critter corner: August 2010

In the Immortal words of Lil' Wayne: I need a Winn-Dixie Grocery Bag full of Money

I hate money. Who's with me?

Lately I've been stressed about money like never before. We've had a few incidents (heart surgery, floods, market instability) that have come at the most inconvenient time, and I'm feeling the pressure to start contributing.

I have a Masters Degree from a prestigious school. I should be paid for simply existing, right?

Wrong. (I totally want a refund. False advertising.)

I've been thinking about the various talents that I have, and how they could possibly make me money. Here are my options. I'd appreciate your thoughts:

1. Play Scrabble for a Living

I play online Scrabble with up-and-coming YA author Jody Sparks. Over the past couple of weeks, we had an epic game that involved two Bingos (where you play all the letters) and words like Jarl.

We kept tweeting to each other about the brilliance of our moves, and how amazing that last word was, etc. I think I even lost a few Twitter followers, who couldn't handle the awesome.

We're considering taking our Scrabble talent on the road. Selling some tickets to watch the madness. (We average one to two words a day, so one ticket to the match would equal entire days of edge-of-your-seat excitement.)

2. Live by my Pen

Currently, the only way I could live by my pen is if I sell my pen. Have you a need for a pen? It's a long, thin, rounded device used to apply ink to a surface for the purpose of writing or drawing, usually on paper, and for the low low price of $20,000, the pen can be yours.

If that doesn't work, Andy Roddick fan Michael Bourret will soon be submitting my book, and if all goes well, maybe there's a publisher out there who will pay me a whole bushel of pens. Which I could then turn around and sell.

If my book doesn't sell, I've heard that one pen in the hand is worth two in the bush, so I plan to double my current inventory by holding all my pens in my hand, and then going to the bush in my back yard to claim my treasure.

3. Professional Tennis Watcher

The U.S. Open starts today, and you know what that means... my main squeeze Rafael Nadal will be Live from New York, in all his wedgie-picking grandeur.

For the low low price of $20/hr, I will teach you how to sit on your couch and watch tennis like a true professional. Ever wanted to know how many times Rafa picks his wedgies during the match? I can teach you how to count!

Watch a wedgie-pick once, and you are satisfied for a few moments. Teach someone how to track thousands of wedgie-picks over the course of a career, and that person will be entertained for life.

4. Subscriptions to my Blog

If I divide up my debt between all of my faithful blog followers, I think that would give me a boost. So mom, you owe $10,000, and Sam, you owe $10,000.

5. Could someone please explain to me exactly how a Ponzi Scheme works? Just for curiosity's sake.

6. On an unrelated note, is it really illegal to sell a child? Or is it only illegal on paper, but overlooked in actuality. Like polygamy.

7. I have a metal detector, and I plan on surveying the beach out at the Great Salt Lake. I've heard majestic ships have been marooned on its shores.

8. Are my blog readers opposed to a banner on the side of my blog, advertising for GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS?

I'm open to other ideas. Anyone have words of advice? Anyone in the market for a set of Cutco Knives?

Everything You Need to Know about Dating can be Learned from 7 Brides for 7 Brothers

Prepare to Sing this Blasted Song All Day Long... Starring, Kid B

Writing for Charity Recap: In which I get to Handle Sara Zarr

In Which Brodi Takes a Stand Against the Airlines...

What I'm Reading, What I'm Writing, and Get Your First Page Critiqued

Hey y'all. I thought it was time to do some updates.

What I'm reading:

I was lucky enough to get my hands on an ARC of Matt Kirby's book THE CLOCKWORK THREE.

It was so good. You know, one of those books that makes me jealous of his way with words. I'm proud to call Matt a friend. So I can track him down and toilet paper his house.

What I'm Writing:

Some of you have been asking what the status is with my book. We are currently at Defcon 4.

Defcon 1: Find an Agent.

Defcon 2: Revist with Agent.

Defcon 3: Wait to submit to Editors.

Defcon 4: Blood turns to acid because the stupid clock is not ticking away fast enough, and even though you've been waiting for years already, you swear this time, the wait will kill you, so you spend most days trying not to send crazy-a** emails to your agent, demanding to know why he doesn't have the power to speed up time, and perhaps as incentive, you should open a vein and bleed acid blood on everyone...

Defcon 5: Submit to Editors. Or the world blows up. It's fifty-fifty.

Get Your First Page Critiqued, and Meet Some Authors

If you have an interest in the publishing world or writing in general, you probably have heard how important the first page is.

Well, this Saturday, you can have your first page critiqued by a nationally published author... and raise money to provide needy children with books!

It's a day of workshops and panels and critiques and signings, and an evening extravaganza, with some big names in the book world like James Dashner, Bree Despain, Jessica Day George, Shannon Hale, Ally Condie, Emily Wing Smith... and more.

I had my first page critiqued last year, and now I have an agent. *

*above statement was not FDA approved, and results may or may not be typical.

Anywho, you can come for the day, or evening, or both. Click here for more info and to register.

Whew. I'm off to Lagoon (the illegitimate love-child of Disneyland and the State Fair) with Sam and the kids, because I got to thinking that it's been a while since I puked my lungs out. Wish us luck.

The Great Flood of 2010... aka How I went Boating in my Basement

Hey y'all.

It's the Monday after the Great Flood of 1-0.

That doesn't sound right. How about "The Great Flood of Ten".

Nope. The Great Flood of Oh-Ten.

Forget it. I can't even get lucky on the name of the flood. Yes, welcome to the pity party.

So, it's 1:00 a.m. on Friday morning, and I hear something that sounds like a waterfall. Since we don't have one of those "Nature Sounds" machines, I know this is gonna suck.

We race downstairs to find this:

This picture does not begin to capture the scope of the disaster.

A sprinkler pipe burst just outside the window, and the entire window well was filled with water. It was spraying through the bottom of the window at this point, cascading down the wall to where it splashed playfully into the lagoon at the bottom.

(Apparently we were fortunate the window didn't shatter. Lucky us.)

I love what disasters reveal to us about our personalities. Sam was freaking out, because he hates water. Literally, he's had this exact nightmare for years, so for him, it was as if his worst nightmare had come to life. Here's a depiction of him.

(Sam. Every time he freaks out, he grabs a bottle of ketchup and starts shaking it)

Thankfully, in my worst nightmares, I've been shot in the head, probed by aliens, kidnapped, beaten, and the best one: I imploded due to implementing the wrong technique when popping a giant zit. Never dreamed about floods.

Sam was running around shouting expletives, so I guess it was my turn to be the voice of reason. I tried to think of words of wisdom, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was: "Get busy livin', or get busy dyin'!"

It worked. Because Stephen King knows his stuff.

Once Sam was able to speak to me using words that didn't start with F and end in CK (Frederick), I ducked outside, took out my cell phone, and called my mom. (She was in Cedar City. Strangely, she was asleep.) I don't know what I was expecting her to do about it, but I'm really not used to being the lame-a** "Voice of Reason" and so I had to talk to an actual voice of reason. (I just play one on tv).

Thankfully, we know a kick-butt disaster guy, who showed up on our porch the next morning with one of these beauties:

Attached to the machine was this guy:

(Jud Hanks. Superman owner of Nautica Cleaning)

He would've been here earlier, but he had to drive that thing all the way from West Jordan. (It's okay. It's street legal.)

After spending the night baling out water, I figured Jud and Sam had things under control. So I packed my bags, grabbed Kid C, and headed down to the Shakespeare Festival in Cedar City, to get my fix of men in tights.

And left Sam to deal with this:

Really, I think we were both exactly where we each wanted to be.

How was all y'all's weekend? Any disasters?*Added: Keep this Saturday free (the 21st) for the annual Writing for Charity event. Great chance to meet authors, and hobnob with fellow writers. And it's for a good cause. And reasonably priced! Click here for more info

AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHH. This is what I get for Complaining!

A Breakfast Mishap at SCBWI, and How I'm Planning on Getting to Heaven

The Most Awesome Exercise Book from 1980

M.T. Anderson's Break Out Session, or Why My Head Exploded at SCBWI

LA SCBWI Recap, in which I meet my Agent, and dance the Love Shack with M.T. Anderson

Hey y'all!

So, I'm back from the L.A. SCBWI conference, and although Sam told me to take plenty of pictures, I ended up with about 10 of Michael Bourret, and about 4 others.

I'll get into specifics later, but here are the highlights of the trip:

- I met my agent Michael Bourret for the first time ever!

He was a rock star at the conference, and every time he walked through the lobby, he got mobbed as if he were Keith Richards at a Stones concert. To his credit, he was kind and gracious to everyone.

(Michael Bourret, me)

I had an hour with him, so of course I spent the first forty minutes discussing my obsession with Rafa, because that's exactly how I like to manage my time with my agent.

In my defense, I had just met a movie producer guy who hinted that he could introduce me to Rafa, and that's not a good thing to say to me as I'm heading off to meet my agent for the first time.

It went something like this:

Michael: "Brodi, it's so good to finally meet you!"

me: "Hey! Speaking of "meeting", did you know there's a guy over there who said he could introduce me to Rafa Nadal? What can you do to make it happen faster?"

Great first impression.

-M.T. Anderson was at the conference.

He wrote books like Feed and Octavian Nothing, so yeah, he was King.

I went to a breakout session of his, where some random guy from the audience got to help him set up his projector.

(M. T. Anderson and Random Guy (aka Matt Kirby) having a total fanboy moment)

Sorry, that's the only picture I got of M.T. I know it's blurry. And that's not a random guy. That's author Matt Kirby, but Matt accused me of blogging about him "all the time", especially about his "dancing", so I promised Matt I wouldn't mention his name in any of my conference blogs.

I'll blog more about M.T.'s breakout session on Friday.

- I went to the Hearts and Souls Ball.

(Emily Wing Smith, Bree Despain, me, Sydney Salter)

I learned my lesson last year when I tried to wear shorts to the ball, and was promptly laughed off the dance floor. (btw, laughing someone off the dance floor is not as fun as it sounds. It is difficult to achieve, and painful for the target.)

This year, I wore a skirt! Unfortunately, I did not win "best costume." I think I was robbed.

- We danced!

(Me, Matt Kirby, Emily Wing Smith, Bree Despain)

Okay, so I don't have pictures of us dancing... unless you count this one.

Matt Kirby (a.k.a. "He who shall not be mentioned") claimed he couldn't (or wouldn't) be dancing, but the second the band started up with B-52's Love Shack, there was no stopping him.

Eventually, M.T. Anderson came over to our little circle and danced with us, prompting this inscription in my book:

"To Brodi: What fun we had in the LOVE SHACK"

Which made my hubby laugh and laugh. And laugh. And I think raise an eyebrow.

- I went to a breakout session led by Michael Bourret and Jill Alexander, author of The Sweetheart of Prosper County.

Michael and Jill killed in there. Literally, there were bodies, and limbs, and various types of bodily ooze, everywhere. They were that funny.

After the cleanup crew bleached the place, I got a picture.

(Michael, Jennifer Hunt - editor at Little, Brown books, Emily, me)

-I got to meet up with authors!

That's the very cool thing about going to SCBWI. You get to hang out in the lobby and make friends with people who love children's books, and who are just as crazy as you. Yes, you. I mean, me.

(Bree, me, Emily, Lindsey Leavitt -"Princess for Hire", Lisa Schroeder- "It's Raining Cupcakes")

- Did I mention I met my agent?

(me, wonderful girl whose name I don't know, Michael, Emily, Alice Pope of Team Blog fame)

Did I mention Michael accused me of blinding him with my cheap-a** camera? Did I mention I had to steal the camera cuz I don't have one of my own?

When he found out, Michael frowned and said, "We need to get you a book deal." I couldn't agree more. I'd like a deal at least large enough to buy me a camera that doesn't cause retinal damage. So, $250 should be fine.

Okay, this post has gone on long enough. I'll have more later! I missed you all, and I would've blogged from the conference, but the hotel charged for Wi-Fi, and if I can't afford a camera, I certainly can't afford to pay for Wi-Fi, which should really be as free as air.

So, what have y'all been up to?

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