A's Part Dos

I knew there was something I'd forgotten last post. I blame it on the holiday frazzleness.

The lovely Shannon Messenger and Frankie Mallis both gifted me with blog awards! Good heavens, all this love is going to go straight to my head. I might start thinking people like me or something. You all know how that goes. First the delusions of grandeur, then the delusion-inspired plots of world domination. I'm thinking of starting in Ireland, working my way south, then turning the entire world into a pirate-themed amusement park. All in favor say ARGH!

But seriously, thanks, Shannon and Frankie. Awards make me happy :)

On with the rest of the A's to your Q's!

From KM Walton: Who would be your ideal guy & why?
There are a number of ways I could answer this question. I will choose the most writerly by describing my ideal guy in terms of literary characters. So, my ideal guy would have Kartik's loyalty (Gemma Doyle Trilogy), Sam's romance (Shiver), Nate's sweetness (Eyes Like Stars), Oscar's selflessness (Candor), and Justin's devotion (Dark Moon Defender -- I know most people haven't heard of this book, as it's fantasy not YA, but you should read it. The entire series, actually. A.Maz.Ing). Also, I have been going through a romance song obsession, so my ideal guy would also see the world like this and this. Everyone together now: awww.

From Natalie: Why are you so awesome?

I have one more chromosome than most people. They call it the awesome chromosome. There is no cure.

Also, what's the funniest thing that's ever happened to you?

Oh gosh. I am absolutely horrible at remembering specific instances when people ask questions like this. I'm sure I'll come up with something in a few days, but right now my mind is blank. I can tell you a joke though. Jokes are funny.

Q: What's black and white and black and white and black and white?
A: A penguin rolling down a hill.

Q: What's black and white and laughing?
A: The penguin that pushed him.

Let that joke sink in. I laughed for a good five minutes.

From Candice: Why are Columbus and Cincinnati awesome and Dayton... well Dayton is just sort of not awesome. Am I missing something here as a new Dayton resident?

Firstly, you're in Dayton now? Yay! Another easternly writer person! I foresee a get-together in our future. But you're right. Dayton is sort of not awesome. Though, since the city I live in is the epitomy of OHMYGODBORING, Dayton often seems far more awesome to me than it is. But when compared with Cincy or C-bus, it is very dull. It has a Barnes and Noble though! And Tropical Smoothie! Tropical Smoothie alone is reason to love Dayton. I swear they put crack in their smoothies. Addictive.

From VS: Why pirates?

There's something about the age of pirates that's very poetic to me. They were some of the last real explorers. In their time, the world was all but discovered; the "blank edges of the map" were all but filled in (just watched POTC 2. Sorry). They clung to the last bit of magic the world had in defying the "discovered" world and pursuing the undiscovered, the parts of the world that people still did not want to traverse. I'm a big advocate of clinging to magic. Too often does it get squished in the name of advancement.

From Adam: This question has been bothering me since I was little. Maybe you can help. Whose bright idea was it to put "Kansas" right next to "Arkansas" and then pronounce the two completely differently? (note to readers: I'm aware they are not strictly "right next" to each other, but as a child growing up in California, they might as well have been)

Dude. I never realized that! Wow. You're totally right though; that is horrifically annoying. Gotta love the English language, eh?

From Mariah: Have you ever seen the old show WKRP Chicago? There's a guy on there (Travis) that look's like that he could be Phillip Winchester's father. And there is feathered hair.

I have not seen that show, but I have now spent a good half hour googling it. Anyone who looks like Philip Winchester is good in my book.

From Shannon: Did you know that Jake Gyllenhaal was Billy Crystal's son in City Slickers, and can you believe such incredible hotness came from such a geeky looking kid?

I did realize that! It was on TV awhile ago and seeing little Jakey made me chuckle. How does that happen, exactly? All these dorky little kids grow up to melt movie screens. Not that I'm complaining. If being a dorky little kid helps them be hot, by all means, may they continue to be dorky.

A's Part Uno

Happy Beginning of the Holiday Season, everyone! In celebration, I bring you the answers to the first half of the super awesome questions ya'll left on Tuesday.

From Cat Clarke: Would you rather have squirrels for hands or muffins for feet?

Well, I'm very certain that I could live without feet, but no hands? Not being able to type or write or pick up a book? Couldn't do it. Muffins for feet, thank you.

From Dara at inthewritemind: I must be a scrooge since I cannot stand to hear Christmas music BEFORE Thanksgiving...wondering--how do you feel about it? :P

I'm kind of indifferent about it actually. At my work, we decorated for Christmas last Saturday. I love decorating for Christmas and listening to Christmas music, so it only slightly perturbed me that it was before Thanksgiving. What did perturb me was that on the DAY of Halloween, I went into Walmart to get an eye patch, and all of the Halloween stuff had been replaced by Christmas stuff. ON Halloween. That was too much.

From L&L: Will you always stay in Ohio or do you think you'll move around once you've graduated?

I used to think I'd move around, but now I'm not so sure. My future is kind of up in the air, and I'm open to whatever happens. I do know that I will move out of the city I live in now, though. No way could I ever live here forever. It kills your soul.

From Valerie: When are you going to see New Moon?

I already saw it! Last Sunday, actually. It was surprisingly better than Twilight, and had plenty of steamy Jacob scenes to satisfy me. Though I must say, I do think I'm semi-Team Mike.

From Jade: Why did you switch majors? Seriously? Now I'm alone in the Lara Croft/J.K Rowling box.

I...don't know. I've always loved history, and that was originally why I got into archaeology. But the archaeology in this area isn't the kind of history I'm interested in, thus I switched to straight-up history. I promise this will be my last major switch. Promise.

Serious questions...hmmm...oh, queries! Since you have a cool agent, one assumes that you wrote an epically awesome query letter. I'm just wondering if you did it by yourself or did you post it online somewhere to be shredded?

I'm pretty sure I posted my query on the AW forums (that was a year ago, though, and my brain's a little fuzzy). I know I sent it to friends and such to be ripped apart. Query-writing was always one of the most difficult things for me to do, until I found out that it works so much better if I write the query-summary BEFORE I start writing the book. That way I don't have all those pesky subplots clouding the main story thread in my mind.

Have you read 'The Dust of 100 Dogs' by A.S. King?

I did read it. AS King has an AMAZING voice and writing style and imagination (and hello? Pirates!). But what I loved most oddly enough wasn't even in the book. Someone actually got a tattoo based on D100D. That seems like a huge gesture of appreciation/awesomeness to me. And the tattoo looks freaking cool too.

From Hayley: How do you know which ideas to use? And if the characters are in a situation you are completely unfamiliar with, how do you figure out how they'd react? Research only goes so far.

I use whichever idea speaks the loudest. For instance, I have both Max's story and Crystal's story in my head. I love both of them, but Max, for whatever reason, appealed more. I think it just comes down to whatever character wants his/her story told the most. I will get to Crystal eventually, though; she's quite loud too.

As for unfamiliar situations, it usually takes me a few tries to figure out how the characters would react. I don't so much do research for those situations as I do trial-and-error. If a scene doesn't feel right, I start over. Still doesn't feel right, I start over. On and on until I find the one that makes me go YES.

Giving Gracias. And Philip Winchester.

(I know the title doesn't translate right, but it has the whole alliteration thing going for it, so I'm leaving it. Try to stop me.)

Because it is Thanksgiving, I'm going to rip a vlogbrother's video and do 50 things I'm thankful for. You don't have to read all of them, but they'll be funny and/or clever. Promise.

I'll be back on Saturday with answers to all of your amazing questions. Keep 'em coming! Until then, have an AMAZING holiday!

What are some things that make you guys thankful?

1) 2009. It has been by far better than 2008.
2) My puppy. She may be whiny and freakishly human, but I love that cute little mug.
3) My writer friends. Never have I met more amazing, imaginative, supportive people that I have never actually met. You guys rock :D
4) My family. Had to throw that one in, of course.
5) My super agent. 'nuff said.
6) My book. Some things just make me happy no matter what.
7) On that note: pirates.
8) On that note: Johnny Depp.
9) On that note: Philip Winchester.
10) This picture of Philip Winchester.
11) Tudor England.
12) Henry VIII. Weird? Yes. But that dude is INTERESTING.
13) History in general. It's one big story, and it all rocks.
14) When Pippa runs and barks in her sleep. Cutest thing ever.
15) An extension of #4: mi prima. She writes too. It makes me smile.
16) Hair color. Particularly red hair color.
17) My job. I may hate it most of the time, but the people I work with are freakishly cool.
18) The Vitamin String Quartet.
19) The 10th Kingdom mini-series.
20) All movies. Even the sucky ones.
21) Books that promote healthy, functional relationships.
22) Books that promote healthy, functional relationships. (I'm so thankful, it had to be said twice.)
23) Cake.
24) On that note: Marie Antoinette.
25) On that note: the French Revolution. Again, weird? Yes. But it was INTERESTING, people. They made a new calendar! And new clocks!
26) All pirate memorabilia.
27) The American Girl Doll collection. Especially Felicity (and Ben. *swoon*).
28) Writing until 1AM even though I know Pippa will wake me up at 6AM.
29) Disney crossover YouTube videos.
30) All cartoon movies. Especially the ones with songs like this and this.
31) Coming home to Pippa and seeing her little tail-less backside waggle with excitement.
32) Listening to people tell me really exciting news.
33) Chatting with fun people.
34) Decorating stuff.
35) Smoothies.
36) My non-writing friends. They keep me balanced.
37) Talking with people about books.
38) Talking with people about my/their books.
39) Talking with people about my/their characters as though they're real people. Then giggling when we realize we've been talking about our characters like they're real people.
40) Getting emails.
41) Cinnamon TicTacs. Cinnamon candles. Cinnamon in general.
42) My glasses that I got three years ago, stopped wearing after two months, and just found three days ago. My eyes feel SO MUCH BETTER.
43) Ireland and New Zealand.
44) Boys with copper skin. Mmm.
45) Characters/books that inspire me to be a better person.
46) Stories. Real stories, life stories, imagined stories, any stories.
47) Festivals.
48) The publishing industry.
49) Having the opportunity to make my dreams come true.
50) Being able to come up with 50 things that I'm thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving :D

Q? A!

I figured it was that time again. Give me your funny questions, your intellectual quandaries, your dire dilemmas. Give me questions to make me scratch my head and ponder life. Give me questions to make me giggle, chortle, or even snort. Or serious questions. Those work too.

Leave your questions in the comment box!

Wippet

I love that word, don't you?

Anyway, I can't think of anything snappy to blog about (er, anything snappier than "wippet"), so I decided to post a snippet of my currently-paused WIP White Like Ashes. I still love this story idea, but don't think I'll get to finish it any time soon. It's now been pushed to #4 in my story queue, which, if I was a novel-writing fiend like Natalie, wouldn't be a problem. But I'm not. In fact, since the quarter ended, I've written a grand total of 0 words. Yup. Go me.

But to encourage myself to FREAKIN' WRITE while I have oodles of homework-less time, I'm going to post a chunk from White Like Ashes so you all can tell me to keep FREAKIN' WRITING. This scene is pretty self-explanatory, but a bit of background: Evan is going to her bridesmaid's dress fitting for her mother's wedding. Her father died last year, and Evan isn't at all pleased with her mother's decision to move on so quickly.

The door dinged above me, setting a tone of cheesy-wedding-gore that ricocheted throughout the entire shop. Rows of designer wedding gowns in clear plastic garment bags lined the right wall while the left mirrored it except with bridesmaids gowns. The floor, walls, and checkout counter all reflected the same shade of nauseating pastel pink to enhance the fact that weddings made most people sick.

“Evan!”

The owner, Barbara Stevens, waggled her hands in the air as she scurried toward me. She wouldn’t be so stupid as to hug me. We’d only met once, two months ago, at the first fitting. Casual acquaintances don’t hug the daughters of clients–

Nope. Apparently they do.

Barbara’s perfume even smelled pink. “Your party’s this way! I can’t wait to see you in that dress, Evan; you’ll glow!”

There were so many things wrong with those two sentences that all I could do was follow her in a stupefied daze.

She led me to the back of the store where the pink carpet forked around a mirror-encased pedestal with a hall of fitting rooms on either side. The only “party” in the store sat in a semi-circle of pink upholstered chairs around the pedestal, giggling over glasses of champagne.

“Ladies! Another bridesmaid has arrived!”

The five women swung around at the same time, confusion linking their movements. Other bridesmaid? Oh, that’s right. That daughter-thing Madeleine has.

An empty chair waited for me next to Patricia Kingswood. She, Mary Anne Hayward, and Rebecca Shockton made up the three bridesmaids from my mother’s country club. The remaining two, Goldie Lewis and Hannah Rice, were distant friends from my mother’s college days. Though not from Fintan, they belonged to their own country club somewhere else in Pennsylvania, so they didn’t have the least bit of trouble sipping champagne and gibbering about flower arrangements.

“Your mom’s trying on her gown first, dear.” Patricia patted my knee as though I looked concerned as to my mother’s whereabouts. I lifted my eyebrows in acknowledgement, releasing her from any further entertainment duties by plugging into my iPod.

Barbara moved down the right-side set of dressing rooms. A moment passed, and she ran right back out. I didn’t need to hear her to know that she was squeaking about my mother’s approach.

Sure enough, five seconds later my mother turned the corner and ascended the pedestal. The other bridesmaids leapt up and flocked around her, a flurry of waving hands and carefully lifted champagne glasses. Their ooes and awes drowned out my iPod.

“You’re positively breathtaking, Maddy!” It had to be either Hannah or Goldie; only people from mom’s past called her Maddy. My father had called her Maddy.

“The veil isn’t too much, is it? I love the length,” my mom fussed. Her hands popped up above the assault of bridesmaids, holding a strand of tulle in the air.

“Take it off and I’ll kill you!” someone squealed. “It’s perfect!”

“Oh, Madeleine Rockford!”

I didn’t have enough brain function to even try to guess who squeaked that. My mother’s name on Stewart’s last name slammed into me, and I was a few seconds away from grabbing the three glasses of champagne that had been left by the chairs.

“Evan?”

I jumped. The bridesmaids had parted down the middle, all staring at me in a strange sort of forced silence, like they would pop if they didn’t let out a squeal or two in the next minute. My mother, half-turned toward me, waited.

“Evan? What do you think?” she asked, or more like mouthed, as my iPod didn’t have trouble drowning out normal speech.

My mouth went dry and I pulled an earbud out. But all those eyes on me – chugging champagne would never go unnoticed.

The gown my mother had chosen was traditional yet modern. Strapless, satin, princess-ball-gown skirt, with tight silver beading along the bodice and down into the waistline. Her sheer veil tumbled down her back, brushing the floor, the edge rimmed with the same silver beading as the bodice. She was beautiful, of course; she was always beautiful. But she wasn’t glowing. She didn’t have the same irresistible shine around her that she’d had in the videos of her and my father’s wedding. She wasn’t – happy.

“No one will even know, will they?”

My words froze her face one muscle at a time. The bridesmaids tightened, too, and looked awkwardly at the pink floor.

I’d broken our unspoken agreement. I’d talked about what we’d never, ever talked about.

“Excuse me?” My mother squinted, hoping she’d heard wrong.

The words tumbled out, a year of silence blasting through my lips. “No one will ever know how happy Connor Gorecki used to make you, will they? No one will ever know you used to love the disgraced BM Industries employee.”

Her blue eyes darkened. “Not now, Evan. This is hardly the place.” There will never be a place. We will never talk about this. Ever.

“Oh, don’t worry; after the wedding they’ll never know I was the offspring of the crazy scientist and his perfect Stepford wife. I won’t exist either.”

I shoved myself up from the chair, ignored Barbara’s protests that I hadn’t tried my dress on yet. I ignored the other bridesmaids’ looks of concern and sympathy. I ignored my mother’s continued icy glare. I ignored everything. Like mother like daughter.

Bricks. And Philip Winchester.

I went through some old blog posts and"cleaned house," so to speak. Which makes this my "real" 200th blog post. This doesn't really mean much to you; just thought you should know. In case you feel like celebrating.

*throws confetti*

I've been thinking a lot lately. Dangerous, I know, but it's like watching YouTube videos. You only mean to watch one, but then that other video that pops up on the Related Videos thread looks good too, so you watch it, but then, oh wait, the next video on the Related Videos thread was supposed to be REALLY funny, and before you know it it's 2AM and your fingers have gone numb from being crouched over the mouse since 10PM. Just. Can't. Stop.

(Guess what I've been doing since the end of the quarter? If you guessed YouTube video-watching, you're wrong. If you guessed YouTube video-MASTERING, you're right.)

Anyway, thinking. I've been thinking about bricks. Yes, bricks. Red bricks, stone bricks, brown bricks, square bricks.

(I'm TIRED. Give me a break. My jokes will suck today. And may involve a lot of parenthetical statements.)

But seriously: I've been thinking about life-bricks. You know, those individual moments in time that build one atop the other to make you into who you are. Those moments that, when you look back, are the moments when everything "began." You may not have realized it at the time, but they become those moments that make you shiver and get all giggly later.

I don't know about you, but the writer in me is CONSTANTLY trying to guess where/when/if I'm having a life-brick moment. I'm going to admit one of my greatest sekrit shames in saying that I frequently step back from myself and imagine what it would be like if a movie opened on *insert random point in my day.* What would happen next? Why would this brick be important? What could happen to make this brick even MORE important?

I love that I do this, even if it usually results in me being disappointed that that random moment didn't become the awesomely epic life-brick I had imagined. But in flicking through hundreds of scenarios each day, searching searching searching for excitement, I'm constantly flicking through stories. And every so often, one makes me stop and go "Woa. That would make a WICKED book."

So even if it's exhausting to incessantly search for life-bricks in my own life (and rarely, if ever, spot them), even if it makes my imagined life seem far more exciting than my real life, good does come from my little sekrit shame. I guess this is just a long-winded and strange way of saying: good can come from even the silliest, stupidest, weirdest things. Don't stop looking for good.

One last YouTube video. I have no idea what Philip Winchester is saying, but he can keep right on saying it as long as he keeps looking at the screen so...intently...

(PS: Did anyone watch the POTC video I linked to? Did anyone else notice the lyrics of that song? Did anyone else squeal as loudly as I did? A SONG about PIRATES and PRINCESSES. And some chick named Courtney. What's she doing in there? Never mind. PIRATES. PRINCESSES. In one song. *love*)

In Which I Discuss Purses and Synopsiseseses

What the heck is the plural of "synopsis"?! I got stuck in a "synopsiseseses" circle and couldn't get out! Argh!

*googles*

Okay, it's "synopses". Whew. Glad we got that ironed out.

Before I get all into discussing synopses (okay, that still sounds wrong. It sounds exactly the same as "synopsis"! What are you doing to me, Webster?), I have a link to share that I got from the lovely Pam Bachorz's blog. Just finished reading CANDOR by the way, and may I take a moment to say that you must, must read it if you have any interest at all in conspiracies, subliminal messages, or hot boys.

But anyway, here's the link. Apparently there's an artist who takes books and turns them into PURSES. Some of my favorites: Robinson Crusoe, HG Wells, and Arabian Nights. Apparently you can special order book purses with books of your choice (how Bachorz got her CANDOR book purse). Can you say "BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT FOR A WRITER EVER"? Can you imagine how stupidly amazing it would be to have a PURSE of your BOOK? Want.

On to the synopsis discussion:

So yesterday I set to work writing a synopsis for the STREAM PIRATE-sequel-that-was-a-trilogy-that-is-now-a-sequel. Writing the synopsis was a very good thing for a number of reasons, one of which was that before I wrote it, the sequel was just this big unsorted glob of idea in my Word story folder. But even after piecing it all into a cohesive form, I found that that cohesive form was still -- a mess. A three-page-long mess of "Lu did this, then did this, while this was happening." Bland and dry and so list-like I felt the next paragraph should start with "Eggs, butter, milk, and toilet paper."

Basically: my synopsis-writing skills suck.

Luckily, mi prima is amazing at writing synopses and agreed to tear mine to shreds. So after a few rounds of emails and drafts, we came up with a one-pager that kicked my three-pages of mess to the curb, got them a taxi, and sent them on their merry way.

My question then for you all is: how do you write your synopses? Do you loathe writing them like I do? Or, like mi prima, can you look at a mess of story goo and with just a few mouse-clicks and screen-glares get all the organization and information you need? Or do you have someone you send your synopses to tear to pieces?