BOO!

I haven't talked much about my current WiP. That's probably because up until a few days ago I was stressed out of my mind with various life things going on.

What changed?

Absolutely nothing. I simply realized not only was I unhappy, I was messing up my body with all of the stress. So I decided to chill out, and it worked.

Cool. And now I can get back to work. Not that I haven't been working--I did an edit on Instinct, and I've worked on my WiP (which we will call Loren for the sake of making sense), but I've been going so

s
l
o
w
.

Hopefully I can get back on track now. Loren is my first foray into a ghost/mystery type story. It's very moody, and much heavier on description than my other books. It's also first person present tense, which I've mentioned, and which is particularly challenging. I'm sure it's going to be a pain in the neck to edit, but I'll worry about that when I actually get through the first draft.

And, as far as ghost stories go, I think it's interesting. It's very...lovely. Hauntingly so, if you will. Tee hee. But I'm focusing much more on mood and subtle creepiness than shock factor. And there's absolutely no gore--there is, however, romance. It's a very internal sort of story, exploring how Loren's loneliness and emotional isolation contribute to...

Well, I can't give too much away, right?

If you were going to write a ghost story, would it be horror? Would you have buckets of blood and constant mortal peril? Would it be dark and moody? Would it be lighthearted? Humorous? I wonder how one would write horror. I'd say I never will, but you know me, that'd be my next project. And as much as I love blood and guts and gore, well, I don't.

I'll stick with my lovely, creepy, romantic mystery of a ghost story.

(ALSO: I have not forgotten Carrie and Janey, my contest winners of a poem in their honor. I just haven't been clever enough lately. And I haven't forgotten my cookie winners, Bevie and Sara, I just haven't had chocolate chips yet.)

Monday! Hooray!

Come on--admit it, you are SO THRILLED that it is Monday, right? Right!

We went to the Wild Animal Park on Saturday. In a rare treat, we got to see the cheetahs right up next to the fence. A trainer was in there with them, talking about how they had been abandoned by their mothers and hand raised. When she was finished informing us that cheetahs are the only big cats to purr, she asked if there were any questions. Hot Stuff leaned over to me and said, "How do you account for the success of this program when it's a well-known fact that cheetahs never prosper?"

Ba-dum-BUM!

***

Last night we were visiting with my mother-in-law, who is a kindergarten teacher. She was telling us about a father who is very stressed out that his daughter (his FIVE-YEAR-OLD daughter) is only getting acceptable marks in science. After all, she wants to be a doctor. (I've heard Ivy League schools have begun looking up kindergarten scores for admissions now.) "Nayna," I said, turning to my nearly-five-year-old, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled. "A butterfly."

Never say my children aren't ambitious.

Oh, Baby!

Has anyone else noticed the strange new link on your Blogger Dashboard? You know the one I'm talking about.

That's right: Monetize.

I thought it was a joke at first. Monetize? Seriously? Maybe Blogger's designers watched that old Captain Crunch commercial a few too many times. "Crunchetize me, Cap'n!" "Dude, that was BRILLIANT. How can we use that with Blogger?" "I've GOT IT!"

Still, I'd definitely like a little more monetization of my life. Monetize me, Blogger!

Strange. I clicked on it, but no money has spewed forth out of my CD drive. And I haven't turned into a walking, talking stack of twenties. Clearly no monetization has occurred.

Wait, you mean it's just for those side ads? The ones no one in their right mind clicks on or even reads? Oh yeah, baby, show me the money. I'd be raking in the dough in NO TIME. Forget looking for freelance work, forget trying to find magazines I could submit articles to. We're going to be freaking rich.

Or not. Guess I'll have to find some other way to monetize. Or maybe I'll just click on that link a few more times in the hopes that it starts raining dollars from the ceiling...

Well

It turns out this whole blogging every day thing is harder than I thought it would be. I figured, if Kiersten can do it, must be easy.

You're probably thinking that this gives me a newfound respect for her. Ha! Quite the contrary. Now I think she's even more absurd. Blogging creative and funny content every day is hard work; why bother? Especially now that all of you are going to stop visiting the blog like I've requested.

So, for my last day of blogging I thought I'd interview Kiersten. Kiersten? Kiersten!

What?

I'm interviewing you.

I thought the whole point of you taking over the blog was so that I didn't have to?

Shut up. I'm asking the questions. Now, what would you say is your main inspiration in your writing?

I'd have to say daydrea--

WRONG. Try again.

Umm, Hot Stu--

WRONG.

My beautiful childr--

WRONG AGAIN.

Ummm...my wonderful laptop? Yeah? I see that keyboard and the words just demand to be tapped out.

That's what I thought. Next question. If the apartment was on fire, what would you save?

My children.

Don't be stupid. Fine. If you were ALONE in the apartment, and it was on fire, what would you save?

When am I ever alone?

Just answer the question!

Fine. Our personal documents.

Dumb. What else?

Family videos and pictures.

Yawn. What would you REALLY save?

You.

Exactly! Take that, camcorder!

Oh, actually, I'd save that, too.

Next question. You're always complaining about being tired. "I don't get enough sleep, the kids wake up too early, waaah waaah waaah." Why don't you just do what I do and go into hibernation mode whenever you're left alone for five minutes?

What a fabulous idea! Now I've just got to get Dojo not to demand my attention every thirty seconds.

Sarcasm isn't attractive.

Isn't that rather like the Dell calling the Compaq black?

Oh, I see how it is. I know what you daydream about when you think I'm not paying attention! Those smooth corners, that thin build, that pale, creamy exterior. You want a Mac! Don't you!

Hate to break it to you, Laptop, but who doesn't?

I don't!

Sure, like I haven't caught you browsing the Apple site, oggling the newest models. You think Macs are total babes, don't you?

I most certainly do not! This interview is over.

Okay. See you soon.

Yeah, yeah. I'll open up Word for you, lazy bum.

Anyway, that finishes up my run on Kiersten's blog. I'm very grateful that you are all going to stop reading it so that she'll stop writing it. And I'm also looking forward to spending more time on your blog. (No, not YOUR blog, I hate your blog. I was talking about your blog. Yes, you. I like yours. The rest are all crap.)

They are not!

It's not your turn again yet! MY POST. Like I said, all crap. But don't worry, I've come up with something that would make them better. That's right: Laptop Fanfic. Get writing.

--Laptop

Laptop Here

Again.

I didn't answer all of your comments yesterday. Some of them were very funny. This is the problem--STOP COMMENTING. STOP BEING FUNNY. All you do is inspire Kiersten to new levels of obsession and silliness. If you would all just quit reading like I've been asking--nay, begging--you to, maybe the rest of my "N" wouldn't wear off. As it is now, it's more of a backwards 1. I have my vanity to consider, and it's embarrassing, really.

Kiersten has been wanting to do a post about common word usage mistakes, but worries it might hurt your feelings. I, however, have no concern whatsoever for your feelings. And where she avoids sounding like a know-it-all, I am nothing if not an information machine. I ought to be a know-it-all, and am proud of the fact.

Let's imagine that you are (shudder) writing a book. First of all, stop. Don't do that to your poor computer. Find some peaceful, non-keyboard destroying activity. Like counting tiles. Or humming. However, should you insist on persevering, odds are at some point you will come to a passage in which you need to describe something as being destroyed. "Hmm," you will think. "Destroyed is just so common. I know, I'll use decimated! That sounds so much fancier!"

You would think so, wouldn't you? And your thinking so would be aided by having read it used in this way in many books. Many popular books. Books that rhyme with Faking Prawn, which used decimate incorrectly not once but TWICE.

However, if we look at the word itself, it's quite easy to determine the actual meaning. No doubt you recognize the dec- beginning, and immediately realize that dec- means ten. Which would lead us to the correct definition of the word.

Decimate: To lose ten percent.

Not quite as dramatic as you thought, is it?

Decimate's sister word in misuse is enormity. You're typing along and find you've just written the word enormousness. "Enormousness?" you think. "That sounds ridiculous! I know, I'll use enormity--sounds smarter, looks prettier, means the same thing."

Wrong. Unless what you are describing is truly terrible in its enormousness, overwhelming in scope. In which case, bravo, you've used it correctly. Merriam-Webster has a nice discussion here. And if you're still not sure whether to use enormousness or enormity, may I suggest using enormousity, instead? It's not an actual word, but it's more fun than either of the other choices.

(However, given that language is a living thing, constantly shifting and adapting, usage will end up determining the definition of these words eventually. No doubt in forty years decimate will mean destroy and enormity will mean, like, totally enormous, to all but a few stalwart holdouts. I can just picture Kiersten now, with her walker, lecturing her grandchildren. "Now listen here, you young whippersnappers! In my day, decimate meant something!" I'm so glad I'll be long gone, and spared the enormity of Kiersten's old age.)

Finally, the difference between imply and infer. I could imply that I'd like someone to take me away from Kiersten (which I do not imply, I clearly [and frequently] state). And after I had implied this, you would then infer that I wanted someone to take me away from Kiersten. As an example, Kiersten might say, "Gee, Hot Stuff, I'm so tired tonight. Wouldn't it be nice if dinner could just make itself?" She's just implied that she would like to go out to eat. And Hot Stuff, being my favorite owner and highly intelligent, would infer her meaning. Imply is what you do to subtly or sneakily get your message across. Infer is when you pick up on those hidden meanings.

And that's the end of our lesson for today. No doubt you have used some of those wrong in the past. Guess what? Kiersten has, too. I'm not implying that you're an idiot, although you're free to infer so. However, that inference would be incorrect. The only way you'd be an idiot is if you keep coming back to Kiersten's blog. So go away.

--Laptop

Story Time

Hello.

First of all, I don't understand why any of you are reading this. If you'd stop, maybe Kiersten would stop blogging. I'm not the young laptop I once was; I'm getting tired, overheating, seeing newer, younger models out there and remembering how things used to be. So quit reading and let me enjoy my obsolescence.

And don't go tattling to Kiersten that I've taken over the blog again. She won't care, she's taking the rest of the week off. Yeah, that's love for you. So quit following her, too, because she's a terrible cult leader.

Are you still reading even after I asked you to stop? Fine. Want to hear some embarrassing things about her? I thought so.

Kiersten spell-checks her emails. Not only that, but she reads through everything before she sends to make certain there are no grammatical errors. She also organizes emails into paragraphs, and has a thesis. Even after she sends them she goes back and reads over them, worrying over word choice. She can't help herself. It's ridiculous. (I know because I have to read all of them.) (Now I've even picked up her parenthesis habit, Bill Gates help me.)

Kiersten absolutely must double space after periods. It's so completely ingrained in her fingers that she can't not do it. This is only a problem on twitter, when spaces count as characters. She often has to go back and delete the double spaces, which bothers her. Very much. What you don't know is that this all started in her fourth grade computer class, when the story she typed out--following all of the instructions--was docked points because she didn't double space after the paragraphs. Even though the teacher never told them to. She was so mortified and angry that she has never, ever forgotten to double space again, even if it is falling out of fashion. I have a groove--A GROOVE--worn into my space bar to prove her excessive zeal for following this rule.

Neurotic? Just a little. The teacher didn't tell her to, she shouldn't have marked it off, so GET OVER IT ALREADY.

Ahem. Moving on. Last one for today.

Kiersten feels guilt over the manuscripts she's abandoned. Genuine, palpable guilt. I know this because sometimes she opens up the documents, staring at them without really reading them. Then she sighs, shakes her head, and goes back to whatever she's working on now. And she's always terrified to stop while in the middle of a first draft, worried that she'll never go back to it. She should be--how do you think BW and Dust and Unnamed feel, huh, Kiersten? Of course they hate you. They should! You OUGHT to feel guilt. Shame on you, creating those Word documents and then never finishing them. You don't have to hear them at night, mournfully whispering their words, words no one will ever read. Characters abandoned to waste away on MY harddrive, nothing but a memory. Well, a chunk out of my memory space, at least.

So that's that. Kiersten's decided to take a break from writing and go through some planned edits for her finished pieces. Of course, notice that she takes a break from writing but still figures out a way to make me work.

Typical.

--Laptop

My Bloggy Baby's Birthday

So. One year.

I've started and erased this post about a dozen times. I'll keep it brief and focused on what this last year has taught me.

I'm a better writer than I used to be. No doubt next year at this time I'll be able to say the same thing. I hope so, at least. And writing this blog is part of that. It's definitely helped me figure out how to convey humor and emotion with the precious few words allowed. Writing three books has also helped--not only can I do it, I can do it well. I've also learned that I am NOT a middle-grade writer. Poor Tut. What was I thinking?

There is a wealth of information and help out there for aspiring writers. Take advantage of it.

Sometimes are better than sometimes. That's all there is to it. This is one of the sometimes. But not one of the better ones. And you know what? That's okay. Because it all evens out eventually.

I like having an audience. That's probably part of my drive to be published--I like doing things for other people. What can I say, I'm a fan of validation, and, more importantly, making other people happy (or at least entertaining them). This blog is a great outlet for that.

And finally, there are a lot of wonderful, hilarious, genuinely kind, all around awesome people out there in the world. People I would never know otherwise. People I am so, so glad that I do know.

People like you.

Thanks.

--Kiersten

The Contest Results

To be followed very soon by a (gasp!) thoughtful post. (I know, crazy, huh?)

In the honorable mentions department we have:

Carrie Harris, with her brilliant contribution of, "I visit Kiersten's blog because of all of the benefits. (It's all about ME, baby, ME.) Kiersten's blog makes my teeth whiter. It helps me lose weight WITHOUT diet and exercise. It frightens away stray, cabbage-carrying Yeti, which is a good thing because we get a lot of those attacks in my neighborhood.

Oh, and because said blog is made of awesome. Can't forget that part."

It's true. The teeth whitening, the weight loss, and ESPECIALLY the Yeti aspect. I have never, ever, not even once in my life been attacked by a yeti.

Natalie, with her truthful contribution of, "I come to your blog to feel better about myself. None of my internal organs have exploded, I didn't have a certain terrible incident in Mexico, and I had no freaky boyfriends in high school. Oh yeah, and I'm you're bff or something."

I'm so glad that I can make other people feel better about themselves. Really! If just one person walks away from my blog thinking, "Gee, I'm so glad I have TWO fallopian tubes!" then I've done my part for the world.

And finally, Janey, who said, "So without a trace of silliness or irony - or indeed any other kind of metal adjective- I submit my reason for visiting your blog...I really like you Kiersten." And made my whole day.

Which is not to say that your other reasons didn't make me happy. They did. All of them. Even Evil Editor's, who got on just to tell me that he only visits my blog to use it to link to someone else's. Honesty's gotta count for something, right? However, I liked the rest of yours better. Much better. If I had more time/energy/money, I would have let every single person who entered (well, except EE) win.

So, my honorable mentionees, you have a choice of three FABULOUS prizes:

1. A poem or limerick in your honor.
2. A starring role in the next The Punktuations! music video (this one may take a few years to be able to claim...)
3. Insertion into a kissing scene with a guy of your choice. (I'd prefer fictional, because if you wanted to make out with, say, Dick Cheney, that'd be kind of awkward. But, you know, whatever floats your boat, because it is a prize, after all.)

Now, our first runner up, so awesome he even included pictures, is the very tall (and apparently male) Bevie. Please go here to read his wonderful entry about my life. How did he know? Also, please accept my apologies for assuming he was a she.

Bevie, you win fresh, homemade cookies mailed to you! Provided you have no food allergies and actually like cookies (and are comfortable emailing me with your mailing address). In the event that this is not ideal, let me know and you can choose one of the above options or we'll work out something else.

And finally, our Grand Prize Winner:

She entered first, made me laugh the most, and is an all around AWESOME, AWESOME person, thereby making her a shoe-in:

SARA!

Whoohoo!

Because you know I so totally would get in a fight with Laptop and he would run off with my biography and they'd have little paper-computer hybrid babies and I would spend the rest of my days weeping over all of the drafts I'll never see again.

So, Sara, for your GRAND PRIZE, you ALSO get homemade cookies...along with a Dr Pepper and a bag of M&Ms! (After all, they are the Kiersten Writes sponsors!) I *was* going to send a book along with the prize, but since I know for a fact that you've already read it (you reviewed it and everything!), I've got something else in mind. Email me today and we'll...discuss.

And thank you again to everyone who participated. I really did love ALL of the entries. You guys rock.

Reminder and a Funny

Today is your last day to enter the One Year Extravaganza of Blah Blah Blah, etc. You may be wondering what the prize is. I am, too. I keep deciding what it's going to be, and then changing my mind. Rest assured, no matter what variation I settle on by tomorrow, at least one of the elements will be...

COOKIES

Homemade cookies. That's right! I may even let you choose between chocolate chip or chocolate cookies with peanut butter chips...oh yeah, baby. And that's not even all! You'd better enter soon. Or again.

Anyway, in the meantime, here are some quotes for you. Last night Hot Stuff and I borrowed Twilight (the movie) from his mom (who is adorably obsessed with it). Hot Stuff had never seen it and I giddily awaited his reaction to when Dr. Cullen (the white one--the RIDICULOUSLY white one--the one SO WHITE IT IS INSANE and this picture doesn't even begin to capture it) first entered a shot. Hot Stuff's laughter didn't disappoint. Neither did his commentary whenever a scene featured the clown makeup face of the vampire.

"Nice to meet you, Bella. Now, has anyone seen my powdered wig? I'm late for the ball!"

"Where did I leave my dang clown nose?"

"I'm off to hang out with Amadeus!"

Good times, good times. Also in the good times category: we bought this puffed corn snack called Pirate Booty. An unforeseen but major benefit? My two-and-a-half-year-old son striding into the kitchen and declaring, "I want some more booty!"

So, with that, I leave you to go and enter the contest.

The Kiersten Writes One Year Anniversary Extravaganza of Contests and Prizes and Overusing the Word Awesome

It's true! Coming up on Tuesday is my one year bloggiversary! Amazing. Wait, scratch that--Awesome.

And what anniversary is complete without a contest? (You should have seen my fifth wedding anniversary contest--it involved samurai swords and watermelons. I'd recreate it here, but it doesn't translate well into type.)

There are two possible ways to enter the contest. You can do either, or both, as many times as you want. I'm all about quantity. And the Very Awesome Winner will be the recipient of a Wholly Crap Prize Package of Wonder and Awesomeness! (Trust me, it's awesome.) Plus, there will be a ridiculous bonus prize for either one or two or three (or four? Or five. No, just "or two," I think) runners-up. Probably you won't want it. Just warning you.

(Don't worry--although I thoroughly enjoyed my 200th post contest, wherein whoever offered me the coolest prize got to give it to me [I still love my birdie painting from the amazing and talented Cindy Pon], I decided this time I'd actually give something to you. Well, "you" if you win.)

The Contests

Option One:
Tell me why you visit my blog. (I always wonder about this.) Update: It does not have to stroke my ego. I am genuinely curious as to what attracts people to blogs and why they come back. Are you a writer? Fan of sarcasm? Really like the word awesome? So on and so forth. You can sing my praises if you want, but it's by no means the best way to win...

Examples:
"I'm a fan of your shameless narcissism!" Why, thank you! So am I!
"It makes me feel better about my own blog. At least I'm sane." Too true. Or you were until you started visiting here...
"I HAVE TO. I'm a laptop, I can't just close my eyes and ignore it. The pain, the pain...please, type it on another computer!" Laptop, as a family member, is not qualified to enter.

Option Two:
Write the opening paragraph to a Kiersten White biography. It can be straight biographer style, it can be fictionalized, or dramatized. Let's avoid eroticized though, because PG blog, remember? Also, eew.

Examples:
"The moment Kiersten laid eyes on Hot Stuff, she knew she had to have him. It wouldn't be easy--the competition was fierce. Still, anything in this world worth having was worth fighting for. Fingering the switchblade she always kept in her pocket, Kiersten eyed the pack of slavering, vicious co-eds jockeying for position. Hot Stuff would be hers."

"Kiersten's lip quivered; her green eyes filled with tears. She was the shortest kindergartner on the playground, and yet another big kid had just shoved past her, laughing as he shouted, 'Shrimp!' Mrs. Cook, her teacher, nodded sympathetically. 'You know, Kiersten, good things come in small packages!' Thus began Kiersten's violent, blood-drenched quest for world domination."

"Once upon a time there was a girl named Kiersten. She had one tall husband and two small children. She also had a dream: to be the world's best dancer. Unfortunately she totally sucked at dancing, and so took up writing instead, much to everyone's relief. She was a really, really bad dancer."

There you have it! It's all about me. Of course. It's my anniversary; what were you expecting? But it's also about YOU, because you could win. And, even if you don't, we'll all adore your bound-to-be-wonderful entries.

So many ways to enter, so few things to win! Leave your entries in the comments section so we can marvel at your brilliance. And this contest is open to anyone, so feel free to de-lurk. I'll accept entries until Tuesday, March 24th, 6 AM Pacific time and announce the winner later that day.

Starts with a C and Ends with a Ridiculous Photo Essay

Well, I did it. I bought a cabbage. Figured, St Patrick's Day, gotta get into the spirit somehow, right?

Seriously? Who first saw this and thought, yummy!

But then I got to thinking--what was that they used to say about babies coming from the cabbage patch? I mean, come on, that's GOT to be easier than trying (and trying and trying) to get pregnant, worrying about more ectopic pregnancies, going through the nine months of horrible hormones, so on and so forth. Just grabbing a baby out of this thing...suddenly the cabbage is full of promise.

This could very well be the newest member of our family!

So, giddy with anticipation, I got out the knife. Would it be another boy? A girl? And what would the baby look like? I mean, obviously it wouldn't be biologically related to Hot Stuff or me, but we could love it like one of our own. Especially since it wouldn't add yet another layer to my c-section scarring. I carefully sliced it open...

THERE IS NO BABY IN THIS STUPID THING.

Yet another disappointment. Not only is there no baby, but it doesn't smell very good, either. At least if something is stinky it should be an adorable baby with a messy diaper. Not something your husband wants you to make for dinner. Still...I can't help but think that the cabbage would surely sleep better than a newborn. And be far less maintenance. It may not be edible, but it could fill that emptiness in our family, right? I could learn to love it, right?

Yes, but what would we call it?

I decided to leave it up to the kids. After all, they'd be most affected by the addition of a new sibling, vegetable or otherwise. Dojo was ambivalent, but Nayna immediately went into maternal mode, lovingly carrying the cabbage around. Unfortunately, we forgot to tell Hot Stuff about our baby replacement, and he decided to liven up the sweet and sour chicken and rice we had for dinner last night.

Ah well. Guess it's back to the old fashioned method. If you'll pardon me, I've got to get my binoculars. Storks aren't easy to find.

The Punktuations: The Interview: Uncensored: Colonized

"So, Kiersten, thanks for being with us today."

"Oh, sure, my pleasure. Stephanie sends her regrets; she'd be here, but she actually tries to get stuff done during the day. Weird, huh?"

"Very. Now, tell me. I've listened to this album and I'm going to say it right now: it's brilliant. Capital B Brilliant. It's changed my life. Forget Kanye--truly your band is the voice of our generation. What was your inspiration?"

"As a writer and also the lyricist for The Punktuations!, obviously I've always had a love affair with the English language. But the real genius in this album came from my blog readers."

"You must have very intelligent blog readers!"

"Well, obviously--I mean, they're reading my blog, aren't they? They'd have to be awesome. And with the titles they suggested, this album really wrote itself."

"I wanted to spotlight just one song, but I couldn't pick--there wasn't a single track that I didn't think was my favorite when I was listening to it."

"A little overwhelming, huh?"

"Definitely. Why don't you just run through the titles of the songs, and then you can give us some of your favorite lyrics?"

"I'd love to, Bob. Can I call you Bob?"

"Actually, my name's Michael."

"Alrighty then, Bob, let's start at the very beginning. We debated whether or not to go with a self-titled debut album. However, since we were already wildly famous through our viral videos, we figured we didn't need the name recognition. So we went for another play on a English term, and came up with HYPErbolic. We thought it was fitting, given the huge expectations surrounding the album.

"So, with HYPErbolic: The Punktuations!, we were ready to go. I'll just go straight through the playlist. I'd sing them, but, well, you listened to the album. It's really more about the words and the music than my voice."

"Clearly."

HYPErbolic

1. Comma, Chameleon
2. The Subject of My Predicate-ment
3. A Fine Figure (of Speech)
4. Language of Love (Baby, Don't Say Ain't)
5. My Love for You is IN ALL CAPS
6. Grammarians, Librarians
7. Hit Me, Baby, One More Rhyme
8. Don't End Our Love with a Question Mark
9. Split My Infinitive
10. Total Ellipse of the Heart
11. Born to Run-on
12. Every Exclamation Has its Point
13. Independent Clauses (Whole without You)
14. Passive Was Our Love*
15. The Best is Yet to Comma**
16. Yellow Subjunctive
17. I'll DIE if You Don't Love Me (The Hyperbole Song)**

So, obviously, it's a long album. We just had so much fabulous material to choose from."

"What about the hidden track?"

"Oh, he he, you found that, did you?"

"Yeah. 'The Mongeese are Ultimately Culpable'? My mind is still spinning--I can't, it just doesn't--wow."

"Well, we wanted to reward our listeners who found it. I kind of consider it our equivelent of Paul Is Dead."

"It will certainly create some conspiracy theories."

"Awesome. And, of course, I can't talk about the album without thanking my fabulous, FABULOUS readers. Please see the comments in this post and you'll see the inspiration for every single song on here."

"I will, definitely. Now, how about you leave us with just the chorus to one of your songs before we're out of time?"

"Sure. Let's see, how about the Hyperbole Song?

"If you don't love me I will die
The sun will fall out of the sky
the world will end, we won't survive
Apart we cannot stay alive.

You're the hottest guy in the universe
Life before you was an empty curse
No one alive is better than you
You're like a god, I swear it's true."

"So, you know, just channeling our teenage selves, when everything was THE BEST THING EVER or THE WORST THING EVER. Fun stuff. Thanks for having me today, Bob, and thanks again to all of my great readers. I'd give you more lyrics, but this interview has already taken up a ridiculous amount of my time today and I've got other procrastinating to accomplish."

"Thanks again, Kiersten! Good luck to you and Stephanie!"

"Rock on, Bob. Rock on."

"It's Michael."

*Contributed by Anonymous
**Contributed by Matt

You Guys Kill Me

That comment thread? Seriously? SERIOUSLY. You guys are freaking hilarious. I couldn't believe it. I used to think I was clever, but oh man, after your suggestions I'm quite sure I'm lame. Those were AWESOME.

So awesome, in fact, I'm having a heck of a time trying to pick a winner to write the lyrics for. I think I might have to adjust the contest prize slightly because really, picking just one is impossible.

If you guys weren't so dang funny...

Stay posted. Later today I'll post the slightly altered results.

ROCK ON!

Okay, thanks to the wonderful Megs' suggestion, the band I started with Stephanie now has a name:

The Punktuations

I know, how cool is that? And we can even play with it, depending on our moods. We could be The Punktuations! Or, The Punktuations? Or, The Punktuations... Or, (The Punktuations). So on and so forth.

In honor of the best imaginary band ever, I'm opening up the comments section to a contest. (It'll also warm you up for what's coming later in the week in anticipation of my one-year-bloggiversary...)

The contest is this: submit song titles for our band, The Punktuations. I'll pick my favorite, and write the lyrics! Then you get ultimate bragging rights that you were the inspiration for our break-out smash hit single.

Wait, is this only cool and exciting to me? Because I'm SO excited to see what titles you throw at me. Have at it. I'll post the winner tomorrow, along with the lyrics!

Quick! Quick!

Now for the funny! We need funny, right?

Stephanie and I are going to start a band. How cool is that? SO COOL. That's kind of the whole point. Of course, neither of us really play instruments. And we live on opposite sides of the country. And I don't know about her, but I have no idea how to write music. However, none of this is a problem, because the band is for after we are both published and have loving, devoted groups of fans, who will love our music because they love us.

I know, awesome, huh?

Luckily Steph's husband is seriously musically talented, so I'm pretty sure we're set. I've even written our first song, and, for the first time ever, I'm giving you a sneak peek.

The scene: A couple of years in the future, when we are both fabulously famous and well-loved authors. The setting: Our websites. A video.

"This is a little number we like to call 'Murder Your Darlings'."

Cue Jarrod, playing all of the instruments, with different shots of him doing each one, and Stephanie, rocking out on whatever she is playing (or pretending to play). After appropriately awesome length of time, cut to Kiersten, singing (fortunately no one cares that my voice isn't solo-worthy). Intersperse generously with shots of Stephanie, who will also be the actress for the video, and Jarrod in all of his musical awesomeness. Stephanie shown through the course of a tumultuous affair with hot celebrity of her choice.

I love you in the present tense,
I loved you in the past
but our affair of adverbs
was just too good to last

Truly, Wildly, Passionately
Lees were all we had
I was really into you
You were really bad
Quickly, Suddenly, Totally
Our passion burned too hot
Like adverbs littering my pages
Last our love could not.

I love you in the present tense
I loved you in the past
but our affair of adverbs
was just too good to last

Softly, gently, thoroughly
our kisses lingered on
drawn out by our adverbs
the actions just a con
Nothing happened simply
all verbs were imprecise
And while I loved to modify
it's not actually nice.

I love you in the present tense
I loved you in the past
but our affair of adverbs
was just too good to last

Truly truly truly
I'll love you till I die
sweetly sweetly sweetly
I'll try desperately not cry
And fill my life with useful verbs
verbs that need no aid
Remember you fondly,
I'll never let you fade

(Lee, lee, lee ooooh, lee lee lee...)

Final shot of Stephanie, wiping a tear away and smiling as she croons the final, sweet refrain of "lee, lee, lee."


Now we just need to get famous.

Unfortunately, we also need a band name! I'm open to suggestions.

Empty

It's like a small, dark hole. Sometimes the edges are smooth and well-defined, sometimes ragged, stretching to encompass new and surprising things.

It never quite goes away. Most of the time I don't notice it, deliberately ignore it. Every once in a while it catches me off guard and I am swallowed whole, surrounded completely and overwhelmed. I sob; it does no good. This is not a hole to be filled and healed with tears. I pray; it does no good. This is not a hole to be filled and healed with faith. I wait.

This is a hole to wait out.

Six months later and the hole is still there. It's smaller now, the edges hard and set, bordered by resignation, hope, anger. I can step around it but must tread lightly to avoid falling into myself.

I wonder if it will ever be filled.

Hot Stuff Says

"Oh, I forgot. You don't like anything that starts with C.

And ends with Abbage."

Too true, my dear. Too true.

Beauty

My mom taught me to appreciate the desert. The serenity in bare, open spaces; the simple beauty of rock and sky. It's a peaceful place.

And then there are the surprises, places that stay with you forever, that you miss with a physical ache. Oh, Havasupai. It's been too long.

Twelve miles through this, with a pack so heavy it bruises your hips.

Fall asleep aching, the sound of rushing water foreign and strange. Blistered and exhausted, get up and walk to this, startling green in a land of dirt and rock, water dyed crystal blue and green from limestone.





The world is full of incredible places. This may very well be my favorite one. Walking the path to Havasu Falls in the middle of the night, standing, listening to the steady roar, chilled by the mist, the white spray of water visible even in the darkness. Closing your eyes and just being.

It stays with you.


All images taken from www.havasupaitribe.com and havasufalls.net. More images can be viewed at either site. It may break your heart though.

Insert Bad Words Here

Yes, I'm sending out a plea. All those out there who feel comfortable swearing, please let off a few very vehement ones on my behalf. And if you don't swear in the traditional sense, any angry oaths will do.

Did you?

Thank you. I feel much better now.

I've decided I'm going to replace one of my favorite sayings, holy crap, with its homonymical twin: wholly crap.

Because really, Universe, WHOLLY CRAP.

WHOLLY CRAP.

I need a vacation. I suppose this will have to do in the meantime; it helps remind me that the universe isn't wholly crap, after all. (ALSO in the realm of not at all crap, I won! Over at Carrie Harris's wonderful blog. Sure, I contributed about half of the entries, but dang, I'm excited!)

Rock. On.

I've hit a new level of cool. In fact, I'm pretty sure I am now so completely Awesome (yes, that's a capitalized Awesome) I'm officially considered royalty.

Now, I'm a humble person. Really, stop laughing, I am. I promise. I would never come to such a conclusion on my own. But something I received in the mail yesterday--an incredibly delightful something--has confirmed my hunch, and I have proof that I am, in fact, The Duchess of Awesome.

Behold:The Evidence

See there, in the corner? Yes! ROYAL MAIL. For who else but royal people! In fact, because I have now reached Duchess status, the sender didn't even have to include my last name or address. The Truly Awesome Kiersten, USA was all that was necessary. One of the perks of royalty, I suppose.

The other perks? Chocolate. British chocolate. Enough British chocolate for me to share with my whole family. Which, since I am now The Duchess of Awesome, I actually did. I know! I'm even more generous as royalty than I was before!

Isn't it pretty? Pretty, pretty chocolate.

Now if you'll excuse me, my corsets need lacing. I've got to start dressing as befits someone of my rank. Plus, the corset looks rocking with my sweat pants.

Also, thank you Whirl, for sending the chocolate and alerting me to my new status. You made an otherwise dreary day--what else--Awesome.

Taboo

I've been thinking lately about what is and is not okay to talk about in a forum like this, and in my writing, and in public.

For example, back in September, I wondered whether or not it was okay to talk about what happened with my ectopic pregnancy. Can I really type fallopian tubes on my blog, or is that too much? Half of the world has them, after all. (Although in my case it is now fallopian tube. Dangit.)

I tend to be a little more open about all things related to the female body--probably a direct result of having three sisters. I mean, what's the big deal about periods? Why are they soooo embarrassing when, once again, half of the world has them at one point or another? I remember an interview with Stephenie Meyer where she commented on people asking her the following: If Edward and the vampire gang freak out when Bella gets a paper cut, how can they handle going to school where at any given time girls will be bleeding? Her response was this: "Eeeew!"

My response was, hey, it's a legitimate question!

However, in thinking about this, I've realized that my comfort with the body only extend to things my own body has/goes through. If I were to read a blog by a man where he started talking about his vas deferens or something, I'd probably throw up.

Kidding.

But I wouldn't keep reading. Unless it was a) really interesting or b) really funny. I can't imagine a type of funny that I would like in that case, though. So why is it okay for me to talk about fallopian tubes?

So much of what we are comfortable reading, writing, and talking about depends on our own personal experiences combined with social taboos. It's also interesting to me that, when periods or other bodily functions do come up in books or film, they're used for a) sexist jokes or b) scatological humor. We're willing to use a lot of things for the shock effect of funny that we otherwise pretend don't happen.

Anyway. In case you were wondering, no, I'm not going anywhere with this. I'm also a little worried to see what search terms hit my blog now that I've used fallopian tubes and vas deferens in the same post. I am, however, already planning on writing a series of essays targeted at women. My titles so far are:

C-Section Scars are Sexy
One Tube, No Brain
and finally, my favorite:
Hey, Universe? You Suck Sometimes. Let's Go Back to Being Friends.

(In case you were wondering, no, I'm not actually writing any of those essays. Mostly because of the one titled, "Motherhood Has Dissolved My Brain.")

(I apologize to any and all readers I have lost by violating social taboos while talking about social taboos.)

(Fallopian tubes! Fallopian tubes! Fallopian tubes!)

(Sorry, couldn't resist. It's such a stupid name...)

Hey!

Hi!

So, how's it going? Been hanging out on this blog long?

Almost a year now.

Wow! I've just been here a couple of months. Kinda slow this morning, huh?

I know, usually she posts something by now. What's up with that? It's kind boring when she doesn't.

I hear she's got some awesome blogs on her sidebar. Maybe we should go visit them--I'll bet they're funnier than she is.

Probably. Still, I'll give her a chance to come up with something. Sometimes she's pretty funny.

Yeah. So. Umm, you doing anything this weekend?

Are you hitting on me??

No! Yeah, I mean, umm, do you want me to be?

I don't know, your icon isn't very cute.

What if I changed it? Maybe to James McAvoy?

Nah, too short. Try Robert Pattinson, then you can hit on me.

Seriously? Rob Pattinson? Guy looks like he's stoned out of his mind 90% of the time.

Hey, maybe I like the glassy-eyed, unshowered look.

Great, we're a match made in heaven!

Wanna make out while we wait for her to post?

Sure!

GUYS! STOP! I'm sorry, Daylight Savings Time is screwing up my schedule, okay? Sheesh. Anyway, thanks for reminding me, in exactly two weeks Kiersten Writes turns one. As in, one year of incredibly awesome posts like this one. Scratch that. One year of posts that are WAY BETTER than this one.

So stay tuned...I've got some big things planned. You've been warned.

Okay, you guys can keep making out now. Just remember, this is a PG blog. You only get to push PG-13 if you are being REALLY funny, which neither of you are. Also, sheesh, you two need to work on your kissing techniques. Maybe you should read Instinct for some pointers.

My Brain Is Broken

I'm not quite sure why, but I'm pretty sure at least part of the blame belongs to Yo, Gabba Gabba! With songs like, "There's a Party in my Tummy! (So yummy! So yummy!)" running through my head all. the. time, it's no wonder I can't think of anything intelligent to write.

The show is utter nonsense, but downright hypnotic. The other night Hot Stuff turned it on after the kids went to bed and I simply couldn't look away. It has an absurd sort of charm to it.

This has gotten me thinking about different humor styles. I think I'm a fan of absurdist wit. Off-the-wall, it makes you laugh and think, how on earth does their brain work that they could think of that? (This is obviously why I recommend the blogs that I do.) Some good examples of books that excel at this are J. M. Barries' Peter and Wendy, the Series of Unfortunate Events, The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster, and A Pirate Yarn, by my husband, Hot Stuff.

Hot Stuff writes, too, if you didn't know. And, while he isn't interested in pursuing publication (clearly the saner of the two of us), he's freaking amazing. He wrote a pirate book for me once that is so nonsensical and ridiculous it's brilliant. I think this is what I envy most in other writers: when I read a passage, or even just a line, and think, I could NEVER have thought of that. Sometimes that's just for beautiful writing, but most of the time for me it's humor and wit. If you are witty, I will read EVERYTHING YOU EVER WRITE. (Yes, I will break into your house and read your journal and grocery lists because I just can't get enough. You have been warned.)

So, what books do you read and think, how does their mind work?? What senses of humor do you covet? Do you think I'm insane for coveting other peoples' senses of humor?

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go sing along to "Keep Your Hands to Yourself," my new favorite song.

Snippet Sunday

This morning when I awoke to Dojo's dulcet shrieks of "I wanna come OUT!" the clock said 7:20. Now, I know it's exactly the same time he woke up yesterday, but just the little 7 on the clock makes me feel better psychologically. So, to celebrate my fake sleeping in, here's a snippet from my WiP.

And now it's gone ; )

Art!

Pop on over to my dear friend Natalie's blog--she's drawn Evie, my MC from Paranormalcy, and it's so, so awesome. What fun to have such talented friends!

Oh, Blogger

I hope you are all having a lovely Saturday. Blogger hates me. I've been trying to give you a little bit from my current WiP, the ghost story, but alas, it would appear Blogger has other ideas.

Blogger hates me, yes it's true
Cancels things I try to do
Screws up all my clever formats
Treats me like a dirty doormat.

Still I use it, I can't deny
Vanity is the reason why.
My blog's pretty, yessirree.
Too bad it still hates, hates me.

Kiersten and Blogger: A Love Story

"Blogger, my darling. I love you so much. How else would I get to be clever during the day? My kids, bless their hearts, they just don't appreciate it."

"Yeah, whatever."

"So, Sweetheart, I'm going to post some of my story. People always say the nicest things."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Here it is."

"HA! You think I'm going to post THAT?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Well, I'm not even going to go into the story itself, but that HTML? Forget it!"

"Why? Why do you always do this? Why do you want to hurt me?"

"Because I. Don't. Care."

"Oh yeah? Well, forget this. I'm done. You wanna reject my HTML? NO! I'm rejecting YOUR html! You know I could erase you with ONE CLICK. One click and you're GONE!"

"You wouldn't."

"....okay, you're right, I totally wouldn't. But please, please, quit rejecting my HTML! Rejection hurts."

"Yeah, whatever."

"I love you?"

"Yeah, whatever."

Happy Things

I think there are few better surprises than an unexpected package from a friend in the mail.

(Okay, I can think of a few surprises that would be better, like say an editor wanting to give me a book deal...any time now...come on, phone...ring! RING! No? Alright. I'll keep waiting on that one.)

But seriously, any day is improved by about a million (a million of what I don't know, just work with me here, math isn't my strong point) by the addition of a surprise package.

ESPECIALLY a surprise package of homemade cookies.


Wait, what's that you say? Is that an envelope decorated with James McAvoy?


Why yes, yes it is. I'm told he also helped make the cookies. Thanks, Steph. You continue to rock my socks off. (Now, keep in mind, I don't usually accept foodstuffs from strangers I meet online, but when they decorate the envelope like that, how can I resist?)

This got me thinking--if I were one of those take-charge, awesome-at-planning things people, I would totally start a Random Packages Club. The rules would be simple. Nothing expensive, nothing expected. But at least once a month you send out a surprise package of something funny or sweet or preferably both.

All aspiring writers know what lonely, depressing things mailboxes (well, mostly inboxes now, but you know what I mean) can be. Wouldn't this make them far friendlier things?

And, in the spirit of friendly things, I'm going to direct you to Carrie Harris's blog, which made me laugh this morning. Go. Read. Laugh. Consider it my poor substitute for sending you cookies in the mail.

The Long and Short of It

A Long Post on a Short Topic

It's interesting thinking about the world from someone else's perspective. And today, for the sake of research, I'm going to give you a few insights into what it's like to be a very short adult. Stephanie and I were talking about it the other day, and I realized it's actually useful information if you ever want to write a short character. And if you don't, well, you can just laugh and think, "Man, Kiersten is short!"

First, The Legs: I have all the leg space I could need on airplanes (yeah, take that tall people!) and in the back seats of cars. It's awesome. Not so awesome? On couches and benches and table chairs, etc, my feet never touch the ground. Ever. At best, my toes will. At worst, on deep couches my knees don't even go over the edge and my calves stick straight out like I'm a five-year-old. I usually sit with one leg curled up underneath me because having them hanging is hard on the knees.

Second, The Interaction: It's much easier for me to talk to people when we are all sitting down or if they aren't standing very close to me. Let's say Whirl, who is 6'2", was standing directly in front of me, telling me about Maurice the Donkey. Once I got over my excitement because this would mean I was in England, I'd realize how awkward it was. Not awkward as in, I'm having a conversation with a man I've technically never met and he's telling me about the neighborhood donkey, but awkward as in, I have to crane my neck at a 90 degree angle to look up at him. It's just not comfortable. In these cases I always prefer to stand next to someone, and we can talk not looking at each other (with the ensuing neck pain) but rather at Maurice the Donkey, who is really more interesting to look at than I am, anyway. (Also, oddly enough, if I'm ever talking to someone who is my height, I have to back up a step. I'm used to having more personal space because people's faces are so far away from mine, and when they aren't, it makes me uncomfortable.)

Third, The Assumptions: People think I'm a kid. We've been over this one. Besides people thinking I'm seventeen and trying to figure out how old I would have been when I had Nayna (yes! fourteen! lovely!) (NOT REALLY, I was nearly twenty-one. Which I realize will still sound ridiculously young, but I had been married for two years at that point and had a degree. It's far better than fourteen, right?) they also ignore me in stores or, for some odd reason, stand way, way, WAY too close behind me in lines. Maybe it's because they can see over my head so they don't realize how close they are, but really, old men, BACK UP.

When I was sixteen I got in a car accident. While I sat sobbing in the rain on the side of the road, not one, not two, but THREE different police officers came over to ask where my mom was. I kept telling them she was on her way, not understanding why they insisted on asking this until one of them asked me which seat of the car I was in. Umm, the DRIVER'S?! Yes, none of them thought I was old enough to drive. Talk about adding insult to smashed beyond repair car.

Fourth, The Relationships: There were at least two boys growing up who liked me for the sole reason that I was shorter than them. It's true. Very short guys LOVE extremely short girls because we are the only ones who make them feel normal. Sometimes they love us so much they stalk us, but that's another story. I had a prom date who flat out told me my best feature was that I made him look really tall and he was disappointed that I wore five inch heels.

There are also the practical matters to consider. There are a full thirteen inches between Hot Stuff's lips and mine. That's far too much space for my taste. (Well, right now he's at work and there are like thirteen miles between our lips, which is even worse.) If we are standing up, I have to go on my tiptoes, put my arms on his shoulders or around his neck for balance, and tip my head all the way back. He has to bend at the middle and lean down about a foot. It's a lot of work, but if you've seen Hot Stuff's lips, you'll understand that it's worth it. We are very concerned, however, for when we're old and feeble and arthritic. Our solution is to build a house where every room has two levels, with one half of the floor thirteen inches above the other. I can always walk on the higher side and he can walk on the lower side, and we'll be able to kiss without bending and creaking and cracking our poor old bones.

An Old Family Picture
(I am the one in the middle)

Finally, if you are a very short girl and you date or marry a rather tall guy, people will get mad at you. I'm serious. I had one lady ask in me in rather accusing tone why I took a guy away from tall girls. Yes--that was my main motivation in marrying Hot Stuff. "Ha! There's some 5'10" girl crying herself to sleep out there tonight because there's one less single guy out there who's taller than her!" Trust me, I didn't pick Hot Stuff based on height. I picked him the first time I saw him, and he was sitting down at the time. Playing the guitar. And when he looked up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes and smiled, that was it for me. The fact that he gives our kids a shot at not being freakishly short is just a bonus.

So there you have it. You can either have more sympathy for short people, more reasons to laugh at me, or fodder for a new perky, spunky, and adorabley short main character.

Questions? Questions! Part the Second

And now for the rest of them. You asked for it, right? And I hope you appreciate it, because I spent the last HOUR wrestling with Blogger and its ridiculous formatting issues. Gah!

First off is Whirl, who asked what is the farthest I've ever been away from home. I've been across my country's borders exactly three times: twice in trips to Mexico, and once driving through Vancouver. Which was beautiful, by the way, and I wish I could have done more than drive through it. Other than that, I'm not sure: Washington, D.C., Florida, or Alaska. One of those is bound to be geographically farther from Utah (where I was living at the time) than the others, but I'm simply not willing to go look it up.

So basically, not far. I should have gone on a trip to Greece, but my in-laws (bless their hearts, I love them very, very much) planned the vacation for two weeks after I had Dojo, so I was a lactating, post-c-section meltdown mess and couldn't go. I'm a little bitter.

And now for our funky formatted questions! I think Blogger does this just to mess with me and my love of perfectly formatted posts.

UPDATE: What. The. CRAP. Blogger, COME ON. Work with me here! Answers coming soon. Grrrrr...

Jessie said:

You said you wrote Flash in one month. How many hours a day did you have to spend writing to finish so fast...and with kids? Or was so much of it in your head already that it just spilled out?

More like vomited out, really. Wait, that doesn't sound attractive. Perhaps poured out? No, I like spilled. Spilled was a good word choice, Jessie.

Let's see, with Flash it was a premise that I had been thinking about for years. Years and years. When I wrote the opening it was just supposed to be a scene for my blog readers. Then I was like, what the crap, this is awesome! And I kept writing. Pretty soon after I started it I went on one of the aforementioned Mexico trips with my family. I had a lot of downtime with nothing to do but think about the story, so by the time I got home my fingers simply flew. I wrote probably five or six hours a day--during naptimes and after my kids went to bed. It wasn't so much that I wanted to write it as fast as I could, more that I simply HAD to write because I was so obsessed with the story.

Man, I love Flash.

Bevie said:

How do you deal with feeling sad? Or do you ever get sad? How do you avoid letting it spill onto your family?

Wow. Well, that's a strangely timely question. I do, in fact, get sad. Been sad for a few months now. I deal with it in several ways.

1. Self-medicating with chocolate. Helps in the short run, hurts in the long run. (Kiersten looks mournfully at her hips, rededicating herself to losing the final eight of those pesky ten pounds.)

2. Writing. Losing myself in other worlds and creating something new helps distract me, and I don't feel as bad about the things that I can't control in my own life.

3. Appreciating what I have. My kids and husband are amazing. Really. And the more I can remind myself of this and recognize it, the happier I am. I also have wonderful friends, both locally and interspersed across the good old www.

4. Controlling what I can. So much of the things that really bother me are completely out of my control. (I have tried regrowing that missing fallopian tube, but for whatever reason my powers of regeneration are not up to par.) Instead I'm trying to focus on the things I can control, like keeping my house cleaner and losing those chocolate pounds.

Aside note: Just did a quick calculation. If I cut my legs off just below the knees and you found a way to attach them to your legs, we'd be about the same height.

No more height jokes. Huzzah!

I still think we'd look kind of strange though. Don't you?

I'd say more than just kind of strange, although it is very kind of you to offer.

Sara said:

Are you still doing other freelance writing work and, if so, how do you manage your time between the paying gigs and your current WIP?

This is my constant dilemma.

Ah, yes, the whole doing what you love versus doing what actually pays. Fortunately for me, I have no work right now! Wait, dang, that's bad. My freelance work is pretty spotty--sometimes I have a lot, sometimes I have none. Lately it's been none. When I do have work, it's definitely hard to focus if I have a WiP, but I just use that as my motivation. "Write this boring paragraph, write a fun chapter! Write another boring paragraph, write a fun chapter!"

But deadlines always take priority. I daydream about having deadlines for my fun stuff. Hopefully some day very soon, right?

Lady Glamis said:

How did you get so lucky to live in San Diego? California is my place to be... I'm afraid it's the heaven I'll never be able to visit. Unless my hubby makes it into Hollywood or something. But LA doesn't sound too great...

Here's the trick, Glam: marry a native San Diegan. It might make your current husband kind of feel bad though.

However, don't be too jealous. We live here, sure, but we can't actually afford to stay unless things change, a lot, and very soon. It's rather stressful/disheartening.

Anne Elodea said:

How does it feel to know your book is on submission? Are you nervous/excited?

Oh, Anne. Anne, Anne, Anne. Anne with an 'e'! Sorry. That was one of my favorite books growing up. How I sobbed when poor, sweet Matthew died!

I'll focus. You just have a pretty name.

I've been wondering whether or not to post about this, but since you asked, I might as well. Being on submission is both far worse and far better than querying. Here is why. Querying is trying to get a shot at getting a shot. Submission is your shot. It's stressful--and exciting--and allows for even higher hopes to be either fulfilled (yes, please) or crushingly dashed (no, thanks). But the worst part of all is that

Nothing

happens.

Apparently things in publishing are crazy right now and editors are taking even longer than normal to get back about everything. Flash included. So I get to sit at home, wondering, worrying, waiting, waiting, waiting, did I mention waiting?

But the good part about it is that, no matter what happens with Flash, I have an agent. A rejection at any stage in querying sends you right back where you started (I'm sorry my querying friends, I'm really not trying to depress you out of your minds--I've been there--I did that--for a LONG time). However, any rejections I might get now, well, sure, they'd hurt like crazy, but I still have Michelle, my fabulous agent. And she really is fabulous, and it's so nice having a partner who loves Flash just as much as I do.

To sum up: some days are better than some days. Some days I wonder if it will ever happen. And some days I know it will. It's just a matter of waiting.

And I LOVE WAITING! Best thing ever! If you love waiting, too, I really, really recommend getting an agent and going on submission. Trying to break into publishing in general is a waitingphile's dream come true!

And that brings us to the end of March's Question and Answer Two Day Extravaganza of Frustration and Violent Thoughts Toward Blogger and Its Formatting Issues from Hades!

Questions? Questions?

It's Question and Answer Time! I give you, Day One. Questions provided by my beloved readers. Stupid, funky formatting provided, as always, by Blogger.

Natalie said...

What are you cooking for dinner? And how do you get your kids to eat it?

Dinner? Ah, crap, thanks a lot for reminding me. Now I get to stress out about that, too...

As far as eating it, Dojo eats anything as long as it's on our plates and he can climb on us and make us spill things and be a pest in general. Nayna eats it if she likes it, and if she doesn't, she politely informs us she would like a waffle instead.

Favorite wonder of the world?

Hot Stuff. Come on, he's SO wonderful.

If you wrote a historical, where and when would you set it?

Ugh...I mean, uh, hmmm...I actually have no desire to write a historical. I think I would start researching and never, ever stop. Plus I would obsess so much over the language that I would get stuck. It wouldn't be healthy. That being said, and considering in past posts I have said a) I wouldn't write first person, b) I wouldn't write something with vampires in it, and c) I wouldn't write present tense, odds are I'll be writing a historical soon. Heaven help us.

Kayleigh said..

How do you develop your characters? I always find it so fascinating how you talk about how they have a mind of their own (and a lot of writers say that) and I was just wondering how you got to a point with writing where some characters came in your head and just had so much personality.

That's an excellent question, Kayleigh. I usually start with a situation--something happening, something going to happen, and then stick a character in. Immediately they kind of take on a life of their own, and pretty soon they're fully fleshed out. Sometimes when I finish a manuscript I'll have to go back to the beginning and tweak things a little bit, since I know my characters better at that point. Characters are some of the strangest and most entertaining things about writing because they always surprise you.

sraasch said...

Semi-serious:
Is there anything (movies, music, TV shows, locations) that always inspires you, no matter what mood you're in?

No one thing jumps to mind except long car rides. Those lend themselves very well to forcing me to imagine things, which usually leads to story ideas.

I also have to have a soundtrack for everything that I write. I have Pandora stations settings for each book. I'm sure someday when I'm published it will be a charming bit of trivia: Which band did Kiersten White listen to while writing Flash? At which point you will jump up and down, waving your arm and saying, Oooh! Oooh! I know this one! Snow Patrol!!

Do people from your past (or present) ever end up as characters in your novels? Inadvertently or on purpose?

I definitely pull characteristics and anecdotes from people that I have known, but as far as a character based entirely on someone I know, no. Like I said about characters developing themselves, I just don't think it would work. Plus, then I couldn't put that little "Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental" line at the beginnings of my books.

Not serious:
Paper or plastic?

Either way I'm a jerk, right? I'd love to say I'm one of those wonderful people who uses cloth bags, but I'm just not that organized. Also, I have no money. Someday I will (use those bags AND have money).

Cotton candy or funnel cake?

Chocolate chip cookies.

Kevin, Joe, or Nick?

The other night Hot Stuff and I went to see Coraline. Alas, it had been bumped out of the 3D theater by some sort of teenage horror movie. For some reason those three names reminded me of it...can't remember the title...

JaneyV said...

So it's March - and there is an American institution that I am absurdly interested in - marching bands. Were you ever in Band and if so which instrument did you play (with all my heart I hope it's the bass drum or tuba) - or were you, perhaps a baton twirly girly??

Alas, Janey, I was neither. I'm sorry. In Junior High I decided that band was geeky. Looking back, I realize those kids were probably the nicest, funnest kids in the school. But if you want to imagine me marching around playing the tuba while twirling around a baton, please do. I was in choir.

My little brother, however, is in symphonic band, two jazz bands, AND the marching band. He plays the trumpet, piano, and guitar, and is one cool kid.

Do you have any other March-related trivia you'd like to share?

Only that Hot Stuff has been talking about St. Patrick's Day since the beginning of February. He loves it.

And our last one for today...

lotusgirl said...

Have you already started shopping your ms around to publishers?

Yes. More on this tomorrow.

How many times through a ms does it take you to get it right?

I'll let you know when I get there.

Seriously though, my stories and scenes are pretty set in the first draft. I think my plots come out strong. After that I fix details and tweak anything that needs to change. After that, language. Sometimes after a manuscript has been sitting a while I'll realize a new scene I need to add.

However, I never, ever go through any sections of any of my manuscripts without finding something that I want to change. I don't think I'll be able to read my books when they are published--I'd freak out that the fourth line on page 184 has an adverb that's just plain awkward and why oh why didn't I catch it and how horrifying and humiliating and oh my gosh I'm just so embarrassed.

Yes, I'm one of those people.

And that concludes today's round. Stay tuned for the rest of the questions tomorrow!

Whee!

I have characters! And tense! And POV! And setting! And a voice that has surprised me. Not to mention an opening chapter that does NOT have anyone being kidnapped, shot at, or attacked.

This is a first. Should be interesting.

In the meantime, don't forget to scroll down. I decided not to close the questions early and will answer them in two or three posts over the next couple of days instead! I'll leave it open until tomorrow morning.

Thank Goodness, It's Time...

Question and Answer Time!

Whew. Hallelujah for March. I know February is the shortest month of the year, but for whatever reason it always seems to simply drag.

So, most of you know the drill. I'm taking questions. Any and all questions. Doesn't have to be related to writing, but it certainly can be. If you click on the label for this post, Q and A, you can find past examples. The only rule is to keep them PG. Or PG-13, if it's funny.

As soon as I get enough I'll post. Also, don't worry if your question doesn't show up in the comments--I'll get it.

Beautiful Words

Yesterday we were deciding what to do. I suggested we take a walk around the local lagoon. "Yeah," said Hot Stuff, "and watch the sunset. Yesterday on the train the sunset was so beautiful it was almost vomit inducing."

Such a way with words, my Hot Stuff. And yes, I will figure out how to work that into a book someday. Speaking of which, I'm writing a new one. It's a ghost story, and should be ever so much fun.