Selling Books Like A Client Advisor

Selling Books Like a Client Advisor

By Alice J. Wisler


My husband Carl makes a tasty beef stroganoff, cleans the kitchen after cooking, is an attentive listener, and when asked, will give his opinion. He also sells used cars. Of course, you would expect that the company where he's employed - BMW - would come up with a classy name for its used car salesmen. They are known as client advisors. And the cars aren't called used; they are pre-owned. During his first weeks at BMW, Carl still had a lot to learn about each feature of the cars in stock, but even so, he was praised. His ability to engage with customers was appealing to the management. He'd also sold a number of cars, and one of his clients invited both of us to his annual Christmas party.

As authors with books, we can learn from client advisors. True, what each of us really wants is to sell is a 328i or a romance novel. But the manner in which we do our selling is key to staying credible and authentic in a society that is filled with irritating sales folk. Plenty of authors push their paperbacks as though they are better than immortality. This can be exhausting for the customer. The real question to ponder is, do you care about your readership? Does it show?

The other day I read a post on a business blog, promoting a particular author. This blogger was impressed with the author for the way in which he responded to email messages. "He is quick to write back, unlike typical authors." I read between the lines: Unlike most authors, who either don't respond, or take forever to do so, this author cares. Write to him. You won't be wasting your time.

I know one thing: I don't want to be that author who neglects her audience. I want to be like the salesman at Lowe's, who claims, "In the fourteen years that I've been a salesman, I've always made it a point to meet my customers' needs first. It's not about selling what I want them to buy, but finding out what meets and suits their needs." His customers even followed him when he transferred to another store in town.

In a similar fashion, my sister-in-law, a massage therapist, asks her newsletter subscribers for their advice. "Tell me how I can make your experience better," she writes. She wants her readers to lead enhanced lives, offering details about workshops she's attended that have helped with her mental and physical health. She's looking at the whole person, not just that they get their muscles taken care of by her.

In their book, The Heart of Marketing: Love Your Customers and They Will Love You Back, authors Judith Sherven and Jim Sniechowski are more interested in creating a relationship than closing a sale. They use the soft-sale approach to marketing products and services as opposed to the bottom-line driven method. Much recognition has been given to them as they lead others in this heart-inspired style of doing business.

As you market your books, don't be so focused on the sale, but on the buyer. Naturally, you want him to buy a book or two (how about ten?), but there is more to life than your book. You can tell him how helpful the book is with its tips on collecting butterflies or growing petunias. Or for a novel, you can tell of its merit due to reviews you've receivedóhow others have found it enjoyable. But if you are vain, prideful, or snotty, you can turn customers off. Listen to those who come to your book signings. Engage in their thoughts and comments about what makes them tick. Let it be about them, and they will remember how good you made them feel. Follow this rule of the heart and watch your readership grow.

You, too, can become a caring client advisor!

[This article was first published in the July 07, 2010 issue of WritersWeekly.]

~ Alice J. Wisler loves it when her husband cooks dinner so that she has more time to create characters for her Southern novels. While she feels everyone would benefit from reading about Ducee and her pineapple chutney-making rituals (RAIN SONG), bandana-wearing Jonas and his swinging wrench (HOW SWEET IT IS), and Aunt Sheerly's enthusiasm for winning the Kitty Hawk song competition (HATTERAS GIRL), her children remind her that there is more to life than her novels published by Bethany House. However, she's sure they wouldn't mind if you ventured to her website to read more, sign up for her newsletter, or comment on her blog: http://www.alicewisler.com

He was just a little boy . . .

It's that time of year again. That time when the yellow raincoat hanging in my closet feels as heavy as my heart. Everyone else is older now and with each passing year, this raincoat looks smaller than it did when he wore it. How could he have once been so small?

I look into the face of my son, that cute photo I took when I was just taking another picture of a child. Back before I realized that it would one day help to heal my heart.

There is so much I don't know. I don't know why Daniel spoke of Heaven so fondly. We never told him that he was going to die. I suppose it was because I never believed he would. Not until the very end after the staph infection shut his body down and the EEG confirmed what I did not want to hear. My son was brain dead.

Prior to that he looked into the sky one day and shouted, "I wanna go to Heaven!" His father and I looked at each other, speechless. No, no, our expressions conveyed. Not yet. Get well first and live and then die an old man.

I don't know why he wasn't able to die an old man. I don't know why he didn't even get to learn how to read.

He memorized. He memorized a complete book of jokes. And Maurice Sendak's Nutshell Library collection. "I told you once, I told you twice, all seasons of the year are nice for eating chicken soup with rice." He laughed at Pierre who got eaten by the lion and said, "I don't care." He loved for people to read to him. Curious George Rides a Bike. Are You My Mother? Where the Wild Things Are.

He spat watermelon seeds, built towers with Legos, loved Cocoa Puffs, and gave stickers to the doctors and nurses. "Because," he said, "you give presents to your friends."

After the doctors said there was no more that they could do, I kissed his cheek and whispered to him that he could die. "People tell me to let you go. To let you go. To say good-bye. You can go." The words sounded too harsh; no mother should have to tell her child that he is allowed to die. Quickly, I added, "But not yet. Not yet."

A bald-headed boy in a comatose condition, bloating on a sterile bed was better than no boy.

Each morning when I woke from the bed by his, I was relieved that he was still with us. Today was not the day I would have to deal with death. Not today. Not yet. I talked to him, I told him that I loved him. I told him he could die and I told him not to.

My mother was reading to him from a children's book about a boy who took a star from the sky and tried to keep it in his bed. But the star didn't belong in his bed and began to lose its light. At last, realizing that the star needed to be in the sky once again, the boy let the star sail back up to the heavens. "You can go, too," my mother whispered to Daniel.

Minutes later, our Daniel star left us. After only four years, his body had served its purpose. It was no longer needed. His spirit freely flew, sailing up to Heaven.

No more cancer, no more tears! "There are no tears in Heaven," he'd told me one day. Then he turned and asked me why.

"Jesus is there and there is no sadness when you are face to face with Him," I said.

There are no tears in Heaven, but there are plenty on earth. Especially when I hear Elton John sing Daniel or when somebody mentions Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story. Or when it's just an ordinary Sunday and the choir sings Amazing Grace.

I never thought he'd die. I always clung to healing, to health, to growing up with him, not without him. To more walks in the rain with him in his raincoat. To more times of him running out to greet the ice cream truck with all the change he could gather from the kitchen drawer.

I expected more birthdays, more kisses, more laughter. I wanted to send him off to kindergarten; instead I send kisses to Heaven. I take pictures of sunsets and sunrises, oceans and flowers, plant memorial gardens, and search for butterflies and rainbows. And I see the gap he has left between his older sister Rachel and his younger brother Ben and his sister Liz----the one he never met.

But after Daniel died, I remembered that I'd had a dream about six months into his treatment. He was climbing a ladder and the top of it was shaded by clouds. He was smiling, happy, no tears, no pain. He waved at me and continued to eagerly climb with a surge of energy. The next morning I shared the dream with my mom and my friend; their faces were sullen. What was wrong with them? My dream was a clear indication that Daniel was going to go from being ill to being free. His smile was a sure sign that he was going to be healed from the disease. We would have more of life here together.

Now I know that the dream was showing me that Daniel was climbing up to those clouds and beyond---beyond what I have ever experienced----where those who aren't around us anymore to share jokes live. I had wanted to keep him, hold onto him, I wasn't ready to let my precious star go back to where he came from.

I still want him here. With us. But I imagine Heaven is too wonderful to leave and once you are there, you are the happiest----your most perfect and content self----the way you were meant to be.

I love you, Daniel. I miss your bright blue eyes.

But your star shines bright. Especially tonight on your 21st birthday.

In memory of Daniel Paul Wisler: August 25, 1992 ~ February 2, 1997

Guest post: Parasites!

Today I welcome Lorilyn Roberts, the author of many books and founder of the John 3:16 Network. While this excerpt from her book leaves the reader without knowing what happens, rest assured that Lorilyn's daughter is alive and well today.

I recall having parasites. Actually, I had an amoeba inside me for about six months when I lived and worked as an adult in the Philippines. Ugh. I remember having to drink two containers of a white substance to kill the thing. Very nasty. Inside creatures really wear you out.


Here's an excerpt from Lorilyn's book, Children of Dreams.


The orderly pushed Manisha’s gurney over to the CAT scan room. I had found a pay phone and called my mother.

Her first comment was, “Do you know what day this is?”

I remembered what day it was. September 18th. Four years to the day and almost to the hour, my father had died of a brain tumor. It was about 5:00 p.m. It was too surreal.

She promised to get the first flight out of Atlanta that she could. After the CAT scan had been done I heard the nurse calling for a doctor.

“A doctor will be with you shortly,” she said and walked out. I knew something was wrong and snuck over to look at the scan.

There was something big and glowing. I nearly collapsed from fear, but the nurse returned and chastised me for being there. She quickly escorted me out without answering any of my questions.

Manisha called for me, and I hurried to the CAT scan machine where she was still lying.

“I love you and everything will be okay,” I told her holding back tears. I looked into her eyes wondering what was inside her head that had caused this evil and horrible thing to happen.

I prayed, “Dear, God, please don’t let her die.”

A few minutes later Laura arrived with her husband, Dr. Jay Lynch, an oncologist at Shands. They each gave me a hug. Their presence meant so much because I wasn’t sure I could go it alone. Jay left to discuss with the doctors what was on the scan. Laura handed me some clean, dry clothes and I discarded the ones that were soiled.

My world, as I had known it, had been turned completely on its head. One moment I had a happy, healthy seven year old daughter that I loved more than anything in the world. The next moment, I feared she might die.

A pediatric neurologist had been called in to meet with me and discuss Manisha’s case. Jay had returned.

“I want to do some research on something and I’ll be back a little later,” Jay said.

One of the nurses dripped something into her IV and walked out leaving me alone with her. Suddenly she started itching violently. I ran out of the room trying to grab someone’s attention.

“Please come help my daughter,” I cried. “Something is wrong. Please come now.”

One of the nurses ran in and stopped running the IV.

“What is in the IV?” One of the doctor’s asked.

“Dilantin.”

“She must be allergic to the Dilantin. We’ll have to use something else.”

After that, Manisha settled down and rested more comfortably. I was shaking and scared.

“Please God,” I cried, “Don’t let anything else happen.”

A short while later Dr. Kohrman, a pediatric neurologist, walked in. He was warm and engaging and his demeanor helped to put me at ease. He told me he had looked at the scans and wasn’t sure what was going on.

Dr. Kohrman performed a neurological evaluation on Manisha. About that time Dr. Lynch returned. He and Dr. Kohrman discussed Manisha’s scans in doctor lingo as I sat and listened.

Along with the neurological evaluation, Dr. Kohrman took a medical history. I told him how I had adopted Manisha when she was three from Nepal. She had chronic diarrhea when she arrived and had undergone testing to determine the cause, but nothing definitive ever showed up. It had eventually gone away with good nutrition.

She also had a stool sample with parasites, but they were never able to confirm what was there because the second stool sample was negative.

I came to appreciate how important the medical history was along with a medical examination. Both Dr. Lynch and Dr. Kohrman agreed they weren’t sure what it was, but considering Manisha’s background coming from a third world country, there was a possibility she had something called neurocysticerosis.

Anything that wasn’t cancer had to be a better diagnosis, I thought.

“What is that?” I asked.

Dr. Kohrman explained, “Neurocysticerosis is a parasitic infection of the nervous system. It is caused by the larvae of the tapeworm, Taenia solium, normally found in pork. When the larval cysts travel to the brain, either the invasion of the organism or the death of the organism can cause symptoms, oftentimes seizures.”

“Of course, we must be sure of what we’re dealing with,” he went on. “If it’s a brain tumor, she’ll need surgery. We will need to admit her so we can work her up.”

I had always found uncertainty difficult. To have my child have something serious and not know what it was caused me excruciating pain. Jay took me into a private room away from the bustle of the emergency area and gave me words of encouragement and prayed for Manisha. I was thankful to have a Christian doctor and friend interceding for us.

Children of Dreams is being showcased by the John 3:16 Marketing Network as part of their August Book Launch Event. Be sure to visit http://bit.ly/Christian_Books for a chance to win a Kindle, a $25 gift card and a $10 Starbucks card, as well as purchase Children of Dreams.

Lorilyn Roberts is a Christian author who writes children's picture books, adult nonfiction, memoirs, and a young adult Christian fantasy series, Seventh Dimension.

Lorilyn graduated Magna Cum Laude from the University of Alabama, which included international study in Israel and England. She received her Master of Arts in Creative Writing from Perelandra College and is a graduate of the Institute of Children's Literature.

Lorilyn is the founder of the John 316 Marketing Network, a network of Christian authors who are passionate about promoting books with a Christian worldview.

To learn more about Lorilyn, please visit her website at http://lorilynroberts.com or blog at http://lorilynroberts.blogspot.com. You can follow her on twitter at http://twitter.com/lorilynroberts

Memories Around the Table: Phillip Richardson's Chicken Divan

Marsha Richardson, Phillip's mom, shares with readers here today. She writes, "Attached is a photo of another plate piled high with spaghetti . . . another of Phillip's short list of favorties...again, prompting mom to implore, "Human-sized bites, please!" Thank you Alice, for sharing your touching stories as well as allowing us to share ours. This is truly a healing process! Thanks again."

Chicken Divan
In Memory of: Phillip L. Richardson, III
March 16, 1989-July 17, 2010


1 large bunch of broccoli, steamed
2 cup chicken, cooked
2 cans condensed cream of chicken soup
1 cup mayonnaise
1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
croutons or buttered bread cut into cubes


Arrange broccoli stalks in 9x13 pan. Place chunks of chicken on top. Spread mixture of soup, mayonnaise, and lemon juice on top. Top with cheese and croutons, if desired.


Bake at 350 degrees for 30-45 minutes.


Can be served over rice or noodles.


To say that Phillip was a picky eater was the understatement of the century. He liked what he liked and could eat a ton of it. But if you didn't have what he liked, he would just plain not eat at all. I could always count on him piling his plate high with Chicken Divan---no rice, no croutons, just Chicken Divan. Ironically, the recipe was given to us by our daughter's best friend's mother who undoubtedly grew tired of it being requested every time my daughter walked through her door. It became a family favorite since it was easy and everyone liked it, which meant we could all actually eat together . . . which is priceless when you have teenagers.


I can still see Phillip shoveling his pile of Chicken Divan down with hardly a breath in between bites and me reminding him, “Human-sized bites, son!”


Special thanks to Rae and Bill and Laura Oldham for sharing this great recipe and all of the precious memories that it inspired.


--Phillip's mom, Marsha Maples Richardson

Order a copy of Memories Around the Table today, compiled by Alice J. Wisler!
Click to read rave reviews and order either a print or e-book copy.

Review: God, Me, and Sweet Iced Tea

God, Me, and Sweet Iced Tea is a practical, Bible-based devotional, filled with the everyday experiences of the author, Rose Johnson. Rose takes a subject and expands it with ways the reader can lean upon God, trusting Him and growing to know Him better. The journaling opportunities at the end of each segment mean a lot to me because I am a big advocate for "writing it down". The prayer focus is also a nice addition to each chapter.

When a title has the words Sweet Iced Tea in it, you know that it is going to be more like sitting on a porch and viewing a beautiful garden of roses and azaleas than surviving loss in the muddy trenches. Yet, Rose has had to endure losses such as the loss of a marriage that ended in divorce and the task of single parenting.

Myself a writer of a recent devotional that deals with grief and loss, and as a writer for bereavement articles on sorrow and God's comfort, it is not surprising that one of my favorite devotions from her book is titled He was a man of sorrows acquainted with grief. Rose asks, "Who has not suffered?" Like Rose, I have been through a divorce and have had to parent alone. As a mother, I have had to go through the horrendous ripping apart of my heart when my four-year-old Daniel died from cancer treatments. "Grief can tear at the whole person so fiercely . . . " writes Rose. Yes, it certainly can and does.

Let these chapters in this little book speak to your heart as you discover the mercy and love of God, our Father.

About the Author
Rose Chandler Johnson, a Southern girl from a tiny Georgia town, is the author of the devotional blog, Write Moments with God. In spite of years of disappointments and overwhelming obstacles, she has grown in her relationship with the Lord and learned how to find Him in the everyday moments of life. A devoted Christian and mother of six, she has been a French and English teacher over the last twenty years.

Get your copy of God, Me, and Sweet Iced Tea today!

Candid Thoughts on Heavenly Reunions

It was not the first time someone told me this and I suspect it won't be the last.

Talk about bittersweet.

I suppose I should explain. I'm talking about when people hear that your child died and immediately----I mean without even pausing to take in a breath----say, "You will see him again in Heaven."

Is that supposed to make it all okay?

Tell me, what exactly do these kind folks mean when they toss out that line?

If I were to watch a mother or father crying over the loss of an infant that only breathed for a few moments or a son or daughter who lived to be forty, I would never say that line.

It's a cheap shot. My opinion. To me, it makes it seem as though there is no reason for tears. Or makes it seem that if I had real faith, I wouldn't be sad.

Don't get all ruffled up now. It's not that I don't believe. You see, I do believe in Heaven. I wish more was written about it in The Bible. On many days I wish for just a glimpse. When I'm at the ocean and the breeze blows and the waves dance against the shore, I feel I'm closer to Heaven. Or when I go for a walk and the scents and sights of spring fill my vision, I think, "Ah, this is heavenly."

I believe when people die they go to Heaven. The criminal on the cross next to Jesus was promised he would be with Jesus in paradise. Love is perfect there because the Creator of love, God the Father, lives in Heaven. There is no sin, no sorrow, no tears and no human frailty in this place of eternity.

Yet sometimes I wonder if those who tell me not to worry, that I'll be with my son again in Heaven, are not using their God-given mind to think, to ponder.

Do you really think I am going to be serving animal crackers and reading bedtime stories to my Daniel in Heaven?

There will be reunions, yes. But I will never be Daniel's mama on earth again. Gone is the dream every mother holds and that is to watch her little baby grow up. That ended for me with Daniel's death at age four. When he died, so did my need to buy Cocoa Puffs for him.

I was thirty-six then. I'm fifty-two now. That's been a lot of time for me to wonder and pray and think, and oh, yes, bite my tongue. Especially when well-meaning folk try to cast off my pain by quipping, "We'll just think, you'll see him again in Heaven."

"If Heaven is going to be just like earth where I have to take out the trash, worry about paying bills, and discipline my kids, I don't want it," a mother said to me.

Some seem to think Heaven is an extension of earth. That Heaven to many will be a repeat, only without mosquitoes and a place where consuming a pound of milk chocolate won't make one fat. Many act like it's going to be where I can see my Daniel again as he was on earth. Folks, that little body that took a beating to cancer is gone. It is no more. The Bible promises we'll get new bodies, and I imagine that they won't age. In fact we probably will all look the same age----young and flawless, like the women in all those Oil of Olay commercials.

So before you tell a mother who is sorrowful over the death of her dreams, who is questioning who she is now without her son or daughter, who dreads Christmas because it means one less stocking to fill, who has seen her family diminish in size, and who has a hard time putting one foot in front of the other on most days---even years later----THINK!

There are so many healthy and nurturing ways in which we can comfort each other. Consider them. Instead of giving a pat, "Well, you'll see your child in Heaven," why not sit down, hold a grieving mother's hand, and listen?

You just might cry when you hear her aching heart. Don't you think Jesus would be weeping if He were seated next to her, too?

She knows she'll see her child again in Heaven. Right now she needs more than that reassurance. She has to learn how to live the rest of her life without him. She has to conquer sleepless nights and inappropriate comments, criticism, and push herself to believe that she will get a day free of tears.

Let her know that she is going through the hardest journey a mother ever goes through.

Let love coupled with understanding be how you bring comfort.

~ Alice is the author of five inspirational novels and the new devotional on grief and loss, Getting Out of Bed in the Morning: Reflections of Comfort in Heartache. Read the reviews and order a copy here.

Today's cookbook post: Remembering Stacy and Pistachio-Almond Cake

Today we are featuring another recipe and memory from the new cookbook, Memories Around the Table. Above is a photo of Stacy M. Sullivan Wehr and below is a recipe she loved and a memory associated with it from her mother.

Pistachio-Almond Pudding Cake

Stacy M. Sullivan Wehr
January 14, 1971 ~ April 6, 2000

1 box (2 layer size) yellow cake mix
1 package (4-serving size) Jell-O brand Pistachio instant pudding
4 eggs
1 1/4 cups water
1/4 cup oil
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
7 drops of green food coloring

Note: If you use pudding-included yellow cake mix decrease water to 1 cup.

Combine all ingredients in large mixer bowl, blend, then beat at medium speed of mixer for 4 minutes. Pour into 10-inch fluted tube pan that has been greased and floured or sprayed with cooking oil. Bake at 350⁰ F for 50 to 55 minutes, or until cake pulls away from the sides. Cool for 15 minutes. Remove from pan, and enjoy as much as Stacy did. Any icing of your choice would be good.

^*^*^

I have a picture of Stacy and her son, Ryder, with her last cake. I wish I was still able to bake it for her. She also loved my chili, but I put in it what I wanted, without a recipe. In high school, she would say, “My three favorite things are Mom’s chili, band, and books.” She was like a sponge when it came to reading.

~ Barbara Rasche

Order a copy of Memories Around the Table today! Simply click on this link.

Memories Around the Table: Buttermilk Pie

As we feature our contributors here on this blog, I want to once again thank each person who sent in a recipe and memory for the new cookbook, Memories Around the Table.

Today we are going to remember Randy Bennett and enjoy a recipe for buttermilk pie.

Randy's mom, Teresa, writes: "Here are two pictures of my son Randy. The first one is him with my daughter, Mary. It was taken about three months before his leukemia diagnosis. The second one is him with Mary and myself. It was taken about three months after diagnosis."

Buttermilk Pie

Randy Bennett
February 3, 1980 ~ August 4, 2012


1 1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon flour
3 eggs, beater
3/4 cup margarine, melted
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon vanilla

Mix sugar and flour. Add eggs. Mix well with hand mixer set on medium. Add other ingredients and continue mixing until well incorporated. Pour into unbaked pie shell. Bake at 350⁰ F for one hour.

^*^*^

This was one of Randy's favorite dessert recipes. I usually made it only during the holiday season, but after he was diagnosed with leukemia I decided to make his favorites any time he wanted when he was able to eat. Sharing the things that we "hang on" to for special occasions became a thing of the past. Cherishing each day became our goal. Although he is gone and nothing will ever fill the empty hole in my heart, there are lots of things to remember and smile about. Memories of special times, sharing talks, and a piece of pie bring a tear to my eye and a smile to my heart.

~ Teresa Peiffer

Like Teresa and so many who have lost a loved one, we do learn to cherish the beauty of each day.

Order your copy of Memories Around the Table now! Simply click on this link.

Memories Around the Table: Boiled Custard

Caroline Raby is a contributor to the new cookbook Memories Around the Table. She has a recipe in the book for boiled custard which is truly delicious. In the recipe, both her grandmother and great-grandmother are included. Below is a photo of her great-grandma, Lucy Doles.

1918 Photo of Lucy Doles Whitehead of Scotlant Neck, NC

One of our family favorites was my maternal great-grandmother's boiled custard. It was easy to make and immensely enjoyable.

My grandmother would make it when my sister and I were sick with sore throats or other childhood illnesses, and it was a traditional part of the Christmas trifle, known as "tipsy cake”, also including cake, roasted almonds, whipped cream, and spirits. (The children's portions always had orange juice.)

Boiled custard chilled was relished on hot summer days, and when warmed, enjoyed on cold, blustery ones. It was also enjoyed when shared with my parents’ friends and neighbors.

~ Caroline Raby

And here's the recipe for you to try.

Boiled Custard

Lila W. McDaniel
September 2, 1888 ~ January 8, 1978

3 eggs, well beaten
1 quart whole milk
1/2 cup sugar
3 large serving spoons of flour added to sugar
Pinch salt
1 teaspoon vanilla

Pour milk into a deep stew pan. Set the pan in an iron frying pan containing boiling water (serving as a double boiler). Let the milk warm until small bubbles form along the sides. While the milk is heating, beat the eggs and slowly add the sugar/flour mix stirring until the mixture is thickened. Pour the egg mixture into the hot milk and constantly stir with a wooden spoon (essential—a metal spoon won't work) until the custard coats the spoon and drops off. Remove custard from the heat, add the vanilla and stir until mixed. Chill and then pour into a large pitcher, cover, and refrigerate. Serves 4-6. Can be poured over vanilla ice cream, strawberries, or cake.



Get a copy of Memories Around the Table today! It's available on Kindle and in print. Click here to read about how to place your order.

Everybody needs a place to share

People Need a Place to Share and Remember


I wanted to give people an opportunity. People need a place where memories are freely shared and abound.

When I started out with the making of my first memorial cookbook, Slices of Sunlight, I had an urgency to get the book out there. My four-year-old son Daniel had been gone just two years, and as a writer, it was important to me to have his name printed in a book. I knew other parents would welcome the opportunity to tell their son’s or daughter’s story about a food-related experience. Other parents, like me, had to deal with that empty chair at mealtimes—the space their child once occupied, back when life was not filled with sorrow. Why not give them a platform?

I sent out many email messages to bereaved parents’ groups. I told those in my Compassionate Friends chapter that I was putting together a book of favorite recipes and memories and gave them a short tutorial on how to write a food memory.

What was fascinating to me was the feedback I received, and not just the delicious recipes coupled with remembrances. People I had never met found out about the project and wrote to say things like, “Writing the recipe and memory was therapeutic for me.” “I loved having the time to recall. Thank you.” “I remembered and I cried; it brought back many good memories.”

My husband Carl is the one to thank for Memories Around the Table, my third and most recent book. He had not been in my life when the first two came out. I considered another book but wasn’t sure I wanted to dedicate the time or money, and I wasn’t certain that another memorial cookbook was needed.

“Let this one be a book with the recipes and memories of all loved ones, not just those of children,” he suggested. (I have a hunch it’s because he wanted to include a cake recipe he loves to make, known as Mom’s Cake, in the book.)

It was in Atlanta when I was invited to speak at a CURE weekend conference that I announced to a group of bereaved parents that I would do another cookbook. Once I told them about it, I knew I had to be committed to the project. I worked on getting the word out. I created a special email account where folks could send their recipes so I would have an in box dedicated to the “cookbook only” email messages. Which printer to use? Which cover? Should there be art inside? So many decisions.

When you compile a cookbook there are profound blessings along the way. First there are these priceless stories. I cried over many. The gratitude of those who submit recipes and memories are so dear. Then there is that action that many want to run from: editing. Editing to make the prose shine without taking away the essence of what the contributor supplied in the form of a memory and recipe—now that takes time.

The end result is a not just a mere book, but a legacy where love and the love of food live on. A tribute to those who once graced our tables, a reason for a contributor to take the time to write and say, "What a lovely little book. I was quite moved by the memories of loved ones and the way that the sharing of their recipes provided a way to share those memories and honor their lives. You did a very good job with this. I do thank you for doing all the work of putting this together and for including me. It is all so positive and healing."

Memories Around the Table is an invitation to all to come join us at the table, to remember and to continue to tell the stories that shape who we are.

You might want to bring a tissue.


Order your copy of Memories Around the Table (Daniel’s House Publications) by clicking this link.

~ Alice J. Wisler is a freelance writer and the author of five inspirational Southern novels, a grief and loss devotional (Getting Out of Bed in the Morning, a top seller on Kindle), and three independently-published cookbooks. She teaches grief-writing workshops across the country. Learn more at her website: http://www.alicewisler.com

(This article was first and originally posted at Julie Saffrin's blog)

Guest Blogger Rose Chandler Johnson!

Today I welcome Rose Chandler Johnson to my Patchwork Quilt blog. Rose's new book, God, Me, and Sweet Iced Tea has just been released from Lighthouse of the Carolinas.

Rose, good to have you here! I have a few questions for you today. What inspired you to write your devotional?

Rose: I was writing every day in a spiral notebook. After a while I had written so much, I thought to myself, "Hey, I could turn these into devotions." So, that is what I did. I wrote one or two per week, every week for a year. After a year, I chose from them to compile the devotional. I transformed it into a journal because like yourself I’ve always journaled and I’ve experienced its benefits. I’ve used it with students as well. I think the journal component makes it more memorable and allows readers an opportunity to go deeper and apply their faith.

Alice: Who do you want to reach with your book? Which audience?

Rose: This devotional is uniquely appropriate for working mothers, but also for anyone who wants to put their Christianity into practice in their everyday moments.

Alice: What is your favorite kind of iced tea? Flavored? With sugar or without? Do you make iced tea?

Rose: Yes, I make tea every day at home. I drink at least two quarts of sweetened iced tea daily, and I use only a half cup of sugar in that. I like tea so much, I can’t really say I have a favorite. The brand I’m using at home the most is Luzianne. I prefer it with a slice of lemon.

Alice: Can you share an excerpt from your book with us here?

Rose: Yes, and thank you for asking.

A Life of Service

"For whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it" Matthew 16:25 (KJV).

Well I remember the time, some twenty or so years ago, when my little children revolved around me like the planets circle the sun. I felt like I was holding them all in place, but God was holding us all. He was ever present.

One especially exhausting day, as I was changing a diaper, and hurriedly juggling many tasks, I said aloud in exasperation, "I don’t have a life!" Without hesitation, in an instant, the Lord responded emphatically to my words. In my spirit, I heard, "No, you don’t have a life. Didn’t I tell you that whoever will save his life shall lose it, and whoever will lose his life for My sake shall find it?" These words came directly to me, personal and real—interjected into my train of thought by a voice of authority.

At that moment, I knew the Lord had spoken to me. I realized I was doing exactly what the Lord wanted me to do; I was taking care of the needs of my family. My service to them was not an obligation, but a holy calling, a vocation to serve the needs of those in my care. Jesus became a “servant to all” taking on the "form of a servant" in his earthly life. His service was love in action. His selfless love, for our redemption and God’s glory, is a model for all believers. It is with this same spirit of service that we can dedicate our lives to His service, and by so doing, we are strengthened to give of ourselves to others, in our families and beyond, as we go about our everyday lives.

Alice: Rose, where can we find you online?

Rose: Twitter: @rechanjo
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rose.c.johnson
Blog: Write Moments with God; http://www.writemomentswithgod.blogspot.com

Thanks, Rose! Readers, be sure to get a copy of God, Me, and Sweet Iced Tea: Experiencing God in the Midst of Everyday Moments! And leave a comment below to encourage Rose as she embarks on her newly-published journey.

Available from Amazon.

Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher.

Sometimes . . .

. . . things don't go the way they were planned!

When Dan and Betty Bryl received their cookbooks, I imagined that they were excited to see their daughter's inclusion. But when they opened their copies, they looked at each other and said, "What happened?" Then they emailed me.

"Where's the recipe? We got the memory, but where's the recipe?"

Uh-oh . . . Had there been a recipe, too? My stomach sunk to my knees. Where?

Eventually we figured it out. The first email Dan sent had two attachments---one for the recipe and one for the memory--but the corrected email only held the memory because that was all they had needed to correct. I got the email message that said it was the final one and didn't feel that I needed to read the first two. I ran with the one that said it was the corrected version. It only held the memory atttachment and I thought that was all she wrote. I deleted the other two so as not to confuse myself and sent the corrected one to where I stored the material for Memories Around the Table. And that, my friends is why only the memory ended up in the cookbook.

These things happen.

Well, I knew there was a way to remedy this. Here it is! Below is the recipe that goes with the memory for Jell-O. Jessica, I sure hope your parents will love me again!


Seven-Layer Jell-O

Not an easy recipe but worth the effort!

1 small box of each: cherry, orange, lemon, and lime Jell-O
2 packages plain Knox gelatin
1 pint sour cream
2 cups whole milk
1 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Dissolve each Jell-O package in 1 cup HOT water then add 1/2 cup cold water (keep each flavor separate).

Bring to BOIL in sauce pan the milk and sugar, stirring constantly. Dissolve 2 packages of Knox in 1/2 cup COLD water, then add to milk mixture. Cool slightly (off burner), then add sour cream and vanilla. Blend with electric mixer at low speed.

In 13 X 9 glass pan, pour in first layer of Jell-O. When this is set, pour 1 1/2 cups of milk mixture on top very slowly so as not to break layer. Continue process, making sure each layer is set. If you put in the refrigerator, it takes at least 45 minutes for first layer to become set.

TIP 1: Chill glass pan before pouring first layer. Each layer will go a bit faster because of the chill. You can speed up by putting in the reezer, but you have to be very careful not to FREEZE! You must watch and pull before ice crystals form. Then put in fridge to finish chill. Be very careful!

TIP 2: You can make all the Jell-O at once and leave at room temperature. The milk mixture should be kept in a pan of hot water so it won’t thicken, but make sure to cool some before pouring layer. Pour first layer to chill before making milk mixture, but be sure to cool some before pouring on set Jell-O layer.

TIP 3: Layer for the Holidays. We put cherry and lime as top two layers for Christmas, and orange for Halloween. You can try other flavors, but we have found that these were the most complementary to each other.

Need a copy of Memories Around the Table so that you can read the memory that goes with this recipe as well as dozens of other recipes and memories? Order from here.