The Charmed Bracelet

Page 200

2012-02-12T22:00:00.000-05:00

I hit page 200 tonight in the revision of TCB!!!

I thought I was only on 199, but I was just going through everything again and tweaking sentences, and saving obsessively (you know, like you do), and I realized that I'm at the end of page 200.

That is LEGIT.

Revisions have felt absolutely painful these last few chapters. Rivendell Hell has been more than a match for me. But at long last, Maggie the Protagonist is rested and fed. She has acquired knowledge and traveling companions. Together they have united towards a common goal.

I am very happy to report that it's closing time in Rivendell Hell. The characters don't have to go home (in fact, some of them can't until this quest is over), but they CANNOT stay here. Not one page longer.

Can I get a HUZZAH up in here?

Mini Sheep FTW

2012-02-10T09:49:00.000-05:00

You guys!! Guess what?????

I have discovered a beautiful farm in Maine that raises and sells mini sheep!!!!

Yes. That is a mini sheep with a chicken on its head. Can you even stand the cuteness??

If you are unfamiliar with my obsession with mini sheep, please refer to this post.

True Story: A couple days ago I was telling a friend about how it's been my dream to own mini sheep someday and he started making jokes about mini lamb chops. He's a super super nice person and was clearly just joking, but I could barely muster up even a smile.

You DO NOT eat mini sheep. You love them. You care for them. You watch them wander around, nibbling grass.

And maybe, if you are very very lucky and have earned their trust, you can give their fluffy little backsides a gentle pat.

Oh come on, sassy sheep! Please??

These are the moments when I think, "We were meant to live in Maine."

(All images from Romney Ridge Farm, Woolwich, ME)

Interlude, With a Wig

2012-02-09T20:11:00.000-05:00

Sometimes (say, for example, five second ago) I look up from my writing and I think to myself,

"How long has it been since I scoured the internet for the perfect and as-yet-undiscovered Princess Lolly wig?"

The answer, of course, is always "Too long."

(Note to the cosplayers out there, who have settled for a less than perfect wig: LOLLY'S HAIR IS NOT PINK. YOU HAVE DONE THE PRINCESS AND YOURSELF A DISSERVICE.)

Personally, I have been searching for years.

Today, however, I shall resist the siren call of internet shopping. Instead I will finish this scene I'm writing and maybe soon I will finally cross the 200 page mark.

And there will be much rejoicing.

But not nearly as much rejoicing as there will be on the Day of Destiny, foretold in ancient prophecy, when at last I discover the perfect curly but not too curly, purple but not too purple Princess Lolly wig*.

*lollypop crown non included

Life Is Not Like a Novel, Except When It Is

2012-02-08T09:00:00.000-05:00

This post started out as a warning to all my fellow bibliophiles who sometimes confuse life with novels. In the end, however, I think I realized that we can learn some valuable, or at the very least, interesting life lessons by doing just that.

Let's start with the basics. Like a book, life does have a beginning, as far as WE understand it. It begins when you are born, and there's a really long prologue narrated by someone else until you are old enough to remember anything, this being around the age of three. There is also an identifiable (though not necessarily final) end. But is that where the similarities end? Hardly.

Story arcs do exist in real life. The difference is that they are many, and tangled. Some plot threads may lie dormant and forgotten for tens of thousands of pages, only to reemerge in a way that adds nothing to the story, that, in fact, makes us regress in our character growth.

That leads me to the most frustrating part of life v. novels: character development is not linear. I can't tell you how many times I've been infuriated by a friend for bringing up an issue that I, as the supportive friend in her life/novel, had helped her resolve through many a patient conversation over drinks or coffee or the phone.

In these situations, I often want to shout, "We had this dialogue before. I can skip ahead and see that he cheats on you! It's so obvious. WHY are you regressing? It's making the reader wonder why you are in this story at all!"

And that can be super awkward to say. Some overly sensitive types might even be insulted by your impatience with their real life troubles.

Also important to remember when comparing life to novels: falling in love does not signal the resolution of your story or relationship. In a novel, falling in love can really be quite simple. There are only so many characters, for starters. It narrows down the potential romantic interest pool significantly.

In life, however, there are so so many people. There are people at work, at the high school reunion, at the grocery store, at your friend's wedding, there are even people—real people, mind you—at the DMV.

How is a protagonist supposed to know WHO is the right person for her/ him??

You don't. And here's the worst part: There might be MORE THAN ONE. There might be a right person for a particular time in your life. You meet, fall in love, etc etc. And then, one day, that story arc ends for no REASON. There's no explanation, it just ends.

(There's a great Raymond Carver story about that. Or was it Richard Seltzer? This may horrify you, but I sometimes get them confused. When I read short stories I tend to remember the story not the author. Anyway it's about a couple sitting on their front step or dinner table, realizing their marriage has ended without asking them for permission. Anyone out there remember what it was??)

And so you break up. You divorce. You move out. You do whatever needs to be done. And you do it alone, because there are no readers cheering you on. They finished your love story YEARS ago, and have no idea that a sequel, no, companion novel, is being rushed to publication at this very moment. You think that's it. Love arc over. And then...maybe, one day while standing in line at the DMV...you meet someone. And a new, messy arc begins again.

The thing to remember is that every life has an author—YOU. Every person is both the author and the protagonist in their own story. So you better start acting like it.

What makes things a little more complicated is that all the books and all the people in this world blend together, elbowing for space and running into each other's sentences.

The scariest part of all? There is no editor.

No one is guiding the plot threads, no one is monitoring the character growth. No one is making sure than any of it makes any sense at all.

But what about God(s)? say the religious types.

Well, I've been wondering that myself. I would say that God (in whatever form you prefer), might take on two roles: the Head of the Publishing House and your literary agent.

As the head of the ONLY publishing house, God would want every book to flourish, but that might be at the expense of other equally deserving books. So, she does her best and just tries to keep them all in print for as long as possible and hopes that each one will succeed on its own merit.

As your literary agent, God gives you personal attention. God may not line edit, but he can sense when a plot arc has gone wrong. She thinks you should consider revising it because it just doesn't feel right. The suggestions are broad, instinctive, and ultimately leave the quality of your life, I mean book, up to you.

It should be noted for the atheists, that you do not need an agent to get published, nor do you need a publishing house. You can go it alone and self publish, if you choose. It just makes things a little harder.

This has gotten awfully philosophical for a Wednesday morning pre-coffee. And it's all because Terri Windling posted this quote to her blog:

"For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin -- real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. " - Alfred D'Souza

I often feel this way, but guess what? Your story has not only begun, it's being written right now AND published simultaneously. So you better hurry up and show some character growth, make some mistakes, and take some risks or else no one's going to want to read it.

The Accidental Time Traveler

2012-02-02T10:21:00.000-05:00

When people hear that Curt and I are living so close to the campus of our alma mater, they inevitably ask, "Isn't that weird?"

Then we say, "No, no. It's not weird because it's not like we just graduated. We've lived in Boston since then, and Vermont. It's not weird at all."

And it's true that we've lived in several different places since then. It's true that we've been married for more years than we were in college, that neither of us wants to go back to living in a dorm room or eating food off a tray at every meal. That one of us (Curt), does not in the slightest miss homework.

Okay, I don't really miss that part either.

There's just one thing that is weird: the time travel.

One thing you should know about me is that I am never living fully in the present. I try, I really do, but the ghosts make it impossible. Any time I go somewhere I've been before, I see memories playing out in front of me. Layer upon layer of the past is existing simultaneously and all I can do is watch and remember.

It happens in Boston and Brighton, in Connecticut and Scotland. Even the most inconsequential moments stay with me, like saying hello to a friend for the first time, or giggling with my roommate while we walked back from dinner. I can't stop it. In fact, I rather enjoy it.

It's particularly potent here because my college is small and therefore the ghosts are dense. I have found that since moving back, I walk different paths than the ones I took while I was a student. I do not cross the center of campus unless it's the weekend. It helps to remind me that I have a new life here, and a good one.

But sometimes, like today, I make a mistake. As I step through a doorway, an indescribable smell pulls at me. What is it? Just the smell of the walls and the carpet and the cleaning products that have come together into an alchemical scent I can only describe as memory. There is something about the lights and the way they hum, something about the fliers on the walls.

Without meaning to, I think, "I'm home."

It's a warm feeling, like coming in from the cold only to be hugged and handed a hot chocolate by a dear friend.

And I know I have time traveled by accident.

Then I take another step, and the present punches me in the stomach so hard I can't breath. This place is not that home, any more than an old house where I used to live could still be considered my home.

A home is defined by the people who live in it, and there are new students on campus now. I will never walk across the quad and see Howie the Goose Boy with his long neck and bobbing walk, I will never pass the library and see Jay, always sitting in the same spot, always with his black umbrella, no matter the weather. Those people are gone. They don't live here anymore.

And, in fact, I'm not the same person I was then, so you could say Undergrad Jennifer doesn't live here anymore either.

That place only exists in the past.

I live in a new home now, albeit one that is draped over the same brick framework. Of course, the ghosts are still here, and they remember. And so do I.

It makes me think of this quote by Little Edie Beale (captured in the 1975 documentary Grey Gardens), which Rufus Wainwright sampled in his song Grey Gardens:

“It’s very difficult to keep the lines between the past and the present…You know what I mean?"

30 Second Jaunt

2012-02-01T16:28:00.000-05:00

Hello there, Dearest Reader.Is it incorrect to capitalize the "d" and the "r" in that sentence? I know, I should look it up, right? Because I used to be a grammar handbook editorial assistant. But I just started a sentence with "because" and another one with "but" and I clearly cannot be trusted.

Anyway, I think capitalizing words should be a matter of choice. Wooo, freedom!!!

I have perhaps spent too much time alone so far this week. Thoughts?

I don't have much to say as evidenced by my lack of blogging this week. I'm on the other side of the Great Divide known as 30. I still do not have cheekbones but I do have super cute boots that I bought while I was in Boston with my twin sister, as well as some other birthday treasures. It doesn't feel so bad now that it's over.

Anyway, this week I'm trying to stay on top of my application reading while still making time for writing. How is it going? Well, today is the first day I've been able to write but honestly that's not half bad considering how I've been faring the last couple weeks.

We're now squarely in the middle of the week. I've heard some people say they're tired this week, and glum. In need of a vacation. Aren't we all? But in lieu of that, would you care to join me on a 30 second jaunt in which we pretend 1. to be British 2. to own an Irish wolfhound and 3. to have befriended a fox.

What? You want to make tea first? By all means. I can wait.

Ten Years Ago...

2012-01-25T23:24:00.002-05:00

Ten years ago, I knew I wanted to be a novelist but I had never written anything even close to 100 pages long.

Then I wrote a 164 page creative thesis. After that, I decided High Fantasy wasn't really what I was meant to write despite reading it for so many years.

My next novel featured a twenty-three-year-old blogger named Paige, her younger sister Rory, and a foxy Fae named Adder Whitethorn. It was (gulp) 329 pages long.

I scrapped it and started again, completely rewriting everything but keeping the central characters and changing Paige's name to Maggie. It was 268 pages long. Then I rewrote it a few more times. Maggie grew five years older and slightly more jaded and bitter. Rory dropped out of most of the story because following both sisters on their parallel adventures just wasn't working.

Unfortunately Charlie, the kindly statue without a heart, did not survive. Don't worry, he's still out there, patiently awaiting his story.

And then, last year, after some wonderful advice and much thought, I decided to rewrite it again, almost entirely from scratch. Maggie dropped back down to 17 and wasn't quite so jaded anymore. Rory grew into the older sister. Adder continued goblin wrestling. Maggie continued blogging. I realized that the story had to be told in first person. Several voices were silenced.

Ten years ago, I wouldn't have been able to write the novel I'm writing. I knew how to immitate the sound of a novel, but I had no idea how to give it a heart. I'm still learning, but my current draft is 194 pages and counting.

And it's the best version yet.

Ten years ago, I had never lived in a city or even slept in one overnight. Ever. Since then I've lived in Stirling, Scotland (okay not exactly an overwhelming metropolis, but it has public transportation and it sure felt big to me at the time) and Boston.

Ten years ago, I had never left the country. Since then I've traveled to Scotland four times with a quick detour in Ireland. And yes, I do realize that next time I can afford to leave the country, I absolutely must go somewhere else. But it's so hard when I love Scotland so much.

Ten years ago, I thought I might want to work in publishing. When I graduated college, I elbowed my way through the door as an administrative assistant and was promoted to an editorial assistant position working on the bestselling grammar handbooks in the country.

I still don't think I'm all that good with grammar, but I'm a lot better than I used to be. And now I know how to use the Chicago Manual of Style, the MLA, and any grammar handbook you can throw at me. Just...don't test me, okay? Surprisingly, hunting down the answers to obscure grammar questions is not as fun as it sounds.

Ten years ago, I'd never had a boyfriend. Now I've been married for six years.

Ten years ago, I'd never been to a wedding reception. It turned out that the first one I attended was my own.

Ten years ago, the sickest I'd ever been was when I got pneumonia in sixth grade for two weeks. Then I got mono and was sick for four months. YES, I BROUGHT IT UP AGAIN. (Fine, I won't talk about my pee this time. I'll spare you that, at least.) And I learned that sometimes being married means relying entirely on your partner while looking the grossest you've ever looked in your life.

Ten years ago, I had never hurt my body. Then I messed up my wrist (paste up...it's a textbook publishing thing), ankle (a jump rope aerobics certification class. I should have stopped at kickboxing), and knee (turns out sometimes if you ignore something, it doesn't go away. It gets worse). I couldn't do much of anything for several years and I hated my body for giving up on me so soon.

Slowly, I worked my way back to healthy. Now I'm taking the same kickboxing class I took exactly ten years ago and I'm much kinder to my body. Also I don't use scissors. Scissors are evil.

Ten years ago, I had just started taking kickboxing classes. Since then I've become a certified instructor and I've taught classes from 5 - 100 people at Bates College, Boston, and Vermont.

Ten years ago, I had never been a permanent resident of any state except Connecticut. Since then I've lived in Massachusetts, Vermont, and Maine.

Ten years ago, I hadn't met Depression yet. Now we are sort of on-again, off-again. He never sends me flowers. Jerk.

Ten years ago, I could more or less count the number of times I'd been to the beach on one hand. The reason for this is that my otherwise practical parents sincerely believe that they have a curse that causes bad weather whenever they are less than ten miles from the ocean. But I had always wanted to live by the sea.

Since then I spent two years living just a five minute walk from the beach. I visited the ocean every day. I think Ms. Rumphius would be proud.

Ten years ago, I had never heard of Book Expo America or the Bread Loaf Writers Conference or Sirens. Since then I've worked at BEA for three years, audited Bread Loaf with author Margot Livesey, and attended Sirens twice.

Ten years ago, I knew I loved to write and I knew I loved stories but I didn't know if I had any stories to tell. Now I know I do.

Ten years ago, I didn't have cheekbones. This is still true.

Ten years ago, I was a twin. This is still true. This will always be true. Happy Birthday, Melissa.

A lot has happened in the last ten years. I wonder what will happen in the next ten...

The Coffee Survived...and That's All That Matters?

2012-01-20T14:55:00.000-05:00

So, funny story...

But first: I am super duper paranoid about falling. Whenever it's icy out, I'm on hyperalert. Why? Because: 1. Falling hurts 2. I bruise easily and 3. Falling is really really embarrassing.

I've developed a strategy of short little steps and...well, it's this whole elaborate process. And it works.

But this morning I was criticizing myself about it because, you know, I have to criticize myself about SOMETHING at all times. I was saying, "Jennifer, you are so ridiculous! You are in boots and taking little ballet steps while that freshman over there is clomping along in converse sneakers like it's July. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO FALL. Stop being so paranoid about everything."

Fast forward to this afternoon. I go to get a coffee and an egg salad sandwich. I'm wearing my boots. As I'm leaving with my coffee in one hand and sandwich in the other, I notice a truck plowing the walkway in front of me. He's reversing and slamming the truck into the snow like he's seriously got to pee but he can't until he finishes clearing this area—the area where I need to walk.

I'm thinking, Okay, he saw you. He'll wait until you cross behind him before he backs up again.

Nope. As soon as I'm behind him, I hear the beeping noise. I picture him throwing the truck into reverse with the exact same level of precision I observed moments earlier and I figure if I don't get out of the way, I'm going to get run over.

I speed up.

And then I fall. On brick sheathed in an inch of ice, which had been hidden beneath the snow.

I fall so hard that it jars my body. I fall so hard that I still have a headache twenty minutes later and it is not going away without drugs. I fall so hard I can only anticipate the exquisite bruise just now developing on my poor, mistreated right butt cheek.

I think: 1. Did anyone see me???

(A: No. Phew.)

And 2. OMG now it's like a movie and I'm on the ground and the truck is going to back up over me and kill me and that is even more embarrassing than just falling.

Of course, as you've already surmised, the truck doesn't hit me. The truck is just sitting, waiting to back up. I'm pretty sure he had to put it in park for a second so he didn't pee himself while he laughed at my pain.

(Correction: Yes, someone did see me fall.)

My sandwich is salvageable but a mess. It's not until I'm almost home, however, that I realize my coffee is perfect. It's in a flimsy cardboard container (I needed a bigger size today than my reusable mug, okay???) and I just completely wiped out, yet not a drop was spilled.

That's when I realize: My subconscious sold me out—for coffee. That's probably part of the reason why I fell so hard—rather than put my hand down to catch myself, I held onto the coffee!! In that split second when I had to make a priority decision, I put coffee before my butt, and the rest of my body for that matter.

I have to tell you, based on the pain in my skull right now, it just doesn't seem worth it. At least my mom would be proud (and will, when I recount this to her). I'm sure she'll say something like, "That's my girl."

**************
Funny Side Story: When I was in elementary school, we learned about how damaging caffeine can be on the body. I had observed my mom's zealous coffee drinking and was now seriously concerned for her health. I immediately went home and wrote her essentially an intervention letter begging her for the sake of her health and her family, to quit coffee altogether.

My mom read it and then she gave me The Look (my mom is famously nicknamed the "Velvet Hammer") and she said, "Jennifer. Listen: everyone has a vice." And I knew by that look and the tone of her voice that it would be best for the sake of MY health if I NEVER criticized her coffee consumption again.
**************

Seriously though, this jerk-face of a week can kiss my beautiful, bruised ass.

Monsters at My Door

2012-01-18T16:44:00.003-05:00

scritch scritch scritch

Go away, monsters. You can't scare me.

scritch scritch...

Everything is fine. I am fine.

scritch scratch

It's January. No one is happy in January. It's cold and there are resolutions we're already failing to keep and not enough daylight so everyone's Vitamin D deficient or something.

No one is happy the week before they turn thirty.

No one is happy all the time. That would be impossible. I'm just not having a perfect week.

It doesn't mean you can come back.

It doesn't mean anything.

....

scritch

[Edit next morning: Last night after writing this post, I forced myself to go back and face my novel again. And you know what? I got some good stuff done and I felt better. So consider that 1 point Jennifer, Monsters 0. I just kicked the door shut IN THEIR FACE. I hope they stay away. We'll see.]

That New Book Smile

2012-01-17T14:52:00.000-05:00

Reader, let's get real. Real Talk. I'm not having a good day. I'm not in a cheery mood.

Why? you ask, with that gentle look of concern. I woke up without heat (I now have heat, it's fine). This is not a good way to start the day. I'm behind on work, which means I can't write, which means my writing soul is stuck in RivenHell Purgatory along with my protagonist for the time being.

I'm having a bad hair day. It's basically the Apocalypse over here.

But something just happened to make me smile.

I was trudging home in the snow with my lukewarm coffee when I saw one of my professor neighbors. He is super friendly with waves and hellos but we don't normally exchange more than that. Today he gives me a big grin.

PROFESSOR NEIGHBOR: ....just got a new book!

ME (not hearing him well and thinking maybe he's telling me this because I just missed the delivery person): Oh! Wait—you did, or I did?

PROF N: I did!!!

ME: Oh. That's great.

PROF N: Yeah! It's one of those books I've been waiting for for a while now too. So now I've got that new book smile.

ME: Awesome.

How cute is that? I mean, I know he's a professor and all, but he's also young and he parks his car super late at night and leaves it running in the driveway while he blasts reggaeton loud enough for me to hear through the walls so...I don't know I guess my point is he doesn't come off as a quiet, nerdy professor but he's still super super excited about a new book and I just found that adorable and it made my day.

Carry on. Nothing to see here.

Wish List: Anne-Julie Aubry

2012-01-17T08:00:00.000-05:00

Dear Publishing Industry:

Some smart YA and middle grade publisher needs to hire French artist Anne-Julie Aubry for their next cover art! I just stumbled onto her work on Etsy. Reader, is it not utterly fabulous??

I'm sure people will initially think, "middle grade" because....well, because illustrations aren't really "in" for YA right now. What's "in" are digital art photographs of girls with parts of their bodies cropped out, lots of hair, and frilly dresses.

Please. It's not edgy. It's boring.

I'm campaigning for more illustrations on YA fantasy covers.

And I think this artist's work is gorgeous. I wish I had a big red magic phone I could call when I see something like this and just sort of make it happen.

Universe, please make this happen.

Love,
Jennifer

PS note: All images here are from Anne-Julie's Etsy store The Nebulous Kingdom and are available for purchase.

PPS Anne-Julie Aubry blogs here.

I Demand More Choreography in Life

2012-01-16T08:57:00.000-05:00

Good morning, reader. It's very cold in Maine. It's also very Monday. Oh, it is soooo Monday.

I have a little something to cheer you up. It's in the vein of this wedding video from Moonrat, which I posted back in July 2009 (Gulp.)

You may know by now that my high school life ambition was to, "Live a musical."

And you may know that when I was sick of cramming for an exam in college, I would fantasize that everyone in the library suddenly began to dance, all in choreographed unison, leaping over chairs and spinning on tables and waving jazz hands from behind the stacks.

I still want to live a musical. I want to live in a world where everyone can sing. Everyone can dance. And they can because they do, because there is no such thing as NOT singing or NOT dancing. There is no such thing as "I'm not good enough," or "I'm embarrassed."

In the world of the musical, there is only joy so full it must be expressed through leaps and pirouettes.

In the world of the musical, a moment of abject loneliness and sadness is often accompanied by sympathetic strangers at the bar or walking down the street, who not only recognize your pain, but harmonize with it.

I don't think it's such an unreasonable thing to wish for. The world could use more joy, more silliness, and of course, more choreography.

So, without further ado: Enjoy!

Rivendell Hell

2012-01-12T23:49:00.001-05:00

Just a quick writer post for tonight. I finally carved out some writing time tonight and I spent much of it panicking.

(Aside: Don't you think the "k" in the verb panicking as opposed to panic, makes the word look particularly unstable and anxious? I do. Moving on...)

As you might have surmised from the title of this post, I'm back in "Rivendell." For the unfamiliar, "Rivendell" Is what I call a particular place in my novel, where the protagonist Maggie gets some much-needed R&R as well as answers. It's Important but there's not a lot of action.

I can't tell you how many times I've rewritten this scene. I've changed the POV, changed what happens, changed the architecture, changed the characters in the scene, changes what Information is given and what Revelations are made. In the process I've eliminated thousands of words. And I'm still. Working. On it.

It's a really important section because it's the filter where everything comes together (mostly) and the reader and Maggie finally have a direction and a goal and of course there has to be emotional growth, but not too much. And I made it worse by adding a new friend to help Maggie with all of this. And then I decided to swoon it up by bringing in the Guy at an unexpected time. And then there are the dreams.

Yes. Dream sequences. I KNOW. They are technically restored memories but still. One must tread carefully, oh-so-very carefully, when it comes to the dreaded dream sequence.

But I made a little progress tonight, finally, after a pep talk from Curt the Inspirational Speaker/ Coach. And now it's time for bed. Thanks for reading. Writing is often lonely business.

Sweet Dream Sequences, Reader.

Blogs You Should Be Reading

2012-01-11T13:51:00.002-05:00

The way women are depicted in geekdom art is insane. From comics to manga/ anime to video games to RPG art to urban fantasy book covers, you've got to wonder if these illustrators have ever seen real women before.

You know I've sounded off about this with my paperback boobs post and guide to urban fantasy covers post.

Want more?

How about fantasy author John C. Hines attempting to contort himself into urban fantasy cover art poses with painful, funny, and insightful results?* Yes, please.

Or Escher Girls, a Tumblr account showcasing how ludicrous this art really is? Don't Mind if I do.

To balance it out, make sure you visit the Tumblr Women Fighters in Reasonable Armor, to reassure yourself that yes, women can be depicted with anatomy and clothing within the bounds of reality and some people out there are actually doing it. Hell to the yes.

And finally, for you gamers out there, Go Make Me a Sandwich provides, "A (mostly) humorous look at how not to sell games to women." Yes yes yes!

Now, read and get fired up and spread the word!

FUN FACT: during adolescence, there were three girls I wanted to be like:

1. Sailor Venus: kickass fighter with super skinny thighs

2. Buffy Summers/ Sarah Michelle Gellar: Sure she could kick your ass but SMG was and continues to be my height and about half my weight (here's my favorite photo of her from those days, which I aspired to)

3. Caitlin Fairchild: from the short-lived, X-men ripoff comic book series Gen 13. She was smart, responsible, the group leader, and her power was super strength (I really like super strength). Plus, she had red hair.

Also, she looked like this:

I thought I couldn't be beautiful unless I looked like them. A part of me still does. I struggle with my body image ever single day. By allowing this sort of art to continue, this is what we're telling young women.

If we don't stand up and say this isn't okay, who will?

*Much thanks to my friend and fellow writer Jazz Sexton for sharing the Hines post with me. You can check out her blog Write the World here. Go say hello!

The Original Bro

2012-01-10T08:27:00.001-05:00

Last night while I was lying in bed, unable to fall asleep (stupid brain), I realized something.

Gaston from Beauty and the Beast might just be the original Bro.

Consider the following:

Aaaand......discuss.

Monday Morning: Pretty Things to Look At

2012-01-09T09:22:00.002-05:00

Good morning, Reader. Well, mostly good anyway.

I am already off my new schedule....of course I MADE the schedule but whatever. I also spilled coffee over the counter this morning. You could look at this one of two ways:

1. The Jennifer Way: "Wasted coffee AND I have to spend precious minutes sopping it all up. Today is RUINED!"

2. The Curt Way: "A reason to clean the counters! Plus there's plenty of coffee left and you can always get more."

Which way do you think I saw it?

...

Okay, fine, it's Monday. We're all feeling a little less productive and graceful and focused than we had promised ourselves we would be on Friday, when the weekend was stretched out before us like a manicured lawn. We are perhaps colder than we would like to be, we are hungrier and more tired and less motivated.

We are all in this together.

So, without further ado, here is some Pretty to sooth you, courtesy of my twin sister Melissa, who loves all things design and all things small and cozy.

Behold, reading nooks! Let's all imagine we have reading nooks in our houses (even if the houses themselves are dream houses/ apartments/ tree houses/ hobbit holes).

You can see these and more at one of Melissa's favorite blogs, Elements of Style.

What would your reading nook look like? Mine would need a window, preferably with diamond panes, and soft blankets, and tartan, and LOTS of shelf space.

Whenever Monday tries to get me down today, I'm going to take a deep breath and spend a few moments designing my nook. I just added a fold out, secretary desk in the wall below my bookshelves, perfect for a laptop, so that my reading nook can also be a writing nook. What about you?

I Can't Wait for My New Cheekbones

2012-01-06T10:24:00.000-05:00

Something horrifying happened yesterday.

Warning: This story contains a reference to when I had Mono. I KNOW. I never shut up about it. You'd think it was the defining moment of my life. Granted, it was really bad and not everyone can say they had Mono on their honeymoon, which makes for a great but ultimately depressing story, and I'd only been an editorial assistant for a month at the time and I was convinced they were going to fire me, and also my pee looked like blood (too far?), but...okay, I'll shut up now.

I was talking to a woman and I said, "I had Mono in my twenties..."

IN MY TWENTIES.

Reader, I am still IN my twenties, for, like, three more WEEKS. Let's not rush things.

Basically, I always feel like I'm a year older as soon as we hit New Year's, since my birthday is only a few weeks after (Holla back, fellow Aquarians!). But that was the first time those words had passed my lips and it made me a little sad, I'm not going to lie.

Then later I went to the store with Curt and I didn't bring my purse because it is so annoying to have your purse on your shoulder shoved up over your winter coat, am I right, Ladies? I needed to buy a bottle of wine but they wouldn't let us because I didn't have my license even though CURT had his with him. And then I got really really testy and started muttering to myself about adding insult to injury, which means I'm starting to talk to myself in public.

Yesterday someone I know said, "GOD, it makes me feel old to know that you're so old."

Me too, brother. Me. Too.

Anyway, there is one bright spot in all of this, and that is that when I turn thirty, I'm going to get cheekbones!

Yep. See, way way back in 2002, when I had been a youthful, baby-faced twenty-year-old for all of five months, I was reading about Naomi Watts in People magazine's Most Beautiful issue and she said this, "I don't think I came into any attractiveness until I was in my late 20s. I had a moon face and my mum kept saying, 'Oh, your cheekbones will come,' and finally they arrived."

You can read the article here.

And I remember thinking to myself, "Oh good, that'll be my consolation prize for turning thirty. Maybe I'll finally get some visible bone structure up in this face."

The cheekbones have yet to make an appearance but I'm prit-tee sure that any day now I'm going to wake up and look like Naomi Watts and won't that be fun?

....

Sigh.

Right now I sort of hate twenty-year-old me.

(Delusional) Author Sighting

2012-01-05T11:23:00.001-05:00

Today I thought I was feeling healthy enough to get back to kickboxing after a couple weeks off. I don't always take the morning class and many faces are still new to me.

Guess who walked in today?
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Kristin Cashore, author of Graceling, Fire, and Bitterblue!!!!

YES! It was really her, Reader!

Reader, come on, it was her! I'm sure of it!

I don't care that her bio claims she's currently living in Cambridge, MA. It. Was. Her.

Okay, she went by "Beth" but that's just an alias, so no one would know who she was and pester her with autographs while she was perfecting her roundhouse kick.

After she walked in and I was staring at her for a while, she definitely gave me a look and I'm pretty sure that look said, "Hi Jennifer, I love your blog and I can't wait for you to finish your novel. All the best writers kickbox. Hey, let's keep my identity a secret, just between really awesome kickboxing writers, okay?"

It's no surprise, then, that Cashore's most recent blog post is about health and fitness. She's probably researching for her next book!!!

Seriously, Reader, it was her.

New Year, New Look

2012-01-04T15:42:00.003-05:00

Wooo, Reader, check me out with my MULTIPLE TABS. It's getting prittee fancy up in here. Yep, it's a new year and I thought that justified spending a little time to clean this place up a bit. It's not perfect, just a work in progress. Thoughts?

I just want you to know that this is an incredibly fragile time for me. Reader, lean closer across the proverbial table, over our coffee mugs, so I can tell you a secret: I am addicted to workout DVD infomercials.

Yes.

I love them. I love the testimonials. I love the possibility of changing your whole life in 90 days. It's hopeful and inspiring and sometimes (okay, often) unrealistic. Whatever. I love it. And you know what probably sells like crazy this time of year? Yep, workout DVDs and gym memberships. Those infomercials are on all. the. time.

Add to that the fact that I've had some insomnia again lately, which I'm blaming on Nyquil.

So let's review: Me + insomnia + late night TV + workout DVD addiction + January = Temptation!

Pray for me.

(I wanted to blog more today, but I spent an inordinate amount of time on sprucing up the formatting when I should really be a. Reading admissions apps, b. Cleaning up the post-sickness mess in my apartment, or c. Oh right, working on my novel. Whoops.)

Happy New Year

2011-12-31T17:55:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year, Reader! I am writing this during one of my good periods when my brain isn't all fuzzy. I've been sick since just after Christmas and, as you may know by now, when I get sick, I am aiming to get an A+ in sick!!

Okay, not really. At least, not by choice. I would much rather get an A+ in "getting better." But no matter how many fluids I chug or how much sleep I get (this time I even attempted a nettie pot), it doesn't matter. After Mono, about 1 out of every three colds I get is like mini Mono, so I sleep a lot and feel like a zombie.

Talk about a hot New Year's date, am i right?

Curt and I had plans to visit our friends in Vermont, who renovated an old barn into a fabulous home. We were all set to cozy up to their new wood stove with their adorable dogs and just hang out, probably toasting the holiday with ice cream. Alas, it was not to be. I'm just glad Curt doesn't seem bummed out—he's hard to bum out.

Instead, we're celebrating the holiday the way we've done so many times before: with video games and takeout!In general I hate New Year's. Wow, what a moderate statement, huh? I find it depressing. Are all writers totally obsessed with the passing of time? I know I am. Anyway, I'm trying not to dwell on it this year. It helps that my brain is sort of fried at the moment and everything is pleasantly fuzzy.

So cheers to your health on the eve of the new year. Here's to NOT making resolutions we can't keep. And here's to indulging in the occasional double negative and loving it! Here's to chasing our dreams for another year. Here's to making the best of it, even if that means toasting with Nyquil rather than cocktails.

Here's to a new adventure!

A Holiday Sketch For You, Reader

2011-12-23T12:06:00.000-05:00

And There Was Much Rejoicing

2011-12-16T08:23:00.000-05:00

Good morning, Reader. It's a very good morning! What, you don't believe me? Let me prove it:

1. The auction Magick for Terri raised a staggering $71, 327 for Terri, Tilly, and her family.

I won a beautiful Bordertown necklace that reads, "A true story, Elfland." I like that because I'm fixated on the idea of the true story (I don't mean what the history books tell you, I mean the real story in your heart) and also I just love the word Elfland. It makes me think of my favorite book The King of Elfland's Daughter.

Also, my cookies raised $90!!!!!!!!!! Ninety dollars for cookies! And the recipe. And some other little surprises which have not yet been accumulated. As my mom told me, "You better make it really special."

Yes, Mom, thank you. She didn't say, "Wow, that's amazing, I'm so proud of you." She was concerned that I was going to disappoint the bidder, the person who willingly paid that much for cookies.

No, my family is totally not hard on each other or ourselves. Why do you ask?

2. I actually worked on my novel yesterday! That hasn't happened in possibly three weeks. It's been really getting me down. Yesterday afternoon I did some cutting and rearranging and then I reorganized the chapter breaks just to make myself feel better.

I love when your Beta is all, "Hmm, I'm just not sure about this....could you maybe change it?"
And you turn and look at the novel and the novel is hopping up and down and going, "HEEEREEEE! Change it heerrrreeee! Why doesn't anyone ever listen to me?"

The problem of course being that novels can't talk except in dreams and dreams are so easy to forget. Novel, next time just tell it to me in a dream about giant spiders. Better yet, have the spider tell me herself, all Weaver (Perdido Street Station by China Mieville) style.That will definitely get my attention.

3. ???????????
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CUTE HEDGEHOG ATTACK

BAM! I bet you didn't see that one coming.

Whattup, Cute Hedgehog?

CH: Happy Friday, y'all.

Best Tumblr Yet

2011-12-15T16:29:00.002-05:00

Ryan Gosling + YA books = Genius

Ch-ch-check it OUT here

Here's my favorite so far: because, Reader, anything can happen at the school dance!

Holiday Gifts for the Nerdy, Book-Loving Woman

2011-12-14T17:55:00.001-05:00

Here are some ideas for gifts you can give to the bibliophile woman in your life, limited, of course, by my reading preferences. Warning: I haven't labored over this, I'm just throwing out some ideas I had. I'll add more if they come to me. This is by no means a comprehensive gift guide!!

1. The Woman Who Will Always Be Little Red Riding Hood

Book: Little Red Riding Hood Uncloaked: Sex, Morality, and the Evolution of a Fairy Tale

Gift: Gorgeous Linzor Hood from Anthropologie: Perfect for lunch with Grandma or a date with the huntsman—or wolf, whichever she prefers.

2. The Woman Who Loves His Dark Materials Series by Philip Pullman

Book: The His Dark Materials Omnibus just released Dec 6, 2011.

Sure, it must be REALLY heavy, but that cover is to die for. I'm drooling all over my keyboard as we speak.

Gift: (Not exactly for grown women, but is this not SO incredibly cool??) Netto's Polar Bear Rocker

3. The Woman Who Wants to Be Karou

Book: Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

Wait for my contest, which will feature a hardcover signed copy OR buy it yourself, if you haven't already!

Gift: A wishbone necklace (readers will know why.)

You can find many lovely versions in silver or gold on Etsy. I like this one by Lisa Loren (shown).

4. The Woman Who Will Always Love Fairy Tales

The Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm published by Taschen Books. Gorgeous book for a long-time fairy tale reader, or a first timer.

[Edited 12.15.11]
Gift: When shopping for the fairy tale girl, the question is not what to get, but where to begin? She may be shy, she may be demure. She may kick around in old jeans and never wear makeup. And yet, secretly, she is a princess.

Oh, I just upped the ante now, didn't I? You're shopping for a princess! But don't despair. Here are several ideas that will surprise and delight her.

1. An extravagant headdress: Don't think it's her style? That's only because she's in disguise. She may never dare to wear one of these lovelies at a ball for fear of giving herself away, but there's nothing wrong with dressing up for a Saturday night in with a good book!

Here are a few headdresses I like:

a. Star Chylde Golden Crystal Stars and Bronze Chain Headpiece Headdress by Raven Eve Jewelry on Etsy for $38.00.

b. Blue Bead and Silver Chain Headdress by BOHOBO Collective on Etsy for $48.00.

2. Shoe Clips: Because every princess needs a special pair of shoes and these clips ensure that even the simplest peasant flat has a bit of faerie godmother magic.

Pom Pom Shoe Clips from BHLDN (available in many colors)for $25.00

3. Toadstool: Maybe she's a wild woodland princess, who doesn't like fancy shoes or jewels. In that case, perhaps she'd like a toadstool of her own!

Mushroom Pouf at Anthropologie for $138.00. (It's 15" high)

5. The Dragon Rider...I mean, ReaderDespite the obvious fire hazards, bibliophiles and dragons can't help but fall in love. Every book-loving woman needs a trusty dragon companion, don't you think?

Book:There are too many to list! The dragon-loving reader might feel a kinship with Cimorene from Dealing with Dragons and the rest of the series by Patricia C. Wrede (now available as a boxed set), or perhaps at heart she's a dragon rider of Pern in Anne McCaffrey's beloved series. Then again, she might, deep down, be Danaerys from George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire, or September from Catherynne M. Valente's The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making.

Gift: Handknit Dragon Hatchling by Sweet Bauer Knits on Etsy.

6. Women Who Run—I mean, read—with Wolves

Book: She might be Team Jacob, or maybe she prefers Sam from Maggie Steifvater's Wolves of Mercy Falls, or maybe she's a fan of Nick from Carrie Jones' Need series.Maybe, she loves them all. It takes more than one wolf to make a pack, right?

Gift: For this woman, why not give her a wolf of her very own? Through the World Wildlife Fund, you can adopt a gray wolf for as little as $25.(Image borrowed from the WWF site)

Coming Attractions

2011-12-14T10:21:00.000-05:00

Hi there, Reader. I have fallen off the blogging wagon lately, mostly because of my new job and because I'm desperately hoping to complete the YA revision of my novel before my 30th birthday which (EEK) is skulking and sighing on the other side of the new year.

This week, I'm determined to come back to you. Here's what you can expect from me today and later this week:
1. Highlights from my trip to New York this past weekend, including a trip to the SECRET BOOKSTORE. (As a rule, secrets should probably never appear in all caps. Please read it as a hoarse, loud whisper.)

2. Earlier I introduced you to my Dashwood Book Reviews, but I've got a new idea: the One and Done. I have a pile of books glaring at me and demanding to be reviewed. I know exactly what I'd say to a friend if he/she asked me whether or not they should read this or that book. So why not just say that to you?

I'll be tearing through the book pile and reviewing each book in 1-3 sentences. If anyone out there wants a more thorough review, just comment on the forthcoming post and I'll happily oblige. Plan? Oh, we have one.

3. I have ONE MORE post up my sleeve from my previous life at the used book store in Vermont. Yes! One last book I've been holding back. I'll be sharing that with you this week. Maybe even today!

4. The long promised giveaway for Daughter of Smoke and Bone. Just in time for Christmas!

5. Gift Guide: Book and Gift combos for the readers in your life.

Methinks I've overextended myself. Well, I will do my best not to let you (or myself) down!!! Now, back to admission reading so I have time to blog later.

Magick 4 Terri

2011-12-02T18:11:00.001-05:00

Hi, Reader. Sorry I haven't been blogging much. I wonder if it's pretty typical this time of year. Many people do NaNoWriMO and then get swept up in holiday chaosity (new word: chaos + jollity, of course). Maybe I'm no different.

Also, everything has felt hard this week. I'm pretty sure I'm fighting some sort of cold/ virus/ whatever. I'm sort of happy because for the past five years after I had Mono, there was no such thing as fighting. I would simply get sick, for at least two weeks. Fighting wasn't an option. So in that sense, fighting makes me happy but in another, I'm constantly irritated with myself for not getting more done. The return of my old friend Insomnia hasn't helped either. I need to be a more productive insomniac, rather than one who huddles on the couch watching old movies. Anyone else have that problem?

This was my first full week as an admissions reader. I like it a lot. I'm probably not giving myself enough credit for the amount of energy it requires to learn something new with new people. It also requires me to be away from a computer for long stretches of time.

The big news this week is that friends of Terri Windling have organized an auction to help her and her family. Terri is constantly fighting a battle with chronic illness and this struggle has put major strain on her finances during these difficult times. I love Terri, would love her even if I had never met her. But since I have met her, I love her even more.

Terri has had an incredible impact on the Fantasy community. You might even say she created the community herself. That community is now coming together to help her. You can bid on all manner of wondrous things from authors, artists, and fans at Magick 4 Terri.

You can donate something to the auction too. I didn't think I had anything to offer. I'm not published (yet), I make cute stick figures but nothing like what Melissa can create (real art). I can write silly rhyming poems and song parodies but I wasn't convinced that would be of interest. So I decided to offer up a batch of my Ginger Jack cookies. Well, guess what? The current bid is at $85!!!! I am stunned. It just goes to show that even when you don't think you can help, you can.

I'm staring down a wall in my novel right now. It's not going to be easy but I guess I'm going to have to take it one word at a time. Wishing you all a weekend of love and laughter!

Anchor

2011-11-27T16:35:00.001-05:00

Generally I don't like to share too much about my personal life. Well, I'll share about myself. I'm more than willing to tell you how gross I am when I'm sick (yay, mucus!) or how neurotic/ awkward/ self conscious I can be sometimes. But when it comes to gushy stuff, I like to keep it to myself.

It's funny, I love hearing other people gush. Love it. Gush to me all you want. Share all the sickeningly sweet details. My sweet tooth is unmatched. Just...don't expect me to share right back.

This October was Curt's and my sixth wedding anniversary. And in January, we'll have been together for nine years! You guys, that's, like, a long time. Normally I might not remark on this—at least not here—but then my friend sent me this song and it made me think of Curt.

So today I'm going to allow just a little gush to come out by saying that this Thanksgiving I'm thankful for my husband Curt, who is my anchor and the sweetest guy I've ever met.

Readjustment

2011-11-16T15:27:00.001-05:00

Hey there, Reader. I feel like I've been majorly remiss in blogging lately. I still owe you countless book reviews and a giveaway. I think it's hard for me to prioritize all of that when I don't really think anyone is reading.

Not to guilt trip you, Reader. I'm just saying. I mean, honestly, does anyone out there REALLY care if I tell you what I thought of this or that book?

I feel like as a freelancer so much of my time is spent on things with no clear, immediate payoff. It doesn't bother me for a while because my brain is always vomiting up ideas and I like to be busy but then the flip will switch and I'll feel very and vaguely resentful.

In other news, I'm now an Adjunct Admissions Reader for Bates College. Huzzah! But for the last couple weeks I've been training and trying to get the hang of it, and I am so impatient. I don't want to learn how to do it. I want to already know how to do it perfectly. In fact, I want to know how to do it The Best. I have to be The Best Admissions Reader that ever did read for Bates, otherwise what's the point?

No, I'm totally not competitive. Not at all.

This is a transition period. I was told that I'd be working 30 hours a week but I don't know if that starts now or in the New Year. There are many reading periods—early decision 1 and 2 for example. Also last week they asked me if I'd be available for more than 30 hours. Immediately the overachiever in me was nodding. "Oh definitely. Sure. Whatever you want! I'm here to support you!"

I disgust myself sometimes. It's a wonder I'm still making time for my writing AT ALL. I should probably give myself credit for that, but you know me. Until the novel is finished and sold in an epic three book throwdown deal in which the agents must fight to the death like in The Hunger Games and the book is a bestseller before it's even released...only THEN will these years and years of hard work "count."

I don't know who's doing the counting. No, wait, yes I do. NO ONE. No one is counting. No one is grading me. No one except me.

Life is a balancing act. And there's no Dean's List, no Phi Beta Kappa of Living. There's no way to do it perfectly. The only way to make it count is by being a good person and by living your life the way you want. I know this but sometimes....sometimes I forget.

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor

2011-11-14T10:28:00.001-05:00

Okay, confession time: a few days ago I was telling Curt that while I love following casting decisions and seeing the actors in character for novels-turned-movies, I tend not to care about the movies themselves.

And then I watched this a couple minutes ago. It's the official trailer for The Hunger Games. Have you already seen it?

I know that my relationship with this series ended in a really bitter, messy breakup. You can read how it went down here but be forewarned there are spoilers all over the place.

But you never forget how that first book makes you feel, you know? I thought I was passively curious. Now? Now I'm freaking. Out.

Heart racing, sick to my stomach—pretty much the same way I felt while reading that first book. RUE, you guys. Forget the love triangle. You know how I feel about Rue.

Please to enjoy:

Chapter Update: Lucky 13

2011-11-07T18:43:00.000-05:00

I believe the last time I updated you on my novel progress, it was way back at Chapter 9? Well, we are way past that, my friend. Granted, I made some chapters shorter than usual to give the reader some breathing room. Even so, guess what chapter I just finished???

LUCKY CHAPTER 13!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It did not feel like a particularly lucky chapter. In fact, it felt hard and slow and painful and hard and slow. And hard.Also slow.And technically I'm mid scene so....this is not over.

BUT! I am thrilled to announce that a straight up awesome angsty teen scene has made itself known. I did not expect it or plan it but it's totally happening, you guys. Normally I kind of hate when authors are all, "Oh then I was like, 'omg! I can't believe my story is doing this to me! Whatever shall I do? I am but the hand that records this bestselling story.'"

Or something like that.

But this idea sort of came out of nowhere. Like, hey I'm bored. Let's throw all the characters into each other and see what happens! Yay! Plus some teen angst. It's like a high school dance except with a faerie ring and stuff. Pretty. Sweet.

Just wanted to give you an update! Can I get a Huzzah up in here?

Friday: Take a Moment. Or Seven.

2011-11-04T10:28:00.002-04:00

Happy Friday!

First of all, watch this. Please.

FUTURE PROOF from The DMCI on Vimeo.

I also encourage you to spend half your lunch break reading Catherynne Valente's wonderful new story "The Bread We Eat in Dreams" in Apex here.

I actually dreamed about a good friend last night and it turned out that today is his birthday (I am very bad at remembering birthdays). In the dream, we were about to go to a party. I like to think that our dreamselves are there now, laughing and dancing with all of our friends.

Speaking of dream parties, why not put on a floaty dress or a mask. Spin around in a circle.

And do whatever you need to do to shake it out.

Gratitude

2011-11-03T15:46:00.000-04:00

Last night I couldn't sleep again. Lately it's been so easy to let life overwhelm me. It's always high tide and the waves are always crashing over the walls, I guess.

But today I'm going to try and focus on gratitude. Here's a list of good things in my life today:
1. I went to get pumpkin coffee but left with French Vanilla. Oh, hello French Vanilla goodness. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?

2. It's warm! Like, in the 60s. The snow is mostly gone at last. The sunshine feels warm, the sky is blue, and best of all, I can smell the earth. Oh how I will miss that smell when everything is frozen for the winter.

3. Had a great yoga class today. No head stands, thankfully, but some bridge/ backbends and lots of balance work, which I like. Today I felt good in my body. It reminded me of how only a couple years ago, my body felt entirely foreign to me. Whether you have an injury, an ongoing body/ food issue, or illness, it can be so painful to feel disconnected from yourself. Today I'm saying, "Thank you, Body."

Finally, if you're on Goodreads, I hope you'll friend me. I joined ages ago, put a bunch of books on my list and then never went back. Well, now I'm back for good!

With my friend Faye, I'm going to be running a Goodreads book group for Sirens, the conference I attend every October. I'll also be posting about local author/ book events and am hoping to encourage other people to share events in their area.

So if you're interested in women in Fantasy literature, I hope you'll check out the Sirens Group and introduce yourself on the Intro Thread! It's open to everyone. I just go by Jennifer Ambrose on the site, just so you know.

If you've been a monster grump this week, I hope you take a few minutes to make a gratitude list, to walk outside, and—if you're lucky—smell the earth.

As ever, be kind to yourselves.

Monster Grump.

2011-11-01T11:13:00.000-04:00

Hello, Reader. I've been in a total grump slump since Sunday night. I keep saying I have no idea why, but now that I think about it, it's pretty obvious:

1. I saw my parents for a few hours on Saturday and now I miss them.

2. I'm worried about my family. Most of them live in Connecticut and are currently without power. They are very cold and this makes me sad.

3. There is STILL SNOW ON THE GROUND from the storm over the weekend. I like winter (mostly) but...it's just. I can't. It's too soon! Too soon I say!

4. I'm in a Rivendell chapter in my novel. It's one of those, everyone needs to recover and figure out what the Hell they're going to do now. That's means lots of Conversations and emotional shifts. No exciting chase scenes or zexy, flirtatious scenes or anything else that's super exciting to write. Instead it's all difficult groundwork for the rest of the story and you guys it's soooo haaaaaaaard.

5. There was nothing to eat for breakfast, so I had a couple leftover Hershey bars dipped in peanut butter. Someone save me from myself!!!

I have yoga class in an hour. Thanks to some show-off, we'll be doing a handstand workshop. I hate handstands. I took dance class starting at seven or eight years old and continued to dance through college. And how did I get into dance in the first place? Because I sucked so bad at gymnastics and every girl in my elementary school did gymnastics.

Basically anytime my butt has to change places with my head, I have problems. Go figure. So this class will either readjust my mood for the better and leave me feeling very zen, or will magnify my grump slump tenfold.

In other news, happy first day of NaNoWriMo. I signed up, but really only so I can reap the benefits of the word counter chart things and all the momentum. I'm desperately hoping to finish my rewrite of The Charmed Bracelet by the end of the year, so that means I need to make a real push through November. If any of you are going to participate, I hope you friend me! I'm JenniferWriter.

Okay, time to head back to Rivendell. The only true cure for a grump slump (for me, anyway) is progress and productivity.

Anything Can Happen on Halloween

2011-10-31T10:22:00.001-04:00

Happy Halloween! Halloween is so magical. It's the essence of what I love about fall, this bittersweet intermingling of life and death, Autumn and Winter. Vibrant leaves and small, bright berries against the naked branches and silent snow.

And as for the mingling of life and death, Curt and I had a nice long spinning around in the car on Saturday night while we drove home from a costume party in a snow storm. It was slow, like a graceful, impromptu dance in the middle of the snowy road. Thankfully no cars were near us at the time and we managed to not hit a guard rail or slide off the road.

No, Death just spun us around the dance floor, bowed, and let us continue on our way.

Other reasons I love Halloween are that I dress as I please. On Saturday I was a gypsy and I really felt like one. A confident strut entered my step and I found myself wishing I could dress in skirts and scarves and colored tights more often (and why can't I? I don't know.)

Today I decided to wear my black sparkly tights, because if you won't wear them on Halloween, then what is the point of owning them at all?

I've also decided to start the day with some candy. I've been congratulating myself on my festive attitude.

By the way, has anybody seen my tambourine??

Last year's Halloween, it seems, was more pensive and you can read my post here, which includes a link to Terri Windling's 2010 Halloween post. And here is a link to her post for this year. Both of her posts are short and magical and well worth a read.

Happy Halloween, Gentle Reader. If Death asks you to dance, be courteous. And do not step on her toes.

Where Does the Time Go?

2011-10-26T16:17:00.000-04:00

Doesn't it seem like as the day's get shorter and darker, that time is speeding up? It's like we're hurtling towards winter and then suddenly SWOOP, we're frozen in a dark dreamplace for five months. It sounds kind of nice, doesn't it?

Anyway, listen, Reader. I keep making empty promises about book reviews and then disappearing.

I know this. You know this.

I don't have much of an excuse, really. I haven't been reading and I haven't been writing book reviews or feeling remotely interested in doing so. And this is where I am at least learning to recognize something going on in my subconscious as a writer. Sometimes I binge read like CRAZY, like don't-leave-the-couch-unless-my-bladder-commands-it sort of crazy. Other times I don't read at all, which makes me sad.

But this is part of the process. My brain is working on things right now. I'm into brand new territory in my novel. I don't have the rest of this thing mapped out. All I know is the general end point (which seems bent on wobbling around just to mess with me) and a couple stops along the way.

And I keep getting ideas and crazy images and mostly I'm just sort of shocked and freaked out and excited to realize that this story, which has changed and grown and been rewritten so much, can still surprise me. It makes me happy to know I haven't beaten it dead. It's definitely alive and kicking me in the butt.

So please forgive me as I work these things out. I will come back, I promise. I'm still here, just sort of in an idea fog. And also I have Boring Life Things to deal with. Because seriously if I don't register my car in Maine before Thanksgiving not only will I be technically breaking the law but my dad will FREAK. OUT.

Wishing you all a wonderful week so far. Remember, I'm still doing a giveaway for Laini Taylor's Daughter of Smoke and Bone very very soon....

Oh, and what are you going to be for Halloween??

Elinor Book Review: Malinda Lo's Ash

2011-10-19T09:41:00.000-04:00

Ash by Malinda Lo is a lovely book. The whole time I read it, I felt like I was in a floaty world surrounded by mist. In that sense, it's a true fairy tale. This is due, in part, to Lo's writing style. It's beautiful but restrained. I didn't feel very connected to Ash because for me everything was held at a blurry distance, like an old photograph. This is not a criticism, just an observation.

I felt that this distance allowed Lo to explore some pretty dark themes, such as suicide, with a light touch. As with the old fairy tales, a younger reader could read this story and only skim the surface of what the characters were feeling. An older reader would be able to appreciate the nuances. I actually felt that despite the heavier themes due to Ash's sad childhood, this was a younger YA book.

You may have also heard that it's a LESBIAN retelling of Cinderella. That makes for a nice hook, I suppose, but it's also a narrow way to describe the story. The development of the relationship between Ash and Kaisa, the King's huntress, felt natural and sweet. In contrast to Ash's relationship with the fairy prince, Kaisa was grounded, warm, real. In my opinion, the story is not about whether or not Ash likes boys or girls, it's whether or not Ash will choose to live or die (by forsaking her human life for the Fairy realm).

I read this book very quickly. It was like a spell settled over me and I had to read until I was done—not in a heart-pounding way, but in a dreamy, mesmerized sort of way. It just sort of happened, page after beautiful page, until I was done.

Ash didn't stay with me too sharply, but I attribute that to two things: the book's style and my age. I think this book would really seize a younger reader and like I said, the darker themes are beautifully muted so that the reader can decide how deeply to experience them.

I would happily recommend this to fairy tale lovers of any age, and middle school to high school readers.

The Dashwoods of Book Reviews

2011-10-19T08:57:00.000-04:00

Good morning! I'm not totally a morning person. I would rather stay up all night and sleep until, say, 11 AM maybe. Also I would like to need less sleep. Something to think about as you draft my Christmas list this year, hmm?

Normally I fritter away the morning, but since I owe you so many book reviews, I decided to commit my mornings to the reviews until they are done.

First, I wanted to go over the basics of my reviews. I review in one of two ways: with my immediate reaction within 24 hours of finishing a book, which we will from hereon refer to as the Marianne, or over a month afterward, now known as Elinor. I try to always tell you what kind of review I'm giving you, because I think each style offers a slightly different perspective on the book.

Marianne

The Marianne review tells you how the book might make you feel when you are done, ie buoyed up with joy or barely restraining yourself from throwing said book out the window. The plot threads and characters are still bright in my mind so you might think that this is the most accurate review I could give and in some ways, that's true. However, having just closed the book, I tend to have very strong feelings for it and may get carried away with my emotions.

Elinor

The Elinor review tells you how I view a book from a comfortable distance. Did it stay with me? Have I forgiven the book for a minor issue that infuriated me when I first finished the story but with time has since proven to have been a—dare I say it—necessary aspect of the plot? What is the book's lasting impression and how does it make me feel over time? In hindsight, was it worth reading?

There you have it: The Dashwood book reviews. Any questions?

Squirrels v. Starks

2011-10-18T14:17:00.000-04:00

I've noticed lately that squirrels around here are getting pretty brazen. Earlier today there was a little squirrel eating right in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked so cute that I didn't want to interrupt, so I crossed the street.

I crossed the street. To avoid a squirrel.

What!?

I know, it's crazy. But he looked so sure of himself, his little white haunches bristling. It looked like he belonged there. And he's not the only one. The squirrels don't even notice me anymore when I walk past. That's how single-minded they are about eating everything in sight.

Every time I see one, I think about winter. The squirrels obviously know it's coming because they have come to the accurate conclusion that Winter is scarier and more dangerous than humans.

I'm going to say that one more time: Squirrels understand that Winter is scarier than humans.

Do you realize what this means!????

It means that the average squirrel is smarter than EVERY SINGLE (living) PERSON in Westeros*.

(Image available as a tshirt from redbubble.com)

*Reference to George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series. But then, you knew that already, didn't you?

Shape-shifting Burglar

2011-10-17T21:00:00.000-04:00

I just got back from kickboxing class. You may know I'm a certified cardio kickboxing instructor but at the moment I'm happily taking a contact class (with a bag and gloves) at a local dojo. It's the same place where I took class nine years ago (gulp!) when I was in college.

Just before we leave, the teacher tells us that apparently the police are searching the area for a burglar. They even have dogs with them, which makes me wonder if "burglar" was not the whole story. Right? I mean, there must be more to it than a petty thief.

Or is that just my tendency to jump to the worst possible scenario? (It's a more-than-healthy dose of paranoia that I like to call "being prepared.")

Anyway, despite the fact that all of us women have just spent the last hour beating up on a bag while the teacher instructed us to "Aim for the kidneys!" and "Grab his head and pull it into your knee!" we all quietly wait until we're all ready to leave so we can go together.

There is one man in the class tonight, who also practices karate at the dojo. He very sweetly monitors the (not very big but heavily wooded) parking lot to make sure we all get to our cars safely.

Can I just say how much I love people like that? This is why I love dorky guys. They grow up on a Fantasy book diet and want to be heroes and protect people. I want to protect people, too. If more of us wanted that, we'd all be a lot safer.

Okay, right. Story. So, we walk outside and I crack a joke about the irony of said kickboxing girls in a huddle but the laughter fades as we realize that not only is there a police car idling beside the parking lot, but a SHERIFF's jeep sweeping the lot as well.

Yikes, maybe I wasn't being paranoid after all! I clutch my keys and hurry to my car. This is when I remember that horrible urban legend about the guy in the back of the car who keeps rising up to cut off the driver's head with a cleaver and the car behind him keeps flashing his lights to try and warn the driver.

Very helpful, brain. Thank you for reminding me of that.

I turn on my car and my headlights. That's when I catch sight of him: a lanky red fox loping into the woods. No one else saw him but me.

I can't help but smile to myself. I have a soft spot for foxes. Someone should tell the policemen that they're not going to find their thief tonight.

Not of they're looking for a MAN, anyway.

(photo credit: wildnatureimages.com)

To Chapter 12...and Beyond!

2011-10-13T22:02:00.000-04:00

You guys, I'm having PLOT THOUGHTS. I didn't tell you (because my computer was not speaking to the internet for a couple weeks), but I fought my way to the cliff of Chapter 11 and I jumped!

That's right, I'm currently falling through space.

I got to the point in my revision where something Big and Bad, like super really bad, happens. This did not happen in the old draft because I was TOO SCARED. And now? Now it's done.

And it's totally cool!

But it means that from now on, the "revision" is moving into uncharted territory!! I've been digging in my heels about it. I thought it was all fear. Now I think it's just my secret self whispering at me to slow down, draw a damn map for a change and maybe figure out where the heck I'm going.

I sat Curt down tonight to talk through some stuff. Curt is very good at this. He asks all these annoying, really smart questions and then he lets me answer them and suddenly I can see a little further ahead than I could before. Lots of Things are happening in my head. I'm not quite sure where I'm going yet but at least I'm starting to realize that I'm not standing on one meager path.

Oh no, there's a TON of paths all curling out from under my feet. Some are worn down grass, some are stone, some are bread crumbs and all of them are calling to me. I just hope I figure out which is the right one. And soon. It's dark out here in the woods. I mean in the air. I mean—curses!This metaphor has a mind of its own, not to mention this novel...

Images from Sirens 2011

2011-10-13T10:31:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to share some of my photos from Sirens this year. I'll get to the book reviews soon...possibly today. Yes, today. Definitely...

Pretty berries...never did I see a cluster of berries I could resist. I have many MANY photos of berries...but these have SNOW!

Here's a shot of some of my clever, creative companions walking through Vail Village:

Here I am, feeling up a bear statue in Vail. Look, there was a lot of boob talk at Sirens. Basically I don't like it when the woman with ample boobs always have it easy while the flat chested girls have all the personality. Growing up, I had big boobs and yet I was not the Homecoming Queen or the most popular girl in school or confident and comfortable with my body. So, it's one of my pet peeves.

Naturally, this led to me feeling up a bear statue.

Don't worry, she was totally cool with it.

Creepy, eerie early morning walk with snow. Yes, I DID turn back because it was just a tad too creepy for me. And also slippery.

And finally, the mountains with snow and gold:

More pics to come...of monstrous women in costume! Don't miss it.

I'm Home...Sort Of

2011-10-12T19:02:00.000-04:00

Hello, Reader! So, I'm back from Sirens and I still have internet access. Things are looking up!

I had a great time at the conference this year. The guests of honor were Justine Larbalestier (How to Ditch Your Fairy, Liar), Nnedi Okorafor (Who Fears Death, Zahrah the Wind Seeker, Akata Witch), and Laini Taylor (Lips Touch Three Times, Dreamdark, Daughter of Smoke and Bone).

Here they are (in that order, left to right)

I was especially excited about meeting Laini for a couple reasons. One, Daughter of Smoke and Bone was one of my favorite books this year. Two, I see similarities in our writing styles (not to claim I'm like her/ as good as her/ whatever, but I admire her writing). And three, she apparently is a "slow" writer like I am AND she has a cute family and seems like a happy person...like me! Or at least, that's how I'd like to be. If we could both be fast writers, that would be nice too.

It's just nice to see someone that is sort of like you. I mean, I had a major girl crush/ OMG please be my friend sort of thing for Holly Black last year, but I didn't think we were similar. She is awesome and I want to have spiked coffee with her but I am not as cool as Holly. Alas, no.

This year rather than forgo food and sleep in favor of programming, I decided to relax a little. That meant I went in the hot tub several times, spent quality time in Vail Village, and generally enjoyed myself at the luxurious Vail Cascade Hotel (GO THERE. Seriously, it's so nice!) My brain wasn't buzzing as much as last year, but I think I struck a better balance.

The weirdest thing has been coming home. First of all, it took me OVER 25 hours to get from Colorado to Maine. This was mostly because of flight times. I knew this was going to happen in advance, yet it still sucked even more than I was expecting. Not. Fun.

And then finally, huzzah! Home at last!

Except, amidst traveling to Boston two weeks ago and then Sirens, I sort of forgot that I don't really have a home yet. The place where I'm living is not permanent. And we've only been here for a couple months. Plus, as you know, a lot of my stuff is still packed up, not the least of which are our books.

So, it's not really Home.

See, I'm orbiting Bates campus. Bates, where I went to school and where the door to my life was blown open and where I felt so welcome and happy. I find myself skirting the edges when I go for a walk. It's weird. It's just, when I walk through campus, I see the ghosts of what once was. Oh, that's where I met so-and-so for the first time. That's where I did this and this and this...

It's an odd feeling. Like maybe the way Pluto feels, wandering in a familiar pattern yet not quite welcome any more by the rest of the solar system. Oh sure, Pluto can keep on keepin' on. No one is going to stop her, but none of the other planets will talk to her now, not when anyone is looking. She won't get invited to the Planetary Club after school. There's a certain social order among planets, you know. People would talk.

I promise I will catch you up on my overdue book reviews! And to make it up to you, I'm going to do a giveaway of a SIGNED copy of Daughter of Smoke and Bone. And I'll post some Sirens pics. And I'll perform a couple miracles too. Hell, maybe I'll even buy an ironing board.

WHO KNOWS.

I'm back, Baby. In the words of Kevin Garnett, "Anything is possible."

Tadaa!

2011-10-05T10:46:00.000-04:00

Check it out, Reader: I'm BACK! My computer refused to turn on for a few weeks and I thought I was going to have to throw myself off a cliff because what is the point of living if I can't watch Charlie the Unicorn, Lobster Magnet, and Alex Wong's Hip Hop performance with Twitch from Season 7 of SYTYCD whenever I feel like it???

And, of course, I couldn't blog. Yes, I missed you. I hope you missed me too. I noticed a distinct LACK of handwritten notes asking after my health and spiritual well being, unlike when my cleavage post

was late and you were all sending me lavender-scented death threats or, sometimes, simply a letter pressed card that said "Boobs!"

Ah, it's good to be back.

And yes I do realize I owe you a shit ton of book reviews. I just finished A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin as well as Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor, so add those to the list as well.

I love talking about books but when it comes to a Review, I find it tiring. Why can't you all just come over to my house for coffee and Ginger Jack cookies? Why, Reader?

Tragically, this is the last time you will hear from me this week, because tomorrow—in the middle of the night, no less—I'll be leaving for Colorado to attend Sirens again this year! Here's a link to posts from last year on the subject. They are not particularly organized. I should be better with my labels.

Sirens (that link takes you to their site) is a conference for women in Fantasy lit. This year's guest authors are Laini Taylor, Nnedi Okorafor, and Justine Larbalestier. Last year I had the life-changing experience of meeting Terri Windling. I also got to share an elevator with Delia Sherman and have dinner with Malinda Lo and Cindy Pon and talk to Holly Black and meet Sara Rees Brennan and...HEAD EXPLOSION.

(Faye, Me, and Juliet at Sirens 2010)

And in addition to all THAT, I got to see the hammered gold trees of Vail, relax in a hot tub, dress like a twilight faerie, and make some very awesome friends. AND on top of that, get my head buzzing with incredibly thoughtful discussions on women characters in Fantasy literature.

(Pretty leaves from Sirens 2010)

I can't WAIT to see what happens this year, and to share it with all of you. I'll be back next week with plenty to say. Until then, be kind to yourselves.

Approaching the Cliff

2011-09-16T11:57:00.000-04:00

I'm approaching the end of Chapter 9 in my revision. I'm also getting to the point where this stops being a revision and diverges into a new novel.

It's the same characters, ending up in the same place, BUT any sentence now they won't just be walking down a modified path. It'll be a new path entirely.

I'm skimming through the old path right now, trying to figure out what stays and what goes and where to build in the new. And what the new will be.

The new path is unfinished. It cuts into a dark, dense part of the woods I've never been to before. It's full of shadows and secrets.

I'm excited. But scared.

Boycott Straw Dogs

2011-09-13T15:18:00.000-04:00

Okay, I'm breaking my promise. Again. But I couldn't sleep last night because of this and then the computer wouldn't turn on so I couldn't vent about it until now.

Let me get straight to the point: You should boycott the movie Straw Dogs.

The Straw Dogs trailer has been freaking me out so I decided to look up the plot. I learned that it's actually a remake (great—just what we need: another remake) of a movie made in 1971 and starring Dustin Hoffman. That film in turn was based on a novel entitled The Siege of Trencher's Farm by Gordon Williams.

The movie is about a young couple: a non-confrontational mathematician and his liberal-minded wife (remember, the movie came out in 1971). They move to her native Cornwall to escape the anti-war protests in the US. Tension builds between the couple because the husband David expects his wife Amy to perform traditional wifely tasks, which she doesn't necessarily want to do because she's, like, liberated and stuff. At the same time, David isn't interested in performing traditional masculine tasks due to his work.

The locals don't like David and his non-manly pursuits. They do, however, like his attractive young wife, who may or may not be flirting with the workers (one of whom is her former lover).

To test David, the locals kill the couple's cat by hanging it in a closet!!! What the WHAT?! Amy tells David to confront the men about it, but he refuses.

So naturally, the men rape Amy. A punishment for her independent, flirtatious attitude and her husband's lack of masculinity.

WHAT???

Some other stupid violent stuff happens, culminating in the locals besieging the couple's home. David, finally pushed to the limit, ends up killing all the men. He doesn't lose control when the men violently hurt and rape the woman he loves. No, he really gets pissed when they break into his house.

Aaaand SCENE. Seriously, that's the end.

Here's a trailer for the original film:

Here's the trailer for the remake:
I don't know how closely the remake will follow the original, but you can see the same themes, particularly when Alexander Skarsgaard says, "He's got some man in him after all." The two trailers also share the same powerlessness for the wife. In both trailers, shaking, she tells her husband that there are men outside and then looks to him to protect them both.

Supposedly this is a film about violence, about how MEN will, when forced, do anything necessary to protect their property. That society is basically a flimsy facade that could disappear in a moment.

Consider this well known quote from the movie, spoken by David at his breaking points, "This is where I live. This is me. I will not allow violence against this house."

Obviously, Amy is part of that house, that property. She has been violated. In my opinion this is portrayed more as an insult to David's masculinity than a crime against another human being. In fact, there has been an ongoing debate regarding whether or not Amy's character is shown to be ENJOYING the rape.

What the movie boils down to for me, is the director, who also co-wrote the script, warning the audience that THIS is what happens when men pursue non masculine tasks, like academia, while woman attempt to be more liberated/ masculine. Total chaos. The complete destruction of society. And of course, violence and death. The rape, again, seeming to be more of an afterthought, an extension of the man's property.

You should also know that there was NO RAPE in the novel.

WHY is this film being remade for today? Why? I don't like the implication. It makes me sick that people might want to hear this sort of message again.

Rape is not an afterthought. Rape is not a crime against a man's property, it's a violent act against a human being.

And last night, all I could think about was the rape that occurred on Bates campus in 2002 when I was a student. The victim was a fellow student and the rapist was a Maine resident named Christian Averill. He raped her in the bathroom of one of the buildings that stays open late for studying. It was during finals week when the place was packed with students.

I realized later that I had walked past that very bathroom right around when the rape was said to occur.

I walked right by. But I had no idea.

Typing those words has made me start to cry.

What also runs through my mind is the fact that I almost always stop and use the restroom before I leave a building. Friends tease me about this. I drink a lot of water. So, what if I had chosen to use that bathroom? Would it have been me instead of her? Or could I have helped her? Saved her?

I'll never know. But somehow I feel like I failed her.

Did you know I just googled the incident to see what would come up and apparently in 2006, Averill's sentence (34 years in jail) was being reconsidered. The full article written by Christopher Williams for the Sun Journal is here.

What kills me is that according to the article, Averill's lawyer George Hess, "argued that the defendant's actions did not rise to the level of 'heinous.' Had his client beaten the girl or held her hostage for a prolonged period, he might have deserved a higher sentence, Hess said."

Hess, you are scum. How dare you. You think rape doesn't qualify as heinous unless the victim gets beaten up on the OUTSIDE as well as the inside?? Unforgivable.

The problem is, he's not the only one who thinks that way. That's why people are going to go see this remake of Straw Dogs and they will talk about how man can't suppress his natural, violent self rather than talk about the rape.

This needs to change. It has to. And each of us has to be a part of that change, with the actions we take and the things we say, and the products we buy, and even the blogs we read.

Did you read that gossip bloggers were referring to Kim Kardashian as the "whore bride" during her wedding weekend? It's that kind of casual language that drives me crazy. "Whore," "slut," these are not words that we should use to describe women. Even professional prostitutes deserve better (and they should be legal and protected by the government, but that's a post for another day). She made a sex tape with her boyfriend. How does that make her a whore? And why don't we apply the same term to her boyfriend of the time, Ray Jay??

It makes me sick.

I apologize for such a dark post today, but this is such an important issue for me. I will never forgive myself for walking past that bathroom that night. Never. We can change things for the better, but we have to be aware of the problems first.

Poem in my Head

2011-09-12T14:28:00.000-04:00

Yes, I did promise myself that I wouldn't blog again until I finished all my book reviews.

Yes, I did manage to hurt my wrist last night while stupidly and randomly attempting Crow Pose at 10 PM for no good reason.(Not recommended)

Yes, I'm blogging anyway and the reason is that there is a poem stuck in my head and the Internet is not helping me find it. I read it in an absolutely wonderful book that my parents gave me years ago called A Poem a Day. I think it's this book, but I'm not positive because the cover looks different.

The issue here is that one of the poems from the book is stuck in my head but I can't remember the title or the author, and the book is somewhere in our enormous wall of book boxes, which I have sworn not to open until we move into a house.

This promise isn't going to last, let me tell you.

I will share what I believe is the final couple lines of the poem, but I wonder if memory is rewriting them for me. The central image is of a woman gathering fallen leaves in an attempt to delay Autumn even though it's impossible and it seems to also be a metaphor for either their relationship or old age. This is all a little blurry in my memory.

Here are the final lines as I remember them:
"Such a simple thing to do
For you—
For me
For a few more days of summer."

(Forgive me if I utterly butchered those lines. It's such a beautiful poem.)

If anyone recognizes the poem, please let me know!

Coming Soon: More Book Reviews!

2011-09-07T09:05:00.008-04:00

Now that my computer is alive and well, I can catch up on some long overdue book reviews! It may be a bit ambitious considering it's already Wednesday, but this week I plan to review the following books:

1. Laini Taylor's forthcoming Daughter of Smoke of Bone

2. Catherynne Valente's The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making

3. Malinda Lo's Ash

Also, guess what!?!?!?! I was one of the winners of the book giveaway from Carrie Jones, which I blogged about here! So soon I'll be reviewing her books After Obsession (co-written with Steven Wedel) and Dear Bully (co-edited with Megan Kelley Hall)

Currently I'm reading Brando Skyhorse's The Madonnas of Echo Park as well as a great collection called Fantastic Women, which includes BOTH Aimee Bender and Kelly Link. They were gifts from a friend. Huzzah for friends who send me books in the mail!!

Did You Miss Me?

2011-09-06T18:03:00.001-04:00

Reader! Hello! How are you? My computer has been working on her breathing and affirmative visualization exercises and has managed to overcome the trauma of the hurricane.

In other words, Curt figured out that some knobs had gotten loose and so we tightened them and the computer turned back on.

No, I'm not joking.

So, here is a mishmash of things from my head for your Tuesday evening enjoyment:

1.I am officially an aunt! Should I insist on being called "Auntie"? No, I don't think so, though it's tempting. I got to hold my niece and it was pretty cool. I'm still not really into the whole baby thing. I prefer kids once they can talk and walk but oh well. As babies go, my new niece is as cute as they come!

2.I was coming down with a cold but it seems to be going away and it's only been a few days! This may be the first time that has happened since I got mono way back in 2005. HA! Take THAT, Sickness. I have triumphed over thee!

Sadly (or perhaps not so sadly, depending on your tolerance for gross posts), my returning health means you will not be treated to another Consumption joke or another gruesome post about eye seepage.

3.Here's a link to the blog The Art Order, which ran a contest for artists to interpret the LOTR scene in which Eowyn fights the Nazgul. It's really fun to scroll through. I kept finding more and more that I loved, in all different styles. Here are a couple of my favorites:

4. Rhetorical Question: How can I ever enjoy Orson Scott Card again after reading this????

Answer: I just can't. I can't love you anymore, OSC. Not when you spread hate and ignorance and homophobia and bad retellings of Shakespeare. No. Just stop before my newfound indifference towards you sours into something darker.

Editor's Note: From now on OSC shall be struck from my Ongoing List of Favorite Authors. Sad Face Party.

5.Today I went to the campus HR Office to fill out paperwork because I'm helping out at the bookstore for the book rush. I was filling out my W4 and I stopped because there were three options: Single, Married, and Married but file as single. I was puzzling over why I might want to file as Single since I'm married. Kindly remember that I've been fighting a cold and haven't been particularly sharp the last couple days.

The HR woman helpfully leans in and goes, "Single. Single. Single." Three slow blinks and slow oh-so-very-slow chugs of the brain gears later and I realize she thinks I'm single. "I'm married," I tell her.

Here we go, I think. She sits back in shock. "So young!" she shouts.

Lady, go on and ask me how long I've been married. Go. Ahead. I love it when they do that. Then I can see them trying to run the math without actually asking me how old I am. Because what I really need is the freshmen looking at me like I'm as old as Death while the adults in HR think I'm a child bride. What is up with that??

And finally: the Happy Song of the Day. Get up out that seat and DANCE!

Public Service Announcement

2011-08-30T14:39:00.000-04:00

Hello, Reader! I hope you are well. Alas, my computer is sick. I think the hurricane might have frightened it. It won't turn on. It just sits in the corner, shivering. We've tried to coax it out with snacks and compliments but nothing seems to work.

Until I can get my computer going, I won't be blogging, at least not much. I have limited internet access through the college but my blogging tends to be spontaneous and so without immediate access to a computer, I just don't see myself posting.

In the meantime, I'm trying to make progress on Chapter 9 the old fashioned way (notebook and pen, not my preferred method for anything other than a scene, poem, or short story), and by stealthy use of a campus computer, thanks to my husband's staff login. Apparently my use of Curt's login is not really allowed. My librarian friend is none too pleased by this, but not yet too distraught to kick me out. Huzzah for small blessings and diligent but reasonably forgiving librarians.

Be well! Be merry! Be creative and well read. Until we meet again (probably tomorrow or maybe, like, the day after that.)!

Library Love and Author Carrie Jones

2011-08-25T11:47:00.000-04:00

Hey everyone, I wanted to spread the word about a rural library in need of help and an awesome giveaway by Carrie Jones (Bates alum, holla!), the kindhearted and talented author of the Need series, Tips on Having a Gay (Ex-)Boyfriend, and several other books.

Here's the deal: There's a private library with a devoted Super Librarian in rural Cherryfield, ME. The library is $3,000 short of its annual budget.

How can you help??

You can donate $5 or more to the library. The other day on Facebook, Catherynne Valente asked people how much a cup of coffee costs and most people said $5! So if you tend to pay $5 for coffee, consider skipping it tomorrow and helping out a library instead!

Here is the library's Facebook page.

If you are seriously short on money (hey, who isn't?) but still want to help, you can enter Carrie's contest and spread the word! AND you might win some books too. Huzzah!

Here are The Rules straight from Carrie's LiveJournal:

RULES!!!!
1. Comment on Carrie's LiveJournal post.
2. Put a link back to where you've posted about the library's challenge and this contest. You can post about it anywhere, on Facebook, on your blog, Twitter, anything, just provide a link. If you put in a picture of AFTER OBSESSION you get a double entry. If you put in a picture of DEAR BULLY and/or talk about bullying, you get a triple entry.
3. If you have don't have a Livejournal ID and have to comment anonymously, please give me a way to find you. Lots of people win things but then I can't get them again because they are anonymous. This makes me sad.
4. This will run until Sept. 1, noon EST.
5. I (Carrie) will pick five random winners who will get books.
6. For everyone who comments Carrie will donate a dollar. So tell your friends!

And here's a picture of the two awesome books you could win just by being nice and spreading the word:
Dear Bully

And After Obsession

Reader, let's be honest: if you EVER stop by this blog, then you must love stories and books and reading. And that means there must be at least one important library in your life. So spread the word and the library love!

Long Time Coming

2011-08-24T16:48:00.001-04:00

I just got a voice mail from a woman named Courtney. No joke: She called to inform me that my halo is in and ready to be picked up.

No, I did not order a halo.

But I've been EARNING one, am I right??

For example, earlier today after burning my palm, pouring soda all over the kitchen, dropping knives at my feet, and nearly slicing off my finger, I went to get coffee. They were all out of regular. Fine. I used to like Hazelnut. I decided I could handle Hazelnut today. When my mug was a quarter full, the Hazelnut ran out. The only kind left was a blend that tastes like caramel. Rather than complain, I just MIXED them. And yes, it was gross but I was super nice about it. So, I mean, I'm just glad I'm finally getting recognized by upper management for all my good works down here.

To be honest, I really don't know what this is about—probably a costume or something—but I just love it and I almost don't want to call back to tell them they have the wrong number.

I prefer to picture Courtney as the administrative assistant at the Pearly Gates, making calls to earth on a phone that looks like this:

Is Dr. Pepper a Real Doctor?

2011-08-24T12:55:00.003-04:00

So there hasn't been a whole lot of talk about writing on this blog lately, and that is because there hasn't been a whole lot of writing in my life lately. Whenever I relocate, I find it very difficult to write.

Even grocery shopping is difficult when you've just moved. You wander the aisles, wondering if you're the type of person who buys milk. Did I buy milk in my last life? You can't remember. You might have snubbed chain stores and only shopped locally in this distant, dimly remembered life. But now there are only chains. What do you do?

Anyway, everyone's been asking me how today is going. *Waves* Hi, Sheila. Yes, you did too ask me how my day was going. Yes. Well, you might have. I mean, it would have been nice of you to ask, Sheila. God knows I ask you how you are all the time.

(Please note: Sheila is not real.)

HOW HAS MY DAY BEEN GOING? Well, in the past thirty minutes I burned my palm on my hairdryer. I deliberately just put my hand right on it, TO SEE IF IT WAS HOT. Well, it was. Extremely hot. Glad I could confirm that for everybody.

Then I decided to have some soda. Just the fact that I have soda in my fridge is strange, but then again maybe in this new life I am a person who always has soda in her fridge. So I get out the soda and I open it and drink some from the container (obviously).

Did you guys just hear that?? That was my mother-in-law sharply inhaling at the thought of me drinking directly from a container. But Curt does it too! In fact, I think he started it. No, I'm sure of it.

You know, I NEVER drank from a container when I lived with my parents. But now that I do the dishes, I have to really think about what is worth washing.

(Note to guests, Mother-in-Law, and Mother: I will not serve you from containers that I have previously drank from. That is gross. I do have my limits.)

So anyway I take a sip from the container and then I decide, "Hey, let's be classy. Let's drink our soda FROM A GLASS." I open the cabinet to get a glass.

I have either forgotten how tall a liter of soda is or how low my new cabinets are. Possibly both. The cabinet door knocks over the liter of soda, which starts vomiting Dr. Pepper all over the counter.

I place the soda in the upright position. Then—and I can't really explain this part—as I turn to grab paper towels, I slap the cabinet closed.

It knocks the soda over AGAIN. Now soda is almost evenly distributed on the counter. Good. I do like my symmetry. I start to hallucinate ants. Why did I have to be a person who drinks soda in my new life? Why!?

I put the soda in the sink so it can't cause anymore trouble, but I do NOT put the cap back on because that would be way too responsible at this point.

I start moving things on the counter so I can be sure I've sopped up all the soda. One of the objects that must be moved is the knife block I never use because those knives are too sharp and I like to saw through things with a dull little knife. Anyway, I pull the knife block forward so I can get to the soda underneath and behind it.

The soda is mostly under control. I have used up almost all my paper towels, which is so hypocritical considering how careful I am about recycling. I decide that at this point what I could really use is Scotch, but I haven't even had lunch so maybe I should just stick with the Goddamn soda. I open the cabinet—

And this time the cabinet door catches on the biggest knife in the knife block, causing the block to tip forward. Sharp knives that I consider too sharp for use are now leaping off the counter towards my bare feet.

I shriek and just barely manage to hop out of the way while simultaneously catching the remaining knives (by their handles!!) so that they don't get any ideas.

Carefully, I put the knives back. I wipe down the counters. I pour myself a glass of soda and I sit down and write this post.

I do not put the cap back on.

And THAT is how my day is going. Cheers.

UPDATE 1:32 PM: I just nearly sliced my finger off while attempting to remove the pit from an avocado, which perfectly illustrates why I only use this one dull knife that we found in our first apartment. I am now afraid to go into the kitchen, you guys.

Edit: Don't worry, Aunt A. I don't really drink Scotch in the middle of the day. That would be wasteful. I generally stick with coffee and candy. Lots of candy.

Good Friends Are Like Balloons

2011-08-22T11:11:00.000-04:00

Last night I got a text from a friend, asking if I wanted to chat. It couldn't have come at a better time. I'm terrible at calling people. I don't like to bother people or ask for help. We ended up talking for over an hour and I really needed it.

And this morning, THIS happened:

See it online here.

Today, even though my heart has been so heavy lately, I feel buoyant. And I know it's because my friends are carrying me.

From New York City to Chicago, from Vermont to Georgia, from Maine to Hawaii, from Scotland to Germany, and every blog reader in between: Thank you, Friends.

Friday Escapism

2011-08-19T12:34:00.000-04:00

I mentioned the Bollywood film Devdas to you yesterday, so as a Friday treat I'm including one of my favorite songs "Morey Piya."

Well, just about every song is my favorite. But this scene is romantic and super sexy and the song is about Krishna and Rhada—which is paralalled by the two protagonists Devdas and Parvati (aka Paro).

I am NOT showing you The Scene, the one that always makes me cry. One, I don't like to make people cry on Fridays and two, you should really watch the entire film so that you understand the emotional intensity of The Scene.

In the scene below, there is much more going on than you might realize, but you can also just enjoy it and go, "Pretty! Sexy! Sigh..."

In other news, I saw a red moon last night. I would consult my books to see what this means, but they are all still packed and I promised myself I wouldn't unpack them until we move into a house because we don't own any bookshelves.

But. Not having access to my books is Killing. Me. Anyone know what it means? References other than Practical Magic would be appreciated.

Today's Must Read: Dinosaurs and Sexism

2011-08-18T10:13:00.000-04:00

Thanks to my awesome husband Curt for sending me these comics this morning!! If you've never read Dinosaur Comics before, I highly recommend you start.

I suppose the People in Charge didn't want their content being shared without their knowledge, so this is as big as the image gets. Click this link to read the comic on site. Trust me: It's worth it.

And then read this one:

Again, I can't enlarge it, so you'll have to click this link to see it full size.

Once Upon a Television

2011-08-17T14:20:00.000-04:00

Soooo I have basic cable again! Most of the stuff on TV is trash though I DO have a not-so-secret fondness for QVC's hideous, sequined clothing designed for middle aged women (don't do it, ladies!) and clunky, cheap-looking jewelry.

What really fascinates me is the way they point at everything in a very particular way, draping five necklaces over their arm and then moving each necklace to make the stones glitter. It's sort of hypnotizing.

Yes, I'm a writer and I work from home. Why do you ask?

Anyway, having TV again has made me curious about upcoming shows. Do you think Once Upon a Time is going to be any good?Sabrina—that's right, I'm calling you out, girl—since you're a fan of Fables, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on the show.

Also, does anyone think it will be as awesome as I remember The 10th Kingdom being??

I'd also like to express my extreme excitement over Sarah Michelle Gellar's new show Ringer. I'm a huge Buffy fan. I have reoccuring dreams that I AM Buffy.

As I've mentioned before on this blog, I even went so far as to make a SMG scrap book back in high school and I once had a tragic hair accident while attempting to look like SMG in Buffy Season 3. You know, back when THIS was happening:

After which my mom famously said, "Honestly, Jennifer, are you TRYING to keep the boys away?"

Oh, memories.

That bleach job really did look terrible. After a nice long cry, I went back to the salon and had it fixed.

So, Class, what have we learned today? If your hairdresser is dingy and chatty, she will probably forget about you while your hair is bleaching and leave the bleach on too long. Also, don't bleach your hair when the rest of it isn't blond.

On second thought, just don't bleach it at all.

When Two is Not Enough

2011-08-16T16:58:00.000-04:00

Reader, I was just skimming through my recent posts and I realized I've been a bit of a hypocrite lately. I've been complaining about things being too serious and yet my blog has definitely been walking around with its dark rimmed glasses, its favorite sweater vest, and the matching argyle socks lately.

The good news is that I found one last cleavage cover on my phone! I give you...

The Tri Boobed Alien Woman

Look how grim our intrepid hero looks on the cover as he announces to the world that he's totally getting it on with a girl who has three boobs. He's all, "Seriously guys, I love her. Yes, she has three boobs, but that has nothing to do with the way I feel about....MOTORBOAT!!!"

Meanwhile she's like, "I can't believe I finally found someone who loves me for who I am, not how many mammary glands I've got. We are totally connecting right now. We're even holding hands!"

Poor, misguided alien woman.

The illustrator really wanted to make sure we got the whole THREE BOOBS, BRAH look by including three mysterious floating orbs. I am going to label them as moons.

Unless they are supposed to symbolize man parts, in which case...maybe these crazy kids have more in common than I gave them credit for.

Personally, I find the boobs really disconcerting. Accuse me of jealousy all you like. When I look at them, all I can see are egg sacs or something. Is it just me?

Let's consider the close up, shall we?

Those stars on her boobs...is that part of the outfit or...does she have some seriously weird nipples too?

WHAT? I'm just asking.

Nostalgia

2011-08-15T10:04:00.000-04:00

I feel a bit of an over share coming on. I hope that's not actually the case. It's just...it's odd to find myself living almost on campus at my alma mater.

(Does anyone use that phrase anymore? It sounds so old fashioned but significantly less clunky than "where I went to college")

College was a good time for me. Much better than high school. At the time, I thought high school was pretty damn good, because just about anything was going to feel amazing after the horror that was middle school.

In fact, I have many comics I drew in middle school, many of which involved a giant can of maggot spray that I used to get rid of the popular girls who hung out around my locker—but who ignored me, of course. The comic also featured an ongoing murder investigation in which I tried to prove that the janitor had murdered the paper mache giraffe in the school's courtyard (there really was a giraffe). If there had been web comics at the time, I think mine would have been pretty awesome.

College was when I stopped saying yes to every single activity I could possibly be involved with, and started actually trying to tell stories. I was not very good at it. I could turn a phrase. I could make something SOUND like a story. Prose Writing workshop would always start out with lots of positive comments about my story, then would devolve into a mess of criticism, once the smoke cleared and everyone began to realize that my characters' were in dire need of some fleshing out.

Mostly because I was still in need of some growing up.

I was a mature kid, all in all. But I hadn't experienced all that much. College was where I had to stand on my own, without my twin sister there to tell me when I looked good and when I had said something stupid. I remember walking around in HORROR the first couple of weeks, constantly convinced I had something in my teeth and that my hair needed adjusting. Melissa had been my mirror for too long.

I always felt that college was when my story started, when I finally loved myself enough to believe I was the protagonist. That was a big deal—accepting that I might be worth a story all my own. Of course we all are, we each get our own story and we're each writing it right now. But it takes some of us longer than others to realize this.

Now I'm back where I started, so to speak. My confidence is stuttering. I need to rediscover that feeling that the world is rolling out in front of me, a thousand paths all begging for the tread of my feet. Maybe there are only a hundred paths now, I've made some choices since then. But still, there are paths to walk, and places to go and this is just another beginning.

But sometimes, I forget.

There is No Joy in The Serious

2011-08-12T10:52:00.007-04:00

The other day, I blogged about "literary" fiction's prejudices against genre fiction. To be honest, I've got a pretty big prejudice against "literary" fiction myself: That it's all DEPRESSING.

Which is why I avoid it unless a particular book has been recommended to me.

It's funny, because I do love tragedies. I suppose you haven't ever seen the amazing Bollywood film Devdas, have you? I adore it—one scene in particular, which always makes me cry. Always. I also love Hamlet. I haven't quite figure it out, though I do find there's a difference between a grandiose, epic tragedy and a wear-you-down, life is hopeless depressing story.

The thing is, I'm very good at depressing myself without any outside help.

Why is it that Art has to be serious to be taken seriously?

People used to mock me for loving Sara Teasdale's poetry, despite my contention that she can be just as piercing and pensive as Sylvia Plath.

I was teased at the publishing house for selecting a holiday book (yes, every year we each got to choose a book that was then wrapped and opened in front of the entire company) about Maxfield Parrish (ever heard of "Parrish Blue?").

This is "Ecstay" my favorite Parrish painting and the first one I ever saw.

One editor told me I might as well like Thomas Kinkaid. Everyone laughed. At 23 and lowest on the company totem pole, I was mortified.

Similarly in college I struggled to enjoy dance class, which had been one of my primary loves up through high school. But there was no more Fosse, no more tap, and very little ballet. Dance was not to entertain and express a range of emotions. No, because it was college and so there was only Modern Dance and Modern was ONLY for the purpose of talking about Serious Topics.

Even the folks who made White Christmas knew that. ("Instead of dance it's choreography.")

Last night I attended yet another modern dance performance. I never learn, I guess. The entire time I kept thinking, "Where is the joy??" One piece after another featured stressful music, serious themes, and hardly any dancing at all. One piece that explored a little shred of hope (I'm not asking for sequins here, folks), would have stood out like a beacon of light.

Instead we were treated to one piece in particular, which involved a woman making upsetting noises, stomping her feet, and randomly spinning a top, all with her back to the audience.

I don't go to a performance to watch someone else's self indulgent display of emotion. Ditto for reading a book. I go to have emotions evoked in ME through the work. The artist shouldn't try to control what that emotion/ reaction is. Interestingly, that piece also required several paragraphs of explanation in the program, something about the world's sadness. Sad was not how I felt. Anger was more like it.

It seems to me that the only people who like this stuff, are the ones making it, be that certain literary fiction or modern dance or any other art form. It reminded me of a strange moment last summer at the Bread Loaf Writer's Conference wherein a couple literary magazines informed everyone that, "If you expect us to publish your work, you need to subscribe to our magazine." The implication being that otherwise the magazines would fold. You know, because no one wants to read that stuff, not even the people who are WRITING it!

As Curt said so eloquently, "That's not art, that's a bunch of people masturbating on each other."

I like to think of this crassness as my influence on him.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm not saying I want everything to be sunshine! rainbows! and jazz hands! But everything needs balance. Without an understanding of the hope a character might have for the potential joys they might experience, I can't then truly comprehend the meaning of their loss when/ if those hopes are not realized. I can't appreciate darkness without a candle, nor can I appreciate these long, lazy summer days without the dark, cold winter nights.

Besides, there's nothing wrong with a little joy. Mock me all you want. Shake your head all you want. Snub me all you want Mr. Snobby Narrow-minded Literary Agent, who doesn't have a clue what my writing abilities are. Dismiss my thesis or my dance composition piece or my holiday book selection.

For a serious person like me, exploring life's capacity for joy is far more difficult and meaningful than exploring its capacity for despair.

Editor's Note: I guess I think about this a lot. Here's a post from last year as a refresher.

Today's Must Read: The Rejectionist

2011-08-11T11:52:00.000-04:00

The Rejectionist is a must-read every day, but today I felt I had to specifically point it out to you, Dearest of Readers.

Ch-ch-check it out here.

My day? Well, I got coffee, which was good. Then I locked myself out of my new apartment in front of a horde of construction workers, which was bad. But then I realized I could try the back entrance, which was good! And now...I'm...trying to get back into writing.

Just a week off my schedule and I'm already out of shape.

Dear Sarah Kerr: Not Cool.

2011-08-10T15:07:00.004-04:00

Today I stumbled upon the trailer for Never Let Me Go, the film based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro. I haven't read Ishiguro yet. He's definitely on my To Read List, but I haven't ever had a clear idea of which book of his I wanted to read and since I've got a long To Read List, that put him much closer to the bottom.

Today the story seemed to have sought me out and I got distracted. I wanted to learn all about this story.

How to tell you the premise of the book without giving something away?? Well, you could watch the movie trailer, which does give a bit away but not too much.Or, just take my word for it that the story includes something that is non standard for "literary" (oh how I loathe the term) fiction. It's a plot point that is more common in Science Fiction.

This plot point surprised me not at all. But there are those reviewers and readers out there, the ones who only read "literary" fiction, who seem to have sealed off their imaginations entirely.

So.

In my search I stumbled on a book review by Sarah Kerr in The New York Times, April 17, 2005. You can read the full review here.

And in the review, she said this:
"The setup is so shocking -- in such a potentially dime-store-novel way -- that it's hard to believe at first that it issued from Ishiguro's desktop. Has one of our subtlest observers gone to pulp? The novel is the starkest instance yet of a paradox that has run through all Ishiguro's work. Here is a writer who takes enormous gambles, then uses his superior gifts to manage the risk as tightly as possible. The question is what he's gambling on. Is he setting up house in a pop genre -- the sci-fi thriller -- in order to quietly upend its banal conventions..."

Banal conventions. Pulp. Ishiguro included a single, admittedly crucial, plot point that does not exist in our current world, and suddenly he's gone pulp?

I don't understand. Does imagination scare you that much, Sarah Kerr?? Is your brain truly so rigid that it must struggle to understand a concept simply because it doesn't exist in our current world?

And on the other hand, I don't understand why Sarah Kerr (and others) seem to think that just because a story involves magical/ futuristic/ imaginary elements, that the work itself is somehow less, somehow not as good. As if the authors of these works were merely street charlatans, using their imaginations to sell us fake medicine, rather than to explore an idea.

Why tell stories if we can't tell them the way we would like? Why tell them if we are afraid to explore an idea in a creative way? Why dream if in those dreams we merely go through the normal daily tasks of life?

Dreams. Stories. Each in their own way seeks to help us understand what it means to be human, what it means to live.

Maybe I would sleep better if I had normal dreams about boring, everyday things. Instead I have many nightmares. I am chased through dark cities. I am hunted on deserted islands. I am kidnapped and kept in endless nesting doll houses.

But sometimes, in those dreams, I fly.

Closing Time

2011-08-10T08:36:00.004-04:00

So. Here I am. Today is the first day since the move that I'm home alone.

*Cue dancing in my underwear montage*

Phew! That was fun. Anyway, now I have a choice—two pills, if you will. One pill will make me do more unpacking/ organizing/ cleaning. The other pill will allow me to shut everything out and write. Even without my magic charms up over the desk.

I know which pill I'm taking, because there's a short story that's been humming in my head for weeks, but I don't like to force short stories. Like my poetry, they always end up stale when forced. But last night, the story started telling itself to me. Of course it stopped talking right about when I got to the PLOT but oh well. I guess that's where the sweat and blood come in, huh?

But before I get all go-go-gadget writer on you, I wanted to share this exchange with my mom. She called the other day to check up on me. Even though she's been really sick with a fever and MIGHT have Lyme Disease from a brief hike in the woods of Vermont when my parents came to visit this summer before we moved.

Melissa pointed out how terribly ironic it would be if our mom left Connecticut, the birth place of Lyme Disease, so to speak, only to get the disease herself in Vermont.

Frowns all around. I hope she's better soon!

In the meantime, in a break in her fever, she called me. To see if I was okay. Moms are the best, right? This is how it went down:

MOM: Hi. I just called to see how you're doing.

ME: What about you? Are you okay?

MOM: Oh, I'm fine. (Coughs weakly, sounds terrible). I called to hear about you.

ME: Well...

[And this is where I started to morph into a little kid again. I began to remember all the aches and pains of the last few days. I was already planning to write a funny post about it, even. So I took a deep breath and prepared to stun her with a devastating pronouncement—the perfect metaphor for how I've been feeling about another move.]

ME: Actually, I'm so tired that I think I actually got a canker sore on the tip of my TONGUE! Isn't that crazy???

MOM: I hate when that happens.

ME: You've...you've had one before?

MOM: Oh sure.

ME: But, it hurts all the time. I didn't even know you could GET a canker sore there.

MOM: Sure you can. So how's the unpacking going?

So much for impressing my mom with my pain and suffering! I had to laugh at myself over that. Curt has heard many complaints about my canker sore and the bruises all over my body from moving and the headaches from stress, which are a little gift I like to give myself every so all of the time.

Seriously, though. A Canker sore on your tongue really hurts! Especially because you can't help but constantly run your tongue along your teeth, thereby making the canker sore hurt even more.

Anyway the Pity Party is over. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Well, actually I hope you DO stay here, it's just that it'll now be an Awesome Party of Awesomeness with admittedly weaker drinks but much better music.

Time to put on my big girl pants (re: get dressed) and write!

Mary Sue Madness

2011-08-07T21:52:00.006-04:00

Hey, Reader. So. While I've been ogling boobs of both the neighborly and paperback variety, a very interesting and thoughtful discussion of Mary Sues has been going on within the literary world.

Did you know of this? Reader, be honest. How could you not keep me in the loop when I told you about the NEIGHBOR'S BOOBS!?!

Anyway, I wanted to share a few links to keep YOU in the loop of this, just in case you're like me and have a tendency to be (Housewife Reference in 3...2...) tardy to the party.

Let me backtrack for you:

1. On Facebook, Ellen Kushner shared a link to her blog in which she linked to...

2. Holly Black's post about Mary Sues, which was partly motivated by...

3. A post by Sarah Rees Brennan, who was responding to a post by...

4. Zoe Marriot, who started this whole crazy and--in my opinion--wonderful conversation.

So if you haven't done so already, I hope you'll follow the Rainbow Bridge here and catch up on what's been happening.

Honestly, I'm just so happy that the conversation is happening at all. Don't criticize a female protagonist just because she has girl parts. May all protagonists be—to borrow a term coined by Sarah Rees Brennan herself, "flawsome!"

PS In other news, I got encouraging feedback on chapter 7 AND I memorized the html for the em dash (see previous paragraph for proof). HOLLA!

Howdy, Neighbor

2011-08-07T13:16:00.002-04:00

I have only been living in Maine for three days and I've already seen one of my neighbors completely nude.

No, I was NOT using binoculars. It's just that I happened to be opening the window in our bedroom when the woman next door was lying down to sleep--on a mattress on the floor, on the FIRST floor, next to a bay window, with the light on. I couldn't have missed her if I tried.

And once again I'm reminded why I have NO PITY for smaller breasted women. Because you can be somewhere around 50 and those things will have not moved at all.

Suddenly there has been a lot of boob talk on this blog, no?

Anyway, that's really all you need to know about how the move is going...

Tales From the Used Book Store: Genre Boobs

2011-08-02T15:29:00.015-04:00

All right, Reader. You have been patient. You have waited and waited. You have written thoughtful and flattering handwritten notes on personalized stationary.

And now...all that hard work is about to pay off. I bring you:

THE CLEAVAGE POST!!!!!!

So, without further ado, let us see how Sci Fi, Fantasy, and Mystery illustrators believe women in the fantastical past/ future or some campy, murderous Alternaverse might dress.

(Apologies in advance for poor picture quality. I keep forgetting how much better my Blackberry was at taking pics. The good pics here are from my friend's phone. Let's just say I blurred the rest out on purpose to protect your delicate sensibilities. I love when we lie to each other, don't you?)

1. The Semi Topless Potential Murder VictimAre these people on drugs? They must be. The girl's boob is hanging out as if it needs some air, the guy is totally distracted by the gun-wielding vixen, and even the vixen herself (who is apparently armed...and dangerous) looks like she's more interested in checking out the other girl's boob than in starting trouble.

All this combines into a cover that says, "Buy this lame mystery novel and we'll throw in a Free! Partial! Boob!"

No thanks, buddy. No. Thanks.

2. The Topless QueenShe keeps things classy by remaining in the distance, her modest boobs safely blurred. What really stands out for me on this cover is the way the warrior guy in front of her is thrusting his pelvis at her.

Well, that and the totally phallic giant snake throne. And the erupting volcano. Methinks there is some Freudian imagery going on here.

On a side note, WHO is decorating this Atlantian/ Egyptian/ Aztec outdoor throne room?? A black and white checkered floor? It totally clashes with the pyramid, right? And don't even get me started on those tacky potted plants.

If she thinks going topless is going to distract us from this low-budget-dying-empire's- design-mess she is so wrong.

3. The Naked Maybe Murder VictimThis murder mystery steps things up by stripping ALL the woman's clothes off and possibly--though it's hard to see--adding some blood dripping from her nipple. Curt contends that this is just a skimpy bathing suit but I have my doubts.

I do enjoy how BORED she looks.As if being naked and potentially bleeding is just how she spends her Thursday afternoons before the girls come over for cocktails and Bridge.

The detective, at least, seems determined to figure out whether she's bleeding or not, given the way he is blatantly staring at her chest. Dude, a little subtlety is always appreciated.

The possible best part of this cover? The GENIUS description that it's, "A bristling sex-hot hunt for a killer." WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

4. The Topless Wizard (?)Given that the title of this book is The Undying Wizard and the two people on the cover are a topless woman and a warrior, I'm going to make the assumption that the author decided to call a woman a wizard rather than a witch or sorceress. It's unlikely, I know. And I could look up the summary online. But I like it this way better.

How great would it be if this book was about an undying female wizard who is immortal and thus walks around with her three-hundred-year-old yet perky boobs and her dumb yet super hot warrior slave? Yeah, I think I'd read that book.

And yes, if I was immortal and had magic and my boobs defied gravity, I'd probably walk around topless too.

5. The Topless, Semi Nude Horseback Riding WarriorReally, illustrator? Have you ever BEEN on a horse? Do you really think a woman would 1. wear nothing on her thighs (is she immune to chaffing?) and 2. have almost no chestal support?? Those things BOUNCE you know (the real ones do, anyway)??

I realize that this is the standard "warrior woman with no armor" outfit, but it never ceases to annoy and amuse.

I particularly love that the illustrator lavished all of his attention on the woman's boobs and body and ran out of room for the horse's LEGS. That is one funky looking horse, my friend.

Fail.

6.Topless Mostly Nude Warrior Concubine--REPEAT OFFENDER
Apparently Janet E. Morris, the author of this book, was the precursor to Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Dart Series--another woman with the power to destroy her enemies and bring men to their knees.

(Pause for extreme eye roll and optional yawn.)

As a warrior concubine, this woman goes around in what amounts to a metal thong and metal pasties (which I'm sure are SO comfortable).

The only explanation for this woman's anatomy is that the illustrator had never in fact SEEN a real woman naked prior to this job. He probably only watched porn, considering the size and miraculous floating ability of those giant fun bags.I mean, really.

Exhibit A:I don't even know if there's anything I can say about this cover without crossing into total inappropriateness and I don't know if we know each other well enough for that yet. So I will just say that she seems to be strictly in concubine mode here.

Also, is "wind from the abyss" a euphemism? Because I want it to be a euphemism. No. I'm MAKING it one.

Exhibit B:This time, the phallic sword is really what stands out. Also the creepy, ENORMOUS guy standing behind her--just standing there, chatting her up, asking about her favorite novels, like I'M SO SURE.

The best part about this cover? The fact that it tells us this author has also written a book entitled High Couch of Silistra. She wrote a book with a pretentious title about a COUCH. It's just. It's too much. I feel I don't deserve such awesomeness in the world.

The worst part? Well, the fact that our warrior concubine has lost a significant amount of weight and is beginning to look like a malnourished stripper who ia hard up for cash.

In case you were wondering, I skimmed through this book to see if I could find any "good" parts. Alas, it's SO BORING. Every paragraph is overflowing with made up, impossible-to-pronounce words and awkward dialogue. Talk about a boner killer.

And that, Intrepid Reader, is my very last post from the used book store. I leave for Maine on Thursday and probably won't blog again until next week.

Can we still be friends?

[Read another boob blog post I wrote here]

Women in Stories: Brain Stew

2011-07-30T22:35:00.005-04:00

Hello, Reader. I'm a bit frazzled at the moment. Moving is exhausting. This will be our 6th move in 7 years--and it's not even permanent. We're actually HOPING to move again in the next year. After that, they may have to pry me out of wherever I end up.

To escape the apartment full of boxes, Curt and I went to see Cowboys and Aliens last night.

Ugh.

Just, ugh.

Ugh because I'm so fed up with movies with predominantly female casts being considered movies strictly "for women" (ditto for movies with, say, an all African-American cast being "for African Americans"). Yet this movie--almost ENTIRELY male and with constant references to "being a man" in the most limited, archaic, gun-toting sense, is marketed to everyone. At least I thought it was anyway.

The movie is just disappointing. Stale, stereotypes walking around in place of characters. Major plot holes (as Curt said, "no one keeps their cattle right next to a big hole in the fence." STUPID ALIENS), and the another lame excuse for a female character. But I won't go into it to avoid spoilers for those of you who can't help but waste your money on it.

Anyway, there has been a lot on my mind lately about women in stories. Obviously I think about this all the time, but there have been a slew of articles lately that really got me thinking and fuming. We apparently have the Smurfs movie to thank for this, in part.

I know this is going to sound lazy--I suppose it is--but rather than attempt to add anything useful a few days before my move in my current brain haze, I'm just going to provide the links and hope you read and watch and that we can continue this conversation.

Because we need to be having this conversation. Even if you are on board with me and think that men and women--while admittedly different in certain ways--are PEOPLE. I discovered tonight that even my twin hasn't really thought about this. Not the way I have. Maybe she will never agree with me. But right now, I don't think she's really thought about it.

So please, read and listen. Join the conversation, and spread it. Women are people. Men are people. Stories matter. They tell us how to be. They tell us how we are, and what we think, and what we SHOULD think.

Okay, enough vague proselytizing from me. Here are the links:

Max Barry's "Dogs and Smurfs" post, July 8, 2011

Jason Richards' article "The Problem With Smurfette," featured in The Atlantic, July 28, 2011

The Escapist's Extra Credits vlog "True Female Characters" (on characters in video games), March 10, 2011

Walking in Memories

2011-07-27T17:22:00.006-04:00

Hello, Reader. So, life has been a little odd lately. There are boxes everywhere. I am starting to see people for the last time. I hate that feeling. I'm struggling to make time to write (generally after midnight), so blogging has taken a backseat.

I promised you a post on paperback cleavage, but then I read an article about women in fiction and I got all fired up and had this huge post I wanted to write and, well, I just don't have the energy at the moment.

I will provide the cleavage post though, about which I have received NUMEROUS handwritten letters. ("Dear Jennifer, I enjoy your blog. Where is the aforementioned cleavage post?" or "Dear Jennifer, I can't sleep for anticipation about the cleavage post" and so on).

Please, no more letters.

Okay, I haven't actually gotten any letters.

Yet.

I might. You don't know. I certainly don't.

Anyway, today I lined up all my shoes in preparation to pack them. So many pairs come with a specific memory. Isn't it funny how that happens? I'm sure that's true of a lot of clothes and jewelry, but it seems particularly poignant with shoes. You can slip the shoes on and walk through the memories, so to speak.

Here are some shoes that mean a lot to me:(Left to Right)The shoes I first wore on the night Curt proposed, the shoes I wore at our rehearsal dinner, my wedding shoes, shoes I bought during a bachelorette weekend for my friend B, and the shoes I bought for my twin sister's wedding (which I bought with my sister-in-law, so they carry two special memories).

And also, I had to share these sequined flats.They are not particularly comfortable, but oh how I love them. I remember when I bought them too: back in high school on a shopping trip with my mom (rare, that my sister wasn't there, making the memory extra special). I firmly believe that everyone should own a pair of sequined shoes.

Cleavage is Coming...

2011-07-21T18:59:00.004-04:00

We are approaching my very last day at the used book store. I can't quite wrap my head around it.

The good news is this: I've been conducting a study of cleavage on Mystery and Sci Fi/ Fantasy covers and I've got some good ones for you.

Alas, at the moment my brain is too heat-addled to do the post justice. Check back soon for some serious cleavage--genre style!

Witch Dreams

2011-07-21T09:31:00.003-04:00

Morning, Reader!

This is going to be a quick post as I stayed up late working on freelance stuff, then slept in, and am headed to the bookstore for the rest of the day (and coffee first is ESSENTIAL).

However, I had a dream this morning and I wanted to share. Imagine you curled up beside me--in a totally platonic, friendly sort of way. You are half asleep. Then suddenly you sense something. Me. You open your eyes and realize I am staring at you.

"I had a weird dream," I say.

Welcome to Curt's life.

So, in my dream Curt and I were on a journey. Possibly a quest. Two powerful beings were monitoring our progress and hindering us but never outright trying to stop us. We walked up a steep path and a large, teetering Victorian house came into view.

There was a woman waiting for us. She looked like Helena Bonham Carter (I just saw Harry Potter, the last). She takes us inside and separates us. Then she seduces me and cuts off my hair. Now, she says, I'm under her power. She will always know where I am. The longer I stay with her, the uglier she gets. Soon I realize that she has a beard and several chins. I keep trying to escape and she keeps stopping me. It's a game to her. I don't know where Curt is.

Finally, I realize that if I close a particular door on her and say something--alas, the dream kept that information from me, so I can't tell you what the magic words were--I could slip away. It works! I tear through the giant house, looking for Curt. I find him stuffed in a room barely big enough for him--a box with a tiny door.

He tries to hug me. He is confused and lonely. I push past him and open a window. I pull myself through, then him. Once outside, we're both free of our respective spells.

The witch pursues us but her power over us is gone. The two beings who watch our progress our sitting on the lawn drinking lemonade. They say nothing as we run up the path and away.

Just as we've crested the hill, just before the house drops out of sight, our two Watchers turn us into some sort of raccoon/ badger animal. We keep running. They laugh. Clink glasses.

I wake up.

Who Needs Sleep?

2011-07-18T09:35:00.004-04:00

~~Reader, I was trying to come up with ways to make this a fun blog post but~~

Okay, that's not a very good sales pitch, is it? Let's try this again:

I couldn't sleep last night because I was SO EXCITED about this amazing, superfun blog post!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The not sleeping part is true anyway.

Sleeping has become somewhat of a challenge lately. This always happens when I'm stressed and right now the move from Vermont to Maine is weighing on me. I try and try to tell myself that there are so many worse things than moving and that I should be thankful and not waste time worrying. Usually that just adds a healthy dose of guilt into the mix. Not helpful, Jennifer.

A friend of mine even sent me a guided audio series that helps her sleep. Have I listened to them yet? No. That sounds suspiciously productive. Why would I do that when I can stay up really late doing crossword puzzles to my heart's content?

Yes, the Crossword Puzzle Compulsion has returned. It's a very convenient obsession as even when I'm in total denial I can at least think to myself, "Huh. You're doing crossword puzzles constantly, which hasn't happened since that last time you were super stressed out. That MIGHT mean something."

For the next week I'm focusing strictly on wrapping up some freelance stuff and packing. It's a little early to go full on pack-happy, but I think I can finally get started.

That's the latest from me. Also, fun fact: I'm using a crossword puzzle book I bought last year while I was in Scotland (See? I bought it for our trip and have had NO interest in it whatsoever until about a week ago). So, I'm learning lots of new words. Did you know that a "savoury meat-jelly" is called "aspic"? Yeah, I had to look that one up in the back.

Also, did you know "savoury" has a "u" in it?

Chapter Six: Truly Outrageous

2011-07-17T17:29:00.008-04:00

Huzzah! I just sent off Chapter 6 to my beta reader!!!

Side Note:Isn't "beta reader" a funny term? I picture her/him as Synergy from Jem and the Holograms.

But that might just be due to the fact that I was procrastinating earlier with Jem clips on YouTube.

Did you hear they are re-releasing the entire show on DVD for the holidays?? Yay!

Huzzah for moving forward, one chapter at a time!

Tales From the Used Book Store: The Religion Section

2011-07-15T12:19:00.012-04:00

Yesterday I worked at the used book store. I decided to work in the Technically-Called-Religion-But-Really-Just-Christian-Section. I walked into the aisle, and saw this:Yes. Garlic.

Someone actually went to the trouble of buying a head of garlic, peeling it open, and leaving it on a shelf. It was across from the Bibles.

(Pause for laughter)

Sorry, but every time I think about this I remember in True Blood/ The Sookie Stackhouse books when Sookie's brother is telling all the crazy Christians that Jesus might have been a vampire because he made his disciples drink his blood and then he rose from the dead. (Which is GENIUS by the way.)

We may never know WHAT the garlic was for, but it DOES explain why the back of the store has been smelling like bad sandwiches recently.

***And Now For A Brief Poltergeistian Interlude***

For those concerned, I also don't think it had anything to do with our bookstore ghost. He's usually in the next row over. Speaking of him, I haven't seen him out of the corner of my eye in ages and neither has Barbara, so I'm afraid he might have moved on. I hope I didn't drive him away by talking about him or because I was reorganizing the Business books in his corner.

***Here Endeth Said Poltergeistian Interlude***

The store is in the process of moving, so we're trying to cull the good books to be sent to the new store and leave behind the not-so-good ones to be put on super sale and/ or never seen again.

What's that, my soft-hearted, book-loving Reader? You think all books deserve to be read...by someone, at least, if not you? Well then consider these Religion books to be my counter argument.

Exhibit A:
I love how the ape is drawn like a red-nosed lush with anger management issues, as if this is going to prove how NOT like apes we are when in fact it's convincing me that we are. Both of them are looking at each other like, "Bitch, please. We are nothing alike." Riiiiight.

In fact, maybe the cover art illustrator was an Anthropology/ Art double major and only took the job so she could design the cover as a big FU to the author.

For even greater enjoyment, check out the lone Amazon book review for this little 1976 gem. Not only did reviewer Jani7za lavish the book with 5 stars, she also comments:

"It's just old slue foot misleading the human race again, not wanting them to accept creation and the truth in the bible. He is a liar and a deceiver. Harold Hill speaks with great conviction and truth. As someone once said to me, 'God created man in his image, and God is no monkey'."

From now on I'm totally going to refer to the Devil as "Old Slue Foot." It makes him sound like some crazy great uncle of mine with an unfortunate foot fungus.

Exhibit B:
I think it's safe to say that this book is out of date. I wonder if Hal was disappointed. I like that the cover design looks like a countdown to Armageddon itself and leads us to....Hal, the author!

I'm seeing a pattern with the cover art here. Maybe these designers are trying to communicate to us. This one is saying, "This author is CRAZY." And also, "This cover design took me less than FIVE MINUTES!"

Exhibit C:
Just, you know. For those of you who were wondering: The Conversion will come. Trust.

Exhibit D:
I can't tell you how relieved I was when I saw this book. I thought God only cared about the Beautiful People (Mary 1 and 2, King David, etc) but apparently there is some doom and gloom awaiting the rest of us as well. Hallelujah?

Exhibit E:
I hardly need to say anything about this one, do I? If I was in court I could just hold the book up and go, "Right? RIGHT?"

How depressing that this book and the evolution book would probably be considered timely reads by so many people in Congress.

I think I rest my case.

To end on a happier note, here's one book I found that I actually liked--though not because I wanted to read it necessarily:I think the image is supposed to symbolize the imagination! Wouldn't that make an awesome tattoo??

Ghosts, Ice Cream, Revisions

2011-07-12T13:04:00.003-04:00

Right now I'm sitting in Ladd Library at Bates College. The campus is full of memories for me, always playing like ghost movies, everywhere I look.

I can see the exact spot where I spent my freshman short term (re: third term, 1 month long) blissfully translating Middle English while listening to Moulin Rouge on my--wait for it--portable CD player.

I can see the chair I used to sit in between classes while I waited for Curt to walk by the window on the way to lunch(we were already dating, so it was less stalkery than it sounds).

I can look outside and see where I performed a piece with the Bates Modern Dance Company at the beginning of senior year (a performance in which I totally--and ACCIDENTALLY--kicked a girl in the face. The FACE. It was so awful. She brushed it off and kept dancing though. Badass.)

It's both nice and weird to be here. And to think that I'll be living here--here being a relative term, of course, as I don't think they'd let me sleep at the library and who would want to? It's a somewhat ugly building.

Yesterday I had my in-laws airy house all to myself. It was like a writer's retreat. I pretended I was Neil Gaiman, off at my rock star friend's second home to write a novel. I couldn't figure out how to work their TV and the internet crapped out on me for most of the day. It was very conducive to working.

Today I packed up my USB drive and came to my alma mater ready to work like in the good ol' days of thesis. Alas, I no longer have a room on campus or, more irritating at the moment, a login. Apparently this means I can't use a computer to alter a Word doc. Don't ask me why. So I'm experimenting with Google docs instead. Note to self: I should really get a new battery for my old laptop so it works again.

Despite the upheaval, the impending move, the looking at apartments, I'm determined to get Chapter 6 done by tomorrow. It's possible. Chapter 5 took a few weeks but Chapter 6 involves a CHASE SCENE and moves considerably faster and also requires considerably less rewriting.

So. Back to writing for me. But why is there such a delay in typing in Google docs??? That plus the fact that I forgot to bring my wrist rest with me (so my wrists are hurting like whoa), is making me want to give up.

But I shall not! And if I finish, I can get ice cream from our old college spot. More specifically, I can get a bigger size (let's be honest, I'm not leaving Maine without that vanilla mixin with Heathbar Crunch). Talk about motivation...

More Proof That My Twin Is Cool x Infinity

2011-07-09T14:13:00.007-04:00

This week Melissa introduced me to two shows: Garth Merenghi's Darkplace (so hilarious for writers especially, I think) and Adventure Time.

Please to enjoy:

Victory Over Chapter Five

2011-07-09T00:21:00.002-04:00

I'm having a private (re: ALL ALONE) party after midnight on Friday because I JUST finished Chapter 5 of my YA revision.

YAY!!

One more chapter down, and plenty to go. Lots of improvements to this chapter over the previous version, even if the basics remained the same.

Just wanted to share the happy. I'm going to resist the urge to read it all through tonight and relish the moment instead.

Sweet dreams, Reader!

Fireflies, Everywhere Fireflies

2011-07-05T08:41:00.003-04:00

Happy (belated) Fourth of July, Reader!

In honor of the day, here's a quote from a recent address by President Obama that made me nod my head and go, "yes."

"In all that we do, we must remember that what sets America apart is not solely our power -- it is the principles upon which our union was founded...We protect our own freedom and prosperity by extending it to others. We stand not for empire, but for self-determination."

** Here Endeth The Serious**

I hope you celebrated the day accordingly. My day started with walking to the local bakery and bagel place for some iced coffee. I know the woman whose family owns the store and they were closing in a few minutes so she sent us home with a TON of donuts! I do not let myself eat donuts. They fall under the list of Things I Never Eat Because They Taste Good. But I figured, on a holiday, I could enjoy myself. Let me emphasize that these were HOMEMADE donuts. Possibly my first ever. Starting the day with iced coffee and a donut was fantastic and decadent.

(Cue incredible blood sugar spike headache a few minutes later. Ahh but it was worth it.)

I made my mom's gelatin salad (which no one has ever not liked), since my parents were in Connecticut. We went to a barbecue at our friends' house. They live outside of town, with two fields on either side and woods behind them. At twilight, we were sitting on their screened-in porch, watching the fireflies come out.

It was a magical moment. Not only that, it was a moment straight out of the end of my novel (minus the fae retinue) but I was a polite writer and did not burden the conversation with this meaningless information.

Mist started to spill onto the field from a break in the woods. A coyote trotted out with it. We could barely see her in the half light. She kept looking at us over her shoulder. In the bushes and trees, the fireflies winked and danced. The trees grew darker, the mist thicker, the crescent moon brighter. Everything held its breath.

"The coyote wants us to follow it," I said.

Thankfully, no one said anything in response or tried to point out that it was more likely that the coyote was making sure it was safe before leading her pups out of the trees and across the field.

Besides, who is to say she wasn't attempting to do both?

I did not see any fireworks this year, but mist and magic and fireflies were, I think, even better.

Money Can't Buy You Class But it Can Buy You Books

2011-06-29T11:27:00.008-04:00

Today is notable for two reasons: 1. it's not raining and 2. it's Wednesday, so there's a Farmer's Market going on just a few yards from the used book store.

And that means lots of browsing customers.

Unfortunately, several of them smell. It reminds me of taking the subway in Boston during the summer. Some people apparently don't like deodorant.

And--as long as we're AIRING things out--I'm going to be honest and tell you that I don't like those people.

Okay, I'll admit: when I think about how deodorant works, I get that same uncomfortable feeling as when I think about asphalt. Both of them block surfaces that should be porous. But even so, Reader, deodorant should be worn. ESPECIALLY in late June in an enclosed space.

Also, I'm developing a theory that customers are just using the back room of the store to fart. That's the only explanation for the stale, dead smell I keep encountering back there. Not cool, flatulent customers. Not cool.

A few minutes ago, a guy came up to the counter. He was wearing an Amish-type straw hat. He was not wearing deodorant. Amidst other customers, many of whom were children, he proceeded to tell me a story.

It went like this (parenthetical asides are my own):

"A couple months ago, my girlfriend and her friends bought a bus. Like an old bus. And they totally repainted it and then they drove it to California. And then she called me the other day and told me she was pregnant. It's mine. And she wants to keep it. And she said she read this book (in his hands: The Celestine Prophecy) and she always wanted me to read it and now I have to read it. (Don't ask me how this relates to the baby--I have not read the book). And anyway, all I've got is a little change on me. (Opens his hand to produce some lint, a quarter, and a few pennies) but I need this book. I've also got granola (he plunks down a small paper bag of granola from the Farmer's Market). Could we maybe make a trade?"

A trade. One $6.00 book for granola and 28 cents.

No, kind sir. No, we cannot.

Now there was a part of me that felt guilty. A little guilty. But I am gullible by nature and short and baby-faced, which has led my heart to turn cold and shriveled and distrustful. So I said no.

And then a teenaged girl offered to buy it for him, which was sweet but, please don't. Your mom is here somewhere and if she catches me letting you pay for this random Amish-Not-Actually-Amish guy's book, she's going to make me void the transaction.

Long story short: I apologized but declined the granola as payment. He came back a little later with a credit card. He is going to name the baby Celestine (okay, I made that part up but come to think of it, that would make a rather nice name for a girl).

The Moral of this story is that you cannot buy books with granola. And practice safe sex. And wear deodorant. You should especially wear deodorant while practicing safe sex. The end.

I'm Not F*cking Kidding

2011-06-28T09:12:00.003-04:00

Reader, buckle yourself into your chair and grab some pie. It's time for some Serious Announcements.

*Real Talk!*

R.Kelly? What are YOU doing here??
What's that, R. Kelly? You magically show up whenever shit is about to get real? Huh. Thanks, R. I mean, Mr. Kelly. Or whatever.

*REAL TALK*

Shhh, R., please. I've got Serious Business to take care of. Oh? You're trying to help? By reminding everyone that this is Real and I am Talking? Well, okay. Just try not to pee on anything.

Anyway. Let's get serious and make a list!

List of Serious Announcements:

1. I will no longer refer to my husband as Husband on this blog
Why? Well, way back in November, I gave you an intimate glimpse into our personal lives, involving twin beds and full length turtleneck nightgowns in matching calico patterns. And somehow after that, I started referring to Curt as "Husband" because it made me laugh. But you know, his name is Curt. I could be all coy and give him a better nickname but why? His name is Curt, my name is Jennifer. These are facts. I'm a writer, not a spy (alas). Let's move on, shall we?

2. I did not finish Chapter 5 last week because I went to see Neil Gaiman instead
It's true. Instead of finishing my revision of the chapter, I drove four hours to Portsmouth, New Hampshire (and back again in the same night) to see Neil Gaiman at the beautiful Music Hall with my twin sister Melissa and her husband Mike and some of their friends.

It was wonderful to see Neil in such a small, intimate space. Alas, I did not actually get to MEET him (if you can really consider standing in front of someone while they scribble your name in a book to be "meeting"). So I could consider this to be When I Almost Met Neil Gaiman Part IV. Here are Parts I, II and III for a refresher. The books, you see, were pre-signed.

One aspect of the event that made me laugh was the way in which Neil was introduced. They described him as a post-modern writer only. Fantasy was not mentioned until they began listing his awards. It was a wink wink, nudge nudge sort of moment. Clearly this was meant to appeal to a more literary crowd. Oh literary world, you irritate me with your snobbish ways and your obsessive need to label things and wrap them in plastic and keep them contained.

How was the interview itself? Okay...Neil was as charming as ever, which is saying something considering his flight was delayed and then his limo got lost on its way to the Music Hall, and then he spent the rest of the afternoon signing mountains of books. The interviewer Virginia Prescott of NPR made me cringe once or twice, like when she told Neil she imagined him writing, "surrounded by cups of coffee" when every Neil fan knows he is crazy for tea. Listen to the interview and decide for yourself. Of course hearing Neil read was a treat. He has a brief summary of the event on his own blog as well as a hilarious video for The Onion, from which the title of this post was taken.

3. Curt and I are moving to Maine
This is exciting news, though I tend to tell people in a sad voice that dips slightly even when I don't want it to. Leaving Vermont will be bittersweet. We have only lived here for a year and a half and have had so many wonderful experiences. We've met some incredibly nice, talented people. We have made lifelong friends. I will miss auditing the Bread Loaf Writers Conference again this year. I might have even applied. I will miss working at Otter Creek Used Books--sadly unless I find another used book store in which to work, my Tales From the Used Book Store posts will be no longer.

I don't really like change. I just don't. Blame this on a childhood in which almost all of my relatives lived either in the same town as me, or the town across the river. Both sets of grandparents lived in the same houses where my parents spent the majority of their childhoods--up the street from each other. We always vacationed in the same place. And when my family moved, we moved up the street. Change and moving were not things I had to deal with when I was growing up, for which I am grateful.

However it does mean that now when I am writing, I find my concentration drifting as I begin to plot out our packing, as I mentally sort our things, as I wonder where we are going to live, and as I grapple with that feminist quandary of feeling like I am once again following my husband somewhere. But that is the life of a writer, isn't it? Oh well. My insides are in turmoil. It's not an excuse for writer's block, but it does explain why I haven't been sleeping.

Here ends my Big and Serious Announcements. And if you have no idea what the *Real Talk* was about, you should watch the video--unless you are an impressionable youth or my Mother-in-Law, in which case please don't as it contains cuss words.

A Little Luck

2011-06-27T08:55:00.003-04:00

On Saturday I was walking across the town green after getting coffee. I was chattering away until I suddenly froze as if someone had grabbed me on the shoulder.

And then I saw it.

I dropped to the ground and found this:

As I said in a post from just a couple weeks ago, four leaf clovers find me. I always pick them and press them. But this time, I hesitated. Hadn't I just found some luck? I didn't want to be greedy.

So I took a picture and left it there.

Later in the day, Curt and I went for a walk. Again, I suddenly stopped to stare at a patch of clover. Immediately I found a four leaf...and another...and another.

NINE four leaf clovers in all!! I was secretly hoping it might be seven, but it was actually nine.

That's a lot of luck! Where is it all coming from? Is it something to do with the excessive rain we've had lately? Does Vermont produce more four leaf clovers than other states?? Did a faerie couple roll around in that patch of clover the other night?

Or maybe I'm calling the luck to me, up through the depths of the earth where magic grows.

Surprise on My Doorstop

2011-06-20T15:41:00.005-04:00

Hurray for books in the mail! I walked outside my door about an hour ago, only to discover a package waiting for me.

Come here, book. Give us a kiss!

That's right, Reader! The UPS man brought me an ARC of Laini Taylor's forthcoming book Daughter of Smoke and Bone and I can't WAIT to read it!!! Shout out to my friend Faye for sending it to me. I promise, I will tell you guys all about it when I'm done!
Question: Based on this photo, am I going to read the book or eat it??

Answer: I'm going to DEVOUR it, of course!

Silly Reader.

The only problem is that between this book and The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland, I'm going to have a hard time finishing chapter five of my own novel by Wednesday. What a delightful conundrum...

Thanks, Dad

2011-06-19T14:09:00.009-04:00

Dear Dad,

There are so many things I could thank you for but this Father's Day, I want to thank you first for your bookshelves.

You loved those books and I loved you, so when I was a kid, I wanted to read them all. This simple thing set me on the magical, winding Fantasy path along which I still travel and on which I one day hope to add my own little village of stories.

I have fond memories of staring at your massive copy of Tad Williams' To Green Angel Tower and making up stories about the cover art (by Michael Whelan).
Thank you for reading so many books that you have an annoying tendency to announce a plot twist on TV or in a movie before it happens (please note, I'm developing the same habit).

Thank you for talking about books at the dinner table. Thank you for recommending books like David Brin's The Uplift War to me when I was in middle school because you loved it so much.Thank you for reading Rosemary Wells' Stanley and Rhoda in funny voices which led to me embarassing myself in front of her at BEA 2011.

Thank you for reading Melissa and me The Hobbit, even though I didn't like it as much as you had hoped because I didn't like the hobbits' hairy feet or the lack of female characters and I'm pretty sure we made you reread the beginning about ten times.No one does a better "My precioussss" than you. You are the reason why, on occasion, I have been known to walk around chanting, "First we STOMP, then we CHOMP, then we stand still."
Thank you for lending me your 1970s boxed set of Lord of the Rings for college. Thank you for not being mad at me when I lost The Two Towers, because you care more about the words inside that the matching cover art. (But seriously, those are the best covers and I'm going to find a replacement copy for you someday.)

Thanks for reading the first draft of my first post-thesis novel and laughing at that joke I made about faeries and the Post Office, because that line didn't survive the rewrites and I really wanted someone to like it.

Thanks for always being there to lend a hand.Thanks for making me want to be better at everything I do. And thanks for making me want to write a story with a plot twist you can't anticipate. I love you, Dad.

Happy Father's Day!

Love,
Jennifer

Fan Girl Head Explosion

2011-06-18T21:54:00.005-04:00

So, Reader, I just want you to know that this afternoon I ventured out into the sun to pick up my copy of Catherynne Valente's somewhat annoying to type but beautifully titled children's novel The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making--that's a link to the lovely Vermont Book Shop where I purchased my copy.

(Me, clutching my copy. You shan't have it!)

And you guys, it is straight up awesome.

I think I've mentioned this before, but I am a binge reader and like to devour novels in one sitting when possible. And with this book I'm already like, "Whoa whoa whoa, I need to slow this down and make it last."

In fact, I am even already thinking about REREADING it. I do not reread. I reread passages, special scenes, particularly amazing sentences. I don't often reread books. But this one I might.

I know you are thinking, "Okay, Jennifer. But you are a total Cat Valente Fan Girl. How do we know you're not biased?"

And I get that. Except that I'm harder on the authors I love most. I still think that without Terry Pratchett (a la Good Omens), Neil Gaiman has trouble with his conclusions (short stories excluded, of course). And in previous works, I've sometimes thought that C to the V's sentences and images and metaphors tended to take precedence over plot. See? I can be critical (any family members reading this are like, "Yeah. No shit." Sorry, Family Members!).

But this book. Is. Amazing. It's already a classic--one of those books that younger readers will love but adults will cherish. There are so many amazing quotable passages that I've given up keeping track. We shall see if this awesome rainbow of magical storytelling will deposit me to a pot of gold at the end. WE SHALL SEE ABOUT THAT. The bar has been raised, that's for sure.

But for now, it's rocking my world.

For the Purpose of Documentation

2011-06-18T06:36:00.004-04:00

Let the record show that I am sitting at the computer at 6:30 AM. I may not have brushed my teeth (or my hair, now that I think about it), or done anything else to make myself look or feel presentable. BUT, I did wave to the sun as it climbed over the mountains!

See? I'm awake--mostly. Please note that it is Saturday.

In a matter of moments I will shut off the internet and start writing.

And I WILL meet my deadline to complete chapter five by Wednesday. Admittedly this is only a commitment I made to my beta reader but it's important to me. Also I told her she could mock me on facebook--and here, I suppose--if I fail.

So, onward! No coffee until I've worked for a few hours. Sometimes a little bleariness is good for writing--like having a drink but less frowned upon. Particularly at 6:30 AM.

Oh, and before I forget:

Good morning, Reader!!

Super 8 - Not So Great For Female Characters

2011-06-17T23:10:00.003-04:00

**SPOILERISH ALERT**

I think enough time has passed that I can weigh in on this movie, which I actually saw on opening weekend!! Yes, that's worth additional exclamation points. I'm notoriously behind on movies.

Anyway, the movie was nice. I mean, the best part was that it felt like the people who made it actually cared about the movie and also cared whether or not I enjoyed it. It's just too bad that this is a rare enough feeling nowadays that I noticed it at all.

I am not going to talk plot, I just have a feminist complaint. As per usual, the women in this film act merely as a moral compass, a Reason to Go On, and as someone in need of rescuing.

Early in the film, the J.J. Abrams stand-in director kid decides to add a new character to the zombie film he's making: the detective's wife. "Why?" asks his friend. To which the director kid replies that the audience needs a reason to care about what happens to the detective. And the reason is that his wife loves him.

And that is the function the "real" women characters fill in the rest of the movie.

There's the main character's mom, who died--leaving both her child and husband bereft and unable to connect with each other. The mother is seen only in loving film shots wherein she is cuddling the main character as a baby while making doe-eyes at her husband, who is filming. She also serves as the Moral Compass for her coworker, a drunk for whom she was covering at the Plant the day she died. And for the rest of the movie, he tries to make it up to her, because she was the only person who Believed in Him. The drunk's daughter is the pretty blond girl who gets cast in the movie and becomes not only the main character's and director kid's love interest but also the Girl in Need of Rescuing.

Meanwhile the boys--all white, of course--run around filming a movie and narrowly avoiding getting blown up and whacked in the head with shrapnel. It's all just so typical. Why can't there be a girl in the mix of boys? Why can't there be some minorities, who are main characters rather than just the Smart Scientist with the Heart of Gold, who happens to be....black!! And of course the black soldier who follows the big bad white man's orders to kill the scientist.

I don't think I'm asking too much here, World...am I??

Note to Men: Women do NOT exist simply to give your lives--and your movies--meaning.

Edit: Here's another review by Daniel Walber at IndieWIRE that shares my opinion on this subject.

BEA 2011: Wednesday, With Hugging

2011-06-16T10:52:00.008-04:00

Okay, this time I am going to "stay on target" (Star Wars reference!) and only talk about Wednesday and Thursday.

That means I'm only going to tell you my most favorite parts!

Wednesday's Big Moment happened at the very end of the day. I was waiting by the entrance to the Javits Center for one of my friends, when I saw a familiar figure walk across the lobby. She sat down by herself at one of the open tables in the lobby.

Who could it have been??

Why, none other than author and Sorceress of Sentences Catherynne Valente!!!

In case you don't remember, I had a Catherynne Valente siting last year at BEA which I wrote about here and in which I blurted her name and then squeaked out, "Fan girl moment!!" which Catherynne claimed had made her BEA. Yeah right. But I was willing to go along with the hyperbole.

So, after some encouragement from my friends, I gathered up my courage and walked across the wide, empty lobby to say hello. Here's what happened:

Me: Um...Catherynne Valente? Hi, my name is Jennifer and I met you at BEA last year and I just wanted to say hello.

CV: (looks up at me with her sharp eyes and considers for a moment) I remember you! You made my BEA last year!

*SQUEE! You guys, she totally remembered me!!! It wasn't entirely hyperbole after all*

Me: (trying to keep the squee from bursting out) Uh huh. I didn't know you were coming this year.

CV: Oh I'm just stopping here for some meetings before heading to WisCon.

Then I totally blundered over congratulating her on her award for The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making. (Note: It won the 2009 Nebula/ Andre Norton Award.)

I have to admit, I don't know much about those awards and haven't bothered to differentiate. An award isn't going to make me read or not read a book and in terms of being an author, methinks it's years too soon before I need to know the difference--if I am ever so lucky. Anyway, CV was perfectly gracious and lovely about it.

Then we talked about how BEA and author travel in general can be tiring. She mentioned that when she gets shy or stressed, she tends to frown. She said that was her natural facial expression! It's funny because it's sort of true, her mouth does turn down a bit and like I said she has such sharp, intelligent eyes. And if you've read her writing or her livejournal, you know how smart and passionate she is, so she can be intimidating. But then, if you've read her livejournal, you know she's actually not intimidating at all. She's nice and normal and open minded and bizarrely (in my opinion) humble about her talent. I told her that when I get shy and stressed I tend to smile and smile until I hate smiling--that could be part of the reason people keep thinking I'm younger than I am.

Anyway, what I am trying to tell you is that we were totally BONDING, Reader.

And then whomever she was waiting for arrived and she INTRODUCED ME as "Jennifer, my BEA buddy" or something cute like that. So I told her it was nice to see her again, and to have a great time at WisCon. And then she gave me a measured look and said, "You know what? We can hug."

HUG

I love love love that she said that, because I am not a hugger. You know this. I may seem like a hugger as I apparently seem very sweet and cheerful and I'm short or whatever, but make no mistake: I don't hug people I don't know. Melissa--my twin sister--and I truly didn't hug each other until we were adults because it "felt too weird." So for CV to decide we could hug made me laugh and made me so happy! So we hugged and I said good bye and it was super awesome!

And CV's book Fairyland made the New York Times Bestseller List and I am anxiously awaiting my copy from the local bookstore. Can't wait!!!

BEA 2011: Wednesday...no, Tuesday again!

2011-06-16T10:20:00.008-04:00

Okay, Reader. BEA 2011 feels like it was a bazillion years ago, at least in blog years. In my defense, things have been a little crazy here. Please forgive me.

After my epic Tuesday recap, I realized that Wednesday and Thursday couldn't really compete. Therefore, they are getting smooshed into one post. And they are going to like it!! And so are you.

So, now that a bazillion blog years have passed, I'm thinking back to BEA 2011 through the haze of nostalgia. That means that all those little annoyances are fading.

For example, I decided to take my time getting coffee before I got to the booth on Wednesday. This is because on Tuesday I had been the SECOND EMPLOYEE to show up at my booth and I'm not even technically an employee. The first employee was a sales rep, who immediately asked how old I was.

Reader, do you know of a charmingly clever way of deflecting this question?

You see, I will be THIRTY in less than a year's time and that is apparently a kiss of death for women. It's as if our uteruses stop working and our boobs fall off and we are no longer technically women at all. That's the sort of reaction people seem to have about this particular birthday.

I guess I don't look like I'm almost thirty and that's supposed to be a good thing or whatever. But, it's awkward. And it's rude when people ask. I bet men never get this question. You know why? Because they don't have a society-imposed expiration date. So when a well past middle aged man bluntly asks my age and hears "29" he looks horrified and do you know how this makes me feel? It makes me feel like one of my boobs just started to fall off. Not a good feeling.

Okay, I just realized I am getting caught up in Tuesday again. Bad, naughty Tuesday! Not to mention all those little annoyances that had supposedly faded into the haze of nostalgia.

Let's start over...NEW POST! NEW CUP!
(original John Tenniel illustration for Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)

Tales From the Used Book Store: Self Help via Fitzgerald

2011-06-14T20:07:00.007-04:00

I absolutely adore this cover. There's no doubt in my mind that "S. Alexander Ward" is in fact the pen name of Jay Gatsby (aka James Gatz).

He really wanted to call it "How to Overcome Laziness and Achieve Your Goal of Marrying Daisy Buchanan" but his publisher thought that might narrow the target audience a little too much. (I mean, Daisy is pretty and all, but not EVERYONE wants to marry her--take Nick, for example.)

I also love how Jay--oh, excuse me, S. Alexander used himself as a model for the cover. Look at him leaping with joy! I'm sure anyone who looks at that cover thinks to himself, "That young man is ready to move to the better Egg!" And he's like "Check out my SOCKS. They match my mothereffing SHIRT. You can't be lazy if you're going to coordinate your clothes, am I right? You gotta get up early to plan that shit."

And there's Daisy, in the background AS USUAL, staring us down with her creepy eyes. Yeah, Daisy. We get it. You're there and you're not going anywhere because you married up and no one can take that away from you--even stupid trashy women who sleep with your husband. You can just hit them with a car and get away with it. No problem. She's all, "I should have written this book. I can even make lying around look romantic and productive. Beat that, Jay. Beat. That."

BEA 2011: Tuesday Part III

2011-06-09T09:24:00.010-04:00

Okay, Reader. This will be the LAST post I write on Tuesday of BEA 2011. Promise. Geez, Tuesday was a full day, huh?

So, when we left off last time, I was standing in an almost empty aisle, promoting my last book of the day on very sore feet with an empty glass of champagne in my hand.

Then I met up with my friends at Soho Press to help them setup for the party! But first, we had to eat.

We went to a nice Mexican place, the name of which I can't remember. The important things to know are these: the sangria was amazing and they made guacamole fresh at the table for you! I have labeled the photo I took for emphasis.I could have drank sangria and eaten guacamole all night! It was so fun to have dinner with some of the lovely and talented ladies of Soho Press, including author Cara Black, my temporary roommate.

After dinner, we headed over to the Housing Works Bookstore Cafe, where Soho's 25th Anniversary Party was held. It was SUCH an amazing space. Of course as soon as we got there, I locked my enormous bag with my camera in a back room so I have no photos. I borrowed a couple from the internet to show you.
This is the outside of the building. Do you not love it?? I snagged this photo from a cool website called Bookstore People, which reviews independent bookstores. I love stumbling onto cool websites!

Here's another shot of the inside of the cafe. I borrowed this image from the flickr account for NewYorkDailyPhoto.com

I started drooling when I saw the staircase. The bookstore is a creaky, dark wood, two floored fantasy, complete with a BAR and incredibly nice, smart, and helpful staff. I bet that when they aren't assisting customers or hosting book events, most of them are working on books of their own.

The Housing Works Bookstore Cafe is actually part of the larger Housing Works organization, which is dedicated to raising money for and awareness of AIDS and homelessness. To quote their site, "Since our founding, we have provided lifesaving services, such as housing, primary care, job training, and legal help, to more than 20,000 homeless and low-income New Yorkers living with HIV/AIDS."

Bookstore + a Good Cause + Soho Press 25th Anniversary Party = One Awesome Night!

Right?

Well, of course. It also equals a room full of industry professionals I didn't know. Eek. I am not great at mingling. I have this thing where I don't want to "burden" anyone or "be in the way." I inherited this from my grandmother. So first I went into Editorial Assistant mode and helped set up the food. More and more people flooded the cafe. I couldn't see the few faces I knew. My first thought was to hide in a corner. Then I thought, "get a drink first."

Right. Drink first, then find a corner. This was like freshman year of college all over again except at that time I would have just held the beer (without drinking it) so no one would ask me if I wanted a drink (non drinking college kids out there, this trick really works!). So I elbowed my way to the open bar and got a beer that I had never heard of before. It tasted like...beer. Okay, now I just needed a corner to hide in...

I turned around and bumped into Juliet! A friendly face! It was a good feeling. Juliet introduced me to her lovely friend the Shameful Baker. Then another friendly face, my friend Faye from Sirens, appeared. Thankfully, both women were tired and not entirely eager to work the crowd. We managed to find an open table upstairs where we could talk books while watching the crowd below. The Shameful Baker's agent friend showed up, so the four of us hung out and had a great time!

I had such an amazing time talking books with these women. We seemed to have similar reading tastes, which was so much fun, including Fantasy and Young Adult. In my life I've had very few female friends who read the same books as me, so I'm so grateful for every woman who does. I had such a good time that the party went by in a snap.

Then it was time to go. Juliet, in black patent leather heels, accidentally stole a cab from a couple cute guys. We apologized but they didn't seem to mind. Then we were off into the summer night, windows down as we drove through the lights and sounds of the city on our way home.

Coming Soon: Wednesday, in which I am reunited with a certain Author Crush from my past!

PS

2011-06-08T09:59:00.004-04:00

Sometimes when I read other writers' blogs, I feel so small. So very small. Like a child gazing up at a world that is bigger and taller than I will ever be.

"Get thee off the internet!" shouts Kenneth Branagh.

Oh, Kenneth. You always know just what to say.

Interlude for the Writer

2011-06-08T09:18:00.002-04:00

Since you've followed me through the dark forest that was my revised chapter 4 for The Charmed Bracelet, I thought I should let you know that it's "done." As in, I've passed it on to a fearless beta reader and today I am officially moving on to chapter 5.

Can I get a, "Huzzah?" HUZZAH!

While we're on the subject, The Charmed Bracelet as a title is not working for me anymore, simply because I'm worried that it will scare away boys. Then again, a book written by a woman with a female protagonist might scare them off anyway, but I'd like to give the boys the benefit of the doubt. What do you think?

In other news, I've got a new story idea coagulating in my head. I might be able to combine it with my old apocalyptic story idea, but I'm not sure. Mostly right now I've got a little scrapbook going in my brain, with bits and pieces of the world and the main character.

It's not set in the same world as The Charmed Bracelet. The only troubling thing is that I've already got two other faerie stories waiting in the wings: my lose retelling of Snow White and Rose Red about twin sisters and my story about Betony Monroe the Italian American half dryad who inherits a bookstore from her Great Aunt and a whole lot more besides.

Also, if you couldn't tell, my stories start with people, not plot. I wish plot came a little more naturally to me. We've all got our strengths and weaknesses, I suppose, our different strategies.

Here ends my writing update. Thanks for reading!

BEA 2011: Tuesday Part II

2011-06-07T20:56:00.006-04:00

Tuesday was rolling along at a steady pace. I had an author signing every 30 minutes. My feet hurt. I was giving passerby a very convincing "Don't mind me, I'm just randomly spouting off blurbs about this here FREE book. Not because I'm trying to pitch it to you, of course. You just happened to walk into my blurb. But, you know, if you want a FREE book, you could have it signed by the author, who is standing right there. Did I mention it's FREE" look.

Everything was going well.

Then I saw Rosemary Wells.

I began the conversation in my usual charming, casual fashion:

ME: Rosemary Wells...?

WELLS: Yes?

ME (thinking: AHHHHHHHOLYSHITZOMGZOMGZOMG): I love your books. My favorite one is out of print!

WELLS: (somewhat nonplussed by this) Someone should reprint it then.

ME: I know! It's Stanley and Rhoda. It's one of my favorite books. My Dad used to read it out loud. We quote it all the time. You know the one about the babysitter--

WELLS: (Without missing a beat or cracking a smile, she names the babysitter character, which is probably also the name of the story--there are three within the book. I can't even find the name now, using the power of the internet.)

ME: (babbling at this point) Yes!! And then when their parents come home and Rhoda says, "Don't be home yet!" And that is something my family quotes all the time...

--At this point, Rosemary Wells managed to sort of drift away without being blatantly rude but also without being gracious or saying good bye--

I guess I geeked out on her...more than a little bit. But believe me when I say that she did not make the conversation easy. However, I don't care. She is ROSEMARY WELLS. That book is one of the most memorable of my childhood. Plus, that book came out in March 1981. She might be sick of talking about her old books when she has new ones coming out. Or maybe she's just not super friendly to fans. Or, I scared her.

Sorry, Rosemary.

In my defense, I was chatting with a HarperCollins employee on Thursday and she said she had a similarly awkward experience when she met (and admittedly geeked out over) Rosemary Wells. So it's not just me, Reader.

Later, I dealt with a very very rude author and her publisher. When I tried to ask what the blurb was for her wannabe poor woman's Maeve Binchy novel (That's RIGHT. The gloves are off!), the publisher looked down her nose at me, shoved a postcard for the book in my face and said, "You're supposed to be helping us. Go hand these out."

And that is just one example of the rudeness of these people.

So I stood there, pushing postcards at people as they walked by. Not saying a word. And you know how they reacted? By avoiding me.

Thank you for the advice, rude writer and publisher. I bust my butt at BEA for the authors I work with. I have to say, I'm good at it. All the other writers/ publishers I've worked with have said so. I also want to add that this duo co-opted a fellow publisher's (under the Midpoint umbrella) intern for their own purposes and were rude to her as well.

Then I got upset. And I took a walk. And everyone at Midpoint could tell I was not happy because I am generally so smiley and I was NOT. (I do have a temper, you know.) This was towards the end of the day, so an incredibly kind and generous fellow Midpoint employee snagged me a glass of champagne from some party happening elsewhere on the floor. I even saw Flava Flav from a distance. That didn't really cheer me up, though. Flava Flav at a book expo?

REALLY, Publishing Industry?

Your BEA keynote speakers are always celebrities like Julianne Moore (I love her but don't even get me started on those Freckleface Strawberry books...) and Jon Stewart and then you've got Flava Flav, who can barely speak in complete sentences. And whose name is FLAVA FLAV.

Really.

Anyway, after the champagne, I felt better. Bubbly, even. HA. And then I was whisked off to the amazing, super fantastic Soho Press 25th Anniversary Party!!

But this post is too long already so there will have to be a Part III. Alas, there are no pictures. I need to start wearing a fanny pack.

BEA 2011: Tuesday

2011-06-07T09:23:00.004-04:00

Tuesday morning came way too soon considering that Cara Black had arrived at Juliet's apartment around Midnight. What followed was Cara and Juliet sitting on her bed and me on the pullout on the floor, listening to Cara describe the novel she's currently working on. It was sort of this hilarious publishing industry sleepover moment. I couldn't believe I was sitting there while an author and her editor talked about her new book while we were all in our pjs.

It would have been awesome if they braided each other's hair too, right? It was like a teen dream of mine had come true except that I couldn't keep my eyes open. And then once the lights were turned out and I could hear the other two breathing, my body said, "I'M AWAKE NOW!" And I stared at the ceiling until finally...I...

heard the alarm go off at 5:30 AM. We stumbled around in relative good cheer, considering that Juliet was set to speak on a panel first thing and Cara had an author signing. What followed was a quest to locate coffee, culminating in us stopping at a--

wait for it

SBARRO for croissants and coffee. Iced coffee for me and no croissant. Sbarro. I tell you: only in New York.

To be fair, the coffee was good. But it felt hilarious walking around with that big cup in the colors of the Italian flag first thing in the morning.

Fortified with caffeine, I braced myself for the first signing of BEA. It's always a tough one. People are still wandering in to the Javits Center. They are still suspicious of free books. In no less than two hours this will change and they will be so hungry for free books that some booths have to GLUE DOWN the books that they aren't giving away.

Yes, they really do glue them down.

Anyway, as luck would have it, my first author was Charlene Costanzo who was signing copes of her book The Thirteenth Gift. Charlene is well known for her book The Twelve Gifts of Birth, for which she filmed an episode of Oprah--though, sadly, it never aired. That's still a huge accomplishment for a writer. Charlene and her husband were incredibly warm and gracious and helpful. Staring the day with them was a wonderful feeling--even better than iced coffee from Sbarro.

Now, a little something about Charlene's book The Thirteenth Gift. It's a modern fable exploring the reason why people all over the world are drawn to pick up stones and keep them. Try saying that as wary people walked by first thing in the morning. I got a lot of jaded looks, a few eye rolls.

But then a person would hear me and as soon as I said, "pick up stones" the person would stop dead.

"I do that!!" they'd say. "I need to read this book."

The people who responded to the idea behind this book were incredibly excited. (Note: they also tended to be women wearing the kind of beaded, new age jewelry that keeps the entire town of Tuscon, Arizona in business.) It made me realize that for a new writer, the reactions of the other people could have been crushing. The writer might have limped away, feeling like their book was silly and no one cared about stones or fables. But the reaction of the people for whom the book was written was wonderful to see. In short, writers: remember your audience and don't let the other people get you down.

Charlene was smart, too. She brought these adorable stones, individually packaged with a tag promoting the book. She encourage people to take one. It was something to talk about with people other than her book and I noticed that people were intrigued by something free that wasn't book-shaped.

Now it's time to head to the bookstore. Tuesday Part II will have to wait! But come back for it because there's champagne and even Flava Flav makes an appearance...

Friday Cuteness

2011-06-03T09:14:00.006-04:00

Not feeling it this Friday?

Watch this video of a little boy giving an inspired speech after learning to ride a bike for the first time (alas I couldn't embed but it's only a youtube link and well worth the click).

If you do, you'll be ready to conquer that revision, or that meeting with your manager, or that pile of laundry, or...the world.

THUMBS UP, EVERYBODY!

Watch it now

Speaking of riding bikes, I just want to say *good luck* to my amazing Dad, who is riding his fifth century ride (yes, 100 miles!!) for Team in Training this Sunday in Lake Tahoe. Over those five years of fundraising and riding, he has raised approximately $27,000 towards wiping out blood cancers for good!! You can read more about his ride and Team in Training at his TNT page here.

Sometimes riding a bike is an epic adventure.

BEA 2011: Monday

2011-06-02T07:56:00.015-04:00

Okay, Reader. This is when I wish I had taken notes on BEA so I could remember everything I wanted to tell you about. Let's start at the beginning. I arrived at the Javits Center on Monday to help set up, which I've never done before. It looked like this:

The booth for Candlewick Press with Scholastic in the distance.

Here is the Midpoint Trade Books booth, still a work in progress. This is where I work during BEA running the author signings for a variety of small publishers. The books for the various signings didn't arrive until late in the day so Monday involved a lot of sitting around and waiting with our fingers crossed.

As you can see, things weren't quite ready on Monday.

BEA doesn't come alive until the floor opens on Tuesday. That's when the Javits Center is flooded with readers, writers, and industry professionals whose life work is making books. I think that's why I was slightly unimpressed on Monday.

After work, I met up with my friend Juliet and her coworker Ailen (who shares my love of Kenshin and Fullmetal Alchemist!!). It's so thrilling to be surrounded by people who talk books all day long. Then we went back to Juliet's apartment to await the arrival of one of her authors Cara Black.

Cara writes the Aimée Leduc mystery series, which is set in Paris. Essentially I had a sleepover with a senior editor and a successful mystery writer (one of these things is not like the other...).

I can't speak to Cara's writing--yet, but I will soon! I got a signed ARC of her latest book MURDER AT THE LANTERNE ROUGE. I even got to cut the signing line to get it so I could rush back to my own booth (thank you kind signing line people!!)The book doesn't come out until March 2012. That plus the fact that I was temporarily Cara's roommate makes me feel very fancy, I must say.So, once I read the book, I will review it. Until then, I can only say that Cara is incredibly lovely, an instantly likable person. She's the kind of person who makes friends with all sorts of people, who then show her all sorts of things in Paris that a regular person will never see. And of course these amazing adventures turn up in her books. To get an insight into her charming personality, listen to her NPR interview from 2009.

Cara arrive sometime around midnight, wearing all black and looking chic. Juliet and I were already in our pjs. The three of us went to bed, and they fell asleep while I stared up at the ceiling and wondered what Tuesday would bring...

Tuesday Preview: It involves some serious book pimping, Rosemary Wells, and a fancy publishing party!

New York Hangover

2011-05-31T22:04:00.002-04:00

I owe you some major blog posts about BEA 2011! I've been meaning to catch you all up on my adventures--everything from nasty author signings to unexpected author hugs (hugs!!)--but I've been so so so very tired.

The thing about New York that always takes me off guard is the pace. There's no time for breakfast. There's no time to buy food so that you have something to eat for breakfast. You get coffee and you go--fast!

It's also the pace of BEA. It's not just the convention itself, it's being surrounded by like-minded, book-loving, super smart people. I soak it up. I really did spend every night wide awake until after 1 AM, just staring at the ceiling and reliving every second. I don't think I got more than 4-5 hours of sleep on any night of my trip!

And now that I'm coming down from the "high" I'm really starting to miss it. I miss my friends--two very different friends who let me stay at their apartments on opposite ends of New York. I miss leaning across a tiny table at a party, nursing a beer and talking books with a group of young, smart women. I miss pretending I was one of those women.

Maybe I could have been one of those women.

I chose to go a different route. I chose this. And I love writing. I love being in a place with trees and a hiking path behind my apartment. But sometimes in life you come across a person you might have loved or a lifestyle you might have had and you just get caught up in the possibilities of what might have been.

Tomorrow I will have to set that aside. I will embrace the what is. I will go to the bookstore. I will kickbox. I will do some writing. And I will be very happy.

But for tonight, I will give myself a little more time to dream...

BEA 2011: Is The Thrill Gone?

2011-05-23T20:48:00.003-04:00

So my trip to New York has gone well so far. Contrary to what you might have expected given my previous posts, I did not curl up in the shadow of the tall buildings and cry myself to sleep. I slapped on my game face and handled my shit thankyouverymuch. I managed to get myself to the Javits Center today with minimal assistance and to get myself back to my friend all on my own! So, patting myself on the back for this small victory.

The day was slow--all set up. I've never been to BEA on the day before. It was weird. This is my third time working at this expo (the only expo I ever have worked at, to be clear). Is the relationship getting old? I felt like I'd see all the posters, all the booths before. And I kept thinking about how there's no way expos like this are going to continue...are they? They are such a big expense for publishers and for what? To keep in touch? Industry professionals can easily do that now thanks to the internet. I don't know. It's seems like maybe a dying tradition. We'll see if the magic returns tomorrow when the authors and, perhaps more importantly, the attendees arrive.

Seriously, if anyone can bring magic to a book expo, it's the unfailingly curious and delightful and friendly librarians. I do so love librarians at BEA.

Tomorrow I get to go to a party. A real industry party. Also the Marketing Director told people today that I'm "in charge of author signings." I'm going to consider that a promotion, you guys. Perhaps I've risen above the rank of common street book pimp. What say you?

Today I also had TWO OPTIONS for what to do after we were done setting up. TWO. And I even bumped into my Sirens friend Faye. Woohoo! I bumped into someone I knew! Other good news: the Midpoint booth where I work is in sight of the Autographing Station. Carrie Jones, Melissa Marr, Laini Taylor are all going to be there. With any luck I'll be able to attend something that involves them. I thought Flux wasn't there this year and I was so bummed but they are, in fact, there. Huzzah! And Small Beer Press will be in the house too. Nice.

Not So Very Important Announcements

2011-05-21T21:28:00.003-04:00

1. I don't feel sick-to-my-stomach nervous about my trip anymore. Yay! See, it's all part of my elaborate planning ahead strategy. I get the jitters out of the way days--sometimes weeks--in advance. By the time the actual event arrives, I'm too worn out to be nervous anymore. It makes PERFECT SENSE.

2. I'm thinking I need to get me some Facebook friends who comment on every picture of me and say things like:

"OMG you are so gorgeous."

"It hurts to look at you grrl!"

"How did you get so beautiful?"

"I miss your pretty face!!"

You see, sometimes I get jealous. But then I think, "Wait. Those people drive me crazy." My friends tend to not be the fluffy complimenting kind. Maybe because I'm not like that either. Oh well. I'll just go back to my old tricks (re: calling/texting/emailing my twin right after I post a new pic and begging her to say something nice about me. Cover=blown.)

I hope I see some of you in New York! If not, see you Friday!! Stay gorgeous because OMG I want some of that sparkle that comes out of your pores instead of sweat...

(how was that? I am trying here.)

In the words of Sailor Venus, "Gotta book it!"

The Writer and The City

2011-05-21T15:46:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow I leave for New York for Book Expo America. I can't wait! Except that I'm making myself sick with nerves. I have to take a taxi. Maybe more than one. And maybe take the subway, which is fine so long as I can follow someone else around. I really hate feeling dependent on someone else, but dudes. I am going to let you in on a secret:

New York is big. Really big. The buildings crowd around you like a circle of bullies ready to kick you when you go down.

Also, you may not know this about me, but I am not exactly a city person.

Also I am not an extroverted person, I just play one at BEA when I am a book pimp ("Book pimpin, ARCS. I be book pimping. No BEA sleaze. We be book pimpin up in NYC...").

So, I'm going to smile and smile and smile and smile. And then at night I will lie awake, staring at the ceiling. And I will dream about the day when I will come to BEA as an author, not a book pimp.

Don't get me wrong. I love BEA. I love everything about it. Well, except maybe for the lack of downtime. I would love a little place where I could curl up and take a smile break. Maybe even frown a little bit--you know, get crazy.

Time to screw up my courage and get out there! I will do my best to have some adventures and misadventures so I can tell you all about it!

Low Tech High Five!

2011-05-21T15:38:00.003-04:00

Hello, Reader!! Husband and I finally got our computer working again. It's been a dark week and a half or so without a computer. Revising my novel means that I'm reliant on the computer more than usual for my writing so not being able to use it was incredibly frustrating. All of sudden I really felt like I was unemployed, rather than a writer who is also freelancing, working at a bookstore, and teaching kickboxing. It was very isolating. And of course, I missed the internet. Like really really really missed it. By midweek we had rigged up our old computer, which we have kept...for emergencies (or for sentimental reasons. I'm not sure which). All I could do was use Word. Nothing else.

But there was something good that came out of this: I remembered something I'd forgotten. Travel back in time with me, won't you? Let's go back to my childhood, around 1990 when my parents got our first computer. I was so excited. I thought it was the best toy ever. Why? Not because of games--we didn't have any. No, because I could write a story on the computer and PRINT IT OUT (all professional like) and give it to someone (like my third grade teacher, Mrs. Rust) to read. That's it. And it was awesome.

It's so easy to get caught up in the internet and get distracted from writing. I know I should be more adaptable--I should have been able to keep churning out pages on my trusty notebook. But I didn't. I couldn't. Maybe that's okay. Maybe that's just how I write.

It just means next time I better have a backup.

Tales From the Used Book Store: Oh. They Went There

2011-05-12T09:31:00.005-04:00

There are three things you should know about this book before you see the cover:

1. It's for younger readers. I'd say around fourth or fifth grade.

2. It's targeted at boys

3. It's a choose your own adventure

And this is what it's called:

Oh yes. THEY WENT THERE. Someone had the genius idea of naming a choose your own adventure story for prepubescent boys The Red Rocket.

All of this of course begs the question:

How many ways could this adventure possibly end?