Crazy Eights Tag

By Nichole Giles

My wacky friend Ali has caught me—she was it in another game of blogger-tag. Apparently, no matter how fast I run, someone always catches up with me. Or maybe I just get tired too quickly. Either way, I’m now “it.”

So…

In Ali’s exact words:

Here be Da Rules:

1. Mention the person who tagged you.

2. Complete the list of 8's.

3. Tag 8 other bloggers.

4. Tell them they have been tagged.

And here are my answers:

Eight Things I Look Forward To:

1. Getting a big book deal
2. Visiting my sister next week
3. Sightseeing in Texas while we’re there
4. Summer sunshine
5. Paying off our debt—someday
6. The Nickelback concert in August
7. A weekend with my “home-girls”
8. Hanging out at the pool all summer

Eight Things I Did Yesterday:

1. Took my husband to have surgery
2. Finished “Wings” by Aprilynne Pike (So good!)
3. Checked my email
4. Drove the carpool
5. Picked up prescriptions
6. Drove my kids to piano and guitar lessons
7. Dishes
8. Laundry

Eight Things I Wish I Could Do:

1. Go to Hawaii
2. Live by the ocean
3. Finish a book more quickly
4. Find an agent
5. Get a book contract
6. Get rid of my headaches (Forever!)
7. Play the guitar
8. Hire a housekeeper

Eight Shows I Watch:

1. 24
2. Prison Break (except now it’s done forever! Boo hoo.)
3. Heroes
4. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
5. The food network
6. The news (boring, huh?)
7. Seinfeld reruns
8. Um, I don’t watch much TV because I’d rather read or write. Sorry, I could only think of seven.

Eight Friends I’m Tagging:

1. Cindy Beck
2. Connie Hall
3. Darvell Hunt
4. Rebecca Talley
5. Rebecca Shelley
6. Keith Fisher
7. Kim Thompson
8. Tristi Pinkston

There you have it, folks! Crazy eights. See you in a couple of days for a review of "Wings."

My New Best Friends

By Nichole Giles

Last week, I caught wind of yet another gathering of writers. Though this one is called a CONduit rather than a conference (the difference being that not everyone who shows up to this one is actually a writer—some are groupies, gamers, and world builders), I wondered if it would be worth my time to go.

I couldn’t use the excuse of money because it was really inexpensive in comparison with other conferences I regularly attend. And I couldn’t really use the excuse of distance because Salt Lake is really only a forty-minute drive from my house, and I don’t mind driving. Especially with music.

So after asking a few people about it, I decided it could be worth the investment of time. I gave it a shot.

Happy news, it was lots of fun! The serious writers were sort of separated from the gamers and groupies—sitting in on panels, attending readings and signings, and networking with each other. The word of the day for Saturday was networking. Not that the panels and classes weren’t important or useful—because they definitely were. Especially the Friday main address by Howard Taylor and the Saturday one by David Wolverton (aka Farland). Excellent, both of them. But even more fun was the chance I had to hang out with so many brilliant minds.

A bunch of us went to dinner together, and I had the opportunity (which I suspect will be rare from here on out) to sit next to and visit with Aprillynne Pike, whose debut fantasy novel, “Wings” hit #1 on the NYT Bestseller List last week. Across the table I chatted with Paul Genesse (“The Golden Chord”), and on my other side was my good friend Rebecca Shelley (“Red Dragon Codex”& “Brass Dragon Codex”). Down the line was another friend, James Dashner (“13th Reality” & “Mazerunner” series books), among other authors with whose work I am not yet acquainted—but am sure will be seeing in print very soon. I also had the chance to get to know a new member of my writer’s group. Josh Perkey is not only an editor for the Ensign magazine, but also an up and coming sci-fi/fantasy author. It was a good day.

But that wasn’t the end of the story. When we got back to the CON, we all sort of collapsed in the sitting area of the hotel lobby. Some of the original group left to go to bed, or call family, or hit the workout room, while others joined us to hang out. Howard and Sandra Taylor, Dave Wolverton (briefly), Julie Wright, Karen Hoover, Eric James Stone, and other people came to hang out with “the cool people.” About the point when the hotel staff got mad at us for rearranging the entire lobby (by finding more and more comfortable chairs and dragging them into an enormous circle) we moved into an empty conference room where we could put our feet on the table (shh, don’t tell!) and pretend we were having a very important meeting. It was relaxed and enjoyable, and good for the souls of us soon-to-be-published authors.

The bottom line? The classes and panels were fun. But socializing is always the best part for me. Would I go again? Absolutely. Will I ever dress up like Princess Leah or Darth Vader? Doubtful. Although, if it would make the difference between an agent or editor asking to see my work…maybe. You never know! Ask me again before next year’s CON.

In the meantime, you can find me hanging out with all my new best friends…or at least, their books.

Until We All Meet Again

By Nichole Giles

We prayed and prayed. And even though I wasn’t good at fasting—my body had always struggled to do without essential vitamins for more than 8 hours—we held a family fast. For the first time in 10 years, I was able to fast for a full 24 hours. But it wasn’t enough.

Carol was dying. Through all our prayers, our fasting, and many priesthood blessings, my husband Gary’s mother had survived—but after all was said and done, not one of us could deny the conviction with which we knew that the cancer would take her. She knew it too, and did her best to prepare the rest of us.

Meanwhile, life went on around her. The kids started school, my husband went to work, stores had monster sales, politicians campaigned for seats on the city council, and my two younger sisters planned weddings.

The first wedding, despite a somewhat tenuous relationship between the husband and wife-to-be, came together beautifully. My family handled all the preparations except the food, and we worked together as a team. It was perhaps one of the most beautiful settings for a wedding I had ever seen, but they didn’t get married in the temple. I listened to the finality of the bishop’s words, “For all your time on earth” and felt an undeniable sadness that my baby sister might never know the benefits of eternity.

The next wedding was different. You could feel it in everything. Again my family banded together to take care of the details, but this time, Gary and I were the only immediate family members who were able to attend the actual ceremony to see my sister sealed to her husband. I was the lucky one who escorted her through the endowment session the evening before. I held her hand, her face glowing and radiant, as she sat waiting for her true love to escort her through the veil.

I sat in the temple that day with my husband, watching my sister and her love join hands in bliss, and pondered the meaning of it all. Love and death. Here in this room, I could accept that Carol would soon be gone. Here in this room I could accept that this union I was witnessing would bring forth new life. And yet, tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over onto my cheeks.

The next day, even though I was only twenty-eight, I sat in a chair usually reserved for the mother of the bride—a place I was more than honored to sit—while the beautiful couple was joined for eternity. I had never been so proud.

The reception was a celebration to behold, and stretched out into the night long after the newlyweds were gone. I celebrated too, danced with my husband, my father, and both of my sons. And joy of joys, my daughter made a point of telling me that she hoped someday she would get to be married in the temple. And so we celebrated life.

Early the next morning, we received a phone call from Gary’s sister, Jennifer. “Mom’s going to be leaving us soon,” she said. “She slipped into a coma in the night, and we’re afraid it’s only a matter of minutes before she’s gone.”

Gary’s parents’ house wasn’t far away—only two miles or so—and we were dressed and there in record time. Jennifer was right. Carol’s eyes looked bruised—surrounded as they were by prominent dark circles—and they were closed. Every breath she took seemed to come right back out again, never seeming to make it anywhere deeper than her throat. The cancer had spread to her lungs and liver, causing her liver to shut down completely and allow fluid to build up inside her until she looked like a balloon that would pop. Her skin was a ghastly yellow pallor.

We gathered there, in that tiny bedroom, twelve people waiting for death. But Carol held on, insisting—even as she left this world—on waiting for everyone to arrive. One by one, her children and family members came to join the bedside vigil. Those last moments were precious as we each took a moment to tell her goodbye, shedding loving tears as she took her last breath and left us to pass through the veil.

Though she wasn’t my natural mother, a part of me felt broken, missing. We wandered around like zombies, fighting off the raw ache in order to do what needed to be done. Someone called the mortuary. Someone else started a phone tree to extended family members and close friends. An obituary was written, and the children were fed.

During all this, I couldn’t help but ponder the rapid pace at which joy turned into pain. It hurt. It hurt so bad I didn’t know how to deal with the feelings welling up inside me. Carol was no longer the person in pain—that was us now. By her leaving us behind, the roles had reversed.

Several days later, my sister returned from her honeymoon and called to see how we were doing. She sounded so happy—so utterly in love and at peace. And then it clicked. That feeling I’d been searching for returned. Of course we would see Carol again. My small children would have the opportunity to know her in another life, and to impart of her love and wisdom. And though they didn’t know it now, they would someday pass her genes and her spirit on to their children—who would also get to know her. The circle of life mirrors the blessings of eternity.

Lucky for me, I had a rare, and profound opportunity to witness both in a matter of two days.

It’s been six years since Carol passed away, but we remember her every day. Sometimes I feel the nearness of her spirit, and know she’s watching over us, taking time out of her busy schedule to protect us and help lead us in the right direction to find happiness and the fulfillment of our destinies.

Also in that time, between my two sisters and my married brother, I’ve gained three nieces and two nephews. I love those kids. I even got to witness two of them being born into the world. Life continues on into eternity.

And so it goes, until we all meet again

Book Review: "The Hourglass Door" by Lisa Mangum

By Nichole Giles

I wasn’t actually asked to review this book. But I was lucky enough to get an advance readers copy, and I’d heard such good things about it that this was first on my list after the writer’s conference last month. If you’d seen the bags (yes, plural) full of books I brought home, you’d know that means a lot. I was so excited to read it.

Of course, because the writing was so engrossing, the story so well told, I read it within two days. (Two only because I was suffering from a terrible headache and couldn’t read it all in one sitting—but even suffering, I couldn’t leave it alone for long.) The story is beautiful, full of human emotion and the characters seemed very real to me.

Lisa Mangum has a way with words that make them sound poetic and lovely, and the storyline is enchanting. Seriously, I truly loved this book.

I felt a little bit sad at the end, because I didn’t want the story to be over. But, really, it isn’t. There will be a sequel, and I’m already looking forward to it, knowing it’s one I’ll snatch as soon as I can get my hands on it. (Hopefully before the release date again, because I’m dying to see what happens next!)

Here’s a taste of the cover blurb:

His past. Her future. Can love bring them together in time?

Abby’s senior year of high school is going according to plan: good friends, cute boyfriend, and college applications in the mail. But when Dante Alexander, foreign-exchange student from Italy, steps into her life, he turns it upside down. He’s mysterious, and interesting, and unlike anyone she’s ever met before. Abby can’t deny the growing attraction she feels for him. Nor can she deny the unusual things that seem to happen when Dante is around. Soon Abby finds herself drawn into a mystery whose roots reach into sixteenth-century Florence, and she uncovers a dangerous truth that threatens not only her future but the lives of those she loves.

Now, the question is, can I actually wait until summer 2010 to read more? I certainly hope so. Lisa Mangum is sure to be a huge hit. Go Lisa! (And please hurry and finish the next installment—pretty please with sugar…)

Sunday Inspiration

Sometimes, it doesn't matter why. We have to dream big, try hard, and belive in ourselves--no matter what happens or what other people say. We don't make excuses, or tell ourselves we can't do something. We believe in ourselves and do what we need to do. And when it feels like the world is falling down around us, we still do it anyway.

Write on!

Martina Mcbride - Anyway - Watch more Music Videos at Vodpod.

Agent in Old Lace Launch Party

If you don't already know by now, my good friend Tristi Pinkston is launching her new book, "Agent in Old Lace" tomorrow at Providence Book in Pleasant Grove, UT. I'm way excited for this launch because I was one of the lucky critique groupies who got to read this before it went to press. Of course, as is true with all of Tristi's work, I loved it.

Everyone's invited, so come join us tomorrow for books, refreshments, prizes and a killer sale going on at Providence before they close the doors permanently. Feel free to bring a friend or several.

Date: Saturday, May 16th
Time: 3-5 p.m.
Place: Provident Book - 661 West State Street, Pleasant Grove

If you're not able to come, and would still like to purchase a copy of the book, you can do so here.

Praying for Miracles

By Nichole Giles

Today, I'm praying with a lot of other people. My cousin Jodi is having brain surgery right now, a complicated deal in which a team of specialist doctors hope to remove a tumor that is somehow wrapped around her right ocular nerve and has fingers in her brain tissue.

This situation causes me to ponder. You go through life thinking, "It's so sad that things like this happen to other people, but it'll never happen to me." Except things like this do happen. To good people. To good families and loving mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents... And none of us is immune, however much we believe otherwise.

But we choose not to live in fear of the unknown because, well, it's unknown and we don't really have any control over it anyway. That's a good thing, I think. Otherwise, how would we ever make it through the day to day things?

Jodi is way too young to die--early thirties--and has five little children who need her. So I'm joining my prayers to hundreds--possibly thousands--of other people who love Jodi. Together, maybe all of us can help find her a miracle.

May Writing Challenge: An Influential Woman (or a few)

By Nichole Giles

My friend Christine is brilliant. Every month she issues killer writing challenges that not only help hone our skills as writers, but make us reach down inside ourselves to scrape the feelings embedded in our hearts.

This month, the challenge is especially hard because I’m supposed to write about a woman who has affected my life for the better—or who has greatly influenced me—but who is not related to me by adoption or blood. Meaning I am not allowed to write about my mother, stepmother, grandmothers, sisters, daughters or…any of the many women who are most prominent in my life.

I considered not taking the challenge because, if I can’t write about those people who will I write about? But then I got thinking. (That’ll do it every time!) There are so many women in my life, I could write hundreds of thousands of words and still not cover all of them. The trouble choosing which one to write about.

Last week, I posted an article about friendship, and mentioned a group of women friends who keep me going through life—and have done so for thirteen years or more. These women are an important part of my life, and I love them as sisters. I look forward to our monthly nights out the way I look forward to holidays. And our weekends away…well, something not to be missed!

Each of these women has a different personality, a different life situation, and a different background. Our differences, as much as our similarities, keep us close.

For instance, I know that Jennifer will offer me a remedy when I’m sick, worry about me when I’m hurt, or pick up my kids in an emergency. She’s also an expert listener. Lori, on the other hand, will drop whatever she’s doing to go to a movie with me, will offer sympathy when life throws me a curveball, and offer her wisdom and experience. Tiffany will listen, offer insightful advice, has a mountain of patience, and is quick to read whatever I send her (which is important to an aspiring author). Raylene is the idea woman who always has a recipe, a brilliant party idea, and keeps us laughing no matter what’s going on in my life or hers. Mitzi is a warm shoulder, and a woman who has shown me that it is possible to start over again when things are worse than you ever thought life could be.

But if you’re a regular reader, you know all of that from my recent blog, Buckets of Friends.

So I’ve decided today to blog about some other women in my life—ones I have contact with every day and who have cheered me when I’m down, lifted me to greater heights, and encouraged me in my writing. These women have been there to point out my minor type-o’s, my major plot problems, misspellings, repetition, formatting issues, and about every other problem a writer can face. Not to mention rejections.

They’ve worried about me when I’m off-line for a long period of time, they know the names of my children, my husband, my dogs—they know the names of all my main characters, where I’ve been published, and what I’m marketing now. They’ve read all my work—even short articles and blogs—and always offer assistance whenever I need it.

It’s possible that without these women I might someday be a good writer—someday far in the future. But because of them, and with their help, I’ve progressed exponentially. And yes, I have been published—thanks to their unfailing help.

I owe a debt of gratitude to Cindy Beck, Connie Hall, Rachelle Christensen, Tristi Pinkston, Heather Justesen, Kim Thompson, Christine Bryant, Danyelle Ferguson, Ali Cross, and Karen Hoover.

There are more, many more, but these are the women I depend on regularly. Who I have contact daily or weekly, and I’d like to honor them.

Thanks, ladies! You’re the best.

Check out this music video—this one’s for all of you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MJwdY6Y0Hw

A Teaching Opportunity

(Or Pay it Forward...)
By Nichole Giles

Saturdays are generally busy at our house. There’s always a sports game to attend or play, birthday parties, teenagers with plans, and someone who needs a ride somewhere. It’s the day set aside for yard work, laundry, and anything else that doesn’t get done earlier in the week.

This past Saturday was no different. While I ran the kids around taking care of some errands, Gary mowed the lawn. Our plan was to meet at home by 2:00 so we could get our oldest daughter to a basketball tournament in another city and both watch her play, but when 2:00 came around, I was home, and Gary wasn’t.

He called, though. “Hi,” he said. “I took the grass out to the green-waste plant, and while I was there, a guy accidentally locked his keys in his truck—and his toddler son.”

“Uh, oh,” I said. “That’s not good.”

“Nope,” he said. “They called the police, but since it’s on the borders of three different cities, they’re all fighting over who has to go. Not only that, dispatch got the address wrong and sent them to the dump.”

“That stinks,” I said, meaning it literally. If you’ve ever been to a green-waste/ sewer plant, you know exactly what I was talking about. Poor guy.

“Anyway,” Gary continued, “have everyone who’s going to the game ready, and when I get there, I’ll grab the Slim-Jim out of my patrol car and stop to help him on our way. Otherwise, that poor kid will be stuck in that truck all day.”

When he got home, we all piled in our truck, and Gary took the time to grab his Slim-Jims and lock picking tools. (Because you never know when a cop’s going to go criminal. Kidding.) By now we were feeling fairly rushed—knowing Brittany had to be to her game a few minutes early. But—as we explained to her—sometimes you stop what you’re doing to help someone else. Even if it makes you late.

We drove in through the exit (to surpass an enormous long line) and zipped right up to the distressed father. Gary shoved a wedge in his window, popped the lock, and shook his hand—it all took a total of about two minutes—and we were on our way again, glad to be able to breathe through our noses as soon as we drove away.

As we left, Madison asked, “Daddy, why did you help that man?”

He looked at me, and I looked at him, both understanding that this was one of those teaching opportunities we sometimes come across as parents. He said, “Heavenly Father helps us all, but most of the time it’s through other people. It was our turn to answer someone’s prayer today, and when you get an opportunity like that, you always take it.”

I nodded, adding, “You never know when someone else will be sent to answer one of your prayers. Would you want them to ignore the opportunity?”

“Besides,” Brittany piped up, “how would you like to be stuck standing outside the truck smelling that?”

Madison wrinkled her nose. “Ew, no. That’s disgusting. That place reeks.” She patted Gary on the shoulder. “That was nice of you, Dad.”

And that was the end of the discussion. We made it to the basketball game—not only on time, but early, as we’d meant—and our day continued without even a slight hitch. It didn’t hurt us one bit to go back and help that person and his child, but it did give us a rare opportunity to teach our children how important it is to help others—even strangers.

And, you know, it doesn’t hurt our karma, either. One more thing I absolutely believe in. Pay it forward, and it will always come back.

Thursday Thoughts

By Nichole Giles

I do believe in fairys. I do, I do, I do, I do!

"Come faeries, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame." ~William Butler Yeats

Five Random Things

By Nichole Giles

1. My eleven-year-old daughter is the candy-keeper in our house. We buy her bags of candy (to replace all the candy my husband and I eat while she’s at school) and she dumps it all in a basket, then doles it out to the family whenever she thinks we need it. (Which is all the time for some of us, and her timing is usually perfect. She must be psychic or something.)

2. Our youngest dog—who by all accounts is technically still a puppy—is going through a digging phase, right in time for garden planting season. Yipee! She’s spending a lot of time locked in the kennel lately, which breaks my heart—but not enough to let her destroy my veggies.

3. I decided the other day that my new vacation goal for the future is to visit Italy, or more specifically, Rome. Well, that’s not definite. I’d really love to see Venice as well. Both seem like such romantic places, filled with rich history and incredible art.

4. It’s impossible for me to fill out forms (including Facebook quizzes) that include the question: What is your favorite book. How in the heck am I supposed to choose just one? It would be easier for me to tell what I’m currently reading, or post a picture of my overflowing bookshelf or something. I love them all, and for different reasons. The ones I don’t love don’t stay in my mind long enough to matter, and the rest have their own special space on the bookshelf in my head.

5. I drove around town with my convertible top down yesterday, even though it rained a little bit. Seriously, you don’t even really get wet if you’re going faster than fifteen miles an hour. Not that I would’ve minded if I did. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. That car was way cheaper than therapy!

Bonus:
I finally got an iPhone last month, and can I just say, I love it! It’s like a pocket computer—minus the keyboard. I mean, it has a keyboard, but there’s no way I could type an entire book on it—or could I? Hm. I may have to try that…

Tristi's Contest

This week, my good friend Tristi Pinkston will be launching her new book. "Agent in Old Lace" is a romantic suspense that will keep you laughing all the way to the end. (And yes, I've read it and that's my own blurb. I loved this book!)

Now, hot off the press, she's giving away a prize package containing a still warm copy...that is, if you like to play games. Click here to find out the contest details.

"Agent in Old Lace" is set to hit store shelves in the next couple of weeks. Watch for it so you can be sure to get your copy.