Whenever I come back from being away from home, (whether it's hours or days doesn't matter) Cassie has to give me the one over with her nose, gathering up all the scents from where I've been. Usually it's a quick sniff because I haven't been gone too long. And of course anything that comes in the house with me needs to be sniffed out as well. Sometimes I'll take an old toy with me and put it in my purse so she can sniff it out and be reunited with an old friend.

She'll be doing her sniffing routine and suddenly smell something that she knows, without a doubt, belongs to her. There's such joy for her those moments. She races to her rug with little yips of excitment and then waits, tail wagging like crazy, for me to give her the toy. Once she has it, whatever it is, she runs off to the library to toss it in the air a few times then pounce on it, pinning it to the ground with her paws.

I have something that belongs to her and she wants it back. She doesn't wonder if it is hers. She KNOWS. And once she has that toy back she gives it all of her attention, lavishes it with loving enthusiasm and then, once that reconnection is confirmed, she gives a loud sigh of contentment, dropping her head to the floor to rest upon the toy.

I just got home from a few days away at an informal writing retreat with a group of woman that have had a tremendous impact on my life. Some of that impact was apparent right away. Other pieces will make themselves known over time. And that's as it should be. Not all gold is mined from veins close to the surface. Sometimes you have to put in the effort to dig it out.

When I came home I had a plush toy waiting to be "reunited" with Cassie. I tucked in the pocket of my sweatshirt before I got out of the car. My husband let Cassie out front to meet me and she did her normal Cassie inspection, sniffing me up and down and all around. Then suddenly, she found the toy in my pocket. When I told her she could have it she gently tugged it free and then carried it back toward the house, her tail held high with pride, as if she had just scored a great kill in the forest.

And I guess she had.

By the time I got into the house she was contentedly resting in the library, one paw over the stuffed toy, the other tucked under her chin. She raised her head as I came in the room and then, in that way that big dogs do, she smiled her thanks to me.

Over the years, pieces of me have gone missing. Confidence has faded around the edges of my dreams. Chunks of self-esteem have been lost on the road to survival. My sense of self has been buried under a mountain of "would-ofs," "could-ofs," and "should-ofs."

I want these pieces of myself back.

But I can't expect to pull them out of my pocket unless I promise that I will accept these pieces of me, (however battered they might be,) with joy, that I will lavish them with love and kindness, that I will believe again, in my right to claim what's mine.

I want to smooth the jagged edges and polish them until they shine. That's where the real joy comes from - taking something not so pretty and believing in it enough that suddenly, it transforms right before your eyes, into a thing of beauty.

When we last left off, we were in Philadelphia. Home of the Liberty Bell and this creeeeepy/cool place that my friend Carla told me about.

However, Peepy and stayed away from creepy stuff and instead hung out with the cool kids. That's cause the place was packed full o' authors! Here are just a some that we ran into/stalked on the floor of the NCTE Convention.

Caldecottian David Wiesner, Baby Mouse's (Mice?) Jenny and Matt Holm(s), plus gadfly David Lubar . . .

(If it looks like David's trying to strangle Peepy, he is. They had a disagreement over apples and oranges.)

While Peeps recovered from her David Lubar encounter, and BTW David, she says you should watch your back and other body parts, we ran into the talented Mr. Greg Neri and also Literature Affectionado/Soon-to-Be-Author Monica Edinger, New York Times Bestselling gal Maggie Stiefvater, multiple award winner Kathryn Lasky and that always awesome Lunch Lady-esque couple, Gina and Jarrett Krosoczka . . .

,

Then Peeps and Moi attended the NCTE Books for Children Luncheon. Everyone at our table got a copy of BOBBY VS. GIRLS (ACCIDENTALLY) . . .


After, it was time for our booksigning. We were thrilled to run into our editor Cheryl Klein, and later we went out to eat (yes, again) . . .


Soon it was time for our rousing Blogging Panel with the gals, Maureen Johnson, Barbara O'Connor, Laurie Halse Anderson, and Justine Larbalestier . . .


(That's Justine on the left)

Next, food again! (Oink.) The M.R. Robinson Reception and Dinner, was hosted by Scholastic head honcho Dick Robinson. It was a wonderful Thanksgiving feast for almost 800 guests. Peeps was convinced the dinner was in her honor. However, that's not totally true. This NCTE Thanksgiving tradition has been going on for several decades . . .


Then, to cap off an incredible day, I got to finally meet the amazing Sara Zarr in person!!! We've been corresponding for YEARS, but have never been face-to-face before. I even named a character after Sara . . .


NEXT BLOG: More NCTE Convention. Plus . . . what famous authors are attached to these boots/shoes????

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So I finally got off my butt and did something productive today. I made this bubble gum machine necklace. And I'm REALLY proud of it. :)


Ain't it just sweet?

More pics under the cut
( Gum Balls )

What would you make your mother for Christmas if you had 1 yard of fabric that you picked out because it reminded you of her?

ETA: You guys have so many great ideas! Thank you!

been a while since I posted anything steampunk inspired so I thought I would post a few of my new pieces. The first four are Steampunk bugs that I made out of paperclay. On the back I added a pin back so that they can be worn on a shirt or jacket but I also left the antenna with loops at the end so that jump rings could be added to the end and they could be worn as pendants. Each one is made by pressing watch parts into the clay then latter painting them, some parts of the bugs are sealed in a glossy finish and some are in a matte finish.


( Read more... )

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I'm knitting this shape to become a super simple dress for my baby daughter. I figure two of those rectangles (with garter stitch at the neck/arm holes) stitched together, maybe with some cross-stitching added later could be made pretty cute.

Anyway, I want to add some increases to make it wider toward the bottom to accommodate for her fluffy bum. Where should they go? I was thinking they could start at the bottom of the garter stitching for the arm holes, but should I add them in the middle? On the sides? What's going to look okay?

('m a new knitter, and have mastered knitting/purling/increasing/decreasing and know what to do to get what I want, but having only made up my own crochet patterns I'm not quite sure with knitting.)

My son was bar mitzvahed on Saturday. To prepare, he's been in Sunday school since first grade and Hebrew school since third grade, and has studied every night at home for the last six months. It all paid off. He did a great job reading Hebrew from the Torah and saying the prayers and leading the temple service. I'm so proud of him!

We had a fun lunch party Saturday and got to see lots of friends and relatives. We also had a dinner party that night and a brunch party the next day. I now plan on vegging out for awhile-- probably for about two years, until it's time to plan my other son's bar mitzvah. Oy.

Chapter 2

“Pam’s awake!”

My pupils must’ve shrank to the size of ticks as the overhead lights pierced my lenses. “Uh, hi?” I managed.

“Hi? Hi? That’s all you can say after scaring me so bad I almost peed my pants?” Rita said, wrapping her fingers around my wrist.

The faces of my three friends came into focus a few inches above my face. I tried to sink deeper into the limp couch cushions. A spring dug into my shoulder blade. The girls must’ve moved me there after I…oh yeah. After I screamed. After the Water Wraith grabbed me. Shit.

“Back up, guys,” Karyn said. “Let her breathe.”

Shelly was close enough that I could see her pink cheeks beneath her freckles. “What the hell happened out there?”

I struggled to get vertical, hoping I wouldn’t have to answer. No such luck. In sitting position, six eyes stared at me. What could I say that wouldn’t make me certifiable? “My doctor,” I started, “he, uh, he says it’s post traumatic stress disorder.” It was true, he did say that, and it could’ve been a partial explanation. Except in order for something to be post traumatic, the trauma had to be over.

“I thought you hadda be a war veteran or something to get that,” Rita said, leaning with her quads against the back of the couch and her arms crossed over her chest. She’d had her own post traumatic reaction to my accident last year, namely the realization of her mortality. She tried to cover it up with extra snippiness.

I tousled my hair, damp with sweat for the second time that afternoon.

“So how do you fix it?” Shell asked. She was always the one with an action plan, the one certain she could make things better.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. If I had an answer to how to get the Water Wraith to stop attempting to reclaim me, to stop trying to take my life again, I’d be on it like wet on water.

Shell lay on her back on the worn beige carpet. “Are you gonna keep going to counseling and stuff?” she asked.

I nodded and felt bad. Guilty. Shelly really wanted to help but there was no way she could. She couldn’t see, feel, or hear the things in the water that I could. I was surrounded by my friends and completely alone.

###

This is a Key Lime Pie.



Note that the color is a creamy yellow. This is a real Key Lime Pie, made with real key lime juice. If someone tries to hand you a slab of something green and they try to tell you it's Key Lime Pie...

THEY LIE


That is all.

It's almost time for ornament making!!! Here are a few I did last year


( more under here!!! )

http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/go_fug_yourself/2009/11/unfug_it_up_ashley_greene112409.html

Rumor has it Ashley Greene loves her some stripes:



She also, it seems, loves her some ill-fitting pants. Honey, when the waistband is strained thusly, it's in your best interest to have A Clothing Professional nip over and move the inside button just a wee. Or put a belt over it. Or untuck your shirt. I myself have a waist that is a bit wide in proportion to the rest of me, so I know the deep pain that occurs when your ass needs one size, and your waist could use a bit of breathing room. We have tricks! Learn them, my pet!

I shall speak not of the crotch issues.

But let us all speak of how to fix this thing, shall we? (If, in fact, it needs fixing, in your opinion.) Me? I'd set those pants on fire and put her in jeans. Wouldn't that be cute? Put on your Rachel Zoe caftans and fur vests and please style Little Miss Twilight beautiful:

http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/go_fug_yourself/2009/11/freaky_fug_tuesday112409.html

Wow, it was a close vote this week -- if you haven't been going to the poll, you should, because it was TIGHT. The lead changed about three times, with three different entries, but in the end BrokeHedonist won the day with an entry to the tune of "The Dreidel Song." Enjoy:


[Photo: Splash News]

"You had a little yorkie;

A hat was on his head,
Which, though made him look dorky,
Matched your Nice n' Easy red.

Just take the early 90's,
Ad Go-Go, and in swirl,
Dionne from "Clueless"; garnish
with an Austin Powers girl.

Gold boots, belt, dog, and sequins,
With doilies on your thighs,
Can't hope to overpower
All the crazy in your eyes.

Oh, Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe
In trompe l'oeil brocade,
You wouldn't even notice
If it rained on your parade."

-- By BrokeHedonist

Thanks again -- these entries have been so consistently good, I'm actually sad that we're not going to do one this week. I know, I know, BOO. But it's Thanksgiving here in the U.S. of A., and we both have family coming into town and wine to drink and turkeys to cook and vegetables to consider serving and then dismiss if they're not in the "potato" family and there are babies and mothers and SO MUCH FOOTBALL and, well, we really don't take that many holiday weekends, so we're seizing this one. But look for another Freaky Fug Friday contest on Friday, December 4. If you haven't been entering, why not? Give it a whirl ! You can do it as many times as you like, and we have nothing but love for all the stuff people have been writing. Can't wait for another go-round.

A local father was taking his son to preschool. As they were getting off the computer train, the three year old pushed a button for the handicapped exit - and the doors closed before the father could get out. A young woman on the platform tried to open the doors, but the train slid away.

And it was nearly 10 minutes before the poor dad could get back to his son.

You can read the original story here.

And you can read it from the “guardian angel’s perspective” here.

If the man had come back to an empty platform, that could have been the beginning of a great mystery novel. But I’m glad real life worked out the way it did.

http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/go_fug_yourself/2009/11/fug_romance112409.html

Yes, this is very attractive:


[Photo: Splash News]

As I said to the helpful member of Fug Nation who directed me to this photo, I actually kind of want this jacket. I plan to wear it on long flights to facilitate napping. It's at least as attractive as one of those pillows that you sling around your neck, and it will get a much more amusing reaction from your seatmates. Can you imagine slithering into the middle seat in economy on a full plane wearing this? People's faces would provide in-flight entertainment for at least forty-five minutes, and then you could drift off, your face comfortably cradled by the warm embrace of your freakishly gigantic shoulder pad. Bliss.

I'm sorry that suricattus had a crappy phone call that put her in a vile mood, but I'm so glad she was cheered by this and better still, that she posted it for the rest of us.

I'm not sure who amuses me more- Animal or Beaker.

gaelbrady & ladystarblade make sure you watch this!

http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/go_fug_yourself/2009/11/rated_fug112409.html

I admit, I am dying to know what RiRi is talking about here:



Perhaps the amount of gin she had to give Liza With a Z before Ms Minnelli allowed her to raid her closet in order to borrow this particular ensemble?

... thank you for reaching for and wanting to grab right away the cool books on display (possible vacation reading picks!),
and for recognizing the Newbery Medal on the front of our brand new copy of From the mixed up files of mrs. basil e. frankweiler,
and for telling me to not skip the letter to Saxonberg at the beginning, because it's important,
and for spreading out and listening
really listening, no talking
(which is nearly a miracle with your class)
as I read most of the first chapter
and for asking, do you have any more copies? that's a really good book!,
and for figuring out a fair way to decide who got to take the World Records Book.

you're growing up, fifth graders.

I'm working on the material for my author site, and I can't help but notice that whenever I start to work on my bio, I'll end up deciding to close the document and go on to something more fun. Like scrubbing the toilet bowl or writing synopses.

I'm not a total wuss. I can write a short bio, no problem. But it's one thing to write a few sentences for a conference presentation or the back of your book. It's another thing to write several paragraphs for your website, for people who presumably care enough to delve deeper. Not trying to put myself down but, well, outside of writing books I haven't achieved anything all that interesting. In my view, most people haven't. And that's okay, for them, because they don't have to write big long bios about it.

"Middle class American Pxoebe Kxtaxixis took the path of least resistance, graduating from an impressive college and lining up a series of jobs..." Who cares? Chill, it's not a freaking resume, says the reasonable voice inside my head. They don't care about your "achievements."(NO one does.) Readers just want to get to know you a little. Oh. Really? Well, but I'm very boring. And secretive. And... complicated. Okay, says the voice, weary now. You are being a total prima donna and I don't even want to deal with you. I leave you to your neuroses for the day. NO! Please, not the whole day! Okay, maybe just the morning. Thank you.

So... my insanity aside... it's new perspective time. If I were a reader and I liked somebody's book enough to click on their site's bio, I sure wouldn't want to see their high school report card there or a list of awards. Or a sweet little note from their Mom saying they were always the best-behaved kid ever. I'd want a little insight, a little dirt. I'd want to know the truth about how totally weird my favorite writers were, weird like me. Human like me. I'd want to skim past the dull stuff that everybody thinks they're supposed to talk about in bios and only include the stuff that makes them unique. Like that I always considered myself left handed until a couple years ago when I realized I could write with my right perfectly well too. Or that I'm best friends with my ex. Or that every two years I drastically change my hair color. Or that English isn't my first language, and as a child I always spent the summer in a small country, getting unrecognizably tan and fielding the same impossible question from hundreds of relatives: "So, which country do you love more, here or there?" What makes me the only person who could have written WHISPER? What makes you the only person who could write your book. That's what I'm going to write in my bio!

As soon as I empty the dishwasher. And fill it again.

http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/go_fug_yourself/2009/11/fug_or_fab_or_unfug_natalie_portman112409.html

The only thing I am totally sure about in the below photograph: Natalie Portman has great legs. Okay, and shoulders. The TWO things I'm sure about are the legs and shoulders. And she has great skin. Three. THREE things I'm sure about are legs, shoulders, and skin. And no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.


[Photo: WENN.com]

The rest is up in the air. Part me thinks this is adorable -- sweet, frilly, Smurfy in all the right ways -- and part of me wonders if having an accessory in nearly every color of the rainbow means Roy G. Biv is her new stylist.

Whew!

I spent yesterday snoring on the couch, recovering from the wonderful, high-energy weekend at the National Council of English Teachers Annual Conference. Thank you, thank you to everyone who stood in the long lines and who shared their stories of the impact my books have had on their students. You guys made me cry more than once - happy tears. Those stories humbled and honored me.

I am still fairly wiped out from the whole shebang, so let me pull my photos out of my back pocket and share them.

Here is Davis Macinnis Gill and I recreating our photo from last year. In last year's acceptance speech and this year's keynote address, I referenced The Scarlet Letter.

I ordered a Scarlet Letter shirt from Novel-t.com for the occasion.

Melinda Campbell from Tuczon, AZ had her students create a tree of students reactions to SPEAK, and she brought it all the way to Philly to share with me.

I did not take a picture from the podium of the 600+ people who listened to me at the ALAN breakfast because I was too nervous. Thank you for not laughing at my poem!

I went hunting for my friends on the convention floor before my signing. Here is Jerry Spinelli with editor Alvina Ling.

My buddy Kate Messner was there!

Sharon Draper!!

Wimpy Kid author Jeff Kinney.

I spoke on the panel about author blogging with Justine Larbalestier, Maureen Johnson, Lisa Yee, and Barbara O'Conner. It was a fantastic panel!! I raised a point for all teachers to contemplate: Should we continue to spend classroom time on letter writing or has the time come to teach children how to compose appropriate email communication? What do you think?

I was honored to meet Risha Mullins, the KY teacher who has had books (including TWISTED) pulled from her classroom by her district superintendent and NOT returned, even though the review committee approved them. Risha received oodles of support from her fellow teachers. I am sure there will be more details soon about the progress of this challenge.

Along with all the speechifying and booksignings and panel and friend-stalking, I had three bookstore events in the Philly area with other authors. Here is the crowd that came out to the Doylestown Bookshop to hear Jay Asher, Lauren Myracle, and me. Actually, the crowd was about three times as many people as you can see here - my phone couldn't get everyone in one pic.

On Sunday morning, Sarah Dessen and I had breakfast with 100 fans at Chester County Book & Music Company. Here we are with the members of a writer's group, The First Novels Club, who followed us to the enormous, weekend ending last event:

It was an epic signing at Children's Book World In Haverford, PA with T.A. Barron, Sarah Dessen, Steve Kluger, Justine Larbalestier, David Levithan, Lauren Myracle, Scott Westerfeld & Jacqueline Woodson. And me.

Yeah - it was a whirlwind. Exhausting. And wonderful and fun and energizing!

I have loved teaching the creative nonfiction workshop at UAB with Dinty W. Moore's text called THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER. These essays came out of the creative nonfiction workshop. The opinion editor, Joey Kennedy, at the Birmingham News selected these essays for publication. They ran on Sunday in time for the IRON BOWL, which is the big game played in Birmingham between Auburn and Alabama coming up this Saturday. The first essay is by Donna Thomas, who raised three children and worked for 30 years at the phone company before retiring to focus on her writing. The second is by Doug Dutton, of Birmingham (not Los Angeles) and he worked at Southern Power for years before focusing on his writing. They both share such a history of Birmingham.

Congratulations to Donna and to Doug!

VIEWPOINTS: Sports celebrityhood hits home

Donna Thomas

http://blog.al.com/birmingham-news-commentary/2009/11/sports_celebrityhood_hits_home.html

VIEWPOINTS: Game brings brush with 'Bear'

Doug Dutton

http://blog.al.com/birmingham-news-commentary/2009/11/game_brings_brush_with_bear.html

Hi :)

I'm looking for a cute and simple apron pattern, maybe something a bit vintage. Or tutorials, I looked in the memories with no luck.
Thanks a lot!!! :)

http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/go_fug_yourself/2009/11/ama_fug_carpet_bobby_trendy112409.html

Poor Bobby Trendy. He beat Gaga to the joke by several years, but because he wears pants and doesn't try to do anything, nobody cared. So now we just look at photos like this...



.. and think, "Oh, please, honey. Gaga SLEEPS in that stuff."

Personally, I think he shouldn't stand for it. I vote for a slapfight. Gaga versus Trendy, winner take all, loser has to spend a year wearing jeans and a t-shirt that says "I *heart* Kitson." Save me a front-row seat.

http://gofugyourself.celebuzz.com/go_fug_yourself/2009/11/hola_world112409.html

"Hola, world! Mira, we must talk. The rumors are true: I fell during this performance. I fell hard. Mis nalgas are bluer this morning than the uniforms of those Miami Dolphins who are so awesome and who we own part of now! But do you know why I fell, amigos? You don't think it was an ACCIDENT, do you? I mean come on:



"Nobody lets Mr. Love Buckle throw them around unless they EXPECT to fall. (Someone also once told me never to put Mr. Love Buckle in the corner, but you know what? I did, and it was FINE, once he stopped crying and doing the merengue and telling me his name was Frances.) I knew what was going to happen, mi gente. I WANTED to fall. Why? To teach you a lesson. Do you see me up here, in my flowery bloomers and tights and my clothes and shoes like I am the foxiest boxer in a private league owned by Siegfried and Roy (and my Marc, because he is so very sporty now, with his buying part of the Dolphins, who throw around the ball)? Well, see, Mr. Love Buckle and his friend, Hunchy Shorts, represent the mountain of fabulousness that I climb every day. It is the height of perfection, amigos. But some people, they climb this mountain without hooks and ropes and sherpas and Love Buckles and Eddie Bauer tents and helicopters and elevators and personal chefs. And so sometimes, people who are not me? They fall.  And so I wanted to SHOW them that you can get back up and DANCE, amores. You see, it was all for you. Because I am Jennifer Lopez, and I love you, and I suffer for you, like Jesus but with a better ass... Ay, Mr. Christ, I am kidding! HA HA HA! You are mighty. Who is your trainer? Pssst, don't use Ben Assfleck's. He has the abs of an inflatable boat. HA HA HA HA! Call me.

Te adoro,
J

http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/nWvm/~3/vTinJVHpQXk/hanging-gale.html

The Hanging Gale. 1995 BBC Northern Ireland. DVD 2006, Acorn Media. Via Netflix.

The Plot: 1846, County Donegal, Ireland. The Phelan family struggle against the Irish Famine and the English policies and politics that turned a potato blight into deaths of one million men, women and children.

The Good: OH MY GOODNESS. This miniseries was so, so good; and not just the acting, which was great. When I saw this was made in 1995, I was surprised because it didn't look old. The production, the cinematography, the clothes, the hair -- none of it feels dated (and we've all seen the historical television shows and films that are terribly dated).

How much did I like The Hanging Gale? I went looking for fanfiction. For some of you, that is all that needs to be said.

Two of the Phelan sons are farmers; one a priest; one a teacher. This covers various bases and points of view; and the Phelan brothers are played by four brothers. the McGanns. Who, to be hopelessly shallow for a moment, are all quite good looking.

As things go from bad and worse, the question isn't whether someone will die, but rather when and how. Emigration (forced or voluntary) is also a possibility. Obviously, someone has to survive -- people did. But the Phelans are farmers, those whose lives were entirely dependent on the potato crop. The repercussions of the crop failure and English reaction (and inaction) is played out over four heartbreaking episodes as the Phelans lose the little they have.

One of my pet peeves about American fiction about the Famine is that the book always ends with the family leaving Ireland for the promised land of the United States. So I was very interested in watching a production that was without American involvement and bias. This is a BBC Northern Ireland production, with the acting brothers (Paul, Stephan, Joe and Mark McGann) from Liverpool; Stephan and Joe are the ones who originated the idea, so I went in hoping that this wouldn't end with the "happy ending" of US emigration.

In The Hanging Gale, by the time emigration happens, it is shown as being far from happy, but just a cheaper way than the poorhouse for English landlords to get the empty land they want. Those who left didn't go seeking something better; they were leaving. The ending ... this is not an American miniseries. The ending proves that.

I went in knowing about the Irish Famine; when I began searching via Google for additional information about this miniseries, the most shocking comment to me was people saying they didn't know about the Famine until they watched this miniseries. I also knew that 1847 is considered the worst year of the Famine, so that the bad times at the beginning were only going to get worse.

Want happy? Want feel good? Go elsewhere.

Want a gripping historical drama that manages to convey actual historical information while being historically accurate* and is also, quite simply, a great film with good acting and plotting? Watch this. And wonder why there isn't more out there about the deaths of a million people.




*I am not a historian and do not play one on this blog. My assessment of the accuracy is based solely on my armchair reading; and realizing that some things had to be tinkered with, such as language, etc.

Photo from BBC Northern Ireland.

Amazon Affiliate. If you click from here to Amazon and buy something, I receive a percentage of the purchase price.

© Elizabeth Burns of A Chair, A Fireplace & A Tea Cozy

and here is the list from Bonnie Kunzel from the ALAN session.

GENREBLENDING FOR NCTE/ALAN 2009

MYSTERIOUS FANTASY

Funke, Cornelia. The Thief Lord.

Fforde, Jasper. Thursday Next: The Eyre Affair. Lost in a Good Book. The Well of
Lost Plots. Something Rotten. First Among Sequels.
Nursery Crime: The Big Over Easy. The Fourth Bear.

Pierce, Tamora. Beka Cooper: Terrier: A Tortall Legend. Bloodhound.

Vande Velde, Vivian. Never Trust a Dead Man.

ROMANTIC FANTASY

Bunce, Elizabeth C. A Curse Dark As Gold.

Cashore, Kristin. Graceling. Prequel: Fire.

Marillier, Juliet. Wildwood Dancing.

Meyer, Stephenie. Twilight Saga: Twilight. New Moon. Eclipse. Breaking Dawn.
Klause, Annette Curtis. The Silver Kiss. Blood and Chocolate.

TIME TRAVEL ROMANCE

Cooney, Caroline B. The Time Travelers Quartet: Both Sides of Time. Out of Time. Prisoner of Time. For All Time.

Harrison, Mette Ivie. The Princess and the Hound. The Princess and the Bear.

Hubbard, Mandy. Prada & Prejudice.

Mangum, Lisa. The Hourglass Door.

DARK FANTASY

Gaiman, Neil. Coraline. The Graveyard Book.

Jinks, Catherine. The Reformed Vampire Support Group.

Marr, Melissa. Wicked Lovely. Ink Exchange. Fragile Eternity.

Werlin, Nancy. Impossible: A Novel.

Here is Mary Arnold's bibliography to go along with the Power Point posted earlier.

ALAN 2009

Many Formats Make Great Reading

Verse Novels

All the Broken Pieces. Ann E. Burg. Scholastic Press. 2009
Becoming Billie Holiday. Carole Boston Weatherford. Art by Floyd Cooper.
Wordsong. 2008
Amiri and Odette: a Love Story. Walter Dean Myers. Scholastic Press. 2009

Screenplay

Riot. Walter Dean Myers. Egmont USA. 2009

Epistolary

My Most Excellent Year. Steve Kluger. Dial Books. 2008
The Murder of Bindy MacKenzie. Jaclyn Moriarty. Arthur A. Levine Books. 2006

Short Stories/Novella

Pretty Monsters. Kelly Link. Decorations Shaun Tan. Viking. 2008
No Such Thing as the Real World. HarperTeen. 2009
Angry Management. Chris Crutcher. Greenwillow Books. 2009

Recordings

Thirteen Reasons Why. Jay Asher. Razorbill. 2007

Diaries/Journals/Blogs

Pieces of Georgia. Jen Bryant. Knopf. 2006
How My Private Personal Journal Became a Bestseller. Julia DeVillers.
Dutton Childrens Books. 2004
Click Here to Find Out How I Survived Seventh Grade. Denise Vega.
Little, Brown. 2005

Picture Books

Timbuktu. Paul Auster. Illustrations Julia Goschke. Penguin Young Readers
Group. 2002
Beowulf a Tale of Blood, Heat and Ashes. Retold by Nicky Raven. Illustrations
John Howe. Candlewick Press. 2007

http://www.megcabot.com/diary/?p=1224

So I didn’t see any movies at all this weekend—except Rachel Getting Married, but that was on Starz or HBO or something, and it’s been out forever, so that doesn’t count.

I have to say, if Kim (Anne Hathaway’s character) was my sister, not only would I NOT have invited ...

I have an audition for a television show in a few hours. Wish me luck! Cross those fingers, please!

Update: I feel as though it went well. Now it's a matter of whether or not I look the part, as they're casting lookalikes to match real people, a real family.

Working on a book about bank robbers, I came across this video.

Jury instructions in the case against my great-grandfather for gunning down my grandmother's boyfriend:

"If you believe that the defendant, acting as a reasonably prudent man, just before he made the assault on Jim Wallis, honestly believed that the same said Jim Wallis was taking undue liberties with the person of his daughter, Effie, thereby by his wiles and blandishments to deprive her of chastity, that he had a right to act upon such appearances, and if necessary, to slay the said Jim Wallis to preserve his daughter's chastity, he could legally do so."

So I've heard of shotgun weddings. But the right to shoot someone for thinking he is going to seduce your daughter?

My first Teaser Tuesday! I was writing this entry and then I realized I don't know the rules.. Am I allowed to post something from a book that's already done? Or do I have to post something from what I'm working on now? Hmmm...

This is from my YA novel ACES UP, which will be out in August...

------------------------

“This is you, right?” he asks. He pulls a crumpled-up piece of paper out of his pocket. He’s still a few feet away, but I can tell what it is. An internet printout of an article from our local newspaper, The Whitinsville Eagle. ‘HIGH SCHOOL JUNIOR WINS BIG AT MATH DECATHLON,’ it says. It’s accompanied by a picture of me, smiling into the camera and looking a little cross-eyed. Also, I’m wearing a white shirt, which has the unfortunate effect of making it look like my head is floating in midair.

Uh-oh. Is this some kind of trick? Is Cole actually casino security, trying to fool me into admitting I’m only seventeen? I square my shoulders and pretend I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“No,” I say, squinting at the picture and hoping I look super-confused. “I’ve never seen that girl in my life.”

“It says your name underneath it,” Cole points out. Damn.

“What do you want?” I ask again, letting the door go. It closes behind me. “If you’re trying to blackmail me, good luck. I have seventeen dollars to my name, so if you want to go through all this trouble for that, then be my guest!” I pull open my purse and shake my money onto the ground in a pathetic storm of fives and ones. I was trying to sound haughty, but it didn’t come out that well. “And where did you get that printout, anyway?”

“Googled you,” he says.

“Why were you googling me?” I ask suspiciously.

“We do a standard background on all the new employees.”

“We?”

“Aces Up.”

“What’s ay says up?” I ask again. Definitely sounds shady.

“It’s a poker society,” he says. “And we want you to join.”

I frown. “A poker society? I don’t know anything about poker.”

“We want to teach you.” He looks at me intently, his dark eyes serious. “We think with your math skills, you might be able to win a lot of money.”

“How much?” I ask in spite of myself. I mean, I would never gamble for money. A) I can’t risk losing everything B) Gambling is shady and C) I’m totally underage. Lying to get a job is one thing. Lying to gamble is another thing completely. But still. Now that Cole doesn’t seem as dangerous, and my path to the door is clear, I’m slightly intrigued.

“Lots.” In this light, he looks a little bit like Casey Affleck. But I will not be swayed by mopsy hair and dimples. Especially when I’m smart enough to know that nothing comes for free, especially money.

“Yeah, well assaulting me outside the elevator? Not the way to get me to join your stupid society,” I say.

“I told you, it’s secret,” he says, waving his hand like it’s nothing. “We have to be careful who sees us together.”

“I don’t want to be a poker player,” I say. I open the door again, and my feet sink into the soft carpet of the hallway. “I don’t want to be a gambler of any kind. And so I’m leaving.” I take one step outside, waiting for him to call after me. “Aren’t you going to try to stop me?” I ask, turning back around.

“Nope,” he says. And then looks me up and down, like he’s sizing me up. But not the way guys usually do, like they’re trying to figure out if they want to hook up with you. It’s more like he’s giving me a tryout of some sort. In fact it’s kind of ….sexy. Way sexier than the other kind of sizing up. But then I remember there’s nothing sexy about accosting me in an elevator and trapping me in a hotel room.

And then I figure it out. He’s pretending he doesn’t need me, so that I’ll be all, “I want to be a famous poker player, oh, please please please!” Ha! He obviously doesn’t know who he’s messing with. “I’m leaving,” I say again, forcefully this time.

“Okay.” He shrugs again. Annoying.

“Well,” I say. “Bye.” I step all the way into the hallway then.

“Bye, Shannon,” he calls as the door shuts behind me. But something about the way he says it implies he thinks I’m going to be back.....

Y'all tired of the HQHos debacle? Yeah, me too. Not that it's still not important and needs to be discussed, but you get to a point of oversaturation and simply have to draw back. And frankly, I have this thing about Publishing Darwinism. For the people who are insisting that vanity publishing* is a viable alternative and that we traditionally published folks are all elitist and shit, think we're more talented than Everyone Else, and have no faith in an individual's ability to discern what's a scam and what's not? Vaya con Dios, my friends. Catch you with your broken bank accounts on the flip side. (And yes, something like this did happen-- to authors Stacia Kane and Jackie Kessler.)

*And for the record, vanity publishing and self publishing are not the same. A lot of other people who are far smarter and have more patience than I have explained it. And if I get permission to post, a bookseller has done an amazing breakdown of what it would cost an author to produce a book with the benefits a bookseller would expect in order to carry it in a brick and mortar store.

Okay, enough of that. Moving on.

First up, my lovely, darling Selah March (dubious_virtue) liesillustrates the insanitynuances of a critique partnership of nearly a decade over at Tales From the Crit. The conversation quoted is actually real. And repeated often.

Moving on some more. To the thing I actually love and for which I would dearly love to continue receiving payment, writing.

I love when a random bit of research sparks a bit of a scene, if not an entire scene by itself. I was researching vintage lipstick colors and cases (don't ask-- it's me being supremely anal-retentive) and discovered that in the late 1950s/early 1960s, Revlon partnered with jeweler Van Cleef & Arpels whereupon the latter designed a limited edition cosmetics cases. (Lipsticks and compacts are what I've found so far.) For my purposes, I was more interested in the lipsticks (Didja know that Revlon's "Love That Red" has been around since 1951? True fax.) and once I discovered an image of the Van Cleef & Arpels designed cases, a dimension to the scene I was currently working on formed in my mind and Wouldn't Let Go. So I went with it. Because this story gives me enough fits-- I don't need to be arguing with the little bits here and there. So here we go.

Oh, and before I post, look at the cases. Aren't they pretty? I'm tempted to buy one, just because. Maybe if this story sells, I will. Packrats R Us.



Teaser Tuesday, from Between Here & Gone...

He pulled free from my grasp, pointing back to the front door as he headed down the floating staircase. "Wait for me in the car. I mean it."

Not an option. And now was not the time to explain I didn't need to be coddled. That at this point, we were in this together. I clattered down the stairs behind him, ignoring his warnings of, "Natalia, no—don't."

It was gallant, but what more could there possibly be? I was inured against more of the same. Was even able to breathe fairly naturally as I confronted more of the same filthy words scribbled across the white walls. Was steady enough to disregard the graffiti in lieu of the unexpected sight of dozens of small silver cases lined up with a uniform precision along the long edge of the pool.

"Ava, wherever you're hiding, get the hell out here. "

As Jack's voice echoed throughout the enormous room and he pushed open the various doors, I crouched down by the cases, picking them up, one by one. All of them identical, etched with delicate scrollwork and capped with faux pearls and rhinestones. I recognized these cases. Lipstick cases, created for Revlon by Van Cleef & Arpels, a limited, sought after item several years back. I recalled the glossy advertisements splashed across the pages of all the fashion magazines, showing off the elegant cases, fit for royalty, nestled inside their red-velvet lined boxes. And after hearing me gush time and again, Nico had arrived home from one of his trips to the States, package in hand. I could remember the thrill I'd felt, lifting the lid on the small box. So elegant—so unique. Something not everyone could have. To see so many of them gathered in one place was unnerving. Almost… obscene. There they stood, so pristine and polished, as if never handled, until removing the cap from one exposed the ravaged remains of a once-vibrant lipstick. The same dramatic red she'd worn the other day. The same shade as what was smeared across the walls. Slowly, I removed the caps from each case, not surprised to discover all of the lipsticks—all the same color—ground down to waxy nubs.

***
As usual, there's no guarantee that any of this will wind up in the finished MS, but I like it, it was a pretty free-flowing moment and you have to treasure those, and let's face, I'm the descriptive passage's ho.

Learn more about Susan Patron and her latest book, Lucky Breaks, illustrated by Matt Phelan (Simon & Schuster/Atheneum/ginee seo, 2009).

How do you psyche yourself up to write and to keep writing?

When I was eight, I had to keep my little sister captive in the bathtub every night until she got clean. This was my job, and it wasn't easy; she was four and squirmy.

So I made up stories, probably pastiches of comic strips in the Los Angeles Times, in which my sister played a pivotal role.

But here's the trick: I believed that I was retrieving the stories from the bathroom's built-in laundry hamper.

Since people were always throwing their dirty clothes into it, there was a continuous supply of stories, which somehow rubbed off them and onto their clothes. All I had to do was open a little window in my mind and the stories would fly in.

It was my way of bringing forth, every day, a miniature drama or narrative--I wasn't "creating" them, I was "finding" them.

I also discovered that I could deliver a beginning and a middle, but if the end was elusive, it was okay to stop midstream with a promise that we'd find out the ending tomorrow. And the next day I'd sit again on the lid of the toilet, focus on the laundry hamper, and "receive" stories through the little window in my mind, while my small sister sat in the cooling water, sucking her washcloth, waiting.

I know this is odd. It was about creating diversions, ways of tricking myself, so as to avoid the difficult task of "making up" stories--even though that's exactly what I was doing.

When, as a grownup in the early 1990's, my sister casually recounted our old bathtub-stories family saga to the editor of my picture books, he turned to me and said, "Go write that. It's a book--a novel, not a picture book."

I was filled with equal parts joy (he thinks I can actually write a novel!) and fear (how the hell does one write a novel?).

So I tricked myself into doing it by setting down the story as if it were an oral tale, like my picture books--as if it came from the folk tradition and I was just doing a "modern retelling" of stuff I "knew."

(The book was called Maybe Yes, Maybe No, Maybe Maybe, illustrated by Abigail Halpin (Atheneum paperback reprint, 2009)).

What I'm saying is, if I were to poise my fingers expectantly over the keyboard every day saying, "now I'm going to write a cohesive, exciting, original, relevant, wonderfully-realized novel," I'd crack open and die, like a rock committing suicide. Instead, I fool around--in a very serious way--pretending that this isn't the important part and I'll just jot down one little scene for now and get to the hard part later.

And if I pay really close attention to what I already "know" about the characters--what I've already written, about how the crabby neighbor always hesitates a second and licks her baby finger before turning a certain corner, for instance--I have to trust that I had some reason for envisioning that, and now my job is to tease it out, to peel off the layers to find out why she licks her finger and how that relates to her crabbiness, because of course it must. I just open the little window in my mind, and it all comes wafting in.

How have you come to thrive in such a competitive, unpredictable industry?

If I have thriven (and thank you for the rare opportunity to use that form of the verb), it's mostly due to respecting the intelligence and sensitivities of readers. This means trying to write a story in which some form of truth (something I need fairly urgently to express) is revealed—not directly, but through the fiction itself. A kind of truth, in other words, that speaks directly to the heart of the reader, and can be expressed only by means of the story.

Add to that a couple of really lucky breaks.

And finally: watching for opportunities and finding them in events that at first appear to be inopportune. For example, I have had a different editor for each of the three books in the "Lucky's Hard Pan" trilogy.

The editor for my first six books, Richard Jackson, announced his retirement after publishing The Higher Power of Lucky (Simon & Schuster/Atheneum/Richard Jackson, 2006). I was hard at work on Lucky Breaks, which he had acquired.

The prospect of a new, unknown editor was daunting: I'd known of editors being coerced into taking on projects they hadn't acquired and resenting it; I'd heard about the dire fate of many orphaned books, etc.

Plus, there was significant fear in writing a sequel to a book that had just won a major award; this was by far the most difficult book I'd ever undertaken, and I was already struggling to stay on the project.

The brilliant Ginee Seo agreed to edit the book, and I loved working with her. She got me through that paralyzing insecurity about measuring up to the previous book. She taught me a great deal. (There is a very short piece about this, "A Lucky Break: What My Last Book Taught Me," in "Hunger Mountain," a publication about writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts.)

After we had finished our work together on Lucky Breaks and after Ginee acquired the final book of this trilogy, she left Atheneum. My sense of loss and sadness (okay, despair) were mitigated, and I was again hugely fortunate, because I was given the chance to work with another of the great editors of our time, Caitlyn Dlouhy. I'd heard about her formidable editorial talents for years from my friend Cynthia Kadohata.

Caitlyn and I are now working fruitfully and happily on the concluding title in the "Lucky's Hard Pan" trilogy.

Three different editors, each with a distinct style and process, working on three closely related books. I believe that each editor wanted what was best for the book, and I hold them all in highest regard. What could have been seen as difficult and conflicting was for me an opportunity. I guess it's about faith and trust. And 'tude.

Of course I'm aware that the question may refer to a more practical type of action, such as maintaining an online presence and having a Facebook page for your main character. And while these are useful, I resist the temptation to give them tremendous weight, which would invite a correlation between successes and failures and some form of pajama marketing.

Better, I think, to look at craft, to remember that what editors, agents, librarians, book retailers, and readers want is a memorable story.

In your own words, could you tell us about your latest book?

This final book in the trilogy [tentatively titled "Lucky for Good"] brings Lucky face to face with an excruciating moral dilemma involving Miles and his mother, Justine, who returns to Hard Pan. Lucky also gets into serious trouble for starting a fight with an older boy, discovers a strange relative called "Stick," and says the hardest goodbye of her life. Meanwhile, Hard Pan residents join together into an unlikely army, declaring war against the closure, by the County Health Department, of Brigitte's Hard Pan Café.

In facing deep questions of belief and faith, truth and meaning, this concluding book continues to explore the vast, rocky landscape of the human heart. As always, Lucky is brave and foolish, impulsive and tender, vulnerable and determined. Ultimately she forges her own path: Lucky for good.

In the video below, check out a "Chidren's Book Trailer for middle grade novel Lucky Breaks, a sequel to Newbery winner, The Higher Power of Lucky by Susan Patron."



Cynsational Notes

The Craft, Career & Cheer series features conversations with children's-YA book creators about positive aspects of their creative and professional lives.

Tonight, Tuesday, November 24th at 6 PM PST/9 PM EST, author Marlene Carvell will be chatting live at the readergirlz blog - http://readergirlz.blogspot.com Join us as we discuss her novel Sweetgrass Basket, this month's featured title at readergirlz.

Learn more about the author and her books at http://www.readergirlz.com within the November 2009 issue. Also read our roundtable discussion of Sweetgrass Basket and check out my review of the book.

Don't forget to join us next Monday, November 30th at 6 PM PST/9 PM EST for our first rgz RAVE Homecoming. Over two dozen authors whose works have been featured at readergirlz will be chatting live with readers.

Each chat will last for an hour.

http://www.notmartha.org/archives/2009/11/24/bacon-lattice-spotted-at-williams-sonoma/

http://www.notmartha.org/?p=4768

Flipping through a Williams-Sonoma catalog I saw something familiar, they used a bacon lattice as the topping for their Home Skillet Frittata. The bacon lattice you might know as the Bacon Mat at Instructables, the inspiration for my Bacon Cups. Neat.

While I'm talking about Williams-Sonoma, did you see the Giant Sandwich Cookie Cake Pan? Or the Snowy Village Cakelet Pan? I want both, I need neither.

It is a much smaller group today, but ALAN goes on with deep appreciation for all the goodies. More books today. Dozens more authors, too. First up is a new author panel with Francisco Stork, Eve Tal, Alan Zadoff, Sarah Ockler, and Maggie Stiefvater. Chair is Sarah Herz. Next will be breakout sessions. Hate to nbe leaving Philly but I will be so happy to get home to hubby, resident of the back bedroom, and Scout.

More will be in tweets (ProfessorNana).

So, my laptop died late yesterday afternoon, so I did not have the chance to talk about two things.

The Walden Award ceremony, chaired by Daria Plumb, was lovely. Jacqueline Woodson read from AFTER TUPAC AND D FOSTER. Then winner of the first ever Walden Award, Steve Kulger, spoke about his book: MY MOST EXCELLENT YEAR. If you have not read these books and the other three from the short list, please do so (GRACELING, GRAVEYARD BOOK, ME THE MISSING AND THE DEAD).


Then, it was off to dinner with the lovely and award winning Wendy Lamb (who won the Hipple Award; see earlier post). Joining us: Jim Blasingmae (incoming PreZ of ALAN), David Gill (outgoing past prez of ALAN, Jean Brown, and Marshall George). Dinner at Maggiano's was family style and we are indeed a family. Wonderful meal.

Electricity went out in the middle of the night but my phone alarm woke us in time to grab coffee and head down to Day Two. I will be tweeting from here (ProfessorNana).

Oh, and I got to see the handsome new college student, Baker Beers, a freshman at U Penn and son of Kylene, our now Past Prez of NCTE.

OPENERS


"When something can be read without effort, great effort has gone into its writing."
----Enrique Jardiel Poncela

"It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talent for writing, but I couldn't give it up because by that time I was too famous." ---Peter Benchley


Today's topic for balance: OPENING LINES.

I'm guessing we've all heard, at some point, that the opening lines/ paragraphs of your story are critical. They MUST draw the reader in immediately. The more gripping, the more succinct, the better. Your reader must instantly want to know more. If they don't, you will lose them.

Hey, this is very true. I'm not going to argue.

Well.....yes. Yes, I am. Because I can think of plenty of cherished, loved, adored novels that I read as a young adult or child...and just as many of them had openings that instantly "sucked you in" as did not.

Example:

"The Primroses were over."

---Richard Adams, WATERSHIP DOWN

Not exactly gripping, is it? Doesn't tell you much, does it? But Watership Down was a favorite of mine and I reread it many times.

"In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice I've been turning over in my mind ever since.
"Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."
--F. Scott Fitzgerald, THE GREAT GATSBY

"Scarlett O'Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply blended the delicate features of her mother, a Coast aristocrat of French descent, and the heavy ones of her florid Irish father. But it was an arresting face, pointed of chin, square of jaw."

---Margaret Mitchell, GONE WITH THE WIND

"Late in the afternoon of a chilly day in February, two gentlemen were sitting alone over their wine, in a well-furnished parlor, in the town of P--, in Kentucky. There were no servants present, and the gentlemen, with chairs closely approaching, seemed to be discussing some subject with great earnestness."

----Harriet Beecher Stowe, UNCLE TOM'S CABIN

"Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about a primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal."
---Antoine de Saint Exupery, THE LITTLE PRINCE


Tell me something. If you went to a writer's conference today, in one of those catchy "First lines" workshops, would any of these stand the test of a roomful of eager writers? Would someone perhaps point out that the opening lines don't tell enough, don't grab enough, don't "do" enough?

What do you think?

And yet look at how these stories have endured.

In WATERSHIP DOWN, does it matter that after reading a vast novel full of war, death, and great upheaval, that the very last sentence of the book mentions the Primroses are blooming? Yes it does. Because it harkens back to that opening sentence, that sentence that someone might consider rather dry for an opener. The novel begins at the end of one thing, and ends at the beginning of another. Beautiful!

However. Those catchy "first line" workshops have merit, and they do have a point. Of course you want to draw your reader in. Of course you want a good opener. So let's look at some openings that are a bit more direct and speedy in drawing the reader into the story.

"Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret. We're moving today. I'm so scared, God. I've never lived anywhere but here."

---Judy Blume, ARE YOU THERE GOD? IT'S ME, MARGARET

"There is nothing lonelier than a cat who has been loved, at least for a while, and then abandoned on the side of the road."
---Kathi Appelt, THE UNDERNEATH

"I was sitting in a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a dumpster."
---Jeanette Walls, THE GLASS CASTLE

"When Mrs. Frederick C. Little's second son arrived, everybody noticed he was not much bigger than a mouse. The truth of the matter was, he looked like a mouse in every way."
---E.B. White, STUART LITTLE

"I didn't believe Pamela would ever die. She was too big, too mad, too furious for anything so shabby and easy as death. And for a few moments as she lay on the floor that day, I thought it was one of her jokes."
--Norma Fox Mazer, WHEN SHE WAS GOOD

"I used to be someone. Someone named Jenna Fox. That's what they tell me."
---Mary E. Pearson, THE ADORATION OF JENNA FOX


You be the judge. Sure, some lines may be more grabby than others. Yet each of these novels are well known, and have all achieved critical acclaim.

So all I'm saying is, if you are staring at your first lines, and thinking, "they don't work. They don't grab. Therefore my book is doomed, it will never be published, it will never work, it will die right here in my living room, a pathetic manuscript," well...don't despair. And above all, do not waste precious drafting energy on agonizing over those first lines. Don't feel you have to fit a prescribed niche. Let your story dictate your opening. Be honest and true to your story, and then relax. Let your editor take it from there. If they need tweaking, your editor will help. Fantastic opening lines cannot save a dull story. Likewise, an amazing story will not be ignored by a publisher because the first line is not just right. Put your energy into the whole piece, and have faith.

Take a deep breath, understand there are no black and white rules here, and keep writing.

And come back tomorrow!

Not sure if I'll get around to posting what I meant to post this week, so thought I'd share an old entry with you instead. I wrote this two years ago, before I was agented or had any books under contract. Surprisingly, I still see and occasionally give into the greenness on the other side of the publisghing rainbow. With Thanksgiving this week, I hope each of us can look at where we are at in writing, IN LIFE, and appreciate it. Just like there is always going to be someone who has more, there is really always something each of us can be grateful for that we might not recognize enough.


Originally posted November 14, 2007

WHEN SOMEONE ELSE GETS THE CALL
In high school, whenever the whispers of Homecoming began, everything relationship-wise, both with girlfriends and members of the opposite sex, shifted. A few weeks, even months before the dance, everyone would start scoping the scene and asked the following questions: Who did I like? Who did I have the potential to like? Who liked me? Who were the old faithfuls, the guy friends who would come through in a pinch. The list would be mentally prioritized by a complex system that involved the guys interest in me and other girl's interest in him. Oh, and his heighth. Although this equation somehow didn't work with my 5'5" Prom date.
Then, the first girl would get asked in some crazy way, and the game was on. In my school, guys didn't just ASK, they flew a banner on the back of an airplane or decorated their date's room or sent a singing telegram. And I'd go on hyper-alert, never sure when I'd find flowers on my desk or a sign in my bedroom.
My junior year, it felt like everyone was getting asked but me. Some of my friends had the security of boyfriends, some the security of being incredible flirts. I remember one friend got a massive boquet from the boy I thought might ask me in the middle of English. And I cried and pretended it was for another lame reason. I was so jealous of all the girls who didn't even have to work at it! Who always had a date, and sometimes has multiple suitors. I started crossing names off my list, wondering how much I'd have to pay my brother to take me. I thought my turn would never come.
Well, it did. I went to Homecoming with a great guy, a guy who had a good combination of friendom and flirtocity. Then the next dance came up, and the agony began again. Sometimes, it got in the way of friendships. Sometimes, it broke up potential love matches. All this for a couple awkward photographs with a cheap cityscape background, a few slow dances and fancy dinner.
I wish I could have cared less then. I wish I would have been more confident to go after who I wanted. I wish could have been happier for all my girlfriends, even the disgustingly popular and cute ones.
I wish I didn't make other people's happiness about me.
The good news is, though, I'm mostly over it now. A friend recently asked me how I feel when "it" happens for someone else, someone who used to be in the same camp as me. (and this can be applied to any of life's changes--marriage, pregnancy, job promotions, whatever) And my answer is---I can now recognize other people's success and not worry about my own. Lately, tons of authors are matching up with their perfect publisher or agent or getting great deals and reviews and I'm finally at the point where my reaction isn't a twinge of jealousy, but happiness.
Just happiness.
Happiness that someone else is beginning to realize their dream. It's their reward, their conquest. It doesn't make me any less special or cute or talented or whatever. It isn't about me.
If we can't let go of those comparisons, it's not going to end with the deal. Someone else will sell more books. Someone else will get better reviews. Someone else will make more money. As the great LIndsay Lohan said in Mean Girls, "All we can do is try to solve the problem in front of you."
My date will come, hopefully in a Patrick Dempsey-esque package. But for everyone else, I'm happy for you. Get out their and dance, dance DANCE!
You deserve it.

• 19:21 @joshhaber I'm hardcore. Surely you knew this already. #
• 00:37 @bluesreader @meganmccafferty We do know each other! But thanks for the introduction anyway. :) #
• 15:35 .@lizapalmer re: James Spader's "O.G. Chuck Bass" role in Pretty in Pink: "Why isn't his love real?" #
• 16:18 @LizaPalmer I could not be more with you. #

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Below the cut are four art trading cards I've created for swaps on Swap-Bot. I'm having lots of fun with it and it has really sparked my creativity in new ways!



( Art trading cards )

I have a mild obsession with Narwhals. They're the unicorns of the sea! So I made a pendant :)

NARWHAL

It's sawn out from sterling silver, using a doodle of a Narwhal that I drew.

I vote Narwhals should be the next fawns and owls.

A few more pieces I made recently.



I really like how this one came out. I think it's my favorite bowl so far.

( More after the cut )

My dolls went through a bunch of themes and periods this time. =) I hope you'll like them.

( Nativity, Angel, Pilot, Cardinal and Maiden. )