critter corner: October 2011

Why I Hate Halloween, and My New Name for this Holiday

Halloween Costumes, Lego Star Wars, and Where I'll be Next Weekend

Hey Y'all!

First off, some housekeeping. Wednesday's contest will close on Sunday at midnight. The winner will be chosen at random by random.org on Monday.

Second: I will be at the Vegas Valley Book Festival next weekend. Anyone else going to be there? I will be giving away 15 (FIFTEEN!) ARCs of EVERNEATH at the Paranormal Ball, along with some swag like guitar pick necklaces and such.

So, if you have not yet registered for the Paranormal Ball, you can sign up here.

And if you want more information about the incredible lineup at the Book Festival, you can check it out here.

My awesome sisters-in-law are possibly making the trip to Vegas to hang out with me at the ball. One of them was concerned about costumes.

sis-in-law #1: "What does one wear to a Paranormal Ball?"

Sis-in-law #2: "Well, something Paranormal."

#1: "Like Princess Leia? Should I dress as Princess Leia?"

#2: "Umm... she's not really a paranormal character."

#1: "Okay. How about... Lego Star Wars? Should I dress as Lego Star Wars?"

#2: "Again, not really paranormal. Think more along the lines of Buffy the Vampire Slayer?"

#1: "But, I don't look a thing like Buffy."

To be fair, though, she doesn't really look like Princess Leia either. Or Lego Star Wars. (Not quite sure how someone would resemble Lego Star Wars in the first place.)

I think it was possible that sis #1 was confusing "Paranormal" with "ComiCon".

So, if you would like to see me dressed as a surprise (surprise as in "I have no idea what I'm wearing yet!") and my sis-in-law dressed as an entire set of Lego Star Wars, come to the ball!

Thirdly, yesterday was the Halloween Parade.

Kid B went as Toad.

He's holding hands with his teacher, Miss Newman. He would be adopted by her if he could.

Kid C went as a Human Whoopie Cushion

Pull my finger.

Nine years ago, I worried that if we named him "Carter" people would call him "Carter the Farter". Now, I'm dressing him up as a Whoopie Cushion.

He rocked that costume, by the way. He went up and down the aisles cheering and waving, as if he were Thor about to be crowned king, and not a giant pink tooter.

So, what's everyone doing this weekend? Any plans for Halloween?

A Change in the EVERNEATH Due Date... and I'm Giving Away a Surprise

How the Play OUR TOWN is Related to EVERNEATH

Why I'm Driving to Blackfoot, Idao

Hey y'all! I'm blogging from the road again. Sam and I loaded the boys into the car and we are heading to Idaho. Blackfoot, in particular. Why, you ask? (You asked, right?)Because years and years ago, I was just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her... And then asking him to quit his job in the city and move with her to the tiny town of Blackfoot, Idaho so she could be a reporter in a tiny news station. And the rest is history. And by "history" I mean I spent a year chasing news where there was no news, and Sam spent a year entertaining himself by collecting corn husks to weave into baskets and sell on street corners for money. And we needed the extra money, because I signed my contract with the NBC affiliate for 16,000 dollars a year. That is not an exaggeration. After a year we went a little crazy. I asked the hard questions, only to realize I was holding my microphone up to a tree. And Sam replaced the corn husks with his own bellybutton hair, weaving beautiful hairy baskets. We began stockpiling weapons and raging against THE MAN, only THE MAN turned out to be the homeless guy who hung out at the WalMart. Eventually I realized I hated television news, and Sam hated basket-making, so we moved to London, and we haven't been back to Blackfoot since.Until today. We are taking the boys to see our old apartment (we lived on Wagon Wheel Drive). We will visit the two Arctic Circles (yes, there were two!) and eat at that one place we can't remember the name of. For years, we considered Blackfoot a four letter word, not spoken of in social circles. It was nothing against Blackfoot. It was only because neither of us were getting what we wanted out of life. But today, twelve years later, we realize there were good memories too. Not only that, but the first book I ever wrote was about a 17 year old girl who was a reporter for her school. In Blackfoot. And she has to deal with an impending alien invasion, set to wipe out her town. Some people have Georgia on their minds. Some people leave their hearts in San Francisco. I left my brain in Blackfoot. So, what's everyone else up to this weekend?P.s. I typed this on my iPad. Sorry for any typos.

The Post with all the Wisdom and Insight

I envy those blogs that impart cutting edge, important, frank wisdom. Sometimes I want to be the person who makes a statement, and then people pass it along, saying things like, "A must-read post for anyone who's ever felt afraid!" Or "Brodi Ashton weighs in with the final say on the latest brouhaha over the bangs-or-no-bangs controversy" Or something like that.

So, writer peeps, let's have an important discussion. Below, I have three essential topics on which I have insight... on... for them (okay, that sentence totally got away from me. It happens when I'm trying to be insightful).

1. I keep having this recurring dream that one of my legs is shorter than the other. Like, a foot shorter. Then I try to walk like a typical person, and I look strange. And all the while I'm thinking, how did this happen?

And then I remember something one of my childhood friend's mother told us: "If you keep standing like that, with more weight on one of your legs, and your hip sticking out like your a hussy, it will stunt that leg's growth."

And then, in my dream-self-brain, I think, Ohmyheck, she was right!

So, dream interpreters, what does this mean?

2. Last night, as I was falling asleep, I was brainstorming ideas for my Everneath 2 revision when an epiphany hit. The only problem was, I was too tired to write it down. (Writing it down would've involved rolling over to my nightstand, grabbing the notebook there and making a few notes.)

So I thought of a key-word for the idea: "Patchwork".

I ingrained the keyword in my head. "Patchwork, patchwork, patchwork... remember patchwork."

And then, for a test, I'd let my brain relax for a few moments, and then I'd be all, "What's the word, Brain?!"

And I'd answer myself, "Patchwork!"

This morning I woke up, and the first thing that popped into my head was, "Patchwork."

Only now, I can't remember the associating idea. The epiphany. It's gone. Lost in a NyQuill haze.

So, writer peeps, what did Patchwork mean?

3. While I was driving down the street, I saw an old man jogging. He was wearing a white v-neck shirt, and the low point of the "V" reached almost to his bellybutton. And yes, there was chest hair. And bellybutton hair.

When he caught me looking, he nodded, as if to say, "I know. Can you believe how much I rock this look?"

And then he winked. As if to say, "You're welcome."

I mouthed the words "Thank you."

So, yon Bloggerville, how much do you love bellybutton hair?

Discuss!

Burying Uncle Glendon

Has this Ever Happened to you when you're holding the door open for someone?

Ask me Anything Day!

Seven Easy Steps to Reading a Revision Letter

So, last Friday I got my revision letter for the sequel to Everneath (EVERNEATH 2: IT'S EVERNEATH-IER). This is always a scary time, I think for most writers. Unless you're Stephenie Meyer. She probably writes her own revision letters. Because she can do that. Because she's Stephenie Freakin' Meyer.

When I know my revision letter is coming, I like to prepare myself. I look in the mirror and say:

"Your editor likes you. She likes your book. She likes your characters. It's not personal."

and

"Remember revision letters are just more writing. You like writing."

Then I get all existential:

"Remember your book is just a bunch of words. Made up of tiny letters. Which are really just blips on a computer screen. Why are you so attached to blips? What did they ever do for you?"

and then I get personal:

"Seriously, reflection, your hair is, like, white."

and then defensive:

"Shut up, mirror-me! The box told me I'd look like Sarah Jessica Parker!"

Then you get the actual letter. I have a process for this that involves seven easy steps. I'm not saying this will work for everyone. I'm just saying it works for me.

Seven Steps to Reading a Revision Letter

1. The moment when you get the revision letter, spring back from the computer as if it is rabid.

This will give you literal space between you and all of your mistakes.

2. Jog a few laps around the kitchen island, shouting old World War II phrases of battle, like: "Mayday Mayday!" and "Tora Tora Tora!" and "Vive l'Empereur !"

This will get your blood flowing, thus getting you ready for the next step, which is...

3. Reading the letter.

Not you, though. You still stay away from the letter. Let someone more responsible, and less prone to hair dyeing mistakes, read the letter. In my case this person is Sam.

4. Have your more responsible half read all of the positive sentences from the letter, and skim over the rest.

This will sound something like: "Blah blah blah... Oh, she really likes the ending. Blah blah blah blah... oh, she uses the word 'potential' a lot here. Blah blah blah."

5. Print the letter.

While it is printing, stand next to the printer with your significant other, counting the pages as they print. Say things like, "It's probably going to be nineteen* pages long!" so that you can be pleasantly surprised when it is shorter.

*caution: Aim high because you really don't want to hit that number.

This time, it was seven pages long.

6. Go to dinner, and have your significant other mention briefly some of the highlights of the things your editor wants to change.

This way, when you read the actual letter, you can already have some ideas as to how to fix things. You can even convince yourself that you were going to fix these things anyway, and her letter just confirms it.

7. Finally, blog about reading the editorial letter before you read the editorial letter.

Um... check.

I just realized my "Seven Steps to Reading a Revision Letter" program doesn't involve actually reading the letter. So, I guess I should end this post and read it, since I got it three days ago. Unless you don't want me to go.

*eyes unread revision letter on kitchen table*

Cuz I could totally stay. And hang out for a bit. We could talk and stuff.

*imagines revision letter mocking me*

I mean, really. One more day of freedom won't hurt, right?

My Hair Disaster. Do not adjust your Computer Screen.

Thoughts on Tab, Puke, Movies and Pop Tarts (a post brought to you by Sam)

It is October. It is the Baseball playoffs and using a baseball analogy, I have been called in to relieve Brodi. You see, last night, Brodi didn't feel very well and only got a couple of hours of sleep. She should be fine, but now she gets to rest. But, about 5am, I hear Kid B - who does not believe much in speaking - calling out to me, 'Daddy, its puke. I puke-y.' You are right Kid B, you are puke-y all over your bed. So, it has been a fun morning taking care of him. He has handled this all without crying, though. He just keeps telling me 'So-rry, So-rry.' I inform him that 'Sorry' does not undo the puke-y on the floor...just kidding. I just give him a hug and tell him that it is OK. He is a tough kid. If you have any suggestions on quick fixes to this, I am all ears (I would be all hands as well, but I am too busy cleaning things up). He actually seems totally fine and hasn't puked since early this morning, so I think we are past the rough stage.We saw 'Contagion' a couple of weeks ago. Let me tell you - when you see that movie and then a week or two later, your boy is sick...you want to pick up the phone and call the President of the United States and yell 'My boy is sick, it is probably a deadly virus and we are all doomed.' Good movie. It was awesome in the theater as well. There was a man that kept clearing his throat thru the whole movie. Loudly and grossly. He probably did it ever 3-4 minutes. And every single time that he did it, all 100 movie watchers would audibly gasp. Every single one of us thought this guy was killing us with every 'aaacccckkkkk' he let out. If anything like this movie ever happens, we are locking ourselves in our basement with a HUGE supply of Pop Tarts, Diet Coke, Tab and Twizzlers. We will wait it out. On a sidenote - I think that Tab may actually turn out to be the cure all for all diseases and trouble. Drink Tab and it will basically fix whatever is wrong with you. *This statement has not yet been proven accurate, nor has it been approved by the FDA.When I read things, I like the actual thing, not an EReader. I get two newspapers delivered to our house, every day. I still get magazines delivered to our house (Business Week, Sports Illustrated, Entertainment Weekly and Consumer Reports). I still buy books. With that said, I recently purchased a book on our Kindle. And I liked it. I like how it keeps its place as to where I am in reading...I like that it is small and easy to carry around...I like that I can use my phone's Kindle App to read the book as well and it takes me to the last page read, with whichever device I am using...I will still be a book buyer guy as well as a newspaper guy, but I can say that I like the e-reader much more than I thought I would.Thanks for putting up with this post. I gotta go check in on Kid B to make sure that the puke-y is really gone and that it aint coming back.

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