Do you ever wonder what happens behind the curtain? Are you ever curious about what it takes to publish mountains of quality family entertainment and education? I did, and so I flew to Utah for Cedar Fort’s Author Appreciation Dinner.
Not only did Cedar Fort feed us great food and entertain us with wonderful prizes, they gave us a peek behind the curtain and shared what goes on in the Cedar Fort house.
As an author who writes alone on the Oregon Coast, I had never been to the building or met the staff. It was great to see all the support we have.
I don’t know why, but whenever I called the office, I pictured a small office with books stacked in a closet. Boy, was I wrong! Cedar Fort is a talented team whose CEO, a second generation publisher, is putting into place new and exciting ideas to support clean, quality entertainment.
My sister Sara came as my date for the night. We sat with Nikki Zacharias Trionfo, author of “Shatter,” wonderful Cedar Fort family members and more. Table 8 rocked the house.
In honor of my favorite holiday, July 4th, and Safe House’s first birthday on July 11, I am donating 100% of my ebook profits to Operation Underground Railroad and reducing the cost of my ebook to $0.99 for the ENTIRE month of July.
Cedar Fort is supporting the cause and donating 1 signed copy of Safe House to Operation Underground Railroad for their aftercare programs, auctions, or to give away for every 50 ebooks sold during the month of July.
July 4th is my favorite holiday! Since 1921, our family has gathered on the Seaside, Oregon Beach and lit a massive bonfire, made s’mores, and celebrated Independence Day together. So, of course, I want the same for everyone in America, including victims of human trafficking!
Comment below or on my blog, FaceBook page, Instagram, or Twitter, with the word Freedom and I will enter you into a Facebook Live drawing from a jar! One of my beautiful family members will help me on the 4th of July.
Remember, the fight for freedom is far from over. Somewhere out there are children who need us to care. Learn more at OurRescue.org.
And watch for the first annual Seaside, Oregon family fun run on the historic prom on August 18th. I will be there and we will be running to raise funds for Operation Underground Railroad, as well as our local Seaside Sunset Empire Parks & Recreation- providing safe programs for kids!
It is 1 AM and I had to write and tell you, I just typed the last two words I plan to type on my next novel. The End. What lovely words they are! Not only is the story written, but it has been read and re-read.
This morning early, I finished reading my book out loud. I momentarily panicked when I realized several corrections hadn’t been saved, but then I decided it was an opportunity to do it all again, and better.
I could spend every second, or forever, fixing one more thing, trying one more time to make something, anything, just a little better. Perhaps, I will decide later, I should have worked longer or smarter, but for now. Finished.
Because it is better to take the leap of faith than to never leap at all.
My wish? This story becomes another opportunity to serve and give to
Hope Experience Flanagan had to get out of the Rat’s trailer tonight. It made more sense to wait until her 18th birthday, or until the cold Oregon Coast weather warmed, but everything told her the Rat was dangerous and she was out of time.
“Come on Hope! I just want you to watch a movie with me.” the Rat begged from the other side of her locked bedroom door.
“I’m not coming out until Mom’s home!”
“See how nice I am! Your Mom hasn’t been home for weeks and I let you stay with me.”
“Just let me finish my homework,” she said nicely, trying to hide her frustration.
The flimsy bedroom door in the timeworn 1967 Rancho trailer shook angrily. Poised to move, Hope held her breath until it stopped. “You promise?” he yelled.
Finally, she heard the Rat shuffle down the little hall. Five foot one Richard Culligan, ironically known as ‘Rich’ to his friends, and Rat to her, was her mother’s latest partner in a steady stream of companions. Hope hated them all.
The lacey ice on the windows of the Rat’s ancient trailer was as much on the inside in winter as on the outside. The trailer hadn’t moved for more years than Hope had been alive. It was parked in the Yeti Trailer Haven among other molding heaps of aluminum hidden by forest, vines, and foliage which obliterated their existence. Hope thought it was the best part of the coast. Magic green that erased every sign of man if you gave it long enough.
She sat on an old sleeping bag on a bare mattress, headphones in, music playing, when hailstones began pelting the aluminum walls. Gradually the torrent picked up. Larger and larger hailstones assaulted the windows so loudly it broke through her music and then it stopped.
Everything else she owned was packed in her old orange backpack including a Ziploc bag with a picture of her missing mother. Quietly, she pulled back the red rug, moved a loose floorboard, and dropped her pack into the black hole. Then, Hope slid down through the same hole and out from under Rich Culligan’s trailer forever.
Grace James had a smile painted on her face, but her nylons had gradually fallen until she was sure the crotch was at her bony knees and below the hem of her skirt. She had been wearing two hour high heels for four hours and her feet begged for mercy. She stood tall, at the end of her thirties with her long blond hair sprayed into submission on stage next to her boss in the old Victorian Church, now the Bay City Performing Arts Center.
Grace’s boss Eunice had the microphone. Her gray bob looked purple in the spotlight. She took off her bedazzled cat eye glasses, and said to the audience, “Next I want to introduce our senior advocate, Grace James.”
Hailstones started pelting the large stained glass windows in the ancient hall.
Every head turned to look at the row of 20-foot windows lining both sides of the room as a cascade threatened to break through the glass. The echo was deafening and then ended almost as quickly as it started.
World War II is ending, but for Captain Meier, the fight for his life has only begun. Stranded behind enemy lines and tormented by his past, his only ally is a young private who practices a strange American religion. As they travel through treacherous Russia, the two quickly realize they will have to trust in merciful God to have any chance of escaping a deadly fate.
Excerpt from: The Road To Freedom:
A rumbling rose in the distance; it was harsh, mechanized, and unwelcome. He watched as a truck appeared in the west, coming from the town he had just left. Only one. He sighed with relief. He could handle one, and maybe the driver could help him. He pushed himself upright and went to the shoulder of the road and waved. The truck stopped. The driver leaned over and pushed the passenger door open.
“Dobroye utro!” he said. Then, with a shake of his head, he said, “I mean, good morning! Do you need a ride?”
Christoph backed away, suddenly panic-stricken at the sound of the driver’s voice. An instinct surged inside him–primal and violent–triggered by those words, that accent. He tried to push it down, but the anxiety ignited once again at the sound of the truck flaring again. His mind raced and his heart pounded. The driver had offered the ride in broken German, but “dobroye utro” was “good morning” in Russian.
In the late war, every German had learned to fear the Russians. He especially knew that fear. He had survived on it. And now, a Russian was here? Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.
When Shawn asked me to read his book, I didn’t know what to expect. After all, I am a girly girl who likes mystery, romance, and historical fiction. So far, so wonderful and very unexpected.
Shawn’s characters are very three dimensional. I can see the story unfold. Break out a little, and give Shawn’s story a try. I am glad I did.
Shawn and I talked, and I am pleased to share a little author interview with you.
Shawn Pollock, Author
Shawn grew up in Cache Valley, Utah, served a mission in Japan, and graduated from Utah State University with degrees in Professional Writing and Instructional Technology. He works as an instructional designer in the software industry. His short story, “Hats,” won first place in The New Era magazine’s fiction contest. Any time not devoted to work and family goes to cooking, reading about history, and participating in the League of Utah Writers. The Road to Freedom is his first novel.
What inspired you to write about this era?
Well, I have always been fascinated by both World Wars and have a natural interest in Germany. I’m not sure where that comes from because I’ve never been to Germany and I don’t speak German or even know any Germans, but hopefully someday.
I also thought it made for a very fertile place to examine some questions of faith that are also found in the Book of Mormon. How can a man try to stick to values and convictions when he’s in a place where no one shares them and everyone is very war-like and violent? What effect might that have on those around him? Will he change, or will they?
How did you do your research?
I have a large collection of books on World War II, most of which belonged to one of my grandfathers. I got them when he passed away. I also made good use of my library card. So, tons of reading and making notes. I’d been reading about the war for years already anyway, so I started off with a good base.
Your characters are so believable. Are they based on people you know or knew? How did you develop them?
None of my characters are base too specifically on real people. Certain elements of people I know did find their way into the story, though. For example, my grandfather who served in WW2 in Europe was a big guy who lost a lot of weight from endless walking and bad food, so I made that part of Kohler’s character. I also knew a man who got really pouty about things his neighbors did, which became the inspiration for Heinz Kohler.
Other times, little things inspired some of the characters. If you read about the uprising at the Sobibor death camp, Gustav Wagner was one of the meanest, most vicious guard there. I transplanted that idea into the character of Wagner. Likewise, Captain Manteuffel was inspired by Ian Holmes’ performance in the 1979 version of “All Quiet on the Western Front,” which I’ve seen several times.
I made Meier and Kohler as opposite from one another as I could because I knew their growth through the story would show in the ways they played off each other. In an earlier version of the story, Kohler was an experienced sergeant who had been with Meier for a long time. I eventually realized I was just writing the same character twice and changed Kohler into a green private.
What does it mean to be quiet as a church mouse? This charming picture book
shares the story of how one little boy learned to sit still while his imagination
kept running free. With these fun and colorful illustrations, follow along as a
boy and a mouse discover how reverence shows our love and respect for our
Elliott’s Review: Elliott Dickerson, age 6 thinks, “I like it! Because it’s really cool cause it has that mouse that goes to church. I liked its blue jacket. It is really tiny. It was a new mouse who goes to church. I wish I had a mouse in my church bag. I think I can be as quiet as a mouse when I sit in church. I sit with dad on the stage. He leads the music.”
Nana: Do you think the church mouse will help you sit still?
Elliott: Uh huh. Because it is being quiet and I will copy it being quiet.
Nana Shannon’s Review:
I LOVED this story! I want a church mouse in my church bag too! The art is adorable. There is so much to looks at. I also love that it is a based on a childhood moment in the author’s life (We had a little online chat. Read his interview below).
Elliott’s review is totally authentic. I am an amazing typist. I asked him what he thought and the statement above is all his, word for word. The interesting thing is he made the correlation between the cool little church mouse and his reverence. Elliott loves to sing and make car noises. Reverence is a challenge. I wonder what will happen when I remind him to be as quiet as a mouse.
Stephen Bevan imagined his church mouse at age 5. All those wild Sundays of imaginings are distilled in this book. He and his little church mouse lived in
Montgomery County Maryland, until Heavenly Father took them both to Western Australia for many amazing adventures “down under.” Now those two troublemakers reside in beautiful Cache Valley, Utah. On Friday nights they are telling stories and hammock camping with the scouts but each Sunday
morning they are both trying to sit reverently in church with Stephen’s own wonderful and imaginative children. Learn more about Stephen at
www.bevanstories.com, while you are there see what other adventures he and his mouse have to share.
My Author Interview:
Hi Stephen, Is this your first book? Have you written anything before? I grew up with 7 brothers and sisters. Being one of the older children in the family meant I was often the bedtime storyteller. At first, I read stories by others and by the time I was 10, I was writing my own stories for my siblings. Time and teenage years tend to lead you off into new paths for a time. While attending Brigham Young University I majored in Socio-Cultural Anthropology, which included a lot of ethnographic interviewing and writing. I found I loved writing again. Although I have co-written a few research papers no one else has ever read, and a few electronics articles that a few folks have read, my first book is this fun little picture book, Quiet as a Church Mouse.
Can you tell us the story behind your book? When I was a little guy about four years old my father was in the US Navy and he was assigned as a Corpsman to the 3rd Marine Division in Okinawa, Japan. For the next two years, my Dad would be off with the Marines and my Mom was left in Maryland with five children and one on the way! We didn’t even have a car. Nevertheless, my diligent and faithful Mother got up every Sunday morning, fed us, dressed us, and then walked the mile to church. You would think that after walking a mile a four-year-old boy might be tired enough to sit still in church, but not me. I was crazy! Army crawling under the pews, hanging from door frames I had climbed etc. My poor mother had her hands full and everywhere I went my little brother followed. One day my saintly Mother asked me to be as quiet as a church mouse, and I could not help but wonder why I had never seen one of these church mice in all my wanderings through the building? I began to sit very still in hopes of seeing and catching a church mouse as a pet. I tried to imagine what a church mouse might do. Somewhere along the way, I began to hear the words from the pulpit and more importantly feel what those words meant. I began to see Christ for the first time.
Are any of the characters patterned after someone you know? The characters in the book are really me and my family. That little boy who finally learns to sit reverently was me. And those two siblings in the book represent my five younger siblings. Though I do tease one of my sisters that the little girl not paying attention is her!
If you have children, and they go to church, what other things have you done to help them understand why reverence is important in their Heavenly Father’s house? I have seven lovely children who sometimes are more like their me than I could have ever imagined. We have tried to teach them reverence by helping them see the bigger picture. We have never shied away from teaching them of Heavenly Father’s plan. I guess I might be considered a mean Dad, but we just don’t do Cheerios at church– we do have a few books, and a paper where they can write or draw things they are hearing, but they can’t just doodle pictures of dogs and cats. We expect them to listen and they know they will get asked at dinner, “what did you learn today and how can you apply it to your life.” It can be fun to hear the responses from children at 3 or at 14. They see things in God’s plan that sometimes I overlook so sometimes they teach me!
One thing that my children enjoy is as the music plays before the service starts I like to doodle a scripture or gospel scene on the offering envelope, and then incorporate in a scripture. They have taken to decorating their own tithing/offering envelopes.
“Whom shall he teach knowledge? and whom shall he make to understand doctrine? …For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little, and there a little… ”
Isaiah 28: 9-10
My Grandmother, my father, my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, and I all walked on this wall along the sea, and now my children’s children walk the same wall. Each one of us learned to walk the wall holding a grown-up’s hand until we all insisted on letting go. Step by step, starting with our first baby steps we learned and grew.
Seaside summer evenings were often spent walking as a family to the ice-cream shop. Twenty or more of us strung out along the promenade or Prom on the beach laughing, chasing children, holding our lover’s hands, pushing baby strollers, or watching our parents, aunts, and uncles smile and talk.
We learned about more than how to balance on a cement wall by the sea. We learned trusted loved ones had rules because they cared about us. We learned through quiet conversations on the mile-long walk to town for ice-cream. We learned by watching the grown-ups hold hands and treat each other with respect. The journey was so much more than a walk on the wall. We were building little people and a large family.
Life is a lot like our walks by the sea. It looks like you are doing dishes, going on a diet, teaching your children how to plant a garden, but you are actually doing something much deeper and wider, you are building love, trust, identity, connection, and a family.
A month ago, I committed to making some health changes. I was going on a cleanse. It absolutely made me giggle. For the first time in my life, I joined a group, bought some shakes, and began a sugar fast. All the laughter covered my terror. Remember, I am the girl on the prom wall. All our major childhood accomplishments were followed by dessert or sweet reward, and family gatherings always had food.
I set a goal. One month without refined sugar, caffeine (Diet coke which always led to needing Hot Tamales and a bucket of popcorn), as well as a TON of other foods like corn, honey, potatoes, and soy that I wouldn’t eat.
A few days ago, I finished the month! I was changed. Did I look different? Was I thinner and prettier? No. Was I changed? Absolutely. But the change was on the inside. I felt healthier. I had gained the strength that comes from setting out to accomplish something, anything, and finishing it. The sense of self-worth that comes from seeing something through, especially when it is difficult. I had endured with honor.
Just like the walk on the Prom, it looked simple, fun and easy but the results I hope will be much deeper than improved health today. Years down the road, I hope I look back and find I am grateful for the things I chose to change, the lessons I learned along the way, and the blessing of inner strength that comes from striving to be just a tiny bit better each day.
Every step we take is a choice. Even when we try to take random road trips through life, we are making a choice. But when we choose a direction and take one small step after another toward our goal we just might find we reach not only reach our destination, we have changed along the way.
Special thanks to Hilary and the group at Designing Health. I may stumble and I may fall, but I have a new network of friends headed the same direction. See you all at the Salad Bar!
My change journey. I believe after all these years, I have finally found my area of expertise, rising after failure. Actually, I am no expert on change or life. I am just a struggling author who has searched for ways to climb the rugged terrain of life and reach just a little higher every day, or at least be willing to fall flat on my face as I try. Somedays I rise, and other days I eat dirt and contemplate the universe. Right now, I am pondering change.
2010 Before the journey
Here are some of the things I have learned on the way:
This spring I picked a small change, and yet a change I have never been able to conquer. I decided to give up refined sugar for at least one month and hopefully eat about 32 tons less a year for my lifetime.
Because change is so emotionally charged and can be so difficult, businesses everywhere practice something called change management. Simple but useful ways to roll out change which can work surprisingly well in the business of family and self-improvement.
Tips and tricks for managing change in your life (And the way I stumbled through mine!):
1. Clearly define your reasons for making a change. Make a list of why this change is important to you. A sense of urgency or importance can motivate us to follow through. For example, finding out you have high blood pressure or are close to a disease like diabetes can become your motivation for that diet you have always wanted to go on, but couldn’t quite walk past gelato.
In my life, I have had many motivators for change. Sometimes my motivations come from a sincere desire to improve myself and other times they come at me like a freight train and run me over, like finding out your husbands company is closing and you are going to have to change the way you pay your bills. Wherever the need comes from, what you chose to change and the direction you take is up to you.
2. Plan your strategy. Map out your change. You can either take it in big bites or little baby steps. Put in in writing and hang it somewhere you can revisit and rework it as you progress. If you are like me and use your phone or computer more than paper, make a note or calendar invites to remind you of the path you have chosen.
Be sure to include rewards in your plan. For example, if you decide you want to go back to school, plan a reward of a movie out with friends after you complete your enrollment forms. Then plan a weekend away after you pass your first finals. When I returned to school, with 5 kids at home, my finals reward was a night at the laundry mat to get caught up and I loved it.
3. Start by changing your environment. If you have decided it is time to diet, start by cleaning the ice-cream out of the freezer. Toss any temptation with vigor and remove barriers to your success. If you have decided to stop a major habit like smoking, but find hanging out with your friends leads to smoking with them, consider adding friends to your circle who don’t smoke.
In a positive way add what you need to your environment. Shop for healthy foods and buy those cute workout outfits you have always wanted. Big changes may require big reminders all around you. Small changes can start with baby steps. If you have clothes in 15 sizes and have successfully completed a diet, gift your clothes to someone in need and spend time rewarding yourself with a clean closet where workout clothes are always ready to go.
4. Build consensus. Sometimes together is better. Explain to your family and friends why this change is so important to you. Let your close friends in on your sense of urgency and ask them for support. Tell them specific ways they can help. For example, instead of saying to your husband, “Don’t buy Ice-cream.” Tell him ways he can support you like, “Let’s find all the healthy restaurants in town,” and, “Let’s take a healthy cooking class together.” Try to get buy-in.
This is a great time to investigate groups, classes, education, or anything that will help keep you focused and give you support. When I decided to spend the first month of my life without refined sugar, I joined a cleanse group. Not only were they knowledgeable, but they were fun! Our leader gave us information while we laughed at our struggles and supported each other. We even used acupuncture in a group and it was a hit! I will miss the group when it is over.
Ask for help. For example, if you have decided you want to start working out by walking every morning, enlist friends. It is a lot easier and safer to walk in the early morning hours in a group than it is to walk alone. And, if you know your friend is waiting for you on the corner, you are more likely to walk even when the weather is bad.
5. Remember balance. If you are planning to take something away, be sure to replace it with something healthy. For example, if you decide to give up midnight snacking, create a midnight bath and book routine to take the place of your friend chocolate.
7. Sustain and evaluate your change. Give yourself permission to care for yourself. When you choose to grow and improve, your children and hopefully your extended family will grow and learn by watching and supporting you. Any positive change can be good for others and is not time wasted. Map out ways to integrate your new found strengths into your daily life for the long haul. If you have lost weight, plan ways to sustain your new healthy lifestyle. If you have given up a bad habit, plan good habits to take their place.
If you fail, no problem! Revisit the need and make a new game plan. Sometimes we make a change, and we decide to change back. I remember in my twenties thinking I wanted to be on my own, but when I brought my first tiny baby home, I wanted my mother (At least for a few days).
8. Accept defeat as a learning experience. You are always better for having tried. I promise you have learned something. We all fail. I have lost count of the number of times I have failed. We had a standing family joke when I was growing up, “We will start that diet…Monday!” Diets may be an easy lift for you and feel insurmountable to others.
I remember my abject terror when I first approached a college campus, and I remember feeling like a failure when I had to step out of classes to care for my family. Life is ups and downs, but hopefully, the rolling hills will gradually raise you to where you want to be. And if not, my guess is your view during the journey will be spectacular. I personally feel the place I stand right now is just a pause on the journey. My struggles and hard work, coupled with my higher power has brought me to this place, and the view is spectacular.
Change is a risk. I hope your risk has great returns.
Look around our world and see how God feels about perfection. There are no two mountains in the world that are exactly the same. There isn’t a wave that washes onto the sand that is the same as another. Every human has his own face, hair, skin, heart, height, weight, and singularly individual soul. Every mother knows her child’s unique cry. This is His work and His glory and He is perfect.
As humans, we seek the rare, the unique, the unusual and call it treasure. One of a kind is desirable. Art which is symmetrical, balanced, perfect, with one red flower in the center or one tree in the middle of the painting is called static or in my opinion baren, without joy, bland, and boring. The most beautiful models in the world have something unique about their face, large lips, large eyes, or an odd nose.
Olympic athletes recently tried to make perfect time, perfect movements, and perfect scores. All worthy goals. The entire world held their breath as ice-skaters reached for perfection, ached when they fell, celebrated when they succeeded. Perfection is a worthy direction, but failure doesn’t mean we are lost.
In a recent talk by my favorite LDS speaker Jeffrey R. Holland titled, “Be Ye Therefore Perfect – Eventually,” he reminded us all that, “If we persevere, then somewhere in the eternities our refinement will be finished and complete.” He admonishes us to seek steady and healthy self-improvement without the self-loathing, eating disorders, general misery, and toxic perfectionism.
But what is perfection?
Today my grandson, seven-year-old Elliott gained a new scar on his forehead and a trip to the emergency room. His mother sent a group text and his uncle drove two hours to help, his father came home, his Nana made dinner, and his family all over the world sent love and looked at his new imperfection. In my world, the love that was shown Elliott was perfect.
Holland said of the Savior, “I testify that in this and every hour He is, with nail-scarred hands, extending to us that same grace, holding on to us and encouraging us, refusing to let us go until we are safely home in the embrace of Heavenly Parents. For such a perfect moment, I continue to strive, however clumsily. For such a perfect gift, I continue to give thanks, however inadequately. I do so in the very name of Perfection itself, of Him who has never been clumsy or inadequate but who loves all of us who are, even the Lord Jesus Christ….”
Storms roll into the Pacific Northwest Coast and change the beach, the trees, our world in minutes. I don’t know about you, but I love to watch a good storm. The power of the wind and water change rolling dunes to flat sand or new cliffs. Trees are tested, dead branches are torn from trunks, deep roots hold while others give way.
Today I ran the beach after the storm. Everything was wiped clean. Logs had been washed into the dunes and it was a new and different kind of beautiful.
Storms of all shapes and sizes roll through our lives, test our roots and strengthen us as we wrestle with the wind. Storms can change us in minutes. I think they can leave us a new kind of beautiful, molded by experience.
Isn’t it interesting that the creator of this world didn’t create manicured lawns with perfect white picket fences? He created majestic mountains, raging oceans, cascading waterfalls, frozen tundras, and storms. His creation is a work in progress. Storms still change it daily.
How many times have I stood looking in a mirror for an imperfection, a new wrinkle, a misplaced curl, signs of my storms? How many hours have I wasted angry at the storm?
Today, I worked on embracing all my imperfections as visible signs of the storms in my life. I believe in goals and choosing the direction of my journey, but I also believe in having compassion for myself.
I may have been broken by storms, shaped into someone new, changed forever, but I like what I have become. I am a testimony of endurance. One more day, I choose to lean into the wind and journey on.