Exciting News!!!!!

GUESS WHAT GUYS NO GO AHEAD GUESS DO YOU GIVE UP I'LL JUST TELL YOU

I WAS PICKED FOR PITCH WARS!!!!!!

And probably I shouldn't write this blog post in all caps, but on the inside I'm all AEKORJIRFANBJERHJFDAJRHEG

But on the outside I'm all SAHUIEFJOARJGAHRUEIGEARJEKGHEAEAJGKEALRE

So you can see that inside and outside I'm incomprehensibly excited.

ARIEHGJKALREG;EAHRJEKEAHREHAEKRE

Thanks to the awesome and very wise Alexandra Alessandri and Dannie Morin for taking me under their collective wings. We have a lot of work to do in the next two months! They've been relatively quiet so far, but it's the kind of quiet a lady lion does right before she pounces, only when they pounce on my manuscript, yeah it will get bloody and torn up, but instead of then rotting and stinking and turning to dust it will emerge from the tatters better and brighter. Like a Phoenix!

Huh. I should write a book about that.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA DO YOU SEE WHAT IT'S BEEN LIKE IN MY BRAIN/BODY ALL DAY TODAY SO MANY EXCLAMATORY TIMES!!!!!!

Anyway, on a more serious note, I'll be blogging about my experience, including the buckets of knowledge I'll gain, so tune in for more of these shenanigans.

May your Red Vines ever be soft!

Book-Tube-A-Thon Giveaway!!

My bestie, Christine (WHOSE HAIR I COVET ON A DAILY BASIS) has a fantastic vlog. If you haven't seen it yet, you should check it out. Every time I watch a new episode, I think two things: 1) I should start vlogging. 2) I should cut my hair like hers. And then I remember that I don't know how to vlog, and that my hair--thin and straight vs. her thick and curly--would hang limply by my ears, instead of being fantastic like hers.

I should stop talking about her hair, because I think it makes her slightly uneasy how obsessive I am about it.

But guys, it's AMAZING. Like, rivaled only by Ewan McGregor's hair in Jack the Giant Slayer.

This hair was my favorite part of the movie.

ANYWAY.

Christine has a vlog. And on that vlog she's having a giveaway, one that you want to enter and win, because oh man.

The pretty! The books! The pretty books!

But I'm not going to tell you what books, because you should really hop over there and check it out for yourself. But you want them. So go check it out.

And leave a comment about her amazing hair. She loves those.

What's Really Important

I recently came across an old notebook, the one I was using when I wrote the first draft of my current WIP (the WIP fondly known as "The Story That's Trying to Kill Me") (more on that another day). Along with some utterly embarrassing story snippets that I thought back then were pure gold, I found a list I wrote called "The Important Points of the First Ten Chapters."

The reason I made this list was because I had just realized my story started at the wrong place. I'd read a blog post that suggested making a list to see what really needed to be included and going from there. So, with that brilliant idea, and my equally brilliant and creative list title, I did that.

Guys.

It's been over a year since I made that list, and my beginning is finally (hopefully) where it should be, but on a list of over twenty important points, guess how many are still in the story?

Four. Yes, four little things that have survived the hacking and slashing and ugly weeping of six more drafts. It was amazing to me to see how much my story had changed. And it's not just changing, it's improving. Very encouraging.

It made me think of this post by Natalie Whipple about the malleability of stories. Things might feel so important and key to our plot, but if they're not working out, you know, it's okay. It's okay, guys.

Now. I'm going to chant that to myself as I go back to kneeling in front of my laptop, begging this WIP to cooperate. Malleability. I got this.

A Post Not Very Related To Writing--But I'll Give It a Shot

In a fit of exuberance at the end of January, I joined a health and fitness challenge. Pretty much, I have an exercise regimen and I commit to eating healthy, check in every day on my progress, post results weekly, and post pictures every 30 days. Also, there are mini challenges once or twice a week.

All in all, I'm feeling pretty good. However, this week's food challenge may be the hardest one yet: no sugar until Saturday morning. *sobs quietly into fist* *trashes house in search for grapes*

Actually, it hasn't been that bad. Since I got the message this morning, only a third of my thoughts have been sugar-related. So I'm thinking this will be a piece of...carrot stick. *sob*

In other, non-related, non-writerly news, my husband and I went to a basketball game in Utah this past weekend. A few observations:

• Utah Jazz fans are CRAZY.
• Utah Jazz fans don't appreciate people cheering for the Heat in their arena.
• Utah Jazz fans really don't like LeBron James.
• LeBron James doesn't care.
• Booing LeBron James only makes him play better.

So, here's the writing connection we'll make: I'm lucky enough to have full support in my writing from family and friends, but I know some people have to deal with naysayers. If that's you, just let their booing propel you forward. Become the LeBron James of the writing world. Because like him or not, watching him play in real life is poetry. Unless you're a Jazz fan.

Dirty Houses and Messy Manuscripts

In the past six months, I've had the chance to meet two awesome women, my CP/BFFs Christine and Julie.

I know what you're thinking.

Yes, they are as awesome in real life as they seem online. Yes, I am actually taller than Julie. Yes, Christine does make the most a-MAH-zing scrambled eggs.

And no, I didn't watch them sleep (tempting) or hold them hostage in my crawl space when it was time for them to leave (also tempting).

When Julie came, I had just moved into my new house (living there for over a month still counts as JUST moving, right?) and there were still boxes everywhere. Within five minutes of our meeting, I had her and her husband helping me stuff boxes in a closet so we'd have room to hang out.

When Christine was here, she did my dishes on more than one occasion. She also babysat my kids while I picked my husband up from work.

Although our visits were--overall--super fun, I mention these lame things because inviting your best friend into your disheveled house is kind of like turning over your disheveled MS to a crit partner. It's not perfect. There are rough spots. There are embarrassing parts. There are things that don't work. But it's okay, because they are your friend, they love you, and they're there to help.

Turning a rough draft over for anyone to read is hard, but giving it to someone who cares about you takes away some of the pain. They have your best interest at heart. They don't want you to strain your back carrying those heavy boxes by yourself. They want you to try eating crab that's cooked right so you can get over your seafood phobia. And they want your story to be the best it can be.

It might be mortifying at times. It might make you feel like a dork. But, when the boxes are cleared, the dishes are dry, and the manuscript is fresh and tight and beautiful, you see that the most daunting tasks are better with a friend or two.

I've been tagged! I know that comes as a surprise to all of you. Who plays tag anymore, and on the Internet? Dangerous. It's all fun and games until someone trips over their spell checker. Thanks to Gina, Jenna, and Amber for tagging me!

Since I was tagged three times, with 11 questions each, I've decided to pick five from each tagger to answer. So, here we go:

1. What is your favorite YouTube video? At the moment, this one: ^
2. What was the greatest live music experience you've ever had?  This will make me sound like a super lamey lamerson, but I've never actually been to a concert, except my own in high school. So, I'll have to say, high school choir solos were great. Oh, and once we sang the national anthem at Candlestick Park in California, which is where the Beatles did their last public performance. So, there you go.
3. What was your worst date ever? I was brought to the realization this summer, after a therapeutic discussion with a friend, that all of my worst dates have included frozen yogurt. The Frozen Yogurt Dates. Those are the worst ones.
4. If money is no object, what would your dream vacation be? I would love to go on an African safari, the kind with the open air jeeps and the lions chasing me and giraffes eating leaves out of my hand. My plan, after high school, was to go to Africa and become a safari guide but that fell through. On my way home, I'd stop in Greece, Italy, and New Zealand as well.
5.   Would you rather live in a crowded city or small town? Small town, but not too small. Although, my other plan after high school was to move to New York City and live in a tiny apartment, just me and a gray cat. This also fell through, in part because I'm allergic to cats.**
6. If you could choose the manner of your death- but not the timing- what would you choose? I would choose a skydiving mishap. Then, on my 95th birthday, I would bid my family and friends farewell, get in the plane, and jump to my destiny. And enjoy the ride down.
7. Redvines or Twizzlers? Pfff, Redvines. NEXT QUESTION, PLEASE.
8.   With your iPod/MP3 on shuffle, what's the first song that comes up? "Sleeping to Dream" by Jason Mraz. What can I say? I like angst.
9. You're the producer for turning any one book into a movie, which do you choose to do? Good grief, The Chaos Walking Trilogy by Patrick Ness, for sure. As producer, I do get to make sure the story isn't mangled, though, right? Because that would be a shame.
10.   Flowers or chocolate? Flowers. I love flowers.
11. Favorite book, movie, and TV show? Favorite books: The Two Princesses of Bamarre by Gail Carson Levine, I Capture The Castle by Dodie Smith, The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi. Favorite Movies: Stardust and Hairspray. Favorite TV show: Survivor. I will be on it someday, as soon as I get more buff and more crazy.
12. Would you rather have free Starbucks for five years or free itunes for life? I don't drink coffee, so iTunes wins hands down. I love me some music.
13. What inspires you more, music or visual (ie: photography, scenery, etc)? Music influences a lot of my creativity. But so does a long, hot shower...
14. Would you rather be able to talk to animals or to be able to speak and understand any language? I think it would be cool to talk to animals. I used to talk to dogs about my woes when I was in those awkward teenage years, so it would've come in handy.
15. Did you cry in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part two?  Was one of the times when Dumbledore asked Severus, "After all this time?" and Severus responded, "Always. "  And if not, are you sure you have a soul?  I don't let myself cry during movies unless I'm alone. If I feel the emotion rising, I chant, "It's not real. They're only acting. It's not real. They're only acting." I have vulnerability issues. As for the condition of my soul, well, let's talk about Fred Weasley and see how well my chanting works. 

Since I'm so late in the game, everyone else has been tagged, I think. So, I'm tagging...YOU! Pick one of the questions and answer it in the comments! (And if you haven't been tagged, consider this your tagsignation. [I don't know why I keep making up new words. I must be showing off for the new guys.])

**the real reason my plans fell through: I fell in love with my husband in high school and didn't want to leave him. Curse you, true love!!

We Are Us

There are two common interests my dad and I share: music and books.

There are two things my dad and I almost always disagree on: music and books.

It's sad, really.

I mean, we agree on common stuff, like the Beatles. And the Bible. That's about where our tastes diverge.

We're both on an unofficial mission to convert each other to the "right" side now. I recommend books to him. He makes me listen to his music. Sometimes something sticks, and sometimes it doesn't.

This isn't a bad thing, though. We have lively discussions. Chairs are thrown! Decorative pillows are ripped! Windows beg for mercy!

Okay, no. But, we do enjoy the lively discussions.

I was thinking about this in relation to writing. I would love to be the next amazing whoever, but the only thing I can be is myself. I'm the only one who can write like me and that's so awesome.

Regina Spektor doesn't sing like Colbie Caillat. If she did, people would probably rip decorative pillows, because come on, that would sound weird. They're totally different.

So, yo, Regina (or, you know, insert your name here), KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. Because when you make your voice do that weird cool thing like only you can do, we know can write that character with a funny little quirk. Or the plotline that some people might think is too out there, but that we can pull off.

Because WE ARE US, dang it!*

*eloquent bits of wisdom brought to you by Jeigh. Keep being yourself.

Oh, The Early Work Blogfest

*First off, if you feel so inclined, check out my post for the 2nd Campaign Challenge and throw me a vote! (I'm #171)Thanks!

Today's post is brought to you by Juliemybird's Oh, The Early Work blogfest/giveaway. There will be prizes! And lots of funny stories, so go check it out.

Also, dino love. 

Since I've already written about my first, psychotic, puppy-mutilating attempt at an epic story, I'm going to tell you about a different, but just as embarrassing, early writing experience.

There was a certain boy I pined for from third grade to eighth. He was, guys, SO cute. I can't describe him, or name names, because I'm still on speaking terms with his family and if he ever heard about this OHMYGOSHIWOULDDIE. Because I'm still twelve, apparently.

Nevertheless, I liked him a lot.

He inspired many a love-interest.

We actually almost became friends. We were within the same circle, capable of almost-not-awkward interaction, and--for one glorious month and a half--racing buddies when the bell rang to come in from recess. He was the one for me, I was positive.

And then, the worst thing possible happened: Junior High.

He was cute, and cuteness gets you popularity in junior high. I was not cute. I didn't get popularity.

Suddenly, my semi-friend-love couldn't bother himself to speak to me. No more racing. It was sad.

I channeled all my anguish and angst into a story about a girl who really liked a boy, and how they used to be best friends (slight exaggeration) but now he wouldn't even talk to her. She knew they were meant to be, and one day, he finally came to his senses, swept her off her feet, and they lived happily ever after.

I knew, I KNEW if he read it, he'd understand the pureness of my heart, that I wasn't just another spacey cheerleader after him for his rosy cheeks and curly dark hair. I saw to his soul.

So, I wrote him a casual note: "Hey, how's it going? How do you like seventh grade? What's your favorite class? Oh, by the way, I wrote a story and I was wondering if you would like to proofread it for me. Okay, let me know." I slipped it into his locker.

Lucky for me, he didn't answer. His avoidance of me became even more concentrated. And the bridge of our love was forever burned.

It's for the best, though. That story was totally lame.

What sort of gems did you write in your younger years? Link up at Julie's blog!

Hi There. You're Looking Rather Sensational.

I'm in the middle of unpacking and settling into a new home, but I just wanted to say hi to all my new blogging buddies. Hi! Whether you've come from the Campaign, Sparkfest, or another random portal of the internet, I'm glad you're here.

*pushes plate of cookies toward you*

I usually try to reply to each comment through email, but with the aforementioned moving and everything, I've fallen behind, so I'm just going to start from here. If I haven't found you at your blog yet, don't worry. I will find you. I wiiiiiillllll. Pay no attention to the creepyness in my eyes. It's too late. I'm coming.

Oh, and all my not-new followers: *secret handshake that we'll teach the newbies later*

See how much fun we have here?

Music Inspiration

Ahh, unrequited love.

Doesn't it suck?

Don't we all remember that special boy we pined after from third grade to eighth, and even though you came close to being friends, he never saw past the thick glasses and braces and flat chest and second-hand clothes and impossible-to-style-into-popular-poofy-bangs hair and all-consuming talent for making all ordinary moments painfully awkward?

Or is that just me?

Anyhow, that pain of loving someone you simply can't have is a powerful hurt, and this song just throws it in your face. It makes my heart ache. And it really, really helps zero in on the emotions of one of my favorite characters, bless her pitiable little broken heart.

Give it a listen and see what you think.

You want whipped cream with that?

There is a charming little shop in my hometown called the Pie Hole. It immediately brought to mind thoughts of this show:

I may have squealed. A PIE HOLE?? Right here in my little town? Visions of bright colors, quirky waitresses, and cute pie-makers filled my imagination.

Cherry pie actually is my favorite! How did he know?

I drove past The Pie Hole several times and noticed that it was open until 5am. More romanticizing began. How awesome would it be, after all, to get a slice of pie in the middle of the night? There would be gingham! And dollops of ice cream! And I would probably get called "Hon", which I don't generally like, but seems to fit in a pie shop.

So for weeks I dreamed of having a reason to be up in the middle of the night and hungry for pie. I told my husband we should just go some night, just go like crazy teenagers in love who didn't care about proper nights sleep or indigestion.

He was totally down with that, but then we kept falling asleep too early.

Finally, my time came. In my town, there is also an awesome theater that has midnight movies for a dollar on the weekends. My husband and I decided to go, so of course we planned on a pie-eating stop on the way home.

The first thing I noticed as we pulled up in front of The Pie Hole was the drunk people. Lots of drunk people. And the place was bumpin', which didn't fit my fantasy of a romantic pie-for-two date.

Nevertheless, I was undaunted. I had primed my belly for pie, and by dang, I was GOING TO GET MY PIE.

We wove our way through who I assume was the entire starting lineup of the local college's football team, loitering on the front stoop of the shop, and stepped through the doors.

Loud music blasted our ears. Bright, graffiti-ed walls seared neon colors onto my retinas. The waitress, who was NOT wearing a gingham apron, was wearing a trucker hat with devil horns and sporting some very impressive cleavage. I looked at my husband. He said, "It smells like beer in here."

Beer and pie didn't make much sense to me, but whatever.

I pulled my husband through the shop to the counter and looked up at the menu, and then I realized...




...this was a pizza joint.

A PIZZA JOINT!!! Seriously?

I didn't want pizza in the middle of the night! Heartburn, people! I'm old now! I have to think of these things!

We left.

And I've been craving cherry pie ever since.

Moral of the story?

First off, seriously have a notebook with you at all times, because The Pie Hole would make an awesome setting in a story and I should have written down all the details.

Second, make sure the details in your story aren't too vague. I feel that you don't have to describe each room down to the brass knobs on the cupboards, but a few well-defined touches brings the whole place to life.

Beer, loud music, brightly painted skateboards doubling for the seat backs of booths, devil hat=obviously a pizza place.

Quirky china plates, gingham aprons, gleaming checkered floor, and sweet little bouquets at each table=my Pie Hole. Let your reader know where they are before they get confused. (Also, if they bothered to peek in the window before they actually went in, all the better for them.)

And third, a pepperoni pizza painted on a shop window can easily be misconstrued as a cherry pie. It's okay.  I won't make fun of you if you make that mistake. (Unlike my parents, who knew the truth about the Pie Hole and didn't tell me.)

The pictures that are not to be.

Sadly, the USB cable for my camera (which I called the HDMI cable in my last post like a dork) is packed somewhere, along with my muse and my inspiration. (More on that later, though.)

That means that you're just going to have to use your imagination as I talk about the pictures from the Utah Festival of Books.

HERE'S ME AND NATALIE WHIPPLE. Note how cute she looks in her blue top and how I kept my sunglasses on so that she couldn't see my eyes watering, on the verge of tears even, because I was so nervous to meet her. She was WAY nice, guys, and mildly freaked out by my fangirlness. But, she liked my yellow shoes. !!! I know! Also, I may have accidentally screamed in her face with excitement.

HERE'S ME AND JAMES DASHNER. Don't I look extra cute in this picture? He was such a nice guy. I told him I hoped to someday write a story as awesome as The Maze Runner and he asked if I was a writer. I told him I was and he asked what I'd written. I said, "Well (*shuffle shuffle*), I'm still practicing, I'm not very far along..." My SIL cut in and told him I've written a novel. "A whole novel?" James Dashner asked. "You actually finished it?" I continued to downplay, saying how it's really rough, I'm rewriting it, etc., but then he said, "That's huge! Lots of people start, but not many finish." Seeing that I still wasn't convinced, he leaned forward and said, "Really. You should be proud of yourself. That's a big accomplishment." I replied by grinning like an idiot.

Take home lesson: Don't sell yourself short. Also, support James Dashner, because he's my new BFF.

OHMYGOSHYOUGUYS, HERE'S DAVID ARCHULETA!! I promise I didn't scream like a teeny-bopper when I realized he was there. Not twice, at least. And see how close I was to him? I'm pretty sure I could have touched him before anyone tackled me, but I still had other signings to go to. AND, he was there to talk about his new book, and he didn't sing. At all. WHAT THE HECK, DAVID ARCHULETA?!? I missed his signing by about 2 minutes, but when we got to the table where he wasn't, his marker was still there. I almost stole it, but my conscience (and the look of disbelief on my SIL's face) stopped me. Because seriously, I don't even really like him that much.

HERE'S ME WITH KIERSTEN WHITE. See how we're the same height (when she's wearing heels) and therefore automatically look like sisters? And see how she put her arm around me and so I did likewise? !!! She was really cool, too, and really funny. Also, she recognized my name from her blog comments! !!! I don't remember what happened after that, because I died in a happy little heap at her feet. She asked, "Do you remember that one time we had a discussion about your name on my blog comments?" and I said, oh-so-coolly, "Uh, YES, I kind of have it bookmarked." That thread can be found here, just in case you were curious about my moment in the sun. I had her sign a piece of paper and three bookmarks before I remembered later that I'd brought a copy of Corsets and Clockwork for her to sign. So I went back and had her sign that, too.

HERE'S ME WITH ALLY CONDIE. You know how Ally Condie is really pretty in every picture you see of her? That isn't airbrushing, people. She really is that pretty. So don't look at me so much in this one. It was the end of the day, I was melting from heat and over excitement, and I'd just finished a sno-cone. But look at Ally! So pretty. Also, she is a really nice person, and impressed that I knew the name of her next book, which I gushed about on and on. I gush when I'm nervous and excited.

FINALLY, HERE'S A PICTURE OF ME AND MY AWESOME SISTER (IN-LAW), LUANNE. She isn't a writer, but she is a reader, and also she loves me, so she agreed to come. I'm so glad she did. She got Natalie Whipple's attention for me. She said everything at the same time as me when we first started talking to James Dashner until he finally asked, "Are you guys sisters or best friends?" Both, JD. Both. She took all these lovely pictures and said, "Perfect!" every time. And she kept me talking to and from Provo, which is about a three hour drive each way. She is such a great friend and was such a great support in this, my geekiest moment. Thanks for the fun trip, Lu!

And I hope you guys like my pictures. Feel free to copy them for your own albums.