So, You Want to Write a Memoir

I have written several novels and have published two memoirs, my memoir Starving Girl and my mom’s memoir The Memory Catcher.  

My mom author and researcher Sarah Hinze and I being 

photographed for our local newspaper.  2103

I find reading and writing memoirs meaningful to the things I know to be eternally true.  I feel as we do simple, yet extraordinary things, our personal stories are magnified and meaning is everywhere.  Here are a few tips to get started:

1)     Find the most meaningful part of your story.  For me, it was my first 30-days of fasting.  I wrote in real time, but much of my memoir looked at past experiences.  Look through your blog, facebook, old journals, photos, etc.  Find your angles, quirky unusuals, meaningful life lessons, etc. See if you have one life experience bigger than the others.  What are the common themes?  What part of your life is your best story? 

2)     Don’t get too stuck on dates.  Most biographies do not read like my book, where dates are the start of each chapter, but do try to start a chronological path of each meaningful experience.  Think of Erin Brochovich, Julie and Julia, Eat Pray Love, Wild, The Glass House, etc.

3)     Don’t get lost in the details, at first.  The details will come later.  Be very general, but once you have your outline finished, I want you to put yourself right back in that scene and think of your emotions.  Emotions are the best teachers.  At this point, I want you to get specific.  More ideas will flood your mind.  Keep going.  Go detail crazy. Think of your senses.  Bring in past experiences that might be significant at this point.  Your input has no boundaries.  Ask yourself questions.  Research your own ideas.

4)     The start of your book should be a gripping, emotional story to pull the reader in.  The event maybe didn’t even happen during your “best life story”, but it is a monumental experience that opened your eyes to what?  Love?  Adventure?  Commitment?  Overcoming?  Whatever it is, and you probably haven’t written this scene, start digging to get it done.

5)     I kept my baggage out of my book.  This doesn’t mean I’m not revealing or even vulnerable, but I tried to focused every story on strength, overcoming and self-discovery.  No preaching and no gossiping.  I spoke very kindly of my loved ones, because I love so many of the people who make their way into my book.  I made a point to not reference “You.” Or make generalizations about what most people might think or do.  Everything I wrote about was written from the “I.”

6)     Pray like the dickens.  God has asked us to journal, to keep a family history, etc.  Although writing a memoir is not the same as writing in your journal, please know Heavenly Father will help you ( But you already know this.)

7)     If you don’t think you can write about a certain scene, write it anyway.  If it’s something embarrassing, revealing, shocking, emotional, write it generally.  Think of scenes you’ve read in other books like the scene in Wild when Cheryl had to shot her mother’s horse or when Elizabeth Smart wrote about her rape in My Story.  When I wrote Starving Girl, I imagined everyone close to me reading it.  I had to remind myself most of the people I know won’t even read my memoir.  I had to write the story for me and there were certain necessary scenes I had to make fit.  Second of all, your story is intended for a bigger audience.  Be silly, don’t take yourself too seriously.  Write it for your own sake and decide later if you have the courage to include it in your memoir.  For me, in the writing I found the courage to overcome.  

8)     Write and then, we-write.  Edit, write and re-write.  Write, put it away, work on another scene, then go back and read your previous work.  Rinse and repeat, ok, don’t rinse.

9)     Keep a log of ideas.  I would be out on a walk or folding laundry, and an idea would come to mind.  You don’t want to lose any of this.  I would speak into my phone and email my ideas to my computer.  Don’t think, “Oh, I’ll remember it later.”  This is a trap.  Take your ideas seriously.  Invest in yourself.

10) Listen to motivational talks.  Be inspired.  Read memoirs.  Listen to audio books.  Study your favorite authors.  Research their lives.  When people ask “What do you do?”  reply, “I’m an author.”  Start looking at yourself differently. 

11) Ask yourself, “What is it I want to say?”  What do you wish was out their in literature?  Have you found it?  Write the book you’d want to read.  Say the things you’d want to hear.  Be the voice.  Be strong in your convictions (without preaching). 

12) Do not seclude your audience by clinging to certain religious or cultural differences.  Be more general with these ideas, as they might turn certain readers off. 

13) Keep the flow.  Once a story ends, end it.  Do not analyze things to death.  Allow the reader to fill in some of the gaps.  Don’t write, “My husband is the best.”  Instead, write about a time he proved he was the best.  Show, don’t tell.

14) Allow us into your mind.  Let us hear the pros and cons.  Let us hear your inner battle, the courtroom drama, etc.  The inner growth and struggle is a key part of the story.

15) If you have written on your blog or kept a journal, many of your stories are already in their first–draft format.  If possible, use some of your past writings to propel you forward and think, “I’m so glad I kept this stuff written down.”

Remember, every rule can be broken if necessary to share your story.  So, there you have it.  Writing your own memoir is a thrilling, rewarding journey that I think more women should experience.  Your life story has real villains and heroes, adventures to unknown destinations and gripping accounts of overcoming.  Email me at mydeartrash@gmail.com if you have any questions.  Happy Writing.

Find it on Amazon and Kindle.

Find my book trailer on youtube by clicking here.

Find The Memory Catcher here.

Book trailer here.  

My Mother's Attempt to Ban Partial Birth Abortion

My parents have moved to London for six months. You can read about that here. I should be fine, right. I have a loving husband, six amazing children, brothers and sisters, amazing in-laws and friends, but lately, I’ve noticed something is missing. It’s quality time with my mom.

There’s a tiny hole in my heart. It reminds me my mom is not here. 

If I acknowledge it, I can feel it grow weepy, even pitiful, but I’m trying to move on, stay busy, share love, see the big picture so I can move past this tiny hole before it grows too big.

My mom and I text and we’ve talked a few times on the phone. When she calls, it’s like a dam releases in my heart. I tell her my goals, my dreams, my experiences and she lovingly listens, encourages, oooohs and aaaahs at my ideas, reminds me I have special things to do with my life and that I am her “little humanitarian,” a term I hold dear to my heart.  The first time my mom called me a humanitarian, I felt like I’d been given a noble calling.

My mom has spent her life searching and manifesting for ways to feel God. 

My mom with my daughter Eden in 2002.

She’s a mother, one of the most beautiful paths to feeling God’s presence I can think of. She’s a wife, nurturing a commitment of love that will last an eternity. She’s a writer, a deep thinker, one who asks questions and finds ways to answer them. She’s also a doer. Even against the odds, she follows her heart.  Here is one such example:

In 1997, my mom had an impression she should go to Washington D.C. during the partial birth abortion hearings, following which Congress would vote regarding the legality of this horrendous “medical procedure.”

Partial birth abortion was a new term, although not a new procedure. The public was not aware that these types of abortions were taking place, let alone legal. Many in Congress wanted to ban this “frankensteinian” procedure.

Partial birth abortion takes place when a woman is in her third trimester and the baby is viable.  In other words, the baby could be born premature and survive, but is aborted before taking its first breath. The mother is fully dilated, the baby’s head crowns when the abortion doctor inserts a sharp scissor-like instrument through the soft spot into the infant’s brain, killing the baby before it ever has a chance to let out its first cry. As long as the baby has a foot still inside the mother, “it is not born” and the procedure is legal. If the baby is outside the mother, the procedure is murder.

In 1997, my parents were struggling financially, but with careful budgeting, my mom found a way to pay for the flight. She knew this wasn’t a time to sit and watch history take place around her. She needed to be bold and she would do it. She wanted to share with law makers on Capitol Hill her books on prebirth studies, providing solid evidence that unborn children are alive. She contacted her Congressman, with whom she was acquainted, and told him she wanted to share her research, with him and others. He was familiar with her books, particularly Coming From The Light (Simon & Schuster) and agreed that it was a good idea.

She scheduled her trip and once in D.C., stood in line until she was finally allowed entry to listen to the debates by United States Congressmen and Senators. Standing in line, there were people around her screaming and yelling, “Don’t stop partial birth abortion.  It is a women’s right to choose.” She remembered thinking, “It feels like a hole has been punched in the wall of hell and these people came out to fight for the right to kill innocent children.”

Once inside the building, she saw one of the most valiant of all warriors for the unborn, Henry Hyde, a U.S Senator from Illinois. He walked past her, not knowing who she was. She handed him a card she had prepared before leaving home with a quote she had written down that he had previously said, to perhaps use in her talk:

When the time comes as it surely will, when we face that terrible moment, the final judgment, I’ve often thought as Cardinal Fulton Sheen wrote, that it is a terrible moment of loneliness. You have no advocates there, you are there alone standing before God, and a terror will rip your soul like nothing you can imagine. [By contrast], I really think that those in the pro-life movement will not be alone. I think there will be a chorus of voices that have never been heard in this world but are heard very beautifully and very loudly in the next world and I think they will plead for everyone who has been in the [pro-life] movement.

They [the aborted] will say to God, “Spare them, because they loved us.” And God will look at us and ask not, “Did you succeed?” but “Did you try?”

Henry Hyde, a mighty and valiant voice, spoke eloquently and emotionally about why partial-birth abortion should be outlawed. People in the audience were moved to tears. Voting wouldn’t take place for days, so my mom walked the halls of the congressional building, hoping to speak with anyone she could influence. She stopped Rick Santorum and handed him her book. He thanked her for what she was doing and explained, “My wife wrote a book about our baby that died and what that baby taught us about the sanctity of life.”

My mom handed out at least fifty books that day, mostly to interns who worked for congressmen and senators.  Her congressman arranged for her to speak at a caucus meeting in which researchers like her could share their latest findings. Reality set in, but she found courage in the right to life messages of others who had spoken earlier. Several congressmen sent their aides and she spoke to a group of people in a room in the Rayburn Building on Capitol Hill.

Who does this?  Can you imagine the courage, the gumption, the determination to not only travel across the country, but into the heart of our nation’s capital, not knowing where you’re journey will take you, only hoping something good will come from it.  When my mom and I wrote her biography The Memory Catcher, I started to understand the enormous capacity of her character. 

In 1997, banning partial-birth abortion passed by congressional vote, but Bill Clinton vetoed it.  Partial-birth abortion was still legal.  It was a sad reality.  I remember that day, asking my mom what she would do now that she’d lost.  Would she still be the researcher of the unborn?  Would she still write about prebirth studies?  Was there any hope for those children facing abortion?  I’ll never forget what she said.  With optimism and personal conviction, she said, “Oh, Laura, all is well.  We may not be able to change the laws, but we can change hearts.” 

My mom set the way for not only many children who’s lives have been saved, but for me.  

This is my mom: activist, researcher, believer and most importantly, she’s one who makes it happen.  You think of all the fanfare people expect.  The applause, the standing ovation, worldly success – my mom only wanted to help a baby. There's not much to criticize about that.  You see, she’s had a miscarriage before she ever started writing about the unborn.  Losing this baby and later having a dream about that baby made her ask the question, “Where are our children before they are born?”  With this experience, her life’s mission was born. 

Here she is 30 years later speaking at the United Nations.

I don’t think I’d be on this path if my mom had not moved to London.  If she still lived down the street, I’d be skipping my way over there for lively conversation and the party atmosphere her and I always create when we are together.  My mom is fun and even when we are serious, there is a party going on.  But with her gone, our relationship has changed.  It has matured. Memories mean so much.  Subconsciously, I’m searching for her in my everyday purpose and life calling.  Her example is something I want to emulate, even if just for a moment to feel her near.  Her accomplishments have become magnified.  Because I helped her write her memoir, I am a scholar of her work.  I see this influence in my life and want it to grow.  What talents do I have that can help?  What talents can I develop to carry her tradition on? Saving the unborn is part of my heritage and I beg your pardon, as I take a giant step over political correctness and find my way.  

Partial birth abortion was banned in 2003 by President Bush, but the controversy lives on, because in late-term abortions, this barbaric procedure and similar tactics still take place today.

In my book Starving Girl - My 30-day Experience with the Miracle of Intermittent Fasting and Prayer, I reflect on being raised by an activist mom, facing the reality of abortion after I was sexually abused, and learning how food addiction and negative body image was a cover up for shame and hurt.  

My mom's book The Castaways is celebrating 15 years.  You see, it didn't take long for my mom to ask the question, "What happens to the soul of an aborted child?" Through compelling evidence and research, she attempts to answer that question. 

My journey - what now?

I’m not sure how many times I’ve sat down to write my story about sexual abuse.  I start a page, maybe finish a chapter and 6 years ago I wrote an entire 300 page novel.  That first novel was fiction, of course, but the story was about me.  I’m there in every page.    

From day to day, my motive changes.  One day I want to write for healing; another day I want to write to help others and some days I want to write to explore.  But, every day I can’t help what I write; for writing has been most healing and I have to let it carry me where it wants. 

What do I want to share?  What will help other people suffering the most?  Could my story prevent others from being hurt?  Can I do it?

As I get older, I’m so impressed with people who share their unique challenges and trials; their hurts and fears cupped with spoonfuls of hope.  

My favorite books of 2014 include A House in the Sky by Amanda Lindhout

 My Story by Elizabeth Smart 

and Finding Me by Michelle Knight.   

The heartache and fear; the horror and despair, but these girls found a way through there abuse.  They over came in such a triumphant way, their courage and faith like fireworks during a thunderstorm.  These girls are my hero’s and I strongly recommend these memoirs to anyone. 

I’m finally at a place where my past no longer hurts me.  It’s been this way for a couple of years now.  This is because of my Savior, Jesus Christ and also because of the tender, nurturing love of my husband.  My story now feels just like that – a story.  Some days, it’s even easy to forget that scared hopeless girl was me.  In many ways I’ve overcome, but almost every angle of my character has been built on my struggles of overcoming. 

Where I was once vulnerable, I’m now acutely aware.

Because I was hurt, I’m now able to see the hurt in others.

The loneliness I once felt serves as a constant source of gratitude; for I never forget the blessings that surround me. 

I’ve always been happy; that was one element not taken away from me; but now I’m happy deep down to my soul – not just as a coping mechanism.

I most relate to teenage and young adult girls, because this is the age my life took a difficult turn.  It took me nearly a decade to get back on track.

Because of my healing, I could move on easily.  No longer do I have flash backs when my husband touches me a certain way, no more panic attacks at strange hours of the day, but something inside of me says “Don’t forget.” 

About a year ago, I started project:USED.  

www.projectused.com

You can read about my inspiration for project:USED here.  It was an incredible undertaking with so much support, but I’ll never forget how vulnerable I felt releasing the video.  Days before the release, I cried into my husband’s shoulder.  What was I feeling?  Was it shame?  Hurt? Fear?  I’ve always been good at keeping secrets.  There have been so many things in my life no one was every supposed to know about.  I think the hurt came from breaking open a secret. 

I continue to discover my path.  I have a great desire to save.  Sometimes this come out in the way I salvage thrift store finds. It’s a fun way to save- to redeem.  My Dear Trash ( six years old now and almost 1,000,000 hits) is full of hope.  Where I once felt like trash, I found value again in myself.  I find a little bit of myself in every piece I work on.

Then I wrote my first novel The Mermaids Handbook of Secrets (originally titled Colors of the Sea).  

I explored scientist Rachel Carson and her desire to protect the sea and our environment.  I’ve always loved Rachel Carson and her books, even making her a major part of my studies through my communication degree at ASU.  I took a postmodern twist on Rachel Carson and developed a character for the young adult audience that would reintroduce her passion for the sea to a new generation.  There is an underlying theme of saving the sea from environmental trauma and the sexual abuse my character faces.  You can read the first chapter here. 

Then, my daughter was born.  Her presence; the very essence of the female spirit radiated in her.  

She.  Girl.  Safe. Loved.

And I’ve learned so much about myself and mothering from having a daughter.  

Here is Eden with my mom.

Eden is my perfect mirror.  If I love myself, she’ll learn to love herself.  If I’m strong, she’ll learn to be strong.  If I celebrate my female spirit, she’ll do the same.  How I've grown seeing the world through the eyes of my wonderful innocent daughter. 

Next, I wrote The Memory Catcher with my mom author Sarah Hinze.  

The book is her memoir; her journey of her own miscarriage, to studying prebirth experiences and finally to becoming a voice for the unborn.  

Her books share how unborn spirits can warn, protect and enlighten us.  Then, unexpectedly her research presented evidence that aborted babies may die here on earth, but their souls live on.  These real-life accounts in a book she wrote called The Castaways provided healing and hope for so many.  

Coming soon, the 15-year anniversary edition of The Castaways (more on that later).

I learned God can lead us when we write, especially when we write to honor Him.  The experience made me crave inspiring memoirs and I broke out of  my normal reading genre - fiction.  I’ve always known difficult things that happen to us can lead to good things, but I learned it in a literary sense.  There is a beautiful way to share such stories.

I can’t forget my new found love of Christian music.  I spend a lot of time painting and restoring furniture, working in the kitchen and so forth.  I stopped listening to political radio and top 40 and turned the dial over to the inspiring messages and gorgeous tunes of these amazing musicians.  So many songs touched my heart, but the one that stands out is Overcomer by Mandisa.  Her story is amazing.

I was being spiritually nourished throughout the day.  My relationship with Jesus Christ grew in leaps and bounds.  

Then, project:USED (www.projectused.com).  

Dresses, the very core of woman; some might say its sexist, but with the inspiration of DRESSEMBER and a new look at what it means for a woman to wear a dress, I found dresses liberating.  The dress became a symbol of what it means to be a strong woman.  Don’t hide behind pants, celebrate the female spirit. 

After all that, what now?  I’ve come a long way as a mother, wife, an entrepreneur, a writer and a girl.  I’ve blogged for almost six years.  My dear readers, what courage and healing you’ve provided me!  It’s been so much fun.  Thank you for following me on this journey and I look forward to continuing the exploration of My Dear Trash.  In addition to my blog, I’ve written and completed almost five novels all about strong young adult girls that overcome in their own way.  An exciting twist, my last two novels are historical fiction.  God willing, I think I know where my next step leads.  I’m currently working with a literary agency and I think my time may have finally come to publish my stories.  Yes, it’s a big leap, but oh my! Am I ever ready to hold own of my own books.  You’ll find me in a puddle of tears jumping for joy. 

All these experiences (and too many to count) have lead me to light.  I have so many stories and ideas; dreams and goals – all bringing another step closer to the joy of being a strong, confident girl!  

I love having so many artistic outlets in my life. If it wasn’t for the therapeutic outlet of furniture restoration, I wouldn’t have so much time to collect my thoughts and explore plots. If it wasn’t for writing, I’d probably explode in a big pile of ideas!  So, wish me luck and courage and I take this leap of faith into the world of publishing.  I’m so excited I can hardly stand it!

You can check out my website at lauralofgreen.com.

Follow me on facebook for My Dear Trash here and for project:USED here.

I'm also on pinterest here.

My Love for Writing and Raise The Standard Event

Two weeks ago I had the opportunity to speak at the Kimber Academy here in Mesa.  

The private school, in its second year, focuses on God, family and country.  Every week the Kimber Academy has a spirit day, where an inspiring guest comes in to share a message. 

I started by showing the kids this mirror I had just painted and shared how I found it at the thrift store.  

I told them my passion for finding trash and making it beautiful again; how it’s more then just a physical task, it’s spiritual too.  Sometimes we don’ feel like we have much worth, but we are God’s children and He is the Creator who makes us beautiful. 

I spoke on “Seek that which is Divine” and shared the story of how my mom author Sarah Hinze and I wrote The Memory Catcher. 

I highlighted how the only way we were able to write The Memory Catcher is because my mom kept journals throughout her life.  We discussed why God would want us to write at all.

The grass withereth, the flower fadeth; but the word of our God shall stand for ever. Isaiah 40:8.  Sometimes I wonder where I’d be if the prophets of old hadn’t taken time to write down what God inspired them to think and feel. 

When experiences happen, like a small miracle or a heart-warming event or a tragedy or something deeply sorrowful, I think writing it down not only helps us to recognize God’s hand in our lives, but it allows us to remember.  Sometimes we have a lesson to learn while other times we rejoice in our blessings.  The very act of writing leaves an imprint in our mind.  It’s therapeutic and allows us to linger in our thoughts, linking more ideas to what we are impressed with.  We can then reflect and share personal witness with others who are struggling or need to feel God’s love in their own lives.  We can heal and reflect.  Writing can be a holy task.

While at the Kimber Academy, I had the opportunity to meet the director Nancy Jones Genys.  She shared with me her vision of the Kimber Academy and the adjoining Clearview Cultural Center.  An event she has coordinated is Raise the Standard.

In celebration of God, family and country, Nancy believes our fundamental beliefs in the constitution of the United States of American will move mountains. Her hope is to improve our educational system and raise children with outstanding moral character.  When Glenn Beck heard about the event, he signed on as well as many other outstanding figures.  See the full list of speakers by clicking here.

I was so inspired by Nancy and most importantly, asked if she ever sleeps.  Seriously, she is a force of nature and passionate about her mission.  I've coordinated events for Earth Day at Arizona State University and Scottsdale Center for the Arts.  I know how difficult it is to start with an idea and watch it grow until it's a full blown event with celebrities, media and a million dollar insurance policy.  It's weeks of no sleep and inspiration when you least expect it.  I'd be standing in line at the grocery store and have an idea for marketing or a press release title.  Nancy's amazing work ethic has inspired me to continue on my path of passion.

Maybe a good way to find that purpose is to sit down with a pen and paper and get writing. That's usually how it starts.  You can order tickets to Raise the Standard event scheduled October 11 and 12, 2013 , by clicking here.

Tiffany Blue

As a writer, color fascinates me because color can be interpreted through words; descriptive, artistic, beautiful words. Color can be a mood or an emotion.  Color is an expression for the artist in all of us.

Take blue, for example.

There are so many shades of blue, especially when it comes to paint.

Some blues are elegant

while others are retro.

Some blues are moody

while others are beachy.

Some are simple

while others are rich.

Like a Tiffany blue.  

So happy to be in the Mesa Tribune newspaper promoting my book The Memory Catcher; 

an inspiring true story about my mom author and researcher Sarah Hinze.  

We even had a photo shoot.  Isn't my mom beautiful!

Click here to read the article in the Mesa Tribune written by the talented Cecily Markland.

My mom has been featured before in the Mesa Tribune.  To read more about her work, click here.  You can watch The Memory Catcher video by clicking here.

Linking up to:

Creative re-do inspired by Restoration Hardware

Some of us are feeling more creative then others.

But wait! 

This is pretty creative for a few laughs!

These little guys are definitely in the creative zone.

My latest creative expression?

This vintage piece needed serious readjustment 

and then I saw this Restoration Hardware gray.

And here’s how she turned out.

I will definitely be experimenting more with gray.

My book The Memory Catcher is now available at Deseret Book, Amazon and at Springcreek books; great for holiday gift-giving.  

For those who wonder where our children are before they’re born, this is a book to read.  It is an inspiring true story about uncovering the truths God wants you to know and it was a pleasure to write it with my mom, author and researcher Sarah Hinze.

Click here to see the book trailer in big screen.
Linking up to:

Remember to follow My Dear Trash on facebook by clicking here.

Throwing Sticks at Sleep

One of the most interesting ordeals of being a writer is sleep, or lack of it.

I try to step away from my mind so I can sleep, but it seems to constantly be there.  I am forever creating plots full of conflict, personal struggle and intrigue; most especially when I lay in a dark quiet room listening to the sound of the counselor’s steady breathing.

Not being able to sleep started out as an annoying habit, but has turned almost debilitating. 

I’ve never been one to take drugs, but I’m seriously considering it.

Anyway, since I’m already here I thought I’d check in and say hello.

Hello, my friends.

I received a box of 100 books today, titled The Memory Catcher, a revealing true story of how author and researcher Sarah Hinze gathered accounts of spiritual visitations of unborn spirits and became a champion of their cause in a society that rejects them.  This is my mother’s life story and it was such a privilege to write it with her. 

I am beyond thrilled to hold a book I’ve worked so hard on and believe in so much.  I can’t wait to read it, again.  I will be taking it to the gym and reading it as I bounce up and down on the elliptical machine. Order your own copy by clicking here.

But now with The Memory Catcher published, I am working again on my other passion; Young Adult Fiction.  The best writing advice I received was at an ANWA (American Night Writers Association) Conference.  I apologize, I don’t remember what author spoke such fine wisdom, but the advice suggested good fiction writing was like putting a dog in a tree and throwing sticks at it.  What does that possible mean and should someone call the Animal Abuse Hotline?   No, because it’s just a visual as to what needs to be happening in a writer’s storyline.  If the conflict starts to lift, throw another stick at it.  Keep up the turmoil, the chaos and dysfunction; a.k.a think The Hunger Games. Now that’s throwing sticks at the dog!

  

I’ve started a new YA novel that has taken over my life.  My Dear Lucy is the working title.  The story is of a girl named Lucy who lives in a time when reading is illegal.  Lucy is a reader, hiding her skill and on the run from a variety of different rotten people.  Let’s just say, she’s having plenty of sticks thrown at her.  I can be so mean, but make note I love Lucy.  So far gypsies are trying to kill her because they think she’s a witch, a mysterious book she’s been hiding her entire life is about to be discovered by the wrong people and she’s falling in love with the man who’s kidnapped her.  Eventually, with a few twists and turns in the plot, she’ll not only find out how her gift can bless her nation, but she’ll play a vital role in helping Martin Luther start the protestant revolution.

My gift for my 40^th birthday, the gift I wanted to give myself was 40 pages of my new manuscript.  Writing a book is like trying to lose weight; it’s a numbers game.  Sometimes the numbers speak louder then they need too, because what they represent is some sort of progress.  Well, like my never-ending weight loss goals, I did not reach my goal, but am happy to report today I was able to write to page 40. 

 

My Dear Lucy is going incredibly well and I’m pushing myself to finish it in the next few weeks.  Something I learned from writing The Memory Catcher is books are started and eventually, books are finished.  I have a publisher I love working with, which is another bonus I never had before. 

I feel I have a grasp of how overwhelming this whole process can be, minus the sleep problem of course.  So, my dear friends, I wish you a good night, or a good morning where ever you are.  I will open my manuscript and work until my eyelids start to droop and sleep finally kicks in.  

Meeting one of my hero’s; song writer and musician Kenneth Cope

The pre-teen years weren’t easy for me (we’re they easy for anybody?).  My family moved from Utah to Virginia and Jr. High was a challenge.  I grew like a weed and was awkward in my new body.   I came from a large family of nine children and was teased at school for being Mormon.  Some days I just wanted to stay home with my little brothers and sisters and play dress-up. 

When I was 14, my family moved from Virginia to Mesa, Arizona.  I didn’t know anyone and sometimes felt alone.  I started playing tennis and ran around the track every day.  I met a few friends and started feeling like I could fit in. 

I meet a friend named Daryl Smith, read more about Daryl here (Daryl is the editor of Seeing the Everyday) who introduced me to the music of Kenneth Cope.  Kenneth is a member of the Mormon Church and writes songs about Jesus.  I played his tapes around the house and was amazed at the message of his songs.  Finding Christ, reaching out to others, being kind and seeing heaven all around us were so inspiring.  I felt my testimony for the Savior grow.

Kenneth’s music played a significant role in how I felt about myself and where I was going with my life.  It was easier to keep difficult days in perspective and I would sing along while cleaning my room or doing homework.  Soon, my brother’s and sister’s were requesting I play his music whenever I was home.

I also played the piano and spent hours each day learning Kenneth’s songs.  I saved up babysitting money and purchased the print music to His Hands and Never a Better Hero and others.  My mom would stand by my side, encouraging me and singing along.  This is how I spent a lot of my time in the evening.

I eventually started writing my own piano music.  A neighbor of mine named Crystal wrote poetry.  We started collaborating and wrote beautiful compositions together.  When I was 16, I auditioned to be the pianist for a musical group called Sound Celebration.  The group performed not just in Mesa, but around the country.  Kenneth Cope’s music was used in most of our performances, as our goal was to draw people closer to Jesus.

When I was 23, I turned in my mission papers and was called to serve in the Temple Square Mission.  I played a lot of Kenneth Cope’s music as I prepared to serve the Lord.  His music kept me focused and the spirit stayed close to my heart. 

So . . . you can imagine my joy and utter happiness when almost a year into my mission, Kenneth Cope came to speak to the over 200 sister missionaries on Temple Square.  

He spoke for about an hour on how he developed his testimony and what he has learned about Christ from reading the scriptures.  He than asked if we would like to hear him sing a few songs.  I was the mission pianist, so my mission president asked if I would accompany Kenneth while he sang.  Of course I had been playing Kenneth’s music for years, but never did I think I would be playing while he sang.  I was nervous, but more excited.  Kenneth was kind and humble and I learned so much about Christ because of his visit to my mission.

Several years after I married the counselor, we decided to go to Utah and visit Temple Square.  At the time we had three little boys and stayed in Park City.  The day we decided to visit Temple Square, we drove through the canyons down the mountain to Salt Lake City.  My heart was full of joy, ready to share my mission for the first time with my husband and small children.  We drove past This is the Place, a landmark honoring where the first pioneers arrived with Brigham Young.  The story is when they arrived in the Utah Valley, Brigham Young said “This is the place.”  I’d always wanted to see the monument, so we took a slight detour and toured the grounds.  While walking, I heard Kenneth Cope singing.  At first I thought I was dreaming, and then maybe it was his CD being played over the loud speaker, but after a few minutes I realized it was live.  He was really him singing.  I told the counselor I had to find him.  I was like a bloodhound, walking from one end of the grounds to the next and finally found Kenneth, along with his band, rehearsing in a large barn.  I stood in the doorway and listened as he finished a song.  My eyes were full of tears and I explained to my son Chandler why I was crying. 

“That man up there taught me about Jesus,” I said.  I cautionsly approached Kenneth (I didn’t want to interrupt, but I had to!) and a bit emotional, I re-introduced myself to him.  He was so gracious and after visiting a few minutes, he invited me to stay and listen while he and his band finished rehearsing.  It was the highlight of my trip back to my mission.

You can see how this man and his gift for writing music affected me.  I can’t think of any other musician who has ever meant more.  Kenneth Cope is one of my hero’s.

Fast forward to this summer, where I have spent over four months helping my mom, author Sarah Hinze write her biography in a book we’ve titled The Memory Catcher.  More on this to come!  Her publisher Spring Creek Book Company will be publishing The Memory Catcher in October 2012. 

Throughout her life, my mom desired to know God and what He wanted her to do with her life when after a miscarriage, she had a “pre-birth experience” (PBE). The child she lost came to her as an angel, reassuring everything would be alright.  After the encounter, my mom wondered if other mothers had seen their unborn children in dreams or visions before their children were born.  She distributed flyers throughout her town and within a few days, a woman who had seen her own unborn child shared her story with my mom. 

Since then my mom has interviewed individuals from around the world and chronicled many of these types of communication from children before they are born.

Years later, she had published several books.  Her work has provided significant evidence that unborn children can warn, protect and enlighten us from the spirit realm. Most often these children appear to announce it is their time to be born. This communication can occur between the child and a parent, sibling, aunt, uncle, or grandparent, etc., as they come to warn, protect and enlighten.

Her first book Coming from the Light was published nearly 20 years ago.  Later, she published Life before Life (Pocket Books) with Simon & Schuster. 

My mom's latest book, We lived in Heaven, was given to Kenneth Cope by a mutual friend.  Well, Kenneth read the book and contacted my mom, hoping some day they could meet.  Since my mom and I were already collaborating on her biography and had planned a trip up to Utah, we meet Kenneth Cope together.  Here we our with his sweet family.

It was a dream come true. I finally had time to tell Kenneth what his music meant to me.  Kenneth is one of my hero’s and I am now sharing his music with my children.  While we were together, he played a few songs on his guitar, one of them being Broken.  

I hope you will take the time to listen to a few of his songs I have linked up.

Thank you, Kenneth for sharing your talent with the world.  It has made all the difference in mine.