Where Are Your Thoughts?

Where is the best place for you to brainstorm?

I’ll tell you, some of my best ‘thinking’ time is when I’m doing a mindless chore, like working in the garden, or scrubbing the floors on my hands and knees. Sometimes even taking a shower. I came up with a good portion of By Love or By Sea while taking a shower. (I know you really wanted to know that!) You’d be amazing at how the mind can whirl while you’re working. It is the perfect time to allow your thoughts to brew!

Brainstorming is an important part of writing. If you are writing a novel, you should be brainstorming throughout the entire process. From before you write the very first word of your outline, to the very last edit.

Why?

Tell me this. If you are not a part of the world you are trying to create, how can you expect your reader to be a part of it?

So how is this accomplished?

I have a notebook for every book. I have folders on my computer for every book (that are, of course, backed up). It is a good idea to write a few things, even just ideas, every day. Don’t worry if you end up cutting them later on. Get the juices flowing! Get the story growing!

Where do you start?

Don’t feel like you have to start at the beginning. If you have an idea, write it down. You can figure out how it fits in with everything else later. Much later, sometimes. Start at the beginning, start with a character, start with a situation, it doesn’t matter. Just get your thoughts on the page.

I read a thing by Maria V. Snyder about writing her first book, Poison Study. She started with a question. “Who would choose to become a food taster?” Here is her thought process.

“Who would choose to become a food taster? My answer was “No one.” So someone would be forced to take the position – who? Not someone loyal to the king/Commander – he wouldn’t want to risk a good man – even though a loyal man might consider the job an honor. There is a good chance the food taster will die – so who would the king/Commander use and not feel bad if the person dies? Someone on death row. She will be executed anyway – her life is forfeit, waiting in the dungeon for execution. But how to keep that person from escaping? Butterfly’s Dust – a poison that stays in the body and if the food taster doesn’t show up for a daily antidote she will die. Great, but why is she in the dungeon? Execution is an extreme punishment – so she had to do something extreme like murder. Why and who does she kill? See how the story is taking shape? And the questions don’t stop until the story is done.”

When I first started, The Tiger, Unleashed, I wanted to write about a girl who played the piano and admired, through the window, a boy who work in her father’s vineyard. Did it end up that way? No. But some of the elements are still there. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll use the parts that died.

One thing I will tell you, I found inspiration for the first scene of The Tiger, Unleashed and the premise for Sweet Ivy while leading the music in church. The stories had been swirling in my head for a long time, and then one day, each of them came to life as I was leading the music.

So if you allow yourself to become a part of the world you create, your stories will come alive for your readers!

Love and Forgivness

The month of February. During this month we think of love and happiness. Today as I stood in front of my mirror, I was thinking of these things and thought, if there was no forgiveness, there would be little love and happiness. For it is through forgiveness that we find pure love and happiness.
Now, I don’t want to get preachy on you, because if you want to be preached to, there are other places you can go. But I did want to share with you an experience I had with forgiveness.
Almost twelve years ago, I had a close friend who betrayed me. I don’t want to go into specifics. Most people would think it was really no big deal, and maybe it wouldn’t be to them. But to me, she may as well have filleted my soul. Shortly after my experience with this friend, I left home and figured I’d probably never see her again.
I was wrong, as I generally am in situations like this. There were two instances that I was thrown into mingling with this friend. She was polite, but not friendly. (This was my impression, remember. It is entirely possible that she felt as uncomfortable as I did. But then again, she may never have even realized how badly she hurt me.)
Nearly five years after my painful encounter with her, I saw her again at a party with some friends. She had just move into the area, and I knew I’d be seeing her regularly. I tried to engage her in conversation, but it felt forced and strained. I remember driving home with my husband and wishing I could be close friends with her again. I tried to think of something I could invite her to do with me so we could get reacquainted, but there was this painful nagging in my heart that she would turn on me like she’d done before.
Over the course of the next couple weeks, I thought the situation out at great length while weeding my garden. I finally decided to write a story with a girl who had been betrayed by her best friend and then reconciled with her. (Believe it or not, this is one of the origins for A Season for Love, although I’m not sure that part stayed in the story.) I found that writing it was very therapeutic and gave me time to examine my feelings and give me some closure.
About a month later, I needed to find someone to help me with a project. I was asked who I wanted, and I knew I wanted this old friend of mine to help me. I knew she would be the best (and of course, she was.) As we worked together, our friendship was renewed. I was able to forgive and forget that one incident that had defined the past five years and learn to love the girl she had grown to be. We never have spoken about the incident, and it leads me to believe that perhaps it was hard on her too. But by working together, we were able to put it behind us and become close friends again.
I hope that during this month of celebrated love and laughter that you will examine your own heart and try to heal the parts of it that are damaged. Believe me, it’s worth it!

Does Physical Exercise Stimulate Creativity?

It's a new year and we all have made our New Year's resolutions. On my personal blog, for the month of January, I'm holding a contest and to enter all you do is leave a comment with your New Year's resolution. It is interesting to view the comments. Many people's resolutions are to lose weight, be more disciplined in a certain area of life, write something every day, be nicer to people around them.
I think these are all wonderful things. In fact, many of them are my own resolutions! But I had a thought yesterday, and after a bit of research, I stumbled onto something that is worth looking into - or at least thinking about. Not only is it interesting, it could help us achieve almost all of these resolutions!
One of my goals this year is to lose some weight, or in the very least, become healthier by eating better and exercising more. And I won't complain if I lost a couple inches around my waist in the process!
So, yesterday morning, I groggily stepped onto my Wii balance board only to hear the words, "You're overweight!" My brother has cautioned me not to listen too carefully to that because it measures your BMI and not your body fat. But still, hearing those words, and seeing the numbers climbing on the scale, makes one feel a little depressed! And I've been trying to work out!
Now, before anyone gets too excited, I know that muscle weighs more than fat, and I know I'm not fat. But who doesn't want to lose a little weight now and again, or at least see themselves in the 'normal' zone?
After I finished my Wii aerobics, my husband called me from the church and wanted his tennis shoes so he could shoot some hoops. I took them to him and we decided to scrimmage. I haven't played in over 10 years! Wow! I remembered how to handle the ball, at least, and I got better the longer we played. But it was a short game! Needless to say, I certainly got my heart pumping!
When I got home, I felt invigorated! I felt like I could clean my entire house! I had a hundred new thoughts for my WIP tumbling around in my head! I felt younger and much more spry. (Except for my throbbing hip!)
And the difference? For me? A half hour game of basketball.
As a singer, I know that exercise helps me improve my vocal range and breath support.
As a mom, after exercise I have more patience with my children.
As a writer, after I exercise my mind goes crazy with creativity.
A bit of research uncovered that exercise can help with creativity, too. During exercise, blood and oxygen levels decrease in the brain because the blood is needed in the muscles. But after exercise, you feel a rush of energy as everything in your body is rejuvenated. It is believed by many that if you are physically active, you are more likely to increase your creativity level as well.
So that's my new goal. Physical exercise. Then, perhaps, my writing will become easier! I won't have to plot and plan to make things happen. They just will!!

Christmas Quiz

I was doing some research for a Christmas thing this week and thought I'd make it into a little quiz. I hope you have fun!

1. Two hundred years before the birth of Christ, the Druids used mistletoe to celebrate the coming of winter. What did they believe it did?

1. It had healing powers.
2. It warded off evil spirits.
3. It helped the winter to be less sever.

2. Where did the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe come from?

1. The red of the berries symbolizes love.
2. The Scandinavians associated mistletoe with their goddess of love, Frigga.
3. Eating the berries gives the euphoric feeling of being in love.

3. Poinsettias are native to what country?

1. England.
2. Mexico.
3. Italy.

4. In the 1800's, the poinsettia was believed to be symbolic of what?

1. The star of Bethlehem.
2. The mother, Mary.
3. The birth of Jesus Christ.

5. What country did the Christmas tree originate from?

1. France.
2. England.
3. Germany.

6. Where was St. Nicolas, the first Santa Clause, born?

1. Italy.
2. Turkey.
3. Belgium.

7. What is the belief behind the Yule Log?

1. It is believed to burn away the last year's evil.
2. It is believed to warm the Christ child when he comes.
3. It is believed to welcome all to it's warmth and beauty.

8. What were the first Christmas trees decorated with?

1. Candles.
2. Cookies and candies.
3. Flowers and fruit.

For the answers, click here! Hope this was fun for you! Merry Christmas!

Influences on Writing - Part 2

Writer's Block

Do you suffer from writer's block? Do you worry that you won't make that deadline because you can't come up with anything? Have you put your writing away because you just can't get past that one part?

We've all been there. We all get writer's block! When I was writing By Love or By Sea, I sat in front of my computer for 30 days before I figured out a solution to the problem. So what did I do?

Well, first off, I sat there, every day. I tried to write and usually I ended up deleting it all. But I kept trying. When my mind was completely blank, I did research online. I kept trying to come up with new angles and new situations.

Finally, after a month of dedicated perserverence, a thought struck me. A lot like lightening. I suddenly knew exactly what to write. And I couldn't write down my thoughts fast enough. My house and family were neglected because I was so desperate not to lose my thought!

Is that the only way to go about writer's block? Probably not. I do think that by trudging on through you can work through it. Although sometimes I think you need to put it away for a week or so and work on something else before coming back to it.

One think I know for certain, if you put it away and don't keep trying, you will never get beyond it. So keep on trying. It will work out sooner or later!

*Part 1 of this series, Influences on Writing - Music, can be found at on my blog! I look forward to seeing you there!

Improving My Sense of Self-worth

by Rachel Rager

I have always known my children are here to help me learn and grow. Shortly after I gave birth to my third daughter I was depressed. And though I can blame my lack of sleep as the result of my slightly depressed manner, I am not one hundred percent convinced that there was not more behind that. My baby had been extremely grumpy one afternoon and evening and I received no more than ten minutes of respite. She would fall asleep in my arms only to wake up as soon as I set her down. I sunk into a deep depression that concerned my husband, the counselor; though I thought I was merely tired. As I awoke the next morning from another sleepless night, I could still feel the lingering effects. And all I wanted to do was lay down and sleep the day away. However, my husband suggested I get out of the house and do something. My thoughts automatically shifted to shopping. I would go to the store and buy something, because that would help improve my mood.
As I stood fixing my hair, I began to contemplate why women feel so much better about themselves when they have new clothes. It is exciting to go shopping and get new things. It makes me feel beautiful, even special. I think sometimes we rely too heavily on physical things to improve our feeling of self-worth. And so often this can thrust us into financial difficulties as well.
At an Enrichment activity the week prior, the Second Counselor in the Bishopric spoke and expressed his concern for the women of the church; for while we are a very caring, compassionate and serving group, we frequently neglect our own needs. Hence, I think we slip into a sort of depression. From there we become more concerned with things of this world and many other outside influences that we think will make us feel better. When they only make us feel good for a short little while, we grasp for other things to give us the same boon and soon are spiraling downward faster and faster. We have little sense of self-worth and have many other problems – perhaps emotionally, physically, financial, and spiritually and these things can affect our relationships, not only with a spouse, but children, parents, siblings and friends as well.
So how do we fix this? First, become intimately acquainted with the Savior. Learn of His teachings. Learn of His love, compassion and friendship. Next, submit yourselves to Him. He has atoned for you and has enabled you to use that atonement to draw closer to Him. Perhaps you have not sinned while in this cycle of self-destruction. Does that mean the atonement cannot help? No. We are all children of God, and as such, He desires for us to return to Him. By Allowing Him to share our burdens and pain, we are drawing nearer to Him.
Another step in this process of self-improvement is to take time for yourself. Do something you enjoy without feeling guilty. Plan a night with friends, away from the children once in a while. Set a budget so you do not exceed your means in the process. Go on regular dates with your spouse. Talk with your spouse about your feelings. Talking with a spouse will not only help with depression and improve self-worth, but it will also strengthen the marital relationship. If you don’t feel comfortable talking, write them a letter. Writing is very therapeutic. Exercise is also a great way to get in touch with yourself and it will improve your physical health while helping your mental health.
How will these things help you become an emotionally healthier person? When you are in touch with yourself and your needs, you are much more in tune with the Spirit. You are able to not only help yourself but are able to help those around you much more effectively. You will no longer need new clothes or other worldly possessions to make you feel better about yourself. When you take care of yourself and take the time to spend time doing what you need to do, without neglecting your family, you become close to our Savior and can truly be happy.

Oooops!

I usually try to post early and have my blog ready so it posts automatically. However, I've been painting my house and then my mom came into town and I haven't checked my emails and missed my reminder. Fortunately I found it today and not tomorrow, huh!
So, I'm not sure I have anything relevent to write today. So, I'll post this. One day in April, I went into my room and found a paper on my bed. I picked it up and instantly knew it was from my six-year-old. This is what it said. (complete with picture)

Abinadi by Lylli Rager

To my mom and dad for all the teachings about the prophets and having faith in him. I love you very much.

Abinadi was one of Heavenly Father’s prophets. He told Abinadi to come to a king. The king’s name was King Noah. So Abinadi walked to King Noah’s kingdom all alone but with Heavenly Father’s help. When he got into King Noah’s kingdom, he told them to repent or else their enemies would destroy them.
But they said, “No we don’t want to repent. Go away. Now!”
So Abinadi walked home all alone again. A few months later he came to King Noah again.
They said, “We have not repented, young man.”
Abinadi said, “All right. Your enemies are going to destroy you.”
King Noah punished him for telling the truth. His punishment was for him to walk to prison all by himself. King Noah put him in prison for two weeks! After two weeks in prison, Abinadi walked halfway home until he started thinking about the message Heavenly Father asked him to tell King Noah. So he went back to his home. He taught him about Jesus and Heavenly Father. After that King Noah wanted to kill Abinadi. So it happened. He burned him down. And that was the end of Abinadi. The end.

Reading this was one of those awesome moments as a mother when I knew I was on the right track! May you all have a wonderful Sunday!

What Are Your Blessings?

by Rachel Rager

LIFE ~ What a crazy thing. Everything seems to happen all at once! (Such as moving out of state, going on a blog tour and attend a book signing all at the same time!)
This week we closed on a new house in Provo, UT. Nearly my entire life I have lived in Casper, WY. My husband is also from Casper, so for us to make this move has been difficult. In fact, if we hadn't made the decisions we did and lived with my parents for three months, I'm not certain we would have been as eager to make this move.
Is this my dream home that I have moved into? No. Certainly not. But it's mine and I have definately learned (or rather remembered) how wonderful it is to have family, friends and ward families. The help and support we have recieved has been wonderful. I have learned to find blessings in the little things. Blessings appear in so many different shapes and sizes. I'd like to share just one with you today. When we were preparing to make this move, my four-year-old noticed my tears one day. She asked why I was crying.
"Honey, Mommy's just a little scared. That's all."
"Do you know what Nana told me?"
"What?"
"If you're scared, we should stick together. We can do anything if we stick together."
What wonderful advice. As you can see, I'm truly blessed. I hope you will take the time to look around you today and list your blessings, big and small.

The Stranger She Married

Review by Rachel Rager

I am amazed at how the act of reading helps me as a writer. When I read well written books, I want to be a better writer and I try to incorporate new writing techniques. I think it was Nicholas Sparks who said that the best way to be a better writer is to read, read, read!
I’ve heard of Donna Hatch’s book, The Stranger She Married, for at least a year now and am just barely getting around to reading it. I am so sorry it has taken me so long! I really missed out on a great story for a very long time! Donna Hatch is not only a gifted writer but a master storyteller. Her story is full of adventure, intrigue and deception! What better elements are there for a romance book? (I loved this book and am very excited to finally own it!)

When her parents and only brother die within weeks of each other, Alicia and her younger sister are left in the hands of an uncle who has brought them all to financial and social ruin. Desperate to save her family from debtor's prison, Alicia vows to marry the first wealthy man to propose. She meets the dashing Lord Amesbury, and her heart whispers that this is the man she is destined to love, but his tainted past may forever stand in their way. Her choices in potential husbands narrow to either a scarred cripple with the heart of a poet, or a handsome rake with a deadly secret.
Cole Amesbury is tormented by his own ghosts, and believes he is beyond redemption, yet he cannot deny his attraction for the girl whose genuine goodness touches the heart he'd thought long dead. He fears the scars in his soul cut so deeply that he may never be able to offer Alicia a love that is true. When yet another bizarre mishap threatens her life, Alicia suspects the seemingly unrelated accidents that have plagued her loved ones are actually a killer's attempt to exterminate every member of her family. Despite the threat looming over her, learning to love the stranger she married may pose the greatest danger to her heart.

By Love or By Sea by Rachel Rager

by Rebecca Talley

By Love or By Sea
by
Rachel Rager

From the back cover:

When a mysterious and ragged sailor appears in the seaside town where Alice Lind Frank lives with her grandparents, Alice is shocked to learn that the sailor is her childhood love, Caleb, who she thought was lost at sea. She yearns to trust him again, but what about her plans to marry Clarence Hielott, the wealthy shipyard owner? When Clarence exposes the secrets of Caleb s past, Alice realizes that the boy she once knew is now a man with a dark history. Can she trust Caleb with her heart once again? And what will she do about Clarence? Find out in this thrilling and adventurous love story.

I enjoyed reading this sweet love story. I also enjoyed being taken back in time and experiencing the adventure. By Love or By Sea is a fun story filled with interesting characters. From the slimy Clarence to the innocent Alice to the ruggedly handsome Caleb to the feisty Betsy Winters.

I loved the character of Betsy Winters and learning why she was so rude and mean in the beginning. I thought Rachel Rager created a believable character as well as developed a realistic storyline that unraveled at just the right pace. I loved how Alice, the main character, was spunky enough and determined enough to find out more about the town's meanest citizen.

This is an enjoyable book and I recommend it.

Writing in 5 minutes

Several years ago I read a blog about writing. I don't remember who's blog or much that I read that day. (I know. It must have really been amazing!) But I do remember doing some writing exercisers. Now, I've never taken a creative writing class and any bit of writing I've mostly learned through trial and error. I also don't feel like I have a lot of time to do writing exercisers. So I was skeptical about this exercise. However, this one only takes 5 minutes! And after trying it, I was utterly amazed with myself!

So let me tell you a little about this exercise. I will show you two words, which you may look at for 30 seconds, and you sit and write anything that comes to mind at the first glance. You have five minutes to complete the assignment. It doesn't have to be a full story. Just start writing. Don't let your pencil (or fingers) come off the paper (or keyboard.) Try to write for a solid 5 minutes. Push yourself and see how much you can do in 5 minutes. You'll be amazed.

There are a couple of things, though. You need to use the first word shown you as the first word of your writing. The second word needs to appear in the first sentence.

So, are you read?

Get set...

(Remember you only have 30 seconds.)

Look...

Fire

&

Chair

Now write and let me know how it goes! Good luck and have fun!

If you want to do this again, go here and there's another set of words.

By Love or By Sea WINNER

I'm pretty excited about this! I love book give-aways! Who doesn't like a FREE book? Anyway, two weeks are finally up and the winner of

By Love or By Sea

by Rachel Rager

is...

Lynn Parsons

Congrats, Lynn! Just send your mailing address to

rachelrager(dot)romance(at)gmail(dot)com

and I'll get that out PRONTO!!!

(I hope you love it! And I hope if you didn't win, you will still read it! And make sure to check back to see if you win one of the other books too.)

And, for anyone who wants a thought provoking question. . .

When Caleb Newman left for sea, he had different reasons for leaving than the popular opinion. If events had occured differently at the ball when he saved Alice's virtue,

would he have made the same decisions? If not, what would he have done differently? And how would Lydia Burns effect the dynamic of the story?

(Read By Love or By Sea)

Leave me a comment with your thoughts! I can't wait to hear them!!

Happy Kisses!

By Love or By Sea - Give Away!

I thought I'd give you a little treat and include a small section of my book. I'm so thrilled with the idea of this contest! And I hope you will all eagerly leave me a comment! I will announce the winner on Sunday, August 23rd. (So just leave me a comment about how much you want to read it and how much you adore me and you are automatically entered!) There will be prizes given away between now and then too from other authors, so make sure to stop by and see what they are! I wish you all the best of luck and happy kissing.

As Alice began on her journey home and passed through the town, she exchanged pleasantries with a few people but mostly kept to herself, enjoying the view of the vast ocean growing in front of her and the goings-on of the town...
Then, as though nothing more than a mirage, she saw a tired man crest over the hill coming from the beach and walking towards her. The distance between the man and herself allowed her time to stare at him without being obvious. The tall man wore a tattered pair of trousers and a fairly clean, cotton shirt fastened only by three lower buttons, allowing his vast muscles to protrude from beneath as he carried a knapsack on his shoulder. His skin was bronzed from what she assumed were probably years spent in the sun. His sandy whiskers weren’t long but had obviously been neglected for many days, and his blonde hair was nearly as white as old Mrs. Winters’, but unlike hers, his hair traveled halfway down his back.
He sported an odd appearance, yet he was almost intriguingly familiar...
“Excuse me, miss?”
Alice turned at the sound of a soft, masculine voice and there, looking expectantly at her, stood the man she had been visually devouring only moments before. “Yes?”
“I realize this is probably a strange thing to ask, but . . .” He paused and looked at the inquisitive eyes that were lingering on him from passing spectators. He seemed suddenly less sure of himself. “D-do you know if the . . . the Newman’s still live around here?” he asked in a lowered, hesitant voice.
“Well, sure. They’ve lived west of town about a mile for longer than I can remember.” Then as curiosity got the better of her, she could not restrain the question from escaping her lips. “Are you one of Augustus’s nephews? You bear a striking resemblance to Augustus himself.”
The man chuckled uncomfortably and pushed a hand through his tangled hair. “Well, thank you, miss, but I’m not his nephew.”
A look of pain seemed to cross his face before he tipped his head to her in parting and left her alone to ponder on the encounter. Alice knew she had never seen this man before. She would have remembered. His weathered face made him appear quite old, and she felt a stab of sorrow at the look of pain that had so recently crossed his face. The look in the man’s eyes caused him to look somehow even older than he did at first sight.
That evening as she sat in the parlor with her nana and pappy, her gaze lingered on the fire while her embroidery sat forgotten on her lap. “What has your mind in a tumble tonight, peach?” Gretchen asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she answered casually...
“Well, are you just going to sit there until she drags it out of you, or are you going to tell it to us straight out?” Henry asked, equally concerned about his granddaughter.
“I don’t really know what to think, Pappy. My mind’s all muddled up and I can’t seem to make heads or tails out of anything.”...
“Why don’t you start by telling me how things were while you still could make sense of them,” Gretchen encouraged.
“Well, I went to see Mama and everything went well. She was attentive to me, and we had a real nice time. I came home, just like I always do and then . . .”
“Yes?” Henry said when she paused.
“Oh, I don’t know what to think,” Alice whispered desperately. “I was walking home, and then there was this man who came over the edge of the hill. He’d obviously come from the beach.”
“Was it Clarence?” Gretchen interrupted. “He’s normally coming back to town about that time of day.”
“Of course not,” Henry put in. “She would have recognized him.”
Gretchen and Henry were both completely captivated by what Alice had to say, but in truth Alice could not figure out what she was thinking. So how on earth did they think she would be able to tell them a story they could understand? “No, it wasn’t Clarence. In fact, I don’t know who it was. My gut instinct tells me he was a ghost, except he spoke to me.”
“A ghost?” Gretchen laughed. “Really, peach! What would put your mind to thinking something as crazy as that?”
“I’m serious, Nana!” Alice whined loudly.
“All right then. What was it about the man that put it into your mind that he was a ghost?” Gretchen asked repentantly.
“Well, he looked real enough, but he reminded me of . . . He kind of looked like . . .”
“Who?” Henry coached.
“I don’t know if I can utter his name.” Gretchen’s rather disappointed look displayed itself blatantly upon her face. Alice knew her grandparents were dissatisfied with her answer, but she didn’t know if she could tell them who the man looked like. So she changed the direction of the conversation. “He spoke to me though. His voice was low and hushed, as though he was afraid to speak.”...
“Alice, who was it that the man reminded you of?” Henry asked.
“Pappy, I don’t know if I can utter his name,” Alice whimpered.
“And why not?”
Alice hesitated, attempting to give enough information without actually having to say the man’s name aloud. “He died about six years ago in a ship wreck while he was at sea as a merchant sailor.”
“Are you trying to tell us that you spoke to Caleb Newman on the street in town today?” Gretchen asked reverently.
“I don’t know that it was him, Nana. And besides, how could it be him? Remember? Grace said there were no survivors.”
“But . . .”
“No, Nana. I’m certain my mind was just playing tricks on me. It was probably some poor sailor, anchored in town for a few days.” With that, the topic died, and the conversation moved on to other things, but that night as Alice lay in bed waiting for sleep to engulf her, the image of the man on the street kept her weary mind company. He was, after all, intriguing and very striking in his appearance, no matter how tattered and tired he looked. The thought of him being an older version of the ever-so-handsome Caleb Newman made the mystery of the man all the more enticing. He had been such a good looking young man; tall and very handsome. Rolling over with a smile on her face, she eventually found respite as she fell asleep thinking of the young man she’d thought of so often before.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9UC78cx-kE

It's My Turn Again. Any Ideas?

By Rachel Rager

I often run into trouble when thinking about what it is I want to write for a blog. This is not necessarily the place you go to post all your family reunion pictures. It's not the place where you tell all your deepest and darkest secrets either. (No, I don't have any. I have kids! And they certainly don't let me leave the house without my pants on.) But it is a place to learn and grow and find friends.


So what do you tell all these friends?


I'm still not always certain. Last time, I was out of town and posted a short story I'd written at the spur of the moment several months before. That works and kind of shows you a little bit about who I am and what I do. But what about the next time? I'm not the most knowledgeable when it comes to how to promote a book, how to write a book, or even how to find an idea. But I'm reading lots and learning.


I do know that I keep notebooks EVERYWHERE and am writing a little here and a little there. Sometimes I start a story at the beginning and go to the end. Sometimes I write different scenes and lace them together. So you see, there is no method to my madness. (Maybe it's inherited?)


I did just post a teaser, for a book I'm working on, on my personal blog. Check it out. I need some help and there might be a prize for whoever can help me! So for now, I will leave you with my jumbled thoughts. May your day be sunny and cheerful and full of yummy kisses!

Where Mom is, There the Fun is Also!

By Rachel Rager

The morning dawned bright and cool but promised to warm up toward the afternoon. I unbuckled Layla and Seryn from their car seats and proceeded to herd the children into the house. Having just dropped off Lylli at school, the younger two quickly darted toward her desk to rummage around for treasure.
“Girls, stay out of Lylli’s desk! Why don’t you come in the kitchen and color,” I suggested, hoping that would keep them out of the way while I did last night’s dishes. Crusted food clung to the tower of plates and pans piled precariously in the sink and on the neighboring counter. Before I endeavored to attack that task, I placed coloring books and crayons on the table. The girls raced into the kitchen in a whirl of noise and giggles and climbed up to the table. I prayed they would stay occupied for a good half hour and that I wouldn’t have to clean crayon off the walls later.
To my relief, the girls were engaged in the activity longer than I’d hoped. Not only was I able to get the dishes loaded into the dishwasher and the counter cleared off, I was able to make it into the bathroom unnoticed and start to work on that germ and dirt infested room. However, before I was able to do much, Layla, my three-year-old, hollered from the kitchen.
“Mom! Seryn needs her britches changed! She’s stinky!”
“Ugh,” I groaned. But, rather than see another diaper rash break out on my one-year-old’s bottom, I called, “Come here, Seryn, and Mommy will change your diaper,” in as pleasant of voice as I could muster.
Seryn came running through the house to me, as fast as her little legs would carry her. I changed her diaper and after seeing her back to the kitchen to color, I returned to my chore of cleaning the bathroom. One of the dirtiest rooms of the house, the bathroom seemed to need cleaning at least twice a week. I grumbled as I worked. With five people in the family, the bathroom never stayed clean, and I didn't seem to get to it nearly as often as I wanted.
One reason the bathroom was so dirty was that the girls had learned to scale the drawers in order to reach the counter, thoroughly frightening their mother. From there, they loved to stand on the counter and search for things within the vanity – preferably my make-up or the toothpaste – or play in the water, claiming to wash their hands and leaving puddles of water all over the bathroom.
“Mommy, I want to help. Can I help clean?” Layla asked, with Seryn trailing right behind her.
“Honey, Mommy just wants to get this done. Why don’t you girls go find some books to read?”
“I don’t want to read. Can we play outside?”
“Not right now. I want to be able to watch you. Maybe you could play when I go out to weed later.”
“Can we play with the play dough? We’ll stay in the kitchen.”
“Mommy’s cleaning today. Could you go straighten your room? That would be a big help. Do you want to help Mommy by cleaning your room?”
“Sure!” she squealed and darted off to clean her room.
If they actually managed to get their room clean, that would be a huge help and one less thing for me to worry about. If not, perhaps they would at least stay busy for a while. I would much rather be out enjoying the sun at the park instead of working inside. Cleaning is invigorating, but I wished I could go outside and enjoy the warmth of the day. Oh well, I sighed and quickly set about finishing the bathroom.
When I was done, I trudged down the stairs, already weary from a busy morning. Undoubtedly the sheets would be dry and ready to be put on the beds. I opened the dryer and retrieved the sheets. They were so warm! The smell of fabric softener permeated the air as I buried my face in them. I loved the smell of freshly laundered sheets, so warm and inviting, I wanted nothing more than to wrap them around myself and cuddle up with a good book. But I still had bills to pay and weeds to pull on this fine spring morning. So, ignoring my impulses, I quickly headed up the stairs to make the beds.
The girls had become distracted in their cleaning adventure and now raced little Tonka trucks across the hardwood floors in the living room. I tried to walk around them without stepping on one of the toys as I made my way to their room. All three girls shared a room and I quickly put sheets on the crib first. I then began with the mattress of the bottom bunk bed and finished it off with the quilt.
As I moved to the top bunk, my little sweethearts came barreling into the room. Trying to finish quickly in an effort to get the bills paid before the mailman arrived, I vaguely registered that Layla and Seryn had climbed onto the freshly made bed and were playing around – undoubtedly rumpling the neatly tucked-in sheets.
After a brief moment, Layla said, “Mom, can you please leave so we can jump on the bed?”
What a day it had been. I’d been so busy doing my chores I don’t think I’d smiled all day long. Now, of course, I wanted to laugh! Why on earth would a child ask her mother to leave the room and then admit the crime she was about to commit? Knowing if I laughed, the teaching moment would be for naught, I swallowed my amusement. Sitting down on the bed of the bottom bunk by my daughter’s side, there was enough room for me to sit up straight. There would probably be ample room for her little body to jump, if she hunched over. Still, I could not allow it.
“Honey, you can’t be jumping on the bed. You might fall and get hurt and that would make Mommy very sad.”
“Could I break my leg?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said with a confident look in her eye.
“Layla, we don’t jump on the bed.”
“But it's just pretend. See? Watch!” She bent her little legs for maximum power and leaped across the bed as Seryn giggled and started to bounce with her. “That's not a real jump, Mom.”
A giggle burst from deep within me as I began to laugh. Of course it was a jump! But in her mind, since it wasn’t high, the jump hardly constituted breaking the rules. Rather than scold further, I gathered my giggling girls in my arms with a big hug and laughed, enjoying the togetherness of mother and daughters. For a brief moment, my heart swelled and I remembered – amidst the demands of my day – the reason I am so grateful to be a mother. Nothing matches the tender, precious moments of enjoying my children.

The Phone Call

The phone rang the other morning with the obnoxious ring that all phones have. Racing to answer it before the person hung up, I answered, slightly out of breath.
“Rachel? I just wanted to call and give you a heads up that you might need to get a substitute pianist for the choir on Sunday,” Sister Jones said on the other end. She sounded a little frantic. “Sister Baker’s daughter is on her way to the children’s hospital in Salt Lake and doesn’t know when they’ll be back.”
“Oh, no! What happened?”
“Emma fell off their horse a while back and they thought she just had the flu. But apparently she has some major internal problems with her organs and they took her to Salt Lake this morning.”
Now, I’m the choir director in my ward and we’re singing today. Fortunately the second councilor in the bishopric’s wife said she’d play and does a masterful job. But honestly, my first thought was not for my choir or the predicament I was in but for the Baker family.
The Bakers don’t have very much money and they have eight children. Sister Baker just had a bout of cancer and one of the boys has had cancer too. So this is not a family unaccustomed to trials. Still, my heart went out to poor little Emma who is not yet even four! I can only imagine how scared she must be – and her parents too.
About two weeks before this, my husband and I were getting ready for bed late on night when we heard the piercing sirens of an ambulance as it stopped across the street from our home. Knowing the 83 year-old grandmother who lived there had a severe heart attack the month before and had problems with fluid collecting on her lungs, we rushed out to see what was wrong. The medics wheeled her out on a stretcher and her sister and her worried children filed into the street. We feared the worst but her daughter said she would probably be okay. She wasn’t eating and had more fluid on her lungs. In fact, over the course of the last month, they have pumped about 48 pints of fluid from off her lungs. But she has signed the papers saying they aren’t allowed to do anything more to her to keep her alive. So it’s only a matter of time. And while the medics and firemen arrived and then helped her into the ambulance, we sat across the street, helplessly watching as they carried away the sweet lady who has been like a grandmother to us.
Now, I don’t tell you these stories to put you down, but I have been thinking a lot about the precariousness of life. It is so easy to take our health and family for granted. I wonder what I might miss if someone special were to suddenly not be here tomorrow. Would they have felt my love for them? Would they have understood the importance they were in my life? And would I always regret not doing things differently? It is amazing how little things can put my mind into certain thoughts. I hope these things make me a better person! And I hope we all will strive to let those closest to us know of our love for them!

Introducing...Rachel Rager

I’ve been thinking a lot over the last week an a half about what I would say on my first post. Unfortunately, when I sit down to the computer to talk about myself, I freeze. Not to mention, I am the last new blogger to put in my intro. Perhaps everyone is tired of reading about the authors here. But, I want you to know me as a writer and as a person.
I love to write! And what better way to pass the time? It’s therapeutic in so many ways. Yet when I sit down to my computer and read all the introductions of these great authors I blog with, I get intimidated because I’m so new. Yes, I am a very new author! My first book, By Love or By Sea, was published in April 2009. And what a great adventure it’s been!
You might say, “Well, Rachel, you published a book. That counts for something.”
And it does! I have loved the journey I took to get published! It is a great accomplishment. Especially for someone like me, who couldn’t spell well as a child and didn’t like to read and didn’t do it well either. So, it’s amazing that I ever desired to write a book and see it to fruition. (Therefore, please forgive me for my spelling and grammatical errors. I like them!)
You may ask what my passions were before I began to write. Well, I majored in Vocal Performance. That’s right, I sing. Opera, specifically. I’m a coloratura soprano (that means I sing REALLY high.) When I was young, my mom would play the piano for the musicals at the college and I would often go with her to rehearsals. I LOVE musical theater! It helped make me the hopeless romantic that I am. And I always dreamed of starring in a play someday.
Unfortunately, this was a dream I never saw to fruition, for I got married and had three beautiful daughters. Do I regret that I never fulfilled that dream? No. I star in all my stories!
You may ask, “Rachel, if you hated reading and loved to sing, how did you start writing?”
Honestly, I owe my choice in this matter to one person. Marcia Lynn McClure. Shortly after my first daughter was born, my mother-in-law gave me A Heavenly Surrender to read. I loved it and eagerly searched out more of Marcia’s books. At the time, she only had three in print, but I devoured them!
Then one night I had a dream and when I woke up, I decided to try and write it down. Did I imagine anything might come of it? Of course not. I didn’t even know if I’d have the patience to sit and write all those words! Still, I eagerly wrote down an outline and then timidly told my husband. I will always remember the doubtful look on his face as he said, “Well…I guess if you really want to.”
I told no one else! Instead I wrote. After a month of typing during my daughter’s naps and while my husband was in classes, I finished. And it was terrible! But I had done what I set out to do. So I edited and submitted it. (Only then did I tell my mother, who was floored by my revelation.)
Needless to say, my first attempt was rejected, but I persisted. I kept rewriting, editing, and even began writing another book. I also broadened my horizons and read tons of books. With each rewrite or book I read, I learned more and more. Finally, after five years, I had written five stories. I submitted my third story and finally got a contract with CFI. Six years (almost to the month) after I started writing, I accomplished another goal and held a copy of my book in my hands. What a journey and what an incredible accomplishment!
So to anyone just starting out, I would say learn all you can, never give up, and enjoy it!