Author Interview: Terri Ferran

I'm delighted to be the lead post to begin the Book Blog Tour for  Terri Ferran's latest novel, Choosing Charity. The novel will launch on August 11.

Terri writes LDS Inspirational Fiction. She grew up in a small Colorado town that offered little in the way of entertainment. She escaped through reading (and later on a Continental Trailways bus), and although the town didn't have a library, she eagerly anticipated the coming of the Bookmobile and would check out stacks of books at a time. 

Moving to Utah as a high school senior, Terri joined the LDS Church and met her husband, Tod. She dreamed of being a writer but took the safe route of becoming a CPA. She finally got brave enough to quit working in the world of numbers to pursue her dream of writing and also to spend more time with her children. Her first book, Finding Faith, was published in 2007 and she is excited to be living her dream of writing in real life.

Terri still loves to read, but she can usually be found writing, doing laundry, dishes, running errands, napping, eating chocolate, or exercising (not necessarily in that order).

Here is information on the Choosing Charity Book Launch party on August 11:

Choosing Charity is the third book in the Faith, Hope and Charity trilogy, following Having Hope. Here's the novel's description:

When Kit learns that her biological mother wants to meet her, it seems her perfect life is about to come tumbling down. With a new job, a husband she adores, and friends all around her, can Kit possibly be expected to risk everything for a woman who left her in a dumpster to die?

Of course, love comes in many forms. Now Kit's about to learn that when faith and hope aren't enough, charity can make things right.

Terri, how long have you been writing and what made you start?
    I was about three, and I’d have to blame that unattended box of crayons and the blank wall begging for graffiti.

You would think with that beginning, you would write children's books. What type of writer are you? Do you plan ahead/plot or do you simply fly by the seat of your pants?
    I’ve tried both methods. One book that is currently plotted out in its entirety on a white board in my office remains unwritten. My current WIP changes as I re-read the scribbles I’ve made while waiting for things—the plane to take off, the light to change, the officer to finish writing the ticket.

I have a book like that, too. Plotting in detail seems to derail my ideas. How do you choose your characters' names?
    The main character’s name usually comes first as part of the idea of the book. For the supporting characters I start with a random name which almost always changes as the character develops.

What is your daily schedule like?
    A lot of procrastination peppered liberally with checking email, random tasks (e.g. cleaning the gum from under the desk), and self-recrimination that I wasted another day. I usually start writing in earnest about thirty minutes before my husband gets home from work so I can’t be interrupted by stopping to make dinner. He is really good at making spaghetti.

Where do you get your inspiration to write?
    If I wait for inspiration, I never write. I’ve found I have to make myself sit down and start the process. A few minutes (or hours) into it, the words begin to flow, and then it feels inspired and I get that rush of having created something. 

Do you write with music playing? If so, is the music likely to be songs with lyrics or only instrumentals?
    No music. I have noise sensitivity. I would even duct tape my children’s mouths shut if they didn’t hide the duct tape and didn’t run faster than me.

What food or snack keeps the words flowing?
    Diet Coke

How did you break into publishing?
    After writing my first “inspired” book, my first rejection was from Deseret Book (I’m pretty sure Lisa Mangum was having an off day!), followed by a rejection from a couple of other publishers. I put the manuscript away for about six months figuring it would never be published. I was reading Julie Wright’s book To Catch a Falling Star, and it reminded me of my book so I looked at the publisher. It was Cedar Fort—a publisher I hadn’t submitted to. I sent it to them and they accepted it!

What surprised you the most about being a published author?
    The unrelenting fame, money, and constant hounding by the paparazzi. Or maybe just how little money you actually make. I get the two confused.

Ha ha ha! What do you like to do when you're not writing?
    I love to go boating with my family, read, and spoil my grandchildren.

Thank you, Terri.

To find out more about Terri, visit her website here.
Other Books in the Series:

Finding Faith (#1)
Having Hope (#2)

Purchase links for Choosing Charity:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Cedar Fort

As part of her blog tour, Terri is generously offering a grand prize giveaway of the Faith, Hope, and Charity trilogy, including hard copies of Finding Faith, Having Hope, and Choosing Charity. All you have to do to enter is leave a comment on this post or any of the other stops on the tour. (Visit the tour page for the full tour schedule.) The more stops you comment on, the more entries you have into the contest!

The Curmudgeon Applauds

I came across a recent post by Writer's Digest's Brian A. Klems, wherein he praises the CEO of iFixit.com, Kyle Wiens, for standing up for grammar in a piece he wrote recently for the Harvard Business Review. Mr. Klems wrote that when he read the Wiens piece, he began to applaud at his desk.

Mr. Wiens explains that "Good grammar is credibility, especially on the Internet."

I recommend both articles to you.

I let The Curmudgeon out of his dungeon for a brief time so he could join us in the applause.

(cracking whip) Get back in there, you rascal!

Sweet Saturday Samples - July 28, 2012

Welcome to Sweet Saturday Samples. Today is National Day of the Cowboy. If you see a cowboy, shake his hand. If you married one, give him a great big kiss!

I'm featuring three bit players in Spinster's Folly here. I hope you enjoy this short scene.
~~~

Patricio and Enrique had almost reached the bunkhouse with their bedrolls when Albert stepped into their path. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure none of the hands were in sight, and said, "I saw what you did. Teach me that trick."

The brothers looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and made as though they would walk around Albert, but he forestalled them by acting out his demand.

"I saw you," he said, pointing to himself and then to his eye. Then he pulled on his shirt sleeve and appeared to be putting something into it. "I saw the trick," he repeated. "I want to know how you done it."

"No, muchacho," said Patricio in a patronizing voice. "No hize nada." He tried again, in his muddled English this time, but his tone was still superior. "I do nothing."

"Don't you go lyin' to me. I saw that two card drop. You're a card sharp."

"No soy trampista," Patricio declared. "I no cheet."

"Yes you did. Teach me, en-sen-yar-meh, or I'll tell Mr. Henry you're a crook."

Patricio looked at his brother and shrugged, then addressed himself to Albert. "Come leetle boy. I teech."
~~~

Thank you for visiting. Come back every Saturday for more samples. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors enjoy comments as much as I do, so don't be shy.

Copyright 2012 Marsha Ward

Sweet Saturday Samples - July 21, 2012

Welcome to Sweet Saturday Samples. I am excited to announce that this week I finished the first draft of Spinster's Folly! Of course I've done a Happy Dance all around the house. I'm now sending it out to those who will be my Readers to help me spot the cosmetic and content lapses. Once I get their input, I'll do revisions.

Today I'm sharing a scene I wrote to fill in an event that needed to happen. I hope you enjoy it.

~~~

Marie climbed off the stool that stood in front of the kitchen shelf and turned to see Ma through the open door, shading her eyes and gazing into the distance.

What's she lookin' at? she wondered, and called to her sister in the loft. "Jule, go find out what's got Ma standin' like a tree in the dooryard."

"Go see for yourself," her sister refused. "I'm busy. These sheets are all tangled. Mr. Henry didn't fold them right."

"Well, he's a man. A body can't expect him to know how." She abandoned her attempt to cajole her sister into running her own errand, picked up the wash tub and stepped to the door.

She flung the water onto the dusty soil, then put down the tub and approached her mother.

"Someone's a-comin'," Ma told Marie, as though she had eyes in the back of her head to see her. "Drivin' a wagon."

"Settlers?" There was still land to be had south of here. Perhaps they would have new neighbors.

"I don't reckon. I only see the one soul on the seat."

"Hmm," Marie replied. "There's something shiny hanging on the side."

"I see it. Copper?"

"Might be."

"Is that a pot?"

Marie shaded her own eyes, then said, "That it would appear."

The person on the wagon seat drew near enough they could make out that it was a man with a dark, swarthy face and felt hat pulled over his brow. As he come closer, he began to sing a song about the goods he had to sell.

"A peddler? We've got a peddler comin'! Girl, we'll get you the necessaries for your marriage after all." Ma's smiled brightened her face.

That's . . . good," Marie said, and hoped her voice didn't sound as disheartened as she felt.

The man came on, driving his wagon and singing his song, until he pulled up the horse, and pots and pans covering the outside of the vehicle clattered and clanged as they settled to a stop.

Julianna came out of the house and joined them. Ma put her arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Welcome," she said to the man, her voice reflecting her good cheer. "Climb down and take a rest."

"I do not mind if I do," the man replied, suiting his actions to his words, and tipping his hat to Marie and Ma once he was on the ground. His lean face cracked a wide smile. "I am Raphael, ladies, and I wish you good morning."

"And a good morning to you, sir," Ma said, her smile rivaling that of the peddler man. "Can I get you breakfast?"

"No, no, I've feasted long since, madam." He looked around. "A tidy homestead you have here."

"This is Owen land, sir. My mister is called Roderick Owen, and there was never a harder worker than he."

"Indeed. Indeed," said the peddler with one name. "I have wares to sell today. Pots, both copper and iron. Muslin and linsey-woolsey by the bolt or by the yard. Scissors, needles, and pins. Foodstuffs in tinned vessels. Beans and bacon. Sacks of salt and vials of spices. Knives and flatware and tableware. Sharpening stones, grinding stones, and stones for the chickens' gizzards. Chickens and rabbits, if you have none. Liniment and ointment and salves to soften your skin and draw your splinters. And trinkets. Mirrors and ribbons and lace. Bonnets and feathers and lockets and rings. Cushions for your chairs or for your footstools. What do you need to buy?"

"I'll be trading for a beef cow, butchered or on the hoof."

"I will trade," the man agreed. "Live on the hoof will suffice."

"Good." She turned to Julianna. "Daughter, go for your pa. Tell him a trader's come, and I need a cow."

"Yes ma'am," she said, and ran toward the mountain.

"Now then, tell me when I've reached the worth of a good beef cow. I need sharp kitchen knives. Utensils. Tableware for two. A pot and a spider, both iron. Bed linens. Ticking for pillows." Ma continued with a list of necessaries, and the peddler pulled out a note pad and pencil to jot down her wants. Then he began to fill her order, making a pile beside the door. Marie slipped into the house and put the wash tub away, her mind unsettled by the tangible evidence of her coming change of circumstances.

~~~

Thank you for visiting. Come back every Saturday for more samples. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors enjoy comments as much as I do, so don't be shy.

Copyright 2012 Marsha Ward

Book Review: The Recruit, Cindy Grantham Brown

Recently, I read The Recruit, a debut novel written by Cindy Grantham Brown. Ms. Brown grew up in and around Memphis, Tennessee, and began writing stories in the third or fourth grade—in an attempt to avoid reading books for book reports. Instead, she would read the summaries, imagine her own versions of the books, and write reports that received high grades. She got away with this by seeking out books by "Author Unknown," which teachers wouldn't be able to find to check the story line.

This tactic failed her in the 10th grade, when the entire class had to read the same autobiography and write reports. Failing to turn in a report, she flunked the class. Yes, she went to summer school to make it up so she could advance to 11th grade.

Ms. Brown now resides in Arkansas with her husband. Five of her six children are married, and the Browns have eight grandchildren.

I was approached to review The Recruit, and agreed to do so after I had a look at the Amazon page, but I wasn't sure what kind of book it was. The description said it was a novel, but I couldn't tell the category. Was it Young Adult, general fiction, or something else? As I dug deeper, I learned it was a semi-autobiographical work that talked about biker gangs, and I had a few doubts about what I had gotten myself into. How raw was this going to be? I asked myself.

I took a leap of faith, and resolved to read it.

Here's the back cover description:

The Recruit will take you on the ride of your life!

Jess Talbot has already seen sorrow in her young life. Now one bad decision will destroy her dignity – will she also pay with her life?

At the age of twenty-one she is recovering from the breakup of her marriage. In an effort to get back into the social scene she hangs out at a Memphis, Tennessee park along with other rebellious teens and young adults. Here she meets her newest friend, Lisa Burns, who likes to party and hang out with bad boy bikers. Vulnerable and naïve, Jess goes with Lisa to a Kentucky MotoCross Rally for the weekend – which turns out to be anything but the fun, safe weekend she had imagined.

Unknown to Jess, Lisa is an initiate into a biker gang, the worst of its kind. Her job is to find that special girl who will be this year’s recruit. Will Jess figure out what dangers are prepared for her? Will she be forever scarred by her devastating decision to spend the weekend with Lisa and her friends? Will she escape or will the results be deadly for Jess…

Through the Grace of God, Cindy Grantham Brown survived the devastating events that this story is based upon. She now tells the fictionalized tale in the hopes that others will never have to face the possibility she did – that of a horrible and painful death; murder at the hands of an evil biker gang.

I'm glad I read The Recruit. Although the formatting is a bit unconventional, and I would have wanted more depth of characterization for some of the characters, the spell of the story caught me, and I couldn't put the book down. Ms. Brown doesn't share details of the horrific things she/Jess went through in a graphic way, which relieved my trepidation on that count. It was written from the mind set of a woman who has come to know Jesus Christ and his grace the hard way, and wants to keep other young women from making the same mistakes and wrong choices that she did.
 
Thank you, Cindy Brown, for a poignant novel. The Recruit can be found on Amazon in both print and Kindle formats.

Fascination Award? No Thank You

On Monday I received an email notice that a post on this blog had caused it to be nominated for a "Fascination Award" in the category of "2012's Most Fascinating Creative Writing Teacher blog." "That's nice," I said to myself. Then, before I got all giddy and jumped around the room (I had better things to do that day, such as finish writing the first draft of Spinster's Folly), I did a Google web search on the Fascination Awards. An entry on the list caught my eye, so I clicked over to the Tai-Wiki-Widbee blog to learn why the proprietor thereof had declined the award. He or she gave compelling reasons why I did not wish to help spread the word, nor ask my readers to "vote" for me, and otherwise divert my attention from what is more important in my daily routine.

Basically, if I put up the "badge" denoting that my blog had been nominated, the link would go to a site that is ultimately involved in funneling students to private online institutions of higher learning that, as I see it from the perspective of having a friend in that industry who is desperately trying to get out of it, serves mostly to separate a student from their student loan money. Tax-payer-provided student loan money that saddles a student with debt for years, if not decades, to come.

My friend sees "doctoral degree" students, who, he or she says, can scarcely string three coherent words together. Draw your own conclusions as to the efficacy or scruples of such programs after you click the links included in Tai-Wiki-Widbee's post.

And that, folks, is why I'm also declining the Fascination Award.

Good News

I have good news. I have finished the first draft of Spinster's Folly. Now I will send it to several readers, who will help me spot any problems with plot, consistency, misspellings, typos, etc. I've quite pleased, as I hope you are.

Sweet Saturday Samples - July 14, 2012

Welcome to Sweet Saturday Samples. I'm soextremelyclose to finishing the first draft of Spinster's Folly that I expect to do so this weekend. For your enjoyment, here a scene where Bill Henry runs into a bit of trouble.
~~~

Several days went by, as the cowhands engaged in their unfamiliar logging task. It wasn't like they were alone doing the chore, Bill reflected. The Owen brothers matched the hands tree for tree. Even the Old Man pitched in. The only Owens not turning up for the work were Carl, who was taking his ease with a new bride while he recovered his health, and James, who had quit the place just in time to avoid this spate of labor.

Well now, that's not fair of me. Mining's no easy task. His axe thumped solidly into the pine trunk he was undercutting. As he worked, he likened his own situation with the fairer sex to that of James, whose fiancee had married another man, and worse still, his own brother. He wondered if the young man would ever reconcile himself with his father. I don't reckon he will. Rod Owen can be a hard man. He loosed his axe from the tree and stood it upright, leaning on the end of the handle for a brief respite.

It was that hard man's words that haunted him. I'm matchin' my girl up with a Virginia boy. Bill wondered if the match had been made, for Miss Marie had come home in a mighty sour mood, and she hadn't yet shook it off. Had the Old Man's matchmaking gone awry?

"Hey, Henry. Hey! You sleepin'? Shake your tail!"

Bill looked up to see a tree falling toward him, and he turned and ran from death.

The pine hit the earth where he'd been standing, limbs crashing and tearing, and bounced once before it settled amid a cloud of dust and pine needles.

He bent over, hands on his knees, and panted, trying to catch a breath, coughing out the dust he inhaled along with the air, shaken by the close call. With his heart drumming in his ears, he could barely hear Chico razzing him, Rulon's concerned voice, and Bertie's cat calls.

Chico sprinted to his side, his white face belying the curses he let fall upon Bill's head. "You got a death wish, hombre? Git your head outta the clouds and pay heed!"

An out-breathed "Yeah," was all Bill could respond, as he tried to will his heart to slow to a normal rate. He still felt the evil swish of a branch clipping his rear as he tried to get out of the way.

"Close," came Rulon's voice above him. It had a slight quiver to it.

"Yeah," Bill said again, not able or willing to speak more for fear of hearing his own voice break.

He raised himself up, feeling Rulon's light touch on one shoulder at the same time as Chico belted him on the opposite arm.

"Ow! I got clear of the tree, and you want to make me dead?" Anger firmed up his voice, and he fended off Chico's next punch as Rulon walked away.

"Oh, git over there and pick up your axe," Chico countered.

"You the segundo now?"

"If you're dead, I'm the next man for the job."

"That's a likely tale," Bill muttered, but picked up the tool and went back to work.
~~~

Thank you for visiting. Come back every Saturday for more samples. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors enjoy comments as much as I do, so don't be shy.

Copyright 2012 Marsha Ward

So you think you want to write a book, or Am I Nuts?

If I weren't so close to finishing up the first draft of my work in progress, Spinster's Folly, I think I would fold my hand and pull out of the game. (Oooo, poker talk!)

You see, I believe I am getting waaaaay too distracted over whether or not it's raining on whichever day. Not because it's important to my current story. If it is important, I put it in. However, I'm also trying my hardest to correlate the weather in this book to a previously published one.

This is holding me back from writing freely.

Who cares what the weather is? I mean, who among my potential readers will care a fig if it snowed on Monday and cleared up on Tuesday in Ride to Raton? They'll be reading Spinster's Folly, for crying out loud!

Right?

In the meantime, here are some of the tools I use to keep me on track with a lot of other things as I write this novel:

Maps, calendars, spreadsheets, resource books, my "Marie's Book" notebook, scene summaries, printouts. Whew!

Voluminous notes to myself.

A to-write list, reminders, and a handwritten scene.

Notations, bits of dialogue, motivations.

Should I finish the novel, or give it the ol' heave ho?

A recent scene from Spinster's Folly

I continue to write and to edit a bit as I go. I cannot promise this scene will be exactly like this when the book appears. However, the first draft is about 95% finished, so I'm making great progress.

~~~

Several days went by, as the cowhands engaged in their unfamiliar logging task. It wasn't like they were alone doing the chore, Bill reflected. The Owen brothers matched the hands tree for tree. Even the Old Man pitched in. The only Owens not turning up for the work were Carl, who was taking his ease with a new bride while he recovered his health, and James, who had quit the place just in time to avoid this spate of labor.

Well now, that's not fair of me. Mining's no easy task. His axe thumped solidly into the pine trunk he was undercutting. As he worked, he likened his own situation with the fairer sex to that of James, whose fiancee had married another man, and worse still, his own brother. He wondered if the young man would ever reconcile himself with his father. I don't reckon he will. Rod Owen can be a hard man. He loosed his axe from the tree and stood it upright, leaning on the end of the handle for a brief respite.

It was that hard man's words that haunted him. I'm matchin' my girl up with a Virginia boy. Bill wondered if the match had been made, for Miss Marie had come home in a mighty sour mood, and she hadn't yet shook it off. Had the Old Man's matchmaking gone awry?

"Hey, Henry. Hey! You sleepin'? Shake your tail!"

Bill looked up to see a tree falling toward him, and he turned and ran from death.

The pine hit the earth where he'd been standing, limbs crashing and tearing, and bounced once before it settled amid a cloud of dust and pine needles.

He bent over, hands on his knees, and panted, trying to catch a breath, coughing out the dust he inhaled along with the air, shaken by the close call. With his heart thrumming in his ears, he could barely hear Chico razzing him, Rulon's concerned voice, and Albert's cat calls.

Chico sprinted to his side, his white face belying the curses he let fall upon Bill's head.
"You got a death wish, hombre? Git your head outta the clouds and pay heed!"

An out-breathed "Yeah," was all Bill could respond, as he tried to will his heart to slow to a normal rate. He still felt the evil swish of a branch clipping his rear as he tried to get out of the way.

"Close," came Rulon's voice above him. It had a slight quiver to it.

"Yeah," Bill said again, not able or willing to speak more for fear of hearing his own voice break.

He raised himself up, feeling Rulon's light touch on one shoulder at the same time as Chico belted him on the opposite arm.

"Ow! I got clear of the tree, and you want to make me dead?" Anger firmed up his voice, and he fended off Chico's next punch as Rulon walked away.

"Oh, git over there and pick up your axe," Chico countered.

"You the segundo now?"

"If you're dead, I'm the next man for the job."

"That's a likely tale," Bill muttered, but picked up the tool and went back to work.
~~~

Copyright 2012 Marsha Ward

Sweet Saturday Sample - July 7, 2012

Welcome to Sweet Saturday Samples. I'm thisclose to finishing the first draft of Spinster's Folly. It shouldn't be long before I can write "The End" on the thing and send it out to my beta readers.

With that, here's a scene I wrote this week, one where I was doing a bit of backfilling:

~~~

Bill had one leg raised with a foot in the stirrup, about to step into the saddle, when Rod Owen hailed him.

"Henry!"

Bill had to extract his foot in a hurry. The Old Man's stident tone had upset his mount and it took to bucking, almost getting a chance to drag Bill.

Once he'd got two feet on solid ground, he turned to his employer, hoping the anger he felt wasn't showing on his visage.

"Glad I caught you," Rod said. "I have a new task for you and the hands. I'm building a barn come a month, and we all need to cut timber for the sides. Pine logs. Cut 'em to size, too. Twelve foot, I reckon. Here's the plan." He handed Bill a sheet of paper with figures written on one side and a drawing on the other. "We'll drag the logs out of the woods and stack them there." He gestured toward his chosen spot. "When folks gather to help us with the raising, I want the logs right at hand."

"Lots of folks?"

"I'm spreading the word through the country."

Bill looked over the paper. "Plan for logging," it said. Logging? I have no experience of that chore.

His doubts must have shown on his face because the Old Man asked, "You've all cut trees before?"

"In Texas? We was lucky when we had mesquite and cedar. Some live oak. Nothing like pine in my part of the country."

Rod shrugged. "The same principle applies to cutting one tree as another. Rulon will show you where to begin."

Bill shook his head as the Old Man walked away. The cows needed tending to, but that didn't seem to matter. Logging was number one on Rod Owen's chore list.

Bill put on speed to get to where Chico and Sourdough were saddling up. He explained the change in plans, tapping the paper he still held.

"What's that? You want us chopping down trees?"

Bill watched Chico roll his eyes and groan at the news. He felt the same, but wasn't going to mention that fact to the cowhand. "It won't last long. We'll be done in a month."

"A month? Thirty days of hard labor on our feet?"

"We'll take Sundays off."

"They won't come near fast enough. I'll get calluses on my feet, never you mind the blisters I'll raise on my pretty hands. Have to soak 'em every night."

"You have a queja, take it to the Boss."

"Not me. That's your job. I signed on to work cattle, not make my complaint to the Old Man."

"Shut your mouth and get an axe. Rulon's in charge of the tree felling."

Chico swore mildly. "What's Old Man Owen want with a bunch of logs?"

Bill snorted. "The paper says he's fixin' to build a barn. I reckon he's throwing a regular party to get it done. Inviting the whole countryside to pitch in." He chewed on a loose bit of dry skin hanging from his lip. "You reckon he'll farm us out for laborers come harvest time? He'll need to pay back a lot of favors."

"You're the one with the inside word, Henry. You ask him!"
~~~

Thank you for visiting. Come back every Saturday for more samples. Now, use this list to go to other blogs for more Sweet Saturday Samples. I know the authors enjoy comments as much as I do, so don't be shy.

Copyright 2012 Marsha Ward