SeeSaraWrite

Inspirational Nugget of the Day: Moon Harvesting

2011-10-19T10:18:00.002-04:00

So remember that Inspirational Post I did a little while back, about intergalatic space travel?

Turns out that wasn't the end of it. Very soon, it seems, we could all be powered on Moon-harvested biofuels.

From a writer's POV, what is the outlook from here? A new form of biofuel or the beginning of the end of the Moon's ever-loving presence in our sky? Apocalypse or life-saving venture?

Inspiration, AHOY!

Things that make Monday worthwhile, Part 2

2011-10-17T10:24:00.003-04:00

Last Monday I posted some good news regarding my friend Shannon Messenger.

Keeping with the good-news vein (because, let's face it, good news is INFINITELY BETTER than bad news), Shannon is hosting a WISHES COME TRUE contest in celebration of the awesomeness that is being unleashed upon the Universe in her name. Because her publisher is Aladdin.

That is so much fun it makes me squeal a little.

Shannon has clearly harnessed all the possibilities of being published by a publisher with such a FUN NAME. Not to mention that Aladdin is by far the best Disney movie, so that instantly adds two or three degrees of FUN on top of the already fun-filled excitingness of being published.

So go over there and partake in the magic wish-fulfilling that Shannon is bestowing upon us. Because you ain't never had a friend like her. YEAH!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go watch Aladdin.

The only thing that makes Monday worthwhile...

2011-10-10T10:11:00.002-04:00

...is waking up to REALLY GOOD NEWS.

Shannon is one of the MAD SCIENTISTS behind a little thing you may have heard of: WriteOnCon. She's also nice and considerate and the gosh darn cutest Rainbow Brite ever. And she's also insanely talented, which helps with the whole soon-to-be-world-famous thing.

CONGRATS, Shannon!

Inspirational Nugget of the Day: To Infinity and Beyond

2011-10-03T16:54:00.003-04:00

Soon enough, Star Wars won't be just science fiction.

The beginnings of intergalactic space travel? The start of habitation on other planets? A metaphorical quest to reach a star?

I especially love that they asked science fiction authors to be on the panels for this conference. Imagintion FTW.

Everything I know, I learned in Middle School

2011-09-30T10:57:00.004-04:00

Well, okay, not EVERYTHING. But most of the Important Things. Like hairspray is best used in moderation; velour is not a material that should be made into pants; and positive habits can be reinforced with time.

Woa. That last one was deep, no? It popped into my head today (whilst in the midst of a discussion with JR Johansson, bemoaning our existence in the publishing industry) and I thought would make a good, inspiring blog post.

I first learned this Important Thing while in the throws of eighth grade. It was a trying time in my young life; I had just transfered from public school to private, and had suffered the ridicule brought on by too much hairspray and velour pants (clearly I was a regular fashionista). One of my friends, an equally-tormented eighth grader, decided she wanted to have a crush. Because having a crush on a boy looked fun, and we were bored, and maybe it would fuel us to FOR THE LOVE OF GOD buy normal pants.

So one day my friend picked a guy in our class, a nerdy-cute awkward eighth grade boy. And from then on out, she vowed that she was in love with him.

Now, she had no interest in him at first. Barely knew his name. But as time progressed, my friend continued to feed her certainty that she was in love with him -- went out of her way to see him, giggled when he looked at her, drew hearts around his name, etc etc -- and, a few weeks later, found that she no longer had to force these reactions. She had, as much as an eighth grade girl can, fallen in love with this awkward, nerdy boy.

The moral of this story: habits can be forced. People seem to think that if they don't FEEL happy or FEEL positive, they can't be. And while I definitely do NOT condone forcing your feelings all the time, there are certain instances (like being all woe-is-me over your state of publication) where you can afford to force yourself to act happy. Because if you do it long enough (point out the good sides of things, look for silver linings, focus on the one good thing that happened instead of the five bad things), you will eventually find that you don't have to force it. Like my friend, you will one day wake up and realize you ARE, in fact, the happy person you once had to force yourself to be. Or in love with a nerdy eighth grade boy. Which would be weird. Unless you're an eighth grade girl.

For instance, I could continue bemoaning by lack-of-publication status OR I could choose to PARTY PARTY DANCE because it's Friday.

I choose to PARTY PARTY DANCE. Join me, if you will.

Inspirational Nugget of the Day: Friday Edition

2011-09-23T10:52:00.002-04:00

I'm at work, and it's Friday, and I want to be writing, but I'm a good employee, so I'M NOT.

But you should be. Because someone out there should be writing in my honor.

To help with this, here's another Inspirational Nugget of the Day, one I like very, very much and considered keeping for myself. But I like all of you very, very much too, so I'm sharing the inspiration with the world. Feel special.

http://www.foxnews.com/health/2011/09/23/new-hope-for-blind-as-europes-first-embryonic-stem-cell-trial-is-approved/

A harmless enough cure, or the beginnings of a Zombie Apocalypse? Users will only get a headache side-effect or superhuman mind/eye powers?

You decide, writers, while I sit in the throws of Corporate America, slave to The Man.

That sounded more extreme than my situation is. And it's Friday. I can't complain too much.

Inspirational Nugget of the Day

2011-09-08T10:54:00.002-04:00

For all ya'll who find yourselves staring blankly at the computer screen, at a loss for something snappy and awesome for which to write your little fingers to the bone about, behold: Sara's Inspirational Nugget of the Day.

http://www.foxnews.com/scitech/2011/09/06/tech-company-to-build-science-ghost-town-in-nm/

You're welcome, friends. Now let the inspirational juices flow!

Inspiration: Mad Gab Edition

2011-09-01T14:58:00.004-04:00

Hullo.

So, I've got my ghost book. And I like my ghost book. I've also got my pirate book, and, well, kind of goes without saying that I like my pirate book. But that's not enough. Because I'm selfish like that. So we're going to play Inspiration Mad Gab!

(It occurs to me every time I write blog posts just how often I start sentences with "so." I swear that doesn't happen in my books as much. Maybe. So maybe.)

I want/need another story idea. And, should any of the proceeding generated ideas spark an inspirational fire in you, you might just find that you want/need story ideas too. It's a win-win for all of us, really -- story ideas are generated, and you get to play Inspiration Mad Gab.

Rules are:

1) Pick an assortment of words (I trust you not to peak at the Mad Gab filler sentence at the bottom of the post. Don't break this trust, people).
2) Once you have your list, THEN and ONLY THEN may you look at the filler sentence at the bottom. Put your words in and develop a wonderfully inspirational sentence that you then post in the comments. Unless you like your wonderfullyl inspirational sentence so very much you have to keep it for yourself and a write a book about it that then becomes a bestseller. Just remember to thank my Mad Gab game in the acknowledgements.

Ready? Now, come up with:

MC name
adjective
noun
location
noun
Span of time
event
noun/thing
verb past tense
verb
verb
noun
verb
Secondary Character name
verb
noun

Remember, the more obscure the words you pick, the more inspirational the sentence will be. Guaranteed. Maybe.

I'll wait while you come up with words.

*twiddles thumbs*

Got it? Now using the words you came up with, in the order you came up with them, plug them into:

[MC name] is a/an [adjective] [noun] who lives [location] and has a [noun]. [Span of time] has passed since [event] during which all of [MC name]'s [noun/thing] were [verb past tense]. This has made [MC name] [verb]. In order to [verb] the [noun], [MC name] must [verb] with [Secondary Character name] and [verb] the [noun].

Though personally, I'm a fan of verbing the noun.

And...GO!

A Pirate State of Mind

2011-08-26T07:00:00.007-04:00

I'm trying to get back into a Pirate State of Mind. I figured you should too. Because, let's face it, pirates are highly under-represented.

Happy Friday, and here's hoping your weekend is filled with piratic adventures!

Thoughts for The Universe

2011-08-24T18:34:00.006-04:00

1) It's my birthday this Friday.

2) I feel the need to remind The Universe of a certain deal-io I made a few months back.

3) It's rude to keep people waiting when they make deals, isn't it?

4) I'd expect The Universe to have THE BEST etiquette in the world. Being, you know, the very essence that created good etiquette.

All of these things lead to only one rational conclusion, don't they? Now, I'm not about to go telling The Universe what to do, but...a nudge. We'll call it a nudge.

*nudges Universe*

WORLD DOMINATION

2011-08-18T17:10:00.002-04:00

JR Johansson is taking over the WORLD, people.

Remember that post I did about why Germany is awesome? Well, read it again, but instead of "Germany" substitute "Italy."

Yep.

INSOMNIA just sold in ITALY. So not only will Parker (Insomnia's snarky and dark MC) get to feast on brats and pretzels, he'll also get Gelato and pasta and sexy Italian men. Or, well, Parker probably won't want sexy Italian men. I'll leave the sexy Italian men-getting to JR. As long as she gets plenty to share. And if she mixes up sexy Italian men with Gelato I'll be okay with that too.

YAY, Europe! They clearly know what is awesome. Not that I doubted Europe. I mean, c'mon. Europe.

WHO ARE YOU?

2011-08-11T22:04:00.002-04:00

I tweeted for help with this, but I'm going to blog it too. Because that's how much I need help.

*tries to think of something snappy to lead into the problem*

*no cookies in the house*

*can't think of anything snappy*

I'M TERRIBLE WITH CHARACTER ARCS.

There. I said it.

No matter how much I research and/or tweak and/or re-read and/or revise, my character arcs are always the last thing, the very very very last thing, to come into being. Ordinarily, having one thing that always must be done last isn't a bad thing -- but this one is. Because of the sheer amount of time that is wasted while wrestling with those bleep bleeping arcs.

In my head, there are certain detailed character arcs through a book:

1) Introduction of the Character (usually the first few chapters of a book)

2) First Emotionally Distressing Event (wherein the character encounters what should be the first event in which you see a change in his/her normally delightful persona)

3) Character Leveling (wherein the character regains composure and implements his/her new slight emotional depth into his/her normally delightful persona)

(2 and 3 can repeat a few tiny times)

4) Second Emotionally Distressing Event (in or near the climax of the book wherein the character encounters The Event that the whole book has been working toward and should, in theory, change the character for the better. Or the worse, if you're into that kind of thing)

5) Character Release (wherein the character accepts all the changes that have happened -- whether or not he/she consciously makes that decision -- and becomes the ultimate and well-rounded person we come to know and love)

Easy, right? Once you see laid out all pretty?

Wrong-o.

For whatever reason, I cannot get my characters from 1 to 3 in a smooth, believable arc. My character arcs are more Character Death Roller Coasters of Doom. And then they get nauseous and I get nauseous and everyone gets nauseous.

So my questions are: how do you get from 1 to 3 and 3 to 5 without making everyone involved in the process nauseous from all the jumping about? How soon is too soon for a character to accept his/her Character Leveling? What are your tricks for smoothly inserting a new, more fully-formed persona into your character by the end of the book?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go get my characters some Pepto. Why they continue to put up with me, I'll never know.

Yay, Flutterbies! Butterflies! And all things that utter

2011-08-04T18:22:00.003-04:00

I went on a writing retreat recently and had the pleasure of (re)meeting Michelle Davidson Argyle. She takes (awe-inducing) photographs and writes about Monarch butterflies and spies and murder. If that isn't a weird enough combination to get you to go "Hm...", then I don't know what is.

As I have become accustomed lately to doing blog posts regarding the exciting news of friends, I am deeply excited to show you this:

Michelle's book, Monarch, will be sitting cozily on bookshelves everywhere starting September 15th. And, like any good soon-to-be-released author, Michelle has all kinds of fantastic giveaway goodies on her blog.

She also has links to all of the blogs she'll be a-hopping to during her blog tour. And let me tell ya, girl knows how to TOUR. She ain't taking no prisoners. And neither should you. Unless that prisoner is Monarch. Then take it and read it and be merry.

Why Germany is Awesome: A Tale by Sara Raasch

2011-08-01T17:46:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time, I met a girl named Jenn. Her crit group was looking for another member and me, well, I was looking for a crit group. Destiny.

Jenn was funny. And clever. And had the most amazing red hair that made me want to find a rock and spring up on it while singing the climatic part of Little Mermaid's "Part of Your World."

She wrote a book. A book about a boy who couldn't sleep. And a lot of other really terrifying things. But the point is it was terrifying YA horror stuff, and guess who loves terrifying YA horror stuff?

This place.

(Germany)

And one day she got word that the Germans loved her book about a boy who couldn't sleep so very very much that they bought it. And hugged it. And stroked it a bit.

That buying and hugging and stroking looked like this:

Germany rights to INSOMNIA by J.R. Johansson, a debut YA supernatural/psychological thriller, about a teen boy who thought spending every night trapped in other people's dreams was bad, but discovers that losing control of his own body and mind is so much worse, sold to Heyne Flieght in a TWO-BOOK deal at auction by Agence Hoffman, on behalf of Taryn Fagerness Agency and Kathleen Rushall of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency.

And they all lived happily ever after. Because it's FREAKIN GERMANY, people. I mean, they INVENTED FAIRY TALES, so good endings have to happen there.

The moral of the story: JENN SOLD HER BOOK TO FREAKIN GERMANY.

Go tell her congrats. And how much better her story is than this wee tale.

Supernatural Things in SLC

2011-07-21T16:02:00.003-04:00

Yeah. That's right. SUPERNATURALLY is sitting on a shelf in a SLC B&N. FIVE FULL DAYS before it's due to come out.

Be jealous.

New Blog 'do

2011-07-20T23:25:00.001-04:00

Thought it was long overdue for a change. Like? Dislike? Suggestions? I'll probably toy around with it for awhile, so if you come across anything you JUST CAN'T STAND, tell me, and I'll get my pirates to fix it right away.

Because pirates are surprisingly good with graphic design. I know, right?

Time to dance, ya'll

2011-07-08T13:09:00.002-04:00

So, I moved to Utah in March. When I tell people this, they usually respond in one of a few ways:

1) "Why?"

2) "Why?!"

To both of those questions, I usually respond with: "Well, I have a lot of friends in Utah."

Which is partially true.

Now, I do have a lot of friends in Utah. I've met a bunch of people and hang out with lots of awesome writer-folk on a monthly basis. But when I moved here in March, I had one writer friend in Utah. And that friend, ladies and gentlemen, was Natalie Whipple.

Natalie has been one of my online writer buds for, oh, a few years now. Last fall, when I was nearing the end of my degree and had no freakin' idea what I was going to do with my life, she said, "Move to Utah." To which I replied, "Oh, yeah. Utah. Sure." Never thinking I would take the leap to move across the country, I visited her in September via a gift from The Parents to "check it out" should I decide to actually move there.

And now here I am, chilling in my apartment in Salt Lake City. This move has turned into one of the best decisions of my life. I'm happy. And it's all because one dear writer-friend dared to host me in her condo for a week last year and gently encouraged me every time I got anxious/scared/upset/angry-with-life to move to Utah. Natalie has been a constant source of encouragement for me, which is why I am THRILLED THRILLED AND EXCITED to get to share this exciting news with all ya'll:

Natalie Whipple’s debut novel TRANSPARENT, pitched as X-Men meets The Godfather, in which an invisible girl has to stop her dad—an infamous crime lord—from ruining her life, to Erica Sussman at HarperTeen, in a two-book deal, by Anna Webman at Curtis Brown.

In the summer of 2013, the world will be able to bask in the sheer awesomeness of a Natalie Whipple Original. I have been a huge fangirl of her books since she let me read her since-resting Ninja Novel, and not only does she know how to crank them out (with 13+ novels already FINISHED), she knows how to crank them out WELL. TRANSPARENT is no different. I mean, come on -- XMEN meets THE GODFATHER. Are you drooling yet?

So go over and give Natalie a cyber squeal of excitement and a celebratory cheer. She is now among the realm of the published authors. I can't think of anyone more deserving!

Snippet. Maybe.

2011-06-30T09:48:00.003-04:00

I keep wanting to post a snippet from my current WIP, which I am oh so proud of in all its ghostly and snarky humor glory. But for the first time EVER I am experiencing major book selfishness, ie: I CANT LET ANYONE WHO HASNT PLACED THEIR HAND ON MY LAPTOP AND SWORN AN OATH READ IT BECAUSE THE AWESOMENESS WOULD DIMINISH OR SOMETHING.

So you understand then why I don't post a snippet. Lest the universe collapse around my book.

But what I CAN post, and what I thought you'd all appreciate, is a list of curse words I've compiled for my MC. She's Jewish, see, and while she's not a perfect Jew, she does harness the awesomeness that is the Yiddish language. In other words, today you will learn some Yiddish! Because when you're insulting someone, it's best to do it in the language of God's people. Amen.

Alter kahker – someone who is lazy/useless
Chutzpah – something unbelievable
Kibbitz – to butt in
Putz – fool, jerk
Shlemazl – chronic bad luck
Shlemiel – socially unadjusted person
Shmeer – spread on food

And my personal favorite:

Shmuck – a, um, certain part of the male anatomy. Namely a certain part of a certain part of the male anatomy that is sometimes removed. And sometimes not. Google it.

Dontcha feel smarter now? Start sprinkling your every day speech with such fantastically tongue-rolling Yiddish words as this and you'll be well on your way to being a friend all your friends envy. Probably.

OMG COVER

2011-06-27T11:42:00.005-04:00

So, Jill has a cover, ya'll. And can we talk for a moment about cover lotteries, and how much win Jill has in hers?

I mean, LOOK AT IT.

The cover says it all. Sometimes you just can't look away.

For those wondering what such a gorgeous cover could be hiding within itself, here's a summary:
Vee Bell is certain of one irrefutable truth—her sister’s friend Sophie didn’t kill herself. She was murdered.

Vee knows this because she was there. Everyone believes Vee is narcoleptic, but she doesn’t actually fall asleep during these episodes: When she passes out, she slides into somebody else’s mind and experiences the world through that person’s eyes. She’s slid into her sister as she cheated on a math test, into a teacher sneaking a drink before class. She learned the worst about a supposed “friend” when she slid into her during a school dance. But nothing could have prepared Vee for what happens one October night when she slides into the mind of someone holding a bloody knife, standing over Sophie’s slashed body.

Vee desperately wishes she could share her secret, but who would believe her? It sounds so crazy that she can’t bring herself to tell her best friend, Rollins, let alone the police. Even if she could confide in Rollins, he has been acting off lately, more distant, especially now that she’s been spending more time with Zane.

Enmeshed in a terrifying web of secrets, lies, and danger and with no one to turn to, Vee must find a way to unmask the killer before he or she strikes again.

A few days late, but worth the wait

2011-05-18T10:22:00.002-04:00

Hey, I can rhyme!

Ahem.

So on Monday for my Marketing Post about Something I Love Love and Adore, I was going to do a whole raving review of the video game Assassin's Creed, and how The Boyfriend and I are so madly addicted to it that we named our cat Ezio (which greatly confused the vet), and how when I found out at a GameStop that the 4th game will be released in November, I promptly squealed and shook the magazine the announcement was in, much to the shock of the GameStop employees (note to gamer boys everywhere: GIRLS LIKE GAMES TOO).

But I decided to hold off on that post, lest you all get to see my nerdy gamer side.

Turns out holding off was written in the stars, as today I stumbled across a FANTABULOUS post by one of the cutest, most talented writers on the blogosphere: Kasie West. Apparently she got this deal, see ,with a wee house called HARPER FREAKIN TEEN, for her YA book that I have heard so many people rave about I bet they reacted to its publication much like I reacted to the AC #4 release announcement. Squealing and computer-shaking.

So go squeal and shake your computer over her announcement, because PIVOT POINT is going to blow. your. mind. Luckily Assassin's Creed 4 comes out before PIVOT POINT (most likely) will, so I shall have something to occupy my time while I anxiously wait for this book I have heard oh so much about.

Squee, Kasie!

Marketing Monday: A little late to the game...

2011-05-09T21:06:00.003-04:00

...but better late than never, eh?

So I'm currently temping as a data entry clerk. During this job, I have the freedom to listen to music and such, but music is only good for about an hour or so. Thus I decided to branch into audiobooks.

Which are awesome.

Seriously.

I downloaded Leviathan. Finished it in a day (not that that's terribly impressive -- it was only 8 hours of listening). Downloaded Behemouth. Still working on it, but will finish it soon. Suffice to say this has been an exciting trip back into the world o' steampunk, a world I haven't visited since I started White Like Ashes after Stream Pirate and left it behind.

But ya'll, steampunk is cool.

In what other world could you have air cannons and flying mechanical beastie-zeppelins and giant metal spiders with machine guns attached? Unfortunately this genre's rise to fame lasted all of about a month, but it still holds a place near and dear in my heart. After all, it spawned a super sexy one-eyed pirate in my little writing world. That and that alone makes it worthy of this week's Marketing Monday.

So yay Scott Westerfeld for bringing about a story of great awesomeness. Here, here, steampunk!

Writing Wednesday: Lovable Bad Guys

2011-05-04T21:11:00.002-04:00

Hey, I remembered to post today! *gives self a cookie*

My current (and perpetual) WIP is a Ghost Book. Ooo, spooky. It'd be really easy (and fun) to make the "bad guy" ("bad guy" sounds like such a kiddish term. But antagonist sounds too uppity. Dilemma.) one of those evil and twisted bad guys who lurks in corners or murders people in their sleep or something equally delightful. Which is expected in a Ghost Book, and happens in mine. Fear not.

But I always like to make things a bit more -- interesting.

I've always been in love with the idea of a lovable bad guy. One of those bad guys you find yourself rooting for until, you know, they get everyone killed. Like Lord Marke in Tristan and Isolde (I can only think of movie references now. I blame my mono brain). Granted, he wasn't the "evil evil" bad guy, but he was the obstacle that kept Isolde from being with Tristan. He was just so gosh darn lovable, to the point where I almost wanted Isolde to realize the value of her marital vows and tell Tristan to get over himself.

What made Lord Marke so gosh darn lovable was how much we knew about him. We knew his background, saw his wife and unborn child get murdered, saw him sacrifice a limb (literally) to save Tristan. He was flawed and passionate and stood for something, and we knew exactly what he was fighting for the entire movie. And this thing that he was fighting for hit home even more by being something we ourselves could fight for.

The trick of making a bad guy a lovable bad guy is just that -- making his fight just as understandable and sympathetic as the MC's. Though whatever the bad guy is fighting for is ultimately something that will change the MC's world in a negative way, it should be understandable. The bad guy's motives and reasoning should be as clear as the MC's, even if whatever the bad guy wants isn't something we as readers would want.

Something I don't say often

2011-05-02T10:03:00.002-04:00

So, if you know me, you know I'm a bit anti...medication. Or, well, that's not entirely right -- I'm more anti-throwing-medication-at-every-ache-and-pain-and-twitch. Probably goes back to when I was younger and sickly for many a years and my conversations with doctors would go like this:

Doctor: What seems to be the problem?

Me: *describes various ailments that no doubt have to do with stomach issues*

Doctor: Ah. I see. *writes prescriptions* Take this. Come back in two weeks. If it doesn't kill you, we'll up the dosage.

Okay, well, maybe they didn't say it exactly like that. But it sure felt like that's what they did.

Anyway, this always left a bad taste in my mouth as far as modern medicine went. I'd get put on anti-depressants and fight tooth and nail to "heal myself." I'd get put on BC (not because of THAT. Because of girlish hormone issues. Get your mind out of the gutter.) and slowly ween myself off them to avoid yet ANOTHER influx of hormones into my body (seriously America?? What is with this hormone obsession?? *twitches*).

Suffice to say, when I got sick last week, like really really REALLY sick, the last place I wanted to go was a hospital.

But then, you know, I couldn't breathe, and after some prodding from The Mother and The Boyfriend, I ended up in the ER. And this one experience shed a much needed beacon of light on modern medicinal stuffs.

See, turned out I had (have) mono. No cure for it, but what the doc's did for me left me feeling like a whole new woman. Two prescriptions, a dose of Motrin, a shot that if it were human I would marry and have its babies later, I went home able to BREATHE and stuff. And now, almost a week later, I am back at work and kickin' like I never had tonsils the size of golf balls at all.

Mondays posts are supposed to be about things that I LOVE LOVE AND ADORE. I'm not now suddenly an advocate of modern medicinal thingies (I still firmly believe that if you can heal on your own, you should), but something I do LOVE LOVE AND ADORE are second chances. If I had held to my previous bad experiences with doctors and hospitals, I might still be lying in bed gasping for air and cringing every time I swallow. But because I was able to let go of my own biases (and perhaps embrace a bit of my oxygen-deprived delirium), I got much better much quicker than I would have on my own.

So here's to second chances and being open to changing your biases -- because sometimes that thing you hate might not be so completely life-destroying as you thought. Or maybe it is and a second chance will affirm that. But probably not.

That didn't end as inspirational as I wanted it to.

I PROMISED I'D POST MORE BLOGS

2011-04-14T11:31:00.005-04:00

So this is me. Posting MORE BLOGS.

Knowing me and all my, well, Sara-ness, it will be metaphysically impossible (and even a bit theologically impossible, maybe even *gasp* anatomically impossible) (no I'm not just throwing fancy words around) for me to post MORE BLOGS without a set schedule and certain expectations for set schedule. Because I'm like that. This being the case, I must come up with certain topics that can be talked about on a weekly basis without becoming as overdone as love triangles.

(DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON LOVE TRIANGLES.)

So, my schedule o' Topics.

Mondays: M is for Marketing -- In which I selfishly promote some book that I am either SUPER SUPER excited about or LOVED LOVED AND ADORED. Or both.

Wednesdays: What am I Writing? The Wedneday Word -- In which I keep myself motivated to actually, you know, write by holding myself accountable to all ya'll with tales of writing wonder or woe. And the overuse of the letter "w."

As I go on, I may add days to the schedule if I come across topics I just must talk about. But until then, this is what you may expect. Be excited.

OHMYGAWSH time.

2011-04-05T23:02:00.003-04:00

*whew*

So, turns out moving across the country is hard work. There's all these things you don't account for (like freak snowstorms in Missouri) and all these things you do account for but don't really REALLY account for (like just how LONG LONG OHMYGAWD LONG Kansas is) (seriously Kansas people, HOW DO YOU STAND LIVING THERE?) (No, I'm not still bitter). But overall, it's one of those soul-enlightening experiences that sticks with you.

For better or worse (definitely better now), for richer or poorer (mostly poorer), in sickness and in health (mostly sick -- stupid *cough* dry *cough* climate *cough*), til death do us part (or, you know, until I move somewhere else), I hereby pronounce Utah my new home.

*raises a glass or kisses the bride or whatever should be done in this situation*

Know how I knew I'd made the right decision? I came up with the next scene in SLIP NOT, my YA paranormal ghost story. Yup. I haven't had a scene pop into my head in, well, calculate how long it's been since I finished STREAM PIRATE. I'm telling ya, there's magic in the air here. Magic writing air. *breathes in deep*

So even though Kansas is a soul-killing drive that sums up America in its billboards (porn shops, shoe stores, antique malls, and "foot-high pie" diners), and even though Missouri tried to kill Natalie and I, and even though we may have spat curses upon every driver from Grand Junction to Salt Lake (those last hours are a bit of a blur), the drive was worth it, the transition was worth it, and the overall craziness of the last month was worth it. Because I'm happy, yo.

And I haven't been able to say that for a long, long time.

Check It

2011-03-11T14:27:00.003-05:00

My sister rocks.

Okay, not my ACTUAL sister. Though she rocks too, quite a bit. I mean my AGENCY sister, so not a "real blood and DNA" type sister, but a sister by contract. So like a sister-in-law? Maybe? Anyway.

Stephanie Perkins, the super adorable blue-streaked wonder of an author who also happens to be repped by Kate Testerman (where the sister-part comes from), has just released the cover and info for her next book, Lola and the Boy Next Door. You should go look at it. And stroke your computer in awe and wonder and envy.

Put a towel down if you drool though. Drooling is bad for computers.

This Post Brought to You by Positivity

2011-03-10T18:05:00.004-05:00

This really has nothing to do with my post, but I googled "funny success posters" and found this after perusing the results for about 30 minutes. I chuckled.

I made the decision to move to Utah back in January, in the heat of yet another what-am-I-doing-with-my-life, I'm-21-and-WASHED-UP-WASHED-UP-WAAAAAASSSHHHHEEDDDD-UPPPPP panic attack. It was a decision I made for me, totally selfishly, not because of a job or how it would benefit my family or anyone but me.

And it's kind of turning into the best decision ever. And I'm not even there yet.

Last summer, when I was in the throws of my Retail Job from Hell, I quit. Couldn't take it anymore and told my employer to kindly bleep off (okay, not really, considering my manager was one of my BFFs and my actual employer was a million-dollar corporation who probably doesn't take kindly to bleeps). I had no other job lined up and quit for purely selfish reasons. One month later, I landed a WRITING job.

Um, so, yeah. Turns out there might be something to living for your own happiness. Not saying you should go on massive selfish-sprees, but making the occasional life-changing decision based on no one else but YOU has its upsides.

Due to said positivity, I hereby cross my heart and promise to be more active in the publishing world once I get to Utah. Throw ninja stars at me if I don't.

Watch This.

2011-02-18T20:46:00.000-05:00

You're welcome.

"Mailbox! Open mailbox."

We Interrupt This Regulary Scheduled Hiatus...

2011-02-16T16:34:00.004-05:00

Shh. I ran away from the blogosphere. I'm not really here. I am a figament (figment? figiment? Figaro? Fee-ga-roh Fee-ga-roh Feeeeee-ga-roh...what was I saying? Oh yeah) of your imagination.

*trips over empty Chinese food containers and falls and makes a big, unavoidable noise because that's what empty Chinese food containers do*

Crap.

So. Uh. How are you? Good. Oh, good. Glad to hear it. I've been...busy. So busy. You don't believe me. I'm hurt! How can you distrust me? I am so innocent and believable, like a kitten. You don't distrust kittens. See, I've been busy doing stuff like this:

And stuff like this:

...and I realize I probably just lost a bunch of you with that last pic. Computer burn out is understandable. But lots of men on a car? With packages? In a desert? What?

I may have forgotten to mention this:

I'm moving to Utah.

Without the men on a car, because I don't want to take any of my Ohio men with me. They can stay nicely in the Corn Belt, thank you. Though I will take a lot of packages, which is part of the reason I've been AWOL. Packing is ANNOYING. And HARD. And when I googled "moving" I got lots of pictures of smiling men and women holding boxes and those pictures are VICIOUS VICIOUS LIES. Moving is much more like this picture, only I'm the car.

So yeah. On top of work, I am now apartment hunting, packing, and apartment hunting. And buying Space Bags because they are God's gift to the moving world. Seriously, they'll change your life. But I am still alive, and still blogging (just not on my blog). I will probably most likely sort of have more time to blog when I get to Utah. Maybe. And yes I realize I have not yet answered the questions posed when I asked for questions a few many days ago. Fail, fail, much failing on my part. I'm okay with that.

But let's not overlook the important thing: I'm LEAVING OHIO. Can I get a woot woot??

TOADS

2011-02-03T09:56:00.002-05:00

My friend Samantha is amazing.

Not only is she now among the realm of the agented authors, and living in France, and married to a guy straight out of a romance novel, she's also a romance guru who started this blog:

"Some Boys Are Toads: Tales from the Dark Side of the Dating Pond."

And guess who is a contributor? Yep. ME. I know, right? Not like you ever would've guessed that I would have dating horror stories.

*watches all my ex's shudder with terror*

Be afraid. Be VERY afraid. But while you're being afraid, go check out the blog, because it's pure awesomeness for all ages. Dating blunders are the universal heartache that afflicts all women. At least on that blog, we can try to find a cure!

Hope.

2011-01-25T12:31:00.004-05:00

So some of you know that I work for a Russian travel agency. It is seriously my dream job -- I get to sit at home in my pj's and write stuff all. day. long. And I get paid REAL MONEY to do this, which is, you know, a nice perk to any job.

Monday morning, I woke up to my mom flipping through Yahoo's news. She called me to the computer to show me this article. And my heart dropped.

I did a post about it on the company blog. My job over the past six months has required me to research the crap out of Russia. I am well on my way to being a certified Russia expert (if they handed out certifications for such things) and even attempted to learn the language awhile back (further proving my destiny to be unilingual). I could tell you way too many details about Moscow, St. Petersburg, Uglich, Yaroslavl, Goritsy, Kizhi Island, Siberia, and the upcoming Sochi Olympics in 2014. I have spent a lot of time flipping through Google pictures of St Basil's and the Hermitage.

All this research has made me realize just how little most of us know about Russia. It's always been "that really big European-ish country that used to be communist, right?" and most people have no clue what charoite is. This is due in part to the craziness of an oppressive government a few years back, but thanks to a lot of non-crazy people, Russia is much more open now, which is why I have a job at all.

But now this attack. Attacks like this change a lot. Or tend to. After 9/11, people got very hesitant to visit NYC, as though the entire city became a ticking time bomb of destruction. Every terrorist attack turns the victim country into a giant, flashing warning light that scares everyone away. This, though, is what I am trying to encourage people not to do.

This country is incredible. Ever since I saw the cartoon movie Anastasia as a kid, I have had a special place in my heart for it. And it is awful to think people might miss out on getting to know Russia because of gutless fear-inducers.

I know most people who read my blog aren't world travelers, so my sum-up message isn't the same as it was on the post I did for the company blog. To you, I say simply: don't let events like this control you. So many people get corralled through life by fear and miss out on so much wonder. It's not worth it. Listening to fear isn't worth it.

PAR-TAY!

2011-01-19T17:24:00.002-05:00

Go over here.

SAMANTHA IS NOW AMONG THE REALM OF AGENTED AUTHORS.

*dances*

Editors will be fighting over her gorgeous romantic memoir. Seriously, it'll be on shelves in NO TIME.

CONGRATS, Sam!! Three cheers for an awesome start to 2011!

Ask Jeeves

2011-01-12T12:08:00.002-05:00

Anyone else remember that website? Back before Google ruled the world, there was that little butler guy who would so politely find answers to your burning questions. I kind of miss him.

(Sidenote: I used Google to look for pictures of Ask Jeeves. IRONY.)

Anyway, not talking about Jeeves today. Today I thought I'd open the floor to a Q&A round because, ya know, I like to talk about myself. And let's face it, I am so massively dripping with AWESOME that you like to listen. So throw me your most tantalizing, ridiculous, outrageous, unanswerable questions, and I will answer them. Or throw me some serious writing-or-life related questions, and I'll answer those too.

To kick things off, I'll do a trick I do with Puppy to get her excited about playing fetch. Because, believe it or not, regular fetch isn't exciting enough. My dog is a *teeny* bit spoiled.

Okay, here goes:

on your mark...

*waves toy*

get set...

*pauses toy overhead at which point Puppy freezes in a very dog-like fashion*

GO!

*throws toy and watches as Puppy and Bloggites tear after it*

The Psychic Told Me To*

2011-01-09T14:50:00.002-05:00

*the lesser-said sister phrase to "The Devil Made Me Do It."

I went to a psychic on Thursday

OW! Who threw the holy water?? Don't you know how DANGEROUS that stuff is?

*pause*

Oh. It doesn't burn you? Um. Well then...this is awkward.

Aside from telling me I stuff I already knew (THE MOMENT I sat down, the psychic's first words to me were "Honey, you have trust issues." To which I replied "ME?? A clearly desperate, directionless 21-yr-old has TRUST ISSUES?? Shut UP!" I don't think she appreciated my commentary.) (Now that I think about it, that might explain why my reading was so full of "Leave! Leave! FLEE!" type things. Hm.), the psychic was...interesting. My expectations were way too high to begin with -- suffice to say my friends and I have been planning to do this since last fall, when we got our fortunes read at a RenFest and were absolutely certain our lives would CHANGE FOREVER. And me, being on the cusp of a new life, was desperate for someone to tell me "This is what you should do. Step 1, 2, and 3, and you'll be happy. Promise."

So I sat down in the psychic's relaxing little haven of purple sparkly fabric and bubbling rock-water fountains, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed...

Until she started, you know, talking.

Then all I could think was "Um...I'm going to do what in the next two years? With -- who? And I'm going to have money? Oh, okay, I like that. But I'm going to do what in three years? WHAT??"

Yeah, just lots of...WHAT??

And while my friends were very happy with their readings and raced home to set their Universe-instructed plans into motion, I just...didn't. According to the psychic, "the Universe" has set forth this plan for me: I will be a nomad-type-person for the next two years, moving all the time and never having a "constant person" in my life (she actually told me that lots -- yes, LOTS -- of men will come into my life, but I should let them pass over me like water. Not sure what to think about that.), and after those two years I will "nest" somewhere and go to grad school and meet someone and get married.

Firstly, I am not a nomad. I have way too many seasonal allergies to live outside in an animal-hide hut (psychic humor).

Secondly, GRAD SCHOOL?? Are you JOKING, Universe? Do you not remember how much I LOATHED LOATHED LOATHED AND DESPISED the sheer uselessness that was my UNDERGRAD DEGREE?? And how I now have a $15,000 loan that I took out to fund the first YEAR and a HALF of said adventure?? And you think I'm going to go to GRAD SCHOOL??

Thirdly, this all felt very, very familiar. My friends were gabbing excitedly about their adventures while I couldn't help but flash back to a time when I was in a similar situation. Listening to people tell me what a Higher Power had planned for me. And then hating myself, my very being, when I couldn't live up to/fulfill said Higher Power's divine plan.

Before we got to the psychic, my friends and I were all so lost, so terrified of our many opportunities and the vast expanse of possibility. What were we going to DO with it all?? What could WE, mere mortals, expect to form with all this potential??

Nothing. We couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything. What if I made the wrong decision? What if it all collapsed around me and I had no one to blame but myself? That's the biggest reason, isn't it. If some Higher Power tells us what to do, at least we have them to say "They told me to! I didn't want to!"

But do you notice how often things that "Higher Powers" tell us to do work out? Because we commit to them with our whole being. We throw every part of ourselves into them because they're "destined" and "divine." We blindly trust and believe and KNOW that they will work out.

But when we make decisions on our own, no Higher Power instructing us, well, we're just human. And humans screw up. ie: this will get screwed up too.

The psychic was right. I do have trust issues. But they extend far beyond the usual "boys suck" issues. I don't trust myself to make my own life decisions. I need some Higher Power to sit back and say "You're going to do XYZ," even if I don't WANT to do XYZ (small sidenote: I realize sometimes people SHOULD be forced to do what they don't want to do. There's a distinction to be made between the two types of "don't want to"). I let the Christian majority tell me God wanted me to be a missionary/witness/leader even though I HATED doing all of those up-front things. For years I threw myself into those things because it was SUPPOSED TO WORK OUT. God said so.

Even though I've spent my entire life asking various divinities what they want for me, I've been too afraid to ask one simple question: What do I want? Like that question might strike me dead. How DARE I have a plan. How dare a little mere mortal WANT anything. How silly.

But what do I want? I want to find a home somewhere. I want to get married. I want to NEST, goddammit, not be a nomad. I'm not nearly artsy enough to be nomadic -- nomads are those freespirits who wander around with a backpack full of granola oat bars. And I'm ALLERGIC to oats.

So even though the psychic was a ridiculously nice old lady, I have to politely tell the Universe to go bleep itself. Because, honestly, I'm tired of trying to live up to something else's expectations of me. I'm going to try this weird new thing called doing what I want to do. Whatever the hell that is.

New You

2011-01-04T02:14:00.002-05:00

I made a decision, remember? 2011 is going to be a GOOD year. I'm not giving it any other choice. It will be good and amazing and shiny and everything 2010 and 2008 weren't. It will be mine.

Ever since I graduated in November, I've been paralyzed. Suddenly I didn't have a buffer anymore -- this was IT. The beginning of my beginning. No more school, no more waiting -- it was time to do that big, scary thing everyone's always talking about and start a LIFE somewhere. But ever since college destroyed all of my childhood hopes and dreams (thanks a lot, American Education System), I've avoided making any cut-and-dry decisions about my future for fear of -- everything. I always assumed that once I graduated everything would magically fall into place, just like I assumed that once I got into college everything would magically fall into place.

I'm starting to see a pattern in my life. Apparently you can't WAIT for things to happen. Who knew, right? This shouldn't be news to me. I blame, once again, my dangerous dependence on religion growing up. Someday I will make a psychoanalyst VERY happy.

So the past month I spent flipflopping between being crazy spontaneous in one of two ways or staying put until I figured stuff out. Staying put has become increasingly less of an option -- I've said since high school that this city kills your soul. Why I expected it to change when I moved home for college, I don't know. But it does kill your soul until you reach a point where you think it'd be okay to live in some scummy apartment next to a bunch of wailing babies and creepy old men while your greatest joy is going to Buffalo Wild Wings every Friday night. Throw in your own baby or two, and you've got the makings of every. single. person. in this city who stayed here after graduation. Throw in a lot of backstabbing, sabotaging, and high-school like drama, and you've REALLY got the makings of every single person who stayed.

For a moment...I wanted that? I heard myself admit to that being an okay option for me tonight, and it made me go -- damn. What happened to me?

Fear. Fear happened to me. Completely and utterly paralyzed me in limbo, the land of the Gray Area, the place I promised myself I'd never, ever be. I was okay with it. I accepted being, for a moment, NOTHING, being undefined and hovering and waiting for SOMEONE ELSE to define me.

This girl wouldn't have been okay with that. This girl took a leap of faith and landed an amazing job. This girl just sounded awesomely optimistic.

But staying in this place of Gray Area Limbo has turned me into someone who accepts the prospect of a dead-end city and social life as enough. Someone who is content with an "exciting weekend" of hanging at questionable bars while a bunch of 40 yr olds drink so much their lives don't seem sad.

I'm not who I want to be. And I can't pretend staying here will make me who I want to be. I want to be the girl I linked to up above. I want to be PASSIONATE and OPTIMISTIC and FIERY. I want to be a WRITER again.

So I decided today. I made a decision. Today. To be that person, and to find a place that will help me foster ME back into that person. And it'll be scary and it'll be hard and I might hate it -- but I hate me here. And saving me is worth the risk, I guess.

Onward.

2010-12-31T18:27:00.002-05:00

I haven't had much luck with even-numbered years.

2008 was...let's just say it was a lot of words I'd rather not say here to protect the integrity of my blog. (I know, I know -- integrity? My blog? Psh. But I like to pretend I'm a respectable blogger.)

2010 was...not nearly as horrific (no one died. Whew.) but was in its own way a lot of words I'd rather not say here.

In contrast, 2007 was decent. I graduated high school. Started college. Met a lot of amazing friends I still keep in contact with. Got my first "serious" boyfriend. Was all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and full of hope for my future and all that jazz that college beats out of you.

2009 was pretty darn good. It was my first ISPAW. I got interviewed by a FABULOUS young writer. I got the world's most superest super agent. Other AMAZING friends of mine got AMAZING deals with AMAZING agents/editors. All in all, 2009 was thoroughly anti-suck.

(Wow, I forgot how good 2009 was. I've been infused with a burst of hope allofasudden.)

So call me superstitious. Call me crazy. Call me a blasphemer and douse me in holy water. But I believe good things are in store in 2011. Not just for me, but for everyone.

I'm not going to make any resolutions. I'm not going to create a list of goals to be done by 2012. All I'm going to do is sit back and let 2011 bring me the best it has to offer in hope that it breaks the suck of 2010 with an infinite amount of awesome. And as I sit here typing this blog while Ghost Adventures jammers in the background (spikes! EMF readings! Oh my!), I can't help but feel a bit of hope. Because no matter how ridiculous New Year's makes people with their sudden promises for things they will never follow through or their determination to accomplish XYZ in the next 12 months, it's nice to have a definitive marker every so often to remind us that fresh starts are possible. We can start over, and move on, and close the chapter on our pasts while opening a fresh, shiny new page.

Happy New Year, blogites.

End of an Era

2010-12-25T22:58:00.006-05:00

Because Showtime is one of those silly, teasing stations that keeps its goods high above us lowly television subscribers, I have been without the final season of The Tudors for almost six months.

You remember my Tudor obsession, right? And how way back when I had Showtime and all was right with the world, I'd indulge you all with round-ups every Tuesday?

(Good god, that was a year and a half ago. *suddenly feels very old*)

Well, thanks to the miracle of Christmas, I am now the proud owner of the season 4 DVD, which I just finished watching about ten minutes ago. And while I shan't spoil it for all ya'll sad folks who have not yet discovered the television bliss that is The Tudors, I will say a few things.

Firstly, it took Henry four seasons and six wives to realize "Hey, maybe I shouldn't trust every man in my court." Good job, dude. I bet Anne Boleyn wishes you'd figured that out a bit sooner, but still.

Secondly, SO thrilled with their shout-out to Anne Boleyn. I have an unhealthy obsession with her, and if I could so choose, I would so choose to be her reincarnated. Kick-ass, snarky females FTW.

Thirdly, the final episode of the final season was very -- appropriate. Very everything-has-ended-and-we-will-all-move-on-now. Closure, I think most people call it. And as I was watching it, I couldn't help but think how life is so, so not like that (this is where I get deep. Be warned). Movies and television like to give us this false sense of security in convincing us that when something in our life comes to an end, everything leading up to that moment and everything proceeding it will pass through our mind in a content, I'm-ready-to-move-on montage. Usually set to a really pretty orchestral arrangement.

(Oh, I'm the only one who thought that's how life was? I'm going to continue my deep thought anyway.)

It definitely helps to reflect from time to time. Analyze why you've lived the way you've lived. But life does not pass by as neatly as a television series, and all the loose ends don't get tied up as perfectly as they do in novels and movies. Unlike Henry VIII we don't get to confront all of our past demons in depressing dream sequences or say goodbye to everyone we love in a tidy little ceremony. We have to forge our own endings, decide how our own loose ends get tied up, and create our own closure. Not always, of course, but standing around waiting for our orchestal arrangement to sweep us into an ending is -- cowardly. And that makes for a really boring story.

So here's to The Tudors and to the brave, brave people who undertook one of history's most involved, complicated, and insane stories. Showtime, you rock.

Bring Back the Tail!!

2010-12-15T13:22:00.002-05:00

Jump on over to Sam's blog for a contest of MASSIVE PROPORTIONS. Seriously, she's giving away so much stuff I can't even list it all here. Suffice to say, one of the prizes is a critique. By ME. Yeah, you know want that.

What are you still doing here?? Go, go, GO!

PIRATES.

2010-12-14T20:27:00.002-05:00

PIRATES. MERMAIDS. and ZOMBIES.

Um, can someone say "The Perfect Movie"?

*hopes really hard that the popularity from this movie will encourage publishers to buy pirate/mermaid books*

Reminisce

2010-12-09T21:43:00.003-05:00

I've been stressed lately.

What, couldn't tell? I guess I do a good job of hiding it between bouts of rocking back and forth and mumbling incoherent phrases at the wall.

(I've named the wall now, actually. Larry Siegfried. Sometimes he responds to my muttering. Usually with this strange twisted whine that sounds an awful lot like the whine my dog makes when she doesn't get enough attention...oh. Oops.)

Anyway, today I did something I haven't done in a long, long many moons.

I wrote stuff.

And not just the oh-I-had-an-hour-free-so-I'll-hastily-scribble-in-some-edits writing. This was honest-to-goodness writing. An entire day of 150+ pages of unhindered writing insanity. Which subsequently resulted in the completion of "The Massively Insane STREAM PIRATE Revisions of 2010 (working title)".

Yes, I COMPLETED something. This year has been nothing but beginnings for me -- I began a few novels (and reworked the beginnings of a few novels...my character Max can personally attest to this, as he/she has been stuck in he/she land, seeing as I can't quite decide to make him/her a boy or a girl now...) and didn't really intend to finish anything. Finishing stuff was on the backburner, right next to "figure out what to do with life." I had more pressing matters to deal with. You know, like buying a new laptop. And finishing school. And attempting to learn karate.

All in all, I would've been happy if I came out of this year with little to no esophagus damage. (Because stress causes heartburn...sorry, not sure my witty analogies are carrying tonight. Going to explain them all.) So when I started "The Massively Insane STREAM PIRATE Revisions of 2010 (working title)", I tacked on the (working title) because I expected to change it to "The Massively Insane STREAM PIRATE Revisions of 2010-2011". I expected it to take a backburner to the backburner, and be the project I got to when I absolutely had nothing else to do. And most days I was content to not even open the Word doc. Pirates? What pirates?

But spending today completely immersed in my pirate fantasy world made me happy. The kind of unnameable happy that just sits there, grinning like an idiot for no reason. Because even though my life is a giant whirling vortex of WHAT DO I DO NOW OMG, my pirates are still there. And they still rock, even harder now that they survived the Massively Insane Revision.

So as the holidays continue to get crazier and 2010 winds to an end, make sure you create time to get lost in your stories. It grounds you in a way nothing else can.

rubs eyes

2010-12-07T18:03:00.005-05:00

Wha...wha...what is this thing?

Oh yeah. My blog.

Hey. So, it's been awhile. How are ya? I'm good. Gooooood. Well, okay, not THAT good. More like just "gooood". Yeah, that's about right.

Apparently graduating from college does not leave one with oodles more freetime, as displayed by my lack of postage. No one ever told me that constantly worrying about your future ambitions, hopes, and dreams and not having a CLUE as to what to do next can take up a LOT of time/energy. Who knew, right? I know I'm floored. And while I'm on the floor, I think I'll take a nap.

*twenty minutes later*

A bit better.

Anyhoo, apparently stuff has been HAPPENING in the blogosphere whilst I've been rocking gently in a corner by myself and muttering incoherent blabberings at the wall. I'm tired, so instead of linking things, I'm just going to write super excitedly. You can find links to everything in my sidebar thingamajig over yonder. Dontcha love my post-college vocabulary?

Firstly, a certain agency sister had a certain flipping awesome book come out.

Yay, Stephanie! Yay, Anna!

Go buy it. Now. I'll wait.

*waits*

For those of you who already bought it, more news:

Renee Collins over at Midnight Scribe is now repped by FOLIO. Let that sink in. Huge, huge, HUGE congrats to her -- she's nice and pretty and talented and one of those all around awesome, calm-cool-collected types that make the rest of us look madly inferior. When I met her a few months ago (ha, look at me. Talking like I'm all important and stuff.), it was in Carrabba's (mmm) and she had an a-freakin'-dorable newborn with her during the entire meal. And while I would've been on mega panic-mode with a baby (mainly because, you know, I would've been going "How the heck did I get a newborn??"), she was totally cool and whitty to boot. So congrats, Renee -- take the publishing world by storm!

Hmm who else who else....

Oh, so the Roecker sisters have this book coming out. Not like it's going to be FREAKING AMAZING or anything. And they finally got a COVER for it. But not only that, you can vote on which cover you want to see sitting in the bookstore. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, guys.

I'm missing something. Not surprising.

So as not to overload on postage after such a long hiatus, I shall leave it at that while I go stare at my unfinished revisions of STREAM PIRATE before surrendering to the inevitable exhaustion and ending up on WoW for the rest of the night. Yes, I got a WoW account. I'm undecided as of now. Let me get back to you once I figure out how to stop DYING. That glowing orb-angel thing is my new BFF.

What I Learned in College: A List

2010-11-15T14:15:00.002-05:00

1) Procrastination is HIGHLY underrated. As in, very few people truly appreciate how little you have to do to pass things. I spent the first year and a half of my college existence busting my behind to get every homework assignment, test, quiz, reading assignment, and random question in class completely RIGHT. Little did I know, only about 10% of the those things actually matter.

2) Reading assignments are never, ever a part of that 10%. Ever.

3) Unless you learn by hearing (which I don't -- I learn through experiencing and/or teaching myself), lectures are pointless.

4) Don't be fooled by the cleverly placed "20% of your grade will be based on attendance." It is code for "Bring your laptop to class so you can get other work done during the hour and a half I waste babbling to you about stuff I also give to you on PowerPoint slides and detailed handouts."

5) New editions of textbooks are lies. Vicious, vicious lies. Save yourself about $500 a semester by buying last year's editions of textbooks. Same content, slightly less-shiny cover. Yeah, it is TOTALLY worth the $250 price tag to buy a book with a holographic cover when I could spend $50 on a not-quite-as-impressive version. LIES.

6) I will probably get pelted by angry blog trolls for saying this (*puts on helmet*), but unless you have a career goal that requires specialized knowledge and/or skills (medical doctor, teacher, engineer, scientist), college really...isn't...necessary. The job I have now I got because of my writing credentials. And if you look at most job descriptions, they ask for "3-5 years of experience." Translation: "We magically want you to accumulate 4 years of full-time experience while taking 20 credit hours a semester, but since all you have is a degree, well, we'll consider you, but this guy over here who doesn't have a degree but has 4 years of high-stress managerial experience got hired before he even said his name." In other words: experience trumps degree. Sorry, college-lovers.

7) For freshmen: every single freshman on campus is just as scared as you. Promise. Even that really big drunk guy.

8) Another reason procrastinating is so, so vital to college: in all my time at all my various colleges, I don't remember any specific studying time that sticks out to me as the BEST DAY EVER OMG. I do, however, have plenty of friend-hanging-out-times that stick out to me as some of the BEST DAYS EVER OMG. I wish I'd realized the value of procrastination and made more fun memories.

9) Lots of people will try to freak you out about a lot of things. Facebook privacy OMG. Drinking OMG. Not letting anyone use your swipey card to get into buildings OMG. Just don't do anything stupid (ie: common sense FTW) and you'll be fine.

10) Professors don't know everything. No matter how much they SWEAR they do.

11) The professors who think they know everything are REALLY fun to piss off. Trust me.

12) Taco Bell is only delicious past 3AM.

13) Don't take it too seriously. Remember: it's only one paper, or one test, or one quiz. The end of the world it is not. And no matter what happens, you will graduate with the same degree as everyone else. They don't put a gold sticker on your diploma for getting an A on every single quiz.

Thus begins my last finals' week EVER.

*raises glass of champagne* Cheers, all.

ISPAW -- The Final Party Extravaganza

2010-11-07T14:36:00.002-05:00

Well, "extravaganza" isn't really the right word. I've decided to make this party more like a small gathering of close friends and family. Something simple yet elegant; sophisticated yet understated; suave yet glam. I don't even know if that last one is possible.

Anyway.

Today is the final ISPAW celebration. Seeing as yesterday was STREAM PIRATE's "actual" birthday (hey, moms have birthday parties for their kids on the wrong days ALL THE TIME.), I have in store for you some simple delicacies to whet any lingering pirate desires.

Lu: That sounded dirty.

Please, Lu. There are guests present.

Lu: They were thinking it. I just said it.

Since I revealed to all ya'll the official stream pirate flag a few days ago, I figured the only way to top such a revelation of visual excellence would be to offer up a newly revised product of my Massively Insane STREAM PIRATE Revisions of 2010 (working title). It does, I must say, kick butt.

Arachne: It'd kick more butt if I was in it. But no. You just HAVE to show a scene without me.

Yazoo: Go make me a net, Arachne.

Arachne: I'll make you something...

Lu: Was that supposed to be a threat? Are you THREATENING my MAN? Oh, it is SO on.

Arachne: On like the River Long.

Lu: Cleverness will not save you!

Arachne: But running will.

*Arachne dives out a side window*

Lu: You were saying, Sara?

You're not going after her?

Lu: Why?

Good point. Now. The excerpt! This introduces you to a character previously unmentioned -- the incomparable Lord Milo Vesic, court playboy and all-around bad boy of Radial Stream. It's an excerpt from chapter one, so you shouldn't be too lost.

Alluvium and I lingered by the staircase until Dad had led our guests out of the reception hall. Once they had been fully swallowed by the violins, my brother groaned.

“Sweet sediment, did that boy eat the suitor who was supposed to come?”

I smiled. “He isn’t that large.”

Alluvium puckered his lips as if in deep thought. “They’re getting fatter. You should stop seeing them. Now. Before one sinks a steamboat.”

“That’d be a lovely story for the grandbabies,” I said. “Grandpap and I were married on a warm fall day shortly after he recovered from his tragic steamboat-destruction incident–”

A shadow slid down the staircase, a mesh of black from head to toe with no regard or desire to be anything but dark. I flicked my attention away from Alluvium and fought a shiver. The shadow, seeing my attention on him, shot upright, smiling like my presence was the most refreshing thing in the world. Believing that smile had been the downfall of many.

“Princess,” Lord Milo Vesic purred, coming the rest of the way down the staircase.

Alluvium spun on him, voice squeaking like he’d been caught in some naughty act. “Lord Vesic.”

My eyebrows shot up, but neither of them seemed to think Alluvium’s embarrassed reaction to Milo was weird. Milo took my hand and pressed a kiss into it, lingering a bit too long. I jerked away.

“Lord Vesic.” I nodded. “I was under the impression you wouldn’t be attending this year’s ball.”

Milo straightened and swept the hair off his copper forehead, adding the wink and genteel smile that had seduced at least thirty known courtier women and two known courtier men. “And miss seeing you? I couldn’t resist.”

I tightened my lips into a scowl. “Flattering. Save it for someone with bigger endowments.”

Milo’s face flashed with amusement. At least he fought dropping his eyes to my chest. “Noted, milady. I heard the ball has begun?”

Thanks for celebrating ISPAW again this year! On behalf of my unruly cast of characters, I salute you. *salutes*

ISPAW Days 3 & 4

2010-11-05T11:01:00.002-04:00

Lu has something to show all of you. She's VERY excited by it, mainly because she knows just how much it will piss off Arachne.

Lu: Show it! Show it!

Why do you like pissing off Arachne so much?

Lu: Don't even pretend you don't. I have a list of scenes that would be much, much less funny if Arachne wasn't pissed off.

Touche. Onward!

Lu found this video on YouTube. Behold:

Lu: *giggles*

Arachne: That is NO LAUGHING MATTER, Alluvial. I'd expect you of all people to know just how unfunny that is.

Lu: *snorts*

Arachne: It's dangerous! The threat is real! Aside from the CTD, the only thing more dangerous is--

*window creaks*

Arachne: What was that?

Lu: If the voices in your head start telling you to hurt people--

Arachne: Dam it up, Lulu. I will stab you with my weaving needles!

Lu: Bring it, weaver-girl!

*Arachne lunges at Lu*

*window creaks again*

*Arachne stops*

Arachne: Seriously...I don't feel right...

Ninja: At last. We meet.

Arachne: HOLY EROSION! Run, Lu! Run!

Lu: But...he's short. And he's wearing a-- bathrobe?

Ninja: It's a gi. Get it right.

Lu: Looks like a bathrobe to me. And slippers?

Ninja: I will kill you slowly.

Lu: Don't overexert yourself. Hate for you to rip your nighties.

Arachne: You're not making this any better, Lu. Ninjas and pirates have been enemies since--

Lu: Since the pirates interrupted the ninjas' beauty sleep?

Ninja: Ninjas don't get beauty sleep.

Lu: Obviously.

Arachne: Lu!

Lu: You gonna fight him or what?

Arachne: It'd be my pleasure. I have looked forward to the day when I could cross blades with a ninja.

Ninja: Blades? Um. I only brought throwing stars.

Arachne: What?

Ninja: Hard to sneak in through window with a sword. Um. Give me ten minutes.

*Ninja runs out the door*

Arachne: ...

Lu: One more time!

Arachne: I'll let him kill you.

Lu: He's probably taking a nap.

BLAST -- Days 1 & 2

2010-11-04T09:20:00.003-04:00

I am a HORRIBLE book-mom.

I mean, really -- what kind of book-mom forgets her own book's BIRTHDAY? In my defense, I forgot it was November. I've been BUSY. I graduate in TWO WEEKS. Get OFF ME.

But I still have 2 days to redeem myself. 2 days. Gotta make them ROCK. Why, you may ask?

Because I have to fit an entire ISPAW into those 2 days.

That's right, folks -- it's that time of year again. The time when tiny children's heads fill with sparkling dreams of river-rerouting. The time when parents max out their credit cards on steamboats, dynamite, and nets. The time when the CTD cries themselves to sleep on nightmares of global stream pirate takeover. That's right -- International Stream Pirate Appreciation Week.

Thus, I will be squishing Days 1 & 2 into today's post, Days 3 & 4 into tomorrow's post, and the grand finale on STREAM PIRATE's actual birthday, November 6th.

(I've lost most of you. Wait! Come back! I made brownies! *wafts brownie smell toward readers*

Now here -- eat a brownie and read this post. Seriously. I'll wait.

*waits*

*eats brownie*

*waits more*

Did you read it? Are you all caught up? Awesome. Let the festivities BEGIN!)

Day 1: What is Stream Piracy?

I'm glad you asked.

Seeing as last year I introduced my characters (well, the ones who would cooperate. I'm looking at you, Peat), I figured it'd be a good start to this year's ISPAW to tell you what the heck I'm talking about when I say "stream piracy." Because while I'm sure my little pirate-antics are side-splittingly entertaining--

Lu: Snort.

--most of you probably just laugh out of the kindness of your hearts.

Lu: Hey, she's not as dumb as she looks.

Lu!

Lu: You wrote me this way. You have no one to blame for my snarky remarks but yourself.

...

Yazoo: Yeah, thanks for that.

You didn't have to fall in love with her, Yaz.

Yazoo: Have you seen her when she gets angry? Yeah, I kind of did.

Lu: Careful. I'll sick Arachne on you.

Arachne: I resent that. It's like I'm just a piece of violent meat to you guys.

Yazoo: Wait -- you're not a piece of meat?

Arachne: Lu, sick me on Yazoo.

Okay then. Back to what I was saying. Stream piracy--

Arachne: Is a really quick way to simultaneously see the world and drive a dynamite-sized wedge between you and "respected society."

Lu: Hey! I'm still respected society.

Arachne: Guess my wedge isn't big enough.

Lu: I know where you sleep.

Arachne: And I know what you mumble about Yazoo in your sleep. 'Oh Yazzie, my love, my--'

Lu: You were saying, Sara?

Right. Ahem. Stream piracy is a--

Yazoo: Wait -- why are you telling them? Are we sure they can be trusted?

Lu: Yaz! Don't be rude!

Yazoo: I'm not. I just think some of them look like CTD sailors. Especially that one in the back. With the uniform that says 'CTD.'

Lu: Oh, dam.

Wait! No! Come back! ISPAW only just started!

Arachne: Sorry, author -- we'll be back when the CTD isn't chasing us.

Yazoo: So...never.

Lu: Oh, the life we lead.

*door slams*

So. Um. Well, those are my main characters. Awesome, don't you think? Eh, you can stop being polite. They're gone now.

What was I saying? Oh, right. Stream piracy--

*CTD sailor runs through crowd*

Sailor: I saw them! Yazoo Oxbow was here, wasn't he?

What? Um...no.

Sailor: Do you have any idea of the consequences for harboring a known stream pirate? I should haul you off to jail this instant!

*picks up plate* Brownie?

Sailor: Oh. Why thank you; don't mind if I do.

*sneaks toward door*

And that concludes Days 1 & 2 of ISPAW. Tune in tomorrow for Days 3 & 4.

Sailor: Wait. That was only Day 1!

*slams door*

Sailor: You took the brownies! Halt! IN THE NAME OF THE KING!

Look!

2010-11-02T21:06:00.002-04:00

*points up*

Click on the "Stream Pirate" link.

That, my friends, is the official (as declared by me) Stream Pirate Flag. Thus, if you would like to be a stream pirate, simply fly this flag over your steamboat and do your best to avoid getting caught by the CTD. Be sure to plant a stick of dynamite or two to make it official.

Most of you have no idea what I'm talking about. But trust me. You want to be a stream pirate.

This needs to be exciting.

2010-10-31T15:39:00.002-04:00

So not only have I not posted in a week and a half, but this also my 300th BLOG POST.

*throws confetti*

(Am I the only one who gets confetti-thrower's remorse? I always throw it and go, "Aw, crap. Now I have to clean it up. Stupid tiny pieces of glittery paper.")

Exciting. Exciting. I need to talk about something EXCITING.

I'm at page 68 on "The Massively Insane STREAM PIRATE Revisions of 2010 (working title)." It pretty much kicks ass. Not gonna lie.

I'm one presentation, one paper, and three exams away from GRADUATING. I KNOW, right?

I have a new addiction. Starts with "Vampires" and ends with "Diaries." And aside from the fact that Elena and Stefan's relationship makes me gag a little, Damon is SO FREAKING SEXY they can do whatever googly-eyed lovey-dovey things they want as long as he's in the background. Shirtless. Staring at the camera all smoldery-eyed. Or working out. *fans self* Ahem. Not the kind of exciting topic I was looking for.

*thinks*

*types*

*erases*

*thinks more*

...

I really have nothing exciting to talk about. This is why I haven't posted in a week and a half. I'm BORING. And unless you want me to rant about something you've heard me rant about a dozen times before (Twilight, stupid people, boys. All three), I'm just gonna leave you with an air of mystery. Because after 300 blog posts, I'm out of stuff to blabber about, and the only thing that will keep you coming back for more is my mysterious aura of unpredictability.

*disappears in a fog*

drum roll

2010-10-20T19:14:00.004-04:00

You should really go over here. And massively party.

Congrats, Jill! SLIDE is a fantastic book that I had the uber-privilege of reading awhile back. Cannot WAIT to see Sylvia on shelves!!

Revision Revelations

2010-10-18T22:27:00.003-04:00

I have a management test tomorrow. But the way I figure it, I'm going to do "eh" on it no matter if I spend the rest of the night studying my butt off or writing a blog post. So I'm writing a blog post. Senioritis FTW

I'm three chapters into "The Massively Insane STREAM PIRATE Revisions of 2010 (working title)" and already have a revelation about revisions. It's been awhile since I did any massive revisions on anything. I finished WHITE LIKE ASHES this year, started my ghost story, but haven't spent much time revising, getting into the nitty-gritty issues of a story and really working on ways to make it shinier, brighter, and all around kick-buttier. Working on STREAM PIRATE has been both a joy and-- actually, it's been just a joy. No negative adjectives. Yet.

I really thought STREAM PIRATE was in good shape. I mean, it landed me a rock star agent; it had to be good enough, right? And though I did a lot of revisions after the agenting process and during subs, I never did any REAL revisions. You know, the kind that make you sit back and scratch your head and really analyze every part of your story with an unbiased eye. The kind of revisions that make you cut character traits that you were just absolutely adamant HAD TO STAY because OMG, that character is just NOTHING without THAT trait. You know. Those kind.

So I'm doing those revisions and I'm plowing through STREAM PIRATE and it made me start thinking about life. About how we (okay, can't speak for everyone -- I) get complacent. I get tired. Very tired. And I look at my life and think "It's gotten me this far. Can't be that bad, eh? I have to be doing something right." Even though I'm not where I want to be or who I want to be. It's easier to just pretend it really IS good enough and where I'm at ISN'T that bad. Because really looking at my life in an unbiased way and dissecting the toxic parts is hard, painful, emotionally draining work that I already DID, like, fifteen times before, and can't it just BE good enough already, I mean, really, you'd think SOMEONE would like it...

My wonderful and beautiful friend Natalie posted on this today too. That's actually what reminded me of this revelation. That sometimes, even when you think you've revised enough and you can't possibly change anything else and that nagging feeling in your head HAS to be wrong, you should still give it one more go. Because it's your life; you've come this far. Why stop at merely good enough?

And here's a video for you:

Visual Inspiration, Pirate Edition

2010-10-13T20:45:00.010-04:00

I'm doing a very silly thing.

It's midterm here at my university, which means it's all downhill to graduation in November. Which means I have homework coming out of places I didn't know I had, projects snowballing on top of me, and unnecessary meetings bombarding my every move. Perfect time to decide to revise STREAM PIRATE, right?

I'm crazy. Certifiably, metaphysically, ecumenically.

In honor of this craziness, here is a visual inspiration to visually inspire my new undertaking. I'm afraid this new undertaking means also that my blog posts will be even fewer and farther between. Alas, alack. But the pictures are pretty, right?

To-Do = To-DONE

2010-10-10T17:52:00.002-04:00

1) Finish 3 of 4 sociology papers. CHECK

2) Finish reading one more book for senior capstone project. CHECK

3) Freelance my little heart out. CHECK(ish. I still have most of my heart.)

4) Be a better CP. CHECK (Yes, Sam! I finally started! I swear!)

5) Have another weird dream about destroying the Nazis and ending WWII by plotting to launch a massive nuclear warhead to obliterate Atlanta. CHECK (Watching Inglorious Basterds messed. me. up. Sorry, Atlanta.)

6) Defeat the common cold with a never-ending barrage of Hall's Vitamin C Drops and apple juice. CHECK (Is it possible to get a Vitamin C addiction? Yes? No? *twitch*)

7) Pass BOTH of my absolutely-thought-I-failed-because-I-barely-studied-and-really-dislike-one-of-my-professors exams. CHECK

8) Hit the 10,000 word mark on my WIP. CHECK (Okay, I'm ASSUMING I hit 10k. There's a huge chunk of handwritten stuff I haven't yet transferred over, and it's gotta be at LEAST 2k. And considering I only need about 1200, well...I'm giving myself the benefit of the doubt.)

My god, I've been productive this week.

And look at that -- it's already HALFWAY through my LAST QUARTER OF COLLEGE. I'm going to keep CAPITALIZING THINGS to draw attention away from the fact that I have NO PLANS WHATSOEVER other than to MOVE TO A HAMLET IN ENGLAND and live out my days as a DIRECTIONLESS HERMIT.

Yeah, that sounds nice.

Best. Day. EVER.

2010-10-03T19:31:00.002-04:00

Remember when I said I wanted steampunk goggles?

I NOW HAVE STEAMPUNK GOGGLES.

And I plan on wearing them as a headband no matter how many people call me Ramona Flowers. Or maybe just so people will call me Ramona Flowers.

God, I love renaissance festivals.

What I've Been Doing

2010-10-01T22:12:00.002-04:00

I figure I owe all ya'll an update, seeing as it's been about a week since I blogged and I'm supposed to be reporting on my WIP progress. Yes, I know I just said Work in Progress progress. Redundancy FTW.

Anyway, this is what I've been doing:

Thing #1

Thing #2

Thing #3

But I HAVE been writing! I swear! I have about five pages of indecipherable content for my WIP in my school notebook. My professors can testify to the fact that I spend every class period being a diligent, resourceful student by harnessing all that free time to write. It'd make it much easier though if they'd stop talking during writing time. I mean, really, what are they trying to do with all that information about HR and sociology? That doesn't help my WIP at all.

Memo to self: Find out what their incessant babblings are all about.

(Don't worry. I accepted the fact two quarters ago that my professors probably don't like me. It makes school so much more fun. Trust me.

Professor: "I see some of you are taking really good notes, but this won't be on the test."

Me: "Oh, don't worry, I'm not taking notes. I'm writing about a dead Civil War soldier and ghosts and Jews."

Professor: "*stunned silence* This is a business law class."

Me: "Is it? Huh. How much do you know about cars from the 1930s?")

Project Dictionary

2010-09-27T20:46:00.003-04:00

I had an epiphany last night. Don't be scared.

So, I have a problem. A problem I'm a wee bit embarrassed to admit. Bear with me.

*deep breath*

Sometimes, when I'm reading other people's blogs and/or press releases and/or emails and/or news stories, I come across writing terms that make me go "WTFTDTM (What The French Toast Does That Mean)??"

Especially those various deal terms. You know: "significant deal," "good deal," "makes-you-want-to-slam-your-head-into-your-computer-and-give-up-writing-because-they-are-so-much-more-awesome-than-you deal." I come across those terms, and they make me go, "Gee, I wish there was an online dictionary of random and various YA writing terms to which I could refer in these embarrassing situations."

Which in turn made me go, "Gee, that would be kind of fun to put together."

So now I'm going, "Hey, YA writing community, wanna help?"

(If there is already a dictionary like this out there, I am very sorry and did not intentionally swipe your idea. Let me know and I'll more than happily hit you up with some linky-love.)

I've started a list of all the terms I have trouble with/can think of off the top of my head, but I know I'm missing some. I'm only one part of the YA publishing world, and a very small part of the publishing world at that. So to all of you multifaceted members of the YA world, I beseech you:

What writing terms do you know/would like definitions too/think would be useful in a YA Writing Term Dictionary?

The link for said (in progress) dictionary will pop up in my navigation bar in 5...4...3...2...

A Love Letter

2010-09-24T22:28:00.002-04:00

Dear New Book,

Hi. How are you? I'm good. How are your plot twists? Still shocking? I hope so.

That's not really why I'm writing this letter. I mean, I care how you are, but I'm really writing this letter because, well, I just wanted to let you know I like you. A lot. You're the first story in a long, long time that I've really connected with, ya know? And I thought I should let you know. Take risks, right? Gotta jump sometimes. So this is me jumping.

I think you felt it too. I mean tonight, when I wrote that really funny scene. It just felt right. Didn't it? I can't tell you the last time I felt this-- this-- in tune with something. Your characters get me. They're so witty and understanding, and I have to admit, I think about them all the time. They're constantly gibbering in my head, making me count the minutes until I can see you again. And all those epic fight scenes coming up? Those tense revelation scenes? And, of course, those steamy kissing scenes? I'm EXCITED. Excited. I haven't been EXCITED in, well, years.

So I just wanted to let you know. I like you. And I think this you-and-me thing could go somewhere. I'm not trying to go too fast or anything, but I really hope we stick together long enough to create a finished manuscript. Hopefully you feel the same way.

Forever yours,
The Author

The Importance of Being Earnest

2010-09-23T21:50:00.003-04:00

Wait. Who's really earnest anymore?

According to my good friends Merriam and Webster:

Earnest -- A serious and intent mental state

So...I guess everyone. Everyone being all writer-folks. Unless you're those bubbly, giddy writer-types who jot down magical things as easy as they sneeze. Then you probably spend less time being earnest, more time being pelted with things BY earnest writer-folks.

What was my post about? Oh yeah:

It's taken a few years, a lot of personal revelations, a dash of terror, a smidgen of heartache (woa, smidgen is recognized as a word! Another personal revelation...), and a healthy dose of confounded-ness for me to get to a place where I can begin piecing together some semblance of a personal philosophy. You know, an outlook on life. My hakuna matata. Me manifesto. A compendium of all my beliefs.

I know. Heavy stuff.

But, like most aspects of life, I've found that it only takes looking at writing to really see what I believe. Because everything I need to believe, I have come to believe through the writing world. And one of the most important things I've come to learn (and am still in the process of perfecting, mind you) is the ability and dire importance to let myself feel.

Earnestness, anger, jealousy, rage, sorrow, depression, guilt -- you name it. It happens. It happens a LOT. It happens when people get kick-ass deals and I'm still floating in submission land (Pirates are notorious for having SHORT FUSES. Someone buy them SOON or they will attack the publishing industry with their steamboats and water nymphs and crocpeople and I won't be able to do a THING about it). It happens when one of my awesome friends sends me a KILLER manuscript and I grovel in my perpetual inability to commit to any story long enough to even DEVELOP a manuscript, yet alone a killer one. It happens when I end another week without having done any of the research I'd intended to do, and see an entire 7 days I could've used to get that much farther ahead with any of my could-be-awesome ideas.

I used to fight it. I used to feel those feelings coming on and fight them tooth and nail, violently opposed to letting myself admit I felt those things. No, I wasn't jealous. No, I wasn't angry. No, I wasn't *insert adjective here*. I wasn't I wasn't Iwasn't. I was strong and talented and capable and totally and completely in control of my future and career and feelings and I would NOT succumb to petty little emotions and see, I feel better already?

But smushing those feelings down doesn't do anyone a damn bit of good. In fact, it just makes them stronger the next time they come. And the next time. And the next. And before you know it, you're hyperventilating in the car on the way home from your "real" job because there were 5 more hours you COULD'VE spent writing, dammit, but you DIDN'T, and now you're going to go home and just make dinner and veg in front of the TV all night because you're too tired to write, and there'll go ANOTHER 5 hours...

So I tried something once. I felt a wave of jealousy rise up in me. And I -- let it. I saw it and waved to it. "Hey, I know you. You're that green thing that's been here before. How's it going?"

And you know what? It nodded at me. Brushed some dust off its coat. And took a seat in the back corner, foregoing any of its usual quiet bickering.

It's something I learned from Eat Pray Love. To embrace you, all of you, every flawed bit. We've been trained to resist bad things, to fight the good fight. But it's so much easier, so much less stressful, to just let it be. To recognize the bad stuff welling up inside of you but say "I see it. It's okay. I still love you."

So, next time you feel yourself needing to be earnest, ride it out. Unless that earnestness compels you to pelt bubbly, giddy writer-type people with blocks of Post Its. Then by all means, harness that earnestness and pelt away.

New Clothes

2010-09-21T22:22:00.003-04:00

Ya dig?

This is how I spent the better part of my Monday night. *waves at new blog layout* Pretty? Even if you don't think so, lie to me, because I spent a long many hours reworking the title picture so it'd be mostly centered and playing with the apps so they were arranged just so and generally getting so frustrated with my impatience with technology that I went to bed shaking.

Patience is SO not my virtue. I'm in the wrong profession.

Anyway, hopefully it isn't too appalling, what with my obvious skill with graphic design. Now I'm off to get some sleep before I embark on a fun-filled day of homeworking. Turns out I have to actually DO work before they give me my diploma. No one told me this at orientation.

AND I just realized I missed International Talk Like a Pirate Day! Blast my forgetful tendencies. Even though French Sam (my nicknaming abilities are as amazing as my graphic design abilities) reminded me a few days before. They'll kick me out of the pirate club for this infraction. Good thing Yazoo's on my side. No one can say no to him. You know, without getting a crocperson dropped into their bathtub. While they're in it.

And that's my cue to go to bed. Cheers.

SPEAK Loudly

2010-09-19T21:04:00.002-04:00

Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to go. to. bed. Long weekend, little sleep, and a cold-that-isn't-a-cold-that-wants-to-be-a-cold-but-I'll-be-DAMNED-if-it-is-a-cold are slowly wearing on me. So I had every intention of holding off on this post until tomorrow, when I was slightly more coherent or at least had a few more hours of sleep under my belt. But I checked Blogger one last time before I called it a night and saw this post. And I couldn't not put mine up tonight.

You can read the actual attack on SPEAK here. Many, many other fabulous bloggers have explanations of it too, so you can shoot on over to this post, this post, or Laurie's post. These women are amazing for speaking out and being so brave as to voice their opinions against the heinous accusations about SPEAK. People like this make me inordinately proud to be part of the writing blogosphere.

Now, on to my stance.

Unlike many of the other bloggers who have been speaking up, I am not a Christian. I used to be. I used to be the strongest, most devoted, most intense Christian possible. I used to be, as I call it now, a "psycho-Christian." The in-your-face, life-or-death, every-day-is-a-battlefield Christian. The kind of Christian that gives other Christians a bad name. At the time, though, it was EVERYTHING to me. They taught me how to eat, how to pray, how to talk, how to function. They told me what to believe about sex, relationships, the law, the world. There wasn't a single thing I did that didn't have a solid foundation in my Christian leaders' teachings, and every time they opened their mouths they sounded exactly like Scroggins.

One of the biggest issues they had was when Harry Potter exploded onto the scene in the early 2000's. An entire book about witchcraft. An entire SERIES that promoted Wiccan. This book was evil, pure evil, a handbook for people who wanted to unleash sinful things onto the world. Every pulpit, classroom, and lecture hall resounded with the voices of my Christian leaders condemning Harry Potter.

But when asked if they ever read it: "Of course not!"

This response, and their many subsequent and equally infuriating responses to other questions, eventually led me to escape their downright terrifying cult. But that's another thing about it -- it isn't a cult to them. THEY are the good guys and people like the KKK and extremist Muslims are the bad guys. "Obvious" bad guys. But not MY church. Not us. They just sit around, telling people what to believe without ever actually letting them figure out whether or not it's right for them. They just destroy people's minds with barriers of "Don't question God!" instead of destroying people's bodies with bombs or fire or guns. They just tell you exactly how to live, then when you fail to live up to their laws because humans have never-accounted-for-flaws, they ostracize you and berate you for not being "in line with God" no matter how hard you break yourself for their cause.

Yeah, THEY'RE the good guys.

(I'll probably tick some people off with this (lord knows I have already in the years since I denounced my Christianity), but that's not my intent at all. I'm not saying ALL Christians are like this. Absolutely, 100% NOT. Hell, scroll back up to the top of my post; I linked to 4 different women who profess to being Christians. I am a huge supporter of faith. I'm just telling you my story, MY STORY, so you will know why Scroggins' accusation was personally disgusting to ME. The sect of Christianity that I was a part of is a very, very extremist sect, and should not be seen as a general view on all Christianity.)

Scroggins' opinion was not at all surprising to me. I've heard such an opinion so many times before on a myriad of different areas of life. Books, movies, music, magazines, websites, social networking sites, even "too liberal" Bibles and Bible studies. If anything strayed at all into the realm of uncomfortable, real, or painful, my Christian leaders would deem it unholy and sinful. All we needed to fill our little heads with were stories of God's power and might and how we can all grow up to be holy, shining beacons of Heaven. And those stories are great -- but not when they're the only thing you read. Not when you grow up for 18 years in a bubble of "OUR world is perfect. That world is scary. We're not going to tell you why it's scary, because you'll never need to leave our world to go there, but it's scary. Trust us."

So when I left "their world" and discovered that the "real world" wasn't scary -- it was just unknown -- I was more than a little shocked. I'm still shocked. The shock of going from a world where everything is controllable and perfect and shining and purposeful to a world of chaos and disorder and madness and beautiful, glittering uncertainty is something that has taken 3 years to sink in. I still find myself gawking at how little I knew the world around me for the first 18 years of my life. All because my Christian leaders saw books like SPEAK, books that showed the reality of the world without any mention of God or heaven or redemption through Jesus Christ, and banned them. People saving THEMSELVES? People overcoming obstacles WITHOUT God's grace? Blasphemous. Wicked, corrupt blasphemy.

And it's disgusting. It's absolutely disgusting that when something shows a different side of this wondrous, multifaceted world we live in, Christian leaders such as Scroggins block it from the view of those children under their tutelage. Like if they keep barring enough things, their children will continue to grow up in the perfect bubble they shaped for them and nothing bad will ever penetrate their thick layer of God-skin.

But even while I was in the throws of "psycho-Christianity", imperfection worked its way in. People got hurt, attacked, destroyed. Usually, mostly, by other "Christians." My boyfriend during the last years of my Christianity was a horrific, abusive person, but he was God's chosen one for me. So no one stepped in. I didn't step in. When bad things penetrated the God-bubble, no one did anything to stop them. God's will. It was always God's will.

This was the biggest reason I left Christianity. I couldn't stand everyone doing NOTHING. Throwing up barriers against books like SPEAK yet doing nothing at all to prevent a young mother from being beaten by her husband, or refusing to step in to stop a dysfunctional family, or neglecting to get real medical treatment for a disease, all because it was "God's will." It was God's will that people died young. It was God's will that families fell apart. It was God's will that perfect, innocent young girls were attacked.

I couldn't take it anymore. When I left, all I could think, all I can STILL think about them is "FUCK YOUR GOD'S WILL."

MY will is that girls, boys, anyone who needs fantastic, soul-nourishing books like SPEAK have access to them without being berated by supposed leaders. MY will is that beautiful little girls who are told God has a reason for their pain will realize one day that there is NO reason good enough for that to have happened, and NO God would purposefully cause any of it to happen. It's not their fault, and God did NOT put that situation in their life for some almighty plan. It's THEIR life. Theirs. Not God's. THEIRS. And whatever good comes from it came because those little girls were strong enough, brave enough, and amazing enough to make a rose blossom in a pile of garbage.

That is the lesson I live my life by now. A lesson that SPEAK helped instill in me. No matter what bad comes, it isn't because some psycho-Christian's God dropped it into my life for a "higher purpose" that I'm not worthy enough to know. It's because shit happens. SHIT HAPPENS. And if I become a stronger, bolder, braver woman because of a bad situation, it isn't because a psycho-Christian's God instilled the strength in me. It's because I was strong all along. It's because I CHOSE to be strong, and to rise above it, and to not let a bad situation have victory over me.

"A small, clean part of me waits to warm and burst through the surface. Some quiet Melinda-girl I haven't seen in months. That is the seed I will care for." -- SPEAK

That line is my single favorite line from a book. It captures the essence of this life I'm trying to now lead. Throughout our lives, when bad things arise, there is always a tiny seed of ourselves behind it all, whispering quietly in the dark. It's there, even when we're broken beyond repair and can't possibly move beyond the horrible, ominous dark. It's there. The quiet seed of ourselves that's waiting, just waiting for us to turn to it and say "I will be okay." And when we finally find the small sliver of strength to say that, the small part of ourselves that's been waiting all this time to hear it will smile. "I know," it'll say. "Now let's go back toward the light."

And if that displeases Scroggins' God, he isn't much of a god then, is he?

Thoughts Post-Easy A

2010-09-17T21:59:00.003-04:00

Certain genres of movies infuse me with all sorts of post-movie-wisdom once I leave the theater. Scott Pilgrim was one. Easy A is another. And I like lists, so:

1) The banter in this movie was UNBELIEVABLE. And this is coming from the girl who owns the last 4 seasons of Gilmore Girls and finds ways to work Lorelai-sayings into daily life. I can't choose just one Easy A line as my favorite, so I'll just jot down those that stuck in my head:

Mary Anne: "If God wanted him to pass high school, He would've given him the right answers to the tests."
Olive: "You've gotta be shitting me, woman."

Olive's Mom (to her black son): "Don't worry, honey; everyone in our family's been a late bloomer."
Son: "But I was ADOPTED!"
Dad: *bangs on cupboard* "Who told you?!"

Dad: *plops next to adopted son on couch* "So, where ya from?"

There were so many lines that made me start to applaud, realize I was in a packed movie theater, and settle for quietly bouncing in my seat. This still elicited strange glances from the people around me, but when directors make an entire subsection of characters for the sole purpose of exhibiting the zealous characteristics of most mega-religions, I can't not squeal with joy. Bravo, Hollywood, for having the guts to make fun of what I usually get harped on for making fun of. Bravo.

2) The main character, Olive, is played by Emma Stone (who also played in Zombieland. I have such a girl-crush on her, right up there with Allison Scagliotti from Warehouse 13). Despite a few minor plot holes that I won't go into nitpicking, Olive is a fantastic embodiment of the stay-true-to-yourself coming-of-age storyline. Even when she gets herself stuck in the slut role, she OWNS it. This, of course, got me thinking.

How often do we OWN what we do, especially our mistakes? So much of our lives (or, at least, MY life, as I certainly can't speak for everyone) are spent trying to cover up what we've done or trying fix who we are so we can become someone better and THEN own THAT person, but lord knows THIS person is a horrible mistake of a person and good god, do you see THAT flaw, no, we can't possibly own being THIS person.

But Olive totally and completely embraces every mistake of hers. She tries to help out a gay friend and now people think she's a slut? No problem: she embroiders red A's on her wardrobe and dresses like a 50's burlesque dancer. She sees the problem, the rumor, but takes the idea and runs with it. The ultimate "untouchable" stance.

(Of course it ends up being *slightly* more than untouchable, but you'll just have to watch the movie.)

That kind of confidence is brilliant. To look at your mistakes and, instead of dissolving in a weeping heap of "But I'm NOT a slut! Why do they think that? Why are they so MEAN?", rise above them in a totally certain, I-am-ME-hear-me-roar way. I'm not saying to never admit to your mistakes; I'm saying to not let them defeat you. To not let them keep you awake at night, running through your head like they downed a carton of Mountain Dew and two packs of energy bars. To say to them, "Yes, I screwed up. But you know what? It's MY screw up now. And right or wrong, good or bad, I made it. So there. :P"

Utah Saga: Part the Third

2010-09-16T22:26:00.006-04:00

Below you will find my final Utah Saga post, in which I smush everything that didn't really fit anywhere else. If it doesn't make sense, I have done my work well.

Giant egg seat! No home is complete without one.

OMG! It's Carrie Harris' book cover! In a frozen yogurt shop! Can we say "best advertising ever"?

In-ground trampoline! I'm easily entertained.

Between Carrabba's, Natalie's curry, and sushi, I think I gained somewhere around 30 lbs this trip. But it was so, SO worth it.

Utah Saga: Part the Second

2010-09-15T19:21:00.013-04:00

The second part of my Utah Saga of Awesome begins with a clue.

Cupcakes? In a bookstore? I knew I liked this state.

Pink frosted cupcakes in a bookstore can only mean one thing:

PARANORMALCY SIGNING!

Look at us, all excited and stuff.

The signing was at a teeny bookstore in Salt Lake City called the King's English. It's one of those freakishly adorable house-turned-Indie-bookstores that has a maze of at least 20 different rooms, each with multiple book themes. I lost Natalie twice.

The actual signing was on the patio, where we waited with bated breath for:

HOLY BLEEP, the quilt! The quilt!

Kiersten was there too. And she had a book, or something?

BLEEP PART DEUX! A matching purse!

Much to my chagrin, neither the quilt, the zebra-print book purse, or that a-freakin'-dorable little girl in the background were for sale. Blast Kiersten and her luckiness.

Kiersten explained a bit about PARANORMALCY, did a reading...

Vampires! Tasey! Chaos!

...and answered questions. After which we all mad-dashed back into the bookstore because this was waiting for us:

Dude.

But one of the many upsides of this predicament was the opportunity to converse with all of the people in line, who turned out to be mainly Bloggers of Epic Epicness. I felt like such a groupie, meeting all these people I'd admired from afar for so many years.

"You're a REAL PERSON?! No way! Me TOO!"

And, after much chatting and giggling and maneuvering around that teeny bookstore (shout-out to the poor bookstore girl who had the daunting task of keeping us crazy writer/blogger/book fans in check!), I finally made it to THE table, where I met THE Kiersten (again), who signed THE book. Or, you know, ONE of THE books.

AND I snagged a couple of AWESOME kt literary client swag from the table:

Are bookmarks swag? I'm calling them swag.

Whew! All kinds of excitement! Gotta take a breath.

Pop on back tomorrow for Utah Saga: Part the Third, or Utah Saga: Part with the Stuff that Wouldn't Fit Anywhere Else.

Utah Saga: Part the First

2010-09-14T18:29:00.007-04:00

So, those massive amounts of pictures and stories of Utah excitement I promised? Prepare to be AMAZED.

*waits*

Are you prepared? Seat belts fastened, trays locked, seat backs in the upright position? Note the exits at the front and back of the blog as well as the complimentary neon-pink barf bag in the seat pocket. If at any time you feel motion sick, nauseous, irritable, cranky, congested, sneezy, dopey, happy or grumpy, please alert one of your stewardesses and they will provide you with a box of furry little Corgi puppies to ease any troubles you may have. Corgi puppies solve everything. Trust me; I'm not a pilot.

Firstly, the single biggest reason you all should be jealous of my Utah Saga of Pure Awesome is because I got to spend 5 whole days with one of the most amazing people in the blogosophere and real-o-sphere, Natalie. Not only did she put me up in her home and chauffeur me back and forth to Starbucks to satisfy my morning cravings, she made me curry and took me to get sushi and made sure all of my first impressions of Utah were fabulous. I may gush, so I'll stop. But if it wasn't for her sheer awesomeness (and, of course, the awesomeness of her hubby and two a-freakin'-dorable kids), none of this Utah Saga would be possible.

One of the first things I heard about Utah was that there were some mountains, or something. I think it's a rumor.

Seriously, Utah. You can do better. Psh. It's like you're TRYING to make easy photo-ops. You don't have to flaunt it.

This person drove to the mountains from New York. NEW YORK. Let that sink in.

But even more impressive and beautiful and majestic were the FABULOUS writers I got to have lunch with on Friday. (Side note: When I die, I want it to be because I ate too much creme brulee at Carrabbas's Italian Grill.)

That's me, Natalie, Kiersten, and Renee. I kept thinking the universe would implode from the absolute amazingness of so many wonderful people in one place. These ladies are all as brilliant and funny and whitty and beautiful in real life as they are on their blogs.

So as not to overload you with Utah Awesomeness, I shall break this trip into 3 parts. Stay tuned tomorrow for Utah Saga: Part the Second!

OMGOSH GUYS

2010-09-08T17:02:00.003-04:00

I get to do something AMAZING tomorrow.

I get to go to UTAH.

And visit some FREAKISHLY AWESOME PEOPLE.

Namely this freakishly awesome Ninja Woman, whom I have adored distantly for 2-ish years. And tomorrow, nay, in mere HOURS, I get to MEET HER. Face to FACE. Pirate to NINJA. Cutlass to THROWING STAR.

Can you feel the IMPORTANCE? I can. I can feel it.

I promise promise (cross my heart, hope to die, stick a peg-leg in my eye) that I will fill you all in with massive amounts of pictures and stories of Utah excitement when I get back next week. But until I return, I will be AWOL from the general social networking community. (Facebook and I have been at odds lately anyway. Twitter I'm okay with, Blogger too, but Facebook. Grr, Facebook. We need a break. It's not you, it's me. No, actually, it's you. You kind of make my life suck a little.)

To sum up: I get to meet someone I never would've known if it weren't for the sheer awesomeness of the writing community. The fact that writing brought me to know Natalie and a whole plethora of fantastic people is more mind-blowingly amazing than a book deal ever could be.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go re-color my rather faded purple hair streak. Can't have the Utahns thinking us Ohioans are unkempt.

Step #2: Haunted Places and Judaism

2010-09-03T15:59:00.002-04:00

Character sheets: DONE.

Well, that is if your definition of "done" is "really, really thought about," then yes, they are done.

In my defense, I ran into a snag. I know nothing about the Civil War, Judaism, Haunted stuff, Photography or any of the other random and various things that will make this book multifaceted and awesome. So when I got to the question about Elias's birthday I put "Before the Civil War. Which was...um...18...50? 1860? 18-something. November 13, 18-something." Or for the question about Sophie's favorite sayings/expressions, I put "Jewish stuff. Dreidel. Matza balls. Oh, that's good! As a curse word: 'Oh, matza balls!'"

Needless to say, I made a LOT of headway. Again, if your definition of "headway" is "really, really thought about."

Which brings me to the next by-the-book step in novel writing: research. As much as I just want to start writing (that empty Word doc is calling my name. Screaming it. Sometimes it sings my name with John Rzeznik's voice and it takes everything in me to just...say...no.) I know it will only lead to a wall of frustration and not-as-good-as-it-could-have-been. So, in order to properly complete my character sheets and move forward, I Amazoned a few book purchases:

Judaism for Dummies and Encyclopedia of Haunted Places

The order police at Amazon are now going "What the matza balls?"

One of the good things about being a writer is you get to become a semi-expert in a bunch of areas. Which has always been a problem for me -- I like a LOT of different things and have a really hard time sticking to any one area for extended periods of time. Just ask my college counselors. Eight different majors. 3.5 years. That's gotta be some kind of record.

But now I get to research Judaism, Haunted places, and a whole other slew of stuff that has no logical connection or link. Randomness FTW.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go convince my friends to insert "matza balls" into daily their profanities.

Visual Inspiration: SNI Edition

2010-08-30T22:39:00.014-04:00

Behold, a visual inspiration collage for my Shiny New Idea. It was through this collage that I discovered my MC's love of photography. Who knew?

YOU GOTTA MAKE ME, GUYS

2010-08-30T18:59:00.003-04:00

So I've decided to elect all ya'll my own personal band of harassers. I hereby give you permission to blackmail, coerce, tempt, lure, incite, anger, offend, or otherwise negatively project yourself onto me so long as the ultimate result is me FREAKIN' WRITING.

I mean, I HAVE been writing. But this writing consists solely of stuff for freelancin', which does not qualify as novel-writing, which does not contribute in anyway to any book I may want to produce in the foreseeable future. Unless that book has anything to do with Russia. Which it probably won't. For now.

(AND school will be starting next week. Which is never a problem, but, you know, I'll have to set aside at least 30 minutes a week to pretend I'm doing homework. Last-quarter-of-school-and-I-just-don't-CARE-about-business-law-or-the-sociology-of-gender-anymore FTW.)

The kick-start to all ya'll's help (hey, look, my southern drawl again! *waves to southern drawl*) resulted in a veryclose name result. 5 to Jeb, 7 to Elias. Too close to call? Let's pull out the tie-breaker. The MC's name is Sophie. So, logically, the best way to decide which name fits her would be: name-mashing.

(Stop looking at me like that. I am SO not the only writer who thinks like this.)

Sophie and Jeb: Sopheb
Sophie and Elias: Sophias

(Though it just occurred to me that no one ever name-mashed the Twilight series. Bellward or Bellcob? I guess there's a reason no one ever name-mashed Twilight series. Which means my evil master plan isn't fool-proof. BLAST.)

I'm going to play the Author card then: Elias it is. If only because nicknames are possible with Elias, not so much with Jeb. Li, El. That's how the MC in STREAM PIRATE became Alluvial. I'm such a nickname whore.

So now that we have the name fiasco sorted out, the next step is: character sketches.

I don't usually do character sketches. For my last few novels (that were mostly novel attempts), I just grabbed an idea and dove in. This method, while excellent for rapid-fire-outlet-writing, isn't so good when you want to produce readable, decent material. I tend to get the story going reallyfastreallyfast but sorely and desperately lack in the characterization department. So much so that whenever I send something out to be beta-ed I 9.999 times out of 10 expect their #1 concern to be "WHO THE HELL IS YOUR MC??" They're much nicer, of course.

This time, I'm by the book. Pun intended.

My beautiful and wonderful ninja friend Natalie did a post on character sheets. She linked to a webpage with a pretty darn decent character sheet. I was going to fill out the character sheet here, but at the risk of making this the world's longest post, I'll do it on my own time. But MAKE SURE I do it, guys. Abuse your Right to Blackmail, Coerce, Tempt, etc etc. The future of Sophias depends on you.

(The character sheet is 9 pages! 9! I can't answer that many questions about MYSELF, let alone one of my characters! whinewhinewhine)

Feeling lazy, soooo...

2010-08-26T23:24:00.003-04:00

Question: What do you get when you mix repeated viewings of Ghost Adventures, 2AM, and Sara?

Answer: A SUPER FUN story idea.

Problem: I'm feeling lazy. Don't judge me. It's my birthday; I'll divvy up the work detail if I want to.

So, I have a little assignment for you. It'll be fun. Trust me. I'll even make it into a game. Won't that be fun? Everyone loves games!

*cue cheesy carnival music*

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, gather 'round whilst I present to you an opportunity unlike any other. A world wonder, a whiff of the incredible, a brush with destiny, an overly-fluffed taste of my indecisive tendencies. I give you:

NAME THAT LOVE INTEREST!

That's right! For a LIMITED TIME ONLY, you too can have a hand in determining my MC's love interest's NAME! Hop over to the sidebar for the poll and choose which sounds like the perfect blend of dreamy-sweet-slightly-naive and Civil-War-era-soldier. I will be eternally in your debt. Or, you know, until I have another problem for you to solve.

(Have I mentioned how pretty you are? Because you are. Really. You look like JUST the kind of person who would know EXACTLY what name to pick. *nudge*)

Trash

2010-08-23T21:50:00.003-04:00

No matter how often I clean my room, I can never seen to get rid of all the junk.

Today's trash bag tally: three. THREE trash bags. People think I'm joking when I say that my stuff spontaneously clones itself when I leave the room. Well, I don't see me laughing when I have to shove those three stupid-heavy trash bags into the garbage cans that for whatever reason are always wedged thisclose to my mom's CRV. Cirque de Soleil applauds my acrobatic bag-shoving abilities.

Struggle aside, the results are always well worth it. My room feels lighter. Less burdened. Like if there was an air-raid I could throw my entire room into two suitcases and be in the bunker watching Gilmore Girls before the rest of my family even heard the siren.

(Mental note: get a bunker.)

That's how I like it. Simple. No muss, no fuss, all the gain without the pain. But this cleaning time, oh, this cleaning time was different. Drastic. Nay, demented. A no-holds-bar purging of everything that even hinted at unnecessary, useless, or good-god-I-bought-that-in-1997. There is absolutely nothing left in my room that isn't entirely needed.

(Okay, that's a lie. I kept my Declaration of Independence shot glass and this funny little mini-fork I got at a rehearsal dinner. It reminded me of a tiny version of the trident in The Little Mermaid.)

I've tried to pinpoint what brings on these desperate needs to clean. Some kind of hormonal nesting urge? One too many episodes of Hoarders? Whatever the reason, the feeling afterward is always the same. Sitting at my desk, looking around my room, twiddling my thumbs. Thinking, "All right. It's time."

But -- time for what?

I feel like something has to happen now. I've cleaned out all this space for Something to come; it'd be downright rude of it not to take the hint and swoop in, right?

I'll be 21 in two days. A college graduate in 3 months. I think the Something that's coming is -- well, lets just say that Something has to happen, because the only alternative at this point in my life is a big, dark vortex of Nothing that doesn't usually come until you're yelling at nurses for stealing your denture paste.

People usually have an idea of what Something is, don't they? At this point in the game, they at least have a slight illusion of Something. "Oh hey, look, there's that rascal Something; see his silhouette in the door there?"

Nope. Not me. No silhouette. Not anymore. I just know that wherever my Something is, I don't want to go chasing after it with three trash bags of my past weighing me down.

That bunker might be kind of nice right about now, actually.

Thoughts Post-Pilgrim

2010-08-17T21:59:00.002-04:00

Just came back from watching Scott Pilgrim vs The World. Must jot down my incoherent-list-of-post-movie-thoughts-that-came-to-me-on-the-drive-home-and-made-me-chuckle-so-they'll-make-you-chuckle-too:

#1) There were a total of about 30 people in the theater. 4 of them were girls. This made me giggle through the entire movie.

#2) I MUST HAVE steampunk goggles.

#3) Ramona Flowers is my hair idol.

#4) Life would be so much more awesome if during bad situations giant KA-POW! signs would explode over peoples' heads.

#5) The perfect Ultimate Geek Night movie blend would be a showing of Zombieland followed by a dose of Kick-Ass with a finale of Scott Pilgrim. A gentle easing into the newly-developed nerd genre with a *pinch* of eye candy and *smidgen* of gut-pounding fight scenes. Not heart-pounding. Gut-pounding. Don't think about that too long.

#6) Ramona Flowers is my hair idol. Did I say that already?

Introducing Miss Max

2010-08-13T00:47:00.003-04:00

So I'm thinking of making Max a girl.

If you haven't been able to tell already, this story has put me through HELL. It started as a distant future post-apoc with a male MC in France and is now an alternate history steampunk with a female MC in England.

HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

No. Seriously. How did this happen? If you were expecting an inspiring and awe-inducing post about how stories always turn out how they're meant to and characters will always come through for you and how writing is the bestest, greatest profession EVER, well, you won't find that here. Because I am TOTALLY STRUNG OUT.

I mean, REALLY, Max. Who the expletive are you? And WHERE are you? And who is around you? And what are they wearing? And why can't you stop being a stubborn little momma's boy (girl?) and freakin' let me write your story already?! It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to stop CHANGING as often as American Idol gets new judges. Psh.

I think part of my problem might be that Max is conspiring with Puppy. As long as Max keeps me confused and not writing, Puppy gets my undivided attention. But when I do get infrequent bursts of "Hey-I-think-I-have-a-breakthrough," Puppy gets hours of me sitting at my laptop, absently telling her I'll be done in a minute. Then she looks at me like this:

Get off your freakin' computer and PLAY WITH ME.

And it turns out my "breakthrough" isn't so much a breakthrough as a revelation that my MC might've been the wrong gender all along. Which leaves me confused, perplexed, and puzzled, and all of those things result in me not writing and playing with Puppy.

Coincidence? I think not.

When Good Characters Go...Good-er

2010-08-10T13:24:00.003-04:00

The following conversation was transcribed by an anonymous bystander on August 9, 2010. Names were changed to protect the identities of the participants, but the anonymous bystander, who apparently suffered numerous psychological and emotional strains from having to listen to this conversation firsthand, urged the real names to be used under the claim that "the participants deserve to have their insanity proclaimed to the world. Idiots."

Sara: Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I can do nothing.

*crosses legs*

*curls fingers into little o's*

Sara: Ommmm

*opens eye a crack*

*notices people watching*

*closes eye*

Sara: OMMMMMM

Ambition: Hey. Look at this.

Sara: OM. OM. OMOMOMOMOM. Mom? No. Focus. OMMMMMM.

Ambition: YOU REALLY NEED TO SEE THIS. And I have a friend who wants to talk to you too. He misses you. I'll bring him in.

Sara: *peeks again*

*notices Ambition is gone for the moment*

*clicks link he left*

Sara: Damn.

Ambition: *returns* Here he is. I'll leave you two to chat. Oh, I see you opened the link I left? Thought you might like that. Why didn't you think of doing something like that YEARS ago? Oh, well. At least you found it now. You might like some of the jobs posted on August 2 or 3. Just saying.

Sara: DAMN. *curls fingers again* DAMMMMMN. I like that mantra better.

Ambition: Leaving now. TALK TO MY FRIEND. He misses you. I think you two can have an enlightening chat. *leaves*

Sara: *eyes new arrival* Oh. YOU again. What do YOU want?

Max: *sits next to Sara*

*tries to sit yoga-cross-legged*

*falls over*

*sits up*

Max: Hi. Um. I was hoping we could-- talk.

Sara: We did talk. More than SEVEN THOUSAND words of "talk." And it all SUCKED. Sucked, sucked, sucked. What more could you possibly have to say to me? Want to suck for EIGHT THOUSAND words? NINE? When does it END?

*closes eyes*

Sara: Ommmmm.

Max: I know, I know. I've been really difficult lately. And I don't deserve a second chance.

Sara: Second? More like fifteenth.

Max: I'm sorry. But I've changed. I've had a lot of time to think, and I'm ready. I'm ready to commit to my story.

Sara: *opens one eye* You're-- committing?

Max: I am. I'm ready to get this car on the road.

Sara: Show. Show on the road.

Max: Why would there be a show on a road? That sounds dangerous.

Sara: No, it's not actually ON the road, it's-- *gives up* So what are you proposing, then? I should open your document again and it will all magically not suck? You can't just UNDO seven thousand words of SUCK. It doesn't work like that.

Max: I know. Which is why I think we should...start over.

Sara: *opens both eyes*

*glares at Max*

*closes eyes*

*counts to three*

*opens eyes again*

Sara: START OVER?!

Max: Just hear me out!

Sara: I've been harping on you for MONTHS about what your story is about and where it's going and why it isn't working and all this time you've been telling me the WRONG STORY??

Max: Yes.

Sara: *speechless*

Max: But this one is good. REALLY good. And I'll let you have a pirate or two.

Sara: *starts to get up*

*hears the word "pirate"*

*sits*

Sara: I'm listening.

Project Nothing

2010-08-01T18:40:00.002-04:00

I don't usually go for the "mainstream" books. You know, those books that are on EVERYONE's summer reading list, or the books that EVERYONE is OMGOSH freaking out about. I never read Harry Potter (dodges flying wands). I only read Twilight because my cousins forced me (love you anyway, guys!).

So it was with great hesitation that I bought Eat Pray Love. See, the movie looked fantastic...

It hooked me with one line: "You don't need a man. You need a champion."

And I pretty much knew I'd be breaking my resistance-to-all-things-mainstream-because-I'm-stubborn-and-HAVE-to-not-do-what-EVERYONE-ELSE-is-doing.

So I bought the book on iTunes and listened to the first, um, chunk (hard to tell what chapter I left on) on the way to visit some friends yesterday. I have never in my life wanted to spend an entire day driving, but yesterday, that was all I wanted. To drive and drive, and listen to Eat Pray Love until my gas tank ran dry. Because, dudes, this book is ART.

Elizabeth Gilbert is officially my writing icon -- I swear, the woman could describe concrete in such a way that would make readers groan and start gnawing on the sidewalk. As someone who can't eat most foods due to insane food allergies, listening to Liz Gilbert describe pizza in Italy and creamy pastries and PIZZA IN ITALY (and...there was one other thing...oh yeah. PIZZA. IN ITALY. *dies of desire*) was absolutely the cruelest form of punishment I've ever inflicted on myself. I actually broke down and made yeast-free pizza today, but alas, it fell so far short of Liz's that it can't even smell the wafting remains of her description.

I loved (am loving -- not done with it yet) this book for more reasons than her Food Network-like ability to use the words "luscious" and "savory" in such a way that your stomach actually says "WANT." She touched on a topic that I've been thinking about, well, my entire life.

BREAKS.

Relaxation. Doing NOTHING. How the rest of the world seems perfectly able to just do NOTHING for hours upon hours, while Americans seem driven by this constant need to be doing SOMETHING. Even when we're on vacation. If we aren't being productive in some way, shape, or form, well, we'd better be sleeping. And even when we're sleeping, well, we'd better be REM-ing it up. And even when we're, REM-ing, well -- you get the picture.

I went with my family to North Carolina for a little getaway this year. The entire week we stayed there, though, drove me NUTS. All my family wanted to do was sit on the beach or by the pool or walk around gift shops. Halfway through the week, I started to analyze my overwhelming anxiety when I'd just sit by the pool. Why did I have to do something? Why did I have to finish the stack of books I'd brought? Why did I have to bring a notebook and chart story plots or character arcs? Why couldn't I just -- BREAK?

I've constantly been doing something. Every day. For the past almost-21-years. I've constantly been writing or trying to write or querying or trying to query or homeworking or schooling or reading or researching or organizing or SOMETHING that would benefit my ominous "future." Every day. For the past almost-21-years. People seem shocked to find out I have an agent so young, and have written novel(s), and have *insert achievement here*. But I'm not shocked. I've worked my a$$ off for everything I have. I just -- don't know how to NOT do it.

I don't know how to take a moment in time and do nothing. No reading or writing or worrying about reading or writing.

But if I don't read that stack of books, I won't know who everyone's talking about--

But if I don't write that story, someone else will get to the idea first--

But if I don't research jobs, I won't be prepared when I graduate--

But-- but-- but--

It's similar to what Liz Gilbert deals with in Eat Pray Love. She linked it back to our Puritan roots, a society that frowned upon "worldly" pleasures. Many of us, myself included, have some basis in that society/mindset. That we have to somehow "earn" our pleasure. That we aren't allowed to relax until we reach Goal A, or maybe after Goal B, no, wait, Goal C, we'll relax after Goal C--

It shocked me to find that there are other cultures (namely, Italian) who would scoff at the idea of "earning" pleasure. Our ads that proclaim "Use Product X! You're worth it!" would make them go "Um...duh," while it makes us go "Yes...I am worth it! Yes!"

And that's SAD.

So I've decided that for the entire month of August, my last full month before my last quarter of college, I am going to do NOTHING. I'm not going to worry about writing. I'm not going to worry about reading. I'm only going to do things when they seem like terrifically fun ideas, not because I feel guilty. I'm going to sit for long periods of time doing nothing. Nothing will be the theme of my month. Nothing, Nothing, sweet and glorious and maddening Nothing.

If anyone would like to join me, they are more than welcome. I know I could certainly use a Nothing Accountability Partner.

This is going to be interesting.

Power Up

2010-07-29T21:24:00.002-04:00

So last night, at around 12, The Sister and I got the brilliant idea to watch He's Just Not That Into You. Because sometimes you just need to watch a sappy chick-flick in the middle of the night.

Whilst watching it, I was reminded of something. The reason I post things like this, the reason I try to be honest in my posts, regardless of how difficult it is to admit to some things:

Words are POWERFUL.

In watching HJNTIY, I was empowered to stand up to a lot of things that I'd been letting just -- happen. Hearing some of the things they say in that movie woke me up to a reality I'd been avoiding, pretending it didn't matter as much as it did. In just shy of two hours, my whole demeanor changed.

Because of WORDS.

Because I heard someone say exactly what I needed to hear. Because someone's situation was similar to mine and they overcame it in such a poetic, right way that it made me feel like I could too.

That's why it's so important to write. That's why it's so important not to shy from the truth of situations, no matter how painful they may be. Because somewhere, someone needs to hear exactly what YOU have to say. Somewhere, someone will overcome something because of what YOU said or wrote.

Never underestimate the power of a truly kick-ass sentence.

Back Away Slowly

2010-07-27T22:51:00.003-04:00

(This is the part of my blog where I play Dear Abby.)

I'm well aware of the repercussions that could follow me being so forward on my blog about the happenings of my romantic life (Ha, "romantic." I almost said that with a straight face). But I'm 20-almost-21, a girl, and I greatly dislike keeping things inside when I know that somewhere, maybe, there might be another 20-almost-21-year-old girl who could benefit from knowing that, somewhere, there was once a girl who went through the same thing.

So if you don't care to hear how forward I can be, OMGOSHLOOKAWAYNOW. If you do care: I have another relationship rant. Excited?

I made a connection a few days ago.

Every guy I've ever "been serious" with (Get your mind out of the gutter! By "been serious" I meant "officially called my boyfriend". Geez, people. What kind of girl do you think I am?) (Don't answer that.) used the same pick-up line. A pick-up line that I didn't know was a pick-up line until, well, a few days ago. It's a real kicker:

"You're FASCINATING."

That's it. Two words. Er, well, they were usually arranged into more elaborate sentences than just those two words, but the gist was the same. Because I didn't get crazy drunk every weekend or hang out at bars or wear enough makeup to singlehandedly employ every worker at Mary Kay, I was FASCINATING. And because I had goals and had written a novel(s) and WANTED things, I morphed into a kind of foreign-alien-science-project FASCINATING. (And let me tell ya, it is FUN to get stared at like you're a foreign-alien-science-project.)

But how long, exactly, does FASCINATING last?

Two months. Like clockwork.

Making the connection between the fact that my estranged ex's all thought I was FASCINATING and the fact that they bolted like a bored kid on an art museum field trip at an average of two months in (we'll skip the part where I tell you exactly how many estranged ex's I have to contribute to this data) helped me realize something. Something important.

Being FASCINATING is not enough. Being unique is not enough. Being "ahhed" and "ohhed" over is not enough. And despite how the media and general tween-teenage public adores the idea of being the subject of someone's obsession, it isn't all it's cracked up to be.

(*cough no this isn't another subtle blow at certain unmentioned vampire novels cough*)

Just a reminder. Learn from my slip-ups and hold out for someone who thinks you are FASCINATING and driven, talented, beautiful, amazing, etc etc.

Or become a self-professed hermit and live out your days dying of laughter to YouTube videos like this one.

(Guess which option I'm going with.)

Thank you, Travel Channel

2010-07-26T22:41:00.004-04:00

I have a new obsession. It is called Ghost Adventures, and I love watching it at 1AM because it scares me silly. Also because the host looks like this:

...and because they do crazy things like this:

...that give me inspiration for Shiny New Ideas with lots of ghosts and fight scenes and really, really kick-ass fight scenes. And fight scenes.

Now I just have to fill in a plot around all those fight scenes and I'm good to go.

Flowing with the Go

2010-07-25T23:51:00.004-04:00

I used to be a big proponent of going with the flow. You know, letting stuff happen. Hakuna Matata, Kumbaya, etc etc. I think this lifestyle stemmed from the specific type o' religion I was brought up in, a kind that supported letting the Higher Power work while we sat back and watched.

This lifestyle has its benefits. You never stop good things from happening. You are much more-- I want to say "relaxed," but it's really more of a blissful ignorance. You just ARE. Which is great. I am a huge supporter of BEING.

But I think sometimes that lifestyle gets taken to extremes. Sometimes events arise that need to be LIVED. Sometimes situations pop up that need to be attacked and beaten and wrestled into submission. Sometimes your life veers wildly around a corner and you have to leap on it, inject it with a syringe of muscle relaxant, and drag it back to the appropriate path.

The downside of BEING is that it becomes a crutch, an easy-out for people to avoid having to do difficult things. "I'm letting life happen" can become code for "I'm too scared to enact the changes I'd need to make my life better." So you end up settling for a lot of things that fall into your lap instead of fighting for the things you really want. And you wake up one day to realize your life isn't a grand as you thought it'd be.

Even though most self-help books proclaim a life of going with the flow and letting events happen, don't forget to fight too. While amazing things can fall into your lap, amazing things are usually amazing because they were achieved after a long battle. It's your life, after all. Do you want to wait for things to happen or make things happen? Me, I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of wishing and hoping and watching the clock.

Me, I'm in the business of not merely BEING, but EXISTING.

A Trial

2010-07-22T16:04:00.003-04:00

Setting: A court room, high noon, late summer. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolls.

Sara, looking very anxious, rocks back and forth over the defendant's table. She periodically eyes the crowd behind her as though she recognizes them but can't...quite...place them.

The door behind the judge's podium opens.

Disembodied Voice: All rise for the Honorable Judge Oxbow!

Crowd stands. Sara freezes, gaping at the judge as he rises to the podium.

Sara: Yazoo??

Oxbow: Does the defendant refuse to pay respect to the Honorable Judge?

Sara: You're not a judge -- you're a pirate!

Oxbow: Let the records show that the defendant--

Sara: *scrambling to stand* No, no, I'm standing! I'm standing. See? Standing.

Oxbow: Good. Now the state will hear the case--

Sara: What state? WHERE ARE WE??

Oxbow: *exasperated* THE STATE will hear THE CASE of Thorne, Pate, and Unnamed vs. Sara Raasch, Author.

Sara: *groans* Oh no.

Crowd sits as the Honorable Judge Oxbow sits. Sara remains standing, head hanging, as she comes to understand why she has been brought to this godforsaken place.

Judge Oxbow bangs his gavel.

Oxbow: Release the jury!

Sara: "Release"? What the--

The door beside the jury box opens and a group of all-too-familiar faces files in. At this point, Sara whirls on the crowd behind her, then back to the jury, crowd, jury, crowd.

Sara: Object! I have an objection! Objection, OBJECTION, Your Honor!

Oxbow: The trial has not yet begun. There is nothing to object!

Sara: You've compiled a jury of all the characters who had really, really unlucky roles in my books. This isn't fair! And the crowd-- the crowd is a bunch of the minor characters who died in town explosions and battle scenes. THEY ALL HATE ME!

Oxbow: So?

Sara: SO this won't be a fair trial!

Oxbow: You wrote me without an eye. How's THAT for fair?

Sara: Profanity. Carry on.

Oxbow: *adjusts his judge's wig and waggles the gavel at Sara* I don't think you fully realize the consequences of your actions, Madam.

Sara: *snorts* Madam?

Oxbow: Because of your negligence, innocent characters have been suspended in a state of frozen animation for MONTHS. Their lives have literally stopped because you, YOU, were careless and selfish. We have gathered today to hear both sides once and for all and to come to a ruling.

Sara: A ruling?

Oxbow: *shifts through papers* I call the first plaintiff to the stand: Crystal Thorne.

Sara is the only one, again, who doesn't stand when the back doors open. Crystal marches down the aisle and heads straight for the podium where she takes her seat with a flip of her pink-and-black striped hair.

Crystal: Thank you, Your Honor. Nice wig.

Oxbow: *adjusts the wig again* Why don't you begin by stating your case to the jury?

Crystal: Don't mind if I do.

Crystal faces the jury. Sara keeps a stern focus on the defendant's table, afraid to look at the jury for fear their vengeful gazes might incinerate her from the inside out. Or outside in. Neither would feel very good.

Crystal: I'm Crystal Thorne. 16 years old. I should be in the prime of my life, right? Frolicking through a KICK-ASS story. Making sequels. Conquering love triangles. But where am I? WHERE AM I?

Crystal pounds on the podium, enraged.

Crystal: I've been trapped as nothing more than the blinky line thingy in a Word doc for MONTHS! MONTHS! I'm young! I'm interesting! I'm bubbly! LOOK AT MY HAIR! Any author would be THRILLED to have my story. And she's just-- she's just--

Crystal breaks down into sobs, unable to continue. The jury turns, as one, and sets an even more threatening glare on Sara. Sara shifts, pretending to pick at a spot on her jeans.

Oxbow: Thank you, Crystal. Will the next plaintiff please approach the stand?

The doors open again. Sara turns this time and smiles when she sees who the next plaintiff is. Surely HE will stand up for her...

Maxence Pate stands beside Crystal at the podium. He puts his arm around her as she continues to blubber.

Max: I had the same problem too. A solid plot. Strong characterization. A promising future. Then she had to go and lead me on. Make me think I was special. She kept primping me, what she'd wrote of me, but she never wrote more. I just stopped. Do you know what that's like? DO YOU? To just STOP? It doesn't feel right. It ain't right!

Crystal howls, a bit too theatrically. Sara giggles, which elicits shocked gasps from the crowd. One of the jurors stands, hands in fists, but is convinced to sit by another juror.

Oxbow: Do you have anything to say for yourself, Author?

Sara: *giggling* I'm-- sorry?

Oxbow: Sorry? SORRY? Sorry doesn't make up for the wasted months! The stopped lives! Characters FROZE because of you, and you're "sorry"?!

Sara: *standing* Look, I'm sorry you got all worked about this, but it's hard. Don't you realize how awesome all of you are? It's nearly impossible to stick to just ONE story.

Oxbow: That's precisely why we're here today. Jury? Have you come to a conclusion?

One of the jurors grunts in agreement and hands an envelope to the Honorable Judge. Sara squints at him. He looks familiar too -- almost piratic...

Crystal: Wait! You haven't heard the last plaintiff!

Oxbow: *rips envelope from juror* Well-- that's really beside the point. Decision's been reached.

Max: The decision can't be reached yet! SNI is in the hall!

Sara shudders and glances over her shoulder at the mention of her arch nemesis.

Sara: *growling* SNI...

Oxbow: *hastily tearing open the envelope* Oops, too late! Jury's decision: Sara Raasch, Author, will drop all other stories and focus wholly on completing the STREAM PIRATE sequel. Case closed!

Max: What? That can't be the decision. Case not closed!

Crystal: Yeah! You rigged it! SECURITY!

Oxbow: *trying to sneak off podium* Thank you all for coming here today-- Sara, you will be expected to carry out sentencing in the next few hours-- until then, I must--

Oxbow runs out the judge's door, followed closely by Crystal and Max and most of the jury.

Max: Stop! STOP! You stupid pirate!

Crystal: I didn't even get to wear the wig!

The crowd joins the chaos by erupting into an all-out character fight. STREAM PIRATE characters against all others, everyone screaming about how important THEIR story is and how shiny THEIR dialogue is and oh, look, THEIR settings are SO much more exotic...

Sara stands in the middle of the courtroom. Yazoo, Crystal, and Max are still chasing each other through the judge's quarters to her left while her arch nemesis SNI is still waiting in the hall to her right. Hm.

Decisions, decisions...

An Hour in Sara's Head

2010-07-20T23:14:00.014-04:00

10:00PM:

I made a decision. Go big or go home, right? So that's it. I'm doing it. I'm going to move to ENGLAND after graduation!

10:05PM

*prepares Excel spreadsheet of British cities*

*prepares checklist of things needed to move to UK*

*settles in for a long night of research*

10:15PM

Wow...um...there's a lot of stuff. You need. To move to the UK.

10:20PM

What the hell is a Resident Labour Market Test? Or a shortage occupation list? A TIER TWO WORK VISA?? WHY DO THEY LET DENTISTS AND CHOREOGRAPHERS IN BUT NOT ME??
10:30PM

Maybe if I find an employer...who will put up a job for a month, but not tell anyone about it...so at the end of the month, I'll apply...and the employer will tell the UK border people "Oops, we couldn't find any established Brits to fill this position, so we REALLY need this American Sara girl"...
10:40PM

*whimpers*

10:45PM

What about Scotland?

...

Nope. No, Scotland IS part of the UK. Now they REALLY won't let me in.

10:50PM

$#@!%
10:55PM

I guess...I should...maybe...*sigh*

11:00PM

I made a decision. Go big or go home, right? So that's it. I'm doing it. I'm going to-- I will-- My plan is--

My plan is--

My plan is to marry a British citizen and move over there with him. Yes? Yes.

*prepares Excel spreadsheet of US cities with large British populations*

Take THAT, UK Border patrol. I can be SNEAKY. You and your stupidly tight reign on who you let in your country...leave me stuck in here in America...we'll see who wins in the end. Yeah. WE'LL SEE.

But you know what? We already won ONE war against you guys. Just sayin'.

Damn it. Now they REALLY REALLY won't let me in.

Gotta stop talking.

SOS!!

2010-07-18T21:06:00.003-04:00

I don't even have a ship. Our a soul. Eh, well, maybe I have the last one. Jury's still out.

Anyway, I have a PROBLEM, guys. As some of you know, I graduate into the real world in November by way of college diploma.

o_O

(No, I don't just look for excuses to use the cute little wide-eyed dude facey thing. My life gets hectic and crazy all on its merry little own.)

I, unlike (or perhaps like) most college soon-to-be-graduates, have absolutely no plans for post graduation. None. Zilch. Nada. Goose egg, baby. It's like the end of The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. It just leaves you all gaping-mouthed and hand-waggling, unable to mumble anything else but "Wha-wha-what?!"

When I get all panicky about my future (which, believe me, happens a LOT), I watch Gilmore Girls. Heck, I watch Gilmore Girls when I'm anxious, depressed, lonely, heartbroken, etc etc insert-forlorn-adjective-here. That show always serves to give me a good perspective on what I should do, because minus the whole Ivy League school thing, I am Rori Gilmore. It's creepy, actually. I really should sue the creators of Gilmore Girls for identity theft but, um, I really like Gilmore Girls. So don't worry, Amy Sherman -- you're safe.

This most recent viewing of Gilmore Girls (season 7, in case you were wondering) left me bound and determined to increase my statistical odds of doing something WORTHY after graduation by researching the hell out of various cities. Why cities, you ask, and not jobs? Well, I'm pretty flexible about what I'll be DOING doing. Retail (*shudder*, I know, but it's always an option), secretarial stuffs, or even panhandling. I'm an excellent panhandler. Piracy is always an option too. I've been training for that for years.

So you see, I'm more in need of a definitive locale than a definitive job. This is where the SOS comes in:

Where in the world should I live?

(Okay, that's a bit broad -- I should narrow it:)

Where in the United States should I live?

(Eh, still too broad:)

Where in the continental United States that has very low humidity, mild summers, few mountains, many bookstores, and ample copper-skinned male pirates should I live?

(The last one is negotiable. They can be pale-skinned male pirates too. I'll even *gasp* settle for copper or pale-skinned male ninjas. Though, if you know the color of a ninja's skin, well, you are truly a remarkably sneaky individual.)

Help a poor, lost college student out and leave your city suggestions in the comments. Rori Gilmore and I thank you.

A Letter to Risk

2010-07-17T22:17:00.004-04:00

(No, not this Risk. Though the Middle Earth version of Risk is EPIC hours of fun. Despite the fact that no matter who's playing, the "good guys" always win. I think it's rigged.)

Dear Risk,

Hi.

It's been awhile. Remember me? Red hair, brown eyes, freaky obsessed with pirates? Yeah, that girl. I know we haven't really been on "speaking terms" lately, and I guess it's mostly my fault. No, actually -- it's ENTIRELY my fault. I've kept you at a distance by use of denial and dance-like avoidance maneuvers. I've become very good at avoidance-dancing. I break it down, yo.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry -- jokes aside, I have been dodging you at all costs. So I guess it should come as no surprise, then, that you don't really work in my favor anymore. My life has become mellow and quiet, and I have no one but myself to blame. This began a few years back and progressed up through those proceeding years until I find myself today, here, now, writing this letter to you for all the world to see. I made a lot of decisions that piled up and turned into one big snowball of "safe" decisions. I'm not proud of it. I'm not proud of any of it. I took the easy way out 9.7 times out of 10 and never looked back.

Until now.

Now I see where those snowballed safe decisions have gotten me. A quiet life. A pass-by-and-never-be-noticed life. A life that I really don't want.

So I'm writing to you, Risk, to come to a truce. I promise to put an end to my snowball safe decisions if you promise to start working in my favor. As proof of my commitment to this promise, I quit my job. No promise of another job. No idea what I'm going to do with the next few months (really, years, but who's counting?). Totally and completely jumping into a big bucket of inky-black Risk. I'm serious and I'm eager and I'm hoping you're serious and eager to agree to your end of the promise. Playing it safe and making the "wise" decisions have only gotten me -- here. And here isn't so great anymore. I'd much rather be terrified and happy than safe and mediocre. So I'm taking the first step, making the first move, nudging the first pawn across the chess board.

It's your move, Risk. But know that I'm ready. I have nothing left to lose -- and by that I mean I have nothing left to lose that I know I wouldn't survive losing. These past few years have, at the very least, created in me a sense of strength. I can survive, and I will survive, and it's about damn time I started surviving on my own terms. My decisions now.

Bring it on. Give me risks to take and mountains to climb and horrifically exciting adventures. Get me out of this rut and take me somewhere -- deliciously ambiguous.

Forever Your Girl,
Sara

Decompress

2010-07-14T16:11:00.002-04:00

My way of decompressing between projects is to go through my old Word docs. I'm usually pleasantly surprised by the things I find, and that surprise urges me to get to work on whatever is next in the queue (probably my post-apoc DISCOVERY).

But as I was wandering from doc to doc today, I found a poem I'd forgotten. I wrote in during my slam-poetry kick (that lasted all of about a month), but it's actually pretty decent. So I shall share it with all ya'll while I continue decompressing on this lazy Wednesday afternoon. Cheers.

Second place is the first loser.

But in your eyes, second place feels like first.

In your eyes, second place feels like the ribbon broke on my stomach,

And the crowd cheers my name

Instead of hers.

But the way you say her name echoes with the voices of a thousand cheering fans,

Reminiscent of a time so precious I could never, ever, ever begin to touch it.

Memories so strong and adrenaline-filled and sweat-drenched that I can’t even see their blur as they rush by.

You look at me.

And I don’t care.

Maybe you will say my name like that one day.

Maybe you will lay awake hoping to hear my feet pound towards you,

Hoping to feel my breath beat on your face.

I don’t care that I can see her in your eyes,

That I can feel the years of desiring her on your skin,

And the way you hold me, run your fingers over my goosebumps and soothe away my strain,

I know you touched her even sweeter.

But I don’t care.

Why don’t I care?

I know you talk to her, still.

I know you laugh at what she says, and she laughs at what you say, and the line connects you, connected you, will always connect you.

I nod and smile and wave it off.

Because in your eyes, second place feels like first.

In your eyes, as long as I’m in your eyes,

I can run, and pretend the weight in my stomach is really the weight of the ribbon breaking on me.

Second is all I deserve.

I wasn’t fast enough. Simple as that.

Why don’t I like myself?

Why do I expect to win first place with you when I’m not even first in my own race?

I surrendered myself to a lifetime of dedicated imagining,

Like all I would ever get is pretending that the look on your face was put there by me.

Like I wasn’t worthy to put that look on someone’s face.

Like I could love her out of you.

But I won’t.

I can’t.

I cannot love you enough.

Do I hear me?

I can’t make myself enough!

And this life of falling asleep on dreams,

Of pictures I wish were of me,

Isn’t enough.

Because I deserve to win my own race.

I deserve to feel the ribbon break on me,

To hear someone say my name like the voices of a thousand screaming fans,

To feel him hold me like he’s holding adrenaline in his arms,

And to see only me looking back from his eyes.

150 Followers!!

2010-07-13T23:08:00.002-04:00

You GUYS!

*love taps your shoulder*

I feel all special. And not at all pressured to be clever and cute and inspiring and wise in every blog post like some authors I know.

Even though I'd planned to do some kind of cute and clever and inspiring post on motivation and persistence, I can't. Because I found someone who does it better than I ever could. So I'll let her show you how to keep the inspiration up while I go apply to more jobs.

No Rant Part Trois. Sorry.

2010-07-12T23:30:00.002-04:00

Unless you want yet another extended rant about the sheer idiocy that accompanies a job in retail. Which I would be more than happy to provide, but I fear if I share more disheartening retail stories I will single-handedly begin a retail revolt. I also fear that if I rant more at all I shall explode in rants too violent for Blogger -- thus I am left with one option.

Extreme bouts of happy things.

Happy thing #1:

(If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you've seen me post linkage to this. WATCH IT. You will love it. Promise.)

Happy thing #2:

Tomorrow I will put a teal streak in my hair. Yes. TEAL. *squeals with anticipation*

Happy thing #3:

I will THROW LAPTOP at Big Red Desk if it DOES NOT STOP FREEZING UP ON ME. Not Big Red Desk. Laptop.

THERE IT GOES AGAIN. ARGH.

That wasn't a happy thing. Sorry. I'm going to post this post quick before Laptop decides to--

*freezes*

Caution: Rant Part Deux

2010-07-11T21:21:00.003-04:00

I'm full of rants lately. You've been warned again.

Apparently I'm doing some advice-I-hate series, because I have yet another bit o' wisdom that makes me go OHMYGOSH WHY?? This one comes from quite a few sources, and quite frequently. It gets me more and more infuriated with each reiteration, until, well, angry blog posts happen. Said piece of advice:

"You're young. Don't worry so much about it. You've got plenty of time. "

Again, there is a *tiny* glimmer of good advice in here, and it's that *tiny* glimmer that I think is the intended bit of advice the advice-givers give. That *tiny* glimmer is that we shouldn't put so much pressure on ourselves to get something NOWNOWNOW. Which is an admirable piece of advice to be sure.

But.

There's always a but.

I'll be 21 in August. When I tell people I have an agent and have written novels (the plural always gets 'em), they get this "Wow!" look that makes me a little...uneasy. Like because of my age, they didn't expect as much out of me.

If I had listened to their advice and "not worried so much" about getting an agent or getting published, I wouldn't have the world's most AMAZING agent and wouldn't have nearly the experience/growth I have as a writer. I'd be far less mature and far less driven, and would be nowhere near as close to achieving my publishing goals as I am.

It was hard. REALLY hard. And a lot of it sucked. But do I regret any of it? Do I feel like in focusing on a writing career instead of "being a teenager" that I was cheated out of anything? HELL NO. What did I miss? Honestly, I can't think of one high school/teenage experience that I would go back and add to my life.

And now, being almost 21, I have the same advice given to me about (you guessed it) BOYS. Relationships. *gasp* MARRIAGE. Even though I'd say about 70% of my friends are engaged and/or in serious relationships, I get told to "slow down" and "not worry about it" because I'm young and have my entire life to get married. True. But telling me this, giving me this advice, doesn't stop the fact that I still WANT things. Telling me not to worry so much about my writing career didn't kill my dream to be published. It just...actually, it didn't affect me at all. I kept right on going at the pace I was going. I'm a great listener.

I feel like this piece of advice is offering me a cop-out. A way to shrug off the responsibility of being mature and say "Eh, I'm young. I don't have to worry about "adult" things. I'll just sit here and mooch off people and take it easy. After all, I have my WHOLE LIFE to do stuff."

When does one become "old enough" to worry about things, exactly? When I'm 25? Is that when I should start seriously worrying about why I have no marriage prospects or why my book isn't getting picked up or why I have no job options? Or maybe 30? 35? What is the cut-off age for being "young enough" to not worry about things? Or will me not worrying about things suddenly become "irresponsible" one day, and all this advice about not worrying will suddenly turn into angry shouts of how "lazy" I am?

Or maybe I could just keep on living how I am living and wanting what I want. Because even though I am young, I still know what I want. I still know I want my book published. I still know I want to get married. And just because I'm young and I have "plenty of time" doesn't mean I'm going to stop seeking these things. I'm not going to give up on them until a more "opportune" time in my life. I don't think such times exist. Waiting for the stars to align and the moon to glow just right and the seasons to cooperate and I'm emotionally stable and financially secure and oh, yeah, I have a nice house, too -- it's like waiting for rain in a desert. Possible, but not probable.

So while I appreciate the advice, I can't take it. Taking it would mean to stop fighting for what I want. And I can't stop fighting.

Caution: Rant Ahead

2010-07-09T21:54:00.003-04:00

You've been warned.

Today, one of my friends got a really infuriating piece of advice regarding male-folk, relationship-type situations. It went something like this:

"You should just accept that chivalry is dead and go after what you want. You shouldn't wait on him, because he's not going to come after you."

%$#@%!

This piece of advice came from, shocker, a male-type person. Now, in all fairness, there is one *tiny* glimmer of a good piece of advice in there -- that we should be go-getters and doers and not just stand around picking our fingernails. Empowerment! I am Woman, Hear me Arrrrgh! Or something.

(Hey, if I'm going to chant anything, it's going to be ARRRRGH, like a pirate. Not RAWWWR. RAWWWR isn't fear-inducing. Psh.)

BUT.

Now here's where my rant comes in.

I've noticed a pattern in the menfolk I and my female counterparts interact with. There seems to be an epidemic of sorts. An epidemic of faultlessness. Example:

Girl and Boy start texting. (Because, really, how else does one have a relationship nowadays? Wait -- people still TALK? On their PHONES? I didn't know my phone could do that...)

Girl and Boy text for quite awhile. Say, a few months.

Boy tells Girl, quite frequently, that he does not want a girlfriend and is happy single. Girl continues texting him anyway.

Boy also, quite frequently, tells Girl how amazing/beautiful/wonderful/smart she is. Many compliments are heaped upon her, and even a few I've-never-met-anyone-like-you's.

Girl starts falling for Boy.

Boy continues to tell Girl all kinds of compliments.

Girl eventually comes to a very maddening resolution wherein Boy either 1) ends communication rather abruptly or 2) Girl "makes a move" on Boy and Boy refuses her. Here is where Boy claims faultlessness. His defense:

"I told you I didn't want a relationship from the start. YOU'RE the one who got it in your mind that I wanted more. I told you I didn't want anything."

In essence, "This is your fault. I'm not at fault in this. You can't be angry with me, because I told you well ahead of time. You only have yourself to blame."

Boy gets away with the whole "getting the milk for free" thing while Girl gets left with a hollow mix of "Well, he DID tell me..." and "But he said I was beautiful! He said he'd never met anyone like me! He talked to me for HOURS!"

Which brings me back to the previous piece of infuriating advice. My response to said piece of advice was a huge, resounding "COP-OUT!"

Much of the actions of my friends' boyfriends and male acquaintances and male dating buddies center around this need to be faultless. Some deep, gnawing fear of being RESPONSIBLE for something, whether that something be Girl's heart or their own future. These menfolk, for whatever reason, seem to be driven solely by this horrific repulsion to being held accountable for their actions. They'd rather have their decisions made for them or find a way to pin it all on us, the womenfolk.

Previous infuriating piece of advice translated: "Your standards are too high. You expect too much out of us. YOU need to be the one to change. Not us."

Why should WE be the ones to change our mindsets? Why should WE be the ones to relinquish our chivalry dreams? Why should we settle for responsibility-fearing blob-boys who leach decisions out of us like they're still five-year-old's and we're their mothers? Mayda Del Valle said it best. We are NOT your mothers. And I don't want some dependent, indecisive, scared little child as my partner. I don't want a slave -- I want a BOYFRIEND. I want a CHAMPION.

To which the rebuttal is often: "Men aren't perfect!"

I KNOW. Good god almighty, do I EVER know. I don't want perfect. I've had perfect, and it really isn't all it's cracked up to be. Mostly an ego so big there's hardly room for it, him, and me in the same bed.

I'm not asking for perfect. I'm asking for decisive. I'm asking for strength and loyalty. I'm asking for an independent co-existence, a mutual decision to be together yet know that neither person is entirely dependent on the other.

If I can be these things -- strong, decisive, loyal -- as the lack of such things in my male counterparts has forced me to be, then I KNOW it is possible for these same male counterparts to step up. It is not too much to ask. And I will not feel ashamed or "overstepping my bounds" for asking it. I want my chivalry back.

And I will wait for a man to come along who can give me the truth of how much he can really love me.

No Time.

2010-07-08T12:52:00.002-04:00

No time for a full blog post. Too busy making something SHINY and AWESOME and SO GLORIOUS for Kiersten White's final ARC giveaway.

So go read this post by Natalie Whipple. It explains it better than I have time to.

*revs chain saw*

*opens paint cans*

*lays out blue prints*

*gets to work*

Next In Line: DISCOVERY

2010-07-07T12:18:00.010-04:00

Hey, this is my 260th blog post! *dances*

I have a Summer To-Do List on the dry-erase board beside my desk. It looks like this.

You'll notice (if you can read my horrific handwriting) that I only have two things left on my to-do list. For being really productive so far this summer, I don't feel like I've gotten ANYTHING done.

But of those two things, the next one I plan on tackling is starting/finishing DISCOVERY, my YA post-apoc. ("Signing up for Karate" has been on my Life To-Do List for the past two years. Don't hold your breath.) To get myself in the proper mindset for weaving a depressing-yet-hopeful the-world-has-ended-and-we're-ALL-going-to-DIE plot, I thought I'd create another visual inspiration, or WIP in pics.

Behold, DISCOVERY in pictures.

(And yes, I do find it quite humorous that the people I see in my head as the two main characters in DISCOVERY are both in the TV show Merlin.)

Things I Can't Say in Retail, A PSA

2010-07-05T23:26:00.005-04:00

I have to be NICE.

My job requires a certain degree of "customer service," which does not entail inaudible, frantic screams directed at particularly mind-blowing customers. But since most of you (*shifty eyes*) don't know where I work, I shall unload the things I keep bottled up inside all day in hope that you read this and take pity on the next poor, unsuspecting retail employee you stumble across.

#1) Don't pick on us. You KNOW, by our company's policies, (hell, by EVERY retail store's policies EVERYWHERE) that we are NOT ALLOWED to fight back. Picking on us, being mean to us, getting angry with us, or yelling at us are just cowardly reactions to problems that are NOT OUR FAULT (see next #). It's like picking a fight with a tree and calling it a "glorified twig." The poor tree can't fight back! What'd it ever do to you? Go pick on someone who at least has the freedom to stand up for themselves. All we can do is smile and nod and count to ten over and over and over again. And then say really mean things about you when you leave. Because we do. Do you really want to be THAT guy? No, I didn't think so.

#2) MOST OF THE PROBLEMS YOU ENCOUNTER ARE NOT OUR FAULT. Let me say it again. MOST OF THE PROBLEMS YOU ENCOUNTER ARE NOT OUR FAULT. That sweater you had us special order for you from another store that didn't arrive yet because the %$#@ idiots at the other store put it on the truck instead of in the mail? NOT OUR FAULT (granted, it is the fault of the %$#@ idiots at the OTHER store, but not the %$#@ idiots at this store). Those shoes that have been marked down three times because we've had them for two years but don't have your size anymore and can't order more because they were discontinued a year ago? NOT OUR FAULT. Those crazy popular shoes you waited until the last minute to get only to find out we only have a size 4.5 left and you need a 2? NOT OUR FAULT. Yelling at us, getting snippy with us, or otherwise treating us like slaves will not magically make these items appear. So chill.

#3) Contrary to popular belief, we, as retail employees, are NOT out to single-handedly prevent you from acquiring the items you want. This is not a war.

#4) We are NOT babysitters. I repeat: NOT BABYSITTERS. Again, just because you KNOW we are required to be stupidly nice and not yell at your children does not give you the right to dump them in our store and wander blindly whilst they tear all the balls out of the ball pit, strip the mannequins, and wail on the punching bag display. I understand your children are quite energetic and getting them to SIT DOWN while you shop is very, very strenuous, but hey, you are the one who decided to reproduce. You deal with the consequences.

#5) Contrary to popular belief, we, as retail employees, have better things to do than shop for you. If you call our store to see if we have ONE item in stock, that's fine. But if you call to see if we have FIVE OR MORE items in stock and if we could set them out for you and maybe put your name on them so no one else buys them and okay, thanks, I'll be in sometime next year to pick them up? Unless you're willing to slip us an extra $50 for our time, get off your tush and come shop for yourself.

#6) We do not control the prices. Of ANYTHING. Especially in corporate-owned stores. Arguing with us, trying to haggle, or threatening to "talk to the manager" will not make the $79 shoes $69. Nor will telling us that we need to lower our prices because we just lost a sale. Consider us the messengers, bud -- don't shoot the messengers. We are merely the angelic apparitions sent from the big bad vendors to inform you of THEIR pricing decisions. If you want to blame someone, blame Nike.

#7) I like people. Really, I do. A lot of the people I've encountered in my retail stint have been very enjoyable individuals who have happy, polite, controlled children and who can have calm, rational "Oh-you-don't-have-this-in-a-large?-That's-okay-don't-worry-about-it," conversations without resorting to obnoxious eye-rolls or swearing. I like these people very much. These people brighten my otherwise cloudy day. These people are also the ones who see the unruly customers and give me those "I am SO SORRY" looks that make me giggle. You don't want to be on the other side of this exchange, folks. It's much more fun to be the giggler or the look-giver than the person who makes the other customers feel uncomfortable. Trust me.

*exhales*

This all rose from something completely unrelated to my job, actually. I was at a restaurant the other day with a friend, waiting to check out, when an older gentleman (not sure what he wanted) started yelling at the cashier and telling him he couldn't do his job. The gentleman proceeded to tell everyone he encountered on the way out of the restaurant that the cashier couldn't do his "damn job." This really irritated me. As someone who has far too many years of experience in customer service, I find it incredibly cowardly when someone loses their temper on us. There is never any reason to be that vocal or just plain mean with someone (as I said above) who cannot, under penalty of being fired, fight back at all. If it is truly an issue, contact the manager. Do not publicly berate the employee (especially when he is a terrified, prepubescent teenager). That will not solve the problem.

So here's a stupidly long blog post just to say: tell a retail/customer service employee they did a good job. Here's to a group who has been stomped on for too long -- hooray, customer service employees! Hooray!

OMGOSH WINNER

2010-07-03T23:44:00.005-04:00

Ignore my laundry hanging in the background. Though now that I've drawn your attention to it...

(sorry, the quality sucks a little bit)

(how many times do I put my finger up? Guesses?)

CONGRATS to our winners!! I'll be sending emails alerting them if they don't see this video and completely freak out in the comments section. If they do see the video though, some instructions for them:

1) Send an email to seesarawrite (at) gmail (dot) com with your mailing address, or wherever you'd like me to send your book.

2) Dance it out, yo.

To everyone: have an AMAZING Independence Day! Or, er, by "everyone" I mean everyone who lives in the US. To my international lovelies: have a GREAT Sunday!

Psst...

2010-07-02T22:46:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow is the last day to enter my fantabulous book giveaway! Believe me, you WANT these books.

Also, I spent the evening matching songs to each chapter of WHITE LIKE ASHES, so every chapter now has a "theme song" that fits the mood of it. Or at least, that's what I was going for.

Of course I'm going to share the playlist with you, even though most of you have no idea why these songs would fit with the twenty-two chapters in WLA (yes, I'm aware there's only twenty-one songs -- I used one twice. I cheat). But I figure you can still appreciate some AMAZING songs, such as Estasi Dell Anima by David Sardy (an instrumental from Zombieland) or Set the Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol. WLA aside, it's a pretty solid list of amazing tunes. And maybe they'll inspire you as they inspired me. Passing on the inspiration.

Enjoy, bloggers. Enjoy.

Overheard in Retail #582

2010-07-01T23:29:00.003-04:00

There are these mannequins where I work. Only, unlike the one pictured above, these don't have heads or whole legs. They're short, stubby, decapitated dudes with the bodies of Greek gods. Hey, they gotta have something going for them.

Today, a brother and sister pair, no more than 8 years old, stood staring at one of the headless, mostly-limbless dudes. The brother turned to his big sis and, totally serious, asked, "When you grow up, are you going to marry a guy who looks like this?"

To which she nodded. "I'll try."

Amen, sister. All little girls aspire to find a nice headless, legless, crazy-ripped man to marry. That way he can't talk back and can't run away, and he still looks darn amazing.

Girl power, baby.

Fortunes

2010-06-30T15:57:00.002-04:00

I just ate enough Chinese food for a family of three. No, seriously. The Chinese food guy stuck multiple fortune cookies in my bag. Like he just ASSUMED ordering a large sesame chicken, 9 steamed dumplings, crab rangoon, and a pint of fried rice would be a FAMILY meal, not an INDIVIDUAL meal.

I'm hurt by his lack of faith in my gorging abilities.

Anyhoo, whilst I was eating all that gelatinous, fried, steamed goodness, it got me thinking. Of all the fortune cookies I opened (and believe me, there were quite a few), none of the fortunes were at all helpful. I think one of them said something about having integrity or shining like the stars or something that was surely inspiring, as you can see by my vivid memory of it. And that got me thinking about fortunes in general, and the future, and how we, as mere mortals, are constantly trying to figure stuff out.

That's why I love dystopian/post-apocalyptic. Reading it and writing it. I love seeing what other people think could happen, and how they get to those conclusions. Sometimes they're frighteningly oh-my-god-that-SO-COULD-HAPPEN, and sometimes they're more wow-I-hope-that-really-DOES-happen-cuz-even-though-it's-stupidly-dangerous-it'd-be-downright-SWEET. (okay, that last link was more alternate-history/steampunk than dyst/post-apoc, but you get my point.) And, in some weird way, I like being "prepared." I like reading these books and thinking "Okay, now I know how to survive if everyone gets turned into zombies and I get stuck in a psycho-religious fenced-in cult," or "Okay, now I know what to do to avoid really, really pissing off the powers-that-be if my society goes apeshit-crazy and starts restructuring everyone's bodies when they hit 16," or "Okay, now I know how to deal with a society that freaks out about sex-choice and other crazy things" (agency-sister love! Yay Julia!). Call me crazy, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

There really was no point to this post other than to give some love to the dyst/post-apoc genre. Just finished my first dyst (WHITE LIKE ASHES) and I have two more in the works. Me thinks this might be my new favorite genre of choice. Fortunes are FASCINATING, and I love that it's still possible. Fantasy is all well and good, but I love that one day the worlds we imagine in dyst/post-apoc could BE our world. That is beyond cool to me.

God, I love Chinese food.

Contest: Spread the Support!

2010-06-28T23:27:00.007-04:00

*punches shoulder*

*but it was really just a love tap*

You GUYS! You're all so nice and stuff. Reading your comments from yesterday makes me feel all fuzzy and warm and special and stuff. It's all so magical. And stuff.

Speaking of stuff: there are SO MANY awesome book giveaways going on right now that I think my bookshelf may explode.

Click here

or here

oh and this one is pretty too

Did I miss one? Probably.

This is one trend I gotta hop on board. All these fantabulous book giveaways + my fantabulous blog readers = fantabulous inspiration to have my own fantabulous book giveaway.

And when I say fantabulous, I mean FANTABULOUS.

In honor of all ya'll being so uber supportive of me in my time of low rough draft esteem, my giveaway will be support-themed. Thus, I will be giving away these lovely books:

THE TENSION OF OPPOSITES by Kristina McBride (who, if you remember, stomps around my stomping ground)

and SISTERS RED by Jackson Pearce

Books written by fastly-becoming-insanely-popular authors. Yay for supporting amazing authors!

There will be two winners, one for each book. To win:

+1 New Follower
+2 Old Follower
+2 Tweet (put @seesarawrite in the Tweet to make it tweet-trackable)
+3 Blog post
+1 Putting a funny/inspirational quote in your comment

Tally your points in the comments section. Each point gives you an entry, and two lucky, randomly drawn people will win the fantabulous prizes! Deadline: July 3rd. Winner will be announced on the 4th, in true holiday-celebration style. There'll be fireworks. Promise.

PS: Don't forget to include an email where I can contact you should you be one of the lucky two.

PPS: Open to international applicants too! Hi, international readers! *waves*

OMG hides

2010-06-27T22:55:00.002-04:00

I just finished WLA.

Okay, that's a lie. I FINISHED WLA a few days ago, let it sit, and finished EDITING it tonight. Like 10 minutes ago. And the first thing I did was drop everything and rush to tell all of you about it. Feel special? You should.

Actually, the first thing I did was send it to betas. So you're really the second people I've told. Please don't feel less special.

The only real point of this blog post is to rave about how TERRIFIED I am. I'm checking my email like crazy even though I just sent it to betas like 9 minutes ago.

I HAVEN'T SENT FOR BETA REACTIONS ON A COMPLETED MANUSCRIPT IN MORE THAN A YEAR.

AND I AM SCARED.

*gulp*

What if they don't like it? What if my characters SUCK? What if there's a HUGE plot hole that I missed and they laugh and I blush and have to change my name and hide under my desk for a few days until the blushing goes away and I can finally reemerge but by that time I will have lost my job which in hindsight wouldn't be a bad thing and I DISINTEGRATE??

*pants*

Yeah. I KNOW. Scary in my head, isn't it?

In all honesty, though, my beta ladies are the amazingest, bestest beta ladies on the planet and will be very nice in their mercilessness. Seriously. You should be jealous of the awesome array of passionate, supportive, SUPER SMART and oh so pretty beta ladies I have. I'm jealous of me.

But that doesn't stop me from biting my nails until there's nothing left and crying a little bit. I just bought three books today. Maybe I'll read them to distract myself. But reading them will remind me of how AWESOME authors like Jackson Pearce and Ally Carter are and how I WHITHER IN COMPARISON.

Nah. I just used the phrase "whither in comparison." So I gotta be something of a decent writer, right?

Dream

2010-06-27T10:22:00.003-04:00

Ya'll are FUNNY.

Reading your answers to the Q&A made my week so much brighter. Me thinks I may have to do a Q&A on a regular basis...*ponders*

Anyway, though -- I really loved getting to know all ya'll better, old readers and new. There's a lot of burgeoning talent out there ($10 word FTW!), and I can't wait to see where everyone's careers take them.

A lot of life events lately have served to remind me of how important big words like ASPIRATIONS and GOALS are (okay, the last one wasn't really a big word, but you get my point). I think I kind of take them for granted some times. I tend to assume that having drive and dreams are common things, what with all the awesome people I know who are also driven and dream-oriented.

Reality sets me right real quick, though. There are a lot of people in this world who WANT things, but don't do anything to make those wants become real. I've found myself surrounded by a lot of them lately, and let me tell ya, it's so DRAINING. Hearing these people talk about things they'd like to do but then just assuming they'll never do it, watching them WANT things but then not even trying to attain them, is one of the most infuriating things in the world. I want to shake them and scream at them and force them to achieve SOMETHING (and I have on, occasion. At least the screaming part), but that never really works. Aspiring and achieving goals is something that must be taught/earned on one's own. Like walking. You gotta fall on your own butt a few times before you really grasp the whole "walking" concept.

No matter how draining/infuriating/SAD it is being around these people, I always come away with slightly more drive to BE something. If not for me, then for them. To kind of prove that AMAZING things are possible. And even if me achieving something great doesn't phase them in the least, at least I'll have risen above their negativity and nothingness. At least I'll be able to look on my life and reminisce about the present I've made, not the past I left behind.

Q&A 4 U

2010-06-24T10:56:00.002-04:00

So, I have a lot more blog readers than before. And by before, I mean that-time-when-I-actually-blogged-on-a-regular-basis-instead-of-letting-my-"real"-life-have-more-say-in-my-writing-life-than-it-should-have. Yeah, that time.

Conclusion: I don't know who most of you are. And I want to.

Thus, I have a reverse Q&A round for all ya'll beautiful people. Even you lurkers out there -- I see you, hiding in the back. Don't think I don't know you're there, TOP SECRET GOVERNMENT AGENCY WHO FOUND MY BLOG TWO DAYS AGO, THE SAME DAY I HAPPENED TO FINISH WLA, WHICH JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE A NOVEL ABOUT A GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY.

(No, I'm totally not making that up. SiteMeter doesn't lie.)

(No, I'm totally not crazy. All the time.)

Anyhoo. My questionnaire for you folks, old and new:

1) Name/blog/website

2) Writing genre of choice

3) Reading genre of choice

4) Fictional Male and/or Female character you would totally marry

5) Candle scent of choice

6) Peanut butter or chocolate?

7) Accord or Civic? (No, I'm not currently car shopping because my car TRIED TO KILL ME. Why would you ask?) (That last one doesn't count as a questionnaire question.)

8) So there's a mutant army of radioactive mallards with their bills set on attacking your city. You are in a well-fortified grocery store (of your choice), armed with cannons from a nearby Civil War reenactment camp, a freshly delivered shipment of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, and an inordinate amount of neon-yellow nail polish. How do you hold off the impending attack and save humanity?

I am so looking forward to your answers to these. You have no idea.

For now, I shall leave you to mull over humanity's fate at the hands (er, wings) of mutant mallards while I complaincomplaincomplain about my severe lack of interview-appropriate clothes. Guess this means I just have to go shopping. You know how much I hate shopping.

This counts as interview-appropriate, right?

drum roll Universe Deal

2010-06-23T00:03:00.003-04:00

Thanks for all the great (and frightening) UNIVERSE DEAL ideas! They really got my deal-making juices a-flowing. And, after much deliberation and nail-biting and mulling over, I have settled on a UNIVERSE DEAL.

Jade came up with the most shudder-inducing DEAL idea (no clue why I feel the need to capitalize UNIVERSE DEAL every time I type it. It's just THAT IMPORTANT, I guess. UNIVERSE, I MEAN BUSINESS):

"You could act for a pirate for the day, clothes, arghhhs and all. But. You'd have to leave the house and associate with people. And. You couldn't start every interaction with "I'm doing this because I got a book deal." You'd need to channel the pirate."

Right? That sounds like a DEAL that would guarantee the Universe to come through on its end. But I don't think I have the resolve/commitment/confidence/ability-to-ignore-quizzical-expressions that would be necessary to be a pirate for an entire day. That, and I work a lot, and piratic apparel/slang is not something the company would approve of. (I know -- why am I working for a company that doesn't approve of piratic apparel/slang? The sacrifices we make...)

So, I have a compromise.

My UNIVERSE DEAL, now and forevermore:

I, Sara Raasch, blogger, writer, and dreamer extraordinaire, do so solemnly swear that if the UNIVERSE comes through and gets me a book deal, I will get my ears re-pierced.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

LAME.

But let me explain a few things.

1) I got my ears pierced when I was...13? ish? And I never, ever, ever remembered to wear earrings, and they grew over, and I wasn't the least bit saddened by this. I'm not a huge jewelry person. It didn't break my heart.

2) I have a phobia of needles (says the girl with two tattoos...). No, seriously -- when my sister got her ears pierced, I had to leave the store. When I get IVs, I go into trance-coma-mode and can't speak/move/acknowledge-anyone's-existence until the damn TUBE is out of my VEIN. *shudder*

3) I really, really, REALLY dislike having to do things that aren't extremely necessary and/or things I want to do. I'm very low-maintenance. Thus, earrings and ear-piercing upkeep would be something quite annoying for me to deal with.

Thus, getting my ears re-pierced would be a huge sacrifice for me, both physically and time-consumingly.

Okay, well, not a HUGE sacrifice. But lets face it -- the Universe getting me a book deal wouldn't be a HUGE sacrifice either. Not like ending poverty or anything.

Does that sound like a DEAL, Universe? Let's shake on it.

*shakes*

All right. I feel good about this.

In other news: Hey, I finished another ms today. No big deal or anything.

*throws confetti*

In case you haven't been keeping track (lord knows my obsessive-compulsive inability to let things go has been keeping track enough for the both of us...), this is the first novel I've finished since Stream Pirate, back in 2009. 2009! And not even late 2009 -- I finished Stream Pirate last last winter-ish. It's been around a year since I had the warm, ethereal glow of completing a new and totally god-awful manuscript.

But you know what? I'm in love with it, suckiness and all. We'll see how long that love lasts when I sit down for a read-through later this week.

Excuse me while I rejoice in my productivity and let the Universe mull over this DEAL. You know you want to see the heart-wrenching agony I'll go through in getting my ears pierced, Universe. You know you want to.

3-0-k

2010-06-21T21:49:00.003-04:00

Who reached the 30,000 word mark on her WIP?

*points to self*

Yuuup. This chick.

*dances*

Since my back hurts from sitting all day writing, writing, writing, I'm going to make this post quick and painless and full of LINKY LOVE.

Firstly, all those lurvely people who did the Visual Inspiration/WIP in Pics posts:

Natalie Whipple
Steph Bowe
Lila Swan
Kaity Hall

Pretty, isn't it? Sigh, so much ART. Love it!

Nextly, a thought-provoking post by my SUPER AGENT Kate aka Daphne Unfeasible! I always feared having Plot Armor in my novels, but I never had a word/phrase for it. Now there is one!

Thirdly and finally: WHY DO I LIKE THESE VIDEOS SO MUCH??

I swear I could spend the ENTIRE DAY doing nothing but watching Non/Disney Crossover YouTube Vids. They're like eye crack.

I Give: Deal with the Universe

2010-06-20T23:13:00.002-04:00

*hands up* *white flag* *sounds retreat bugle*

I give, okay? You hear that, universe? I GIVE.

I've witnessed a lot of people make deals with the universe (I'd find the links to other bloggers' posts, but it's late and I'm tired and I worked ALL WEEKEND and it's hot here and I cut my arm today. Wahhhh. Hey, I said I surrendered, not grew up). And it seems to be a pretty effective way of acquiring impressive things. So, I'm going to do it. I'm going to make a UNIVERSE DEAL regarding a BOOK DEAL.

*drum roll*

Um. Yeah. About that deal...I was hoping, you know, since my blog readers are the PRETTIEST BLOG READERS EVER *strokes blog readers* they could, maybe, you know, come up with some snazzy UNIVERSE DEAL ideas for me? Nothing is off limits. I've already gotten tattoos, so even permanently inking myself is on the table. GO CRAZY, folks, and leave your ideas in the comments.

PS: Also, leave me some linkage on yesterday's blog post if you did a WIP in Pics or a Visual Inspiration post so I can compile them into one big, pretty linkable post.

PPS: Mozilla Firefox recognized "linkage" as a word. Question mark?

PPPS: I forgot how HAPPY writing on a regular basis makes me. Gosh.

WIP in Pics

2010-06-19T23:35:00.006-04:00

The lovely and adorable and oh-my-goodness talented Steph Bowe inspired me. Every so often, she posts Visual Inspiration pictures, snapshots she's found that create a hodgepodge (I love that word) of goodness about whatever book she's currently working on.

I've decided to mimic her by creating WIP in Pics. You can do it, too; just hop over to Tumblr, Flickr, or We Heart It, gather some pics that inspire you or relate to your WIP, and plop them in a blog post. You don't need to explain why you chose the pics or give away any plot details. It's more an unspoken inspiration collage for your own creative juices. If you do want to join the WIP in Pics fun, drop the link to your post in the comments and I'll compile them in another post so everyone can easily hop from inspiration collage to inspiration collage. Yay, art!

Without further ado, here's my WIP in Pics for WHITE LIKE ASHES.