tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-212428212011-07-07T13:06:32.380-07:00Thoughts on Writing and Life from Author Annette SmithAnnette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.comBlogger561100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-91142729951889428382007-06-24T16:26:00.000-07:002007-06-24T17:10:44.122-07:00

One of my hospice patients, C.,a 44-year-old, never-married cancer patient told me how difficult it was to be the recipient of so much assistance and care. His assigned nursing assistant today was a lovely young woman who happens to be visibly pregnant."She shouldn't be waiting on me. I should be the one doing for her." C. adjusted the orange stocking cap he wears over his chemo-bald head. "All

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-3666814853033406792007-06-22T18:39:00.000-07:002007-06-22T19:05:23.818-07:00

Yesterday I was blessed to care for a elderly woman whose daughter was keeping a bedside vigil. "My sister would be here too" she told me, "but she's with her daughter on a Make-A-Wish trip.""Oh my. Is her little girl ill?"Okay. That was a dumb question. But the woman was gracious. She told me that her sister worked at a facility for severely handicapped children. It was at work where she fell in

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-16782330460060876892007-06-15T17:49:00.002-07:002007-06-16T07:44:39.317-07:00

Randy and I married young. We were barely into our twenties when we tied the knot. Our son was born 20 months into our union, our daughter four years after that. It's all good. Yet when I think of our early years together, I see the two of us mostly careening from one impulsive, reactive decision to the next. We bought houses. Sold houses. Took jobs. Quit jobs. Moved here. Moved there. Bought

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-44211783027486007122007-05-07T09:30:00.000-07:002007-05-07T10:10:53.161-07:00

"I find myself fundamentally allied with a vegetarian position in every way except one: I eat meat."Barbara KingsolverThis quote made me laugh and prompted me to think about areas of my own life where my beliefs don't jive with my behavior. Here's my short list:I'd like to complete a marathon, but I don't run.Reading classical literature is essential for anyone serious about writing, but I find

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-85525033962692284052007-04-29T21:29:00.000-07:002007-04-29T22:13:28.362-07:00

Tony Campolo is a man I admire. I share many of his views. Tony once said that the place to find Jesus is in loving service to poor and oppressed people.Tony's wife Peggy, tells the following story that bears witness to this truth. Under pressure from her family and those at her church, Peggy pretended to become a Christian at age nine. Not only that, she kept up the charade for 38 years. Here,

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-51138767938273261462007-04-25T09:51:00.000-07:002007-04-29T22:32:28.331-07:00

Spoiler alert: If you plan to read A Bigger Life, skip this post.Content alert: If you're uncomfortable with a PG-rated topic you might want to skip this post.In my latest book, Joel, the 27-yr-old main character, cheats on his pregnant wife. Joel's a good man. He didn't intend for it to happen. Yet, even before his wife finds out what he's done, the fall-out from Joel's actions permeates every

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-19948875976772321282007-04-11T15:56:00.000-07:002007-04-11T19:52:32.693-07:00

Last night, at my hospice job, the staff was treated to a delicious peach cobbler. Since I've been trying to exercise and eat a healthier diet lately, I drooled over the sweet dessert, but decided to pass it up."Oh, go on, Annette," my friend Sharon urged. "Have a little bit. It won't hurt you. Besides, if you eat peach cobbler you'll have pretty eyebrows."You think I'm making this up.I'm not.Is

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-23392950732730014682007-02-18T20:47:00.000-08:002007-02-19T06:37:53.342-08:00

At my church, communion is offered every week. So this morning, like every other Sunday I'm there, I placed a broken bit of bread on my tongue. Then I sipped grape juice from a tiny plastic cup. I love communion. I love the symbolism, the taste, the smell, and the feel. I love how communion blends together the physical and the spiritual parts of me.Jesus, when he served unleavened bread and wine

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-53059142092614265362007-02-18T19:38:00.000-08:002007-02-18T19:39:28.578-08:00

“Life is like an onion: you peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep” Carl Sandburg

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-88674722096229536012007-02-16T06:54:00.000-08:002007-02-18T19:24:34.464-08:00

I spent much of my twenties and thirties figuring out how to get more stuff. Shopping was one of my favorite forms of recreation back then. I loved snagging bargains on things like clothes and accessories, furniture, antiques, and decorative do-dads for the house. Then something happened. I hit my mid-forties. Acquiring more things suddenly lost much of its appeal. The desire for space and order

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-48783029111446844072007-02-15T08:30:00.000-08:002007-02-15T15:54:40.748-08:00

I wish you could meet my friend J. He's a cool guy, an excellent hospice nurse, and someone I love talking with about the deeper stuff.J. has recently gone through some tough times. We were chatting last night and J. told me that even though he's known God and gone to church off and on most all of his life, untill last October his faith had never done that much for him. What happened last fall is

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-36825791703698130762007-02-13T07:58:00.000-08:002007-02-13T08:40:02.685-08:00

Readers often ask where I come up with the ideas for my books. There's a story behind the birth of every one, and my latest release is no exception.Two years ago, my daughter received a great hairstyle from a new stylist. It was the desire for a new look that landed me, a few weeks later, in that same stylist's chair. Little did I know when I arrived for my appointment that I was about to meet a

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1168809519516270072007-01-14T12:51:00.000-08:002007-01-14T13:18:39.536-08:00

Men get a bad wrap these days. Too often, in the media, as well as in private conversations, men in general are depicted and described as violent, selfish, and unreliable. Married men don't fare any better than their single brothers. Watch any popular sitcom and you'll see husbands and fathers who haven't a clue. They're drags on their families. They are disrespect by their wives and children and

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1168708391149501002007-01-13T08:50:00.000-08:002007-01-13T09:13:11.180-08:00

I love to hear the stories of people's lives. It is one of the experiences I enjoy most in the world. There's nothing more intriguing to me than listening to a friend or a stranger tell me about the journey that brought them to their present place. People are so fascinating. Their motivations, their passions, their desires -- we are such diverse creatures.What is not so easy for me is sharing my

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1168452553343355192007-01-10T09:45:00.000-08:002007-01-10T10:09:13.386-08:00

My friend Debbie has a chapel in her back yard. Really. Her husband shepherds a small congregation that meets in a dedicated building behind their house. It's where Debbie goes to pray. She loves having a quiet, sacred place so close by. Lately, Debbie's been in prayer more than usual. About -- well -- you know -- stuff. She's about worn a trail in the grass from her back door to that little

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1168199314493059042007-01-07T11:44:00.000-08:002007-01-07T11:53:16.210-08:00

Friends With YouJohn DenverWhat a friend we have in timeGives us children, makes us wineTells us what to take or leave behindAnd the gifts of growing oldAre the stories to be toldOf the feelings more precious than goldFriends I will remember you, think of youPray for youAnd when another day is throughI'll still be friends with youBabies days are never longMother's laugh is baby's songGives us all

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1167869338297188212007-01-03T14:44:00.000-08:002007-02-18T19:28:46.579-08:00

Last spring, Randy and I spent a sweet afternoon on our front porch with Ken, one of our more out-of-the-box, too rarely seen friends. It was a rainy day, but the air was heavy and warm and the three of us we were well-sheltered from the drizzle. We talked and talked and talked some more. The conversation was so good I left my rocker only long enough to keep our coffee mugs filled with strong,

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1166112112674212732006-12-14T07:46:00.000-08:002006-12-14T08:01:52.716-08:00

People ask for all kinds of things for Christmas. Diamonds, furniture, new clothes. This year, I've asked for a goat. My husband Randy wants a cow. In case you're wondering, no, we've not gone out and bought the farm. The animals we plan to purchase for each other, through Heifer International, will go to families living in poverty-stricken areas of the world.I love what this organization does.

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1165935647743592132006-12-12T06:36:00.000-08:002006-12-12T07:00:47.803-08:00

My dad is an intelligent, thoughtful, well-read man. He's also passionately opinionated, which is what makes verbal sparring with him so much fun. Religion and social justice are two topics I love to discuss with him, politics is one I stay away from. If you ever meet my dad, please heed this piece of advice. Don't get him started up on George Bush. Trust me. You do not want to go there!The last

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1165904513045005072006-12-11T22:19:00.000-08:002006-12-11T22:21:53.053-08:00

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.Albert Schweitzer

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1165563050510172992006-12-07T22:21:00.000-08:002006-12-08T06:31:00.780-08:00

I got called to my supervisor's office today. At the hospice where I serve. I thought I'd hidden my distress, but someone who loves me ratted me out."I need to know," she said after she'd closed her office door. "I heard last night was rough. Are you okay? Because if you're not, I want to know. I want to take care of you. Whatever it takes. "Tears. I hate them, hate them, hate them. They betray

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1165265333057193852006-12-04T12:11:00.000-08:002006-12-04T12:48:54.416-08:00

Last night, with a sigh and a prayer, I hit the Send command, thus launching my latest novel through cyberspace and into the hands of my waiting editor. There's work yet to be done. Edits will come, rewrites I'm sure. But for now, I get to rest.Lord, I need it.I'm tired. In body and in soul. I've been weepy. My joints are creaky. This past couple of months I've spent too much time in the chair,

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1164430519629568062006-11-24T20:51:00.000-08:002006-11-24T20:55:19.640-08:00

Thanks for stopping by. I'll be taking the next ten days to focus on completing my work in progress. Check back for new posts around the first week of December. Until then!

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1163633249268318932006-11-15T15:25:00.000-08:002006-11-15T15:27:29.276-08:00

1. An unexpected night off from work2. A pot of Two Alarm Chili on the stove3. A fire in the fireplace4. A husband home from work early.Life is good!

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1163619446125742102006-11-15T11:13:00.000-08:002006-11-15T11:37:26.243-08:00

Last January, I applied for a part-time nursing job at an inpatient hospice located an hour from my home. I'd wrestled with the decision to go to work there, mostly because of the commute. But after thinking about it, praying about it, and nearly driving my patient husband nuts talking about it, I finally gave in and applied.Hospice was my calling. I'd knew that. I'd done it in the past. It is

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1163361359909363322006-11-12T11:44:00.000-08:002006-11-12T11:55:59.920-08:00

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, during the next few weeks I'll post a few random lists of what blessings I'm enjoying on a particular day.1. Weather brisk enough to spoon all night without getting hot.2. Amazing Grace3. The loaded baked sweet potatoes at Texas Roadhouse cafe4. Nora Jones Come Away With Me CD5. Red and yellow and gold leaves outside my window6. Wally, my sweet smelly mutt who hates

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1163232062348412472006-11-10T23:12:00.000-08:002006-11-11T00:01:02.380-08:00

This picture was taken last November by my friend, Michael. In the midst of a painful season of personal funk, I flew to Sacramento to visit Michael and his wife, Laura, two of my dearest friends.I cried a lot that week.Things were not okay.But Laura and Michael loved on me like I was the most entertaining houseguest they'd ever had. They fed my soul with the beauty of art and music and nature.

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1162706042392833172006-11-04T21:35:00.000-08:002006-11-04T21:54:02.400-08:00

Last night at my hospice job, I took care of a darling older gentleman. Because no family was with him and he seemed to crave company, I spent extra time in his room. Around nine o'clock, to help him have a good night's rest, I rubbed his feet with lotion, gave him a sleeping pill, and covered him up with a handmade quilt.After I pulled the quilt up around his shoulders and tucked him in snugly,

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1162430215366869112006-11-01T16:28:00.000-08:002006-11-01T17:16:55.466-08:00

I write in the sunroom of our house, an area that's actually a converted carport. It's a spacious, albeit drafty, room with three walls of side-by-side, uncovered, floor-to-ceiling windows. I love this space because of the natural light and the unobstructed view of my backyard and beyond.The past few days, this gorgeous golden tree is what I see when I look up from my computer. The picture does

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1162177122811309452006-10-29T18:21:00.000-08:002006-10-29T21:18:56.106-08:00

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me".Erma BombeckSheri and I've been friends since our now grown sons were little boys playing baseball together. We've seen each other through all kinds of life changes. New houses, new towns, new jobs. Sick husbands, sick parents, dogs that got

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1161729476750866792006-10-24T15:19:00.000-07:002006-10-24T15:43:44.106-07:00

A few weeks ago, I had the good fortune of hearing artist Sara Hickman perform at a local venue. I'd never experienced Sara before that evening so I had no idea what a treat was waiting for me.What can I say but that I've fallen in love with her original sound. Rock? Folk? Blues? I'm not sure what to call Sara's work, except lovely. I've nearly worn out her latest CD, Motherlode. Below I've

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1161561906879312472006-10-22T16:29:00.000-07:002006-10-22T17:05:06.926-07:00

Yesterday, my mom, my daughter, Rachel, and I spent the afternoon in Edom, a tiny nearby town that hosts an amazing annual art festival. What a fun day we had. The weather was gorgeous -- bright Texas sun, big blue sky, a crisp fall breeze.We strolled the festival grounds and feasted our eyes on art in every medium imaginable, including hand forged jewelry, oil and water color paintings,

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1161060755718147952006-10-16T21:39:00.000-07:002006-10-16T21:52:35.733-07:00

" Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read. "Groucho Marx

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1159456639206765932006-09-28T08:04:00.000-07:002006-09-28T08:17:19.246-07:00

Neither Randy or I are into science fiction or fantasy. So imagine our surprise when, on a whim last winter, we rented the first season of the TV series, Lost. Oh my goodness. One episode and we were hooked. It was like eating potato chips. We couldn't stop. Just one more, we'd say to each other, then we have GOT to go to bed. An hour and a half later, we'd drag ourselves to bed, then be unable

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1159217053561478372006-09-25T13:14:00.000-07:002006-09-25T13:44:13.640-07:00

A couple of months ago, my dad and I met in Dallas. My mom was having surgery and, not believing anyone should be left alone in a hospital, we were there to keep a three-day bedside watch on her. Soon as I arrived, I phoned my dad to find out my mom's room number. Helpfully, he met me in the hospital parking lot to help me bring in my things.He picked up my tote bag. "Baby girl," he staggered,"

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1158543189807235402006-09-17T17:56:00.000-07:002006-09-17T18:33:16.683-07:00

We had Whataburger for lunch today. Randy and I'd stopped there on our way home from church for two reasons. #1. Whataburger is quick and since I was on my way to a friend's afternoon booksigning, we needed quick. #2. Whataburger is Randy's favorite fast food joint in the world.My sly husband has so perfected the nonchalant, "how does Whataburger sound?" that more times than not, I find myself

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1158334661459404172006-09-15T08:12:00.000-07:002006-09-15T08:37:41.586-07:00

I learned to knit in my teens, enjoyed it, but then put my yarn and needles down until a few years ago. It was a visit with my Minnesota cousin, an accomplished knitter, that prompted me to try knitting again. I bought some yarn and a set of needles and began churning out scarves. About a million of them. I made so many scarves people started running when they saw me for fear they'd have to feign

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1158111228743303842006-09-12T17:44:00.000-07:002006-09-13T07:02:11.123-07:00

I am neither young, cool, nor hip.Have I ever been?Young?Yes.At one time I was.Cool and hip?Not so much.But, thanks to my friend, aka, The Stylist, for the past almost two years, forty-something-year-old uncool me has sported decidedly hip hair. Hair that shines. That moves when I walk. My husband likes my hair. My friends like my hair. I like my hair. In order to maintain this hair of mine, I

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1157871604018199642006-09-09T23:52:00.000-07:002006-09-10T00:00:04.030-07:00

Remember nine years old?Free.Fearless.Ready to fly.I'm not sure life gets any better than nine years old.This photo of my niece captures the spirit of that age beautifully.Elizabeth --Sarah --May nine be only the beginning!

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1155158288666895372006-08-09T14:02:00.000-07:002006-08-09T17:04:07.750-07:00

What do you think? I'm pleased as can be with the cover of my next release. To whet your appetite, here's a taste of what the book's about.Joel never meant to be a single dad, working at a hair salon in the small town of Eden Plain, Texas. But at twenty-seven, that's where he finds himself, sharing custody of his preschool son with an ex-wife he still loves and sharing Sunday night dinners with a

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1154622781082689392006-08-03T09:07:00.000-07:002006-08-03T09:33:01.166-07:00

When new friends discover I'm a writer, when they find out that I've sold a solid dozen manuscripts in the past nine years, yet still work at a regular job, they pointedly ask why. Why would a rich author work long hours? Why would she endure an hour plus commute to a job that's physically tiring, emotionally exhausting, and spiritually draining?Lots of reasons, I say.First, I've been a nurse for

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1154238959765858132006-07-29T22:33:00.000-07:002006-07-29T22:55:59.776-07:00

In my work as a hospice nurse, I am honored to care for all kinds of people. I serve the young and the old, the ugly and the pretty, the rich and the poor. I take care of folks who have no faith, some faith, and occasionally, unshakable faith.Such was the case tonight. My patient was a woman in her sixties who has taught adult Sunday school for many years. Her husband told me that on the first

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1153630179579596842006-07-22T21:43:00.000-07:002006-07-22T21:49:39.596-07:00

Here in Texas we're into the second week of hundred-plus degree heat. Want to know how hot that really is? This Dallas Morning News quote from 63-year-old Ardellar Hightower pretty much sums it up:"It was so hot in the bedroom the day before yesterday that the smoke detector just fell down from the ceiling."Now that, my friends, is hot!

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1153323623215635422006-07-19T08:29:00.000-07:002006-07-19T08:43:40.866-07:00

The Coming Home to Ruby Prairie series is about Charlotte Carter and Tanglewood, her foster home for troubled girls. About ten years ago, Randy and I served as foster parents. It was the most difficult, rewarding, faith-building thing we have ever done.Recently, I received a message from a foster parent. Her words touched me and I wanted to respond. However, there was no return email address

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1152833965681338562006-07-13T16:22:00.000-07:002006-07-13T16:39:25.693-07:00

It was the promptings of my agent, publishers, and readers of my short story books that pushed me to finally pen A Town Called Ruby Prairie, my first novel. I'll always be thankful to Moody Publishers for taking a chance on me, an inexperienced novelist. They blessed me with a three book contract. During the couple of years I spent writing the series, Moody editors were encouraging and helpful.

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1152319292806652342006-07-07T12:35:00.000-07:002006-07-07T17:44:29.193-07:00

My taste in books is highly eclectic. I'll read just about anything, including the back of the cereal box and the paper wrapper my bath soap comes in. I've usually got a couple of books going at once.These are a few I've enjoyed this summer:Riding the Bus with My Sister, by Rachel SimonWatching the Tree Limbs, by Mary E. DuMuthThe Soul Tells a Story, by Vanita Hampton WrightThe Dance, and The

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1148320592514841462006-05-22T10:10:00.000-07:002006-05-22T10:56:36.323-07:00

Yes! We did it. Got our daughter Rachel married off. While no wedding pics are available as of yet, here's one of Rachel and James taken at Thanksgiving.The wedding was beautiful. For those of you unable to attend yet craving details, I offer the following. The high ceiling, lovely old church was lit with vanilla scented candles, decorated with an assortment of deep purple flowers and greenery.

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1146433776158785862006-04-30T14:23:00.000-07:002006-05-02T08:37:32.556-07:00

The talk at our house these days is mostly about weddings and marriage. Specifically, the upcoming May wedding and marriage of our only daughter, Rachel to her fiance, James. Together, Rachel and I bought her dress, ordered the flowers, and booked the reception site. Best I can tell, we're ready.Yesterday, a bridal shower was given in Rachel's honor. Attending the shower gave me the chance to

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1144289176275882622006-04-05T18:46:00.000-07:002006-04-05T19:06:16.306-07:00

It's a day to celebrate when a case of new books arrives on my doorstep. This time it's the third and final volume in the Coming Home to Ruby Prairie trilogy. Charlotte Leaves the Light On will be available soon in bookstores. It can be pre-ordered now from amazon.com or christianbooks.com. Here's a peak at what's on the back cover:As usual, nothing is going quite the way Charlotte Carter planned

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1144036499906580962006-04-02T20:29:00.000-07:002006-04-02T20:54:59.926-07:00

I'm dancing the happy dance. The yippee-the-book-is-finished-boogie. Making Ends Meet, my just completed novel, is now out of my hands and in my capable editor's possession. I am DONE.At least for now. Edits will come. There's more work ahead, but for tonight I'm reveling in a reprieve.During the last month of writing a book, pretty much everything not necessary for sustaining life comes to a

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1141598591459902012006-03-05T14:26:00.000-08:002006-03-05T14:43:11.483-08:00

Last Saturday, my husband Randy and his friend Keith (Randy's on the right) ran the Cowtown Marathon in Fort Worth. Wow! Twenty-six miles. Keith say's he's ready to do it again. Randy? He's thinking his marathon was one of those once-in-a-life time experiences.Way to go guys!

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1140381036362449622006-02-19T11:18:00.000-08:002006-02-19T15:57:16.683-08:00

It was a sunny May day when Randy and I spoke our vows under a massive oak tree in my parents' back yard. The base of the tree was ringed with yellow marigolds my mother had planted early that spring. She'd heard marigolds were a sign of faithfulness and she'd put them in the ground with my wedding day in mind.On the day we married, Randy and I were young. Energetic. Naive. And hopeful.Fast

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1139593790646354302006-02-10T08:39:00.000-08:002006-02-12T15:39:04.646-08:00

My husband Randy and I grew up in the same denomination, one that is traditionally conservative, sometimes quite rigid. As we've gotten older we both have grown uncomfortable with many of the practices and beliefs of the churches of our childhoods. Yet this denomination is our heritage. It is much of who we are. Leaving it is not an option.Thankfully, there are a wide variety of practices within

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1139001924257686012006-02-03T12:45:00.000-08:002006-02-03T13:25:24.296-08:00

Three days ago I met a chatty, colorful woman from the Netherlands. She and her family moved to Texas in 1999 to start a dairy farm. At first, they worked together to build their business. But then three years ago, her husband died, leaving her and their five children to manage the dairy alone.I found the woman's situation unimaginable. Had it been me, a young widow alone in a foreign country,

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1138408617620356352006-01-27T16:27:00.000-08:002006-01-29T12:50:12.163-08:00

It's been suggested to me on occasion (mostly by editors unfortunate enough to reside north of the Mason Dixon line) that my characters would be a bit more believable if I toned them down a little. Made them a tiny bit less eccentric, okay, maybe not quite so redneck. The truth is that the folks I write about are almost always inspired by real people I know. The words they speak are prompted by

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21242821.post-1137785013808976672006-01-20T10:41:00.000-08:002006-01-20T16:31:41.040-08:00

When I was twenty years old, I became a registered nurse. When I was thirty-nine, my first book was published. How amazed I was to get paid money for something I wrote. I would have done it for nothing just to see a cover with my name on it. I used the advance from that book to get three teeth filled and to buy a new bed and brand new sheets. During the next few years, I wrote several more books.

Annette Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06064745037847668357noreply@blogger.com1