Dramatic Openings

If you want to grab your reader (or agent, or publisher) you need to have a really amazing and dramatic opening line. And you can't get more dramatic than the death of your main character.

Here's a selection:

"I had never given much thought to how I would die." (Twilight by Stephenie Meyer)
"The children were playing while Holsten climbed to his death." (Wool by Hugh Howey)
"Elspeth died while Robert was standing in front of a vending machine watching tea shoot into a small plastic cup." (Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger - the backliner shows that Elspeth is a major character)
"This is the story of how I died." (Disney's Tangled and Rose's opening line in a climactic episode of Doctor Who)

So I'm delighted to say that even before I discovered this fact I had written the opening line of Emon and the Emperor: "I had drowned before."

What other dramatic opening lines can you recall? Have you read any other books which kill off the main character on the first page?

Enjoying the Journey

Yesterday I spoke in our ward with my husband.I thought for today's blog I would draw upon some of what I shared during that adventure.

After we were asked to speak, and were told that we could tackle whatever topic came to mind, I began praying to know what to touch on. I shouldn't have been surprised when I found myself wide awake early one morning with a multitude of thoughts running around inside my scrambled brain.

All of them had to do with finding joy as we journey along in this mortal life. I suspect this came to mind because so many of us are dealing with heart-wrenching trials during these interesting latter-days.

So, here's a snippet of what surfaced inside my head that morning: It is actually a commandment from our Savior to find joy in this life. In essence he has said: " . . . verily, I say unto you, and what I say unto one I say unto all, be of good cheer, little children; for I am in your midst and have not forsaken you;" (D. & C. 61:36)

I was reminded that there have always been challenging times, beginning with Adam & Eve. Think about what they went through--going from a heavenly setting full of bliss and peace in the Garden of Eden, to a place where they had to work for every mouthful of food, create their own shelter, and basically, fend for themselves. It definitely could've been a time for self-pity and depression. Instead, both Adam and Eve celebrated this chance to learn and grow and have a family. (See Moses 5:10-11)

I was guided toward the wisdom of King Benjamin found in Mosiah 4:20. I found the humor in his wording of how we tend to "beg" for help when things hit the fan in our lives, and how our Father is always willing to listen to us and help us find peace and joy, regardless of what it is we're struggling through.

We've all been blessed with character-building moments--and since we're all very unique, they are all very different. These are the things that help us learn and grow, stretching us spiritually in our quest to become more like our Heavenly Parents. But it's seldom a "fun" process, gaining the education we came to find in this mortal world. And there are times when we wonder if we'll survive the curriculum. But there is always hope. I often find peace of mind by searching the scriptures.

Mosiah 7:33 basically tells us to do the following:
1-Turn to the Lord.
2-Trust in Him.
3- Serve Him--with a good attitude.
4-And if we are willing to do all of that, we will be delivered from the trial we are enduring, or receive the strength to hang in there.

Alma 36:3 states:
1-We must trust in God.
2- And if we are willing to do that, we'll be supported in our trials.

Proverbs 3:5 shares:
1- We must trust in the Lord with all of our heart (not just a tiny portion)
2- Realize that we are not always going to understand 'why' some things happen.

D. & C. 19:23 instructs:
1- We need to learn about our Savior.
2- We need to listen to His words.
3- Be meek enough to feel the Spirit.
4- We will be given peace.

So on and so forth. If you look through the topical guide under the word, "JOY," you will be amazed by how many references there are to this emotion. I was told once that if you find something mentioned in the scriptures 3 times or more, we need to pay attention. From what I have found, "JOY" is mentioned way more than 3 times. This means it's important. 

To sum things up: we're in mortal mode to learn and grow. This is not always a fun quest. We seem to grow the most from those soul-stretching adventures that come into all of our lives. Despite these challenges, we can find peace and happiness--if we'll seek a cheerful attitude. It's not easy--but things of worth seldom are.

As Lehi so eloquently phrased it: "Adam fell that men (and women) might be; and men are that they might have joy." (2 Nephi 2:24)

E-Books Need Editors

With the increased use of e-readers more and more of the books I review come to me electronically instead of as paper books.  I love to read and I'm not too fussy about which way I  read a book.  I've always loved the look and feel of a real book in my hands and because I've always depended on a partially photographic memory, paper books hold some definite advantages for me as a reviewer.  I can easily turn to a page or section I wish to quote or paraphrase without making copious notes.  Unfortunately my poor brain thinks all pages look the same on the e-reader.  Still I like the convenience and the portability of the e-reader. 

I'm fairly tolerant of the occasional error in the books I read for possible reviews.  Usually I'm more concerned with content, story structure, character development, and overall appeal than with typos.  Even paper books from really good publishing houses often have a few errors, but in recent years I've seen an increase in the number of typos, misspelled words, and even grammar errors in books from even the top publishers, but this is a drop in the bucket compared to what I find in the novels I read on my e-reader. Sometimes I shake my head and wonder if the author even went to school.  I've grown accustomed to seeing this problem on Face Book, but it seems to me that books someone pays money to obtain on their e-readers should be proofread better. 

 

Too many e-books are self-edited.  Being your own editor is a lot like being your own attorney; you have a fool for a client.  That's not to say a writer shouldn't go through his/her manuscripts and at each stage of the editing process with extreme care, but going it alone isn't wise.  Another set of eyes is needed to produce a quality product. At this point many writers hire the cheapest freelance editor they can find.  Some freelance editors do a great job, but some don't.  I've read books edited by one well known freelance editor who repeats the same word usage mistakes in multiple books by different authors.  As soon as I see pour for pore, tenant for tenet, or muscle for mussel, I can guess who the author used for an independent editor. 

I just finished reading a book which had a great story, sympathetic characters, and in a genre I enjoy, but on the second page was and were were interchanged.  As I got further into the story I found other grammar errors, several instances where a main character's name was changed, messy formatting, and an instance where a word was used that is similar sounding to the one meant but entirely different in meaning.  

I thoroughly recommend that writers go with a reputable publisher with real editors, but with the shortage of qualified copy editors these days smart writers need to go back to Grammar 101 and learn to proofread.  Those who decide to self publish in the e-reader market, keep in mind that you need two kinds of editors; one that analyzes content and knows how to help you produce the best story possible and one who understands the grammar, spelling, and typos maze.  Errors tend to stop the action and spoil otherwise perfectly good stories. 

Twenty years ago a writer told me her editor at a national publishing house went through her manuscripts with a purple pen, marking every misspelled word or grammar error, then a set amount was deducted from her royalties for each purple mark. I was careful to never submit anything to her publisher, but with some of the error riddled and badly formatted e-books I've read in the past two years since I got an e-reader, I've developed a great deal of sympathy for the publishing house.  Sadly I don't see the situation improving until we insist our schools do a better job of teaching grammar and spelling, until writers take the initiative to clean up their own work, and until readers refuse to pay for shoddy work.

Memorial Day

Monday morning, my husband, sister, great nephew, and myself were at the cemetery honoring not only those who had fallen in service to America, but also our son who passed away 3 years ago on May 12. It was a day filled with emotion. The bagpipe band was playing Amazing Grace, 100 flags were dancing in the light breeze, and the cemetery was filled with flowers. I spent time sharing my feelings with my dear boy--remembering funny and cherished experiences, missing him, and wondering what activities kept him busy on the other side.  How grateful I am for a testimony of a wondrous life after this one.

I thought of my dear nieces and nephews who have served and are serving in the military. They have sacrificed much for their country, and they have done it willingly and with love. As any mother or auntie in the world, we wish they didn't have to go to war, but we realize that there are evil leaders and men of ill will who must be thwarted in their mad designs.

I pondered my life; its purpose and importance. Was I doing my share to serve others, to teach the vital lessons of America and its inspired constitution, and to work on my own spiritual health?

The day became one of gratitude, reflection, and pondering.  A true Memorial Day.

The Soul's Room

I'm a bit short of both inspiration and time today, so forgive me if I use this opportunity to put up a poem I wrote a few years ago. I rarely write poetry, and have to be in the mood. This one is a conversion story, of sorts, but not mine because I never smoked and hardly ever drank.

The air is stale with smoke and ale

And the dust of all that’s old.

A threadbare chair squats, broken, there

By the hearth so icy cold.

Trembling, I took a golden book

And settled in the dust to read.

The warm words flowed, new strength bestowed,

The spirit knew my bitter need.

The Saviour came, He spoke my name

Cast heavenly light into the gloom.

Cleansed every part, restored my heart.

A Temple pure he made my room.

Never Forget

Years ago I remember gathering as a family at my paternal grandparents' abode in Idaho to prepare flowery bouquets that were then taken to a nearby cemetery over Memorial weekend. The beautiful flower arrangements were distributed among the family graves in this location. Stories were shared about these people--most of whom I had never met, like my father's sister who passed away the day she was born. I was shown the headstones of pioneer ancestors who had helped settle the area and reminded of the great sacrifices they had made to establish our family. Each year it was pointed out that my paternal grandfather had joined the cemetery board after the death of his infant daughter and how he had helped initiate the beautification of this particular cemetery, planting grass, pine trees, and flowering crab trees once the sagebrush was removed.This effort helped my grieving grandparents deal with the loss of their only daughter. Stories like these helped me gain an appreciation of who these people were and filled me with a determination to live up to their example.

When this yearly ritual was completed in Idaho, my family journeyed to Star Valley, Wyoming to do a similar thing with my mother's family. Once again we gathered at the grandparents' house to organize flowery bouquets that were then taken to another beautiful small town cemetery. We always began by decorating the tiny grave of my mother's brother who died in a tragic accident when he was seven years old. Other bouquets of flowers were then placed near the headstones of aunts and uncles, and ancestral grandparents who are buried in this location. Stories were once again shared about sacrifices made, and the courage these people possessed.

I remember asking about the small American flag that was attached to the side of one relative's grave and being informed that this member of our family had served bravely in the armed forces, fighting for our country. Shortly after this information was shared, I was taken to a special ceremony at this same cemetery where a larger flag was raised, a speech was delivered about the importance of remembering the sacrifices made by those who offered their lives to keep our nation free. And I will never forget the haunting melody of "Taps" as it was played on the trumpet by a talented musician. 

Decorating graves over Memorial weekend has been a huge tradition on both sides of my family. My mother promised her mother that this would always take place each year--and each year, she has faithfully come through, despite ugly weather, health challenges, etc. As a child, I enjoyed meeting up with extended family members during this traditional holiday weekend. I loved hearing the stories about my ancestors, and I have passed these same stories on to my own children in an attempt to keep the family flame burning.

Memorial Day took on an even deeper meaning when my own father passed away several years ago. I don't think I will ever forget how hard that first Memorial weekend was as we somberly gathered around Dad's grave. The pain of that time was eased by extended family members who met up with us in Star Valley, sharing love, delicious food, and fond memories of our father.

This year as I took my mother on our annual "Memorial Loop", as we call it, we journeyed to Lewisville, Idaho to decorate the graves of my father, and his family. There we met up with cousins on that side who had come to do the same thing. It was wonderful to see them, and to spend a short heartfelt time together as we remembered those who paved the way for us.

Then it was on to Star Valley, Wyoming, where we met up with part of my mother's family and enjoyed renewing family bonds. Once again we journeyed to the cemetery where loved one are buried and set out flowers to commemorate their memory.

One thing I noticed this year . . . there weren't as many people decorating graves. We were told this by the man who owns the place where we stayed in Star Valley. He commented that during this era of busyness, people don't seem as interested in celebrating Memorial weekend in the traditional manner.

To me, this is a sad trend. I know most people celebrate this weekend--but for some it is merely the start of the summer. It's a time to go boating, fishing, camping, barbequing, etc. Those things are fine, and we've often done that ourselves . . . after paying homage to those who have gone before.

I think it's important to spend time remembering where we've come from--it helps us focus on where we need to go--a reminder that someday there will be an accounting of what we've done with our family names. Passing on family stories and examples of sacrifice and courage is important. It helps us to become less selfish as we focus on our ancestors and honor their memory during this special time of year. Taking the time to remember them is crucial--proof that we appreciate all that they have done on our behalf.

NOT MY BEST BLOG

This isn't a good blog writing day: I seem to be coming down with a cold.  I hope it's just a matter of being time to go back on my allergy meds, but my husband and several grandkids are just getting over nasty colds so . . . 

Anyway I considered writing about the loss of life and property in Moore, Oklahoma, and how we never know when tragedy might strike.  However all I can think of is the importance of being prepared with 72 hour kits, establish a contact place outside of your area where you can meet up with loved ones or leave messages, and the importance of making sure the people you love know you care about them.  I've been impressed with the courage and bravery so many have shown, I've wiped away tears for reunions and losses, and I've wondered why zoning laws don't require safe rooms in houses and public buildings along tornado alley.  But the fact is, I don't feel like writing at all. 

I'll admit it's unusual for me to not want to write.  This feeling is different from writer's block, a malady that strikes all writers sooner or later for varying lengths of time.  With Writer's block we may want to write, might even be in the middle of a project we want very much to finish, but feel stumped, don't know where to go, sometimes feel overwhelmed, the words just won't come.  But in this case there are thoughts in my head, things I could write about the tornado, about my sadness for the death of President Monson's wife, my disgust for the political scandals that were hid from the public before the election and the extremist views and comments from both the right and left that are only making a bad situation worse, all the cute and funny moments my grandchildren have brought into my life, and the kind action of my daughters who undertook a shopping expedition for me.  (I now have a pair of pants that fit!) I could even write about my therapy experience.  Who would have thought learning to bend and straighten a knee could be so exhausting and painful!   

What I really want to do is crawl in bed.  I had a strenuous workout today so I'll probably run the ice machine on my knee first, then swallow a few pills.  I'll try to do better next time I blog.  Good night all.