It's About That Time....Universe?

So updates in my life:

1) I am now the proud owner of a GPS for my car...which makes me squeee because getting lost is not fun and it's not really something I used to be prone to--I used to kick butt at figuring out how to get places--and like a guy, I refuse to stop for directions--but something happened to me when I turned 26 and a half...I'm not kidding, I lost my sense of direction. I hit that half way mark in the year and my direction was gone!

2) I'm the proud owner of a GPS because it's almost my birthday...Tuesday actually :-) The same as Dr. Seuss which makes me happy in all kinds of ways.

3) In honor of my birthday I'll be announcing the winner of my totally awesome Linger contest. You all did amazing with the entries and I promise you that Edward Cullen did not win. Sorry!

4) I hit 400 followers!!! OMG! OMG! OMG! So stay tuned for another amazing contest...trust me, I have more up my sleeve.

5) I'm almost ready to enter Query Wars!!! Almost...but not quite...BUT it is about time I made my deal with the Universe for what crazy insane thing I'm going to do when I'm represented.

EEEEK!

In case you don't know....I made this insane deal with the Universe a little while back about what I'll do when I get a book deal....or a two-book deal....or a three-book deal. Because I'm insane. Check out the post HERE!

But it basically involves remaking Shakira's Whenever, Wherever video (don't worry I'm a belly dancer) and...maybe...Britney Spears' Hit Me Baby One More Time and please please no and maybe but probably not Jessica Simpson's These Boots are Made for Walking....please don't let me get a three book deal. I don't know what I'll do if I have to wash my car in a bikini.

Anyway....

You might be wondering why someone would actually do something like that...and the answer is because for some reason I decided to let my blog readers pick my deal (see I told you it was fun here).

You might also think I learned my lesson by now HELLO--Jessica Simpson--but I haven't.

So....I'm leaving it up to you guys...comment and discuss what you think my next deal needs to involve for when I'm shiny and agented.

Now...I need to run and hide.

In Which I Call Out Disney

It has come to my attention that the Disney channel has (on top of other small crimes) decided to completely reinvent a classic children's novel (HORRORS) but more importantly...completely steal my idea of Blog Wars!! I mean HELLO---it was so my idea first...and maybe Shannon's but irregardless...make no mistake Disney! Blog Wars started right here!

Let's examine the trailer now, shall we?



Now obviously this is wrong on many levels. For one....Harriet was not in high school! Two...the story was about growing up and learning what to do with information you find and friendship and love and maturity blah blah blah....I don't see any of those lessons here in that trailer.

And THREE: Clearly if a movie is going to be made about Blog Wars, it's going to have to star me and Shannon. Duh, Disney!

So I think the movie would roll like this:

Opening scene of beautiful, awesome Philadelphia....cut to...oh wait...I totally have footage for the opening scene right here!


Yeah, so cut to me typing on my lap top, putting up a blog....

Then cut to sunny California which is not as awesome as Philadelphia nice and then Shannon is typing at her computer, putting up a blog, probably wearing a big sombrero because she's shy and wants to hide her face and then....

Cut back to me, laughing, because I just dared her to do something crazy like this!

Then there are probably a bunch of random scenes that involve typing and buying printer ink and scheming, an NSYNC concert and a random romance between me and Orlando Bloom....and oh yeah, a few more scenes with Shannon typing under her sombrero and then....we put the Blog Wars behind us and reunite against the forces of darkness at a Hannah Montana concert.

But then just before the credits roll, I post another dare, because...face it... a movie this good would definitely require a sequel.

Ok....in all seriousness, I blame the above post on the fact that line editing is making me a little loopy and Harriet the Spy was one of my favorite books as a kid, I totally kept a notebook like she did for awhile and I loved the movie with Michelle Tratchenberg and Rosie O'Donnell like a hundred years ago....or something.

What do you guys think about updating this classic?

Short Story Week: Yellow, Part 4

Ok here we go, the final chapter of Yellow---thanks so much everyone for following along and commenting--my 15 year old self really appreciates that ;)

In case you missed, here's PART 1, PART 2, PART 3.

That weekend, Lacey left her house for the mall. She wanted to buy a new dress for her anniversary date with Simon. Without even realizing it, she brought a yellow dress with capped sleeves. When she took it home to show her grandmother, she was shocked at her reaction.


“But Lacey, it’s a yellow dress. You hate yellow!”

“No…I’m not sure I do anymore,” she said.

“We have too much yellow in this house! Those roses have got to go!”

“Don’t touch them.” Lacey looked up at her mother’s picture wondering if she had found it so impossible to be raised by this woman.

“Always looking at that picture when you know you can catch a chill in this foyer,” she shook her head. “Come away.”

“Grandma,” Lacey said, clutching her dress bag. “Why is this the only picture of Mom in the house. She was your daughter. Aren’t there more?”

“No,” she said, a harsh edge in her voice.

“But why?”

“Because I have you. I’ve had to raise you and you look exactly like her. What other reminder could I need? Could I stand?”

“I…I don’t know.” Lacey ran up to her room and threw herself on the bed. Tears streamed down her face and when her grandmother knocked on the door, she threw a vase of roses at it.

“Lacey!” she said opening the door. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her heart beating hard enough to bruise her ribs. “I just feel so angry.”

“It’s these damned roses! The color yellow…it upsets you, and a yellow rose--that’s much worse!”

“Why do the yellow roses upset you?” Lacey asked.

“Your father used to give your mother yellow roses, back when he was courting her,” she said. She had a blank look in her eyes like the harsh words between them had not been spoken.

“He did?”

“Yes, Rachel,” she said.

“Grandma…I’m Lacey.” She looked down now. It had been years since her grandmother had called her by her mother’s name.

“I need to go,” her grandmother said, and slammed the door.

A rage broke through Lacey as she stared at the broken vase by her door, and all of the roses strewn across the floor. She didn’t know what came over her, but Lacey found herself tearing the petals from the roses all over her room. Pulling petals apart and snapping stems, she unleashed a hurricane of yellow in her room. When no single yellow rose could be found in tact, Lacey collapsed on her floor, on a bed of yellow.

Exhaustion took her immediately into a dream. She could see herself now, five years old, wearing shiny black shoes and a black and white polka dotted party dress. She was walking down a long corridor past all of these grown-ups she had never seen before. No one would make eye contact with her, no one seemed to notice she existed at all. Then the hallway cleared and she was walking alone, trying to find out where everyone had gone. She came upon two tall double doors. One was opened and when she looked in, she could see two coffins, both covered with yellow roses, her parents favorite flower before they died.

A pair of strong hands with long fingernails that dug into Lacey’s skin scooped her up instantly, took her outside, and closed the large double door behind her.

Lacey had been kept from her parent’s funeral.

She woke with a start, yellow petals stuck in her hair, and a few plastered by sweat to her cheek. She had never remembered that day, nor those yellow roses, but she did now. And she understood.

Lacey fixed her hair and put on her new yellow dress. She no longer disliked the color, in fact she thought it suited her quite perfectly. She walked down the stairs to find her grandmother sitting alone in the living with all of the lights out.

“I’m sorry about before, Lacey.”

Lacey held up a hand to stop her. “I remember, Grandma. I remember everything about that day, about the funeral.”

“Lacey, I…”

“Stop. I can’t talk to you now. It’s too soon. I need to go.”

“Is Simon here?”

“No, I’ve got somewhere else I need to be. When Simon comes, tell him to go home.” And without another word, she left the house, crossed from her yard to the next and rang the bell.

Aaron answered the door and smiled.

“You knew,” she said, “you knew all along.”

“Yeah.” He smiled and extended his arm to invite her in.

The End

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. We'll now return to our regularly scheduled blogging.

Short Story Week: Yellow, Part 3

Here's PART 1 and PART 2 if you're just joining in. Thank you everyone who's commenting.

And here's Part 3.

When Columbus Day came, Lacey spent her morning lounging around the house in pajamas. She caught up on the daytime TV she only watched during summer vacation, while her grandmother prepared lunch in the kitchen.


“Lacey,” her grandmother called, “maybe today you should clean your room.”

“It’s clean,” she replied, flipping the channels between trashy talk shows and soap operas.

“I mean, maybe you should clean up those roses.”

“The roses are fine.”

“You have too many.”

Lacey flipped the channel again. “Why do you care?”

Her grandmother did not respond. Lacey had noticed an increase in her grandmother’s agitation. She didn’t want to think it had something to do with her roses, but she knew it did. She had no idea why.

A scuffle of noise outside the door made Lacey think the mail had arrived. She was just about to swing the door opened when she remembered that there was no mail on Columbus Day, but she opened the front door anyway. Arranging what looked like a hundred yellow roses on her porch stood Aaron. The day had an unusually warm temperature and for once, it was dry. Aaron stood before her, his hands shoved into his jean pockets, wearing a light grey sweater.

“It’s you?” Lacey asked. “All this time, you’ve been sending me these roses, these yellow roses. Even though you know I have a boyfriend, even though you know I hate the color yellow.”

Aaron smiled sheepishly. “Yes.”

“But why?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply. “I always have, and I think now that I always will.”

“Aaron, I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “I’m not expecting much…I know I don’t have much of a shot against a guy like Simon…but I don’t know. I just had a feeling. A hunch. I wanted to do something for you. I haven’t seen you smile as much lately and I was hoping to cheer you up. I just love you. I want you to be happy.”

“Aaron, I’m sorry…”

“You’re with Simon, I know.”

“Yeah.”

“Well tell me this,” Aaron said. “Do you like the roses? Do they make you smile at all?”

“Aaron…”

“Do they make you smile?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Then I won’t stop sending them,” he said and took off for the next yard.

Lacey walked inside leaving the roses on her porch. She felt odd accepting them, now that she knew where they had come from. She felt even more uneasy about the fact that she would continue to receive them. Why couldn’t he send any other color? But then again, she thought, no other color would do. Maybe yellow wasn’t such a bad thing after all. And Lacey returned outside, needing seven trips to bring the hundred yellow roses fully in.

Aaron kept true to his word, leaving piles and bouquets of yellow roses for Lacey every day. She had also convinced Simon to drop her off at the corner, claiming her grandmother had taken to watching their make out sessions from a window. But in reality, she had to keep the yellow roses a secret, or else Aaron or any other guy that looked at her might feel the wrath of the football team upon them.

Short Story Week: Yellow, Part 2

Part 1

Thanks so much for all of the sweet comments you guys. You're really making me smile. Here's part 2 of my short story Yellow!


Upstairs in her room, Lacey rummaged through her closet for an old fleece sweater to throw over her t-shirt. She found a knit pair of socks her grandmother had made, and pulled out a single pair of sweatpants that she had once borrowed from Simon after a concert.


“Where did this rose come from?” her grandmother asked, letting it roll across the palm of her hand. She sat on Lacey’s bed, waiting to approve of whether her outfit was warm enough to ward off pneumonia and other such ailments she fretted over when it rained.

“I don’t know,” Lacey said. “I found it on the porch when I came in. Someone left it there for me.”

“But Simon knows you hate the color yellow.”

“I know…” Lacey admitted. “I don’t think it was him.”

“A secret admirer perhaps?” she winked.

Lacey shrugged, pulling the fleece sweater down in place. “He’s not a very good admirer then, he should know how much I hate the color.”

“You know, you used to like it once, until…” Her voice trailed off.

“Until?” Lacey asked. She could not recall a time in her life that she had enjoyed that abhorrent color.

“Oh no never mind dear. I was thinking of one of your cousins.” Her grandmother stood up from the bed, gently laying the yellow rose across Lacey’s pillow case and exited the room without saying another word.

Lacey forgot all about the yellow rose the next day at school. Simon dropped her off at the house as usual, the rain from the previous day had continued. But when Lacey walked up to her porch, there were three yellow roses laying there, each one holding a piece of cardstock. When Lacey put the three together, it read,

To Lacey, my love

Who is beautiful,

And true.

Well these were certainly not from Simon, she realized. He would be completely incapable of uttering something like that, much less writing it down.

Aaron rode his bike up the path to her doorway. “Hey, how’s it going, Lacey?” he asked. He had pulled back the hood of his green raincoat, but Lacey was still happy no one could see her talking to him, as superficial as she knew that seemed.

“I’m fine,” she said. “You?”

“Oh yeah, me? I’m great. Really good. Whatcha got there?”

“I don’t know, Aaron. Someone keeps leaving these yellow roses for me. I don’t know who it is.”

“That’s really sweet though, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess, but I hate the color yellow. Like really hate it. It makes me angry when I see it.”

“You get angry when you see the color?” Aaron sounded disappointed. Then his face brightened. “That’s right I remember. You wrote that poem in fourth grade about how much you thought the color yellow stinks and then you had to read it in front of the whole school at the end of year assembly.”

“Oh no, you remember that?”

Aaron pushed his orange boots back and forth across his bike pedal. “Yeah, I remember everything about you. I mean…photographic memory and all. How else would I balance my 4.3 GPA?”

Lacey laughed at this.“I’ll see you later Aaron.” And she was inside her house before he could say, “bye.”

Her grandmother was waiting for her by the door this time, standing directly in front of Lacey’s mother’s picture. “More?” she cried. “But who…why?” She looked uncomfortable with their presence in the house.

“Grandma, how should I know?” she retorted, then retreated up to her room to do her homework.

The next day Lacey was greeted at home by six roses, and then by nine. A week went by and then another, and the yellow roses never stopped coming, always arriving, in greater increments of three. Lacey’s room was becoming full of them. She still felt angry every time she saw them or saw the color yellow for that matter. But something about the roses drew her to them, and she began to look forward to their arrival everyday after school. This strange unexplainable anticipation, followed by hot anger at seeing the only thing Lacey had ever consciously hated.

Short Story Week: Yellow, Part 1

This week just started and already, I can feel the insanity. So I thought I'd share a short story of mine that I've been kind of working on since I was 15.

The story behind this story is kind of cool.

When I was a high school freshman, I got to sign up for a two day creative writing workshop with a local college professor. He lectured the first day and then sent us off to write a 2 page short story that he would read and critique before our second meeting.

So I went home really excited and wrote my two page story and turned it in.

Then...being the oh so organized freshman that I was, I returned for day two of the workshop totally on time half an hour late.

When I walked in, everyone was staring at me funny. So of course I'm like...what's going on? Did my hair frizz? Is my sweater unbuttoned? Am I in the wrong workshop?

But I ignored it and listened and then we had a break. Everyone started coming up to me and telling me they really liked my story. And I was like...huh...wha...huh?????

It turned out...that the professor loved my story so much, he picked it to read to the entire group (and I was one of the only freshmen there so it was a REALLY big deal).

Of course I was sitting in Spanish when this happened. #GoMe!

Anyway, it's kind of been my baby ever since--my go to story for when I want to learn a new aspect of the craft and I want to experiment. It finally evolved into a 12 page story that I wrote for my advanced creative writing workshop at Arcadia. (FYI, this story had me dubbed by my professor as the make out queen of Arcadia and...outed me as a YA writer--I was totally trying to go literary, but FAILED). The style and voice and some details have changed, but the arc has stayed the same since I wrote this at 15.

So....that's the back story. This story isn't perfect...but...I'm in the mood to share. So hopefully you enjoy.

YELLOW: Part 1

Tiny rivulets of rain streamed down the car window. Lacey traced them with her finger from the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s 1987 blue Buick. The familiar houses on her street, each identical to the one before slowly passed by as Simon drove her home after school. Fall had come early that year and Lacey had not yet adjusted to the cold, still trying to run about in her summer wardrobe. Even with the heat turned to full blast in Simon’s car, her bare legs remained damp and shivering.

He parked out front of her house and let the engine run as he reached over to push her hair aside from her neck and kiss her. Lacey remembered the first time he had done that, almost exactly a year ago at Stephanie’s party. No one had ever kissed her before, and Simon’s popular high shool status made the experience all the more thrilling. She had closed her eyes and swore she could see stars at the time. Now, though she still enjoyed his touch, all she could see was the front door to her house.

A short set of cement stairs led to her front door. Simon’s hand moved predictably over her breast, as his mouth found her’s. Lacey’s eyes remained open. She could see a small yellow object sitting at the edge of the porch, rain pattering lightly over it. She squinted her eyes and broke away from the kiss, letting Simon’s lips move elsewhere. What IS that? She wondered. She couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

“My grandmom’s waiting,” she said abruptly, pulling Simon’s hands away from her bra clasp.

He groaned.

“Call me after dinner,” Lacey said with the car door already opened. She leaned over quickly, kissing him goodbye with a peck on the cheek and then ran up the pathway to her house.

Under the small black roof of her porch she could better examine the object that had peaked her curiosity, a single yellow rose, with the thorns removed. A small white square piece of cardstock with a white ribbon strewn thru it had been tied under the base of the flower.

To Lacey

it said. There was no signature and no clue as to who the sender might be. Her mind imediately went to Simon. But this seemed unlike him. He didn’t seem to be aware of the fact that roses came in any other color than red. Plus he would want her to know that he’d sent them, otherwise how could he reap the benefits of giving flowers in the first place?

Lacey clutched the yellow rose in her hand, ripping off the card and stuffing it in the back pocket of her jean skirt. She stared at the door, not wanting to go inside, not yet. Normally she stayed in the car longer with Simon, but the yellow rose had unsettled her, its sudden appearance, its color. She had to know what it was. And now that it was in her hands, she wanted to know who had sent it to her. But even as the rain poured harder, she didn’t want to go inside.

“Are you taking your showers outside now?” Aaron, her next door neighbor called out as he drove past her house on his bike. His pants were tucked into bright orange rain boots, and his green hooded raincoat was buttoned all the way up, his hood tied tightly across his neck as if his mother had fastened it shut.

Lacey smiled and waved, not really having a response to a question like that. Especially a question asked by a boy who wore green raincoats with orange boots. He looked like an oversized leprechaun. Without any further reason to delay, Lacey walked inside her house. The air conditioning blasted all over her body, giving rise to thousands of goosebumps. She shivered again, letting her school bag fall off her shoulders. She kicked off her black thonged sandals, which had been completely soaked through. She would have no choice but to pull out her winter wardrobe tonight, and begin mixing sweaters with her t-shirts and jeans. She’d be forced to start wearing actual shoes too, with socks.

In the foyer of her house she hesitated, staring at a portrait of her mother. Lacey and her shared the same blue almond shaped eyes, the same pin straight brunette hair, and the same dimples on either side of their mouths. If Lacey hadn’t had her hairdresser add bangs at her last hair appointment before senior year began, looking at her mother’s portrait would have been almost like looking into a mirror. Except one could not see the dead in mirrors, not in real life anyway.

Lacey’s mother and father had been killed in a car crash when she was five by a drunk driver. So she could had come to her grandmother’s house to live, and had been with her ever since. Her grandmother came running into the foyer, waving her arms about.

“Lacey what are you doing just standing there? You’ll catch your death! Let’s get you upstairs right now and find some warmer clothes. Come away, come away,” she fussed. Her grandmother grabbed both of her arms and led her away from her mother’s picture up the stairs. The foyer had the only remaining picture of her mother in the house.

Shannon's Next Dare: Blog Wars Rages On!

In case you missed it, I finally completed my epic dare from Shannon to bring Webcam to Writers to life. You guys saw! You know I need to dare her back in the most epic way possible.

But two things make daring Shannon a little hard to do.

1) She won't vlog until she's agented. Which means I have to be a little more creative with what I can make her do.

2) She sent me this package mere hours before I was set to counter-dare her.

I have to admit, I sort of squeeed...ok I totally SQUEEED when I saw this! And may have jumped up and down....just a little. I mean its this amazing picture Shannon did of Orlando Freaking Bloom who I love (don't judge!). And then she went and secretly got me a copy of Hush, Hush, signed! With a little message in there for me from Becca!!!!!! And...there's my Dinosaur book, signed by super agent and author Laura Rennert, that I won in her contest.

Of course then I started thinking all these warm fuzzy thoughts, like make love, not war....fluffy bunnies...shoes...Shannon really is an amazing CP....vegan chocolate....and Shannon's so much fun to talk to and blondes really are nice people and I just want to jump up and down and say THANK YOU!

But then I thought about my commercial again and the way she tortured me with only one clue for weeks: bring sexy back.

And then there was the fact that she was going to forcibly sign me up for THIS if I didn't sign myself up.

And all fuzzy feelings faded away...

I don't accept bribes! This is BLOG WARS!

So Shannon....you might not vlog....but you can still Bring. Sexy. Back.

Your next dare is ready to be issued.

Here we go. One of Shannon's most popular features on her blog are her USC Lessons, where she teaches you important things she learned in film school to make your plots pop, smoke, and sizzle. And one of her more memorable lessons was on....






SEDUCTION






Yes, that's right. Any ideas where I'm going with this yet?

You see...people learn in all different kinds of styles. Some are auditory, some are visual....and just because we're writers, doesn't mean we should have to just plainly read and understand everything we're taught. Sometimes we need to see and hear things, and be shown examples for a lesson to really sink in.

I dare you, Shannon, to bring your Seduction Lesson to Life! Really help us understand the concept in an informational video. Create scenes, use movie clips, show pictures, explain the concept to us! Make sure we understand seduction. Seduce us with your video lesson. So afterwards, we'll all be masters.

Dare Issued.

*Grabs popcorn and hides*

Webcam for Writers: The Commercial

It's finally here guys! I finally completed my latest dare from Shannon in our epic doomsday --light versus dark--good versus evil--blond versus brunette--east coast versus west coast--blog war!!!

And in case you're like "What on earth is a blog war?" here's the deal. Shannon over at Ramblings of a Wannabe Scribe and I dare each other to do outrageous things back and forth on our blogs and her latest challenge to me involved taking a script I wrote and posted (a spoof on late night commercials...for writers) and making it into a real commercial.

And I've done it!!!!

And it is insane.

First of all...close ups are not my friend. Second, I can't act. And third...crap, I can't think of a third point, I just wanted to stall...so....ok....here it is.



Sergio Herrera is my hero--he made this commercial and put up with me for two nights, and somehow made this work even though his acting directions involved telling me to "Be the squirrel." You rock!

Ok challenge met!

Shannon...watch your back! I'm issuing your dare on Saturday! You've been warned!

SNIS: Sexy New Idea Syndrome

I thought I'd bring to your attention today a very serious disease that often affects writers right when they're in the middle of a WIP.

SNIS!

a.k.a....Sexy New Idea Syndrome.

It's a very serious disease and potentially more fatal than Writer's Block Syndrome (WBS).

Those at risk for contracting SNIS are:

-writers
-writers who are deep in revisions
-writers who recently discovered a majorly unfixable plot hole
-writers whose characters are no longer speaking to them
-writers whose characters are acting out of character
-writers who just tend to get a lot of ideas
-writers who are writing

So you can see, that pretty much EVERYONE is at risk for contracting SNIS.

Unless of course you're one of those freaks of nature who can work on like 5 books at once, I hate you, go home, then it appears you do not carry the gene that predisposes you to this syndrome. Congratulations, you've beat the system, you can ignore the rest of this post. Whatever!

But for the rest of you...keep reading!


What does SNIS do?

Well, as you can guess, SNIS comes right when you're deeply involved with another WIP, married to it actually. Just when you thought that the idea you were working with was the BEST idea you've ever had, and you fell in love and decided to write the book and had a little promise ceremony where you swore the sacred writing vow:

I, (your name) do take you (working title) to be my WIP. I promise to write you and revise you, to rewrite and edit you, through agent rejections and requests, till publication do us part.

And you went on the honeymoon wrote draft 1 and things were pretty good...

But then....sexy new idea comes slinking around the corner...

"Hiya Big Writer." (wink) Bet you never thought of Space Aliens who fell in love across two rival space ships!

And suddenly, you're listening to the Sexy New Idea.

This new idea is bigger! It's better. It's fresher. More Original! And more importantly...you CANNOT see a single plot hole! ZOMG! (eyes bug out).


The next thing you know, you're thinking about the SNI, you're planning sub plots, naming your future characters together, shopping for titles and before you know it....you've completely forgotten about your original WIP! It's just lying there, helpless in a word document, crying and wondering why you didn't open it up that night to edit.

You've succumbed to SNIS!

Luckily, I have a cure!

Treatment of SNIS:

To rid yourself completely of SNIS, I prescribe that you sit down, open a fresh word document and write out EVERY SINGLE THING you can think of about your SNI. Write until you're all written out. And then...save the document and you can come back to it later when you are finished with your WIP.

SNIs like to sneak up on you and can drag you away from your goal. New ideas always seem easier, because they are devoid of problems. I promise you, they're not--you just haven't seen what they look like first thing in the morning when your writing chapter 5. Not pretty.

But usually, once you've written everything out, you'll have gotten the SNIS out of your system and should be cured. You can return to your WIP and someday down the road, return to your SNI which will no longer be your SNI, but your current WIP. Beware other SNIs that may be lurking.

Exceptions:

Ok so maybe...just maybe your SNI actually is better than your WIP...but only you and the gut feeling in your stomach can tell you the truth about that. If you do decide to break your WIP vows and marry your SNI, make sure it's because it IS really better and not because you wanted something fresh and new and free of plot holes.


Please pass this message along to all who are at risk for contracting SNIS. I myself have survived the syndrome 5 times and once....was overcome by a SNI that was actually better than my WIP (that SNI would be my novel STOLEN--that I'm querying soon--best decision ever).

SNIS is out there and trying to keep writers from finishing and achieving their writing goals, but together, we can lock those SNIs in a word document for later.


(This post was inspired by a comment I started on Kelly Lyman's Blog--thanks for the inspiration)

P.S. For some totally crazy reason, my friend Ella and her blog partner Aaron have decided to do a Q & A session at The Blogger Girlz. Anyone who has hung out around here long enough knows that open Q & A can be like unleashing a floodgate....scary! But she's pretty brave and pretty cool, so if you have a chance go over there and do your worst;) Maybe someone ought to revamp the infamous Harry Potter questions...

On Naming Your Characters

Deciding on a name for your characters can be one of the most important decisions you make as a writer. Especially if you're the sort of person who considers things like meaning, origin, culture, history, alliteration and popularity of a given name in a certain year (remember how Bella notes immediately that names like Rosalie, Alice and Emmett are old fashioned unpopular names....first tip off they are vampires).

It's easy to learn the meaning behind a name by picking up a baby naming book or doing a quick google search and often a name can help give you some insight into symbolism behind your character or their role in your story. Sometimes we just like the way a name sounds...this was the case with Maggie Stiefvater and naming her wolf-boy Sam, it was all about the way she could hear Grace saying it and the emotion behind it.

Names can tell you a lot about a character...or it can say a lot about a character's parents...Hermione Granger for instance...though Hermione is the female form of Hermes, who is the Greek god og messages and communication...who always has the answers for Harry? And remember how she sends him the message about the basilisk when she's petrified...with a note in her hand... But beyond that, according to J.K. Rowling, she felt that Hermione's parents, well educated and working as dentists would have picked the name from a Shakespeare play...just because they liked it.

But whatever your reason for choosing your characters' names and however much symbolism you put behind it, one thing that's important to remember is that a character's name then becomes part of their identity and most likely at some point it's something they have given some thought to--at least once. I mean, how many times have you thought about your name and liked it, or hated it, or wondered about if your parents have given you a different name, or shuddered to think about the other name you almost got.

And since my name is somewhat unusual...I thought I'd give you the story behind my name and how it's affected me and yeah...ok...so technically I'm not a character...but the girls in the FNC all call me high-concept, so close enough.

Ok...here you go.

The story behind my name:

My full name is Frankie Diane Mallis...which I think you guys know.

It's baby book meaning is...Divine Evil Spear (ok so I played with that a bit, but its better than the alternative of Frenchman Divine Evil....yeah thought so). Now possibly if it turns out in some kind of loopy Stranger Than Fiction twilight zone thingy I'm actually a character that someone is writing a story about...quite possibly there is a very significant meaning to that...like I'm a divine spear...that's going to kill all evil. But...most likely....I'm not. And so...the baby name book interpretation doesn't do much for me... at least not on a day to day basis.

My name's origin...comes from my maternal grandfather Frank David Millman. So automatically this teaches you two things about me as a character....1) I was born into a family that honors tradition and values family and 2) (this isn't always necessarily the case but it is with us) My family is Jewish...and traditionally you always name your child after deceased relatives.

What else about origin...well I've partly been informed by my grandfather's legacy...he was a psychologist (if I'd pursued an actual career in psychology I'd be a third generation psychologist), and...he was a writer. He used to write mystery and detective short stories that were published in magazines. And...well I'm a writer too.

What about my parents...So we know where the initials F.D.M. came from...but I could have easily been Fiona Danielle Mallis, or Franchescha Deborah Mallis, or Fern Delores Mallis (YUCK). But luckily (Thank goodness) my parents went with Frankie...which is a totally unisex name, but most people seem to think it's still more of a boy's name than a girl's. It's also more of a nickname usually than a real name...usually short for Franchesca or Francis. What does this say about my parents? Mostly...they don't really care what anyone thinks, they have their own standards and do things their way and aren't guided by trends or the norm. Also they don't seem to like fancy...or Franchesca it would be. These things have kind of seeped their way into me and the way I live and make my choices...

So that's the background behind my name and you can start to see how its shaped me a little...but how has my name actually affected me?

A Girl Named Frankie

Icebreaker!
99% of the people I meet are bound to ask me, "Is that your real name?" or "What's Frankie short for?" or "Is Frankie you're nickname?".  Which I don't mind at all, answering this question is as normal to me as answering "I'm good, how are you?". What it does is it creates an instant ice breaker for me and anyone I meet. Blogger Natalie Bahm who I got to meet briefly at the SCBWI NY conference said I was the first extroverted writer she met and I really think its just because of my name. I'm used to socializing and making people feel comfortable around me because I usually can bond with people instantly...just over my name. People tend to feel like they can talk to me because they automatically have something to say:-)


But its a boys name....

So I kind of had a phase where I didn't like my name...maybe around age 4 or 5. I was convinced it was a boy's name and my parents needed to change it immediately. But...I was also convinced that the president had passed a law making it illegal for girls to wear pants and for an entire year would only wear skirts and dresses...don't ask.

But now I love it. However...it can be confusing for some people. I've had plenty of substitute teachers take attendance and not see me raise my hand and ask "Where is he?" and during one SCBWI conference when I took part in a group critique I had comments like "Wow you really can write girls well for a guy."

So I made the choice to use Diane professionally so just in case you didn't see my picture, you'd know I was a girl.

Ok time to wrap this up...my name overall has informed a lot of my values, but beyond the symbolism --which only the imaginary author writing my story cares about along with her small legion of obsessed fans--it's mostly had an effect on my personality and how I deal in social situations...I tend to be very outgoing, joke around a lot (which you have to do after youve been accused of having a boy's name) and I'm also pretty open with people---hey you learn all of what I just said about me within a minute of meeting me on some level or another.

So...how do your characters feel about their names? How has their name affected a part of their life? Beyond what the name means to you, what does it mean to them? How has it shaped their values or influenced the way they feel in social situations particularly if their name is incredibly plain and popular, or unusual, or comes with a unique spelling? I'd love to hear about your characters and their names:)

How Emotional Do You Get Over Writing?

I've been kind of rolling this post around in my head for a little while because I'm going to bring up something that isn't really my all time favorite activity in the world.


Crying.

Yeah. I mean, really, what is fun about having your eyes get all wet when you're not even underwater, and then potentially ruining your non-waterproof mascara (because that stuff is hard to wash off), and then comes the sobbing where you lose your primal ability as a human being to form actual words and sentences. Puffy eyes. Red cheeks. I'm not even going to talk about the snot....let's just say, that despite the fact that I am incredidbly silly--I'm also a very sensitive person.



I blame it on my birthday--I have a pisces sun sign and a pisces ascending...baby, I'm as emotional as they come. But I don't like crying.

However...since I finished this revision, I've noticed that I'm getting way and way more emotional about my characters and things I'm planning to do to them. I had all these ideas that at the time I thought were totally awesome and would be fabulous additions to the story and now I'm like....OMG can I really do that to character X? And how's Y going to deal with this and I'll completely crush Z...sniff. sniff....waaaaaaah!

It's really not my thing to admit this, but I was totally crying as I revised and wrote and rewrote the last two chapters of my book. I've gotten teary eyed before...but you know this was a whole other level, which I think might have to do with the fact that maybe...just maybe this time I got it right? I hope.

I guess in a way I have fallen in love with my characters, and I do care deeply about them. Very deeply, apparently. They are VERY real to me...but you know...I'm not expecting them to walk through my front door or anything...usually...

So anyway...what I'm wondering on this fine Monday morning...is what about you guys? Do your characters make you cry? Or scream? Or laugh? How emotional and how involved do you become with yours? And how has your emotional relationship with your characters changed over time.

More importantly...is it time to invest in waterproof mascara?

Love At First Sight Blogfest

Happy Valentines Day Everyone!!! I'm so excited to be participating the in the Love at First Sight Blogfest! These blogfests are so much fun and such a great way to meet and discover other writers, it's a blast.

So I wasn't going to post anymore excerpts since I'm-this-close to entery Query Wars....but in honor of the holiday and because I've posted versions of this before...I thought...why not.

This isn't exactly what I'd call Love at First Sight...but there's definitely something there. It is the first time two of my characters meet, by running into each other. Literally. Enjoy:-)

From Stolen:

Sorry the excerpt has been removed!
 
Also, in honor of my AMAZING Linger giveaway and because I couldn't resist....this next scene is from Shiver:
 
And as I stood there in what I had thought was silence, I started to hear sounds that I hadn't before. The rustling os animals in the woods, turining over crisp leaves with their paws. The distant roar of trucks on the highway.
 
The sound of fast, ragged breathing.
 
I froze. I held my breath.
 
But the uneven gasps weren't mine.
 
I followed the sound, climbing cautiously onto the deck, painfully aware of the sound of each stair beneath my weight.
 
I smelled him before I saw him, my heart instantly revving up into high gear. My wolf. The the motion detector lights above the back door clicked on and flooded the porch with yellow light. And there he was, half sitting, half lying against the glass back door.
 
My breath caught painfully in my throat as I moved still closer, hesitant. His beautiful ruff was gone and he was naked, but I knew it was my wolf even before he opened his eyes. His pale yellow eyes, so familiar, flicked open at the sound of my approach, but he didn't move. Red was smeared from his ear to his desperately human shoulders--deadly war paint.
 
I can't tell you how I knew it was him, but I never doubted it.
 
Sigh....
 
And last but not least, today isn't just Valentines Day in my family--it's also my brother's birthday!
 
Happy Birthday Michael, I love you!!!

LINGER ARC CONTEST!!!

First of all HUGE thank you to everyone for the awesome comments and encouragement you've left me for finishing my major revision! I'm on cloud 9, I'm so thrilled with what I've accomplished and now I'm getting into the hardcore line editing so I can start querying agents by my birthday (March 2nd) so I can totally celebrate that day because I've finally entered the next adventure in the publishing process.

You know what else I'll be doing on March 2nd...picking someone to send my uber precious arc of the highly anticipated and amazing LINGER, by Maggie Stiefvater, the sequel to the AMAZING SHIVER.

Isn't it pretty???? What's inside is even better!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok time to win!

Those of you who have entered my contests before know I do things a little untraditionally...

For those of you who are new, here's the drill!

Become a follower--trust me, it makes you cool! Leave a comment below and tell me what your favorite Maggie Stiefvater scene is (this can be from Shiver, Ballad or Lament). And if you haven't read any Maggie...go get on that!

Want more votes? Bring a friend over to my blog and make sure they tell me you sent them and I'll give you an extra vote! For every friend you send, your name gets entered again. AND if your referral makes a referral than you get more chances from that too because I grandfather in the votes. So please get creative and tweet, blog, facebook, beg, bribe...ummm just figure out a way to get more friends over here so you have more chances to win, ok?  :-)

And..now I'll show you how this works in case what I just said makes no sense.

So Alice Cullen follows my blog and she sees that I'm giving away an arc of Linger and she wants it because she really needs to know what happens next with Grace and Sam. She'd totally use her psychic powers to see how it ends, but the wolves in the story are blocking her power So she enters my contest by commenting below, "My favorite Maggie Steifvater scene is in Ballad when Nuala shows up because she has really awesome short hair, like me"

1 entry is awarded to Alice!

But Alice isn't satisfied with 1 entry. She doesn't see herself winning that way, she wants more. So....she calls, Edward.

Alice: Edward, you have to go and follow Frankie's blog. She's really cool and vegetarian like us.

Edward: She's vegan actually, and she's a real vegetarian. We're not. That's just a joke between us, Alice.

Alice: Edward, I can translate Japanese, I know what a real vegetarian is! Anyway, you need to follow her blog and tell her I sent you, because then I can win an arc of Linger!

Edward: But that book is about wolves! There's even a wolf named Sam! (Epic growl)

Alice: Come on, Maggie's an amazing writer and Frankie's awesome. She has really great shoes.

Edward: Fine...hang on...oh yeah I love this blog! I'm going to follow, though it may cause me pain...

Alice: YAY!

So now 1 entry is awarded to Edward and 2 entries go to Alice. But Edward wants more...

Edward: Bella, listen, if it doesn't vex you too greatly, I'd be most honored if you could--

Bella: Kiss me!

Edward: Hang on, I'm trying to tell you something. I'm trying to enter a contest and if you enter too I can get more entries.

Bella: If I follow Frankie's blog will you kiss me?

Edward: If you tell Frankie I sent you, and I'm well fed and not too excited, then yes.

Bella: Can we do it if we win the contest?

Edward: Not until we're married.

Bella: Fine...ooooh this book is about werewolves. Yay! I'm going to follow Frankie's blog. And her name will be so much easier to remember then Jessica's.

Edward:...

So Bella has 1 entry, Edward has 2, and now Alice has 3!

Hmmmmm you know what....because I love my followers so much--you all are so cool--if you're an old follower, I'll give an extra entry! Wheeee!

Alright now enter away. Contest ends at 11:59PM on March 2nd (My Birthday!). Good Luck!!

I Finished!

I'm done. I'm crying. And I'm done. I revised and rewrote an ending that made me feel proud to write the words "The End" at the bottom.

Now all I have to do is go through with line edits and touch up a few places that my gammas and CPs have pointed out to me. But this is it. This is my novel. I am going to be querying by the end of the month (just in time for my birthday, which is March 2nd --FYI--the same as Dr. Seuss).

I'm getting a little ahead of myself here, but let's check out the score.

6: Years since I had the dream that inspired this story
2.5: Years that I've been actively drafting, writing, rewriting, cutting and writing the book
50: Times I wrote the first chapter or started a new draft or version of the story
6: Weeks it took me to finally write the right draft, the version of the story that was the ONE!
6: Months it took me to revise every single chapter of The Draft (at least once, some chapters have had multiple treatments)
9: Drafts it took to me to compile and perfect my query letter.
5: Titles I seriously considered before settling on Stolen (at least that's the title for now, hehe)
470: Pages of Stolen
136,943: Words in Stolen (I know scary!)
Infinite: The feeling I have right now that I wrote the best story I could write (plus one more revision and line edits).

Here's the song I'm listening to, which shares my book's namesake and is one of the bonus tracks on my playlist:-)

Fin!

OMG!!!!!!!!!!!! One Chapter To Go!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! That's how I feel right now. I just finished revising chapter 21 of 22, the one I mentioned in my last post that needed to have a scene cut?

Well I not only cut said scene, but I totally took the rest of the chapter and had a throw down on the floor where I basically deleted every single word I wrote and started from scratch.

I am SO relieved right now and excited because I have one chapter to go until I finish my revision and I'm thinking tomorrow baby!!! Tomorrow!

Of course because I basically wrote this chapter from scratch it's probably not very good yet and my CPs will have a hey day with it, but whatever. I just had a dance party with my sister to celebrate.

And yeah, I still need to go back and fix some issues mentioned by my gamma readers and do line edits, but basically, the MAJOR revision is thisclosetobeingdone.

WHOA! I can practically smell Query Wars!

In other news I reached 300 followers this week--SQUEEEE!

You know what that means...contest is a coming your way. I'll announce it this week when I decide on the fabulous prizes AND...I hear there's a commercial ready for you....

Guide to Cutting in Revision

So most of you who read my blog everyday (aka the most awesome people in the world) know that I had made a self imposed deadline for myself to finish revising by New Years Day. A goal I failed in the most epic way possible. Sigh.

One would think that I would have then made my goal a few days later, or even a few weeks later. But it's now a little over a month later and I'm still sitting on those last two chapters.

Why?

Honestly, I didn't want to work on them. Something was wrong and I couldn't figure out what. I've been really happy and excited about every other chapter so far and I am actually excited about my final chapter, but...chapter 21, aka the second to last chapter....it's been making me crazy. And last night when I got down and dirty with it, I finally figured out why.

I won't bore you with the details but basically the tension was gone from a huge scene --like a HUGE scene that's been written and plotted for over 2 years, and I'm about to go and completely cut it.

I've done this sort of thing before, cutting out a major scene and it's a little scary to do, though at this point, I've been so frustrated with this portion of my book that I'm kind of glad to send this scene packing (I do have plans to resurrect it in a way that will make it better---in the final chapter).

But yeah, after I write this blog post, I'm going to go and highlight a whole lot of words and press delete.

And I swear I'm happy about this and not freaking out. Although I know it's kind of tough to do this sort of thing---I think after such a long revision I'm a little desensitized...or I'm so goal oriented that I don't care what scene or character I have to kill, I'll do it to make the book awesome (oh man, editors better love me).

Anyway, since this can be hard to do, especially if your unsure....I'm posting my tips for knowing when to cut.

1) You don't want to work on a scene. Dude, you should LOVE every scene with the fiery passion of 1,000 suns and be excited out of your mind to work on your novel and if you don't want to work on it, then something is wrong with the scene. It has to go.

2) The scene is boring you. You edit a sentence and then you check twitter. You look at half a sentence and wonder if Cake Boss is on tv. If you can't stay focused on your writing, then your readers won't be focused on your writing and this will be the point of the story where they either put the book down, or race through to the end, thus...losing some of your book's magic. And you cannot let your book lose magic--you should be infusing it with magic.

3) You start itching for the delete button. Your brain is trying to tell you something here. Listen to it. If you can imagine your book without a scene, then take the scene out. Don't labor under something you wrote that no longer works or suits its purpose just because its there or you think its going to be more work to rewrite. Just do it. Hit delete, trust me, you'll thank me later.

So I'm off. This is of course now going to mean some rearranging in the last chapter, but that's fine. So hopefully now that I've had this epiphany (actually I've had quite a few, for each thing I need to cut, I've realized something new I need to add) I really hope that this is the week I do finish the revision --which leaves me to do one last comb through of line edits. I've got my fingers crossed.

How about you guys? How do you approach scene cutting and when do you know you're ready to do it? Or how do you convince yourself it's ok?

Psychology for Writers: Lesson 3 Perception

Sleeping through class? Catch up here!

Lesson 1: The Unconscious
Lesson 2: Association


And today, let's get the lowdown or the DL on Perception. Ooooh Baby!

Perception broken down--it's the way our thoughts, emotions, memories, and so on influence our brain to interpret the things we see and feel around us.

What's important to remember is that not everyone is going to see things the same way, and more importantly (especially for you writers who like to write misleading/misguided/misdirected MCs) our perceptions can be very very wrong!

Let's check out the way literary characters perceive the world.

Our first patient today is Bella Swan.

Bella's perception of herself is clearly very off. She's smart, pretty and funny (hello advanced chem, 5 guys drooling and jokes about being albino). But...her low self esteem do to having a rocky time growing up with her unstable mother and distant father has caused her perception of herself to shift so that she sees herself as a sort of dull, whatever, average piece of blah. She's closed off (literally we find out in book 4) to people around her and while her self sacrificing tendencies and her ability to love suggest she has potential to be a warm and fun loving person, her misguided perceptions tend to make her come across as sarcastic, a bit catty and not necessarily someone you'd want to be friends with (she does totally snark on Eric for Chess Club and can't be bothered to remember Jessica's name for like 2 classes).

This perception of herself and her self worth become exacerbated when she falls for Edward Cullen. He's everything she's not (in her eyes). He's beautiful, he's a genius and...well he's not that funny, but he's intense and intriguing with a charismatic personality, so we'll forgive his inability to make jokes. Bella has a hard time accepting his love because she can't percieve herself as someone worthy of it. Savvy?

It's Bella's perceptions of herself, oddly enough that guide most of the plot and action through the series. In New Moon when the epic dumping occurs, despite the fact that...ok come on, you really believed Edward was leaving???--Bella totally believes him because his lie goes straight to the heart of her self perception--fully ruled by her low self esteem. Her lack of self preservation seems to stem from this perception too, and leads to her attempted sacrifice in Eclipse and then becomes her super vampire power in Breaking Dawn--she's so closed off to seeing the world around her, to living outside of her own perceptions that she can literally close her mind off to other vampire's powers.

What can you take away from Bella's experience for your book?

Everyone has a slightly off perception of who they are and their place in the world. Often in YA books, the main characters are trying very hard to figure out what that place is, and they strugggle, often through a series of outside forces, evil vampires, nasty teachers and bullies, but they also struggle because of themselves. Perhaps if Bella had a slightly more healthy view of things, she might not have believed Edward so easily and suffered so much, but then...there would have been no New Moon.

So make sure one of the questions you ask yourself about your main character is not only how does the world see them, but how do they see themselves in the world? What perception do they have about themselves and why do they think that? Where did those feelings come from? Bella lacked mature parental figures to embed her with proper self esteem. But for another character they might come from a specific culture or time period that creates similar effects.

Katniss has a misguided perception of herself as well. She has little value on her life and is extremely self sacrificing--but her perception has nothing to do with self esteem and everything to do with the fact that she's living a harsh world of kill or be killed and all she can hope for is that her loved ones will have food to eat.

Examine their perceptions and understand the source. Does your characters view of themselves come from experience, emotion, culture, upbringing, one tragic event?

Ok so we looked at the way a character's perception can guide their inner world. Now...

How perception guides the way your character sees the world.

Our next patient today is Harry Potter. (BTW you can easily apply Bella's lesson to Harry and then see the way his self perception changes as he learns to enjoy life and value himself at Hogwarts). We're going to look at the way Harry percieves the world around him.

By the time we roll around to the Half Blood Prince has some very unique perceptions of the world around him. One: you can't trust the government at all. I mean, wow, I just get blown away every time I reread the moment he disses Scrimgeour--pretty heavy stuff for your average 16 year old, but remember, Harry spent an entire year being wrong by the government, not to mention tortured by the toad Umbridge. He's seen the way Ministry of Magic tried to get rid of Dumbledore--just to keep the quiet, and he's seen the way justice was never served for his godfather, Sirius. Harry's radical perceptions stem from real life experiences--we have a direct corelation here.

But what about his perceptions concerning Draco Malfoy? Sure Malfoy's a rat ferret, but why would some stupid 16 year old be at the center of the most evil wizard of all time's plans? Harry is Positive (with a capital P) that Draco is behind the attacks....but for once, Ron and Hermione don't really believe him. Actually, no one believes him. And really, Harry's been wrong before, multiple times. Remember Quirrell? Remember his initial perception of Sirius? Heck, by the time we read the Half Blood Prince, most of us don't even trust Harry's judgment.

But Harry's perception never wavers and here's why. While everyone is scoffing at the idea of a 16 yr old being important and integral the future of Lord Voldemort....they're forgetting one important thing. Harry is a 16 old who is important (chosen one anybody?) and integral to the future of Lord Voldemort (he's the only one who can defeat him).

Harry's unique experiences have shaped his perception of what he sees. He knows that you can't trust anyone, and to expect the unexepected and he knows that you can't write someone off just for being a teenager (even 16 yr old Tom Riddle was capable of murder).

Where another character might not have suspected Draco so heavily, even a pre-prophecy Harry might not have been so suspicious, Harry's perceptions are directly related to what he's been through.

So the questions for you to keep in mind, are how does your MC see the world around him/her--how is the world ACTUALLY around him/her--and WHY does s/he see it that way? What experiences or past self perceptions led to this current belief system?

Homework!

Self-Perception
Write a paragraph describing the way the world percieves your character. Then, write a paragraph about the way your character perceives themself. How do these two perceptions collide? Next, make sure you can answer the question: Where did this perception come from? Is it cultural? Emotional? Experiential?

Next...

World-Perception
Write a paragraph about the way things are in your world. Then write a paragraph about the way your character sees the world around them. Is s/he right or wrong? And make sure you can answer why they see things this way.

Then have fun incorporating these perceptions into your WIP, it's a guaranteed way to add depth and development to your characters. And character development rocks:-)

Hope you enjoyed!

For Fun: The Best Harry Potter Spoof Ever!!

So I'm still feeling a bit under the weather...if you saw my last post (with my fight scene), the weekend I went to NY was apparently also the weekend for a major cold full of runny noses and sinus pressure and coughing and general ick. I stayed perky throughout the whole conference (yay for adrenaline), though the poor FNC had to deal with me in the mornings--love you girls!!

Anyway I thought I'd post my favorite Harry Potter Spoof because its making me feel better! And I thought you might enjoy it too:-) Then hopefully I'll finish my Psych lesson plan for tomorrow.









PS Im 4 followers away from 300. When I reach 300, you know what that means....

CONTEST!!!

Fight Scene Blogfest!

So I'm back from NYC and the SCBWI Conference where I had a fabulous time with the girls despite the fact my body thought this was a really awesome weekend to develop a horrible cold and sinus congestion and cough and....blah. So I shall update you all on everything, but...today is the The Fight Scene Blogfest hosted by the ever awesome Mireyah Wolfe.

In the meantime, you can check out the FNC for our conference updates. All I have to say is right now I have a huge girl-crush on Libba Bray. She's my hero and my long lost jewelry twin.

I know some of you are hoping for a fight scene from STOLEN, but I'm at the point where I'm so close to querying that I'll no longer be posting excerpts. Sorry!! Especially for the Team Ryan fans already out there.

But...I do still have the awesomesauce for you today. I'm posting my favorite fight scene moment from the latest book in my favorite series, Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead. Yay!

This is from Blood Promise.

I told the group we were going to go home--and then, while cutting around the back of a factory, I sensed a fourth Strigoi.

We jumped him. Another scuffle occured, but we eventually managed to pin him as we had others. "Go ahead," I told Denis. "You know what to--"

"I'm going to rip your throat out!" the Strigoi snarled.

Whoa. This one spoke English. Denis opened his mouth to begin the interrogation, but I shook my head. "I'll take over." Like the other Strigoi, he swore and struggled, even with the stake against his neck, making it hard for me to talk.

"Look," I said growing impatient and tired, "just tell us what we need to know. We're looking for a dhampir named Dimitri Belikov."

"I know him." The Strigoi's voice was smug. "And he's no dhampir."

Without realizing it, I'd called Dimitri a dhampir. I was tired and had slipped up. Now wonder the Strigoi was so pleased to talk. He assumed we didn't know about Dimitri turning. And like any arrogant Strigoi, he was happy to tell us more, clearly in the hopes of causing us pain.

"Your friend has been awakened. He stalks the night with us now, drinking the blood of foolish girls like you."

In a split second, a thousand thoughts raced through my head. Holy crap. I'd come to Russia thinking it would be easy to find Dimitri. I'd had those hopes dashes in his hometown, nearly causing me to give up, and I'd swung the other way, resigning myself to the near impossibility of my task. The thought that I might be close to something here was staggering.

"You're lying," I said. "You've never seen him."

"I see him all the time. I've killed with him."

My stomach twisted, and it had nothing to do with the Strigoi's proximity. Don't think about Dimitri killing people. Don't think about Dimitri killing people. I said the words over and over in my head, forcing myself to stay calm.

"If that's true," I hissed back, "then I've got a message for you to deliver to him. Tell him Rose Hathaway is looking for him."

"I'm not your errand boy," he said, glowering.

My stake slashed out, drawing blood, and he grimaced in pain. "You're anything I want you to be. Now go tell Dimitri what I told you. Rose Hathaway. Rose Hathaway is looking for him. Say it." I pressed the point to his neck. "Say my name so I know you'll remember."

"I'll remember it so I can kill you."

The stake pressed harder, spilling blood.

"Rose Hathaway," he said. He spit at me but missed.

Satisfied, I leaned back. Denis watched me expectantly, stake poised and ready.

"Now we kill him?"

I shook my head. "Now we let him go."

I hope you all enjoyed we will return shortly to our regularly scheduled blogging :-)