Tangled Words and Dreams

What Happened To Your Hair?

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Mon, 16 Feb 2015 11:59:00 +0000

Some of you may already know, but I recently did something a little crazy. Well, crazier than my normal crazy.

I dyed my hair pink.

All of it.

Bright pink.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Here’s the rest of the story.

See, life is hard. It’s true, there’s no way around it. Life is not going to be easy. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. While there are a million different things going on in my life, how I choose to react and feel about those events is completely under my control. And I firmly believe that even though life is hard it is also meant to be a time of great joy.

Somewhere along the way, a few months ago, maybe longer, I lost sight of that last fact. I was worried, stressed, sad, frustrated and every other negative emotion you can think of. But I was forgetting to balance it out with anything good and wonderful. Yes, those parts were still there I was just ignoring them because I wanted to be grumpy.

One day I decided enough was enough.

I learned several years ago that adding touches of fun colors to my hair gave me a boost and made me giggle and remember that life was fun. So, when it came time to re-do my color I looked at that bottle of pink stuff, thought really hard about the way I’d been feeling, and dumped the whole darn thing on my head.

It’s different. I look like I think I’m still a teenager. I get some weird looks. I give myself some of those weird looks. But, here’s the thing. When I look in the mirror now I forget to judge myself by the bags under my eyes, the lack of makeup, the spaces in my teeth, or the ghastly amount of weight I’ve gained in recent years.

Instead, I look in the mirror and laugh out loud. I think “you are one crazy, awesome lady!” and walk away giggling to enjoy my still rough day with a song in my heart.

While I certainly don’t recommend everyone dying their hair pink, (what if you’re not a fan of pink?) I certainly do recommend finding a way to remember what you love most about yourself every day. The world will give you plenty of opportunities to focus on the other stuff, find your own brand of craziness that makes the rest of it all okay and dance with it daily.

Life is just better that way.

A Good Book is a Secret Door

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Thu, 16 Oct 2014 16:21:00 +0000

Stumbled upon this wonderful talk on why writing for children and good books are particularly magical.

Keep Writing

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Tue, 05 Aug 2014 21:40:00 +0000

Many of you are aware that the last few years of my life have been, well, interesting to put it lightly. It has meant that many of my extra writing time and paying assignments had to be put aside. I’d been building my career steadily for many years, now I’m almost back to square one as far as money goes.

I have other skills. I have things I could do that would bring in a descent paycheck. I have things I would like to try that would bring in a fair paycheck. I have things that I currently do that bring in teeny-weenie paycheck.

Now that my life has settled into a new normal I’ve begun pondering which one of those paychecks I value from every aspect. I’ve done a lot of soul searching and wondering what would happen to my sanity if I went back to work at a “real” job full time. It wouldn’t be pretty, but. . . money. Need I say more?

The fascinating thing is the more I’ve pondered this, my heart and my God have whispered a very bizarre bit of counsel.

“You’re already doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing.

Don’t worry.

Keep writing.”

Can you guess which line I’m having trouble with?

Yep, it’s that whole “Don’t worry” thing. Did I mention the lack of paying assignments and teeny-weeny paycheck?

It’s good to know I’m still doing what I’m supposed to be doing, but starting at square one is pretty scary.

So, for the next year or so I guess I’m back to busting my not so little hiny with that “Keep writing” thing.

It's Contest Time!

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Mon, 28 Oct 2013 13:51:00 +0000

For the entire month of October I have been running small contests on my facebook page for free copies of my new book A Companion to the Children’s Songbook.

We’ve reached the last Monday in October, so this marks the last and biggest contest.

It will run until midnight (EST) October 31, 2013.

You may enter here, or on facebook. I’ll be posting reminders throughout the week there.

How do you enter? Do one (or several) of the following things:

Visit your local Deseret Book store and go on a treasure hunt for my book. Then: Leave a comment if you find it naming the specific store.
If you don’t find it, kindly ask the staff at that store to consider carrying it. Then: Leave a comment saying that you did so.
Don’t live anywhere near a Deseret Book? Recommend my book to your local primary chorister, and provide them with this purchase link http://deseretbook.com/Companion-Childrens-Songbook-Alison-Palmer/i/5093163. Then: leave a comment that you did so.

That’s it, just help me spread the word a little bit and you could find a free copy in your own hands. Yippee!

Look, I'm a Fairy!

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Wed, 25 Sep 2013 22:27:00 +0000

My fairy name is Fen Golddancer

She likes to steal shiny coins and pretty trinkets.
She lives in reed marshes and lonely fenland.
She can only be seen when the bees swarm and the crickets chirrup.
She wears pale pink marshmallow flowers and has bright lemon coloured wings like a cicada.
Get your own fairy name from the fairy name generator!

Sorry, I just couldn't resist. My friends and I have been having fun with this little name generator and for whatever reason it seems to be nailing our personalities every time. very weird :)

Have Fun With It

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Wed, 21 Aug 2013 11:42:00 +0000

I thought I’d share an old Facebook status with you today.

December 3, 2012

I'm still being haunted by a writing project that needed major revisions. Hubby was asking me about it yesterday and I said I felt like it was mocking me and telling me I didn't have a creative bone left in my body.
Him, "Could you hand this off to anyone else and get the same book you would write?"
Me, "No, but what if....."
Him, "Just stop it. It's your book, it's uniquely you. It will be finished when it's finished. Stop letting your doubts win and have fun with it. Be you."
And once again, my husband grounds me with reality and a no nonsense pep talk.

As many of you know, my husband passed away in June. It wasn’t very nice of the stinkbrain and I’m still mad at him (yes, I’m kidding) but I’m doing okay.

This old status has special meaning for me today since this particular project is finally headed to press. It turns out he was right. Sometimes I had to dig pretty deep to find those creative bones, but they never completely abandoned me. And, as long as I remembered to have fun with it things worked out the way they were supposed to. I’m extremely grateful to have been blessed with a husband who fully supported the flake that I am and my need to create and write even when the results seemed less than ideal.

Thanks dear, I’ll see you on the other side.
Oh, and do I need to remind you to be nice to your mother? :)

Re-kindling My Joy

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Mon, 10 Sep 2012 10:15:00 +0000

If you know me, and you know my writing, you know I tend to be rather eclectic. I could probably be a much better writer if I stuck to one type of prose, but that’s not part of my nature and turns what I love to do into a job instead of a joy. Yes, money and success are important parts of feeling fulfilled as a writer, and though you will probably never see my name on the best seller lists or even my tag line on most of what I write, I am happy with the amount of money and success my writing brings me. Were I to change who I am and how I write I’d lose out on my ultimate agenda: joy. I write for three reasons: money, challenge and joy. Of the three, joy is the most important. I take on projects based on their value to me in those three areas. Some things I write are simply because the money is decent. Some are because the challenge of seeing if I can pull it off intrigues me. Some are embraced because I know it will be good for my soul. My current adventure falls into the challenge and joy categories. I’m hoping the money will follow, but it’s not guaranteed. The thing about writing for joy is— there are certain forces who really don’t want you to experience such pleasure because it lifts your spirit and draws you closer to God. That certain someone will find ways to try and stifle your joy, faith, and commitment because it does not fit his agenda. Meany. That’s what happened with my current project. I’d been happily engaged in it, then realized that my “playing” wasn’t making the progress I needed to meet promised deadlines and stretch myself as a writer. Enter worry, stress, and stumbling blocks of all kinds. Have you ever noticed that when you’re on the right track the road can suddenly turn very rough? Yup, that was me. I started pushing for the business aspects of the project and forgetting the reason that I’d taken it on. Not the pride of a finished project, but the joy of the project and being able to convey that to the end-user and spark their own joy. While deadlines and accuracy are extremely important, those cares should not stifle the spirit of the project. I had been pushing myself this past week to both finish the book and find a solution to yet another stumbling block carefully placed in my way. I thought I was up to the challenge and plugging ahead and doing fine. Then, I noticed something when I went back to edit the work for that week. You know what? Most of it stunk. Yep. It was rote words and empty phrases with a complete absence of joy. Needless to say, I’ve missed my deadline- a very rare occurrence over my 10 year career. There was a specific time frame that would have been optimal for getting this book on the market, but what good does that window do if I’m not sharing my best work with the reader? Not much. I had to step back and decide that the spirit and longevity of the final project were more important than getting it done. And, guess what? Once I refocused on that part of things, the joy rather than the drudgery, my stifled creativity is responding with little sparks of new and interesting light. It’s a beautiful thing. Yes, I’ve let a few people down and had to admit my short-comings. It may have some negative outcomes for me to deal with. It may mean this particular project never sees the light of day. I’m going to have to take that chance. This project is about lifting my personal spirit and sharing that experience with the reader in order to lift their own happiness. If I’m not conveying that, I’m not doing the job I set out to do. So, send your joyful and good vibes this way, ‘cause I’m writing, come what may.

She's Alive!

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Mon, 26 Mar 2012 19:05:00 +0000

Well, sort of.
I have been spending a lot of time lately trying to re-create and re-invent myself to fit the curve balls life has thrown me. These nasty pitches have, unfortunately, taken quite a toll on my personal confidence and creativity. (as noted by the previous post and resulting silence)
It's been a lot like constructing Frankenstein's monster. The pieces come from some very strange places some times, and often don't look like they'd fit at all, but they are gradually coming together.
Am I the same person I was a year ago? No. Am I a better me? I hope so.
Am I writing again? Gradually. It's not an easy process but my creativity, whimsy, and spiritual wells that my writing draw upon are slowly refilling and showing signs of life. No big thunderstorms and lightening bolts yet- but it's coming.

Could You Ever Walk Away?

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Fri, 15 Jul 2011 14:31:00 +0000

Have you noticed how quiet this blog has been lately? Yup, me too. I feel bad about it, I really do, but every time I try to figure out what to post I come up blank.

That’s pretty much the problem with all of my writing recently. And by recently I mean the past, um three years? That’s just a guess. In reality it feels like a lifetime. I used to love writing. I couldn’t wait to get to my computer every day and spew out all the thing that had been circling around in my head since the last time I’d been able to sit down and write. I loved the challenge of even the most mundane assignment. Now, not so much.

Without going in to great detail suffice it to say that things have changed for me over the past few years. A bunch of little things combined with a few big things have caused a big part of me to “die” so to speak. It’s just not there anymore. I can’t access a big part of who I used to be. At first I just mourned the loss and tried to push through it. It didn’t really work. Everything creative that I’ve tried to do has been awful. Beyond the normal awful for a first draft stage. I’ve procrastinated every nonfiction and technical assignment until it couldn’t be put off any longer then felt that I wasn’t exactly putting my heart, or most of my mind, into what came out on the page for those assignments either. It wasn’t my best work.

I thought maybe I was taking on too much. I’ve whittled away most of my clients and stopped looking for new assignments, giving myself permission to write just because I want to write. It hasn’t worked. In the last few months I’ve been trying to find new ways to stimulate the creative side of my brain: visiting museums, taking art/craft classes, picking up my sewing supplies. Nope. So far that hasn’t worked either.

I don’t feel like a writer any more. I just feel empty. Is a writer still a writer if they can’t write? If I’m not a writer who am I?

Could you ever walk away?

Gluten-Free Cooking Made Easy by Susan Bell

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 21:01:00 +0000

What happens when you give six women/families with gluten allergies copies of Gluten-Free Cooking Made Easy: Delicious Recipes for Everyone by Susan Bell? Six very happy tummies.

Compliments of Walnut Springs, my friends and I were able to taste-test this new cookbook and I have to say with great pleasure that the cookbook was a resounding success! Hurray Susan Bell and Walnut Springs Press!

So let’s get right to the point. The food was yummy, we found a few typos and slip ups in the ingredient lists, but on the whole we were extremely pleased with the recipes and the resulting fabulous dishes. Hands down winners? The Best Waffles and the Angel Food Cake. Mmmmmmmmm. For people who normally have to go without or eat cardboard, need I say more?

What else is there to like? It isn’t just baked goods. (Okay, I know my description above kind of sounded that way, but I promise it’s full of a variety of great dishes.) If we had to tear ourselves away from the bread products, the stir fry, fajitias, cheesy halibut, creamy ramono chicken, taco soup, sweet pear pork chops and chicken pasta salad also got happy nods of approval.

Gluten-Free Cooking Made Easy: Delicious Recipes for Everyone is a great introduction to the weird world of gluten-free living. The food is wonderful and fairly easy to make. Having a resource like this can make things a little less discouraging. One woman used it as a reference to go through all her “old” family favorites and figure out how to easily adjust them for her daughter-in-law’s diet restrictions. Another just simply threw out all of her old cookbooks she was selectively sifting through and proclaimed Gluten-Free Cooking Made Easy: Delicious Recipes for Everyone to be the only cookbook she needs or uses. It really can feed the whole family without the bread-tolerant members even noticing a difference. Heck, my autistic son gobbled down the chocolate chip cookies without blinking and believe me, it’s very hard to pull one over on him!

I have to admit when I first looked through the recipes I was a little discouraged. The ingredient lists to duplicate a wheat flour can feel a little daunting. I’m a very lazy cook, so it might not bother (and didn’t seem to) anyone else. What I’ve found though, is the recipes are usually simple enough outside of the ingredients that I can kind of do a “make a mix” approach with the flour ingredients. I simply measure twice, cook one set of ingredients and the other set of ingredients in a Ziploc bag so it’s a little easier the next time I’m craving that awesome angel food cake. Did I mention we really liked the angel food cake? And the waffles? And the zucchini muffins? And the blueberry muffins? And the rice bread?

Hungry yet? Yep, me too. So, if you’ll excuse me I haven’t gotten a chance to try the brownie recipe yet and I can hear it calling to me.

StarScout Rising: First Trail by Gary Darby

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Fri, 18 Mar 2011 16:36:00 +0000

When I first received StarScout Rising: First Trail by Gary Darby I have to admit my thoughts went along the lines of “boy, that’s a thick book” and “jeepers, that’s a creepy cover”. It took me a while to get over my intimidation to find out it was a pretty decent book.
Here’s a little bit about the book from Amazon:
From the last frontier, Space. A must-have, out of this world adventure! Star Scout Rising, First Trail by Gary Darby is a thoughtful, awe-inspiring, and spine-tingling Sci-Fi mystery that follows a young man named Del Baldura during his quest for knowledge, truth, and discovery in the distant future of human and alien kind. This story has it all superb background, surprises, mystery, love, futuristic technological possibilities, bizarre life forms, and a hero trying to make sense of his duty and loyalty, his current leadership responsibilities, and his search for truth about part of his and his family's history. Volume One of a three volume set, Darby hits a grand-slam with this first novel. Smart and thought provoking. Volume Two due out in 2011.

There’s plenty of action and high-interest intrigue in this book. There were moments that made me giggle and others that made me bit my nails. I also liked the mix of characters—old and young, male and female. I liked the way the friends stuck up for each other and stayed together even when it would have been easy to go a different road. Better than that, I liked that the story was clean and unabrasive. There were none of those "icky" bits that you wonder why they really needed to be there in the first place. This is one book you won’t have to worry about handing over to your Sci-Fi loving teen.

What didn’t I like? Eh, there were a lot of different character and subplots going on. I sometimes had trouble keeping it all straight and didn’t get as much closer at the end as I would have liked (yes, even for a series). I should also mention the editing could have been better, but it wasn’t completely distracting. Unless it’s bad enough to hinder my reading I don’t judge a story by how clean the copy ended up being.

I don’t know that you could get a reluctant boy reader to pick StarScout Rising: First Trail up since it is so thick, but I ‘m betting you could hand it to any teen boy who openly enjoys Sci-Fi and not see him for a couple of days as he hides under his covers reading. Hurray for clean reads which cater to teen boys!

Have You Heard?

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 16:53:00 +0000

The Whitney Award Finalists have been announced. That means the 35 "best books" by LDS Authors for the year 2010 have been decided.

Whether you qualify to vote on the best of the best, I'd encourage you to find spots in your reading time to include these books. There are some amazing titles on the list.

Don't believe me? Check out the finalists for yourself!

http://whitneyawards.com/wordpress/2011/02/01/the-finalists-have-been-announced/

Meg's Melody by Kaylee Baldwin

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Wed, 19 Jan 2011 13:18:00 +0000

Meg's Melody by Kaylee Baldwin is a sweet and satisfying romance. However, it wasn’t a “fluff” story either. Yes, we know who will ultimately end up together, but the journey to get there has more substance than, “Do you like me? Check yes or no,” types of details.

Meg seems to have the worst luck in men. She seems to attract the ones who don’t want to treat her very well, and worse, she begins to believe that’s all she should expect. Is it any wonder she has a hard time recognizing a good man, and the potential for a beautiful, uplifting relationship when it comes along?

I could understand exactly where she was coming from, and I think most young readers will be able to as well. The situation she finds herself in is a common one. Sometimes it felt like she was overcoming her problems a little too easily, but mostly the accomplishments were appropriate and believable.

I highly recommend Meg's Melody for the older teen/young adult scene who are beginning to take a closer look at what they’d like in a future mate. This book offers some non-confrontational food for thought wrapped up in an engaging love story package.

Kaylee is running a contest! Whomever comments a the review post on any of the blogs in the tour, will be entered into a drawing to win a copy of Meg's Melody.

January 10th
Shanda at LDSWBR
http://ldswbr.blogspot.com/

January 11th
Tristi Pinkston
http://tristipinkston.blogspot.com/

January 12th
Jolene Perry
http://jolenesbeenwriting.blogspot.com/

January 13th
Shaunna Gonzales
http://shaunnagonzales.blogspot.com/

January 15th
Taffy Lowell
http://sweeterthantaffy.blogspot.com/

January 17th
Heather at Fire and Ice
http://fireandicephoto.blogspot.com/

January 18th
Marsha Ward
http://marshaward.blogspot.com/

January 19th
Alison Palmer
http://alisonpalmer.blogspot.com/

January 20th
I am a Reader Not a Writer
http://iamareadernotawriter.blogspot.com/

Rebecca Talley
January 21st
http://www.rebeccatalleywrites.blogspot.com/

The Peasant Queen by Cheri Chesley

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 10:07:00 +0000

After what felt like a slow start in the first few chapters, I had a great time reading The Peasant Queen by Cheri Chesley.

Take a beautiful, intelligent girl from a farm in the middle of nowhere, add a far off kingdom at war with its neighbor and you’ve got the basic plot of a dozen fantasy novels. That said, The Peasant Queen is a romantic fantasy that can definitely hold its own among the most popular of those YA titles.

Krystal is a farm girl whose family has betrothed her to someone who is in no way her equal. In a desperate attempt to figure out how to get out of the marriage she considers running away. But the tables are turned slightly when she’s kidnapped instead. She’s not really sure why she’s there or what will be come of her. The reader isn’t sure either, but the whole attitude with which Krystal faces this unexpected challenge made the whole book for me.

Despite the nature of her arrival in the new kingdom, Krystal is anything but a victim of circumstance. She is a heroine extraordinaire and the kind of girl I’d want my own girls to learn a thing or two from. She’s strong, capable and determined. There’s no damsel in distress in this story and I loved that about it.

Did I have any issues? Eh- I’m one of those that take issue with having a heroine that every male character alive seems to fall in love with. Cheri did a good job of weaving it together in a believable scenario, but I would have been more comfortable if the bad guy’s motivations were more clearly self-love and wanting what he couldn’t have rather than showing actual *love* for her. Yes, it made him more human and all that good writerly stuff, my skeptical mind just didn’t want to buy into it. Sigh.

I’d highly recommend handing The Peasant Queen off to a tween or teen girl in your life. For the good story, but more importantly, for the positive messages about what it can mean to be a woman of strength come what may.

Who's at the Door? by Dan Harrington

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 06:09:00 +0000

I have to say I found Who’s at the Door? by Dan Harrington veeerrrrry interesting. This is a memoir about Dan’s time coming to know the Mormon missionaries and the messages they share. I truly enjoyed his perspective and seeing things from an “outsider’s” point of view. I’m grateful for people like Dan Harrington who have a healthy craving for spirituality as well as an even healthier esteem for religions and their benefits to all walks of life. Who’s at the Door? was well-done, respectful and spiritually uplifting.

I pray every missionary can have a “Dan” experience. There are people out there who are ready to hear the gospel for many different reasons. Not all of those people will end up in the waters of baptism. There are even more people out there who have no interest in learning about our religion and some of them aren’t very nice about it. I hope there are enough good people that our young men meet along the way that treat them with respect, friendship and love even when they are agreeing to disagree.

Who’s at the Door? makes a quick Sunday afternoon read and great food for thought in a Family Home Evening. It’s an interesting look at how what we say and do as we share our beliefs with others affects both ourselves and our friends. We tend to fall into two categories where missionary work is concerned. We’re either very skittish about the whole thing or completely zealous about it. This is a great way to find a happy medium and remember the most important part of missionary work—love, friendship and acceptance for those we talk to.

Who’s at the Door? is one of those books that had me thinking about who I knew that I could recommend it to the minute I finished. That earned it a few extra bonus points as well. Anything I didn’t particularly like? No, surprisingly it didn’t have many whiny complaints from me. I actually would have liked it to be a little longer and go more into some of Dan’s experiences sharing his interest and concerns about the church with others as well as what he learned investigating other churches along the way.

Thank you, Dan, for sharing your insights and beautiful spirituality with the world.

The Star Prophecy by Joan Sowards

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 06:20:00 +0000

Have you ever had a “feeling” about something, or known a secret that seems to just bubble up inside of you and take over every part of your life until you see it through? That’s the dilemma Enoch, from The Star ProphecyThe Star Prophecy by Joan Sowards, faces. He knows something with every fiber of his being and is compelled to do something almost everyone around him laughs at him for.

Enoch has heard the prophecies about the coming of the Savior, the signs surrounding His birth. But it’s not enough for Enoch to wait for the prophet’s words to be fulfilled when the Savior will come to visit the Nephites. Enoch is determined to return to Jerusalem to welcome the new born Jesus Christ himself. It’s his life’s dream and he will see it through even if it costs his life.

From the back cover:

Most people laugh when they hear of Enoch's dream of returning to Jerusalem to find the infant Messiah. Even Enoch's future father-in-law mocks him when he asks for a postponement of his long-awaited wedding to his beloved Rebekah. A few take Enoch seriously - the shipbuilder Omnihah, Enoch's teacher David, and the prophet Nephi.

Five years before, a Lamanite named Samuel had stood on the wall of Zarahemla and prophesied that "five years more cometh" and the Christ would be born in Jerusalem. Time is running out! Enoch knows he must set sail across the great waters in search of his dream - to see the face of the Messiah.

What an amazing tale of faith and love for the Savior. Joining Enoch on his journey of faith was a beautiful experience. Though the ending was fairly obvious to me from the beginning, I thoroughly enjoyed the reading ride it took to get there. Oh, and I love the cover, too. Don't you?

Any whiny moments? A couple of places where I felt the story “jumped” ahead, rather than flowing through a smooth transition to the next scene. Not anything negative, just moments where I found my brain saying, “wait, I wasn’t done here yet,” or “what? Did I miss something?” I guess I just wanted a little more to the story.

Yes, The Star Prophecyhas a Christmas theme but it isn’t overwhelmingly or sappily (yes, I’ve decided that’s a word) so. It’s just a beautiful story that you’ll find appropriate for any Sunday afternoon, Christmas season or not. This is one that will appeal to young and old alike. Thanks, Joan Sowards, for bringing this tale to life.

The adventure begins with the blog tour
for
The Star
Prophecy by Joan Sowards

We will be giving away THREE copies of The Star
Prophecy.

It's easy to enter.
1. Visit the fabulous reviews and leave a comment letting us know why
you're excited to read The Star
Prophecy. Remember to include your email address.
2. If you tweet about the blog tour, or post about it on your blog or
facebook, leave the link in the comments section and you'll receive an
additional entry.

Good Luck! Entries close at midnight (MST) on January 28.

January 10
I Am A Reader, Not A
Writer

January 11
Totally Tina

January 12
Peggy Urry

January 13
Tangled Words and Dreams

January 14
Kaylee Baldwin

January 17
Of Writerly Things

January 18
Writers Mirror

January 19
Bonnie Gets a Say

January 20
The Blessing of Family
Life

January 21
Anna del C. Dye's Blog
Renee S. Clark

One More Chance

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 16:32:00 +0000

If you are still looking to get your hands on one of my novels, you can pop over to my friend Karlene's blog and enter to win one. Tons of other cool prizes offered today but that's the catch- you only have until midnight to get entered so go! go! go!

Remember, you can read the first chapter of both novels here.

http://alisonpalmer.blogspot.com/2010/11/price-of-gold-first-chapter.html
http://alisonpalmer.blogspot.com/2010/11/prodigal-son-first-chapter.html

Happy blogaversary Karlene!

Winning Mr. Wrong by Marie Higgins

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 18:05:00 +0000

Well, Winning Mr. Wrong by Marie Higgins was a cute little book. Don’t expect any deep thought, only a light romance with a couple of giggles thrown in for fun.

Charley seems to be very unlucky in love. Try as she may, she doesn’t appear to be able to get a guy to stick with her for more than a few months. Sometimes she blames them, sometimes she blames herself. But one thing is clear: she needs to change her approach to love if she wants cupid’s arrow to stick forever.

Enter Max and Damien. Max is an old high school crush who seems perfect for Charley. Damien is the typical playboy next door neighbor: Italian and very cute but very much not what Charley is looking for. Funny how he always shows up and saves the day though. . . .

When Charley runs across an internet article on how to get a guy to like you, she’s all for it and knows just the target. Max will be head-over-heels in love with her before he even knows what hit him. Probably literally.

So what’s this magical “get your man” advice? It involves:

Dark chocolates
Hard-to-find gifts
Compliments
A night on the town
Tall buildings
Funny movies
Mending his clothes
Surprise intimacy
Great memories, and
I love you in a note

Now, I must admit, I rolled my eyes when I saw the list. Maybe it would actually work, maybe not, but I’m not exactly married to the typical male so it seemed a little out there to me. You’ll have to judge that for yourself.

How was the actual story line? Light and fluffy-the way a good romantic comedy should be. It was an okay read for me, but I suspect if I handed it to my almost 17yo the house would rock with giggles. That’s actually who I’m going to recommend Winning Mr. Wrong for. To me it really spoke to those teenage angst years of wanting to catch a certain guy’s eye only to find out he wasn’t such a good catch anyway, and learning who you really are before you can really be part of a solid relationship.

Hurray for Prizes! (Take Two)

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 05:01:00 +0000

I promised I'd be back to host my friend Tristi's month long giveaway a second day, and here we are. So.... hop over to her blog and find out how to enter to totally awesome prizes compliments of me! This time you can win copies of my two novels. (They're great stuff, I promise.)

Remember, you can read the first to chapters of the two novels here.

http://alisonpalmer.blogspot.com/2010/11/price-of-gold-first-chapter.html
http://alisonpalmer.blogspot.com/2010/11/prodigal-son-first-chapter.html
Good luck!

Hurray for Prizes!

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Sat, 11 Dec 2010 05:01:00 +0000

Today is my day to host my friend Tristi's month long giveaway. So.... hop over to her blog and find out how to enter to win mucho prizes compliments of me! Translation: win my Primary books (yes, all 9of them).

Later in the month you'll have a chance to win my novels. Remember, you can read the first to chapters of the two novels here.

http://alisonpalmer.blogspot.com/2010/11/price-of-gold-first-chapter.html
http://alisonpalmer.blogspot.com/2010/11/prodigal-son-first-chapter.html

Good luck!

Sun Tunnels and Secrets by Carole Thayne Warburton

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Tue, 30 Nov 2010 20:37:00 +0000

Have you ever wondered what the Golden Girls would have been like if they were LDS? That’s exactly what I thought of when I met “the sisters” in Sun Tunnels and Secrets by Carole Thayne Warburton. When I’m old and grey I want to wear purple, with a red hat that doesn’t go, and be just like LaRue, Mabel and Norma.

They actually reminded me a bit of my own grandmother before she passed. She didn’t want anybody sticking their nose in her business, kept her own secrets and wasn’t exactly playing with a full deck. (but that was okay, because cards were the tool of Satan and she wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that she had *any* much less having a few missing) J I just wanted to hug them.

There’s a lot going on in Sun Tunnels and Secrets. If you’ve ever lived in a small town you’ll know how hard it is to keep a secret in one, much less a series of them that come together in a tangle of coincidences. All I can say is it’s the type of thing that can only be pulled off in a place like Grouse Creek. I mean, you’ve got dead bodies on the side of the road, secret loves, secret children, secret cookie recipes and a dozen other things all wrapped up in a pretty book package. It was a fun, multilayered read.

Did I have any grumbles while reading? Well, there were times, especially at the beginning, when the information offered seemed a little heavy-handed. Not necessarily the dreaded “info dump” just a little obvious in places, just enough to distract me from the story but not enough to make me want to stop reading.

Pluses? As I’ve mentioned, I’m totally in love with the characters Carole Thayne Warburton created in the three sisters. I’m also itching to go see the Sun Tunnels for myself (after all, I’m not a Utah-ite so I didn’t even know they existed. I also enjoyed the touches of historical insight.

Who would I recommend Sun Tunnels and Secrets to? Hmmm. I think this one will appeal most to the older reader. It’s a pretty light read, but I don’t see the teen/early twenty crowd getting into it. Although, I can see a few of them wondering where their “Tony” is. . . .Also, anyone who’s been on the with the “widow patrol” at church. Great job, Carole!

It'sblog tour time for

Filled with zanny and loveable characters,family secrets, and of course mystery, Sun Tunnels and Secrets will appeal to every reader.We are giving away THREE copies. One lucky GRAND PRIZEWINNER will win a beautiful pot by Carole (who's also atalented potter)!

Blog tour runs from December 1st--December 9th.

Want to win a copy ofSun Tunnels and Secrets? It's easy.
1. Visit the fabulous reviews and leave a comment letting us know whyyou're excited to read Sun Tunnels.Remember to include your email address.
2. If you tweet about the blog tour, or post about it on your blog orfacebook, leave the link in the comments section and you'll receive anadditional entry.
****
On a trip to the Sun Tunnels in the Utah desert, Norma and her sisters finda body on the side of the road. But this awful discovery turns out to bethe least of their problems. Norma's husband just passed on, and she learnshe kept a secret from her for sixty years. LaRue is keeping a secret fromNorma. The sisters' young friend Tony is keeping a secret about his famousfather, and Tony's mother is keeping a secret of her own. Tony is secretlyin love with his friend Kelli, who recently escaped from a polygamist cult.And who is the mysterious young car thief with whom Norma feels a specialconnection? Everything converges in Grouse Creek at the Fourth of Julycelebration. Will secrets prove everyone's undoing?
November 30Alison Palmer--Tangled Wordsand Dreams
December 1Braden Bell--Braden'sBlog
December 2Danyelle Ferguson--Queen of theClan
December 3Jewel Adams--Jewel's BestGems
December 6Tristi Pinkston--*TrisitPinkston
December 7Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen--TheWrite Blocks
December 8Diony George--Diony George
December 9Marsha Ward--Writer in thePines

Merry Month of Miracles

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 23:16:00 +0000

My dear friend Tristi Pinkston is beginning a wild "Merry Month of Miracles" on December 1st. You definitly need to go check out the rules on her blog because there is prize awesomeness happening every single day in December.
Seriously.

Awesome
Prizes
Every
Day

This is one you need to get in on. Plus, little ol' me will be sponsering the prizes on December 11th, so don't miss that day for sure. Ah-hem. :)

The Price of Gold- First Chapter

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 22:01:00 +0000

Chapter 1

Met looked down at the silver knife in front of him, swallowing hard to push back the bile rising in his throat. He couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t, but he had to. This one horrid act meant the difference between life and death for him.
Just a few miles away there was a twenty-first century world with thousands of people going about their normal lives. They had no idea the things of Met's world could even exist. Met loved his life, but right now he wished he could be one of those normal people.
A breeze stirred the linen around his groin. That tiny sensation was enough to remind him of the traditional garb he was wearing, and the ritual that must be completed. Coming back out of his sickening fears, he glanced at the hooded bird on his arm and then out at the faces of his family. He nodded. The falcon’s grip on Met’s flesh was loosening. It was almost time.
The sour taste came back again in a forceful wave of regret. She was his favorite. He’d trained Paniwi himself. The beautiful falcon had been his almost constant companion for the last two years. He always knew this would be the end of things, tried not to get attached; but it couldn’t be helped. She was a beautiful bird.
Met watched the sea of faces out of the corner of his eye as he gently lifted Paniwi from her favorite perch on Met’s arm and laid her down on the stone altar. Her training, and the sedative that had almost taken full effect, would not let her get up. She would wait patiently and unknowingly for her fate.
The whole process made him weak and nauseous. He prayed with all his heart that things could go differently, but he knew that was an empty prayer the gods would ignore. This was a centuries old tradition. If he didn’t complete it, he would die. He could already feel the heaviness of his limbs and the restriction of his chest. His pulse was slowing as his heart began to harden.
His thirteenth birthday was only 24 hours ago, but the change in his blood was already well on its way to completion. If his body did not change and adapt to the thicker, more precious blood, it would kill him in a matter of days: much faster than his death would come otherwise.
The air began to pulse gently as the others started to shift their forms.
He began quietly reciting the prayer, whispering it to Paniwi’s ka. Though the others would hear, it was for her that Met prayed. He thanked her for her devotion, for her life and beautiful qualities. Then he encouraged her soul to speed its way back to the presence of Horus, carrying his vows of servitude with her.
After a short pause, he took a breath and began the next part of the incantation, his voice cracking with emotion as he pled with her for the precious gift he needed. Though he could not yet hear them, he knew the animal minds all around him now melded together to add their voices to the prayer. Met asked for the gift of her essence, her knowledge and skills as a hunter, her wisdom of the animal world, for her connection to the gods, and most importantly, for her form.
The world seemed silent, waiting, as his sob pierced through the air and his knife slit Paniwi’s throat.
His limbs that were once heavy were now on fire. The royal blood inside him thickened more quickly now and every cell in his body screamed in protest, both for the golden blood’s invasion and for the changes they were now being forced to make to accommodate it.
His vision went black, leaving only the memory of the bloody, broken form on the altar. His legs gave into the fierce pressure, buckling underneath him. Met dropped the knife and slipped out of consciousness.
When his vision returned, it was different. His, but not the sight he had known for the first thirteen years of his life. It was sharper, the edges of everything more crisp, colorful, and defined. It was weird. It seemed more focused, but his line of sight had suddenly grown much wider, like his vision suddenly switched from full screen to wide screen format. Met’s new eyes were extremely sensitive to any movement, making every little leaf that shifted in the wind flick suddenly into focus in the forefront of his sight before being dismissed as unimportant.
It was different, but then so was he. He flexed his new wings a little wider, searching for a current that would pull him up and away from the sacred clearing.
Everything still hurt. He was stiff and felt clumsy, but Paniwi’s gift had been given and received. Met’s new form knew its purpose. Tiny portions of his mind began processing the world in ways that were foreign to the old Met, but very familiar to the new Met. He loved the feel of the wind, the newness of the world.
He sent another silent prayer toward Paniwi’s ka, now in her language rather than the language of his forefathers, expressing gratitude for her sacrifice. He would feel the sorrow of her loss for a long time. But he would honor her gift and his heritage with everything that he now was, as his clan had done since the first pharaohs ruled Egypt.
With that promise he let his weary body drift toward earth, coming back down as night descended around him. Met would need to remain in this form for several days before his body could tolerate another transformation. He would still need time to heal, but the pain would fade and soon he would be able to shift between his two forms at will.
He landed on the corner of the family’s food table, directly across from the banquet prepared for their gods, and watched as the members of his clan filed past him on their way toward the food. Most had already shifted back to their human form, but there were still many other shapes present. Each one performed a swift kneeling bow in greeting; honoring his passage into the realm of the gods and also the god Horus who accepted Met as his son and servant.
Man and beast swirled together in a strange dance. There were humans dressed in cotton robes and wraps mingling with birds, cats, baboons, crocodiles, cows, jackals, wolves and many other creatures which most of the world would never see outside of a zoo. This was Met’s world—a place of mythical fantasy that was all too real. It was a life that very few could even imagine, much less know anything about. This life was a secret trust his family kept quietly enfolded in a world that was only partly theirs. This realm was very much out of place in the 21st century.
This was Met’s family.
He watched with weary falcon eyes until the exhaustion and lingering pain became too much. He drifted into an uneasy sleep while the rest of the clan continued to celebrate.
*****
Want to read more? The Price of Gold is available on Amazon.com and as an e-book.

The Prodigal Son- First Chapter

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 21:53:00 +0000

Chapter 1
15 Years Ago

Sarah wiped her eyes as tears began to blur her vision. It had been one of those days when her life just seemed all wrong. She wasn’t sure how much more whining three-year-old and colicky baby she could take.
The problems and tension started the night before, with a fight, actually. She couldn’t remember now how the argument started, but it hadn’t fizzled out until almost two o’clock in the morning, when Jordan silently took his pillow and headed for the couch. Sarah slammed the bedroom door in response and glared at it until retrieving Adam from his crib to be fed at three. She’d calmed down enough by then to lie down and snuggle close, falling asleep while he nursed.
Now, the day that started badly was just getting worse. The sound of breaking glass brought her running to the kitchen to find jam smeared all over the cabinets and counter from Michael’s adventure while she was occupied feeding Adam. The shattered jar and its contents added to the chaos in the middle of the carpeted kitchen floor, and in her mind. Sarah had no idea how she was supposed to get it cleaned up. If she didn’t, their landlord was not going to be happy. But really—who in their right mind would put industrial carpeting in a kitchen in the first place?
Adam promptly threw up all over her as she jostled him a bit too hard while yelling at Michael for making the sticky mess.
Everyone was crying when the phone rang, and Jordan informed her that he would be home late. His voice was cold and he hadn’t even bothered to ask how her day was going before adding to her difficulties. More than anything right now, she could use a listening ear while she vented about her frustrations, but he couldn’t even be counted on to come home and help her at the end of the day.
In desperation, Sarah looked around at the mess in the kitchen and the mess she’d made of her family. She didn’t know where to begin, and she didn’t think she had the energy. After a sleepless night and a lousy day, she’d had enough. Sarah threw a sweatshirt over the wet puke stain on her shirt, put jackets on the boys, and ran from the house. She just wanted to escape.
Now here she was, still crying. Adam also still cried from his place on her hip as she stood and watched Michael run from one end of the playground to the other. At least he was happier again.
Sarah missed Utah—she missed her friends, her sisters, and her mother, who always seemed to put moments like these in perspective. It had been extremely hard on her to move to Arizona eight months ago. She wanted to support Jordan as he began his new job, but leaving her family behind had been difficult. They supported her, eased her burdens, and helped her remember why her roles as a wife, and especially as a mother, were so important.
She loved her children—she did. But she couldn’t help wondering why they tested that love to the limits every day. Sarah wiped away another tear and mentally scolded herself for her attitude. Maybe they aren’t pushing limits, she thought. Maybe they were just normal and she wasn’t cut out to be a mother. She wished she could run away and leave the jam-covered kitchen and her children behind. Even for just a day.
Her gaze wandered while she was feeling sorry for herself. Now, Sarah looked back up to see Michael shrieking with glee as he rocketed down the slide. He landed with such force that his knees buckled out from under him. His head went back, smacking the edge of the metal slide with a loud ka-chunk. In the instant it took Sarah to register what she was seeing, blood began to pour from the back of Michael’s head. It formed a wet, gruesome mess as it spread and mixed with the sand where he lay crumpled at the base of the slide.
Screaming Michael’s name, Sarah hastily set a still-distraught Adam in his stroller and joined the throng of panicked mothers running toward her disoriented son. Someone had the presence of mind to call the paramedics as Sarah frantically pressed Adam’s spit rag to the back of Michael’s head.
The experience began to feel like a dreamy blur. It could have been just minutes, but the tension made it feel like hours. After the paramedics arrived and assured her Michael would be all right, she stood and looked at her surroundings again. Something filled her with unease.
Time warped again, creating an eternity of dread as she began to comprehend what was still wrong with her world.
Adam was no longer crying, and his stroller was gone.
Her vision began to blur all over again, darker than ever, and she heard herself scream his name. It was silly, really. He was only four months old. How is he supposed to answer me? Yet, what else could she do? He had to be somewhere—he couldn’t just be gone. A baby couldn’t just go off on his own, so Sarah needed him to answer.
She began to go through all the possible scenarios.
Maybe his stroller rolled.
Maybe one of the paramedics or other mothers bumped it when they were running to help with Michael.
Maybe someone noticed Adam crying and was trying to comfort him.
“Adam!” she yelled again. Sarah’s thoughts changed to more terrifying possibilities that caused her voice to choke as she forced the word through one more time. “Adam!”
He can’t be gone! I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to him.
Sarah continued to look around, her eyes becoming wild with panic, the questions still jumbling up in her mind. Where can he be?
If someone did bump the stroller, where would it roll? If it did roll, why can’t I see it off in the distance? This is Arizona, for heaven’s sake—there aren’t that many trees and bushes to hide behind!
She began to run with weak legs and heavy feet. She stumbled over the slightest change in terrain, feeling sluggish and clumsy. Her thoughts became more urgent. Not fast enough. She wasn’t moving fast enough to reach him, wherever he was. Where is he?
Sarah circled the play area, calling Adam’s name, stopping other mothers she thought she recognized from the slide incident.
“Did you see my baby? Did you see a stroller? I left it right there!”
She tried to think, to give some details, to find some sort of answer. The other mothers gathered around, asking what they could do to help. She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t remember what Adam was wearing. Had she even changed him out of his sleeper that morning? She wasn’t sure.
She pressed through the crowd of women and continued circling the park, asking everyone she met. “A baby, blond hair, gray eyes, he was crying . . . .”
Some of the women remembered the stroller; some hadn’t even noticed it. No one knew where it went. Other people were looking now, asking questions, calling his name, but Sarah hardly noticed. Adam was hers, her responsibility, and she’d lost him. She had to find him.
Desperate now, she looked in every cubbyhole and tiny crevasse—behind the slide, by the swings, in the tire obstacle course, the trench worn around the merry-go-round, the picnic tables, and the park benches. Sarah circled the playground several times, then her gaze fell on the walking trail. It was the only area of the park with trees. There were pockets of shade along the path. Maybe someone took him there. With a burst of energy that seemed to come directly from her breaking heart, she made a beeline for the trail. No longer thinking clearly at all, her brain chanted ‘find him’ in rhythm with every footfall.
Find him.
Find him.
Find him.
The mantra continued as she raced down the path. Reality didn’t hit again until she realized she was back where she had started.
Her lungs were on fire. She was hoarse from yelling. She was exhausted from the shame she felt asking strangers, over and over again, to help her find her most precious possession. Her muscles trembled. Her tears blurred her vision. Her body betrayed her. She should be able to see him, call him, run to him, reach him, gather him in her arms, and wake up from this nightmare.
Why is this happening to me? Am I such a terrible mother that my child would be taken from me like this? Is God punishing me?
Dear Heavenly Father, I didn’t mean it! I’m so sorry I wished I didn’t have them. Please, please bring Adam back to me!
Suddenly, a thought broke through her panic. Two children. She had two children. For the second time that day, she’d abandoned one in order to help the other. Twice in one day, she’d managed to turn her back on what mattered to her most. An irresistible urge to gather Michael up in her arms overtook Sarah’s already taxed emotions. She needed to get back to him—she had to keep him with her. She had to find Adam, but she shouldn’t have left Michael alone with the paramedics to do it. Additional panic welled up inside her as she rushed back to the playground. What if she’d already been gone too long? What if Michael wasn’t there anymore, either? What if she’d lost them both in one fateful afternoon of wishing?
Relief washed over her as she rounded the corner of the walking trail and saw a confused Michael still sitting with one of the paramedics. She gathered him in her arms and sobbed uncontrollably as the first police officer approached her.

******

Want to read more? The Prodigal Son is available on Amazon.com and as an e-book.

Finding Rose: An LDS Novel by Stephanie Humphreys

noreply@blogger.com (Alison Palmer) — Tue, 23 Nov 2010 20:01:00 +0000

This past week I had the pleasure of reading Finding Rose by Stephanie Humphreys and it was definitely a pleasure. (Isn't the cover pretty?) I’ve been in a bit of a rut lately, or maybe too distracted is the right way to put it. Books have had a hard time really sticking with me. I enjoy them as always, but don’t experience regret or distraction (as I normally would) when I have to put them down and take care of something else. For whatever reason, I’m glad to report Finding Rose was a refreshing change for me.

Finding Rose is a simple romance: a feel good story with enough “stuff” thrown into the plot that I didn’t feel overwhelmed by mush. Yes, the plot was a little transparent, following a standard romance formula; even the subplots were fairly predictable to me. But somehow this wasn’t a bad thing. Finding Rose was sweet, simple, straight forward and exactly what the doctor ordered. It even had a cozy-by-the-winter-fire kind of feel to it. You know- there are summer reads, and there are winter reads. This is a definite snuggle under the covers and take a mini vacation from reality book. It’s worth the few hours it takes to read.

Down sides? Well, it is predictable and it is a romance. It worked for me, but if you’re looking for real stick with you fiction, this may not may the right title for you.

Plus sides? I liked the historical element of Finding Rose. It wasn’t a typical pioneer’s crossing the plains story. Fast forward a few years to a different type of migration. This novel touches on the years immediately surrounding 1900. The historical elements are very light. There are brief looks at what was happening within the LDS Church and the world around. It’s not a history lesson for that sake alone, it’s simply a fun backdrop to the love story.

Need something to help you escape for a few hours this holiday season? Finding Rose by Stephanie Humphreys just might be the answer.

From the back cover:
Will Rose honor her father's last wish?

Rose stood and dropped her father's hand. "You're tired, Papa. She pulled
the quilt over his thin shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. . . .

"Think about what I said." He gently squeezed her hand. "I wish you would
consider giving Miles a chance."

"Miles! I wish Sean had never brought him here. He's so serious. In all the
time he's been here, he's hardly ever smiled. . . . He annoys me and I wish
he would go home." Still, Rose couldn't help but think of his gentleness
when he cared for her father.

On his deathbed, Rose Sterling's father asks her to consider Miles Crandall
as a suitor. Then Rose is sent to live with an uncle in Spring Creek,
Montana, far from her carefree life with her family in Utah. Miles is
returning to his hometown of Spring Creek to set up a medical practice, so
Rose is certain her being sent there is a setup. Yet Miles doesn't seem
interested in her, and after Rose falls ill in Montana, he seems content to
act as her physician and friend. When Rose captures the attention of Miles's
younger, flamboyant brother as well as the town sheriff, Miles retreats even
further from any attempt at courtship.

How can Rose honor her father¹s last wish if Miles doesn't even try to court
her? Will she have the courage to put her heart on the line and fight for
the one she really loves?

Want to win a copy of
Finding Rose? It's easy. Check out
the fabulous reviews and leave a comment letting us know why you're excited
to read Finding Rose. Remember to
include your email address. If you tweet about the blog tour, or post about
it on your blog or facebook, leave the link in the comments section and
you'll receive an additional entry.
November 22
Tristi Pinkston--Tristi Pinkston

November 23
Alison Palmer--Tangled Words and
Dreams

November 24
Taffy Lovell--Taffy's Writing

November 29
Jenn Wilks--Jenn Wilks
Ronda Gibb Hinrichsen--The
Write Blocks

November 30
Amanda Thomson--Maybe Mandi

December 1
Sheila Staley--Why Not?
Because I Said So

December 2
Valerie Ipson--Valerie Ipson

December 3
Christine Bryant--Day
Dreamer