KAREY SHANE

8 Steps on How to Get Your Book into Costco

I want to thank Jodi Jill for her article on how to get your book into Costco. I made myself known to our local Costco manager months ago. In fact, we had a couple sit down face-to-face visits and he was happy to share statistics with me on how well local authors are doing. Now we wave at each other in the aisles! Now I just have to follow the rest of these steps fromJody. Stay tuned to see how I do by the time April rolls around! Let me know if you have other suggestions.

Here are Jill's Instructions:

Step 1

Your first step is to head down to the local Costco. What you need to decide is whether your book or guide actually belongs at a Costco. You are looking for similar products in price point and area, but not so much in content.

The Principle of the Chinese Bamboo Tree

Have you heard about the Chinese Bamboo Tree? It grows differently than other species of bamboo. Those who plant them nurture the bulb in the soil every day for four years, and nothing happens. Nothing. Then one day it takes off. Within one week it grows up to 90 feet tall. It almost sounds unbelievable.

Yet, all that time the bamboo roots have been developing into a massive system to support the incredibly quick growth of the plant once it's matured. It seems to me that the life process of this miraculous plant works on a true principle.

Why is Texting So Lethal?

When I heard about the Oprah's No Phone Zone pledge I didn't know how much it would effect the way I drive by simply choosing not to use my phone in the car. I just got back from running an errand, and I couldn't believe how much more attentive I was. What shocked me the most was that I was more present. I saw--really saw--real, living people: couples crossing the street, break lights in front of me, traffic lights changing. Wow. I wasn't thinking about all the things I had to do, or who I needed to call. I was shocked to realize just how dangerous I had become as a driver by using my cell phone.

The Gift of Pain

Fibromyalgia has given me one gift. It's something that so many of us rarely experience because life is so hectic. It's something that is so simple that it's easy to pass by. It's something that seems so hard, but nothing could be easier.

Serenity Please

I've been listening to Debbie Ford's 21 Day Cleanse on Oprah.com, and although right now I'm having a hard time doing things that require a lot of mental concentration, like write a letter, or write out statements about forgiveness, it's wonderful to discover that this is just one more drop to quench my thirst for peace, for meaning, and for love. It is, in a word, joy rising. Even with my physical limitations, how wonderful to discover that nothing can stop my spirit.

One thing I've come to realize is that I want serenity in my life. Just that: a little serenity, please. I want to be able to respond to life with serenity in the same way tend my garden--with love. In my mind I see those images of a Buddha who's laughing, unbothered by the challenges of life, because he sees beyond the trivial.

Spiritual Rescue

This mom has spent more time on her knees over the last few weeks than she has in a long, long time. Through a lot of prayer and pondering it has become very clear to me that I have a singular purpose on earth, aside from my cherished and divine role as a mother and wife. It sounds boring, perhaps, or maybe it sounds bizarre, but my greatest desire is for That Something Else: to fill the thirst and hunger I have those things which fill my spirit and give my life meaning, and purpose, that allow me to give and receive love, and that which allows me to know inner peace.

Fibromyalgia Hurts

You've just been bitten by 1,000 mosquitoes, only they don't fly away. They stay there for hours, days and sting doesn't go away. That's what it's like for the approximately 12 million folks who deal with Fibromyalgia. Another day you've hit your funny bone, and the pain spreads all over your body from your neck to your knees and the weird, agitating feeling stays for hours.

Ever since Christmas my symptoms have been coming back in full force. Last Fall life was no less than fantastic, because I'd been going to physical therapy and felt the best I remember in 25 years at least. Wow. Eventually when we have the funds I'll start back up with it, but in the meantime, wimpola-ville!

So, this is a post to explain that if I'm not blogging much in the next while, it's because frankly, all I have the energy to do is just lay still, watch TV, and get my mind off the pain. Everything will be OK, because it always is. My husband took that picture of me last summer on one of my fibro days.  Dressed up, but definitely not going anywhere! How can it be so hard to be tired and in pain?

Haiti and You

I went to a meeting on the Haitian rescue efforts last night at UVU, put on by local Haitians. I felt helpless to know what to do, and frankly, so did they. Today on Oprah she announced that even donating $10 to the Red Cross can help. I've thought a lot about the suffering that we all go through in life, some much more than others, and I've come to one simple conclusion (still with so many questions):

We either allow suffering to refine and define us,

or confine and undermine us.

It’s our choice.

The words came to me out of the blue yesterday and I keep thinking about what they mean for me.  Plus, it works for me because it rhymes. There are so many in pain. There are so many in this world who are enslaved, cold, hungry, ignored, or in the case of the earthquake in Haiti,  crushed spiritually or physically.

But I know this, at all times our challenges give us the opportunity to fall to our knees, to define ourselves by our hope and faith in Father's wisdom and mercy. They also give us the opportunity to turn inward, to let our hearts harden in bitterness, resentment, and the inability to hope that, even for an instant, there is a grander design. As always, it inevitably comes back to love. Perhaps in this case it is the love that Father has for us at all times and in all places, no matter what is going on in our lives. I believe he wants us to be refined and defined by our faith, our hope, and the charity we have for those around us--and for ourselves.

How a Story Works

Robert Jackson Bennett just posted the most near-perfect description of what story means to me on OrbitBooks. I've posted the entire thing below for my own reference on those days where I wonder myself why I write. And I would add that the way I see it, stories already exist. They just need to be written down by a party willing to put down the pieces of the puzzle as they float down, arrange them, or pause at times while more pieces arrange themselves. Stories, perhaps, come from God to help us see ourselves more clearly. And now, on to Robert Jackson Bennett's take on it all:

On Your Mark, Get Set, Bloggiesta!

OK, I'm officially beginning the Bloggiesta challenge Right Now. I just found out about it on Natasha Maw's Book Blog and what better way to spend a few cold winter days when I have a million other things on my list to do. Arghh! But it's calling me, so...out of Natasha's helpful list, this is what I'm going to work on: (I'll highlight each one as I check it off...)

• Write backup posts for a rainy day
• Work on series posts
• Put out invitations for author guest posts
• Clean up your tags, archives, books reviewed list, etc.
• Create a text file (or Google Doc) of cheat sheets (html codes, post url’s, etc)
• Improve your blog template, clean up sidebars, add a favicon, install those plugins that you’ve been meaning to do.
• Add or edit your about me page, review policy, disclosure policy, privacy policy, create landing pages (for example – an about me for Twitter readers page) or any other pages you might have.
• Make sure all of your social network profiles are up to date.  Brand yourself through those profiles with color scheme, images, etc
• Go get a gravatar
• Find a blogging buddy

People Buying Boxloads. Wow.

Wow. I just got a call and someone wants to come buy another box load of Secret Speakers pre-pub copies for her book club who wants to discuss it already. It's sort of surreal to realize people will not only be reading what was so much in my head for so long, but talking about it! Below you can see how I wrapped the copies for my kids for Christmas . . .

Together Time at Christmas

Dear reader, This year was the first time in four years that my three children were here for Christmas. It was the best Christmas I remember with them, ever. Even though life isn't perfect, it is full of perfect moments.  I feel so grateful. Patrick's children were out of town or with their mom, so we missed them.

We had a blast snowshoeing, bowling, lazing around the house, playing board games, visiting family. It was all good. We served dinner for the homeless on Christmas Eve, which put our own dinner terribly late, and it was worth it 100%. These pictures aren't in any particular order . . .

After one of many snowshoe races on Christmas Day. I was amazed what I can do with two Aleve and a Pepsi in my system!

  Wyatt is definitely in the lead. Woof, woof!
The night before Dwight heads back to Vermont. Then he's off to Maryland to meet his sweet girlfriends family. Well, I'll be!  :)

At the bowling alley. Gimme some knuckle buddy! Good one!

Dancing a little jig after I knocked a lot of the pins down. Quite proud of myself since I stink at bowling.

After bowling.

Sadie and her cousin Natalie serving drinks for the homeless on Christmas Eve.

  Quinn on his way to take the salad and rolls to someone who just arrived for a warm Christmas dinner.

A simple Christmas Eve dinner that took me forever to make! Sadie doesn't like meat, so I make a lot of recipes out of this great vegetarian cookbook, Heaven's Banquet. We had Mama-made Gingered carrot soup, Shredded Brussel Sprouts with Mama-made Crême Fraiche (which supposedly non-brussel sprout lovers like, which turned out to be true), roast chicken, and Gougères, instead of mashed potatoes.

The mama-made Gougères (cheesy cream puffs) are in the kids initials. Patrick and I ate the regular ones.

The top of their Christmas stockings.

Patrick asked me to read the Christmas story out of Luke before we all went to bed. Our youngest had just flown in from Vermont the night before Christmas Eve, so he was half asleep, too tired to eat the mama-made Hazlenut Torte, complete with Ganache and raspberry filling. Poor guy. Sadie's crocheting a hat for for grandmother. We ate on what I call our Cloven Grave plates, because they remind me so much of Cloven Grave in Secret Speakers.

Our youngest is waiting to play the winner. I'm sure Sadie won me.

Usually I ask Heavenly Father to help each day feel like a week, but I forgot this time, and it sure went fast.  (and during the summer the if-you-don't-mind-very-much prayer extends to asking that each week feel like a month, and each month like a year.) But I'm grateful for every fleeting, good moment. Each one made it feel like just one more invisible wound had healed.

We had lots of good Mama-made food. This one was an easy meal: Smoked salmon with capers, tiny pickles and roasted peppers with crusty french bread. The brown bread you see tasted more like cardboard. When did I ever think it tasted good?

Homemade Christmas

This year this mother did a homemade Christmas. It was all about love, since we didn't have a lot of money. Independently publishing Secret Speakers has put us in debt for the first time in our marriage. So I made seamless, felted mittens for the children and Patrick, and gave them each a copy of the book. First, a picture of their books all wrapped up for Christmas morning:

Copies of Secret Speakers for the kids and Patrick. The next few pictures are of them opening their presents, wahoo! A long time in coming . . .

Sadie and her mama-made mittens.

Our 15 year-old son and his mama-made mittens

Dwight's mama-made mittens were a disaster but Patrick wanted them since they were so uber thick. I made Dwight another pair. He liked them a lot better:

Someone told me the kids would think getting the book was incredibly lame, but I wrote it for them in large part. It was a gift from my heart that was several years in the making. One day I believe it will mean something to them.