being sloppily sentimental and/or preaching to the choir, what did I do? Honestly? Mostly I ditched. Every once in a while I ran a cheesy contest, but when I wasn’t doing any of those things, I liked to hang out with the Frog. This prompted me to wonder: Where is that little terd . . . er . . . toad, anyway? Shouldn’t he be here, too?
Alas, what came of all that is all this:   
‘Twas twelve days before Christmas when all thro’ the bogSix Writers were blogging—but where was the Frog?
The notes were all posted, lest anyone care;
All hoped that our Frog friend soon would be there.

The readers were nestled all snug at their screensWhile visions of frog legs danc’d thro’ their beans.
And Janice with her candy canes, and Jon and his dogs
Had just settled their brains to write their own blogs.

Then out in the weeds there arose such a clatterI fell from my chair, wond’ring what was the matter.
Away to the pond edge I staggered, not fast,
Tripped into the cattails and fell with a splash.

The moon as reflected in newly-stirred muckLacked luster, thus seeing required some luck,
When what should appear to my dim, blurry eyes
But a miniature sleigh pulled by six dragonflies.

With a sprightly green driver so quick with the goadI knew in an instant it must be our Toad!
More rapid than Rob-whines his coursers they came,
And he croaked as he called out to each one, by name:

“On, Julie! Go, Kerry! You, Robinson! Now, Steph!“On, Sariah! On, J. Scott—or, wait—are you Jeff?
“To the edge of the bog! To the top of the weed!
“Now, dash it all ‘flies! Slow it down! I must read.” 

(And then there was this whirlwind of leaves and . . . Some other stuff happening with eagles or buzzards
Or something . . . and the next thing I knew . . .)
As I drew back my head lest my staring eyes pop
To the bog Saint Amphibian came with a plop.

He was clad all in green from his head to his feet
But he wore a fake beard that was white as a sheet. 
I rubbed at my eyes, hoping it was the fog
That had me believing I saw Santa Frog.

His eyes—how they twinkled! His wide lips—how scary!His feet were like rubber; his toes were webbed, very.
His looooooong, sticky tongue he shot out like a whip
And the moth it encircled was gone with a “Ziiiiiiip!”

The stump of a pen he held tight in his mitt, It was full of red ink. Had the Frog come to ed-itt?  
He had a broad face, and great round white eyes
That could turn in his head and indeed hypnotize.

He was chubby and plump and looked like an elfBut I didn’t laugh. (I’m too elf-like myself.)
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I’ve delusions to dread.    

He spoke not a word. (But, hey, no surprise there!)And read all the six blogs—which wasrather rare—
Then, laying a finger aside of his nose . . .
(I looked away at this point so I wouldn’t even be

Tempted to rhyme whatever he might do next.)He hopped to his sleigh, to his team gave a shout!
I stood there still wond’ring, “What’s that all about?”
But I heard him exclaim ‘ere he sped out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all! Hope your New Year is bright!”
I hope that, too. And I really do miss you all!  Merry everything!

Want to see the height of adorableness? (Okay, maybe not an actual word, but you can clearly see what I mean!)

Hil sent me a picture. I forwarded it with $10 to Vanessa Porritt at Vanessa Porritt Photography, picked the snow globe that reminded me most of my daughter, and voila! Christmas adorableness! 

You can see all the designs on her website HERE. Okay, so my link didn't work. (Sigh.) Check her out on Facebook! That's where I first saw the globes.

Thanks, Vanessa! I love it! Also you.

I was nine or ten when I got my first chain letter, but I remember it well. It started out with a story about a girl who'd received a version of the very letter I held in my hand, copied it carefully, passed it on to five friends, and then found a $20 bill that she got to spend on candy! However, the letter continued, her best friend broke the chain and was cut in half before her little sister’s eyes when she rode her bicycle directly into a buzz saw. (Okay, so maybe I don’t remember the story exactly, but that was the gist of it.) I copied the letter! I didn’t find $20, but I wasn’t cut in half either, so I figured it ended well enough, all things considered.

Twenty years later, the chain letter going around in my group was for a "recipe club." If you copied the letter, added a recipe, and sent it to five people, you would receive 2345728345 delicious cooking ideas in return. If you didn’t, well, all your bundts would burndt—or something like that. (I am again hazy on details.) Since I didn’t really cook, didn’t have a favorite recipe, and didn't particularly want anybody else’s, I broke the chain. That curse surely caught up with me; I haven’t made a successful bundt cake since. (Nor, come to think of it, have I tried.)
This year I received an invitation to a blog version of the chain letters of yore. Like its predecessors, it came with a promise—more readership—but no curse. (Unless it’s in fine print; I never read the fine print.) The friend who passed it to me is Debra Erfert, and since I know her, really like her, and am totally looking forward to her new books, I was pleased to link up. The day she gave me to post is December 12, so here I am! I’ll carefully copy the letter first, then fulfill my part of it, then ‘fess up as to how/why I’m probably cursed anyway.
Here’s the letter:
Before Twilight, Stephenie Meyers was just another unknown writer. (Me: So unknown they spelled her name wrong in the version Deb was sent. I fixed it here.) And before Hunger Games, I had never heard of Suzanne Collins. It stands to reason that there are thousands of fantastic stories out there waiting to be discovered, some published and some still being written. (Me, again: So true!)  
This blog hop is like a big game of tag, and I was tagged by Debra Erfert. I jumped at the chance to give my little blog more readership and to give Deb’s Firestarters a shout out. You can read more about Debra Erfert and her book HERE . (Me: Her site is also a great place to join the blog hop, already in progress. Check out the other authors. I was impressed by several of them!)

This blog hop includes ten questions to help you learn more about an author’s current work in progress, so here’s a little info about my current project:
What is the title of your book? My “book” is more like a leaflet since it’s a short short story, but it’s called For God So Loved the One.

Where did the idea come from for the book? It’s a true account of a life-changing experience I had as a new Relief Society president. (A real Christmas miracle!) It’s also story I’ve long wanted to share, so I’m grateful Covenant gave me the chance this year.

What genre does your book fall under? Creative nonfiction and inspiration. Creative because I changed peoples’ names and made up dates that I couldn’t clearly remember. Inspiration because the only part that matters – my conversion and that of a woman who became a dear friend – are absolutely true.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?  Since I was young at the time it happened I’d cast . . . um . . . Amanda Seyfried. There is no resemblance whatsoever between us then or now, but she’s adorable.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? The title: God truly does love the one – every one.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? It was published by the best LDS publishers on the planet: Covenant Communications, Inc.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? About an hour--and it was the only draft of my manuscript. But I’m sure my wonderful editor (shout out to Samantha!) spend muchmore time fixing it!

What other books/authors would you compare this story to within your genre? It’s not dissimilar from a book I published last Christmas: Angels Bending Near the Earth. (I’m anxiously awaiting a miracle this Christmas. If it doesn’t happen, next year I’ve got nothing!)

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? I love that I tend to sell them in sets of 5 – 25 because so many people read it then want to give copies as gifts. I also love that Covenant made them so they they fit into standard social envelopes and are inexpensive to mail. This makes them more economical than any Hallmark card on the market – and you can give friends and family a whole story in a Christmas card!

Here is a list of authors who will be joining the hop for week 26. I hope you’ll visit their blogs next week and learn more about their books. Maybe one of them will become your new favorite author!  This brings us to the part where I’m supposed to tag five more writers. Unfortunately, the writers I know would all fit in my living room, and most of them have already been tagged by somebody else. Add to my predicament that it's only a handful of days until Christmas and my list grows shorter than . . . um . . . insert metaphor here. I’m still waiting to hear back from a couple of people, so maybe I won’t break the chain . . .
. . . but what if I do? Will my computer crash and burn? Will my little Christmas books sit on a dusty shelf in a dark, dank warehouse somewhere, alone and rejected until the end of time? I guess I’ll just have to hope for the best – and steer clear of buzz saws!
In the meantime, go check out the authors on Deb’s site! I’ve read – and loved – their blogs, and their books!
 

Shared by a friend from India: "Americans are curious. You set aside a national holiday in which to be thankful for everything you have, but then spend at least part of it rushing around, looking to buy more."

Is anybody besides me old enough to remember when Thanksgiving was like the Sabbath? God was praised. Family was central. Food was wonderful, and something for which to be grateful -- and to share. (If we didn't have at least 15 people gathered around our ping pong table it was an off year.) Downtown Prescott was ghostly. The grocery stores were all closed. The two-theatre movie house was silent. (Yes, this was before silent movies!) Nobody thought anything of it because shopping never entered our minds.

I'm not sure the leaders we so often deride are the real problem here in the United States of Advertising. 

Today is November 15. With Thanksgiving still a week away, I have not yet purchased a turkey, let alone defrosted, roasted, or eaten one. I have not made up every bed, fold out couch, air mattress, and camping cot on the property in anticipation of family coming over the river and through the woods. I have not yet sung We Gather Together in sacrament meeting. (It is one of my all-time favorite hymns; the ward music chairman picks it once a year, if I'm lucky.) I am wearing an orange shirt, living in a house bedecked with pumpkins and pilgrims and handcrafted folkart that reminds me to be grateful. And yet, I hold in my hand a Christmas card.

A. Christmas. Card. And, no, it is not from Walmart or Target or any of the other retailers who were peddling Christmas trees a couple of weeks before I thought to get out the scarecrows. It is from a woman I have known and loved for years and always considered sane. Until now. I noted (through tears) that she wrote the poem on it herself, and I have no doubt it will touch my heart in, say, ten days or so. This afternoon it was all I could do not to toss it in the grinder with the fresh cranberries.

I feel very much like the turkey in this popular cartoon. I love Christmas. I really do. I've published stories of my own Christmas miracles two years in a row now. Perhaps, after Thanksgiving, I'll tell you all about them.

So . . . um . . . how awkward is this? What does one say after a mere 734 days of stone silence?

I actually found the old place again earlier this morning. It's taken me this long to hack my way through the overgrown briars to the dashboard. When I finally reached the control panel I found everything covered in cobwebs and had to wait for reinforcements to arrive with Raid. (True only in a metaphorical sense. In real life I almost never kill a spider. What would Charlotte think?)

Today is a sad day in the Bloggernacle, and particularly for me. It is the next-to-the-last day of Six LDS Writers and a Frog. I just hit "Post" on my final Friday Frog Blog. There is a whole lot of irony in how bereft I feel. For almost five years I worried about those things. I agonized over what to say--and what not to say. I never passed a Friday without feeling terribly inadequate in comparison with the stunning writers who went before: Sariah Wilson, Jeffrey (J. Scott) Savage, Robison (Rob) Wells, Stephanie Black--she of the THREE WHITNEYS IN A ROW--and ever faithful, ever amazing Julie Bellon. I often regretted the posts I put up and felt shamed over the many, many weeks I let other things get in the way of writing anything at all.

So. Today. You'd think I'd feel nothing but relief, but what I feel is sad. I assure myself it is lunacy to cry over the passing of a blog when there is so much real tragedy over which to despair. Alas, myself reminds me that the deepest hurts are always personal in nature, always painful, and always relieved--at least a little--when shared.

So, I invited a few people over and buzzed in to straighten up a few things in case anybody shows up. I recognize that after so much neglect, I am likely to be alone here for some time (forever?) and that's okay. (The echo is rather comforting in itself.)

If anybody does happen in, I do have caution tape stretched out over there in the corner. I know it is trendy for bloggers to ask people to follow them, but that's so not me! Sometimes I plod. Sometimes I rival the speed of light. Mostly I stumble through life. But irregardless of the rate of progress I fear that I mostly move in circles. You'd have to be crazy to follow somebody like that!

But do check out the links and feel free to follow some of those people! You'll like where they're headed, I promise.

Moroni had a mother. Mormon had a mother. Despite the stripling warriors getting all the credit for a superior education, Helaman too had a mother.

I’ve thought a lot about these women over the past several years. I’ve tried to imagine how Moroni’s mother felt when he whipped out that Title of Liberty, prepared to take on Amalickiah—and all the hosts of hell, if need be. There was a time I would have guessed that her heart filled with righteous pride, but now I know better. Most likely, she smiled when Moroni came home on leave, but the minute he returned to the front lines she cried, Why you? There are men everywhere! Why don’t they go? Why can’t you till the earth, tend the flocks, preach the gospel . . . weave baskets . . . do anything but risk your heart and soul in battle?

I think it’s even harder to send a son off to war in this dispensation. After all, the Nephites knew their sons were fighting for their lives. As Americans and Latter-day Saints, we support our government and cherish our freedom, but we prefer to do it from a safe distance. “Good” little Mormon boys are not groomed for the military. Primary and Mutual are designed to prepare our kids for marriage, college, and missions—not boot camp. Think about it. Who hopes to be called on the kind of mission where they’ll carry a gun with their Book of Mormon? It is not surprising then that when a bright, active LDS kid from a good family turns nineteen and enters not the MTC but the USMC, nobody knows what to say. Nobody knows what to think. This, of course, includes the guy’s mother.

Even living in one of the most supportive wards in the Church doesn’t help as much as you’d think it would. While not a single week passes without a public prayer offered for the men and women in the military, it is done at the request of the bishop—who means it—and uttered by rote by people who mostly do not. My husband and I are often asked for an account of our sons’ well-being, but the people who ask often do so in low voices, as if it shames us to have sons in the service “instead” of serving the Lord. (The Lord Himself does not consider the two mutually exclusive.) Indisputably, a young person’s willingness to live or die for his country is not as admirable in our culture as it is curious. Unfortunately, the way some people react to it is even curious-er. Another of my favorite examples: since his enlistment, my youngest son has received a monthly ward letter that is always addressed Dear Elders (and Matt). That Matt is also an elder never occurred to its author; perhaps because his name badge was of the desert-camouflage variety.

This is not meant as criticism. I don’t know what to make of those boys of mine, either. The only thing that surprised me more than my youngest son’s determination to become a Marine was my eldest son’s enlistment in the Army after a two-year mission for the Church. I swear we used the same Family Home Evening manual and attended the same meetings as the rest of you. Curious and curious-er, say Alice and I. Sure, I’ve always believed that a well-trained, well-equipped, all-volunteer military must be maintained to ensure the rest of us continuing our lives, liberties, and pursuits of happiness, but I also assumed somebody else’s kids would take the job.

Even though it didn’t work out that way, I am here to report that it is all behind us now—as of this very morning, in fact. After half a decade of viewing life through an olive-drab looking-glass, we have returned to the somewhat less-surreal world of civilians. My youngest returned from Okinawa a few weeks ago, and my eldest left White Sands last night. They will both be home for Mother’s Day. They are alive. Healthy. Whole. As holy as they ever were—which is pretty darn good, if I do say so myself.

I can’t contain the gratitude that fills my heart, but I know that when I have my children all together for the first time in years, not every tear I shed will be for joy. I will never be able to forget other women who are not so blessed. As I celebrate Mothers Day, other mothers all over the country (world) will wait by the phone for their children to report in from life-missions foreign, domestic, religious, and military. Some military moms will not hear a loved one’s voice because their sons are too deep within Iraq, Afghanistan, or South America to reach a phone. These women are blessed, and they know it. (The phrase “no news is good news” was coined in time of war.) They recognize their good fortune because every one of them knows of a mother who will spend her special day at the bedside of a hurt or maimed child. Even these latter count themselves fortunate because what mother in our country does not know of another whose beloved never came home at all?

God bless us, every one.

Moroni was a man who did not delight in bloodshed but whose soul did joy in the freedom of his country. He pledged his life to the welfare of his people because his heart swelled with thanksgiving to God for the privileges and blessings bestowed upon them. No doubt his mother’s heart was also swollen with many emotions; surely she carried equal parts fear and longing side-by-side with hope and faith. Moroni was not young when he left the service, but I like to imagine that his mother reached an exceedingly old age. (If I were even half as talented as David or Heather, I would write a book to make it so, if only in fiction.) I truly hope she lived long enough to see her beloved son retire to his own house to spend the remainder of his days in peace.

My sons’ service was not as remarkable as Moroni’s, but the remainder of their days are hopefully much, much longer. (I expect more prayerful preparation, leadership, and service from them both.) In the meantime, they have dedicated a portion of their youth to serving their country while remaining true to their God. I appreciate and admire them for that. How well I remember the Family Home Evening we hung a brass “Return with Honor” sign on our front door and discussed its meaning. My sons did not go where I thought they would go, or do what I thought they would do, but I know beyond doubt they served well, magnified their priesthood, and righteously impacted countless lives. I know I am blessed beyond measure to see them return safely home . . . and with honor.

Not even Moroni’s mother would ask for anything more.

Janette Rallison is a very busy lady. She is also the most dedicated, giving, and all-around nice person you'll ever meet. I had only to sound just a little desperate (and more than a little pathetic) and she dropped everything to answer your questions. ALL of them. I hope you appreciate this even half as much as I do!

This then is the blog you hoped it would be!

What was Janette's path to publication in the national market?
I wrote a book that would work in the national market, sent it to an agent that some SCBWI folks suggested, and after about a year of waiting and anguish while it was shopped around, I had Tim Travaglini at Walker Books (He's now at Putnam) convinced that I could write well. Tim is brilliant.

If this book is turned into a movie, will Janette make sure it stays true to the book or will she let them tweak it?
My Fair Godmother was over 300 pages and the average movie script is a 100 pages, so it goes without saying that most books are tweaked for the movies. I hate to think of 200 pages being chopped/condensed and rewritten, but that's just the way it is.

Seriously, now, I read you biography on your website, and know that you've written several other books, mostly young adult novels. Have you any plans to write a novel aimed at us more ... mature persons?
You're in luck, mature persons reading this, I did write some LDS romances and a Sci-fi novel under the name Sierra St. James. And they're great books too.

If casting were completely up to you, who would be in the movie? Did you have a mental image of any of these people in mind as you created your characters?
I love the guys from Prince Caspian so I would probably cast Ben Barnes as Hunter and William Moseley as Tristan. Savannah and Jane would be a little harder because you would have to find actresses that looked like sisters.

Here is my question. When do you find time to write with 5 kids? I have 3 and it's tough to get in the mood to write when there is so much to do.
At first I wrote during nap time, then at favorite show time, then at preschool time. I even wrote long hand while nursing. I paid older kids to play with the younger kids so I could write. You don't get much written when you have little kids but if you can manage a page or two a day then you can have a book written in less than a year.

I'd be interested in knowing if she plans on writing anymore fantasy books and if she would ever do more writing about any other fairy tales or myths (like Greek and Roman Hera & Aphrodite, etc myths).Yes, I want to do more fantasy. And although I hadn't really planned on doing a sequel to My Fair Godmother, I left it open so I could, and it looks like the book is doing well enough that I might--so I'll need to come up with some more fairy tales to send people to.

Now, for the question: In Kerry's quote, Janette's discussion of the power of the wish shows an interesting perception of the strength and courage necessary to change. Do you feel any of that ambivalence as you head towards a movie after breaking into the national market?
No, actually I only feel like squealing like a teenage girl. The producer called me today and I was barely capable of coherent speech. I told him I was a big fan of Sky High so he is sending me an official Sky High backpack. How cool is that? I mean, even if the book never makes it to the theaters, I'll have a Sky High backpack. What was the question again? (You see how I go all incoherent while talking about the possibility of a movie.)

That said, Chrissy really is right about wishes. Sometimes they do swallow you whole. How many of us who sit down at our computers with the intent to write a book and then get it published and market it, feel like that wish has swallowed us whole?

If you can you tell how lovingly jealous we(well, me)are, will you tell us what wish you made that changed you/your writing so you could do all this?When I started out in my writing group all my friends were wishing that their books would get published. I decided not to wish for that because I thought: what if it happened but my book wasn't really any good? That would be worse. Everyone would know I was a horrible writer and wonder how I got published, and people would trash my book, and it would end up on sale for .99 in the bargain bin. (That happens, by the way, even to good books.)

So I decided to wish that I would become a good writer and I read writing books, took classes on writing, and went to conferences. That is always my advice to budding writers: Don't worry about getting published so much. Worry about learning the craft of writing, then publishing becomes easier.

Where did you learn so much about wishes?
High school where I spent a lot of time wishing I would get noticed by certain young men and other things that didn’t happen.

If Ms. Rallison could have three wishes of her own, what would they be?A self cleaning house would be right up there on the list. So would world peace, but I might put the self cleaning house before world peace (which shows you what kind of person I am.) I'd probably also wish to rule the world or something like that which would end up not making me happy at all. But think of the changes you could make if you ruled the world. I could, for example, dictate that spelling had to make sense from here on out. Goodbye silent p in pnemonia and in alphabet and all sorts of other places Ps don't belong like psychiatry.

Does Ms. Rallison give her story characters any of her own personal traits?
Always. Which is why they usually have a weakness for chocolate and are lousy drivers. They also tend to embarrass themselves.

My question: Does your bishop ask you to speak in sacrament more often after you were published and are you in your ward or stake YW presidency? Just kidding about the second part. None of my business.
Nope, perhaps they're worried what I'm going to say. (Although I do get asked to write camp skits and road shows. It turns out that's not an entirely bad thing. I got the idea for My Fair Godmother from a road show I wrote. Go fractured fairy tale theme! The original was called Beauty and the Priest. And right now I'm in Primary. I love it!

What use of metaphor in your recent release did you enjoy writing the most? And which use of metaphor do you think was used to the most dramatic impact?
In the fairy's report at the beginning of the novel I talk about predatory guys being sharks. It was fun to play a little bit with that image since I don't usually use a lot of literary symbolism in my books. My publisher wanted me to take out the whole report and I had to sort of fight them over it. I liked the report, and besides I was afraid that if the reader didn't get to see the situation from Jane's side first, everyone would hate Jane and Hunter and would be waiting for Savannah to take revenge. I didn't want the book to be about revenge.

How long did it take you to write this book? I remember from reading her blog a while ago that she was trying to write a book in two months, and I'm curious if this is the one.
Nope, that wasn't this one. This one probably took around six months.

In the past year, what is one of your favorite book signing experiences?
I did one in my old neighborhood and got to see all of my old friends. It was sort of like a funeral, only I didn't have to die for it.

Okay, my question: Having read quite a few of your books (and owning even more) where do come up with your ideas? And please keep them coming???!!!I get ideas from my teenagers and from my own mind that likes to wander far too much when I should be paying attention to things like driving the car.

I have a question! Is she going to write a sequel to her sci-fi novel Time Riders now that it is getting published by Desert Book soon? :)
I hope so. Echo is one of my all time favorite characters.

My question is: Does Janette plan on continuing in the YA market or will she consider writing adult fiction?Both! And I wish I had more time!

After many and deep thinking things in my brain, the only question that I came up with is, do you find writing a little everyday helps you be more creative?
Yes, and another side effect is that my house is a mess. Oh well.

Will you play a cameo part in the movie, like Stephenie Meyer did? If so, what would you like to play?
That would be so cool. If and when they start filming it, I'll have to beg the producer and see if they'll let me walk across the background or something.

What time of day are you more productive - morning? evening?
Anytime my family isn't around is what works best for me.

Do you write longhand, or are you computer oriented?
Mostly I write on the computer but if I'm out watching a soccer game or something I take a notebook and write long hand.

Can you write with life going on around you - or do you need quiet?

I need it quiet, definitely.

To read more about this very talented writer, visit her website and her blogsite !

Thanks, Janette!