Author: Betsy

We’ve been waiting four years to share this!  The Crick Code is finally finished, and here’s the proof!  Now live on Amazon!  Paperback and Kindle eBook available.

 

One more push, aaaaand…Poof!  We’re done.

But there’s not a cute bundle to hug and love on with this kind of birth.
Just a screen saying in 24-72 hours your book will be live.

Kind of anticlimactic until the anxiety sets in.
Is it really ready?
Is it proofed enough?
What about formatting?
What about my life being out there for people to read about?

But that’s when invaluable friendship showed up and brought us back to reality.  We celebrated with some home-made hummus, cheese, crackers and a choice tasty drink.  Then we took some more pictures and made fish tacos.

Nothing too fancy.  But something money can’t buy!

It’s a scary feeling, and most of the time it’s just imagined… But sometimes, it’s real. Everyone has an opinion and a unique perspective which may or may not line up with ours.  What do we do with that?

Actually, there’s only two things we can do.  We can let it bother us,

or not.

I admit, the first half of my life, and sometimes still, I let it bother me.  After all, I like to be liked.  I like to like. If you could call me anything, you could call me a liker.

We haven’t encountered any haters, yet.  Our friends who know us, who really know us, have been overwhelmingly sweet and curious about The Crick Code.  We are not concerned with them.

Not everyone knows us though, and people, even family members, can be mean. Motives and facts may be questioned.  Opinions may be shared before even reading the book. What do we do with that?

I have to admit, we’ve a little fearful about our goal to publish.  It touches on all kinds of tender ideas:  cult religion, family, oppression of women, rebellion, fear, freedom and love.

And then there’s the writing part:  Did I edit enough?  Did I tell too much, and not show enough?  Did I explain enough?  

It’s a strange thing, creating something and putting it out to the world to be judged.  I suppose everyone who has ever published has met with these fears to some degree or another.  It’s just our first time.

We’ve both had to face many of our own internal conflicts along this journey, but at the end of the day, it’s all about growing up and facing those fears head on.  Meg Cabot said it best:

“Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the judgement that something is more important than fear; The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all.” 

 

What the heck? We worked on the book all day and plan on working well into the night, so we went outside and did some YoChi.  Yes, some people stopped and watched, and B. got eaten by mosquitoes, but we persevered.   

Before getting too hunkered down in words and technology, I had to take a moment to share…We were greeted by this gentleman tonight as we checked in at our hotel.  When he asked about our stay, I told him we were here write a book.  Curious, he asked us about the topic and we shared a little about Colorado City and Warren Jeffs.  We took a selfie with him and then I looked at his name tag. 

His name was Warren.  What a coincidence!

 My earliest memory of wanting to publish/illustrate comes from when I was in first grade.  My parents placed a set of beautiful, brand-new encyclopedias within my reach.  Besides the cool pictures, I noticed in the front of each of those regal books was an untouched, blank piece of paper, begging to be covered.  I proceeded to put my mark in the very, very expensive books…needless to say, that didn’t go over well.

Another memory is from fourth or fifth grade. Our class performed a musical written by Mr. Hyde, our music teacher. It was titled, “George Washington, The Father of Our Country.” There was a contest to design the program cover and I won.  That was huge for me.  It was my first real published piece of art.  I held onto it for a long time.  It was proof that I had what it took to make my dreams come true.  Of course when I looked at it in later years, I noticed that old George didn’t have a top lip, but hey, the judges saw something.

B. and I are going away for a focused work time this weekend.  We are leaving behind all of our responsibilities to dive into the book once again. It’s a lot of work, but we are ready. Rest assured, we will not be defacing any encyclopedias…and hopefully, with our amazing editors, we will avoid any blaring mistakes like a lip-less George.

Wish us luck!  And come back to see our progress.

SALT LAKE CITY (AP) — A memorial service has been planned later this month for the one-year anniversary of fatal flash floods that ravaged a polygamous community on the Utah-Arizona border, killing at least a dozen people. Musser, a member of a community group planning the event, said people will talk about their experiences during the flooding then walk to a nearby bridge for a candlelight vigil, the Spectrum newspaper in St. George reported.  Three women and 13 children were returning from a park when they stopped at a flooded crossing on a gravel road north of the towns to watch the gushing waters. ..

A year ago B. and I watched as this tragic event unfolded.  B. even received text videos from people living at the Crick, showing her the severity of the flood.  Our hearts were pierced when we learned of a van carrying 13 children and 3 women had been swept away by the roaring waters.  Later we learned that only 3 of those passengers had survived.

*The photo shown above was taken by Rick Bowmer. It gracefully captures the beauty of the Crick that is so divided by the pursuit to be “worthy” and the denial of the truth.  

Source: Polygamous town plans memorial for 2015 flash flood victims – Times Union

It is so hard to believe at one time this little gadget was on the cutting edge of technology.  Before cell phones, pagers received numbers notifying the holder to call the sender. My husband had one in 2001, but I didn’t see the need to have one myself. B., however, had one that she hid under her arm on her bra strap.  Her secret boyfriend had given it to her so they could communicate through code. Certain numbers were assigned to names and places.  In this way, if the pager were to be confiscated, her mothers and father would not know who she was conversing with.  By giving her the pager, this young man had taken a chance of being kicked out of the community, and declared an apostate.