Jessica L. Elliott's Blog, page 17
September 17, 2013
Winter Quarters
So before I fall a week behind again, my trek made it! Well, to Winter Quarters anyway. We still have a long ways to go before reaching Salt Lake.
And so, Winter Quarters. Let me just start by saying that to date, of the places I've visited Winter Quarters is my absolute, number one, most favoritest church history site! I absolutely adore it!
Why? you ask.
The answer is perhaps a little complicated. But I'll give it a go. Winter Quarters is one of those places that you don't just see history. You feel it. Perhaps you've been to such a place. The first experience I had with Winter Quarters was when the temple was dedicated. I vividly remember watching the broadcast and feeling something deep within me stir. I told my mother that very day, "Mom, when I get married, I'm going there."
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the site, it is in Omaha, Nebraska. Like Garden Grove, Winter Quarters was a way station. The pioneers stopped there to wait through the winter, building simple cabins and planting crops. It was a refiner's fire for many. Sickness and lack of adequate provisions weakened them. For 2000 pioneers, their journey ended.
At sixteen, my family decided to go on a little trek ourselves following the Mormon Trail as much as possible. Naturally one of the stops was in Winter Quarters. I was able to see the new temple and bask in the spirit there. It was so very quiet. Not even the leaves rustled in the trees that day. The breeze blew by with the merest hint of a whisper. We walked through the pioneer cemetery and I was struck by the peace I felt. There wasn't a feeling of sorrow there as I've felt before. Rather it was a spirit of peace, of faith and of love.
Many pioneers were buried in that cemetery ranging from the very old to the newborn unable to withstand the hard winter and illness that festered there. I imagined the heartbreak of the new mother whose child would not go with her to Zion. I imagined the sorrow of the husband burying his wife. And yet despite the anguish that surely must have been felt, these faithful pioneers never faltered. They mourned their dead, but with hope rather than despair. They knew that death was a part of life and that those they left behind would not be separated from them forever. They knew that one day they would be reunited.
Anytime I think of Winter Quarters, I think of the last verse in the hymn "Come, Come Ye Saints":
And should we die before our journey's through,
Happy day! All is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell!
But if our lives are spared again
To see the saints their rest obtain,
Oh, how we'll make this chorus swell -
All is well! All is well!
So it is with us. We too can feel that hope and have that faith. We must continue on, following the trek laid out. When the going gets tough, we must have the faith to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And when things are well, let us always be grateful and lift those around us.
And so, Winter Quarters. Let me just start by saying that to date, of the places I've visited Winter Quarters is my absolute, number one, most favoritest church history site! I absolutely adore it!
Why? you ask.
The answer is perhaps a little complicated. But I'll give it a go. Winter Quarters is one of those places that you don't just see history. You feel it. Perhaps you've been to such a place. The first experience I had with Winter Quarters was when the temple was dedicated. I vividly remember watching the broadcast and feeling something deep within me stir. I told my mother that very day, "Mom, when I get married, I'm going there."
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the site, it is in Omaha, Nebraska. Like Garden Grove, Winter Quarters was a way station. The pioneers stopped there to wait through the winter, building simple cabins and planting crops. It was a refiner's fire for many. Sickness and lack of adequate provisions weakened them. For 2000 pioneers, their journey ended.
At sixteen, my family decided to go on a little trek ourselves following the Mormon Trail as much as possible. Naturally one of the stops was in Winter Quarters. I was able to see the new temple and bask in the spirit there. It was so very quiet. Not even the leaves rustled in the trees that day. The breeze blew by with the merest hint of a whisper. We walked through the pioneer cemetery and I was struck by the peace I felt. There wasn't a feeling of sorrow there as I've felt before. Rather it was a spirit of peace, of faith and of love.
Many pioneers were buried in that cemetery ranging from the very old to the newborn unable to withstand the hard winter and illness that festered there. I imagined the heartbreak of the new mother whose child would not go with her to Zion. I imagined the sorrow of the husband burying his wife. And yet despite the anguish that surely must have been felt, these faithful pioneers never faltered. They mourned their dead, but with hope rather than despair. They knew that death was a part of life and that those they left behind would not be separated from them forever. They knew that one day they would be reunited.
Anytime I think of Winter Quarters, I think of the last verse in the hymn "Come, Come Ye Saints":
And should we die before our journey's through,
Happy day! All is well!
We then are free from toil and sorrow, too;
With the just we shall dwell!
But if our lives are spared again
To see the saints their rest obtain,
Oh, how we'll make this chorus swell -
All is well! All is well!
So it is with us. We too can feel that hope and have that faith. We must continue on, following the trek laid out. When the going gets tough, we must have the faith to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And when things are well, let us always be grateful and lift those around us.
September 12, 2013
Two Steps Forward and Three Steps Back
No, I'm not teaching a new dance. This is kind of what life has been the last little while. I'm behind in everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING! I'm sure you understand the feeling. This weekend will be one of desperate catch-up so that I can stay on track for some of my bigger goals, like releasing the third Charming book in mid-October, early November. I'm also trying to get some Christmas projects done, because we all know that there is no time in November and December for such things! The holidays are whispering in my ear that they're coming up faster than I'll be ready and NaNoWriMo is taunting me by reminding me that November is a mere month and a half away!
*insert scream here*
But despite all the hectic craziness that is motherhood, I'm doing pretty well. I've been mostly on track in my trek, which brings me to one of my behind things. We passed Garden Grove last week and I've yet to write about it! So here's some neat facts I've found:
* Garden Grove was a way station for Mormon pioneers. Here cabins were built and crops planted for those who would come later. It provided a place of rest and solitude for weary travelers from 1846 to 1852
*Orson Pratt recorded on May 10, 1846, "A large amount of labour has been done since arriving in this grove: indeed the whole camp are very industrious. Many houses have been built, wells dug, extensive farms fenced, and the whole place assumes the appearance of having been occupied for years, and clearly shows what can be accomplished by union, industry, and perseverance."
*Garden Grove was the first permanent settlement in the Potawatomi Indian lands in what was territorial Iowa.
*There is still a town called Garden Grove not far from the original site.
(Thanks to the National Park Service website http://www.nps.gov/mopi/planyourvisit...)
Soon I'll be adding in Winter Quarters! But we're not there quite yet. :)
And now I must return to my other projects. Time goes fast! Especially during nap time. ;)
*insert scream here*
But despite all the hectic craziness that is motherhood, I'm doing pretty well. I've been mostly on track in my trek, which brings me to one of my behind things. We passed Garden Grove last week and I've yet to write about it! So here's some neat facts I've found:
* Garden Grove was a way station for Mormon pioneers. Here cabins were built and crops planted for those who would come later. It provided a place of rest and solitude for weary travelers from 1846 to 1852
*Orson Pratt recorded on May 10, 1846, "A large amount of labour has been done since arriving in this grove: indeed the whole camp are very industrious. Many houses have been built, wells dug, extensive farms fenced, and the whole place assumes the appearance of having been occupied for years, and clearly shows what can be accomplished by union, industry, and perseverance."
*Garden Grove was the first permanent settlement in the Potawatomi Indian lands in what was territorial Iowa.
*There is still a town called Garden Grove not far from the original site.
(Thanks to the National Park Service website http://www.nps.gov/mopi/planyourvisit...)
Soon I'll be adding in Winter Quarters! But we're not there quite yet. :)
And now I must return to my other projects. Time goes fast! Especially during nap time. ;)
September 3, 2013
True Inspiration
Since starting our trek almost a week ago I've had a few of my faithful walkers make comments about how this was just the motivation they needed. I've had them thank me for starting something that will help them out.
Well you my wonderful friends are the real inspiration! Let me tell you a little about why this started.
To start with there are a few words that every good man forbids his wife from saying about herself. Ladies, you know exactly which ones I'm talking about, but for you guys who might be scratching your heads here they are: (Sweetie, please note I'm not using them on myself.) fat, ugly, stupid, worthless, lazy, etc.
Last Tuesday had been a pretty awful day and really it had started with the weekend. My husband and I had dealt with some pretty big setbacks in purchasing our house and I was feeling very discouraged. Then our car started acting up and I knew there was absolutely no money to fix it with and knowing how my luck was going, it wasn't going to be cheap. By Tuesday night I was frazzled, tired and emotionally spent. The kids had been having a rough day and my wonderful husband had been late getting home from work. As we put them to bed I announced that I was taking a shower (which I had not yet been able to get to that day) and that I was only to be interrupted if the house was on fire. I walked into the bathroom, turned on the water in the tub and stripped down for a shower. Now the biggest problem with using a shower to relax is that every single physical flaw is glaringly obvious to you. As I got in and felt the water on my face, tears mingled in as those forbidden words tumbled through my thoughts like pebbles in a stream. (Sorry dear.)
Now I very firmly believe that it is possible to have a close relationship with God. As our Heavenly Father, He loves each of us and wants our happiness. And so another heartfelt conversation started up silently in the shower. I told Him how inadequate I felt, how nothing seemed to be going well. I told Him that my feeble attempts to get back into shape were failing miserably. I told Him that I felt spiritually drained and couldn't seem to get the habits that had been so easy in high school back into my schedule. I whined and cried and then finally asked for help.
He answered by reminding me of a conversation with my mother-in-law a few years before. Their Relief Society had been having a little race with the Young Women to follow the pioneer trail. I could adapt that to start my own trek. The walking program I did at home was about two miles in half an hour. But I didn't just want to improve my physical health, I wanted to improve my spirit too. So I decided that ten minutes of personal study would equal one mile.
It's a long way from Nauvoo to Salt Lake City, so I decided to invite my Facebook friends to join in. I figured I'd get maybe four or five. I knew my sweet mom-in-law and wonderful mommy would probably join in, but I figured other takers would be limited.
Imagine my surprise and joy when my walkers jumped up to nineteen, forcing me to split us into two companies. I'm not going to lie,I got teary-eyed as I set that up. I wouldn't have to make the journey alone. As comments and personal messages came in, I realized that in answering my prayer, our loving Father had answered the prayers of others too.
And so to those of you who have joined the trek, thank you. You have inspired me beyond words. And to those who are silently or with comments and encouragement supporting me or the others in my trek, thank you! We need those encouraging words. We all need to be reminded that those forbidden words do not apply to any of us. And as we travel the trail together, I hope that each of you will feel physically healthy but also that your spirits will be touched with the things you need at this time. I love you and appreciate you more than I can say! You are my inspiration!
Well you my wonderful friends are the real inspiration! Let me tell you a little about why this started.
To start with there are a few words that every good man forbids his wife from saying about herself. Ladies, you know exactly which ones I'm talking about, but for you guys who might be scratching your heads here they are: (Sweetie, please note I'm not using them on myself.) fat, ugly, stupid, worthless, lazy, etc.
Last Tuesday had been a pretty awful day and really it had started with the weekend. My husband and I had dealt with some pretty big setbacks in purchasing our house and I was feeling very discouraged. Then our car started acting up and I knew there was absolutely no money to fix it with and knowing how my luck was going, it wasn't going to be cheap. By Tuesday night I was frazzled, tired and emotionally spent. The kids had been having a rough day and my wonderful husband had been late getting home from work. As we put them to bed I announced that I was taking a shower (which I had not yet been able to get to that day) and that I was only to be interrupted if the house was on fire. I walked into the bathroom, turned on the water in the tub and stripped down for a shower. Now the biggest problem with using a shower to relax is that every single physical flaw is glaringly obvious to you. As I got in and felt the water on my face, tears mingled in as those forbidden words tumbled through my thoughts like pebbles in a stream. (Sorry dear.)
Now I very firmly believe that it is possible to have a close relationship with God. As our Heavenly Father, He loves each of us and wants our happiness. And so another heartfelt conversation started up silently in the shower. I told Him how inadequate I felt, how nothing seemed to be going well. I told Him that my feeble attempts to get back into shape were failing miserably. I told Him that I felt spiritually drained and couldn't seem to get the habits that had been so easy in high school back into my schedule. I whined and cried and then finally asked for help.
He answered by reminding me of a conversation with my mother-in-law a few years before. Their Relief Society had been having a little race with the Young Women to follow the pioneer trail. I could adapt that to start my own trek. The walking program I did at home was about two miles in half an hour. But I didn't just want to improve my physical health, I wanted to improve my spirit too. So I decided that ten minutes of personal study would equal one mile.
It's a long way from Nauvoo to Salt Lake City, so I decided to invite my Facebook friends to join in. I figured I'd get maybe four or five. I knew my sweet mom-in-law and wonderful mommy would probably join in, but I figured other takers would be limited.
Imagine my surprise and joy when my walkers jumped up to nineteen, forcing me to split us into two companies. I'm not going to lie,I got teary-eyed as I set that up. I wouldn't have to make the journey alone. As comments and personal messages came in, I realized that in answering my prayer, our loving Father had answered the prayers of others too.
And so to those of you who have joined the trek, thank you. You have inspired me beyond words. And to those who are silently or with comments and encouragement supporting me or the others in my trek, thank you! We need those encouraging words. We all need to be reminded that those forbidden words do not apply to any of us. And as we travel the trail together, I hope that each of you will feel physically healthy but also that your spirits will be touched with the things you need at this time. I love you and appreciate you more than I can say! You are my inspiration!
August 28, 2013
Starting in Nauvoo
In what was a mosquito-infested swamp, early Latter-day Saints built a new city that they hoped would be a refuge from the tribulations and troubles that had pursued them from Kirkland, to Missouri and then to Illinois. On the banks of the Mississippi River, they built a new settlement and named it Nauvoo from the Hebrew meaning "beautiful".
For a while things were peaceful. The town grew and flourished and soon the early members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were building a temple. Thousands of new converts immigrated to America and the city grew until it was the one of the largest cities in the state.
However, trouble soon found them again and the "Mormons" were once again required to leave their homes in the mid to late 1840's. Knowing only that they were heading west, the faithful pioneers started out. Following the prophet Brigham Young, they did not know where they were going or what lay ahead. But they knew that God would be with them.
Now I know what you're thinking. "Jessica, what does this have to do with your books? Are you writing a book about Nauvoo? Is this a hint?"
The answer is no, I'm not writing a book about Nauvoo, though I may later after some of my other projects are done. And no this post doesn't really have anything to do with my books (though at the end will be a reminder of the discount codes). This post is the start of a journey.
For a while I've played at getting myself back in shape. I'd exercise for a few days, sometimes even managing a couple of weeks. But I'd always fall out of the routine. I've also been wanting to be more regular in my personal study habits and so I stole an idea from my mom-in-law:
I'm going to walk to Salt Lake City from Nauvoo as my ancestors did before me, sort of. No, I'm not going to have my husband drop me off in Nauvoo and say, "Good luck!" while I hoof it to Salt Lake. I am always amazed at the faith and sheer determination of my ancestors who did exactly that. Instead, I'm going to keep track of my exercise and study goals in the form of "miles" on the trek. I will be mapping out the trail and then following it. 30 minutes of exercise equals 2 miles (unless of course I actually am taking a walk in which case I will write down the actual miles) and 10 minutes of personal study count as 1 mile.
But it's a 1240ish mile trek and that would be an awful long ways to go by myself. So I'm enlisting friends and loved ones to make the journey with me. Improve your physical and spiritual health and join me in this virtual trek. As we reach the same milestones that the pioneers did, I will write blog posts about the area giving some history, anecdotes and little stories either from my own experiences, my family history, or the history/experiences of those taking the journey with me.
So, back to Nauvoo. I did have family that settled Nauvoo before making the trek to Salt Lake City. John Rowlandson Robinson Sr. with his parents and siblings immigrated to America from Yorkshire, England after being taught by Mormon missionaries and accepting the gospel. He married Alice Coupe in Nauvoo and together they had two children, Sarah Ann and Richard Ammon. Alice died in May of 1847 just as the family was preparing to leave Nauvoo. That August, he married Alice's sister, Jane Coupe, in Iowa and they continued on the trek together.
In 2001, I went with my family to Nauvoo. Young Women's camp was to be held there and for health reasons, I couldn't camp that year. So my dad, not wanting me to miss out on a wonderful testimony-building experience, packed our family into our 12 passenger van and we all went to Nauvoo together. There's a special spirit in Nauvoo. You can feel the history there and you can feel hope and optimism. It's a beautiful place and we enjoyed seeing all the historic sites and listening to the history retold. While we were there, the Nauvoo Temple was in the process of being rebuilt and I remember hoping that I could someday go back and see it completed.
That opportunity came in 2004, just before I left for New Mexico to work a summer at Philmont Scout Ranch. The temple was gorgeous and the pioneer spirit I'd fallen in love with at sixteen still permeated that town. It was a beautiful experience and many pages in my personal journal were devoted to describing the beauty and peace that I found there.
And so now I'm going to begin my trek. Not a literal one like I did in 2001 with my family (though in the luxury of a modern "wagon" rather than an oxcart) but a figurative one. Join with me, even if only to enjoy learning the history with me as I tell you about the stops along the way. If you have stories, share them with me! I love good stories, especially ones that are true!
Don't forget that the Back to School sale is still going! Get your discounted copies of my books today! Go to www.JessicaLElliott.com to find the links to the eStores. The sale ends soon!
Discount Codes:
Charming Academy - GWHQ24H9
Finding Prince Charming - GMJZXT8C
Mischief, Mayhem and NOT Burning the House Down - 2N6Y2VM5
For a while things were peaceful. The town grew and flourished and soon the early members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints were building a temple. Thousands of new converts immigrated to America and the city grew until it was the one of the largest cities in the state.
However, trouble soon found them again and the "Mormons" were once again required to leave their homes in the mid to late 1840's. Knowing only that they were heading west, the faithful pioneers started out. Following the prophet Brigham Young, they did not know where they were going or what lay ahead. But they knew that God would be with them.
Now I know what you're thinking. "Jessica, what does this have to do with your books? Are you writing a book about Nauvoo? Is this a hint?"
The answer is no, I'm not writing a book about Nauvoo, though I may later after some of my other projects are done. And no this post doesn't really have anything to do with my books (though at the end will be a reminder of the discount codes). This post is the start of a journey.
For a while I've played at getting myself back in shape. I'd exercise for a few days, sometimes even managing a couple of weeks. But I'd always fall out of the routine. I've also been wanting to be more regular in my personal study habits and so I stole an idea from my mom-in-law:
I'm going to walk to Salt Lake City from Nauvoo as my ancestors did before me, sort of. No, I'm not going to have my husband drop me off in Nauvoo and say, "Good luck!" while I hoof it to Salt Lake. I am always amazed at the faith and sheer determination of my ancestors who did exactly that. Instead, I'm going to keep track of my exercise and study goals in the form of "miles" on the trek. I will be mapping out the trail and then following it. 30 minutes of exercise equals 2 miles (unless of course I actually am taking a walk in which case I will write down the actual miles) and 10 minutes of personal study count as 1 mile.
But it's a 1240ish mile trek and that would be an awful long ways to go by myself. So I'm enlisting friends and loved ones to make the journey with me. Improve your physical and spiritual health and join me in this virtual trek. As we reach the same milestones that the pioneers did, I will write blog posts about the area giving some history, anecdotes and little stories either from my own experiences, my family history, or the history/experiences of those taking the journey with me.
So, back to Nauvoo. I did have family that settled Nauvoo before making the trek to Salt Lake City. John Rowlandson Robinson Sr. with his parents and siblings immigrated to America from Yorkshire, England after being taught by Mormon missionaries and accepting the gospel. He married Alice Coupe in Nauvoo and together they had two children, Sarah Ann and Richard Ammon. Alice died in May of 1847 just as the family was preparing to leave Nauvoo. That August, he married Alice's sister, Jane Coupe, in Iowa and they continued on the trek together.
In 2001, I went with my family to Nauvoo. Young Women's camp was to be held there and for health reasons, I couldn't camp that year. So my dad, not wanting me to miss out on a wonderful testimony-building experience, packed our family into our 12 passenger van and we all went to Nauvoo together. There's a special spirit in Nauvoo. You can feel the history there and you can feel hope and optimism. It's a beautiful place and we enjoyed seeing all the historic sites and listening to the history retold. While we were there, the Nauvoo Temple was in the process of being rebuilt and I remember hoping that I could someday go back and see it completed.
That opportunity came in 2004, just before I left for New Mexico to work a summer at Philmont Scout Ranch. The temple was gorgeous and the pioneer spirit I'd fallen in love with at sixteen still permeated that town. It was a beautiful experience and many pages in my personal journal were devoted to describing the beauty and peace that I found there.
And so now I'm going to begin my trek. Not a literal one like I did in 2001 with my family (though in the luxury of a modern "wagon" rather than an oxcart) but a figurative one. Join with me, even if only to enjoy learning the history with me as I tell you about the stops along the way. If you have stories, share them with me! I love good stories, especially ones that are true!
Don't forget that the Back to School sale is still going! Get your discounted copies of my books today! Go to www.JessicaLElliott.com to find the links to the eStores. The sale ends soon!
Discount Codes:
Charming Academy - GWHQ24H9
Finding Prince Charming - GMJZXT8C
Mischief, Mayhem and NOT Burning the House Down - 2N6Y2VM5
August 20, 2013
Back to School Fun
So it's that time again. Mothers are posting pictures of their little ones all dressed up with backpack slung over the shoulder for those "First Day of School" pictures. Office supplies are impossible to find at any store because dutiful mommies and daddies have bought them out for their students. Teachers are lesson planning, principals are organizing events like "Meet the Teacher" night or Open Houses. College students are packing their cars and getting ready for a new year of papers, tests and insane book prices.
I love this time of year. It's not just the sales on notebooks, pens and other writing necessities. It's not even that the holidays are just around the corner. It's the enthusiasm for learning and quest for knowledge that I love. For a few short weeks,just about everyone feels that excitement. And then the first big homework assignment hits and the love wears a little thin.
Most students will have to write book reports and I wish they didn't dread them so. Instead of looking at it as another paper to write, look at it as another adventure to discover. There's a whole different world between the pages of a book. A world that can take you to the farthest reaches of your imagination if you'll let it. I wish that more kids understood the magic of a good book. I wish that our schools instead of focusing on the mechanics of reading (and yes, I do understand that those are important too) focused on the wonder of reading. Let's teach kids to see books as a passport to another place. Let's teach kids to see books as a way to escape the normal, everyday things into a world of the extraordinary. Let's teach kids to love books, not just tolerate them because they have to. There's something magical about walking into a bookstore. The smell of the paper and ink like a million good ideas wafts through the building, permeating the walls with mystery and wonder. There's something special about opening a book and reading the words off the page. The more you read, the farther from reality you seem to go. Suddenly you're not in your room anymore, you're on a pirate ship heading for buried treasure. Instead of sitting on the porch, you're sitting at the top of a tower watching for Prince Charming to come riding in on his white charger.
Books are magical, wonderful things. This school year, share the magic with your students, favorite teachers, or local librarian. Share it with a friend. For the month of August and into September, all of my books will be discounted through my eStores. Links to those can be found at my website. The discount codes are at the end of this blog post. Delve into the magic of a fairy tale or get into mischief with the six unruly Schofield children. And when the time comes for a book report, share the magic with someone else. Let them discover the adventure of a good book.
Oh, and while you're here, tell me your favorite part of back-to-school!
Discount Codes:
Charming Academy - GWHQ24H9
Finding Prince Charming - GMJZXT8C
Mischief, Mayhem and NOT Burning the House Down - 2N6Y2VM5
I love this time of year. It's not just the sales on notebooks, pens and other writing necessities. It's not even that the holidays are just around the corner. It's the enthusiasm for learning and quest for knowledge that I love. For a few short weeks,just about everyone feels that excitement. And then the first big homework assignment hits and the love wears a little thin.
Most students will have to write book reports and I wish they didn't dread them so. Instead of looking at it as another paper to write, look at it as another adventure to discover. There's a whole different world between the pages of a book. A world that can take you to the farthest reaches of your imagination if you'll let it. I wish that more kids understood the magic of a good book. I wish that our schools instead of focusing on the mechanics of reading (and yes, I do understand that those are important too) focused on the wonder of reading. Let's teach kids to see books as a passport to another place. Let's teach kids to see books as a way to escape the normal, everyday things into a world of the extraordinary. Let's teach kids to love books, not just tolerate them because they have to. There's something magical about walking into a bookstore. The smell of the paper and ink like a million good ideas wafts through the building, permeating the walls with mystery and wonder. There's something special about opening a book and reading the words off the page. The more you read, the farther from reality you seem to go. Suddenly you're not in your room anymore, you're on a pirate ship heading for buried treasure. Instead of sitting on the porch, you're sitting at the top of a tower watching for Prince Charming to come riding in on his white charger.
Books are magical, wonderful things. This school year, share the magic with your students, favorite teachers, or local librarian. Share it with a friend. For the month of August and into September, all of my books will be discounted through my eStores. Links to those can be found at my website. The discount codes are at the end of this blog post. Delve into the magic of a fairy tale or get into mischief with the six unruly Schofield children. And when the time comes for a book report, share the magic with someone else. Let them discover the adventure of a good book.
Oh, and while you're here, tell me your favorite part of back-to-school!
Discount Codes:
Charming Academy - GWHQ24H9
Finding Prince Charming - GMJZXT8C
Mischief, Mayhem and NOT Burning the House Down - 2N6Y2VM5
August 15, 2013
Sometimes I Feel Like a Mosquito
That's right. I do. Sometimes I feel like a mosquito. I sometimes wonder if I'm becoming your annoying friend who all she ever talks about is her books. I wonder if perhaps I've had too many Facebook posts dedicated to my books. Or perhaps I've written one blog plea too many. Sometimes, I feel like a literary mosquito. I'm not quite a horsefly, you all would have squashed me dead by now if I were. But I'm worry of becoming the constant buzzing that you start wanting to knock out with a baseball bat. Or a music stand, if you've been watching Jumanji lately.
But here's the thing. I'm kind of between a rock and a hard place. I don't yet have the funds to start investing in my own marketing. I see the cute bookmarks and the pens. I've heard about the book signings, the events where authors have sold hundreds of books and gained new adoring readership. But those things cost money and often they cost a LOT of money. Money that I simply do not have.
And so I exclusively rely on word-of-mouth because really that's the only free marketing strategy I have. It's difficult because I'm not much a salesman. I worry too much and far too often second guess myself. I worry that my books aren't really as good as I thought they were. I worry constantly about annoying you. In essence, I just worry.
But because it's the only option I have, I force myself to keep going. I put up pictures, posts, blogs, etc. hoping to get the attention of even just one more reader. And yet my sales stay woefully at zero.
And that's when I worry most that I'm annoying you more than I'm getting my message to you. You're starting to hear just the irritating buzzing of that mosquito that you can't quite locate. Please don't be annoyed. (And don't squish me with that rolled up newspaper!) I'm not trying to annoy you. I'm trying to get the word out. Unfortunately you're the only listeners I have right now. But there is something you can do to help. When you see my posts, do me a favor. Take a moment to read them. Tell your friends about them. "Like" and "Share" them if you so desire. Help me get the word out that my books are published! They are available! A whole new world of adventure is waiting for you to delve in. There are two books in my Charming Academy series and then the memoir of mischievous things I did as a child. Two of the three books are on Smashwords as eBooks if that is your preferred method of reading. And by this weekend (if I have to sit on the man to get it done!) the other book will also be out on Smashwords.
And if you have ideas for me about marketing my books, please share! I'm always looking for new ideas. If you have read any of my books and want to let others know how you felt (and you can be honest) go on to Goodreads and leave a review. Those reviews do help! I enjoy seeing the feedback I receive because it helps me become a better writer. I am only an author because I have those who have read my books. If you are thinking about reading one or all of them, I encourage you to jump right in! Find your favorite cozy chair and get in on the adventures.
And whatever you do, don't squish your annoying mosquito friend. :)
But here's the thing. I'm kind of between a rock and a hard place. I don't yet have the funds to start investing in my own marketing. I see the cute bookmarks and the pens. I've heard about the book signings, the events where authors have sold hundreds of books and gained new adoring readership. But those things cost money and often they cost a LOT of money. Money that I simply do not have.
And so I exclusively rely on word-of-mouth because really that's the only free marketing strategy I have. It's difficult because I'm not much a salesman. I worry too much and far too often second guess myself. I worry that my books aren't really as good as I thought they were. I worry constantly about annoying you. In essence, I just worry.
But because it's the only option I have, I force myself to keep going. I put up pictures, posts, blogs, etc. hoping to get the attention of even just one more reader. And yet my sales stay woefully at zero.
And that's when I worry most that I'm annoying you more than I'm getting my message to you. You're starting to hear just the irritating buzzing of that mosquito that you can't quite locate. Please don't be annoyed. (And don't squish me with that rolled up newspaper!) I'm not trying to annoy you. I'm trying to get the word out. Unfortunately you're the only listeners I have right now. But there is something you can do to help. When you see my posts, do me a favor. Take a moment to read them. Tell your friends about them. "Like" and "Share" them if you so desire. Help me get the word out that my books are published! They are available! A whole new world of adventure is waiting for you to delve in. There are two books in my Charming Academy series and then the memoir of mischievous things I did as a child. Two of the three books are on Smashwords as eBooks if that is your preferred method of reading. And by this weekend (if I have to sit on the man to get it done!) the other book will also be out on Smashwords.
And if you have ideas for me about marketing my books, please share! I'm always looking for new ideas. If you have read any of my books and want to let others know how you felt (and you can be honest) go on to Goodreads and leave a review. Those reviews do help! I enjoy seeing the feedback I receive because it helps me become a better writer. I am only an author because I have those who have read my books. If you are thinking about reading one or all of them, I encourage you to jump right in! Find your favorite cozy chair and get in on the adventures.
And whatever you do, don't squish your annoying mosquito friend. :)
July 29, 2013
Lessons of the Garden Party
I really enjoy old music. And when I say old, that usually means it was written before I was even a twinkle in my mother's eye. One of my favorites is Ricky Nelson's "Garden Party". The song talks about a concert he held that didn't go well at all. The song was his response to the criticism he received that night and afterwards. In the chorus, he teaches a valuable lesson:
Now sometimes we have to hit our heads into the brick wall to learn a lesson rather than learning it the easy way, like through song lyrics. Every now and again I feel like the queen of brick-wall-head-bashing. Let me give you an example.
When I was in high school I had a crush on this really great guy at church. (On the off chance that you are reading this, there are no hard feelings in the related story.) Just before he went on his mission, he made mention that he thought it was really neat that I was keeping my hair long and making it my "crowning glory" like the scriptures say. I'm sure you can guess what happened. For the next two years I avoided scissors like they were diseased. If I got split ends I trimmed only the very tips of my hair so it would stay long. As a result, when he came home my hair was so long that if I wasn't careful, I ended up sitting on it. My mother teased me that if I lived in New Zealand they would hire me as an elf extra for the Lord of the Rings movies. "That would be awesome!" I would reply with all the fervor of my teenaged heart. I had my ideas of what our first meeting would be like. Picture the sappiest, most awful romance you've ever seen and that's about what I envisioned. What happened was the total opposite. He came with his mom and the entire time looked at his shoes. I think he may have glanced up once in my direction. Now to be fair, when you're a missionary girls are strictly verboten, so I quickly forgave this unromantic first meeting. But subsequent meetings were much the same. And so a few months later after Halloween, when I had decided to be an elf for my dorm Halloween party, I decided to cut my hair. And not just a little bit. We're talking a twenty inch hack job. (And it really was a hack job since the hairdresser didn't listen to me tell her that my hair was wavy and unruly so needed to be cut at an angle, not a blunt cut straight across.) I continued on feeling smugly better about my little world and a little light-headed. I donated an eighteen-inch braid to Locks of Love and worked on finding a way to make my new 'do look decent. It was just long enough to pull back into a stubby ponytail which is what I did a week later for a regional Institute activity. To my surprise this young man was there. He saw me, smiled and then noticed that I was missing something.
"You cut your hair," he said, with the merest hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Oh, yeah, it was getting too long to do anything with," I lied (although it was too long and heavy to do a lot of the styles I liked so it wasn't a total lie). "Do you like it?"
A voice in my head chided, Really, Jessica? He tells you you have beautiful long hair, playing to your vanity perfectly. Then you chop it all off because he didn't ask you out and you ask if he likes it?
To his credit he smiled and said, "Yeah, it's cute."
While I bubbled over with girlish twitterpation because he said "cute" while referring to me, I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, "Liar!" In my bad haircut experiences, this was a solid number two. It would have been number one if not for the time when I was four and my best friend got her mother's sewing shears and told me we were going to play beauty shop. Never playing that game again!
But that night I learned the lesson "Garden Party" had been trying to teach me all those times it came on the radio. It had been silly of me to grow my hair out ridiculously long just because a guy said he liked it. Even if he was a really great guy! It had been even sillier to chop it off to spite him. The action hadn't hurt him at all. If anything it hurt me while I tried to figure out how to disguise the fact that the hairdresser hadn't known what she was doing. If I was going to grow it out, it should have been purely because I wanted to. If I was going to cut it, it should have been purely because I wanted to and I should have had it done in a way that I would truly like.
As a writer, I relearn this lesson a lot. I will never write a book that pleases everyone who reads it. I will always make mistakes. Despite reading and rereading and watching with an eagle eye, there will be typos and errors in my books. I had to giggle to myself the other night as I was reading The Titan's Curse to my son and saw a typo and realized that the pegasus from the previous book had suddenly changed gender. It was slightly gratifying to know that even a literary giant like Rick Riordan sometimes goofs.
When I submitted Finding Prince Charming to the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest (because I'm a glutton for punishment), I asked a group of other authors to critique my pitch, hoping to get it fine-tuned and good enough to at least make the first round. The very first comment was an ad for Allegra allergy medication. Then it was a rampage on using the name Allegra. While a few well-meaning authors gave useful advice about my wording and ways to really make it stand out as an awesome pitch, 75% of the comments were about Allegra's name and the fact that I should change it or everyone would associate her with allergy medication. When I tried to point out that my readers thus far had not been confused, one commenter was so rude as to point out that they didn't count. The general audience would have difficulty separating the character from the medicine. Now, here's my problem with that. If the general audience would really have had this difficulty then surely at least one of my readers would have said, "Hey, isn't Allegra a medication?" I'm not best-selling by any stretch of the imagination, but I've reached a wide enough audience that I'm no longer just reaching my friends and family. Someone out there would have said something, right?
For a split second I thought about changing her name. It would be a lot of work because I'd have to mass edit not one manuscript but two since I had already introduced her in Charming Academy. I would also have to come up with some kind of explanation for why a main character's name had suddenly changed for my existing readership. I didn't know what I would replace it with because Allegra is kind of a special character. You see, usually when I'm writing, I develop the character's personality before I ever choose a name. I have an old, worn-out baby book and I search for a name that has meaning fitting to the character. But Allegra was the other way around. She came to me first as a name and then with all her personality traits. And Allegra fits her beautifully. She's lively, spunky and adventurous. In all of my writing she is one of two characters who came to me that way. The other is Lucian, her brother.
So hoping for a little reassurance, and some vindication, I went to my mom's house and before I even said hello asked, "Mom, when you hear 'Allegra', what do you think of?"
"Your books?" Mom replied. Loved that little bit of flattery, by the way.
"What else."
"It's a musical term isn't it?"
"Exactly!"
My brother heard me and came downstairs to be asked the same question.
"It sounds like allegro, the musical term for fast and spirited."
"Thank you!"
I told them my frustrations and when I stopped to breathe again my mother, wise woman that she is, asked, "Jessica, do you like her name?"
"I love her name! It fits her perfectly and she actually came with a name. I don't have a lot of characters who do that."
"Then why do you care what anyone else thinks? If you think her name should be Allegra, then leave it. It's a lovely name."
And once again the lesson of "Garden Party" was learned. Now as I'm working on the third book, I'm bracing myself for people to be disappointed. There will be elements that I'm sure will stir up some kind of discontent. The fairy tales I write aren't meant to be carbon copies of the ones you and I grew up reading. There will be differences, sometimes big ones. There will be things that make you think and question. My stories are just that, mine. And so I'm sticking with Ricky on this one.
But it's all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see you can't please ev'ryone so
You got to please yourself
(More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/r/ri...)
Now sometimes we have to hit our heads into the brick wall to learn a lesson rather than learning it the easy way, like through song lyrics. Every now and again I feel like the queen of brick-wall-head-bashing. Let me give you an example.
When I was in high school I had a crush on this really great guy at church. (On the off chance that you are reading this, there are no hard feelings in the related story.) Just before he went on his mission, he made mention that he thought it was really neat that I was keeping my hair long and making it my "crowning glory" like the scriptures say. I'm sure you can guess what happened. For the next two years I avoided scissors like they were diseased. If I got split ends I trimmed only the very tips of my hair so it would stay long. As a result, when he came home my hair was so long that if I wasn't careful, I ended up sitting on it. My mother teased me that if I lived in New Zealand they would hire me as an elf extra for the Lord of the Rings movies. "That would be awesome!" I would reply with all the fervor of my teenaged heart. I had my ideas of what our first meeting would be like. Picture the sappiest, most awful romance you've ever seen and that's about what I envisioned. What happened was the total opposite. He came with his mom and the entire time looked at his shoes. I think he may have glanced up once in my direction. Now to be fair, when you're a missionary girls are strictly verboten, so I quickly forgave this unromantic first meeting. But subsequent meetings were much the same. And so a few months later after Halloween, when I had decided to be an elf for my dorm Halloween party, I decided to cut my hair. And not just a little bit. We're talking a twenty inch hack job. (And it really was a hack job since the hairdresser didn't listen to me tell her that my hair was wavy and unruly so needed to be cut at an angle, not a blunt cut straight across.) I continued on feeling smugly better about my little world and a little light-headed. I donated an eighteen-inch braid to Locks of Love and worked on finding a way to make my new 'do look decent. It was just long enough to pull back into a stubby ponytail which is what I did a week later for a regional Institute activity. To my surprise this young man was there. He saw me, smiled and then noticed that I was missing something.
"You cut your hair," he said, with the merest hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Oh, yeah, it was getting too long to do anything with," I lied (although it was too long and heavy to do a lot of the styles I liked so it wasn't a total lie). "Do you like it?"
A voice in my head chided, Really, Jessica? He tells you you have beautiful long hair, playing to your vanity perfectly. Then you chop it all off because he didn't ask you out and you ask if he likes it?
To his credit he smiled and said, "Yeah, it's cute."
While I bubbled over with girlish twitterpation because he said "cute" while referring to me, I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, "Liar!" In my bad haircut experiences, this was a solid number two. It would have been number one if not for the time when I was four and my best friend got her mother's sewing shears and told me we were going to play beauty shop. Never playing that game again!
But that night I learned the lesson "Garden Party" had been trying to teach me all those times it came on the radio. It had been silly of me to grow my hair out ridiculously long just because a guy said he liked it. Even if he was a really great guy! It had been even sillier to chop it off to spite him. The action hadn't hurt him at all. If anything it hurt me while I tried to figure out how to disguise the fact that the hairdresser hadn't known what she was doing. If I was going to grow it out, it should have been purely because I wanted to. If I was going to cut it, it should have been purely because I wanted to and I should have had it done in a way that I would truly like.
As a writer, I relearn this lesson a lot. I will never write a book that pleases everyone who reads it. I will always make mistakes. Despite reading and rereading and watching with an eagle eye, there will be typos and errors in my books. I had to giggle to myself the other night as I was reading The Titan's Curse to my son and saw a typo and realized that the pegasus from the previous book had suddenly changed gender. It was slightly gratifying to know that even a literary giant like Rick Riordan sometimes goofs.
When I submitted Finding Prince Charming to the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest (because I'm a glutton for punishment), I asked a group of other authors to critique my pitch, hoping to get it fine-tuned and good enough to at least make the first round. The very first comment was an ad for Allegra allergy medication. Then it was a rampage on using the name Allegra. While a few well-meaning authors gave useful advice about my wording and ways to really make it stand out as an awesome pitch, 75% of the comments were about Allegra's name and the fact that I should change it or everyone would associate her with allergy medication. When I tried to point out that my readers thus far had not been confused, one commenter was so rude as to point out that they didn't count. The general audience would have difficulty separating the character from the medicine. Now, here's my problem with that. If the general audience would really have had this difficulty then surely at least one of my readers would have said, "Hey, isn't Allegra a medication?" I'm not best-selling by any stretch of the imagination, but I've reached a wide enough audience that I'm no longer just reaching my friends and family. Someone out there would have said something, right?
For a split second I thought about changing her name. It would be a lot of work because I'd have to mass edit not one manuscript but two since I had already introduced her in Charming Academy. I would also have to come up with some kind of explanation for why a main character's name had suddenly changed for my existing readership. I didn't know what I would replace it with because Allegra is kind of a special character. You see, usually when I'm writing, I develop the character's personality before I ever choose a name. I have an old, worn-out baby book and I search for a name that has meaning fitting to the character. But Allegra was the other way around. She came to me first as a name and then with all her personality traits. And Allegra fits her beautifully. She's lively, spunky and adventurous. In all of my writing she is one of two characters who came to me that way. The other is Lucian, her brother.
So hoping for a little reassurance, and some vindication, I went to my mom's house and before I even said hello asked, "Mom, when you hear 'Allegra', what do you think of?"
"Your books?" Mom replied. Loved that little bit of flattery, by the way.
"What else."
"It's a musical term isn't it?"
"Exactly!"
My brother heard me and came downstairs to be asked the same question.
"It sounds like allegro, the musical term for fast and spirited."
"Thank you!"
I told them my frustrations and when I stopped to breathe again my mother, wise woman that she is, asked, "Jessica, do you like her name?"
"I love her name! It fits her perfectly and she actually came with a name. I don't have a lot of characters who do that."
"Then why do you care what anyone else thinks? If you think her name should be Allegra, then leave it. It's a lovely name."
And once again the lesson of "Garden Party" was learned. Now as I'm working on the third book, I'm bracing myself for people to be disappointed. There will be elements that I'm sure will stir up some kind of discontent. The fairy tales I write aren't meant to be carbon copies of the ones you and I grew up reading. There will be differences, sometimes big ones. There will be things that make you think and question. My stories are just that, mine. And so I'm sticking with Ricky on this one.
But it's all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see you can't please ev'ryone so
You got to please yourself.
Lessons of the Garden Party
I really enjoy old music. And when I say old, that usually means it was written before I was even a twinkle in my mother's eye. One of my favorites is Ricky Nelson's "Garden Party". The song talks about a concert he held that didn't go well at all. The song was his response to the criticism he received that night and afterwards. In the chorus, he teaches a valuable lesson:
Now sometimes we have to hit our heads into the brick wall to learn a lesson rather than learning it the easy way, like through song lyrics. Every now and again I feel like the queen of brick-wall-head-bashing. Let me give you an example.
When I was in high school I had a crush on this really great guy at church. (On the off chance that you are reading this, there are no hard feelings in the related story.) Just before he went on his mission, he made mention that he thought it was really neat that I was keeping my hair long and making it my "crowning glory" like the scriptures say. I'm sure you can guess what happened. For the next two years I avoided scissors like they were diseased. If I got split ends I trimmed only the very tips of my hair so it would stay long. As a result, when he came home my hair was so long that if I wasn't careful, I ended up sitting on it. My mother teased me that if I lived in New Zealand they would hire me as an elf extra for the Lord of the Rings movies. "That would be awesome!" I would reply with all the fervor of my teenaged heart. I had my ideas of what our first meeting would be like. Picture the sappiest, most awful romance you've ever seen and that's about what I envisioned. What happened was the total opposite. He came with his mom and the entire time looked at his shoes. I think he may have glanced up once in my direction. Now to be fair, when you're a missionary girls are strictly verboten, so I quickly forgave this unromantic first meeting. But subsequent meetings were much the same. And so a few months later after Halloween, when I had decided to be an elf for my dorm Halloween party, I decided to cut my hair. And not just a little bit. We're talking a twenty inch hack job. (And it really was a hack job since the hairdresser didn't listen to me tell her that my hair was wavy and unruly so needed to be cut at an angle, not a blunt cut straight across.) I continued on feeling smugly better about my little world and a little light-headed. I donated an eighteen-inch braid to Locks of Love and worked on finding a way to make my new 'do look decent. It was just long enough to pull back into a stubby ponytail which is what I did a week later for a regional Institute activity. To my surprise this young man was there. He saw me, smiled and then noticed that I was missing something.
"You cut your hair," he said, with the merest hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Oh, yeah, it was getting too long to do anything with," I lied (although it was too long and heavy to do a lot of the styles I liked so it wasn't a total lie). "Do you like it?"
A voice in my head chided, Really, Jessica? He tells you you have beautiful long hair, playing to your vanity perfectly. Then you chop it all off because he didn't ask you out and you ask if he likes it?
To his credit he smiled and said, "Yeah, it's cute."
While I bubbled over with girlish twitterpation because he said "cute" while referring to me, I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, "Liar!" In my bad haircut experiences, this was a solid number two. It would have been number one if not for the time when I was four and my best friend got her mother's sewing shears and told me we were going to play beauty shop. Never playing that game again!
But that night I learned the lesson "Garden Party" had been trying to teach me all those times it came on the radio. It had been silly of me to grow my hair out ridiculously long just because a guy said he liked it. Even if he was a really great guy! It had been even sillier to chop it off to spite him. The action hadn't hurt him at all. If anything it hurt me while I tried to figure out how to disguise the fact that the hairdresser hadn't known what she was doing. If I was going to grow it out, it should have been purely because I wanted to. If I was going to cut it, it should have been purely because I wanted to and I should have had it done in a way that I would truly like.
As a writer, I relearn this lesson a lot. I will never write a book that pleases everyone who reads it. I will always make mistakes. Despite reading and rereading and watching with an eagle eye, there will be typos and errors in my books. I had to giggle to myself the other night as I was reading The Titan's Curse to my son and saw a typo and realized that the pegasus from the previous book had suddenly changed gender. It was slightly gratifying to know that even a literary giant like Rick Riordan sometimes goofs.
When I submitted Finding Prince Charming to the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest (because I'm a glutton for punishment), I asked a group of other authors to critique my pitch, hoping to get it fine-tuned and good enough to at least make the first round. The very first comment was an ad for Allegra allergy medication. Then it was a rampage on using the name Allegra. While a few well-meaning authors gave useful advice about my wording and ways to really make it stand out as an awesome pitch, 75% of the comments were about Allegra's name and the fact that I should change it or everyone would associate her with allergy medication. When I tried to point out that my readers thus far had not been confused, one commenter was so rude as to point out that they didn't count. The general audience would have difficulty separating the character from the medicine. Now, here's my problem with that. If the general audience would really have had this difficulty then surely at least one of my readers would have said, "Hey, isn't Allegra a medication?" I'm not best-selling by any stretch of the imagination, but I've reached a wide enough audience that I'm no longer just reaching my friends and family. Someone out there would have said something, right?
For a split second I thought about changing her name. It would be a lot of work because I'd have to mass edit not one manuscript but two since I had already introduced her in Charming Academy. I would also have to come up with some kind of explanation for why a main character's name had suddenly changed for my existing readership. I didn't know what I would replace it with because Allegra is kind of a special character. You see, usually when I'm writing, I develop the character's personality before I ever choose a name. I have an old, worn-out baby book and I search for a name that has meaning fitting to the character. But Allegra was the other way around. She came to me first as a name and then with all her personality traits. And Allegra fits her beautifully. She's lively, spunky and adventurous. In all of my writing she is one of two characters who came to me that way. The other is Lucian, her brother.
So hoping for a little reassurance, and some vindication, I went to my mom's house and before I even said hello asked, "Mom, when you hear 'Allegra', what do you think of?"
"Your books?" Mom replied. Loved that little bit of flattery, by the way.
"What else."
"It's a musical term isn't it?"
"Exactly!"
My brother heard me and came downstairs to be asked the same question.
"It sounds like allegro, the musical term for fast and spirited."
"Thank you!"
I told them my frustrations and when I stopped to breathe again my mother, wise woman that she is, asked, "Jessica, do you like her name?"
"I love her name! It fits her perfectly and she actually came with a name. I don't have a lot of characters who do that."
"Then why do you care what anyone else thinks? If you think her name should be Allegra, then leave it. It's a lovely name."
And once again the lesson of "Garden Party" was learned. Now as I'm working on the third book, I'm bracing myself for people to be disappointed. There will be elements that I'm sure will stir up some kind of discontent. The fairy tales I write aren't meant to be carbon copies of the ones you and I grew up reading. There will be differences, sometimes big ones. There will be things that make you think and question. My stories are just that, mine. And so I'm sticking with Ricky on this one.
But it's all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see you can't please ev'ryone so
You got to please yourself
(More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/r/ri...)
Now sometimes we have to hit our heads into the brick wall to learn a lesson rather than learning it the easy way, like through song lyrics. Every now and again I feel like the queen of brick-wall-head-bashing. Let me give you an example.
When I was in high school I had a crush on this really great guy at church. (On the off chance that you are reading this, there are no hard feelings in the related story.) Just before he went on his mission, he made mention that he thought it was really neat that I was keeping my hair long and making it my "crowning glory" like the scriptures say. I'm sure you can guess what happened. For the next two years I avoided scissors like they were diseased. If I got split ends I trimmed only the very tips of my hair so it would stay long. As a result, when he came home my hair was so long that if I wasn't careful, I ended up sitting on it. My mother teased me that if I lived in New Zealand they would hire me as an elf extra for the Lord of the Rings movies. "That would be awesome!" I would reply with all the fervor of my teenaged heart. I had my ideas of what our first meeting would be like. Picture the sappiest, most awful romance you've ever seen and that's about what I envisioned. What happened was the total opposite. He came with his mom and the entire time looked at his shoes. I think he may have glanced up once in my direction. Now to be fair, when you're a missionary girls are strictly verboten, so I quickly forgave this unromantic first meeting. But subsequent meetings were much the same. And so a few months later after Halloween, when I had decided to be an elf for my dorm Halloween party, I decided to cut my hair. And not just a little bit. We're talking a twenty inch hack job. (And it really was a hack job since the hairdresser didn't listen to me tell her that my hair was wavy and unruly so needed to be cut at an angle, not a blunt cut straight across.) I continued on feeling smugly better about my little world and a little light-headed. I donated an eighteen-inch braid to Locks of Love and worked on finding a way to make my new 'do look decent. It was just long enough to pull back into a stubby ponytail which is what I did a week later for a regional Institute activity. To my surprise this young man was there. He saw me, smiled and then noticed that I was missing something.
"You cut your hair," he said, with the merest hint of disappointment in his voice.
"Oh, yeah, it was getting too long to do anything with," I lied (although it was too long and heavy to do a lot of the styles I liked so it wasn't a total lie). "Do you like it?"
A voice in my head chided, Really, Jessica? He tells you you have beautiful long hair, playing to your vanity perfectly. Then you chop it all off because he didn't ask you out and you ask if he likes it?
To his credit he smiled and said, "Yeah, it's cute."
While I bubbled over with girlish twitterpation because he said "cute" while referring to me, I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, "Liar!" In my bad haircut experiences, this was a solid number two. It would have been number one if not for the time when I was four and my best friend got her mother's sewing shears and told me we were going to play beauty shop. Never playing that game again!
But that night I learned the lesson "Garden Party" had been trying to teach me all those times it came on the radio. It had been silly of me to grow my hair out ridiculously long just because a guy said he liked it. Even if he was a really great guy! It had been even sillier to chop it off to spite him. The action hadn't hurt him at all. If anything it hurt me while I tried to figure out how to disguise the fact that the hairdresser hadn't known what she was doing. If I was going to grow it out, it should have been purely because I wanted to. If I was going to cut it, it should have been purely because I wanted to and I should have had it done in a way that I would truly like.
As a writer, I relearn this lesson a lot. I will never write a book that pleases everyone who reads it. I will always make mistakes. Despite reading and rereading and watching with an eagle eye, there will be typos and errors in my books. I had to giggle to myself the other night as I was reading The Titan's Curse to my son and saw a typo and realized that the pegasus from the previous book had suddenly changed gender. It was slightly gratifying to know that even a literary giant like Rick Riordan sometimes goofs.
When I submitted Finding Prince Charming to the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest (because I'm a glutton for punishment), I asked a group of other authors to critique my pitch, hoping to get it fine-tuned and good enough to at least make the first round. The very first comment was an ad for Allegra allergy medication. Then it was a rampage on using the name Allegra. While a few well-meaning authors gave useful advice about my wording and ways to really make it stand out as an awesome pitch, 75% of the comments were about Allegra's name and the fact that I should change it or everyone would associate her with allergy medication. When I tried to point out that my readers thus far had not been confused, one commenter was so rude as to point out that they didn't count. The general audience would have difficulty separating the character from the medicine. Now, here's my problem with that. If the general audience would really have had this difficulty then surely at least one of my readers would have said, "Hey, isn't Allegra a medication?" I'm not best-selling by any stretch of the imagination, but I've reached a wide enough audience that I'm no longer just reaching my friends and family. Someone out there would have said something, right?
For a split second I thought about changing her name. It would be a lot of work because I'd have to mass edit not one manuscript but two since I had already introduced her in Charming Academy. I would also have to come up with some kind of explanation for why a main character's name had suddenly changed for my existing readership. I didn't know what I would replace it with because Allegra is kind of a special character. You see, usually when I'm writing, I develop the character's personality before I ever choose a name. I have an old, worn-out baby book and I search for a name that has meaning fitting to the character. But Allegra was the other way around. She came to me first as a name and then with all her personality traits. And Allegra fits her beautifully. She's lively, spunky and adventurous. In all of my writing she is one of two characters who came to me that way. The other is Lucian, her brother.
So hoping for a little reassurance, and some vindication, I went to my mom's house and before I even said hello asked, "Mom, when you hear 'Allegra', what do you think of?"
"Your books?" Mom replied. Loved that little bit of flattery, by the way.
"What else."
"It's a musical term isn't it?"
"Exactly!"
My brother heard me and came downstairs to be asked the same question.
"It sounds like allegro, the musical term for fast and spirited."
"Thank you!"
I told them my frustrations and when I stopped to breathe again my mother, wise woman that she is, asked, "Jessica, do you like her name?"
"I love her name! It fits her perfectly and she actually came with a name. I don't have a lot of characters who do that."
"Then why do you care what anyone else thinks? If you think her name should be Allegra, then leave it. It's a lovely name."
And once again the lesson of "Garden Party" was learned. Now as I'm working on the third book, I'm bracing myself for people to be disappointed. There will be elements that I'm sure will stir up some kind of discontent. The fairy tales I write aren't meant to be carbon copies of the ones you and I grew up reading. There will be differences, sometimes big ones. There will be things that make you think and question. My stories are just that, mine. And so I'm sticking with Ricky on this one.
But it's all right now
I learned my lesson well
You see you can't please ev'ryone so
You got to please yourself.
July 22, 2013
Plot Reveal!!!
Hello again my happy readers! I've decided to do something which would normally not do. I am going to reveal the plot of my November NaNoWriMo novel. Dun-du-du-dun!
"Why?" you may be asking.
Well, because I'm all caught up on my Camp word goal (many, many thanks to my sweet hubby for giving me an incredible amount of time to work in Saturday!) but I'm still short my fundraising goal. I need your help and so I'm giving a little carrot under your nose, so to speak. :)
One of the donor goodies for this fundraiser is that ALL donors will get to name a character in my November novel. And up 'til now I've been keeping the plotline under my hat. I've been letting it simmer and thicken, allowing the juices to run together and blend and I am now ready to let you in on the secret.
Drum roll please!
This November I will be writing a story all about writing for NaNoWriMo. It will kind of be a story in a story with the writer's story being sprinkled in along with the things going on in her life. There will be nefarious villians, dashing heroes, writer's block, screaming children, moments of glorious inspiration, the ever-patient writer's husband, computer crashes, an adorable Corgi and all those other things that make NaNoing so much fun!
And when this story is finished, I will release it on CreateSpace and part of the proceeds will go to NaNoWriMo. The other part will go into the "Jessica wants a Corgi puppy!" fund. Call me selfish, but after years of waiting to be in a stable financial situation I think I've earned a puppy. :)
There are many characters that will need naming from the main characters to the minor characters in the author's little world. I will need villians and heroes , and of course the adorable Corgi needs a name too! That is where you come in. You can have a piece if this story. When you show it to your friends, your neighbors, the mechanic, whoever you meet you can point to that name and say, "See that character? I named him/her!" You will also have the fuzzy feel-good feeling of knowing that your support is helping provide a fun and engaging literacy program to people all over the world.
So take a look into your budget, go to www.stayclassy.org/JessicaLElliott, break out that dusty baby name book and make a difference!
Don't forget the other goodies for the donors:
~~All donors will be entered into a drawing for one of three original illustrations (by me) which will be sent to you by mail. There will be one illustration for each of the books that are currently out: Charming Academy, Finding Prince Charming and Mischief, Mayhem and NOT Burning the House Down. There will be three winners, one for each of the illustrations.
~~All donors will get my heartfelt thanks and the knowledge that I will have a fabulous birthday knowing that together, we've made a difference! :)
~~The highest donation will earn a cameo appearance in the next "Charming Academy" book which is progress right now!
"Why?" you may be asking.
Well, because I'm all caught up on my Camp word goal (many, many thanks to my sweet hubby for giving me an incredible amount of time to work in Saturday!) but I'm still short my fundraising goal. I need your help and so I'm giving a little carrot under your nose, so to speak. :)
One of the donor goodies for this fundraiser is that ALL donors will get to name a character in my November novel. And up 'til now I've been keeping the plotline under my hat. I've been letting it simmer and thicken, allowing the juices to run together and blend and I am now ready to let you in on the secret.
Drum roll please!
This November I will be writing a story all about writing for NaNoWriMo. It will kind of be a story in a story with the writer's story being sprinkled in along with the things going on in her life. There will be nefarious villians, dashing heroes, writer's block, screaming children, moments of glorious inspiration, the ever-patient writer's husband, computer crashes, an adorable Corgi and all those other things that make NaNoing so much fun!
And when this story is finished, I will release it on CreateSpace and part of the proceeds will go to NaNoWriMo. The other part will go into the "Jessica wants a Corgi puppy!" fund. Call me selfish, but after years of waiting to be in a stable financial situation I think I've earned a puppy. :)
There are many characters that will need naming from the main characters to the minor characters in the author's little world. I will need villians and heroes , and of course the adorable Corgi needs a name too! That is where you come in. You can have a piece if this story. When you show it to your friends, your neighbors, the mechanic, whoever you meet you can point to that name and say, "See that character? I named him/her!" You will also have the fuzzy feel-good feeling of knowing that your support is helping provide a fun and engaging literacy program to people all over the world.
So take a look into your budget, go to www.stayclassy.org/JessicaLElliott, break out that dusty baby name book and make a difference!
Don't forget the other goodies for the donors:
~~All donors will be entered into a drawing for one of three original illustrations (by me) which will be sent to you by mail. There will be one illustration for each of the books that are currently out: Charming Academy, Finding Prince Charming and Mischief, Mayhem and NOT Burning the House Down. There will be three winners, one for each of the illustrations.
~~All donors will get my heartfelt thanks and the knowledge that I will have a fabulous birthday knowing that together, we've made a difference! :)
~~The highest donation will earn a cameo appearance in the next "Charming Academy" book which is progress right now!
July 17, 2013
A Love Story That Never Ends
When I was sixteen I told my mother that I was going to marry someone tall, dark and handsome. He was going to have luscious, brown hair and warm, brown eyes like melted chocolate. He had to be able to sing and would have a great sense of humor and be a hopeless romantic, just like me. I'm sure God was watching from Heaven just giggling at me. "Dream on, my daughter," I'm sure he said.
Fast forward a few years and I was writing to a young man on his mission who pretty well fit my dream list. But I also met a charming young man who was almost the polar opposite of what I "wanted" in a young man, with some exceptions. He was shorter than I by a good inch (more if I was wearing heels), had sandy blond hair and stunning blue eyes. He had the voice of an angel and appreciated my humor. Since I'm not the wittiest of people, this won him lots of brownie points. But he was also two years my junior meaning that he was preparing to leave for a mission. One weekend while I was home I told my mother of this dreamy young man and said, "Mom, if he were a return missionary instead of getting ready to leave, I would marry him and my missionary would get a "Dear John!" But alas, it seemed that it would never be. Surely I wouldn't be single for another two years! Many of my friends were already either engaged or married, including several who were younger than I was. Once again, God laughed to Himself and said, "Just wait and see, my dear."
The young man left on his mission with me promising to write him faithfully. I'd convinced myself (almost) that he was just like a little brother to me and that he couldn't possibly see me as anything more than a big sister. For a long while I wrote and then my former missionary came home and we began to date, even got engaged. So my poor new missionary got a "Dear John" which about broke my heart. I tried to convince myself that since we had never dated before his mission and we were more like brother and sister anyway, that I shouldn't feel bad. But I felt as though I were admitting to cheating on him.
In a long story short, things didn't work out with tall, dark and handsome. Tired of my moping, my mother forced me to work at summer camp. While there I prayed to my Heavenly Father and said, "Father, boys are stupid and I'm never going to get married. All of my friends are now married and starting their families and I will be single forever. So, I've decided to go on a mission. I will go wherever thou would have me to go and serve whomever thou would have me serve."
And God smiled and chuckled to Himself once again. I'm sure He laughs at me a LOT! He said, "Oh my daughter, be patient. I've got a plan for you."
So I began preparing for a mission. I saved all the money I earned from summer camp and got ready for another semester of substitute teaching. If I worked enough I could have enough saved to pay for my mission and leave money enough behind for my parents to pay my student loans while I was away. It was going along pretty well too. I had saved enough for my mission by the beginning of August and was preparing to save for the student loans.
Then something unexpected happened. A slot opened up in a Wood Badge course my dad was staffing on and I was invited to participate. Since the spot was already paid for, I agreed. But my Scout physical would expire before the beginning of the course and I went in to my doctor for a routine physical. They discovered a growth in my abdomen. An ultrasound, visit to the gynecologist, and (because I had no insurance) all my savings later they discovered a cyst on one of my ovaries. I would need surgery. I tearfully postponed my plans of putting papers in for a mission in January to the following May, hoping to recoup my lost savings. The doctor told me of a program that helped underinsured and uninsured patients receive the hospital care they needed and thankfully I qualified. But I was still woefully short the amount I needed for my mission.
In mid-August, my young missionary friend returned from his mission and came to Derby for Stake Conference. I was excited to see him again as well as other friends I had left at school. I told them of my plans to go on a mission and how the medical bills that ensued while trying to find out what was wrong had eaten at my savings. My missionary was quiet as I told them about my break-up (though I had written to him about it as well as my plan to go on a mission) and future plans. "Boys are stupid and I'm never getting married," I told them, but I wasn't quite so sure about it having seen my friend again. Suddenly a mission seemed so distant.
In September, I underwent surgery to remove the cyst and that weekend, my friends came down for a singles activity. They came several hours early so that they could spend time with me. The sweet young man wouldn't let me get up for anything, fetching my water glass when I said I was thirsty, getting me a pillow that had fallen from the couch, anything to keep me comfortable and still. I stubbornly held out that I was going to the activity, but not long after arriving, my mother wisely made me come back home.
The next day, this wonderful young man called me and left the funniest message on my cell phone. "Um, hi Jessica, um. I just, well, um, I had a couple of, uh, questions for you. Could you, um, call me? Please?" I giggled to myself and wondered what could possibly have made him so tongue-tied. I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. I called him back only to miss him too, so I left a message explaining that I was working the next day, but he could call me anytime after 3:15.
At 3:20 the next day, "Open Arms" by Journey started playing on my cell phone. He had called me back! I answered the phone and the following conversation ensued:
"Hi Jessica, I got your message."
"Yeah, you said you had a couple of questions for me. I'm sorry I missed your call. I forgot to take my phone off silent after church."
"Oh, that's okay. Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah, I walk like an old grandma right now, but I'm not in much pain so it's okay."
"I'm glad you're feeling better. Um, I was going to ask if you'd heard anything about the next young single adult activity."
"No, I really haven't gotten any information on it yet. I think they're still planning it. Why?"
"Oh, we just wondered if the Emporia singles were being invited."
"I think so, but I don't know. Sorry I can't help more."
"That's okay."
Pause
"Was there anything else you needed?"
"Well, yeah, um, I was wondering if you'redoinganythingFridaynight."
I tried not to giggle aloud. "No, I'm free Friday night."
"Would you like to have, um, dinner with me? And maybe watch a movie?"
My heart soared and I said, "That would be great! If you want, we could watch a movie at my house. That way we can talk and no one will get mad at us."
"Okay, yeah, that would be great. So, I'll come down on Friday. What time works for you?"
"You're the one driving, so whatever time is best for you works for me. I am working Friday, but school's out at 3:15."
"Would 4:00 work then?"
"That would be great."
"Okay, and I'll let you pick where we go to dinner. I don't know any of the restaurants there."
"I know a great little Chinese place. Do you like Chinese?"
"Yeah, anything's fine with me. I've got to go, but I'll see you on Friday."
"See you then."
I hung up and couldn't get the grin off my face for the rest of the day. The whole mission idea was getting further from my mind again and Friday seemed to be forever away.
The date came and I had a wonderful time. We talked and laughed and reminisced about school. We talked about our goals and dreams. It was a magical night and I'm afraid we didn't pay a whole lot of attention to "Night At the Museum" as we were far too busy talking. He stayed until after 10:00 and my mom reminded him, "You've got an hour-and-a-half drive. You best get heading home."
"Yeah," he agreed reluctantly. I walked outside with him, gave him a hug and waved as he drove away. I was all smiles as I came inside and closed the door. With a happy sigh I looked at my mother and said, "Mom, I don't think I'm going on my mission yet."
Mom laughed and said, "No dear, I don't think so."
We continued to date and in December Mom dropped me off in Emporia for a singles activity and a friend's Christmas party. My then-boyfriend had told me that we would go on a date before he took me back home the next day. I was so excited I could hardly wait, but after a fitful night's sleep, Saturday came and we went to Applebee's for lunch before then going to the park. It was a nice day, though very windy. I found myself wishing I'd pulled it back into a ponytail. What followed was the most silent forty-five minutes of my life! We just walked and my normally chatty boyfriend didn't say a word. Finally we got back around to where the car was and I was having a hard time not showing my disappointment. I had been sure that something special was going to happen, and nothing had. Then he said, "Can we go back to where we were a minute ago?"
"Sure."
We walked to a little picnic area overlooking the pond. "I have an early Christmas present for you," he said.
I beamed and accepted a small, wrapped box. "What's this?"
"Open it," he said nervously.
I slowly unwrapped it. I'm slow anyway, but after making me walk around for forty-five minutes in the wind, I was getting a little payback. When the wrapping was finally off I was holding a little jewelry box in my hand. I glanced at him before looking back down and removing the lid. Inside was a heart-shaped pendant with a tiny crystal and the words written in Sharpie, "Will you marry me?" To his credit, he also said it aloud. I gasped and cried, "Yes!" and then followed our very first kiss.
On July 17, 2009 we were married and now four years later he is still the love of my life and I am grateful that God laughed at me so many times for being impatient. Now I have the most wonderful husband in the world and we have two beautiful children. I look forward to what the next four years and beyond will bring into our life together.
And so without any further ado, Happy Anniversary, Jonathan. I love you!
Fast forward a few years and I was writing to a young man on his mission who pretty well fit my dream list. But I also met a charming young man who was almost the polar opposite of what I "wanted" in a young man, with some exceptions. He was shorter than I by a good inch (more if I was wearing heels), had sandy blond hair and stunning blue eyes. He had the voice of an angel and appreciated my humor. Since I'm not the wittiest of people, this won him lots of brownie points. But he was also two years my junior meaning that he was preparing to leave for a mission. One weekend while I was home I told my mother of this dreamy young man and said, "Mom, if he were a return missionary instead of getting ready to leave, I would marry him and my missionary would get a "Dear John!" But alas, it seemed that it would never be. Surely I wouldn't be single for another two years! Many of my friends were already either engaged or married, including several who were younger than I was. Once again, God laughed to Himself and said, "Just wait and see, my dear."
The young man left on his mission with me promising to write him faithfully. I'd convinced myself (almost) that he was just like a little brother to me and that he couldn't possibly see me as anything more than a big sister. For a long while I wrote and then my former missionary came home and we began to date, even got engaged. So my poor new missionary got a "Dear John" which about broke my heart. I tried to convince myself that since we had never dated before his mission and we were more like brother and sister anyway, that I shouldn't feel bad. But I felt as though I were admitting to cheating on him.
In a long story short, things didn't work out with tall, dark and handsome. Tired of my moping, my mother forced me to work at summer camp. While there I prayed to my Heavenly Father and said, "Father, boys are stupid and I'm never going to get married. All of my friends are now married and starting their families and I will be single forever. So, I've decided to go on a mission. I will go wherever thou would have me to go and serve whomever thou would have me serve."
And God smiled and chuckled to Himself once again. I'm sure He laughs at me a LOT! He said, "Oh my daughter, be patient. I've got a plan for you."
So I began preparing for a mission. I saved all the money I earned from summer camp and got ready for another semester of substitute teaching. If I worked enough I could have enough saved to pay for my mission and leave money enough behind for my parents to pay my student loans while I was away. It was going along pretty well too. I had saved enough for my mission by the beginning of August and was preparing to save for the student loans.
Then something unexpected happened. A slot opened up in a Wood Badge course my dad was staffing on and I was invited to participate. Since the spot was already paid for, I agreed. But my Scout physical would expire before the beginning of the course and I went in to my doctor for a routine physical. They discovered a growth in my abdomen. An ultrasound, visit to the gynecologist, and (because I had no insurance) all my savings later they discovered a cyst on one of my ovaries. I would need surgery. I tearfully postponed my plans of putting papers in for a mission in January to the following May, hoping to recoup my lost savings. The doctor told me of a program that helped underinsured and uninsured patients receive the hospital care they needed and thankfully I qualified. But I was still woefully short the amount I needed for my mission.
In mid-August, my young missionary friend returned from his mission and came to Derby for Stake Conference. I was excited to see him again as well as other friends I had left at school. I told them of my plans to go on a mission and how the medical bills that ensued while trying to find out what was wrong had eaten at my savings. My missionary was quiet as I told them about my break-up (though I had written to him about it as well as my plan to go on a mission) and future plans. "Boys are stupid and I'm never getting married," I told them, but I wasn't quite so sure about it having seen my friend again. Suddenly a mission seemed so distant.
In September, I underwent surgery to remove the cyst and that weekend, my friends came down for a singles activity. They came several hours early so that they could spend time with me. The sweet young man wouldn't let me get up for anything, fetching my water glass when I said I was thirsty, getting me a pillow that had fallen from the couch, anything to keep me comfortable and still. I stubbornly held out that I was going to the activity, but not long after arriving, my mother wisely made me come back home.
The next day, this wonderful young man called me and left the funniest message on my cell phone. "Um, hi Jessica, um. I just, well, um, I had a couple of, uh, questions for you. Could you, um, call me? Please?" I giggled to myself and wondered what could possibly have made him so tongue-tied. I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. I called him back only to miss him too, so I left a message explaining that I was working the next day, but he could call me anytime after 3:15.
At 3:20 the next day, "Open Arms" by Journey started playing on my cell phone. He had called me back! I answered the phone and the following conversation ensued:
"Hi Jessica, I got your message."
"Yeah, you said you had a couple of questions for me. I'm sorry I missed your call. I forgot to take my phone off silent after church."
"Oh, that's okay. Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah, I walk like an old grandma right now, but I'm not in much pain so it's okay."
"I'm glad you're feeling better. Um, I was going to ask if you'd heard anything about the next young single adult activity."
"No, I really haven't gotten any information on it yet. I think they're still planning it. Why?"
"Oh, we just wondered if the Emporia singles were being invited."
"I think so, but I don't know. Sorry I can't help more."
"That's okay."
Pause
"Was there anything else you needed?"
"Well, yeah, um, I was wondering if you'redoinganythingFridaynight."
I tried not to giggle aloud. "No, I'm free Friday night."
"Would you like to have, um, dinner with me? And maybe watch a movie?"
My heart soared and I said, "That would be great! If you want, we could watch a movie at my house. That way we can talk and no one will get mad at us."
"Okay, yeah, that would be great. So, I'll come down on Friday. What time works for you?"
"You're the one driving, so whatever time is best for you works for me. I am working Friday, but school's out at 3:15."
"Would 4:00 work then?"
"That would be great."
"Okay, and I'll let you pick where we go to dinner. I don't know any of the restaurants there."
"I know a great little Chinese place. Do you like Chinese?"
"Yeah, anything's fine with me. I've got to go, but I'll see you on Friday."
"See you then."
I hung up and couldn't get the grin off my face for the rest of the day. The whole mission idea was getting further from my mind again and Friday seemed to be forever away.
The date came and I had a wonderful time. We talked and laughed and reminisced about school. We talked about our goals and dreams. It was a magical night and I'm afraid we didn't pay a whole lot of attention to "Night At the Museum" as we were far too busy talking. He stayed until after 10:00 and my mom reminded him, "You've got an hour-and-a-half drive. You best get heading home."
"Yeah," he agreed reluctantly. I walked outside with him, gave him a hug and waved as he drove away. I was all smiles as I came inside and closed the door. With a happy sigh I looked at my mother and said, "Mom, I don't think I'm going on my mission yet."
Mom laughed and said, "No dear, I don't think so."
We continued to date and in December Mom dropped me off in Emporia for a singles activity and a friend's Christmas party. My then-boyfriend had told me that we would go on a date before he took me back home the next day. I was so excited I could hardly wait, but after a fitful night's sleep, Saturday came and we went to Applebee's for lunch before then going to the park. It was a nice day, though very windy. I found myself wishing I'd pulled it back into a ponytail. What followed was the most silent forty-five minutes of my life! We just walked and my normally chatty boyfriend didn't say a word. Finally we got back around to where the car was and I was having a hard time not showing my disappointment. I had been sure that something special was going to happen, and nothing had. Then he said, "Can we go back to where we were a minute ago?"
"Sure."
We walked to a little picnic area overlooking the pond. "I have an early Christmas present for you," he said.
I beamed and accepted a small, wrapped box. "What's this?"
"Open it," he said nervously.
I slowly unwrapped it. I'm slow anyway, but after making me walk around for forty-five minutes in the wind, I was getting a little payback. When the wrapping was finally off I was holding a little jewelry box in my hand. I glanced at him before looking back down and removing the lid. Inside was a heart-shaped pendant with a tiny crystal and the words written in Sharpie, "Will you marry me?" To his credit, he also said it aloud. I gasped and cried, "Yes!" and then followed our very first kiss.
On July 17, 2009 we were married and now four years later he is still the love of my life and I am grateful that God laughed at me so many times for being impatient. Now I have the most wonderful husband in the world and we have two beautiful children. I look forward to what the next four years and beyond will bring into our life together.
And so without any further ado, Happy Anniversary, Jonathan. I love you!
