Win a visit from me to YOUR hometown!

Are you ready for me to visit your hometown? Take you and a friend to dinner? Come by and visit your work, church, school or book club?

Entering is easy:

1. Write on a postcard just ONE thing you're thankful for (family, country, fried Twinkies, etc.) and mail it to:

Jason Wright
PO BOX 669
Woodstock, VA 22664

2. Enter up to TEN times per household with something DIFFERENT written on each stamped postcard. (postcards must be received by Wednesday. November 25th)

3. Watch us online as we pick a random winner on the evening of Thanksgiving, November 26th.



How easy is that?

The winner and I will schedule (at our mutual convenience) a visit to their hometown (continental US only).

I'll also take the winner and a guest out to dinner at the restaurant of their choice and pay a visit to their work, church, school or book club.

Good luck! I'll be watching for your postcards in the mail.

Christmas Jars Book Giveaway

So here I sit in my office trying to ignore the flu-like symptoms I brought home from Seattle. Across the room I see my private stash of Christmas Jars (sans dust jackets) and I get to thinking: What better medicine than giving away a book?!?

I'll send a signed/personalized copy to the first person who correctly guesses how many agents originally refused to take on Christmas Jars.

What's your guess? Winner named on Wednesday night.

Unfortunate update about Christmas Jars Movie contest

Bad news: Smarty pants attorneys have suggested I shouldn't run the "Win a Walk-on Role Contest" until we have a location and approximate shooting schedule. So in the meantime, please stay tuned for a supergroovyawesome replacement contest...The wheels are already spinning!

Oh, and if you see an attorney on the street, kick him or her in the shins for me!

Operation 1,001 - Empty Jars to Christmas Jars

(Well, she did it! My dear friend Laurie Paisley, without poking, prodding or help from me, met her goal of placing 1,001 empty Christmas Jars on counters all across the country. With the support of friends and family, Laurie spearheaded the effort to not just find homes for 1,001 jars, but to place at least one in every state! Below is her account of the journey. I know you'll enjoy.)

OPERATION 1,001 - EMPTY JARS TO CHRISTMAS JARS

October 14, 2009

I stand here in my kitchen as I did five months ago, wondering what just happened!! Five months ago I had this incredible feeling to share the Christmas jar tradition with a 1,001 people. Today I mailed jar #1,001!! 

If I’m honest....I never thought I could find 1,001 people to fill an empty jar by Christmas! I don’t know 1,001 people!! I have an amazing family, incredible friends and very patient co-workers at Barnes and Noble. 

They’ve all had to put up with me since I discovered the book, Christmas Jars, by Jason F. Wright, four years ago. I say “put up with” because they have endured thousands of conversations I’ve had with friends and customers and every year they’ve helped me achieve numerous sales goals for the book. Of course I’ve dealt with a lot of jokes, eye rolling and “whatevers” from them too! However, everyone of them has a jar! Each year I promise them I’m going to move on to another book, but somehow it always comes back to “the jar”.  

May 4th, 2009 - Journal Entry
Wow! I just finished reading the advance reader copy of Christmas Jars Reunion. After finishing, I got this ridiculous idea that I could collect and distribute 1,001 empty jars by December. I’ve really tried hard to dismiss the idea but for some reason it continues to linger in the back of my mind. It’s like a very loud voice or an overall incredibly warm feeling. This is something that has never happened to me before. 

I finally sat down at the computer and fired off an email to my family requesting their help in gathering 1,001 jars.  As usual, they are willing to help, however, like me, they have their doubts about the lofty goal. My sister said it best, “Laur, You’re always getting me involved in these crazy ideas of yours, but I’ll help!"

May 5th, 2009 - Journal Entry
This crazy idea is keeping me awake at night!  I’m not sure where to begin. To make myself feel better I went to Walmart and purchased 48 mason jars!! Then off to Office Max to purchase labels that will go on the bottom of each jar - www.christmasjars.com . Now if I can only find someone to give a jar to I’d be on my way!

May 12th, 2009 - Journal Entry
Jars #11-15 found homes today. Jar #15 went to the 10 year old boy next door.  We sat on his steps while I explained the Christmas jar to him.  He asked a lot of questions and we agreed to donate his jar together.  He immediately ran upstairs and brought down his piggy bank and emptied it into the jar and it was 3/4 full!  He was so excited he asked his mom how much money he had in his bank account.  I told him he could only put change in the jar and he responded, “I’ll take the dollars and turn them into change so I can put it in the jar”! What a kid!

May 22nd, 2009 - Journal Entry
I had my first argument with a very good friend over my Christmas jars project.  I got a very nasty email from her. She assumed that because I was tracking the jars by putting a number on the sticker on the bottom of the jar that I was going to get some kind of credit if the person receiving the jar sent a note to Jason.  She gave me a lecture that giving was supposed to be anonymous - to which I responded that the Christmas jars were given that way.  Anyway, 60 jars up....one friend down! Oh, I’m no longer putting numbers on the bottoms of the jars....just tracking them in a little black book!

And so it went over the next few months. As more and more people asked for jars and books I started to realize how far reaching this project could be. How much fun would it be to get a jar filled in all 50 states?

Once again, I don’t know people in all 50 states so I again requested the help from friends and family!  The response was amazing and we soon had all 50 states with a jar along with Italy, Ukraine, Thailand, Canada, England, Taiwan, Ireland, Holland, France and China. Most went to American families living in those countries.

This project has more than exceeded my expectations. I have met some amazing people, I have reconnected with many of my high school friends who I haven’t seen or talked to in 27 years, and I have heard so many “thank yous” from so many people.  I can sit back on Christmas Eve and smile knowing that so many people will be receiving a jar! I won’t need any Christmas present this year...mine came early. It came on October 14th when I mailed out jar #1,001!

I’ve learned that you can do anything you set your mind to.  No matter how mind boggling it may seem at the beginning, if you can dream it you can achieve it.  It just takes a little bit of heart, some passion for the cause and a lot of determination!!

Now......I’m not focusing on the 1,001...but "the one"...the one jar I plan to give away this Christmas that will change someone's life!

First TV piece of the fall

It's exciting to see the movement beginning to find its way back onto TV this fall. Check out this story from my recent visit to Idaho.

How's your jar coming along?

Win a copy of Christmas Jars Reunion on CD

My good friend, Al, is producing a commercial for my two new books and needs your brief opinion.

Call 801-876-0180 and follow the recorded directions. You simply state your first name, city, state and how Christmas Jars has impacted you.

It only takes a few seconds and if he uses your comments you'll receive a copy of Christmas Jars Reunion on CD.

Good luck! And thank you...

Wright Words: Life at 37,000 feet

My latest syndicated column. Hope you enjoy!

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Wright Words: Life at 37,000 feet

There are two questions I field more than any other. The first is predictable: “Can you help me get my book published?”

The easy answer is “Maybe, but I probably won’t. I don’t need any more competition than I already have." I kid, I’d be happy to help. As long as your book is gut wrenching memoir of a karaoke singing llama.

The second question: "Is it hard being away from home so often?” I wish there were an equally satisfying answer.

I’m the definition of a frequent flier. And by ‘flier’ I mean as a passenger on airplanes, not in the cockpit. And by ‘frequent’ I mean I can reenact the Delta safety video verbatim. You’ve seen it; it’s the one that features a redheaded super-model flight attendant with a no-smoking finger-wag that should merit a PG-13 rating.

Traveling can be brutal. The good news is my wife has me trained to pack and live from a carry-on, even on longer trips. The bad news is they still make me check the bags under my eyes at $15 a pop.

Maybe some of you are airport rats, too. You know that traveling as much as we do has ups and downs. For me the downs are easy to name: Kodi, Oakli, Jadi, Kason, Koleson.

Unfortunately it is my beautiful bride of sixteen-years, Kodi, who tucks my four children into bed more often than I do. She's the one who gets the last hug of the day from my two girls who no longer need assistance with jammies or tooth brushing, but still crave a moment or two every night to be reminded how much they are loved.

Kodi is also the one who enjoys the sweet and innocent cheek kisses from my five-year-old son who’s smack in his ‘dad-is-my-hero’ phase. If you’ve ever had a five-year-old boy who behaves as though his biological father might be Evil Knievel, you know just what I mean. My kid once demanded a DNA test.

Then there's my two-year-old. While I'm fussing with the thermostat in a concrete hotel room somewhere, my wife is snuggling next to our youngest as he drifts into sleep. I imagine him gripping one of her fingers with his left hand, his own little security system to ensure she doesn't escape too soon. Only when he's breathing deeply and lost in the land of baby boy dreams will she gently pry her finger from his and shut the door behind her. Those are sacred moments.

How about the pros of living at 37,000 feet? Those are just as easy to enumerate and one of them might be reading this very piece: You. I love meeting readers across the country, and I fully appreciate that being a writer means I need to connect with readers as much as possible. For me there isn’t anything more exciting than walking onto a stage with 800 people waiting to hear you tell a story. Or sitting at a rickety table in a mom & pop bookstore and having a reader tell you their book moved them to do or feel something entirely new. It’s magic.

I once drove with my good friend Mr. Please Kill Me Now Sore Throat over seven hours to a January signing in a North Carolina town so small the entire population showed up. All seventeen of them. They gave me a key to the city and put me on the ballot for mayor. It was certainly a trip I’ll never forget. Not necessarily for the day itself, though it was perfectly charming, but for the genuine thank you note I received from the bookstore owner. I’ve never been thanked with such sincerity. It would have made missing the nighttime routine at the Wright house a bit easier to swallow. If I could have.

Then there was the recent trip with a first time flier in her mid-fifties. She talked from takeoff to touch down to ease her anxiety. I'm embarrassed to admit that I passed most of those three hours trying not to be annoyed: Doesn’t she know I have episodes of ‘24’ to catch up on? Yes, that was a con. But when we landed and she took my hand in both of hers and thanked me for making her flight so comfortable, well - that as a pro.

A few days ago I got my first glance at my fall tour schedule. It was hard not to notice how many nights I'd be spending alone in a hotel with scratchy sheets and $3 bottled water. But it's easy to see that in places like Salt Lake City, Boise, Indianapolis, Sacramento and Portland, I'm going to meet the kindest, most amazing people who've also made a sacrifice to be there that night.

As I shake their grateful hands, stand in their photos and sign their books, I will sometimes picture my wife at home snuggling with my sleepy two-year-old. I'll miss them all, but I'll thank heaven above she's home to do it so well.

Then I'll look back at someone who took precious time from his or her own busy life to share a moment with me and offer thanks for taking time from my family to be there in their hometown.

Yes there pros and cons to living at 37,000 feet. But I wouldn’t change a thing. That’s life. That’s my life.

Wright Words: The Cameron Birch Christmas Jar Story

My latest syndicated column. Enjoy!

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Wright Words: The Cameron Birch Christmas Jar Story

I am often asked, “who received the very first Christmas Jar?” While that’s impossible to know with complete certainty, I have always believed the first jar was received by perhaps the most worthy recipient ever. His name is Cameron Birch, and to commemorate this month’s release of Christmas Jars Reunion, the sequel to Christmas Jars, I thought a gentle reminder of where it began and why it matters four years later would be the perfect way to celebrate the arrival of colored leaves, crisp nights, and mysterious jars of change.

Cameron is a unique young man with a mission as inspiring as any you will ever hear. This is his story.

(As told by his father, Matt Birch, in December of 2005.)

_____


A little more than two years ago I was just a husband and father, enjoying my three amazing sons and beautiful wife. Cameron was four and like his older brothers, Braden and Tyson, had endless energy and personality and couldn't wait for the next big adventure. No one could have predicted the next adventure life had planned for him.

We embarked on that adventure January 9th, 2005 when we took Cameron to the emergency room after an unusually long bout with what we thought was a virus, or another average childhood ailment. Over the course of a month, spanning the Christmas holidays, his appetite left him and he began to lose weight. Every morning brought a severe headache and vomiting. He was actually excited to go to the hospital so the doctors could give him "good medicine to make my headaches go away," he said.

We all felt that way until a serious-looking doctor told us they found the reason Cameron was having headaches. "It's bad, very bad," he quietly whispered to us.

Six hours later we stood watching helplessly as Cameron was wheeled into surgery to have a malignant tumor the size of a golf ball removed from his brain. What was supposed to be nothing more than a quick trip to the hospital turned into a two week stay. It was the first of many more to come.

My wife and I struggled to understand what was happening. It seemed surreal, as if life were simultaneously going in slow motion and at the speed of light. We worried about how to make a four-year-old understand something we hadn't yet grasped. We didn't have to. He never asked any questions like, "Why me?" He never complained. The closest he ever came to complaining was during a particularly difficult day when he said, "Dad, this cancer stuff stinks."

He suffered through six weeks of radiation and months and months of chemotherapy. The radiation was the hardest part for him. He was fed through a tube and continued to throw up 20 to 30 times a day. He couldn't eat, play with his friends, or do many of the things most of us take for granted. What he did do was smile, laugh, and inspire everyone who met him.

One day, during a discussion with his aunt, he declared, "My mission in life is to beat cancer." He fulfilled that mission with everything he had. His little body may have suffered in the battle, but cancer never stood a chance against his faith, smile, laugh, attitude, and spirit. He totally and completely forgot about himself and worried about other cancer patients.

He would say, "It hurts my heart" to see other cancer patients because he knew they didn't feel well. When he was first diagnosed, he began praying for the other children with cancer. In every prayer, without fail, he would ask, "Please help all the other kids kill their cancer." He rarely prayed for himself. He was more concerned for the other kids.

His efforts went beyond prayer, too. He acted on his mission to beat cancer. In July of 2005 he asked for help setting up a fundraiser for the "other kids." He set up "Cam's Stand For Kids With Cancer," a stand along the parade route of the largest parade in Utah. He sold drinks, ice cream, and candy, raising hundreds of dollars. He took every penny of it and with his brothers personally made "Build-a-Bears" for each of the brain tumor patients at Primary Children's Hospital. Here was a four-year-old boy with hundreds of dollars and not once did he ask if he could have some of it for himself. The only question he asked was, "When can we go give the kids their bears"?

For 11 months everything was going perfectly with his treatments. There was no sign of cancer anywhere. His health was good and he was even able to get out and enjoy his friends. We were starting to plan a neighborhood party to celebrate the end of his treatments, and were looking forward to our family's trip to Disney World through the Make-a-Wish Foundation. We believed he was one of the lucky few.

We never made it to Disney World. November of 2005 brought another discovery that turned our world upside down, again. During a routine MRI, they discovered the cancer had returned. It had come back with a vengeance and now coated his spine with a layer of cancerous cells and spread up into his brain. In a cruel irony, the original tumor location was still completely cancer free. Options for his treatments were very limited at this point. The doctors thought he would make it until Christmas, but they couldn't guarantee anything.

The day after his re-diagnosis, I was home alone with Cameron. Cameron didn't know his cancer had returned yet. I was curious to know how he would take the news. Throughout the treatments we had always talked to him about how it was possible for the cancer to come back, but never dwelt on that possibility. I asked him, "So buddy what would you do if your cancer came back?" Without hesitation he answered, "That would be OK, we would just start over and do it all again." So we started over.

Shortly before Christmas the new treatments began, and Cameron had another idea that he wouldn't let go of. He wanted to give something else to the kids suffering with cancer. He thought about it and talked about it with us. He wanted very much to buy some toys for the cancer patient's playroom in the hospital. He loved to play with the toys and puzzles when he went in for his treatments. The playroom was one of the only places the children could go to escape the pain and worries associated with the rest of the hospital. He talked to the nurses and social workers to find out which toys were needed the most. He was very excited to go and buy them for the kids.

Unfortunately, the cancer got ahead of Cameron's plans. He often spoke of going to the store to buy the toys but his little body had begun to shut down. He struggled to walk, his appetite was gone, and he was suffering from double vision making it difficult for him to watch his favorite movies or play video games. Cancer was slowly robbing him of all of his favorite things and robbing us of our little boy.

Late one night just before Christmas, a knock at the door changed our family forever. The kids rushed from the family room and threw open the door to find nothing but the cold December night. In place of a visitor, there were two large jars sitting on our porch. Each was labeled in bright letters, "Christmas Jar." Attached to one of them was a copy of the book Christmas Jars and a note. The note explained how the anonymous giver had read this book and how it had changed his life. My oldest two sons each brought a jar inside and excitedly unscrewed the lids. One jar was filled with pennies. The other was filled with other change and some paper money.

I had just read the book and so I retold the story as well as I could. We talked about what it means to give unselfishly to others. We tried to figure out what generous person might have left the jars. Cameron was very excited that someone would do that for him and his family. He understood we got the jars because he had cancer. A light that had been dimmed by illness burned a little brighter in Cameron's eyes that night. This simple act of giving stopped - for just one night - the steady march of a terrible disease.

The next morning, Cameron commenced with the counting. He got down on the floor and counted each penny one by one. When all the money had been carefully counted, the total was more than $300. Then Cameron said something that captured his true spirit, "Why do people want to help me so much?" he asked.

"Well, because people love you and they feel badly that you are sick so they want to help," I replied.

"But dad, I can do this all by myself," he calmly answered.

Cameron decided at that moment to take the money from the Christmas Jars and use it to buy the toys for the hospital's playroom.

Cameron was never well enough to go to the store and buy the toys himself. Three weeks after Christmas he suffered a severe seizure that sent him to the hospital for another stay in the ICU, much of it on life support. After two weeks, we were finally able to take him home where he spent his final ten days on this earth surrounded by family and friends. Even as his body lay in his bed losing its battle to cancer, physically unable to speak, he continued his life's mission of beating cancer.

Everyone who visited Cameron left with a new resolve to live life as the gift that it is. Resolved to never take things for granted. Resolved to face each challenge with a smile. Resolved to always remember, no matter what setbacks come in life to say, "That's OK, we can just start over and do it all again."

A month after his death we were finally able to take the money from the Christmas Jars and buy the toys for the hospital. Right now there are children playing with new toys at the hospital because of the spirit of one little five-year-old boy, and an anonymous giver who understands the true meaning of Christmas and giving.

Recently, I was reminded of this when I spoke with the father of a little girl Cameron befriended while they were undergoing chemotherapy. On a recent trip to the hospital she went to the playroom because she wanted to play with a tool bench Cameron donated.

She was very disappointed when it wasn't there. "Where is the tool bench," she inquired of a nurse. The nurse told her how a little boy who was too sick to leave his room had asked for the tool bench to be brought to his room so he could play with it because it was his favorite toy. I knew that Cameron had a smile on his face as, even in death, he continues to "beat cancer."

This little boy is the reason Cameron did what he did. That is the reason someone gave my family a Christmas Jar. That is the magic of the human spirit and the magic of what one jar can do. My family thinks of Cameron every time we put a coin in this year's Christmas Jar. We can't wait to give it to someone special for Christmas and watch as the miracle spreads even further.

_____


(Cameron passed away six weeks after spreading the spirit of the Christmas Jar by using the funds from his own jar to bless the lives of other children. His family continues to fill and give away jars each year in his honor.)

And the winner is?

The total in the office Christmas Jar is $82.16. Unless my math is wrong, which is very likely, it looks like Glen A. Jones is the winner. Congrats Glen! Drop me a note with your address and I'll get your free copy of Penny's Christmas Jar Miracle in the mail.

Win a free copy of Penny's Christmas Jar Miracle

The new book is in! And thanks to the brilliant work of illustrator Ben Sowards, it's GORGEOUS.

Want to win literally one of the very first copies off the press and shipped?

Here is a picture of the Christmas Jar that sits on a bookshelf in my office. It's not the family jar, it's for me and my occasional office guests to drop our change in.

Guess how much is in the jar in the comments below. Closest to the actual total (yes, I counted!) will win a signed copy of Penny's Christmas Jar Miracle weeks before you can buy it! You can count on one hand the number of people outside my publisher's building that have seen this brand spankin' new book.

HINT: There are no bills. The jar contains only Quarters, Dimes, Nickels and Pennies.

Closest to the actual total by Saturday evening wins the book.

You may change your guess at any point, but you must delete your previous guesses.

Good luck!

Do you have a star on this map?

Make a Wish

Very good friends of my family know that my nephew, Wil, has just left for his two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. After a two-month stint at a training center where he'll be learning Spanish, among other things, Wil heads off for areas in El Salvador, San Salvador West and Belize.

My oldest brother Sterling, Wil's father, wrote these words in the final days before Wil's departure last week. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Make a Wish
Sterling Wright

“Good point. Hey, look, it’s 11:11. Make a wish!”

I don’t know which of my children introduced the practice of wishing when the clock showed all ones. Like wishing on a star or over a burning birthday cake, the clock wish has been a harmless habit in my household for many years.

At this particular 11:11, my son Wil and I were leaving the parking lot of Lowe’s, the back of the minivan filled with materials we needed to get his room ready for its next occupant. The combination of a beautiful day, a minivan, and Lowe’s turned my mind back to the first time Wil and I were in this parking lot. It was a sunny day in March, 1990. I was an exhausted father who needed to stop for a box of nails. Wil was a quiet newborn taking one of his first rides in the van.

He was so new and quiet and I was so tired that I forgot he was with me. Only when I looked in the mirror after getting back in the van did I remember – with more than a little shock – that I had the baby that morning. He looked at me without judgment or complaint. He was simply waiting for me to tell him what I bought.

When he was six or so, Lowe’s expanded from an over-sized hardware store to the man-malls that we know today. It wasn’t too far from the church so we went window-shopping while my oldest was at Mutual. The store had only been open for a couple of days and it had that new store smell. It took over an hour to visit every aisle. Wil wanted to know what everything was and how it worked.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that we have made hundreds of trips to Lowe’s together. Wil still wants to know what things are, how they work, and what they are used for. The big difference is that I can no longer get away with vague or fabricated answers. “It makes water better to drink” doesn’t cut it any more.

There were no questions today, just two men getting the job done. As I got ready to pull out of the parking space, Wil said, “I just realized that this might be the last time we go to Lowe’s together before I leave.”

By the time anyone reads this, my only son will be in the Mission Training Center getting ready to go to El Salvador. Those of you who have sent missionaries into the field know how the date creeps up on you. It is down the last aisle of the store by the drywall and lumber. Then suddenly it’s right in front of you. Then you are driving home from Lowe’s alone.

I turned to grin at him and we shared a realization based on my home improvement track record. I gave it voice. “Son, this might not be the last time you come to Lowe’s with me today."

“Good point. Hey, look, it’s 11:11. Make a wish!”

I wish you were six again.

The world is full of amazing people, like this one

You may have seen this email that went out earlier today regarding my Christmas Jars survey.

Shortly after the e-mail was sent, I received this note. What a sweet reminder that the world is full of some amazing people. This is one of them. This person did all of this on their own with no help from me or my publisher. And obviously they're not done yet!

(name withheld)

"After I read the Christmas Jars Reunion advance copy I had a very unusual experience."

"I closed the computer and paced around the kitchen just kind of listening.  Had a
really weird feeling. I ignored it for days even though it was keeping me up at night and waking me up in the middle of the night.  I've never really had that experience where I thought I heard God speaking to me.  So....wasn't really sure what was happening.  I told my mom and she said, Dear, you have to listen when that happens. So I did..."

"I emailed my family and asked them to help me find 1,000 people to fill empty jars. I didn't want the jars back, I just wanted to introduce 1,000 people to the tradition and have them experience what it was like to do a jar.  Of course, it's May and we don't have much time, they thought I was crazy but agreed to help me.  I've had so much going on around here and several times decided I couldn't do it but then some other sign would show up and that voice would get a little louder and I would continue."

"Long story short, as of today, we have given away, 500 empty jars and I have all the names and locations written in a little book. Those jars are located in:

Indiana
Ohio
Arizona
Wisconsin
Illinois
Virginia
Kentucky
Texas
North Carolina
South Carolina
Massachusetts
Georgia
Missouri
Florida
New York
Michigan
California
Washington (state)
Hawaii
New Jersey
Connecticut
Oklahoma
Pennsylvania

Canada
England
Taiwan
Ukraine
Italy

Not done yet!"

Jason's Cheesy Web Videos - Episode #15

Winners!

In case you missed it on Facebook or Twitter, the winners in the free book contest were Shawn Neagle and Molly Edwards. Congrats!

Win a limited edition advance copy of Christmas Jars Reunion

I've been thinking for weeks how I wanted to give away a copy of CJR. Then like a bolt of lightening, or bad pizza, it hit me! So there are two ways you can win:

1. "Follow" me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/jasonfwright and I will randomly pick one "follower" and mail them an ARC.

2. Send a picture of you (family, pet, whatever) posing with, holding up, tossing in the ocean, setting flame to, admiring or ripping up any one of my previous books. Tag me in it (on Facebook) and I'll let my kids pick the most creative picture. Be creative! Winner gets an ARC.

Deadline for both will be Monday, August 10th. Winner announced Monday night or Tuesday morning.

Good luck! You could have an advance copy of the new novel within a week!

Sneak peek of Christmas Jars Reunion now available

You've begged, you've prodded, you've sent threatening mail. OK, maybe that was just my mother. Nevertheless, I'm pleased to make available a sneak peek of Christmas Jars Reunion.

Click here to read now.

Hope you enjoy!

Checking in from the 11th floor

A moment of silence, please: Vacation is officially over.

I dropped the rest of the gang off at the airport for a flight back to Virginia and I checked into a downtown hotel. I do enjoy the quiet and it's certainly conducive to working long hours on a manuscript, but I sure miss the havoc in my mother-law's basement and listening to my loving, kind and patient children "interact".

One daughter opened a handmade greeting card store at the table and forcefully recruited her brother as an employee. The other daughter took special orders for Zoob creations while the baby bounced for hours on an exercise trampoline signing Hannah Montana.

Yes, I miss them all terribly. Maybe I'll order room service? That will make me feel better!

So what's next? I will spend the next several days editing The Cross Gardener. Here's what the process looks like:

1. Submit a first draft to both my agent and editor at Penguin. (DONE)

2. Wait anxiously for feedback. (DONE)

3. Toss and turn. (DONE)

4. Make sure my email and cell phone are working properly when I haven't heard anything right away. (DONE)

5. Toss and turn some more. (DONE)

6. Get first response from agent. (This is typical, her feedback isn't nearly as detailed as an editor's.) (DONE)

7. Receive my editorial letter! It's a little old-school, but it's how many editors still prefer to work. A week after submitting my draft, and with no communication during the meantime, I received an 8-page letter opening with her general "big picture" reaction. Then it goes to what she loved, what she didn't, and chapter-by-chapter feedback. Most of the suggestions are up to me whether or not to implement. Some will take minutes to change, others will take hours. The overall feeling is great. They loved it and want to make it even better. What a coincidence, so do I! (DONE)

8. Editing begins. I have 2-3 weeks to make my changes and submit a new draft. In reality, the finished product will look very similar to what they've already read. Fortunately no major, structural changes were requested. Because I've been on vacation with little or no time to edit, I'm down to less than a week to make my edits. Worry? Who, me?

9. By August 3 I'll submit a new draft which will be read by a wider universe at Penguin. Thus far only my editor and her boss have read it. The next draft will be distributed to quite a few readers, including the head-honcho-publisher.

10. All comments will be filtered by my editor and reported back to me within a few days. Hopefully the second round of changes, if any, are very minor. I'll submit my final draft asap.

And there you have it! The book will go to press for Advance Reading Copies sometime in mid-August and by September 1 their sales team will be pitching the book to the media, book buyers, wholesalers, etc. They'll have six months to get the book properly buzzed and ready for hardcover release, and they'll use every minute of it!

Then what? I'll begin the second manuscript of my two-book deal and submit it by Thanksgiving. Whew! I need a vacation :)

Wright Words: Second Chances and Recovering Charles

Wright Words: Second Chances and Recovering Charles

One year ago I was locked in a hotel room in my hometown of Woodstock, Virginia writing round-the-clock to finish my most recent novel, Recovering Charles.

The book is set in New Orleans just as Hurricane Katrina hits. It’s about a man whose estranged father, who had been living in New Orleans, goes missing after the storm. Luke hadn’t spoken to his father for nearly two years. He and Charles quit speaking to each other after Charles made one too many bad decisions.

Luke finally decides to make his way to the beaten city and there tries to find his father or, at least, find out what happened to him. Not only does Luke not know where his father is, he doesn’t know for sure what his father has become.

Luke is searching for the man named Charles who always needed money or some other favor, but he might also be looking for the loving father that left him years before. Charles stopped being that father when he gave in to his demons.

Luke gave up on Charles and Charles stopped bothering Luke.

All but the very best of us hold grudges. We righteously banish ex-spouses, estranged family members, friends who betray us, and other unpleasant people to an exile enforced by averted eyes and caller-ID. As long as we tell ourselves that – one day – we will make things right, we can justify our behavior as punishment for what we have suffered.

In the book, the possibility that Charles might be dead shakes Luke’s self-righteousness. Without an “I’m sorry, son” there could be no “I forgive you, Dad.” Luke begins to believe that Charles was looking for a second chance. Luke’s search for his father takes on new urgency as he realizes that he might just want to give him one.

So, who deserves a second chance? Where is the threshold of forgiveness? When one of my kids does something wrong, I’m quick to explain that they can make it right and get a clean slate. Children surely deserve second chances as they learn about consequences.

What about a cheating spouse? An abusive father? A vindictive lawyer? The drunk driver who kills a loved one? Do any of them deserve a second chance?

I know someone on the receiving end of each of those situations. And in each case, they forgave. None of the offenses could be undone but the bitterness and hatred dissolved once the offended decided to offer a second chance.

I also know people who proudly lug around grudges collected over a lifetime. When they let one go, it is often just to make room for another. They are slow to give out second chances because they know it means they have to give up one of their precious grudges.

When I started writing Recovering Charles, I didn’t know exactly how it would end. But Luke led me through the story and dictated its conclusion.

I learned a lot about myself as “what does he do next” began to reflect “what would I do”.

I’m still not sure that Luke and I are all that similar but I do know that I’ve learned to believe in second chances. I plan to give as many as I can.

I sure hope to get a few, too.

Wright Words: Spic and Span Fiction

My latest syndicated column. Enjoy!

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Wright Words: Spic and Span Fiction

When I'm not writing, I'm often reading. There are so many incredibly talented authors out there that I consider the local Barnes and Noble to be a writer's university. New ideas about composition, character development, point of view, and the other aspects of telling a good story occur to me while reading someone else's good work.

I never deliberately copy another writer's style or incorporate elements of a novel I read into a novel I write. I just expect that what I read and what I write will sort of mix in my subconscious and give me a richer palette the next time I set out to paint a story.

Lately, some of what I've been reading has taught me something that I have resolved not to do. Ever.

Mark the date and save this text. I will never use foul, crude, disgusting language or create explicit images of sex or graphic violence.

That statement probably doesn't surprise people who know me personally or even just know a lot about me. I was raised in a family and culture where purity of thought, speech, and action are moral issues. Here is a surprise for you, though. My values and beliefs are part of the reason I won't write from the gutter but the main reason is something much more worldly.

I want people to buy my books. I want them to read one and then go out and buy all of the other ones. I want them to tell all of their friends about the great new writer they discovered.

The question I have asked and answered is this: who is more likely to be offended, the reader who has to wade through prose that she finds offensive or the one who is disappointed that the book doesn't include a good sex scene?

For hundreds of years, authors found ways to write about every aspect of life. Any fundamental conflict, tense or romantic situation, or other intense scene that a modern writer describes with crude language has a similar version written with clean, carefully chosen words.

My first novel, The James Miracle , includes a horrible car accident, several heated arguments and tense family scenes.

Christmas Jars is about an abandoned baby who grows up to lose the woman who raised her. She is robbed, cheated, betrayed, and suffers another terrible personal loss.

The siblings in The Wednesday Letters argue and reconcile and deal with the death of their parents without saying anything much cruder than “Shut up”. The book includes other intense scenes and physical confrontations that might have been “easier” to describe had I used vulgarity.

The most recent novel, Recovering Charles , manages - with polite language - to describe three romantic relationships, several arguments, and the death and destruction that Katrina inflicted on New Orleans .

There is obviously a market for R-rated books and I have nothing against those who write them. But this writer hopes to make a living sticking with PG material. I trust my readers to use my words to build mental images that they find appropriate. I'm certainly not the only “clean” writer in the industry, but, if I were, that would be OK with me.

What do you think? Am I a prude pushing my standards on my readers? Have you ever put down a book because it was too vulgar? Too clean? Let me know by leaving a comment below.