A Writer's Eyes

Family by Design

2012-01-21T02:12:00.005-07:00

A blog tour book review by Keith N Fisher

What would you do if two kids needed you, but in order to help them, you had to marry your friend? Rena must marry her best friend so he can get custody of his niece and nephew.

Rena chooses to do it, and just when things get settled, he gets called up into the war.

Family by Design, written by Heather Justesen will intrigue you. The author has written another book with an unusual premise. Along with Blank Slate, Family by Design will delight your desire for a different kind of story.

Published by CFI, you will find this book in all the usual places and there is a contest for you to enter at the bottom. Good luck and good reading. Oh, and the Utah county book launch is today Jan 21 at Pioneer books, Orem, Utah. See you there?

Cover Blurb
Before he could think better of it, he blurted out, “I understand your concerns. I’m going to speak to my commander about getting an early discharge. My girlfriend, Rena, and I have talked about getting married. There just hasn’t been any rush.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wondered what he was thinking. Yes, they had discussed marriage, but not to each other! He and Rena had never even dated.

Tucker’s on his way to the biggest challenge of his life. Rena already has it all—except a family of her own. But neither one expected their friendship would take such a dramatic turn.

When Tucker becomes the guardian of his newly orphaned niece and nephew, he knows he can’t handle them alone, not when he might be shipped out with the Marines at any moment. Desperate, he turns to Rena for a major favor. His marriage proposal would give her everything she wants, but can she learn to live without the romance she’s always dreamed of?

As time, prayer, and a life-changing kiss work a little magic in her heart, Rena wonders if someone up there has a plan for her that’s better than anything she could’ve come up with on her own. And though it seems crazy at first, this could become her chance for a marriage that will last for eternity.

Also, as a special promotion for anyone who buys a book before January 31, you can get a free ebook for her companion novella, Shear Luck. Once you buy a copy of her book go here to get your free copy.

Cover Blurb
Chelsea Robison has never forgotten the older boy next door whom she crushed on as a teen, so when she runs into him at the restaurant he’s preparing to open, it’s a delightful shock. And learning he’s available again is more than a little tantalizing.

Vaughn Krenshaw had never seen his neighbor as more than a nice kid—but Chelsea had definitely grown up in the decade since they saw each other last. He’s attracted to the feisty red head, but still struggles over his wife’s death the previous year. And then there’s his five-year-old daughter, Molly, who really liked Chelsea—until she realized the woman was dating her dad.

As Chelsea starts to wonder if their love for each other will be enough to make things work, a specter from Vaughn’s past rises, making her question whether she really knew him at all.

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Happy Christmas

2011-12-23T13:26:00.000-07:00

Check out this video http://lds.org/media-library/video/mormon-messages?lang=eng#2009-12-41-the-christmas-spirit

Fall

2011-10-07T18:27:00.004-06:00

A blog tour book review by Keith N Fisher

Did you ever have one of those nagging feelings that won’t let you go? A feeling like you’re forgetting something, but you can’t quite remember what? I knew I had to get this review posted soon, but I wasn’t sure what day it was due.

Now I’m late, and people are going to think I’m unreliable. I’m really not you know. I’m the one who shows up for everything at least fifteen minutes early. Nothing left to do, than to say I’m sorry and move forward with my review.

I met the author, Jennifer Hurst, at the August Authorama this year. I was cooking in Dutch ovens and she was applying her talent of face painting. She’s a talented artist and although I didn’t know it at the time, she’s also an author.

Being asked to review her new book Fall, is an honor. The book was a refreshing story that deals with issues as old as time. Without beating about the bush, I must admit, at first, I found it hard to love the protagonist, Julia, because of her propensity toward typical airhead behavior.

She’s a woman manager and general foreman of a construction project. At one point she gets her high heel stuck in a hole between floorboards, (big surprise, huh?).

Julia, JD for short, wants to be taken seriously as the boss in a typically man’s occupation, but she insists on dressing in clothes that point out the differences between them.

I realize the author is trying to make a point in making her that way, but it was hard for me to read.

Eventually, I learned to like her, and the plot turns out okay. I don’t want to spoil it for you, so I won’t give you too much information. Get a copy and read it, but be warned there are demons in this story.

This book is self-published so don’t look for it in the obvious places. You will find it through the author and tell her I sent you. Or, go to amazon. its also available for Kindle

Hang 'Em High

2011-09-13T16:33:00.001-06:00

A blog tour book review by Keith N Fisher

Hang ‘Em High, by Tristi Pinkston is the third in the Secret Sister series. I think it’s the best because we get to meet Ida Mae’s son, Keith, and delve into her private life. Tristi did a wonderful job of expressing the regrets every parent goes through.

In Hang ‘Em High, there is trouble at her son’s Montana Dude Ranch. Someone is killing horses and the Secret Sisters gang must figure out the mystery before Keith goes out of business. The whole gang is back to provide their own kind of quirky good humor and individual solutions to the problem.

I'm sure you will love Hang 'Em High, too, but read the other books in the series first.

You can purchase the book Here or Here

You can find Tristi at these peoples on the web

Website http://www.tristipinkston.com

Blog http://www.tristipinkston.blogspot.com

And Now,
To celebrate the release of Tristi's eighth book, she's holding a contest! If you leave a comment on this review, you will be entered into a drawing for a free manuscript evaluation, done by Tristi Pinkston Editing In fact, you can leave comments on all the blogs participating in this virtual book tour! Go to Tristi Pinkston's blog at Here for a list. The deadline is October 5th at midnight MST. If you win and you're not a writer, you can give this evaluation to a friend.

Have a Good Day

2011-09-05T17:28:00.000-06:00

My Mouth Runneth Over

2011-08-18T16:02:00.003-06:00

Okay, I know I shouldn't get political, but I have a couple questions. Why is it okay for Regan to triple the national debt spending money on the economy? Why was it okay for George W Bush to authorize a free money giveaway in order to get the economy moving? Why was it okay to spend money on the economy, but its not okay for FDR, Kennedy, Johnson, and Obama to do it?

No one wants to admit it, but the world has been in a depression since the the GW Bush administration brought the ecomony to its knees. Historically, we have thrown money at it, in order to stimulate the economy. It's what Nixon did, its what Regan did. Carter cut government spending and he got blamed for the national debt that Regan promptly tripled.

People, this country was founded on debt. We borrowed money to finance the revolution. We have been in debt from the beginning. Its nothing new. Do you remember the big counters in New York in the seventies and eighties? they counted our debt and displayed each citizen's share.

Authorama

2011-08-04T15:46:00.002-06:00

I'm making dump cobbler for this event. First come, First served.

Come celebrate the launch of Hang 'Em High, by Tristi Pinkston

Blank Slate

2011-07-08T15:27:00.005-06:00

A book review by Keith N Fisher

Blank Slate, by Heather Justesen, is a story ripped from the headlines. How would it be to suddenly wake up living somebody else’s life? Then to be accused of fraudulently deceiving those you’ve grown to love?

I was scheduled to review this book on Thursday, but with all of the drama that is life I failed. If you’ve been riding the blog tour bus. I’m sorry this stop bogged you down.

When I was asked to contribute my fifty cents about Heather Justesen’s new book, Blank Slate. I gladly accepted. Heather is not only my friend, but also, a mentor. Her writing abilities constantly impress me. She has taken a real life incident and expanded the possibilities.

“What a lovely song,” Adrianna tried to redirect him as she slid from his embrace. “Is it classical?” She was still trying to figure out which songs fit into which musical style.

He released her as if he’d been burned and looked her in the eye. “This is Giovanni Garieli, the Italian Renaissance composer, and the song isn’t simply lovely He threw his hands up and turned from her, taking two steps away, then flipped back around to face her. “Who are you? I swear you got a total personality transplant in that accident. You won’t kiss me. You refuse to even try playing the piano. You can suddenly spell words I didn’t think you’d ever heard before. And worst, you know absolutely nothing about music—music that was your entire life before the accident.”

I don’t want to spoil the story for you, but it’s obvious to most readers what has happened, but you don’t mind. Heather weaves a tail of intrigue wondering when the mistaken identity will be revealed.

This book should be a must read on your list of new releases for the season. You can find a copy at the following links:

Amazon
Kindle
Smashwords version
The author's website

Kite, A Novel in Earth's Orbit

2011-03-26T02:44:00.007-06:00

A blog tour book review by Keith N Fisher

Imagine if you will, we are in an exotic place and we get on a tour bus. Each time that bus stops, we see another fascinating site and hear another interesting story. Every site is designed to impress and give us the experience we’ve paid for.

Like the tour in exotic places, My blog is another stop on a book tour for Kite, A Novel in Earth Orbit. I hope you’ve been enjoying this blog tour, and learned more about Kite at each one. I’m grateful for the opportunity to read and write about the book.

Imagine you step from the bus, pick up your complimentary bag of Hershey’s Drops, and the free cup of hot chocolate. I have some caramel mocha for those who want it. Now sit right there in the lounge and I’ll tell you about the book. It will take only a moment.

It’s the old inquiry of the information age. What would happen if our computers became self-aware? This intriguing question is answered, along with a terrorist plot, in the newly released novel, Kite, written by Bill Shears.

The premise of the story is a good one, and speaks to the curiosity of a future world. When virtual personalities have become part of our lives. When space junk has become enough of a problem for the government to send a manned vehicle up there to fix the orbits of abandoned space equipment.

Into this future world, come the terrorist activities of self-interest. What has been affecting the cyber world of technology?

With all things considered, I liked the premise of the story, but I think the book could’ve used the services of an editor. It seems the manuscript was rushed to publication and should’ve been examined further.

Still, with that being said, you might like reading this novel because of the premise. It’s a fresh approach and the characters are drawn well.

You can find a copy of Kite here You can learn more about the author here

I hope you’ve enjoyed this stop and the chocolate. Thank you for coming. Have a safe trip going to your next stop on the tour.

Yes I Recieved a free copy of the book, But that didn't change my opinion of it. I call 'em as I see 'em.

Bumpy Landings

2011-01-25T15:53:00.004-07:00

A book review by Keith N Fisher

I was thrilled to be asked to be part of the blog tour for the release of, Bumpy landings by Donald J Carey. The author and I have become friends through writer’s conferences and gatherings, so I cheer with him, but I’m thrilled because he’s a successful, male author in a female dominated market.

Those of us testosterone laden writers who write romance and women’s fiction need all the club members we can get, and Don has proven his ability to write a great love story.

The book, Bumpy Landings, will surprise and delight you. Don has done a wonderful job of drawing characters. Beth, the mother character is a perfectly drawn controlling mother. You really love to hate the woman at the same time as you are telling Jordan to “Man Up”. He does, and beautifully.

The story, set in an exotic place with an unusual plot, will make you feel good. Read it, you will like it. Kudo’s to Don for writing a good story.

You can find your copy of the book at the usual places of the publisher. And go to Don’s place for more info about him.

Yes I Recieved a free copy of the book, But that didn't change my opinion of it. I call 'em as I see 'em.

You are Invited

2011-01-14T12:09:00.003-07:00

You are invited

to the release

of Tristi Pinkston’s new novel

Dearly Departed

on Friday, January 14th,

at Pioneer Book

858 S. State, Orem

6 – 8 pm

Refreshments, prizes, and fun!

Bring a package of socks to be donated

to the homeless, and you'll be entered in an

additional drawing.

Hope to see you there!

Who Were These People?

2010-12-29T09:45:00.002-07:00

By Keith N Fisher

For many years, in my genealogy hobby, I’ve lamented over not having photographs of my ancestors. The frustration grew stronger each time I learned of a picture in someone’s possession that wasn’t being shared.

If you are like me, you know the names and a little information about ancestors through several generations. I worked to confirm that research and find histories. I looked for personal information in unusual sources such as, historical accounts of areas, personal journals of neighbors, church records, etc.

Finding a picture of them, or of a home they lived in, made me ecstatic. I could relate a visual image to my ancestor and it made that person’s life more real to me. Seeing a face helped me forge a deeper connection to them.

I’ve never finished that project, partly because of lack of resources, partly because of changes in my life, but recently, I had an opportunity to work in the receiving part of a thrift store. (I know that’s a long sentence).

Anyway, while on the job, I noticed dozens of old documents and pictures come in. We had no way of tracing the people in the pictures, and no way to store it all. Because we knew that people often donate things by accident, we’d keep the pictures for a week, hoping they would be claimed. One day I perused the pile of throw-a-ways and found the negative of the picture above. I couldn’t tell who it was, but the mustache looked familiar somehow. I rescued the negative and brought it home to scan it.

Now, I stare into those vaguely familiar faces. They aren’t my ancestors, but they are somebody’s. In light of my quest, I’m saddened by the generations of some families who get tossed out each day. Either, by those who don’t care or they just can’t put a name to the face. Really sad, is the scenario of indifferent executors of wills tossing labeled family history collections.

My mother tells a story of her grandpa burning a stack of old papers and pictures. He’d lost the capacity to remember who they were. She cringes when she thinks about it today, so she’s gone through most of everything she owns and marked who the people were. She writes down the relevance of a document, so her posterity will know.

So, I ask you. Do you know who these people are? I hope to find a family member who recognizes the faces, then I can give them a piece of their family history.

Love

2010-11-03T12:53:00.004-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

Sometimes the things that may or may not be true are the things that a man needs to believe in the most: that people are basically good; that honor, courage, and virtue mean everything; that power and money, money and power mean nothing; that good always triumphs over evil; and I want you to remember this, that love, true love, never dies... No matter if they're true or not, a man should believe in those things because those are the things worth believing in. -Hub McCann in Second Hand Lions-

I’m Hub McCann. I’ve fought in two world wars, and countless smaller ones on three continents. I’ve led thousands of men into battle with everything from horses and swords to artillery and tanks. I’ve seen the headwaters of the Nile and tribes of natives no white men had ever seen before. I’ve won and lost a dozen fortunes, killed many men, and loved only one woman with a passion a flea like you could never begin to understand. That’s who I am.

As you know, I've been writing women's fiction. Part of getting it right, means I must write a love story that moves another human. Lately, I've been admiring love stories. These two quotes written by Tim McCanlies, the author and director of, Second Hand Lions, are admirable. When you consider the fact they were delivered by Robert Duvall, the effect is priceless.

Consider what Hub said above, that true love never dies. Why is that? Love is love, right? Either you're in it, or you’re not. Do people fall in, and out of love?

Now consider the opposite. Is hate so strong that it cannot be conquered? If we concede that love is good and hate is evil then we can overcome hate. To quote Hub McCann, above, . . .good always triumphs over evil . . .

In our dealings in life and with our fellowman, Perhaps we would do well to remember which is the more powerful emotion. In movies and all fiction, there are two constants that must exist. Love and hate, if they are written well, the story will move the masses.

But to answer my own question above, There is love, so powerful it cannot be overcome. Time anger, and hate cannot change it. Foster that love and you will conquer all evil.

Consider these two scenes from Murphy’s Romance with James Garner & Sally Field. I’d rather go with the Love, rather than the hate. What do you think?

It All Started with Autumn Jones

2010-10-27T16:19:00.005-06:00

A book Review by Keith N Fisher

I couldn’t put it down. When I received my advanced reader’s copy as a door prize, I hadn’t intended to read it, let alone blog about it. I glanced over the first page, however, and became intrigued.

The novel, written by Jack Weyland, is the latest in a long list of his work. It’s the story of a young couple who became friends trying to stump a dictatorial professor in college. They are concerned that his beliefs about God and the origin of man will poison the other students. Being returned Mormon missionaries, themselves, they find they must stand up for their own beliefs.

I realize my copy is an uncorrected proof of the book, but I found a few plot holes, and the similarities to Love Story don’t stop with her calling him Preppy. Still, I enjoyed the book and recommend it to readers who want a clean love story, with good values.

I Dreamed a Dream

2010-09-30T06:49:00.003-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

In the Broadway production of Les Misérables, the character, Fantine, sings a song that always touched my heart. Life has not been kind to her, and things go from bad to worse. In I Dreamed a Dream she remembers a time before things got so crazy. I can relate to that. Many of us remember our childhood and high school, with fondness. They were better times—the good old days.

I’m not an opera fan, but in Les Misérables, there is hope. I believe that if more people caught the author’s message of the golden rule, and caring for our fellow man, there would be peace. Suffering will have ended and all our dreams could be fulfilled.

A few years ago, I dreamed a dream of the future. I had finished one book and started another when I lost my job. I tried to imagine life from that point forward, but I couldn’t find any path to follow. My options seemed limited, nonexistent, in fact. I used my severance and paid off the car loan setting our finances in order.

I hit the streets and the Internet, with a vengeance, but nothing turned up. When I took my problem to God, I got a response, but it didn’t make sense. Finish the book. I argued that writing in the LDS market would never support my family, but still, I felt I should finish the book.

While looking for work, I rewrote the manuscript I’d been working on and submitted. Yes, it was rejected, and I was devastated. I doubted my answers to prayer, and I tossed the manuscript against the wall. Soon after that, in a last ditch effort, I began to attend writer’s conferences.

I’ve told portions of my “How I became a writer” story, before. So, I won’t bore you with all the facts, but with the help of a great critique group, I’m a better writer than I used to be. I still wonder about the council to finish the book, but through it all, I dreamed a dream.

I’ve been paid for articles and blogs, but I haven’t made a living at my avocation. My “day job” has changed, but writing has become part of me. When, as it does for all of us, my world came crashing down around my ankles again, I had a story to work on. Writing has kept me relatively sane, and I dreamed a dream.

In my wild imaginings, I saw my book in the hands of a reader. The story was compelling and the characters were lovable. My years of late night typing and enduring discouraging remarks culminated in the reader’s comment that they loved the story.

Recently, I sent a manuscript to some dear friends and asked them to be brutally honest. I needed fresh eyes to proofread, The Hillside, before I submit. The gratifying comments I’ve received are a partial realization of my dream. The rest of it will come when a stranger approaches me and tells me how much they loved my book.

On that day, I will know what I’ve always suspected. Finishing that book and those I’ve written since then, has been an act of claiming a blessing of love that’s been waiting for me.

Hold onto your dreams. Believe in them. Concentrate on them. It might be a long time before they are realized, but I know it will happen for me, and it will happen for you, too.

Finding Joy

2010-09-23T10:47:00.005-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

A lot has happened during the past week. I wanted to write about the disaster of a wildfire that happened near my home, but I found another subject. Well, I’ll get back to that in a second, but first, yes, the National Guard started it. Yes, they should be responsible, but those houses border wild land.

Its tragic to lose your memories and your property to fire. I join in mourning for the loss, but I want to express something not mentioned on the local news.

Most of us only dream of owning a home where we could step outside our back door and be in wild spaces. The homes that burned down were like that. When your property borders public land you run a risk. Wild fires are bound to happen, especially in an arid state. You can’t make me believe the possibility never crossed the minds of those homeowners.

The story of a wildfire coming over the hill, and threatening a whole town, is spectacular news. Our media sources are going to talk about it, and they are bound to search for different angles to tell the story. We can let ourselves be sucked into the junk or not. Our government has admitted responsibility. It’s time to move on.

As for the homeowners let me offer my condolences, but please remember you had to know there was a danger. I live on top of an earthquake fault. My friends live in a flood plain. Others live next to dangerous roads. We take the risks, but if our homes are destroyed by a natural disaster, who are we going to sue, God?

I know it sounds harsh in light of the loss of personal possessions, but if that fire was the result of a lightening strike . . . well, you get the picture. It is a tragedy for which, you have my sympathy.

On another subject, I found a brief moment of joy this week that I can’t talk about. It’s personal for me and for those who shared it with me. I had been feeling down, and I stepped out of my comfort zone to help another human. As promised in the scriptures that they would be, the results were a blessing to me.

Later, I pulled into a parking lot and noticed two guys tipping a motorcycle back up onto its wheels. A small truck stood by with the tailgate open. I felt the urge to offer help.

With a huge puddle of oil on the ground it was obvious that bike wasn’t going anywhere under its own power so I offered to help them get it into the truck. I found out one the guys had been in a bike wreck earlier that day, so I helped the other guy lift the bike into the truck.

I felt great and I reaped the rewards of being of service. I walked back to my truck with a warm feeling in my heart, and looked around. There were dozens of unhappy people looking on, hanging on the fringe of helpfulness. I felt sorry for them.

Many of us muddle through our lives, wishing for this or that, mostly complaining about the cards we were dealt. We tend to watch our fellow beings with a blind eye, oblivious to the opportunities for true joy and happiness. The chances to help others are all around us, and I, for one, need to stop fretting about misfortune and take the opportunity.

In teaching the parable of the Sheep and Goats, Jesus said, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. I learned many lessons this week. Now, if only I can remember to apply them.

God, please, grant me the serenity to accept the one I cannot change.

Courage the change the one I can,

and wisdom, always, to know it's me.

I wish you, Joy and Peace.

In the Hallowed Halls

2010-09-16T06:47:00.003-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

I’m sorry I missed posting something last week. I was in the middle of studying for a test, but now, I’mmm baaaack.

I grew up in a college town. Well, to be technical, it is the town next to the college town. When I was young, We had several opportunities to use some of the facilities at the university. I worked on my swimming and lifesaving merit badges at the university swimming pool, bowled in the campus lanes, and did family history research at the university library.

After high school, I had no desire to attend college. I went out in the world of making a living with very little idea of what I would do with my life, I went to work in the construction industry because the money was good, and I liked the work.

As time wore on I went to college, (not the university). I studied to be an architect. Prior commitments (an LDS mission and a marriage) changed my plans, and I never finished my degree.

Now, I joke about being fifty-two years old and I still don’t know what I want to be, when I grow up. Through it all I found writing. It provides a release for me, but everyday, my lack of education looms over my success, and makes me wish I had taken a different tack.

I visited the University again this week. I had to take a government test and I think I did very well, but I arrived early and while waiting for test time, I discovered something I never knew.

Those of you who earned an MFA or took writing classes will probably laugh but I discovered the building where the writing courses are taught. There was the writing fellows group, the writing honors classes, and the university press, to mention a few.

There were old style park benches under shade trees outside. I was able to sit, write, and absorb the academic air. I like that building. It was built in a time before architects started cutting back to meet budget restraints. There is a grand staircase in the main hall made of hardwoods, delighting my soul.

Okay I was impressed, but I lamented my life. I began to imagine spending my time in that building earning my MFA, if I had discovered my passion for writing during high school.

So, I solute those children who attend courses in that building. Yours, is a great opportunity to roam those hallowed halls, networking with fellow students who will someday be your contemporaries in publishing. Look at them and realize you might be sitting next to a future bestseller.

Don’t be surprised if you see an old man in the morning, with his laptop sitting outside, trying to write a perfect sentence. It’s only me absorbing the ambiance, playing catch up in my chosen occupation. Take pity on me, though, as I rush back to the visitor’s parking trying to get to my other job on time.

Believe in a Bright Future

2010-08-26T12:07:00.002-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

It has been a knock down-drag out fight in our country lately. Contenders on both sides have strong opinions. Some of those opinions are in error, some are justified, all, are felt deeply and those feelings are approaching the boiling point.

It’s really surprising that so many married couples are still together, because compromise and working together for the common good, seems to have disappeared in the world.

I overheard a conversation just before church last week. Well, I had no choice but overhear, because the person was standing right next to me, and talking to another person behind me. The whole while, a member of the bishoprick stood at the pulpit waiting to begin the meeting.

People. Please remember there is a time and a place for your opinions. Also, those within listening distance might not agree with you.

Now, I realize this article might be incendiary to some, and it probably won’t even be read by most, but I plead with all of us. No issue or belief is important enough to alienate another human being.

Yes, the gloom and doom that has been predicted will happen. But only as a result of the My way or the highway attitude. The constitution is strong and has survived hundreds of years of compromise. The only way it will be brought down is by the claims of unfaithful zealots who are unwilling to allow for the happiness of all the people. The intent of the framers of that document clearly expressed compromise, because every single member of that congress made compromises on the original content.

Going back to my friend and her comments about socialism and communist regimes, Please keep in mind there were some who believe that’s exactly what happened in our country when the previous president forced the patriot act down our throats. Because of that move, The National Security Administration now listens in on every phone conversation and reads every email sent to, from, or in the United States.

If you haven’t grasped how important that is, let me explain. You’re privacy no longer exists. Some people are okay with that, stating the end justifies the means. You see it’s a matter of prospective. Depending on who the president is, and your opinion of him, the executive order can be good or bad depending on whether you like having your personal conversations monitored, a government health care program, or the building of the Panama Cannel.

It’s not socialism, communism, fascism, or monarchy. It’s an example of our president working to get something done in the face of disagreement on both sides.

The beauty of our country has always been in the way we can utterly disagree during an election, but then put it behind us and agree to work together after the election. Even if we hated the policies of an administration, we could look forward to the next election.

Which brings us to the plight of my good friend. As I understand it, he’s been working on a project with an investor. When the economy went bad, the investor pulled the funding. Who can blame them? Hard times make you want to convert all your assets to gold and wait for the storm to subside.

Now, I could go on and on about what caused our current financial state in our country, but suffice it to say, greed unchecked, feeds on itself. The greedy develop a sort of tunnel vision, shutting out any other needs but their own.

When I asked my friend if there was anything I could do to help him, his answer was. “Convince my investors that it’s safe to invest.”

What a monumental task that would be. Our government is trying to do that very thing. The previous administration gave tax rebates in an effort to boost the economy. Historically, government spending has always been the policy for economic recovery. Reagan did it, Nixon, Carter, Ford, even George Bush Senior.

The Roosevelt administration fought to increase confidence. The president faced the problem with an optimistic attitude and he persuaded investors to believe in recovery. Abraham Lincoln was faced with the task of rebuilding our country after deep divisions and economic upheaval tore it apart. But he convinced the people it could be done.

Whether you agree with, or hate our current president, should not affect whether you believe in our country or not. If you’ve given up on that belief, that sense of patriotism, then there are no battles to fight. If you believe the constitution will fail, it will. If you believe our economy cannot recover, it won’t.

But on the other hand, if you believe in our country and the fact we are all in this together, we will succeed. If you are willing to put your greed aside and follow the golden rule. Work with politicians instead of threatening them, then we will recover. There really is a bright spot on the horizon, but if we refuse to focus on that goal, worrying about the needs of the one instead of the needs of all, then the light will go out and we will receive exactly what we have been expecting.

I believe negative words and emotions feed on themselves. I also believe positive feelings are contagious. It grows lighter and brighter until the perfect day.

For those of you of a religious vein, Bruce R McConkie, a leader from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, referred to the days of tribulation preceding the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. In a nutshell, he said that if there are enough righteous people in the world, the Lord will stay his hand. In other words, if we will forget our petty interest and follow The Savior, we can have a bright future.

With all my heart, I believe we can.

The Morning Breaks

2010-08-19T18:06:00.003-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

Hymn number 1 in the LDS hymnbook has a very soothing first line.

The morning breaks, the shadows flee.

I was sitting on my front porch this morning, thinking about all the problems in the world. There is much to worry about, if you’re in a mind to worry. I have a friend who worries to the point of being fearful. Many of the extreme right wing talk show hosts are turning rabid in their hatred. People are losing their jobs and prices are going up.

But as I sat on my porch, I glanced at a blue pansy flower while the whole world waited in great expectation for the advent of the sun. As I gazed at the pansy, the sun came up and light beamed through the branches of the weeping birch tree. One of those beams hit my pansy and briefly illuminated it, and all its glory.

I thought of the first line of the hymn and realized there is hope. Seconds later, the sun shifted, and the beam faded. The flowerbed was plunged into shadows, but other elements of my garden were highlighted.

Most children live in a world of innocent bliss. Unless it’s pointed out to them, they really have no idea about the problems in the world. Current events consist of who’s it in hide-n-go seek. They talk about the great catch Billy made in the vacant lot football game.

For one brief moment, this morning, I watched the sunlight dance on one of God’s creations and the flower was beautiful. I felt like a child. I didn’t care what was happening outside of my front yard. Then I returned to my supposed adult world and went on my way.

I know things will work out in the end. Our problems could disappear if we could only look past our selfish need to be right. Battle lines have been drawn. Many good folks have given in to the, My way or the highway mantra. Remember the time when the only argument was whether Johnny tagged Jimmy at home plate or not? When Jane spilled the juice, but Mary got blamed for it?

I’m not suggesting we all stick our head in the sand. We can’t escape our problems in a game of kick the can. We can, however, stop taking ourselves so seriously that we can’t recognize the right of others to express their opinions, too. We could stop spreading our disconcerting propaganda and start believing in our ability to work together.

In life, there will always be beautiful moments. The morning does break and shadows do flee, but we must be ready and looking for it.

Finding Your Poker Face

2010-08-12T18:30:00.003-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

Do you remember the episode of MASH when Winchester joined the poker game and won every hand and took all the money? It drove the other players crazy because of his skill in convincing them he had a better hand no matter what. Then someone figured out that Winchester whistled a classical tune, every time he bluffed. It was a nervous habit Winchester didn’t know he had, and the other players used it to defeat him.

In the world of draw poker, a card player quickly learns a valuable lesson about facial expressions and nervous ticks. Most learn to use the same facial expression no matter what cards they hold. It’s called keeping a good poker face.

The really great players learn to use different expressions to lead the other players into false belief in a facial tick that doesn’t exist.

I learned a valuable lesson about myself this week I’d like to share with my blog readers. Long ago, I discovered I feel better about myself if I can help others feel good about themselves, so I try to speak kind, building, words to my fellow beings. Some times it lifts my mood just to see the confused look on strangers faces.

I can imagine what goes through their head. Why is this person talking to me? Is he going to steal my wallet? He is going to beat me up? Why is this person talking to me? It’s truly joyful when I can succeed in getting them to say something nice in return.

Even with all the good feelings I get from the application of my campaign, I have truly bad days. There are times when life seems to cave in on me like the crumbling walls of a neglected adobe structure, left in the elements for hundreds of years.

We are entitled, aren’t we? To feel down occasionally is normal, isn’t it?” At times like those, how many of us realize our poker face needs improving? I found out the hard way that while internalizing my agony, I tend to alienate others. A co-worker came up to me and asked if I was okay. I thought the question was a bit odd. How did he know I was having a lousy time of it?

It seems another co-worker had said something to me and I was short with him. Truthfully, I don’t remember even being greeted, but my bad mood and personal issues had taken control. I can just imagine how my face looked.

I submit, and this is the lesson I learned, We need to develop a poker face in dealing with others. We are all going to have bad days now and then, but unless we’re having a crisis, perhaps we can show a face that is pleasing. Unless they are in our head, people we meet don’t know there is something bugging us.

I want my poker face to be something that supports and builds others. Then I can turn my day around through the joy of making them feel good about their lives.

I had a nice talk with my co-worker and I thanked him for being my friend. Life is grand, but I need to learn to let it be.

Personal Time in Quiet Places

2010-08-05T16:14:00.006-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

I don’t have a Dead Author’s Society review today. I don’t have a special new book to report on. After commenting on Facebook the other day I’m determined to keep my mouth shut, again. So today I’m sitting in the public library catching up on a little writing time.

I have a subject I’d like to talk about, but keep going to the end. You can read the update on my writing projects. I knew you were interested. Well, even if you weren’t, I’m going to tell you about it anyway.

Do you remember the words to the theme song of Cheers? If you missed the eighties, Cheers was a popular television sitcom about an alcoholic bar owner, along with the crazy antics perpetrated by his customers. Anyway, the song goes, Listen to it here

Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you've got
Taking a break from all your worries
Sure would help a lot
Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name
And they're always glad you came
You want to be where you can see
Our troubles are all the same
You want to be where everybody knows your name

By Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart Angelo

Does it sound good? Would you be shocked to learn that most of us already have a place like this, it’s a place called the family. I know there are circumstances where home and family, are hostile environments. Unfortunately, church can be likewise, but for the most part, your family can be for you, what the customers of Cheers were to each other.

Besides church and family, I’ve known a few places like Cheers in my short life, but I’ve, also, learned that sometimes I need a quieter place. A place to be alone and think. We all need a place where there are no expectations, and no distractions. We need a place where clarity seeps into our psyche.

I had a deadline so I came to the library, but I remember a solo backpacking trip about thirty-one years ago. I spent all day off the beaten path, following deer trails and breaking the bush, so to speak. I climbed a peak in the middle of nowhere, communed with nature and enjoyed the beautiful view.

Something touched my heart that day, and I fell to my knees in gratitude for the opportunity to see such beauty. After my pounding heart settled down, I heard myself think. My thoughts were focused in honest reflection of my life’s direction. I was able to move forward with clarity.

Because of urban development, that place no longer exists, but I can go to a similar place. Not by backpacking, or climbing peaks. I can go there by leaving my electronic gizmos in the car, finding a quiet place, and turning my thoughts away from problems. Some people get there through fishing. Others whittle.

Before long, while focusing on nothing, clarity occurs and I realize the solution to my problem.

Try my solution and carve out a little quiet personal time for yourself. Let me know how you get to your quiet place.

Now, the update, I’m currently working on the sequel to The Hillside. With 40,725 words and 153 pages, I’m about half way done. I still don’t have a name for it, but I sat down with a white board the other day and listed all the things I still need to write in order to tell this story.

The Hillside is in the hands of the proofreaders. I think you’ll like the book. With nine different points of view, and several characters, it tells the story of the owner of the Hillside Bed and Breakfast and the quests who stay within the walls. It’s women’s fiction, but there are elements for all readers.

I’ve been drafting a new story called Star Crossed. It’s the story of high school sweethearts driven apart, then coming together later in life.

The other books on the list continue to sit on the back burner. I write this blog and two others each week and love to review new books.

Embraced

2010-07-29T16:27:00.002-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

Where do you go when life comes at you like a freight train and you’re running across a trestle, carefully stepping on each rail tie, and wishing you’d taken the highway?

We all have troubles. Some more than others of us, but eventually we end up trying to outrun an elephant stampede, knowing one misstep would mean the end of our life in an unappealing way.

When you get to the point where you must jump off the bridge or be squashed by the train, do you find safety in the water?

From the beginning of our childhood, each of us learns to take care of our self. We learn to feed ourselves, go to the bathroom, tie our shoelaces, and talk on the phone. Later we learn things like getting along with others or staying under the radar of the playground bully. We spend our whole lives believing we don’t need anybody. We can stand on our own two feet. We can cut it alone.

Then, sometime during adolescence we lose all sense of direction. We fall in love with a member of the opposite sex. After falling off the romance roller coaster, we lick our wounds, kick ourselves for losing control and vow to never be taken in, again.

We don’t need anyone. We got along just fine without a boy/girlfriend before, and we can do it again.

Sooner or later we discover the erroneous attitude of self-accomplishment. The little red hen realized she had to do the work, or the bread wouldn’t get made. Then she refused to share, saying I did it all myself. I deserve all the credit.

The problem here is the hen didn’t remember who gave her the field to plant. Who made the seeds grow. Who sent the rain, and who helped her every step of the way. She never once gave credit where credit was due.

Recently, I heard about a study, conducted by professors at Brigham Young University and they concluded we’re healthier if we have friends. The reporter listed all the things having no friends is worse than. Such things as heart disease, and obesity. They say our bodies respond to interaction with friends.

It seems the song, No Man is an Island has connotations far beyond the simple feeling of brotherhood it represents.

May God grant you serenity to realize He is your best friend, but He has given you a life full of opportunities to embrace people who could save your life. If you cultivate good friends, they will catch you when you jump from the bridge. They will lift you up, out of the path of danger.

I want to take this opportunity to say thank you to my good friends. Thank you for putting up with my bull headed pride and thank you for saving my life.

Trying to Make Sense out of Nonsense-Shooting off my Mouth

2010-07-22T16:01:00.003-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

Recently, on another blog, I made the point that perhaps we should be careful what we write. I’ve said things in my life I should’ve kept to myself. I’ve written inflammatory words that came back to bite me. Often, I jump to conclusions when I should just keep quiet.

That being said, I’ve been following a news story to frustration. Without going into detail, I say, yes, punish the information abusers, but if the people on the list are really illegal immigrants, why are we not deporting them? Why is our government providing services to them? Perhaps we could approach the problem by billing the home governments of the Illegal immigrants.

The United States is having enough financial troubles without adding to it. Let’s send a collection agency armed with missiles to recoup our losses. Under our law, parents are often held responsible for their children’s actions. Why can’t we extend that thinking to include governments who do nothing to prevent illegal immigration to our country?

Perhaps the answer to all these questions is in the perception of power and the elect-ability of catering candidates. Now, I realize what I’ve said may be ill advised. Some of my friends might take offense, but I’m getting tired of this being an issue. There are thousands of wonderful people in this country who immigrated legally, from many different countries, and through the proper channels.

I extend my open arms to welcome them, but when I read about a police officer who lost her life at the hands of an illegal, It frustrates me. Especially when you consider the alien responsible had been deported before.

Leaning into the Curves

2010-07-15T13:44:00.003-06:00

A blog tour stop book review by Keith N Fisher

I saw this book for the first time on the bookstore table, at the LDStorymakers conference. I found Carroll Hofeling Morris later, and congratulated her on the new book. She asked me an off the wall question, “Did you read the title? What did it say?

Apparently, the subconscious mind interprets it as something to do with a learning curve. I had to admit my mind wanted to do it too, but the motorcycle on the cover straightened me out. The experience made me realize how important titles can be. Since then, I’ve concluded that, Leaning into the Curves is the most appropriate title.

It’s about a woman who enters a new phase of her life. Her husband’s retirement sends her into adjustment mode. Trying to make her own life fit into his new schedule while he tries to find his place in the world.

His purchase of a motorcycle and subsequent membership in the Temple Riders Association, teach her lessons about marital partnership and being a passenger on a motorcycle.

Like driving a racecar through high-banked curves, centrifugal force pulls you around with minimal effort. It’s the same thing when riding a motorcycle. You learn to lean into the curves. When you’re riding on the back, the driver is in control. The passenger’s first instinct is to lean away and that messes up the rhythm and could cause a wreck.

Therefore Leaning into the Curves is a most appropriate title. Often times, as a spouse, we must go against our instincts and learn to trust our sweetheart. We must lean into the curves of life with him/her.

Written by Nancy Anderson, and Carroll Hofeling Morris, Leaning into the Curves, is a good story and its easy to read. I also, liked it because I have a friend who owns several Harley Davidson motorcycles and is a member of the TRA. Then, again, maybe I liked it, because I’m fast approaching retirement.

While reading, I noticed several places the story could’ve ended. I wondered if the authors were stretching out their word count. Often, in writing a book we end up short on words to fill editorial requirements, but when I came to the last page, I realized the true ending was right where it needed to be for the whole story. The added parts were icing on the cake.

Published by Deseret Book, you will find your copy at their website, and the other, usual locations. Be sure to visit the author’s website at or their blog.

Requiem

2010-07-08T09:26:00.004-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

The Cliché “You can’t go home again,” was meant to convey feelings derived from a visit to places from your youth that turn out to be less than you had inflated them. In my case the term has literal meaning.

I sat this week, gazing at the flattened, bombed out space that used to be Orem High School. I spent three of my best years wandering those halls. I learned how to kiss girls and dissect a frog.

I remember the time we found the unlocked trapdoor in the storage room of the auto shop. It led to the bomb shelter. Also, the time when my friend, Dave Cryer, and I, wrote an argument skit by assignment for drama class. It was brilliant. We acquired a starter’s pistol with the intention of using it in the end.

We rehearsed, we had it down pat, and on the morning of the skit I drove my friends to school. I pulled in that space between the gym and the trades building and passed the school policeman. Another friend pointed the gun through the open window and . . .

Well, you can guess what happened next. If my friend had done that today, we would still be in prison. Officer Guyman didn’t want to, but he finally cut us a break. We were able to use the gun in our skit with the promise we would put it away and never bring it out at school again.

The skit went off without a hitch. I pushed Dave. He pushed me. The choreography was flawless. I fell to the floor on my back, pulled the gun from my boot, and fired. Dave reacted to each shot and screams were heard from our audience.

I recall sharing a locker with my girlfriend. We left love notes for each other. I remember the Sweetheart Ball, and Preference. Football, and Wresting. I remember driving my truck up the steps in the courtyard between the driver’s Ed room and the girl’s gym. I did it on a dare and busted my exhaust manifold in the process.

There was the night my friend Kelly Rawlings spent, tethered under the football field bleachers. He was lucky enough to be in unified studies. Oh yeah, life was grand. I was the kid who issued parking tickets in first period. I went out the front door and worked my way south writing tickets to cars without permits. Then, up the lunch ladies row with my truck parked at the end. I’d climb in and go to breakfast. Sorry Mr. Jarman, I wish I’d done better.

I had friends in every click. Friendly faces in every classroom. I was lucky to be a bicentennial senior, class of 1976.

A few years ago, our church group took on the service project to do a major deep clean, and repair the old school. Some people from our group cleaned out the bomb shelter and came out wearing so much dust they were almost unrecognizable. I helped clean windows.

After the cleaning, my wife and I walked the halls in amazement. Classrooms had replaced the courtyard between the band rooms and the gyms. Our precious little theater, was something else, they had taken part of the trades building and made the new little theater. My locker was still there. At the East End of C hall, near the Driver’s Ed Room. That’s where I hung out—across from the water fountain. I will be standing there in my mind forever. Every time I try to go home again.

Now things have changed. I was given to understand, the district was directed to bring Orem High up to earthquake standards. It was decided it would be cheaper to replace it. I don’t know if that’s true, but there is a new school, built in the old parking lot.

According to my sparse research, Orem High was built in 1956. You can see from the picture that C hall didn’t exist. Many of the things I recall hadn’t been built yet. A lot of renovation came after I left. Now it’s gone, I really can’t go home again.

Orem High School 1956-2010

Hey kids of the twenty-first century, good luck with the new haunts. Orem High School Number Two 2010-?

The Screwtape Letters-C S Lewis

2010-07-01T07:51:00.006-06:00

By Keith N Fisher

If you are a member of the LDS Church, You’ve heard this book quoted from the pulpit. I wanted to review it on my Dead Authors Society feature because it’s full of insights. Many people respect the author because of his religious writing. Many others don’t realize he’s the same man who wrote the Chronicles of Narnia series.

In the Screwtape letters, Clive Staples Lewis created a world filled with characters who reveal the struggles of being a Christian. It is a series of letters between Screwtape, a master tempter in the employ of the devil, and his nephew, Wormwood, an apprentice tempter.

In the story, Screwtape offers advice to Wormwood, on how to lead his patient, (the man he was assigned to), down to hell. This is a good read, because it’s so true. Many of the examples of the weaker side of human character are right on. That’s why, I suppose, Screwtape is often quoted in church meetings.

C S Lewis died in 1963 and was considered to be one of the intellectual giants of the twentieth century. That would explain, at least to me, why The Chronicles of Narnia seemed a little dry and clinical.

Although Lewis has received notoriety for that series, I think his other writings. Like the Screwtape Letters, are what sets him apart. His struggles with faith and religion are evident throughout. Even in the Narnia series.

In my copy, there is a dedication to J R R Tolkien, which I find revealing, because I’ve heard that Lewis and Tolkien were critique partners.

I recommend this book to everyone, but read it slow. If you’re like me, the text will float over your consciousness and major points will be missed. Savor the insights but don’t take it too seriously. In the preface, Lewis warns, The Devil is a liar. Not everything that Screwtape says should be assumed to be true even from his own angle.

Alma the Younger by H. B. Moore

2010-06-24T07:40:00.003-06:00

A book review by Keith N Fisher

When Heather Moore announced the release of her new book. I jumped at the chance to do a review. Alma the Younger from the Book of Mormon is one of my personal heroes and I couldn’t wait to see how Heather painted his picture.

How would you fictionalize the account of this ancient prophet? Let me just say, I was pleased. In the preface, the author made some very good points about the man and what he was doing with the Son’s of King Mosiah. She said, I was struck with the idea that Alma the Younger was no rebellious teenager, playing pranks, or skipping Sabbath meetings to go fishing or hunting . . . we might ask why the Lord saw fit to send an angel to intervene in Alma the Younger’s behalf? Yes, his father and many others had been praying and fasting for him . . . but there are many parents who pray for their errant children . . .

She goes on to speculate that Alma the Younger’s actions must have had the potential to destroy an entire nation.

The scriptural references are Book of Mormon, Mosiah 26-27 and Alma 36. The story leaves the reader with the sense that Christ’s atonement is real and is meant for everyone. The only criticism I would have is in the depiction of the time Alma was racked with torment because of his sins. I felt there was more to be said. Instead, I was left feeling Alma received a slap on the wrist for his sins.

Just as we can’t comprehend the anguish Jesus went through for us, I believe Alma went through so much more than was shown.

Other than that, I felt my hero was represented perfectly. Alma the Younger is a wonderful story, and I recommend it to everyone. You can get your copy at the usual places on the Internet or in stores. Published by Covenant Communications, this book is a good read.

Dealing with Changes

2010-06-17T08:10:00.003-06:00

By Keith Fisher

My laptop decided to take a vacation. Not that it deserves one, it just decided to give me the blue screen of death every time I try to do something. I’m going to send it off to my friend Bill Justesen and have him get out the whip and chains, but for now, I downloaded my writing files (in safe mode) and I’ve resigned myself to sitting in my chair in front of my print server.

They say, change is inevitable, but I wonder if it was first said to equalize the playing field. You know. Someone noticed one guy is a really good cook. “Let’s make him an accountant, then he won’t be better then everyone else.”

Competition with others really is the way of life, but competition for time, when you are juggling activities, can be devastating.

I’ve been working a new job lately. After almost a year of unemployment, I’m grateful to have something. Anyway, I worked a stationary job for many years. Sitting in an office with a calculator and a computer. Now, I’m working a more physical job and it’s killing me.

(Do you hear the sad music playing?) The truth is, I’m getting back in shape, but I’ve been neglecting my writing. I come home too tired to check my E-mail. Let alone write a chapter. Now my laptop has taken a powder, so I must sit here to write.

I look out the window with longing to write on my front porch. Last night I took a first draft to critique group and realized how much things have changed in the past month. The irony is, I feel truly fulfilled when I let my characters dictate a story. Or, when I wax poetic in a blog or an article, but unfortunately I haven’t made enough money to justify making it my full time job.

So I sit here in the bedroom I call my office, sharing the space with my daughter. I hear the wailing sound of a weed whacker and remember all the yard work I need to do. I miss my laptop, but I’ve got blogs and chapters to write.

Well, that is my rant. Thanks for listening. Pray for my, no, don’t pray for that worthless laptop. It’s been like a wayward teenager all these years. Time to get out the paddle and force it to work for a living.

Rebound

2010-06-13T07:10:00.005-06:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

Heather Justesen is carrying on a tradition of great literature. In her second book in the series, we delve further into the lives of the delightful circle of family and friends Heather created. In Rebound we folly Lilly through finding out her husband wasn't what he professed to be.

Meanwhile, her friend Curtis is struggling to find his birth parents and their paths converge. Heather has done a terrific job of depicting the feelings of betrayal and abandonment associated with the revelation that your husband has been living a secret life.

As usual, Heather is holding a contest as part of the blog tour. Go to her Blogsite for more info. Better hurry though, the giveaways happen between the 21st and the 25th. Find her book in Costco, Deseret Book, Barnes & Noble, and other fine bookstores. Also, her book is online at Amazon.

It has been a pleasure to be a stop on the blog tour. If you read The Balls in Her Court, you will want to read Rebound too. Pick up your copy now.

You Just Got Here

2010-06-10T12:17:00.003-06:00

by Keith Fisher

When I was kid, and we visited my Grandparents, As soon as we'd get up to leave, Grandpa would say, "Leaving already? You just got here." It didn't matter if we'd been there all day, it was the same thing. Now that I'm getting older, and I enjoy visitors more than I did before, I've found myself saying the same thing. "Ah you just got here."

Of course in my family the objection if justified. It seems that people keep their coats on when they come to visit. Maybe I should clean better. Would it help if I bought new furniture?

I logged into this blog today, and noticed I lost a follower. I worried that it was something I said. I wanted to send an email and say, "Leaving already? You just got here." I couldn't send an email, however. Not only because its not cool, but because I'm not sure who it was.

I cherish each and every one of you. The followers of my blog are like validation to y wriing career. Comments are like mana from heaven.

So, let me take this moment to say thank you to my followers. If I run off at the mouth, or keyboard, so t speak, please let me know. Stick around though, I tend to ramble on until somethng good comes out.

In Flanders Fields

2010-05-31T06:16:00.005-06:00

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

-By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army-

While living for two years in Eastern Canada, I learned about Rememberance Day. Vetrans organizations sold artificial poppies so the general public could show patriotism, and remember their dead.

I asked the natives about the tradition, and they pointed me to this poem. Canadian physician and Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae wrote it on 3 May 1915, after he witnessed the death of his friend, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, 22 years old, the day before. The poem was first published on 8 December of that year in the London-based magazine Punch.

According to historical accounts, Memorial Day in the United States began shortly after the War between the states. It was a day to honor the war dead and continues today. Now, we honor all of our dead.

In the last part of the poem, MacCrae passes the torch to the next generation. He charges to take up his fight.

In My generation, many of us longed for a day when war would cease. Since then, I've lost faith. I fear that mankind will never learn. Also there is the issue of security, We will always have a military.

To follow MacCrae's charge, however, and line up to continue the fight in WWI would have been disastrous. I submit we can still put the dead to rest as he requests. We can remember them. We can remember the generations of good men and women who answered the call of their country. Those who fought whether they believed in that fight or not.

We can support those who fight today, even if we wish they weren't fighting. Along with the lessons of war, we can learn the lessons of the antiwar fight. Support our sons and daughters.

As for DR. MacCrae. We will remember your friend and all the others who have fallen in war. And those who might have never served, who fight the battles of living, then die. We will remember you too.

Whether you visit a cemetary or not, this weekend, take a moment and remember those who came before. The sacrifices they made brought for you the blessings you enjoy.

One last personal, note: When you remember, try to remember the lessons of history. If we forget, we will repeat it. With all my heart, I pray we don't repeat it again.

Remembering Isaac

2010-05-25T07:29:00.005-06:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

I sat in the conference room with my fingers crossed. Sure enough, after several tries at choosing a winner, I received an autographed copy of Remembering Isaac The Wise and Joyful Potter of Niederbipp.

I’d been listening to Ben Behunin, a successful potter, speak about his experiences with self-publishing during a League of Utah Writers workshop. Something told me I needed to read the book, but I was short on cash. How nice it was, to finally win something.

Remembering Isaac is a special book. It has a series of thumbnail pictures on the inside edge of the columns, so when you fan the pages, you get to see Ben throw a pot on the wheel. The old animation trick also gives you an indication of your reading progress. The sketches and interesting graphics strung throughout, provides the reader with a sense of perusing a potter’s sketchbook.

In the workshop, Ben spoke about his desire to produce the book he wanted, and its selling well because of a successful word of mouth campaign. Readers have flocked to Costco in order to meet Ben, and purchase the second book in the series. I wonder how it would’ve turned out, if a publisher had seen it.

I’ve got to say at the outset, this book could’ve used an editor. There are style issues and point of view slips throughout, but I didn’t care. I read through the story with a sense of purpose. I needed to find out how the story unfolded, and I gleaned words of wisdom along the way. Beyond the obvious, I found a renewed desire to follow my dreams. I want to open a shop in a small town, write, and be a friend to man.

Ben Behunin, drew the character, Isaac, who embodies a poem I’ve quoted on this blog before, but here it is again:

House by the Side of the Road
By Sam Walter Foss

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat
Nor hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife,
But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I hope you read this book, if for no other reason, it will help you find courage to follow your dream. Now, I need to acquire a copy of the second book, Discovering Isaac.

You can find a copy of both here.

To Kill a Mockingbird-Harper Lee

2010-05-18T12:08:00.005-06:00

By Keith Fisher

When you write a blog feature called the Dead Authors Society, you run the risk of having people come back and say, “Hey, that author is still alive.” Today’s author is indeed very much alive. I hope she remains with us, for many years to come.

Nelle Harper Lee was born at a wonderful, yet turbulent time. Growing up with the likes of Truman Capote in a neighborhood where children were free to have adventures in their own yards. Neighbors were friendly and looked out for each other.

Her book, To Kill a Mockingbird, is a reflection of that childhood. Published in 1960 and transferred to the silver screen, is one of the all time classics of literature. That success, I believe, squelched her efforts to get other works published. She wrote them, but wasn’t happy with her writing. Therefore, she didn’t submit those manuscripts. I hope in twenty years or more, we’ll get to see those other books. She is a magnificent writer.

In, To Kill a Mockingbird, there are so many memorable scenes it’s hard to pick one to write about. The courtroom scenes, the mad dog scene, even the knifing, were very poignant, but I think in that moment when Atticus Finch steps forward after being spit on, everyone expects him to lay his adversary flat, but he doesn’t. The amount of self-control portrayed there, was marvelous. I wish I could write characters that would hold generations of readers spellbound, like the author of this story, did.

To Kill a Mockingbird is required reading for many literature courses, as it should be. I recommend it for everyone. And if you want to see the movie, Gregory Peck’s rendition of Atticus Finch, won him and Oscar.

In my light research about Harper Lee, I came across an aledged letter she wrote in 1966. It was sent to the editor of a newspaper, in response to the attempts of a Richmond, Virginia area school board to ban To Kill a Mockingbird as “immoral literature”.

Recently I have received echoes down this way of the Hanover County School Board’s activities, and what I’ve heard makes me wonder if any of its members can read.

Surely it is plain to the simplest intelligence that “To Kill a Mockingbird” spells out in words of seldom more than two syllables a code of honor and conduct, Christian in its ethic, that is the heritage of all Southerners. To hear that the novel is “immoral” has made me count the years between now and 1984, for I have yet to come across a better example of doublethink.

I feel, however, that the problem is one of illiteracy, not Marxism. Therefore I enclose a small contribution to the Beadle Bumble Fund that I hope will be used to enroll the Hanover County School Board in any first grade of its choice.

Few authors ever reach the success Harper Lee did with To Kill a Mockingbird. She will be remembered throughout the generations. It’s hard to build on that. A person feels they will never be that good again. I wish she could’ve bridged that gap.

Mormon Mishaps and Mischief by Nichole and Cindy

2010-05-10T08:11:00.008-06:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

I give up, give in, and otherwise throw my hands in the air pulling my hair out.

I Reviewed Mormon Mishaps and Mischief by Cl Beck and DN Giles, in January when it came out, so when Nichole and Cindy announced the blog tour, they said I could do an interview. I should have written the questions two weeks ago, but I figured I'd have time. Last week, I was the recipient of a busy week. Between job searching, yard work, preparing to cook for the fourth grade, cooking for the fourth grade, emergency preparedness fair, cooking for mothers day, and general lack of inspiration, I didn't get my interview written.

Now that I have made all those excuses, and you think I'm a flake, Let me say I'm sorry. I know you were expecting words of wit and wisdom from Cindy and Nichole, but I have let you down.

So I'm re-posting my review from January and hoping the authors will forgive and give me another chance. If you haven't read it already, you will love Mormon Mishaps and Mischief. by Inky and Nichole. Cindy, leave a comment and tell us why I call you Inky.

here is a link to the great giveaway. you need to go check it out because these ladies can really hold a giveaway.

What a great coffee table book. I have been reading this book in spurts and I loved it. As a culture, Mormons sometimes take themselves too serious. When something human happens in a church meeting, we love to laugh.

This book will provide reasons to smile, and laugh out loud if you feel so inclined. It’s a compilation of many different true stories and incidents written by many different contributors. You will enjoy this look into our human side. Who knows, perhaps you will find a story to use in that talk you’re preparing.

You can find a copy in many places but here is one on the internet.

What's in Your Closet

2010-05-01T10:23:00.001-06:00

By Keith Fisher

One of my critique group partners worked a funny, personal memory into her story the other day. She gave the experience to a character, and showed us the feelings with great clarity. For me, it was fun to know it really happened, and fun to see my friend relive the passion.

I think all writers weave bits of their personal lives into their stories, but I thought of a metaphor and a practical application for using your experiences in a story.

Obviously you can’t use your whole life. Even if you’ve lived in the extreme, it would be a memoir and you’d lose the freedom of fiction, but . . .

We’ve all heard the metaphor, used by the good folks in the mental health profession, of cleaning out your closet. They urge us to drag our fears and bad experiences out of our closets and face them in the cold light of day.

I’m not a counselor, but I know a few, so I’ll rely on them to correct me if I’m wrong.

The truth is, that some closets are bigger than others, but we all have closets. During our lives, we toss things into those closets and quickly shut the door. Then years later, something happens to open the door. The contents spill out all over the floor and we must face the mess. Hopefully, it doesn’t happen in a crowded room full of people that you’re trying to impress.

It’s easier to remove one thing at a time, facing each nightmare on your terms. After dealing with the memory, file it into another place.

Writers, when they’re plotting, tend to draw from the memories in their closets. Research is harder than picking our brain. Sometimes it’s a subtle nuance, something we’ve seen someone do. Other times it’s the memory of a special Christmas from your childhood. It can even be a terrible nightmare, forgotten long ago, and tossed into the back of your closet.

I know a writer who drew from feelings she’d had while dealing with an unpleasant situation. It made the story believable and had a cleansing affect on the writer. I know others who write their mother-in-law into a story and make them the hated villain.

I wrote a former boss into a book once, when I finished, I marveled at my feelings. I never knew I let him effect me so much.

Writers tend to notice things others don’t see. The polished craft of writing helps the writer to tell the story in minute detail. It’s a wonderful gift to be able to clean your closets and give characters things to do on the page.

So, I return to the title question, what’s in your closet?

Writing, Au Naturel

2010-04-27T14:36:00.002-06:00

By Keith Fisher

It’s not what you might be thinking. According to Dictionary.com the original definition from 1817 was a French term meaning uncooked. The definition we want is number 1, in a natural state.

Obviously, I used the title to get your attention, and I thought it would be cute.

I’m writing on my front porch with my laptop open on the bistro table, gazing at the world of spring flowers, green grass, and fruit tree blossoms. The buds on the hardwoods threaten to pop out at any moment, and black clouds are forming, as testament of the approaching storm. I’m writing in nature.

I love getting away from my desk to write. Sometimes it’s easier to think with my computer in a different position and my behind, in a different chair. Of all my favorite escapes, my front porch is one of the best. Especially, at this time of year. It’s wonderful to be part of the renewal of nature.

When I get stuck for a word, I can watch a bug cross the concrete and land in the flowerbed, on it’s way to far off regions. I can watch the cat frolic on the lawn, rolling around in its mock battle with a favorite bouncing ball.

All of these things renew my spirit as I contemplate the big picture of the story problem I happen to be working on. When I write in the library, I catch myself staring at people, while I’m contemplating my next sentence. Often, people stare back, probably wondering about my rudeness in staring at them. In nature, I can stare at the beauty and feel refreshed, and nature doesn’t stare back.

And now, here’s an update on my projects.

I finished my rewrite of The Hillside, and I’m gearing up for the final read through. With any luck and God’s blessings, I’ll be submitting it soon. The sequel is percolating, and a new another new story is forming. I need to consider the rewrite of My Brother’s Keeper, because I know what I need to change, and even after rejection, that story won’t let go of me.

I think I’ll be submitting more articles in the near future. I enjoyed the LDStorymakers conference and felt drawn to that medium.

I'll Know you by Heart

2010-04-17T00:22:00.005-06:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

When I heard Kimberly read the first chapter in our critique group, I knew she was a much better writer than I’d given her credit for. Kimberly had been using me as a sounding board, so I had an idea what she was going to write, but wow.

Kimberly has the talent to draw a reader into a story, and hold their attention. I’m lucky to be able to learn from her.

I’ll know you by Heart is Kimberly’s first, in a long list of published works. The characters feel like people I know. The story speaks for itself. Stephanie pulls her and her children, away from a cycle of abuse and finds an inner strength, a belief in self, and help from God. She also finds Jared. He is man who passed through his own refiner’s fire. He didn’t know, but he’d been waiting his whole life to find her. The love they share grows, and becomes the blessing of a lifetime.

Yes, I received a free book, but my ethics would not allow me to recommend something I didn’t believe you will love, but hang on to your hat. Even if you never experienced any of the many forms of abuse, this book will grab your attention. Kimberly wrote it in a tasteful realistic way. Your heart will go out to the characters. You will love it.

Publisher: Valor Publishing Group, LLC (March 16, 2010)
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Binding: Trade Paperback
Pages: 275
Language: English
ISBN-13: 978-1-935546-13-9
Product Dimensions: 6 x 9 inches

Look for Kimberly and her book at these places. Find her at one of her many book signings and get her to sign your book.
http://scribbledscraps.blogspot.com/
http://www.kimberlyjob.com/

An Explanation

2010-04-12T16:27:00.006-06:00

I had someone ask what are writer's eyes? so I rewrote a blog I posted on LDS Writer's Blogck in 2006. This is the concept of this blog site.

Looking at Life through a Writer's Eyes

By Keith Fisher

Have you ever noticed the look on someone’s face as you explain why you love to watch people? Have you ever drafted a whole scenario to explain somebody’s expression? Did you love to play make-believe as a child? Have you ever seen a clump of grass up close and visualized the whole world existing below the blades?

Are your friends tired of you taking time to analyze the feasibility of a joke? Do you shush people while you listen to a rainstorm? Do you edit your daydreams?

If you answered yes to these questions you probably look at life through a writer’s eyes.

Writers, like children, see the wonder in common things. They lay on their belly gazing at the bare spots between clumps and grass and imagine Traveling through Tolkien’s Mirkwood Forest. The tiny sticks and little pebbles, become huge logs and boulders, under their watchful gaze.

Writers live in a world of imagination, grudgingly taking time to be adults and do adult things, but they are happy playing with their children and their children’s toys. They sit down, intending to write for ten minutes, and the next thing they know, it’s three a.m. and they have to get up in a couple of hours to go to work.

Writers take notes, they really do. Although, sometimes they are writing in church and miss the second meeting entirely, because they’re in the zone and they can’t bare to stop. Looking at life through writer’s eyes causes you to see a plot twist in your friend’s misfortunes. Of course you have sympathy for them, but you take mental notes for future stories.

No. There is nothing wrong with you, and there are many, many others with the same afflictions. We live our lives in a, what would happen if mode. While the rest of the world is starving for entertainment, we explore new worlds and write about what we find.

Your writer’s eyes will bless you in ways you cannot imagine. They help you see things other people miss. Things that open up myriad concepts, plot twists, character traits and sometimes whole stories, not only can be, but will be gleaned from a simple experience. Remember who gave you the talent and never abuse it. Keep your content clean and uplifting. Build others, the way your Father in Heaven has helped you.

The Old Man and the Sea

2010-04-06T18:54:00.004-06:00

By Keith Fisher

A man can be destroyed but not defeated. These words, Written by Ernest Hemmingway, symbolize the unconquerable spirit of Santiago, an old fisherman who has come to grips with life and refuses to give up.

After finding Hemingway’s books uninteresting, I decided to give him another chance. I read The Old and the Sea. It is considered to be the author’s best work, and many critics feel it departs from his other books. I had to agree. I found a theme Hemingway seemed to have missed before.

Ernest Hemingway, born in 1899, suffered from the prevalent myth of his time. Many young men believed they had to prove their manhood, and there was no better way than to fight in a war. The belief caused Theodore Roosevelt, and Rudyard Kipling to lose children in the Great War.

In large part, Hemingway wrote from a macho sense of honor, but in 1951, he wrote The Old Man and the Sea. It was published in 1952 and Hemingway won a Nobel Prize for Literature, in 1954. In the presentation speech, Anders Österling, said The Old Man and the Sea was an unforgettable story of an old Cuban fisherman's duel with a huge swordfish in the Atlantic. Within the frame of a sporting tale, a moving perspective of man's destiny is opened up; the story is a tribute to the fighting spirit, which does not give in even if the material gain is nil, a tribute to the moral victory in the midst of defeat. The drama is enacted before our eyes, hour by hour, allowing the robust details to accumulate and take on momentous significance.

Perhaps in later life, Hemingway began to think differently because it showed in The Old Man and the Sea. I’ve talked with many people about this book. Some of them liked it. Some hated it. This book, for me, ranks up there with the movies, Second Hand Lions, and Space Cowboys. Dealing with mortality and past glories is something every man must do eventually.

Hemingway died in 1961. I don’t think he found what he looked for. Men like he was, need to go out in a blaze of glory. Unfortunately, there aren’t many blazes of glory available. Besides, it takes more courage to live through adversity and infirmity. If for no other reason, than because people love you.

As for, The Old Man and the Sea, it brings up questions that every man and woman must face. Those questions can bring you closer to God.

Secret Sisters

2010-04-03T10:16:00.008-06:00

A book review, by Keith Fisher

I’ve been waiting a long time for this book to come out. When Tristi Pinkston brought Secret Sisters to our critique group two years ago, I told her this was her true calling.

Tristi is a historical fiction writer, and she’s very proud of that. She wrote Nothing to Regret, Strength to Endure, and Season of Sacrifice. She knows her way around historical research, but when I heard Tristi read Secret Sisters, I knew she is the master of many genres.

Subsequently, The publisher who originally purchased this book also published the successful, Agent in Old Lace, introducing the world to Tristi’s talent for mystery. I won’t say Secret Sisters is Tristi’s best work, but it is the best mystery.

Secret Sisters will take you into hilarious places and situations, introducing you to Ida Mae Babbitt, a quirky LDS relief society president, and her councilors, Arlette and Tansy. Together with Ida Mae’s nephew, and Arlette’s granddaughter, they discover a mystery. All the while trying to keep the bishop’s blood pressure from rising.

Here’s a quote from the book you might like.

“Aunt Ida Mae, help me test this,” Ren said, walking into the kitchen with a small object in his hand. He held it up, and Ida Mae gasped. It was a beautiful broach in the shape of a cat, with sparkling crystals embedded in it.

“Do you think Eden will like it?” he asked.

Ida Mae’s heart melted, Her dear boy was preparing to give a gift to his lady friend---it was so sweet.

“I think she’ll love it, dear,” she said, patting his cheek.

“Good, because she’s going to wear it every day.”

Ida Mae blinked. “What?” Surely he didn’t think he could dictate how often Eden wore it. It was a gift, after all.

“It’s a communicator. I call it a commlink. You push these buttons and it activates an alarm on the watch I’m wearing. I’m very proud of myself.”

Another quote is found just inside the cover, and it reflects the humor nested in the story:

The persons depicted in this book are professional fictional characters.
Do not try this at home.

When you read Secret Sisters, you’ll find yourself wishing it won’t end, but don’t worry, Secret Sisters is only the first in a long series of Ida Mae Babbitt mysteries. Follow the zany antics of the group as they stumble into one mystery after another. You’ll fall in love with Ida Mae and her cohorts. I recommend you read this book, and pass me some more of Ida Mae’s cookies.

The Sharp Edge of the Knife

2010-03-27T09:50:00.003-06:00

A Book Review by Keith Fisher

. . . but I wanted to see them punished for what they had put my husband—and my entire family—through. So I told the bailiff, “Yes I’ll talk to him.”

That was when Mel nearly had a fit. . . . “Honey,” I said, stroking Mel’s cheek. “The man is behind bars, and I’ll be standing next to an armed guard. You don’t have to worry about me.”

. . . He looked down at my belly—which was roughly the size of a basketball.
“I’m glad to see your baby is okay after all I done. Please, please forgive me.” To my horror, Gayle broke down and sobbed like one of my children . . .

The anger I had borne for the last several weeks drained away as I looked into Gayle’s tormented eyes. Suddenly all the things I wanted to say before were completely inappropriate. I was struck silent . . .

This excerpt from The Sharp edge of the knife is only part of a larger story about grace under fire. This story about Mel & Jeneal Peterson, and the car jacking that threatened Mel’s life, is full of great examples of how God watches over us. It’s a good read for anyone.

My Friend, Nichole Peterson Giles (DN Giles) has taken this true story and added depth of feeling that helps the reader experience the story. The narrative, written in two-character first person point of view, is masterful.

You will find your copy at Amazon, or on the author’s blog. The launch party is happening today March 27 at Eborn Books in the Provo Towne center, 1 p.m. Ask Nichole to personalize it for you.

D. N. Giles (Nichole)

2010-03-23T08:15:00.002-06:00

Since I’m scheduled to review, The Sharp Edge of a Knife, by D N Giles on Saturday, I felt it would be nice to chat with her today.

D N Giles (Nichole) is also the co-author of Mormon Mishaps and Mischief, but her chosen genre is Edgy YA Fiction. She writes a weekly blog on LDS Writer’s blogck and many others. She’s been published in The Friend magazine, and Highlights. She’s a member of Super Edits critique group, and a good friend of mine.

Nichole, how are you?

NG: Fantastic. I’m so excited about the release of my new book.

KF: Since you write YA Fantasy, The Sharp Edge of a Knife is a departure from that. What inspired you to write this story?

NG: Actually this particular book is based on true events that happened to my grandpa. Not long after he died, my grandma gave me a copy of his life history for Christmas, and I read it all in one day. There were several things about his life that I knew little or nothing about, but this particular incident really stood out to me. I couldn’t seem to let it go. That’s when I knew I had to write about it. It’s almost like my grandpa was in heaven whispering in my ear, telling me to get it done.

KF: As I’ve read this story about Mel, your grandfather, I’ve been impressed by his courage and his humility. Do you think he’d be embarrassed by all the attention? What do you think he’d say about the book?

NG: Probably. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked to talk about things like this. He really never made a big fuss about it, even when it happened. I think it was about all he could stand to talk to newspaper reporters and police and FBI agents. But I’d like to think he’s proud of me and this book, that he’s happy with the way I wrote it and that it’s being published. I feel like he is, so it must be true, right?

KF: I’ve heard biography writers say they felt close to their subjects. Did writing the book bring you closer to him? Tell us about it.

NG: Yes, it absolutely brought me closer to him. There was so much research involved in this, and so many things that none of us really knew. I really feel strongly that I had his help in finding the details and in writing the entire story.

KF: I understand you had the opportunity to interview one of your grandfather’s kidnappers. What was that like? Were you scared?

NG: It was so strange! Totally surreal. It wasn’t really scary because I only talked to him on the phone, and we were hundreds of miles apart, but it was definitely the most unique conversation I’ve ever had. He was actually very nice to me, seemed repentant and regretful. He kept apologizing and telling me how my grandpa changed his life. Only he kept calling him my dad. Which felt strange, but I ended up just going with it rather than correct him. I was all about finding facts.

KF: Your grandfather must have been a great man. In the book, you showed some of that change. Perhaps there was purpose in the experience for him.

I think we all have family traditions and stories that get repeated. When and how did you first hear this story?

NG: Wow. I’m not sure. I remember I was fairly little. And it wasn’t so much a story as it was a statement. Something like, “your grandpa was kidnapped once. That’s why we never pick up hitchhikers” kind of thing. But I have a vague memory of hearing that story on the road as we moved from Nevada to Utah, which means I was probably around six.

KF: I loved the way you portrayed your grandmother. Is she still with us? What if anything has she said about your book?

NG: Yes, my grandma is doing really well, actually, and I hope she sticks around for a long time to come. She was actually the first person to get a copy of my book besides me. She was completely instrumental in helping me research and in telling me her memories of what happened. We dug through her basement one day and found all the newspaper articles and a court subpoena, which was the very beginning of all my research. This book wouldn’t exist without her help. (Hi Grandma!)

KF: (Yes, Sister Peterson, I Drink to your health. You must be very proud of Nichole.)

I’ve read most of your work, and I know you write great fantasy. With the success of Mormon Mishaps, and now this book, do you see yourself writing another one like this? Tell us about what you are working on now.

NG: As far as writing in this genre, we’ll see. This particular book was a labor of love, but also required a lot. With this book, I had to write it because it wouldn’t leave me alone. And if that happens again, I’m sure I’ll have little choice. Otherwise, I’m working on several other things that take up all my writing time.

All my current projects are young adult paranormal or fantasy, and I’m really excited about breaking into the YA market. But the idea of doing a second Mormon Mishaps is not completely out of the question either. We’ll see.

KF: I noticed you’re offering a session with your critique group as a prize in your contest. Tell us about that, and tell us how being a member of a critique group has helped your writing?

NG: Critique groups are so important to the writing process. Other people can help you see important details you missed, can point out obvious plot holes, and just make you an all around better writer and author. My critique group (ahem) is especially great. Spectacular, fantastic, and a complete privilege with whom to be associated. Each member has a specific strength that I’ve come to rely upon to help improve my writing.

KF: Thank you very much, by the way, for the interview. I’m sure others have asked you the standard questions. So I’ll ask just one more. Give us one word that best describes you, and tell us why.

NG: One word? I’m a writer and you’re giving me one word? Hm. How about determined? I was determined to find the details for this book and get it written and published, and now it’s about to launch. Now, I’m determined to move forward with my next few projects and I definitely will.

KF: That’s a good word for you. I’ve seen that determination all the time and you inspire me.

The Sharp edge of the knife can be purchased at Amazon and other fine bookstores. The actual book launch is slated for March 27th at Eborn books in the Provo Towne Center mall, Provo, UT, 1-3 p.m.

She’s promised treats, prize drawings, books, and more. See you there, but stop by here first, and read my book review.

Dangerous Connections

2010-03-20T06:25:00.003-06:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

When I saw the cover, I knew I wanted to read this book by Julie Coulter Bellon. The Bio hazard symbol, gives you an idea of the plot, but Bellon weaves a tale of intrigue into the story that literally prods the reader to turn the pages.

As a writer, I read many books, a few of those I can’t put down. This is one of those books. As a critique group member, I’ve learned to read with a critical eye, and I admit, I found a few places that I would put red marks. However, the story carries the reader past those marks, because you need to find out what happens next.

Bellon, wrote an intriguing first chapter. Okay, I’m going to give you a spoiler alert here, because I need to talk about the story a little. A doctor, who’s been serving in Iraq, is on a plane coming into Paris and a woman is about to have a baby. Julie wrote that scenario in a way only a woman who’s had a baby could write it. I felt that I was there coaching her. The intriguing clues and red herrings start then and continually increase throughout the tale.

Of course there is an inevitable love story, and Bellon builds the relationship gradually more like real life. She created a strong female protagonist with a male sidekick/love interest who is subservient to her. Several times, I wanted him to stop asking her what they were going to do next, but it works.

If I were to give stars, bullet points, or whatever, I would give it a good rating. I recommend this book to everyone. It’s a great example of mystery/suspense, and women’s fiction. The story will keep you turning pages, as the plot unfolds.

Thank You, Julie, for letting me read your book.

You can find info about Julie, and the book here

Also at Deseret Book

Creating Lord Voldemort

2010-03-13T12:50:00.006-07:00

By Keith Fisher

Have you ever wanted something bad enough to be willing to do anything? I’m not talking about Almost anything, I’m talking about a desire so intense you would throw your life away?

Recently, on another blog, my friend wrote about passion. Her words made me think about the driving force behind what we do as writers. Then, I realized the subject was multifaceted. I considered the ramifications of the depths our passions can take us.

Life is full of temptation. My religion tells me it’s all part of God’s plan. It truly is the choices that define us. Have you ever wondered where some of those choices, if left unchecked, could lead?

In Harry Potter we read, "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Let’s use that story as an example for a moment. Basically, when you remove the supporting cast, there are two characters. There’s Harry, the protagonist, and Voldemort, the antagonist.

Harry is a nice guy, and we love him as he stumbles through life, reacting to forces he doesn’t quite understand. Even in death he chooses to sacrifice for his loved ones out of a sense of honor and duty. He continues the battle because he is the only one who can.

On the other hand, Voldemort followed his passions and made irrevocable choices that led him down a path of more passionate decisions.

As an author, It’s easy to use evil to paint the picture of a true antagonist. If we need motivation for why Voldemort is the way he is, we assume he’s evil. But, how did he get that way? Over the course of the whole series we discover some of the back-story. We learn about a boy named Tom Riddle. Somewhere along the way, the desire for greatness, and living forever, possessed him. He made irrevocable choices, and followed the path.

Clearly, the antagonist in this story is the more developed, passionate, character. Perhaps it’s wise to follow this example in all our character development. So, I ask you, what would your character be willing to throw their life away for? What are the passions motivating them?

If you’ve ever been driven by a desire, you know how it feels. You block out everything. Things that mattered before no longer have significance. From the time you wake up until you go to bed, everything is about your desire. Then it keeps you awake at night. Your obsession has relevance in everything. People worry about you, but you don’t care.

This is only a brief picture of obsession, but maybe you will get an idea of how Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort. I think of the characters in my books, and I realize some of them are not fully developed. More than that, I don’t write strong antagonists. (I wonder if its because I’m afraid I can’t control them).

However, I write feel good women’s fiction, and there’s not much of a need for a Voldemort character. Still, some of my characters could use a little passion. I need to draw a line in theproverbial sand and ask them what would it take to make them cross the line. Then with a greater understanding, I can show them as people with passion. They will be alive.

Extra! Tristi is lauching with Socks!

2010-03-12T13:37:00.003-07:00

By Keith Fisher

Tristi Pinkston, author of four books, is launching her new book, the first in a series, called Secret Sisters. I will be reviewing it here in the near future.

Anyway, in honor of one of the characters, Tristi is collecting socks for charity. You can get the details here at her blog site. Don't forget to shower Tristi with socks at the book launch March 16.

Charlotte's Web

2010-03-06T13:28:00.007-07:00

By Keith Fisher

Do you have any idea how many books there are, written by dead authors? Me neither. In trying to decide which one to read first, I stumbled on an old copy of Charlotte’s Web. I had seen the animated movie, but never read the book, so why not?

This book published in 1952, was the second children’s book by Elwyn Brooks White (E B White). His first success was Stuart Little. Yes, they made a movie of that one too. The author died 1985 and spent most of his life on staff at The New Yorker magazine.

Charlotte’s Web is a wonderful, feel good story, and I recommend it for every adult, as well as child reader. It won’t wow you, with magic, or exotic worlds. (Unless you consider farm life an exotic world).

The author shows a brief snip of what life was like in the late forties and fifties in rural America. He also does a great job of giving personalities to farm animals. The reader can’t help but be elated when the pig character is reprieved. They will feel sadness when Charlotte moves on, after providing for her children in the great circle of life.

This book, from a writer’s prospective, might not have been published today. It was written, and published, during a time when telling a good story was more important than the craft of writing, but White did a great job of both. Charlotte’s Web is a masterful example of writing in third person omniscient and jumps in and out of characters heads enough to keep the reader guessing. There were, however, a few times when I would’ve preferred to stay in Wilbur’s head.

With that said, perhaps you should also know, this author is the same E B White who edited and updated his college professor’s book. It became The Elements of Style by Strunk and White. It has been a treasured handbook for many writers.

If you want to get lost in a bygone world and learn a lesson about point of view, sneak into your children’s book collection. Tell your kids you’re doing research and ask them if you can read it to them.

Redecorating Relearning, and Renaissance

2010-02-27T12:00:00.009-07:00

By Keith Fisher
As promised, I stopped reading political science books, and I feel more relaxed. There is a lot of bliss in holding your tongue. As many of you know, I have an argumentative side, and I often talk too much, so, bliss is a new thing for me.

I’m reading three novels right now, one of them is for the Dead Authors society and I’ll be talking about it next time. I woke up this morning in shock. Realizing it’s Saturday, I wondered where the week went. On facebook the other day, I mentioned I was re-learning HTML, and trying to decipher CSS and XML. I was surprised to find my mind doesn’t concentrate like it did in the past.

Concentration hurts. I spent long hours in experimentation and went to bed each night with a headache. You may wonder why I’m putting myself through this, and I’m wondering too. I guess it’s a little pride. Back in the day, I put one of the first websites on the Internet. Well, that’s not saying much, because there seemed to be a billion pop up overnight.

I learned the hard way, through trial and error. When I got serious about writing I built my author's’ website from scratch. Now, there are drag and drop features at build your own places on the net. My friend used one of them, and it looks pretty good. I looked at mine and wondered if it looked immature.

There were always things I wanted to do with my website but could never figure out how. In those days the developers weren’t very forthcoming with secrets. But I built a site for the Greater Wasatch Dutch Oven Society and many people said nice things, but today, that site would look infantile.

Well, to make a long story short, I began to capture code. One thing led to another and I’m almost finished with my new website. I’m incorporating things I only dreamed of in the past. It’s just plain Jane, especially if you look at these two sites, (this one and this one), but I think it looks professional and I can say I understand the functions.

I started with a template and changed most everything. I’m still working on the languages and scripts, (hard to teach old dogs, you know). There are many sophisticated places on the net, even more so, than the ones above, but I’m figuring it out.

As a writer, I need a place to sell books, disburse information, and invite editors to learn more about my writing. I think I’m getting there. What do you think?

If you need a promotional website, there are many places to turn. As for content, Linda Formichelli wrote an article in the October 2008 Writer’s Digest, titled, the Anatomy of a Writer's Website. You can find it on the web, or in your public library. At least they have it in mine.

Leave comments and tell me which homepage you like best, and keep an eye out for the launch. My domain is www.knfisher.com or you can link to it on the left.

Hope Floats

2010-02-19T10:00:00.007-07:00

By Keith Fisher

I'm sorry for my procrastination. I have not kept up my blog. I don't have a dead authors society report today, because I've been mired in political science. Something has driven me to the research and study of many political parties and thought.

When I was younger, I studied history, and followed politics. In history, I found certain trends that continued to repeat themselves. In an effort to avoid those trends, I argued for, and against political policies and candidates. Some time ago, I became discouraged. It seemed society was too blind to see where they were headed, or they didn't care, being driven by their pride and greed.

I gave up on the quest to educate, or at least motivate, my fellow beings. I was but one voice in a crowded room of shouting people, everyone wanting to be heard.

As I said recently, I've been studying beliefs and my research reignited the flame. I wanted so badly for my friends to see what I see, so to speak. I felt like the character of John Adams in the movie, 1776. I wanted to sing the words, Does anybody see, what I see?

I had been sleeping, if you will, with eyes closed, apathetically hoping for a reprieve from repeating history, but there is a new kind propaganda preached today.

one of the results, was stated by Bill Moyer, a news commentator on PBS, ". . .we've also been robbed of memory, assaulted by what the Nobel laureate Czeslaw Milosz described as a "fantastic proliferation of mass media." We live in a time "characterized by a refusal to remember." Inconvenient facts simply disappear down the memory hole, as in George Orwell's novel, "1984.""

Another result is the refusal to see anything positive in government. There appears to be a group intent on destroying hope in our government, and in the Constitution, No matter who is in office. This group preaches gloom and doom, under the guise of God, family, and patriotism.

I've commented frequently on blogs and in other places about patriotism, and how many there were, who refused to stand with me, when the flag passed by in a parade. Then after 911 so many of them began to call patriotism into question.

Since my political rebirth, I've heard so much rhetoric that flys in the face of common knowledge. It's discouraging because I've seen the historical facts. Even recent historical facts. I'm left with a hole in my hope.

So I refuse to get involved in the debate. I choose to be a preacher of positves I choose to foster hope, put my political science books away, and write fiction. If you get discouraged, you are welcome to join me in my quest for hope. Let us all, refuse to criticize our leaders. Shun those who would preach gloom and doom. Hold onto our core values and don't let anyone call them into question. Just think. If there were enough of us, we could Conquer the world with positive hope.

Player Piano

2010-01-30T10:56:00.004-07:00

By Keith Fisher

Before Kurt Vonnegut died in 2007, He left the world a long list of books that make the reader think. He left words like these from his last book.

When the last living thing has died, on account of us. How poetical it would be if Earth could say in a voice floating up, perhaps from the floor of the Grand Canyon, “It is done. People did not like it here.”

Vonnegut earned the title of Author, by writing books and short stories that appealed to the counter culture of the fifties, sixties, and seventies. Now that those generations have grown up, his books are classic.

In looking over the titles, some of which I haven’t seen for years, I wondered which one should I choose? After consideration, I chose, Player Piano, because it speaks to an interesting time in history, a time when society worried about being replaced by computers.

Imagine that. We were paranoid about computers. In the story, we are brought into the world of a plant manager who, being concerned about his profitability, eliminated his employees, replacing them with computers. He soon discovered efficiency is not what he expected.

Player Piano, by Kurt Vonnegut is a good read. The story will leave you thinking about many aspects of your life. If you’re old enough to remember, The Twilight Zone, from television, You might recall an episode similar to the plot of this book.

Read Player Piano, if you haven’t already. Then, if you’re brave, you could venture into, Slaughterhouse Five, Cat’s Cradle or even, Breakfast of Champions. Be warned, however, there are some language issues.

Getting Frilly Awards

2010-01-26T11:00:00.004-07:00

By Keith Fisher

Ain’t it pretty? It’s a tag that tells me I’ve got a good blog. Well, it’s really just another self-promotion plan. The idea, when presenting the award, is to get the receiver to link back to your blog and call attention to more bloggers of their acquaintance. Then your network is increased and refreshed.

My friend, Kimberly Job, tagged me for this one, and I’m very grateful. She mentioned the frilly nature of the award and that I was the only man on her list, but I love getting mentioned.

As you know, I’m a writer of LDS fiction. When you work in the LDS market, or any market for that matter, you notice a preponderance of women versus men who also write. I suspect the ratio is greater in the LDS market, however.

It makes things like awards significantly feminine, but I don’t mind. Being the only man on the list makes me stand out and that can be good also, but when someone checks out my list of friends on Facebook, they might notice I have more women friends than men. What they don’t see, is my sub directory of friends. I divided them up into family, Dutch Oven cooks, high school acquaintances, close friends, other friends, and writers.

The writer’s list is significantly larger than the others, because I use Facebook to promote my writing career, and I include publishers and media types in the list. Of course the number of women, versus men is indicative.

So when I get noticed, and awarded a frilly tag, I’m grateful. When I get included in the girl talk at conferences I am honored. When I become the male prospective in critique group, I am elated. It means I’m succeeding in my promotional efforts, and I might be the successful writer I want to be, someday. It also means I can help romance writers get a grip on reality when they paint a picture of the hero in their books.

I don’t know who has already been mentioned on other blogs, so I will break the rules and only list a few. Thank you, Kim, for the mention.

See they are all women :)

The Dead Author's Society

2010-01-19T17:07:00.002-07:00

By Keith Fisher

In 2008, I wrote a blog on the LDS Writer’s Blogck about what I called a dead author’s society. Based on the 1989 movie, The Dead Poet’s Society, I wanted to periodically write about old books. Books Written by mostly dead authors, the books you were probably forced to read in school.

I kept up for a while, but other projects took precedence, and my Dead Author’s Society fell by the wayside. Now, I would like to resurrect the project, and review some of the classics.

When I launched the project before, I noticed that “The Classics” as many old books are called, are not necessarily good reading. The spark of that opinion has been the cause of many debates with several English majors and literature students of my acquaintance.

One of their favorite peeves is the success of Harry Potter VS Farewell to Arms, or other classic work. They analyze prose for rhythm and measure and diagram sentences to prove the value of the work. I contend that even if the writing isn’t perfect, there is precious value in a book that entertains. In other words, if it gets people reading, then it is good.

That doesn’t mean there is value in a work of sensational exposition, or graphic sex and violence, because there is none. Just because a movie appeals to baser instincts, doesn’t mean the story line is any good.

For this reason, in these reviews, I will be talking about some books by obscure authors (not necessarily dead), and books I would call classic, even though many of my English teacher friends might not. I may also lambaste a classic if I hate it, while I welcome opposing opinions and guest bloggers.

The Dead Author’s Society reviews, should not be confused with the new book reviews I often have the pleasure of writing. Those are reviews I do as part of blog tours to help promote a book.

Now, with that said, I found an Audio book copy of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein at the library and tried to listen to it. Listening and not reading, may have been a mistake, but I didn’t like it. The way the reader interpreted the narrative turned out to one long, whining session. Now I realize it’s a very emotional subject but after a while, I just wanted to slap Victor and tell him to man up.

I’ve since looked at the text and I have to admit, I interpreted it the same way, but I wonder if I would have, if I hadn’t been spoiled by the audio book. I hope you like Frankenstein in spite of what I’ve written here.

Another book, Captains Courageous by Rudyard Kipling, was a great coming of age story with pertinent lessons.

In Captains Courageous, We learn about a spoiled young man who gets pitched overboard from a cruise ship and ends up working on a fishing boat for several months before he returns to his rich family. The experience straightens him out and he gleans many lessons from his experiences. As you can tell, I loved it.

The Wheels of Progress-or Were They?

2010-01-12T10:58:00.006-07:00

By Keith Fisher

Back in the late seventies and early eighties, I heard a lot of rhetoric about Provo Canyon, and the North Fork subsidiary. South Fork was already mostly, in private hands. Traffic, and auto accidents was discussed, and the need for a wider road. Also discussed, was the state of North Fork under the direction of a rich guy.

Can I take you on a journey through my memory? In my childhood, before population grew, there were many magical places. Places like the old Geneva Resort, Saratoga park (With rides), and Provo canyon. None of which exist today.

Provo canyon was a narrow two-lane road with quaint picnic grounds strung out through the canyon. In those days, if you traveled up the road in the late afternoon, you could see campers lighting fires and experience the smell of fresh caught fish, frying in the open air. But there’s more.

I took a drive, to recharge my brain the other day. I drove up the canyon searching for unfiltered sunshine. I needed to get out of the haze caused by an inversion in the valley. It took fifteen minutes to get to Deer creek dam on a four-lane highway. I continued to midway, turned around and came home.

During that night, I remembered things I miss. Things my daughter will never see. What ever happened to the Chalet? To the claim jumper, (Although it wasn’t all that quaint) to Nunns power plant, Rotary Park, and the Bridal Veil Falls Tram? There were old places and wide spots in the road. A river, that flowed past cottonwoods and pines. Bringing back the Heber Creeper (Heber valley Railroad) was a great idea, but even that, changed the canyon.

I lament the loss of The Chalet Café. It was an old roadhouse, with the character that went along with that image. My parents never stopped there, I’m sure, because people drank beer in the place, but when I got older, I stopped in, and found the remnants of an old lodge with wood paneling, uneven floors and antique furnishings. The food was terrific, like mother used to make. Whether I stopped, or not, sometimes depended on where I was going, and how fast I needed to get there. I took comfort in seeing that place at the branch of South Fork.

When I was a kid, Wildwood and Spring city were places for rich people with summer homes. I couldn’t go there, but they were landmarks too. North Fork and the Alpine Loop were completely wild above Aspen grove before a movie star began to buy the mountain. Then, Timp Haven turned into Sundance, but you could still camp at Stewart falls via backpack trip.

The rhetoric I heard spewed by lawyers, talking about preserving the character of the canyons and keeping our wild places, wild, didn’t hold much value. I hardly ever go up North Fork anymore, because they’ve turned it into a rich man’s vision of nature. I feel like I’m a poor relative, treading in places I’m not welcome.

There was a time, in my childhood, when my family picnicked in the canyon. We laid out blankets on the orchard grass. Sometimes we’d get a picnic table. One time, on a hot day, we sat in the river and used a big flat, rock to set our food on. There were trailer parks and campgrounds, place markers and water fountains. I had a fond memory associated for almost every spot on the road.

In the eighties, we were promised, the new road would not detract from the atmosphere and views in the canyon. Now there is little left of the place I knew. The improved road allows a driver to go to Heber faster, and there are things to see, but who can look up from driving, to see them. There are, a couple of view area parking lots, but the views are not the same. The county took out the power plant at Nunnes and built a picnic area and campground. The reservation lists are long everywhere.

Yes, there is a bike, and jogging trail and I applaud the effort. There are spots of old road too, here and there. Hopefully they will keep them open for posterity, but the highway is far removed from the river and it hampers the view of the canyon from those places.

The free shooting range is gone, but the DWR claims Provo river is one of the best fisheries in the world. The original Canyon Glen was replaced. Can you remember the playgrounds and snack bar? There was a pay phone in front of Wildwood. It’s all gone. It lives in the memory of some of us, but it will never be seen the way it was. I guess it’s as it should be.

Although, I miss the old days, I’m not really complaining about the changes, I realize population dictated the need. The selfish use of North Fork, however, is another story. The thing that bothers me most, is the way the engineers and politicians lied. How they could sit on their campaign contributions and tell us the atmosphere of the canyon wouldn’t change, is beyond my understanding. It is NOT the same place.

Now, I can get to Deer Creek Dam in record time, but I remember a night when I raced up the canyon with the top down on my convertible. Hurrying up that winding road, trying to get to the dam before sunrise. The starlight above the walls of the canyon made our hearts glad. I parked on the south side of the dam, and stood on the sidewalk watching the sunrise over the water. It was beautiful, and then on the way home, we stopped at the Chalet for breakfast. When I was a child, we’d pause at the mouth of the canyon and get a drink from the water fountain, before driving home.

The wheels of progress keep turning. I suppose every generation laments the things that disappear. If I could offer just one piece of advice to the rising generations however, I would suggest you take lots of pictures and write in your journals. They will help you remember the good times and good places, and they will provide proof of what it used to be like.

Self Expression and Other Taboos

2010-01-04T11:21:00.001-07:00

By Keith Fisher

I wrote a blog for LDS Writers Blogck the other day, but I didn’t post it. After writing about protest songs, and being tolerant of other opinions, I realized the blog would be praised by some, lambasted by others. That’s not the reason, however, for not posting.

My writing has often gravitated toward an effort to evoke a response in the reader. I love to make people consider all sides of an issue, and I hope to gain friends in the process. Since there are eight of us with our names on the blog, and we all have different opinions I didn’t want to associate my friends with a political issue.

Also, as a writer, I want to enjoy a successful career. If I brand my writing as political, some might even say subversive, then I might lose readers before I even get any. For now, I want my name to be associated with great fiction. The kind of feel good, change your life, stories people read to be transported to places that encourage better behavior and love for fellow man.

With this in mind, I reserved the other blog, but please, in all your discontent, remember: You can’t force people to accept anything contrary to their core beliefs, and you can’t change those core beliefs through anger and coercion. Frustration breeds contempt, but when you open the curtain of revolution, what follows, is not always pretty, and the curtain can never be closed.

Mormon Mishaps and Mischief

2010-01-04T07:12:00.002-07:00

By Keith Fisher

What a great coffee table book. I have been reading this book in spurts and I loved it. As a culture, Mormons sometimes take themselves too serious. When something human happens in a church meeting, we love to laugh.

This book will provide reason to smile, and laugh out loud if you feel so inclined. It’s a compilation of many different true stories and incidents written by many different contributors. You will enjoy this look into our human side. Who knows, perhaps you will find a story to use in that talk you’re preparing.

You can find a copy in many places but here is one on the internet.

Before the Dawn

2009-12-15T18:11:00.003-07:00

A book review by Keith N Fisher

Like every writer, I have a long list of books to read. It’s one of the secrets to becoming a good writer. And, like every writer, I shuffle titles up and down the stack. Add magazines, critique chapters, and blogs, and my reading list grows. The books I read first, usually depends on whether I’ve been asked to review them or not.

I often read books for research, or to learn how other writers write, but many books get on my list just for reading pleasure. This one practically jumped into my hands the other day when I was between books.

Before the Dawn, came out in 2007, and I felt compelled to read it. Dean Hughes is one of my favorite authors, but that’s not why I wanted to read the book. The blurb from the dust jacket intrigued me, but it’s still not why I felt drawn to this book. Now that I finally got a chance to read it, I know why I was compelled.

We’ve all read books that affected us in one way or another. Before the Dawn touched me. I learned valuable lessons about pride and the secret needs of others, but mostly I learned a private lesson, one I’ve needed for a while.

From the book jacket:

When the Bishop calls Leah Sorensen to be relief society president, her first impulse is to assume he is joking. “They’d all vote against me if you put my name up,” she tells him. “And I’d vote with them.”

Also from the jacket:

They say it’s always darkest before the dawn, But will morning ever come?

You can find this book here or here. I liked it. I hope you will too.

An Angel on Main Street

2009-11-21T07:20:00.008-07:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

When you buy your short stories and novelettes to give as Christmas gifts, this year, I suggest you take a look at Kathi Oram Petersen’s new book, An Angel on Main Street.

This blurb from the back cover says it all.

Micah Connors promised his mother he would be good in their new town. But with Christmas only three days away, being escorted home by the sheriff does not bode well. Can the towering officer be trusted not to tell what happened?

Perhaps the ramshackle stable that has appeared on Main Street will sidetrack him from spilling the day’s events—or maybe his interest in Micah’s widowed mother will do the trick. The last thing Dawn Connors needs is to hear her son is in trouble. She has enough to worry about with her husband gone and her daughter, Annie, ill.

Even though Micah has told his sister the rustic structure in the middle of town is simply part of the town’s holiday decorations, Annie is sure that unseen angels are building the crude stable—which means baby Jesus is coming, and he can make her better.

Terrified that his little sister might die, Micah vows to find the baby Jesus for Annie, even if it is only a plastic doll. But as Micah gets nearer to his goal he finds angels are closer than he ever would have believed.

Aren’t all miracles supposed to happen at Christmas? It’s that time of year again, and this book will help you get in the mood. As a reviewer, I’m obligated to give an honest opinion, and I found a few mistakes, but it’s a Christmas story and will help motivate you to give of yourself for the season.

You can find your copies at the fine bookstores. Also, at the Covenant website.

Softcover 6” X 9”
112 pages
ISBN 978-1-59811-721-9

God Bless, and happy holidays.

The Ball's In Her Court

2009-11-12T09:59:00.004-07:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

As a member of Heather Justesen’s critique group, I’ve battled with her over comma placement and the logistics of plot lines. She’s a good writer, and I’m pleased to offer my review.

Other’s have said how excited they are, and I too, have been looking forward to the release of her new book, The Ball’s in Her Court. Reading this first book in a saga of interconnecting characters reunited me with players I came to know in later books. Although, Heather has written stand alone, non-series books, I couldn’t wait to read about the characters of the saga, and find out where they came from.

In critique group, we’re currently reviewing another in the series and the characters remain true. I feel we have a history together.

The Ball’s in Her Court is a great beginning, and will leave you with a sense of peace. The reader is taken on a journey of sorrow, and through feelings of self-doubt. Bringing us, in the end, to the destination of a healed heart.

I’m proud to recommend The Ball’s in Her Court to everyone. If you don’t already have one, you will find it at a bookstore near you, or at Amazon.com.

Paperback: 256 pages
Publisher: Cedar Fort, Inc.; 1st edition (October 1, 2009)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1599552345
ISBN-13: 978-1599552347

All Hallow's Eve

2009-10-20T21:34:00.006-06:00

By Keith Fisher

It’s that time of year again. I’ll be getting dressed up to sit on the porch reading or writing while the kids come and help themselves. A couple of years ago, I read Harry Potter, dressed as see no evil, hear no evil . . . well, two out of three ain’t bad. I put some funny teeth in my mouth, and taped a head on each shoulder. One head wore a sleeping mask. The other wore headphones. All three heads wore wigs. The costume was cute, and I got a lot of reading done.

Last year, I dressed in lights and did some writing. This year has me stumped. Not the costume, but the writing. My work in process has kicked me in the behind many times. It’s currently called The Bed and Breakfast and I keep finding problems. The ladies in my critique group have been patient lifesavers.

My Brother’s Keeper has been sidelined. In my efforts to be a good writer, I ended up making the narrative choppy so I need to take it apart and rebuild it. Eternal Tapestries has gone through at least a dozen rewrites, and I’m waiting for inspiration. Each rewrite made it better. Soon, it will be the story I wanted it to be.

The Trophy is written, but I put it on the back burner while I worked on The Bed and Breakfast. The Only Key, All that Glitters, and Shadow Boxing are in different stages of development. They’re waiting for other things to be finished. Season of Promise, a sequel to Eternal Tapestries, is written, but I’m going to add more to the story.

There are thirteen books in my project file and eight other projects that are only story ideas, so far. There are three short stories, a dozen articles, and a pile of published blogs. There’s a stack of books I need to review and another stack I want to read for fun.

So I contemplate. What should I write on my porch this year? As you can see, this blog isn't about goblins and spooks. Since Halloween marks my progress over the year, this is and update about my projects.

Stick with me and come along for the ride. I’m in a learning period right now, but I expect to come through it with many fruits of my labor. At least, The Bed and Breakfast, My Brother’s keeper, and Eternal Tapestries will find a publishing home.

Am I Not a Man

2009-10-17T08:44:00.005-06:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

Since I was given an advance reader’s copy of Am I Not a Man--The Dread Scott Story, and asked to read and review the book, I’ve been captivated. The story behind this, perhaps, the most famous court case in United States history brought tears to my eyes.

I must admit I had preconceived notions about the book. With Schindler’s List, Dances with wolves, The Work and The Glory, and countless others. Many books play upon our sympathies, and I was prepared for yet another, but I found the effort in research was obvious throughout, and a refreshing weaving of fact was presented.

I delighted in the staging of a conversation between two of my personal heroes, Thomas Jefferson, and James Madison. They both regretted making compromises in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution respectively. The hypocritical feelings of many were expressed in that conversation, along with other story lines throughout the book.

The thing that impressed me most, however, was the way the story leads the reader into the realization that our country was given two opportunities to abolish slavery. Both were during the drafting of two of our greatest documents.

Since those warnings were left unheeded, it becomes clear, through the reading of this book, the hand of a Higher Power took matters into His own hands. Dred Scott was the instrument. His lawsuit was the catalyst. Abraham Lincoln was the instigator.
Yes, I recommend the book to everyone. The expressed humanity will delight you---the historical information will educate you.

I’m told there will be illustrations in the hard cover release, but I became curious. I searched the Library of Congress, and found the attached newspaper article. It illustrates the attention the country was giving the case. This is a family of obscure slaves that turned the Supreme Court upside down, and helped set in motion the emancipation proclamation

You can preorder your copy here
You can read about Valor Publishing here

Remembering an Old Friend

2009-10-07T20:23:00.006-06:00

By Keith Fisher

In my life, something often happens to make me pause and reflect. I never know what it will be, the birth of a child, the loss of a job, or the death of a loved one. In March, I had one of those experiences, and since I’m the author of this particular soapbox, I want to use this blog to tell you about it.

During my daily trip to the hospital to visit my dying father, I crossed the lobby to the elevator and bumped into a woman I hadn’t seen in at least twenty-five years. She was the mother of my good friend, Sterling, and I tried to help her remember me.

She told me her son was dying of cancer and he lay in ICU upstairs. I stepped into the elevator to visit him on the way up to see my dad. My mind went back to the seventies, to a time when life was a mixture of parties. Before I grew up and rediscovered the Church.

I met Sterling, right after he’d been discharged from the service. Another friend told me Sterling had once been his Sunday school teacher, and Sterling had served a mission too.

My friend seemed aloof from all that, and he loved to party. He personified the saying, eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die. I quickly discovered he was generous to a fault. It didn’t matter if I didn’t have money, if Sterling had some, we partied. Sterling got a job driving a truck and he took me on a few trips with him.

One time on a trip to phoenix, we spent a week in a motel waiting for a load. I learned a lot about picking grapefruits on the motel grounds, and I learned a lot about my friend. We finally got a load out of San Diego, and headed south. Sterling pulled over in the middle of the night on the way to Yuma, climbed into the sleeper, and told me to drive.

I was nervous, I didn’t have the right kind of driver’s license, but I drove an eighteen wheeler, with a two-stick transmission. That’s 5 on one and 4 on the other. I learned from watching him, He slept and I grinned, a lot. Yeah thats me driving the truck. I was 24 years old, and I still had hair on top.

In the hospital, Sterling was hooked up to dozens of machines. I barely recognized him through the oxygen tent and his body was resting. I was at a loss. What do you say to a dying man you haven’t seen for over twenty-five years? His Nurse said he’d had a hard night, and a bad time of it, so I let him sleep, intending to return. I never did.

With Dad dying upstairs in hospice, my thoughts were directed toward my family. Dad died shortly after that, and I was assigned to make funeral arrangements. I had to write an obituary and take some pictures to the mortuary, but I happened to glance at a newspaper and found a death notice for Sterling. It listed birth date, death date and the time of a graveside service. No funeral, no obituary, no frills whatsoever.

The service was scheduled for that day, and I still had to request the grave opening for Dad. I dressed in a shirt and tie, and went to Sterling’s service. What a day! I stood there watching a few relatives and church members. They seemed surprised to see an old friend. There were two of us.

We waited for half an hour and finally, Sterling's body arrived. His mother opened the pressed cardboard casket and we said goodbye to a man who’d been one of my best friends.

We lost contact with each other over the years. I got religion and went on an LDS mission. He drove truck and got on with his life. When I knew him, Sterling had dozens of friends. At the service, I wondered where they were. I talked to the only other old friend and he told me he hadn’t seen Sterling in four years. In order to quit drinking, he had to distance himself from Sterling, and the bad influence.

He confirmed what I already knew. Sterling was a good man. He really cared about people. He worried about his nephews and his sister. Sterling gave away more money than he ever had. Here was a man who, even with all his faults, deserves to be remembered. I decided to write this memorium. I'm just sorry it took so long.

Now, I visit Sterling’s grave and I wish he could be remembered the way he deserved. I hope his old friends will think of him now and then. I look at the grass-covered earth that is his final resting-place and I think of a poem by Sam Walter Foss. It’s in the public domain so I will include it here:

House by the Side of the Road
By Sam Walter Foss

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat
Nor hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife,
But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

My friend Sterling wasn't perfect. but then who us is? He served a mission for the right reasons, and he served his country. Sterling was kind and generous, Sterling was a friend to man.

In memorium

Sterling Franklin Larsen 1951-2009

Good luck my friend. May all your roads be paved and may you find the sunrise over the next hill.

Prayers That Bring Miracles

2009-09-26T09:34:00.002-06:00

When I was asked to review Prayers that Bring Miracles, by Stephen M. Bird I never dreamed it would be just what I needed. I must admit, I’ve heard the story before. Published in 1997, The book is timeless. Brother Bird walks the reader through a story of when he was a Navy Chaplain and teaches valuable lessons about prayer.

The lessons, when understood, will help increase faith in getting answers to life’s questions, and help with trials. Above all, in my opinion, The lesson, that God loves all of us and wants to give us wonderful blessings, is the most valuable piece of information in the book. The fact that anyone of any religion can talk to his/her Father in Heaven like someone conversing with a close parent is very comforting.

I recommend this book to everyone and I hope you will find peace in troubled times.

The Peace Giver

2009-09-03T18:51:00.002-06:00

A book review by Keith Fisher

At the suggestion of a friend, I read the book. It surprised me to find it was fiction. With the title, and the cover art, I thought it would be a non-fiction book about Christ. In my opinion, the gospel message contained in the book could not be written except in fiction.

The Peace Giver, Written by James L Ferrell, and published by Deseret Book, is the story of a marriage under siege. When Rick, the protagonist, and his grandfather, explore some of the ramifications of the atonement of Jesus Christ, Rick discovers truths he’d never thought of. The message may surprise you, as you learn what it really means to have a pure heart.

The doctrine in the story rings true and the reader will learn valuable lessons. I would recommend this book to everyone. While reading, I put myself in the protagonist’s place and learned things about myself I never knew. I believe you will too.

For more info and an interview with the author go to Meridian Magazine.
You can find a copy of the book and most fine bookstores, or at Deseret Book.

The Wise Old Tree Root

2009-08-27T10:03:00.005-06:00

By Keith fisher

Years ago, we lived in a one-and-a-half-bedroom house with a nice yard. It was in a great neighborhood and we liked the ward. Since the house was too small for us, we decided to remodel.

I wanted to keep my garden space, so the plan called for a second story. In order to accomplish that, I needed to shore up the foundation. (Now, don’t laugh). Since I had to dig around the foundation, which was on top of the ground, I decided I would dig a basement, by hand, under the house.

(I asked you not to laugh.) If you lived where I did, I bet you’d laugh all the harder, because there are more rocks than dirt. I think you can imagine some of the problems that arose. Things like, how to transfer the dirt from under the house, Where to dump it, and how to keep the whole house from falling into the hole.

With a little ingenuity and a lot of help, we managed. I jacked up the house and supported it on a steel beam, and we felt safe. We lashed three lodge poles together and made a tripod with a rope pulley, then we filled five-gallon buckets with dirt and pulled them out the hole with the rope. Each bucket was emptied into a dump bed trailer my dad built. He found a hillside in need of backfill, and got permission. I never counted the loads but there were many.

I spent a lot of evenings and Saturdays under my house with a pick and shovel. One day, while under-mining the dirt face, I accidentally freed a giant dirt clod. I didn’t get out of the way in time, and it knocked me to the ground. Partially buried, I managed to wriggle out from under the clod, but I took better safety measures after that.

In the digging, there were many benefits and valuable lessons. I learned about cave-ins and found a cheap solitary way of getting exercise. I got a lot of thinking done too. There were many discoveries some impressive, some only entertaining, but we found cool rocks We still haven’t identified, tools in good shape probably left there by the house builders. We have antique gizmos left behind over 90 years of occupancy. I even found an almost full can of arsenic. Sounds like a good plot for a book doesn’t it?

On another day, I dug out an old root. Whichever tree it came from had long since quit getting water from it. The reason, I suspect, was because the house was built on top. Whatever the reason, I found it suspended between several rocks, and sat down to analyzed it.

I thought of dozens of object lessons that my root could teach me. Tree roots, like the above ground limb counterparts, want to grow round and straight, following the path of least resistance. My root was once young and thriving, trying to find the best source of water for the tree. But it had to sort through a path of obstacles.
It grew crooked, and there were flat spots, where it forced its way between rocks barely one-sixteenth of an inch apart. It continued to grow even though it had to change its course, and it changed itself. It grew through the hard and adverse parts and kept going.

Yes, there are many lessons to learn from the example of the root, like not letting adversity win. Or being movable, teachable, and having an open mind. The lesson I’m currently learning is about Jesus and the atonement.

I’ve learned that each of us can compare our lives to my root. We have scars and bends, places where we barely squeezed through. Life was never intended to be easy. But if we repent and believe Christ, the atonement will make our lives perfect and new. We can be like a new tree root, round, straight, and beautiful.

Then we’ll begin to see ourselves as God sees us, children of a loving Father in Heaven.

I finished the foundation in my house, but I never put a floor in that basement. We pushed aside our renovation plans, and moved two blocks to the South. I succeeded in creating a great root cellar. When we moved, I brought a piece of the wise old tree root with me. It sits on a shelf above my desk and reminds me of the lessons I must learn in order to be the child God wants me to be. The person, I want to be.

Oh, No, Not another Blog

2008-09-05T09:12:00.005-06:00

by Keith Fisher

Yep, another blog. I’ve been on LDS Writer's Blogck since 2005, and I created The Camp Cook in Your backyard for Dutch oven and Camp cooking. I'm also, the author of three current websites, but they aren’t interactive. I needed a blog dedicated to my writing career. An author's drawing card—a place to post book reviews, and contests.

Since I'm almost finished with, The Bed and Breakfast, I'll need a place to keep you informed of the progress as it goes to the publisher. I also, intend to post articles for inclusion in magazines and Newsletters.

So, I launch this new blog knowing full well that there are perhaps a million writers sites. So, check back often. I need the support. I hope to show what it's like to look at life, through my writer's eyes.