Been Writing?

on beta-ing and being a beta-er

2012-02-16T08:02:00.000-09:00

Mostly I just wanted to use some words that don't exist :D
beta-ing . . . beta - er . . .

What's funny to me now is that when I get a new beta reader, they're always so nice with their comments. I'm like - just say it - What the heck are you thinking Jolene?? Or too many "just" in the last few paragraphs.

Instead I get - be careful because you bounce back and forth between my dad and dad, and there seems to be a lot in this section, you might want to just back and look them over a bit. IN my opinion.

(OK, OK, this is sort of a fake one made off a fab comment from the awesomeness that is Morgan Shamy - and I probably shouldn't find politeness funny. But it's like - you don't have to be polite when you crit for me, lol. Just tell me where I'm still sucking :D - I've gotten a few crits, and I promise I'll be okay)

And then I realize I TOTALLY do this, too.

* is for the people I crit for often

** is what I'd say for people I don't crit for often

* You can do better

**While your descrip is good, you might want to "up" it a bit. Make it more unique. The surroundings should be shown in a way that IMPACT your mc - it's better than a list of things in a room. We need to feel the connect to the observations.

(In my mind I'm thinking - I don't walk into a room and think - there are two flowery sofas opposite one another and three book shelves and . . .

I think - who on earth likes flowery sofas? OR whatever my MC will think about the room - maybe it's awesome flowered sofas!)

*huh?
**I'm a little confused here. Maybe find another way to relay the same information in a way that I can understand it better. I don't want to be lost in the action, or feel like I need to re-read a sentence to understand what's going on.

*re-phrase
** The way this is worded makes it sound like you're saying x,y, or z, when I don't think that's what you mean. You might want to re-check and make sure the meaning is clear.

* this word sounds too much like x.y.z character from another book you wrote
** (okay. this isn't an actual comment I'd leave, but I wanted to say that one of the most common character things I see, is that the characters in a book act and speak too similar to one another - when I've read for you on other projects, and can comment on your other characters, THEN I can leave one like the first)

*what??
**I don't feel like this action is something your MC would do. You haven't led up to this dramatic decision in a way I find believable. Make sure to give hints along the way. It's still shocking, so we'll be surprised, but we also need to understand WHY your mc did something - whether we agree with that action or not.

* Yeah. I'm not even going to TRY to keep up with how many times you say "just" - word search, I'm just sayin...
**I'm seeing "just" pop up a lot throughout your manuscript. I'd highlight them for you (but I'd gouge my eyes out), but it would be easier for you to do a command F search for that word and weed out as many as you can.

(BTW - I used this example because I had SO many in my last MS that it seriously took me a LONG time to weed them all out - it started to be comical. Or really, really depressing...)

I LOVE getting crits from new people, and I love to do crits - but it's like this whole - I have to get used to you, and you have to get used to me...

Just funny.
And random.
AND - if I've sucked at replying to your comment or getting to your blog its for several reasons.
1. Pure selfishness in that I have had VERY little computer time lately, and Vitollo and I are scrambling on a new project because we MUST - long story.
2. Family insanity that would bore anyone not me. Or make you feel sorry for me when you shouldn't. OR is probably something I shouldn't put up online...

SO! I'm curious on your beta readers, who they are, why they're awesome, if you find yourself always feeling a little lost/nervous/anxious when you first crit for someone new . . .

~ Jolene

Is It Getting Hot In Here??

2012-02-13T19:06:00.000-09:00

For the other entries go HERE:

I'm going to warn you that I'm totally using this bloghop to promote my books - it's less obnoxious if I just come right out and say it, right?? AND I couldn't decide which one to do so I did two.
AND - you can always just read ONE ;-D

This is from Night Sky, which comes out March 1st :D

“Tonight is me taking care of you.”

I step toward her and raise an eyebrow. I could think of a few ways I’d like to be taken care of.

“Puh-lease.” She pushes past me into my house, a large bag in her hand. “You’re an emotional wreck. And I know to guys, that doesn’t matter, but it does matter to girls. So. Tonight I’m going to be your friend.” She turns to face me.

“Sounds depressing,” I tease.

“Don’t tease.” Her eyes narrow.

“But I’ll want to kiss you all night, and if we’re friends, I won’t be able to.” I wonder if protesting will get me anywhere.

“Jameson. Just take it.” She tries to sound bored, tired.

“Okay.” But I haven’t seen her in days. I want something.

She stands looking at me. Her eyes widen. “You’re serious. Aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m serious!” I’ve been thinking about our kiss since she left.

“Fine, come here. Let’s get the kiss over with.” She rests against the counter and motions with her hand for me to step closer. Her face is flat. She looks almost bored.

“I’m sorry it’s so torturous for you.” I step closer. She’s so beautiful I feel it in my chest.

“It’s not.” She shakes her head. Her voice is soft. “Kissing you is like . . . it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt.” I watch her swallow. Does this mean she’s nervous? Is it possible for Sky to be nervous?

This makes me pause. I pause long enough to get my head on straight so I don’t devour her in needing our mouths together. I take the bag out of her hands and set it on the kitchen counter. I can hear her breathing change – it’s more shallow and loud. I’m thrilled to have this effect on her. I brush my lips against hers and open my mouth slightly before kissing her again. Her arms slide around my neck, bringing us together. Now it’s her who’s pressing herself against me, and her mouth that’s moving more urgently against mine. This is amazing. My body is both tense and warm with relaxation at the same time.

“You. Are. Dangerous.” She whispers in my ear.

My mouth tries desperately to pull into a grin. I try desperately to stop it. Because, really, I need to be cooler than that.

“Come on. Show me to your room.” She picks up her bag from the counter, and I know she’s purposefully keeping her eyes off mine.

“And pick up where we just left off?” I slide my fingers down her back. Her shirt is as soft as it looks.

“I’m re-thinking the whole honesty thing,” she teases.

And this is from Knee Deep, which comes out May 1st

Hetakes the one step back to where I’m standing and slides hisarms around my waist. His mouth is on mine, soft again, but his kiss is deep,and its like we both forget how to come up for air.

Thelight from the backyard streams through the blinds, striping the wall, stripinghis face, our bodies together.

“Ilove you, Ronnie,” he whispers between kisses. Kisses to my mouth, to my neck,my collarbone.

Isit on his bed, and he pulls off his shirt. And I’ve seen Shawn with his shirtoff loads of times. At the beach, in the backyard, but never like this. Neverjust to be closer to me. I’m totally high on the nervous energy low in mystomach, and I rest the flat of my hand on his broad chest. This is Shawn. I lovehim. What am I so worried about? My hand slides down his stomach until myfingers rest on the top of his pants.

Noway I can take the intensity of his eyes right now, so I give a little tug.

He’son top of me in moments. And it’s like I mean to tell him I’m happy I’m here.That I love him, but I can’t. There’s no room for words in what I’m feelingright now – there’s too much want.

Hishands slide through my hair, down my arms. We continue to kiss, and I don’tbreak away, I can’t. My body, my mouth has melted into his.

His fingers caress my waist and slide upmy tank top. I don’t even care. I want it. Him. More touching. My back arches,pressing our stomachs together, all of this feels so new – the very low placesI feel nervous tingling. The excitement of being this close to him coursesthrough my body.

Theheat of his skin drives my hands to touch more, and I pull him toward me, eventhough his weight’s already here. My knees pull up until his body’s restingbetween my legs. If we weren’t dressed, we’d be having sex, or almost havingsex. My stomach tightens both in nerves and finally, real anticipation.

And that's en excerpt from Knee Deep, which comes out in MAY!!!

You can find it on goodreads here :D

Seriously - the hardest part about doing blogfests where we post our writing, is that I sort of miss out on just chatting with my people, lol. What kind of question do I write after some kissing scenes??

Uh. How are ya??

~Jolene

Origins...

2012-02-12T13:44:00.000-09:00

For the other entries go HERE!!

Origins - cool idea for a blogfest, just asking us HOW we got started writing.

So, I was born on September fourteenth, nineteen . . .

Ok. I MAY not need to go back that far.

I wrote in elementary school, and thought that I couldn't do it as a career.
I loved to write in high school, but again, thought I might not be able to do it.
I was ALMOST an English major in college, but didn't think I'd be able to write anything people would want to read.

The crazy thing is that I've tried LOADS of new stuff figuring that if I'm having fun, I can still suck and it won't matter because I'm having fun.

For whatever crazy reason - writing never made that list.

(Keep in mind that I've ALWAYS written in some form or another, and have always kept notebooks in my car and journals next to my bed)

Now that I am writing, and see know how it takes over my brain (and my life), I'm thankful I didn't start earlier - even though I sometimes feel "behind" in age (this is silly, I know).

I started writing in the fall of 2009 when Mike (my husband) said something about how great my imagination was, and that I should write some stuff down for fun.

It seemed like a cool idea, and we were feeling broke and I was out of books, so I started writing my story. I played around with a few ideas, thinking that it was all going to be for fun. That I definitely wasn't doing it for anyone but me. One particular story really stuck with me so I kept going with it. Then my goal was to hit 100 pages. That happened early in 2010. When I did, there was a LOT more story to tell. So I told it. And wrote a whole novel almost by accident.

I was elated! The next book I got an idea for, I KNEW was going to be a whole book when I started (The Next Door Boys, which was picked up in January of 2011). I joined the writing blogosphere in the summer of 2010 - just then deciding that I really did want to actually write for real.

I've been writing "for real" for about two years, and I can't IMAGINE why I ever thought I couldn't do it.

What got you started??

Today Jolene Needs Your Help

2012-02-09T16:39:00.000-09:00

And from the title, you thought it might be like, you know, SERIOUS help.

It is not :-D

So, normally I'm the queen of justification. If someone wants to justify spending money, they call me. I'm my family's go-to person when they need a reason for a big purchase.

Shoes.
Artwork.
Cars.
Airplane.
Shoes.
Ridiculously over-priced jeans.
Ridiculously over-priced bras/underwear (only way to go)
Dresses.
Dogs.
Shoes.
Exercise equipement...

I think you get the idea.

Here's what Jolene needs help with.

I want an iPhone.

Bad.

But I'm already obsessive about twitter and email, so I'm thinking it would NOT be healthy. Sigh.
At the same time - it would be SO convenient. And after my post on *ahem* spending habits, I probably can't afford it.

I'm going to list reason number one why it IS a good idea, and then YOU guys need to help me with all the reasons that I need an iPhone, instead of my stupid, old regular phone (even though I love that it's orange).

Jolene's reason #1.
A phone that plays music? Where ringtones for my people could be song that reminds me of them?? Some of which I hope that person NEVER hears??
MADE. OF. WIN.

Now YOU go!! Help me, please! Justify!! Reasons Jolene MUST have an iPhone -
And then I will show this list to my husband (and mostly to myself 'cause he won't care) the day we get our tax return money...

(and for those of you who get all bend out of shape when I'm "off the grid" I will be out at the cabin this weekend. No internet - actually, this should go on the list of reasons I need an iphone...)

~Jolene

Diane Alberts and the Road to Publication

2012-02-08T00:45:00.000-09:00

Lauren (my agent) has signed a few more people recently, one of which is Diane Alberts, who is a multi-published author with Entangled Press.
I wanted to know a bit more about her publishing experience, so I ASKED HER!

Here's what we discussed - I will say that she did an excellent job deciphering my questions ;-D

Why get an agent now? Are you changing genres? Do you think she can do better in your contracts?

(Diane's a successful writer on her own, so I wanted to know what prompted the switch)

I primarily write romance, but I actually do have a YA book I need shopped around, and I was hoping she can help me with that. Having an agent in your corner just seems like a smart thing for any career writer to do--and I'm definitely in this for the long haul. I want to have books all over the place. So much, that people get sick of seeing my face.

(To be honest, I'd kind of love this, too)

Yes, I am in with Entangled, and Decadent, and love it! I plan on publishing many, many books with them--if they'll have me. But there might be books that aren't a good fit for them, or that they don't wish to acquire. Lauren can them use her contacts to get me into places I can't go. I dream of someday being in with Harlequin, or Penguin, or Zebra. Harper Collins, etc. These are all places I myself can't submit to, so Lauren is a valuable asset in those circumstances as well.

And contracts can be confusing! As I branch out and write more, it just makes sense to have her in my corner. (I'm definitely in agreement here, and not just with contracts, but with publisher follow-through on the contracts)

I also think a lot of people don't feel "real" until they have an agent, and in a sense that is me. It's nice to have someone like your work enough to want to help you publish it--all of it! It's a relationship that will blossom with each book, and create a deep friendship. Who wouldn't want a friend in their corner fighting for their publishing rights? Plus, how cool is it to say: "I'll have to check with my agent on that."

(I'm a dork - I LOVE it when my agent calls and I can be like - sorry, it's my agent, I have to get this. OR - let me check with my agent and I'll get back to you, OR I'm waiting for an email from my agent... you get the idea. It's like how excited my husband was to finally carry a badge after working toward law enforcement. Kind of. Only she's my AGENT, lol - so, aside from the practical aspects, the superficial ones are great, too)

In all seriousness, though, agents can do so much for authors we can't do ourselves. From getting in with publishers who only accept agented authors, to movies, to big number advances. This is stuff agents do, that I myself have no clue how to do! I'm thrilled to begin the new road to career authoring with Lauren by my side. She rocks!

(Lauren is SO easy to talk to, and SO easy to work with and she never feels like I'm insane or rambling - even though I often am)

I'm also curious about your initial road to publication. How the first book came about. Did you ever work a multi-book deal or did you just keep writing?

I've never made a multi-book deal...but I'd like to. I do have a sort-of multi book deal in the works--but it's not announcement-worthy yet. Nothing is concreted or announced as of now. But my road to publication was a long one.

I wrote my first book, Reclaimed, over two years ago. I went through long rounds of submissions and getting rejections. With some rejections came advice. With that advice...I polished, rewrote, and revised incessantly. I didn't start another book. I focused on this first novel, and never gave up. Then, last year, I got the "yes" from Decadent Publishing!

I went on to write a novella after that, and haven't stopped writing yet. I'm pleased to say I have no unpubbed stories--they have all found a home. I'm dedicated to them all finding homes. I'm not the type to give up and hide a book away. Nope. I keep on trying until it's polished enough to get the "yes."

I currently, as of this date, have seven books with contracts, one novella out for consideration with my editor, one finished novel out with a critique partner, one half finished novel, and one just began writing on it novella.

(And then I had more questions)

Genre flipping - yes or no - and feel free to answer in as short or lengthy an answer as you wish.

Well, to an extent it's okay. I myself generally write romance, but I enjoy YA, too. So, I wrote one! So, I think once you've made a name in the business, maybe had a few books out, trying out something new is okay.

I wouldn't go above two genres, though. I'd stick with two main ones, or else you're too much over the map. I see a lot of writer's who do adult romance and then YA as well.

You can find Diane Alberts on her website and blog HERE.

And on goodreads HERE.

Before I was published, it felt SO good to hear someone else's story - like, hey! It really does, actually happen!! Even though the massive volumes on amazon should be enough . . .

~ Jolene

Reviews, Maturity, and People who should go back to middle school

2012-02-06T00:35:00.000-09:00

I don't star books if I want to give them less than three, and I usually don't have a lot to say if I didn't like something.

The thing is - I see SO many one-star reviews where people have put some serious amount of time into their one-star review.

(this is NOT in reaction to any reviews my book has gotten - just from a few books that I love)

Really??
You hated it so much that you wasted an hour of your life pulling in quotes from another book? Or tearing apart each and every chapter? You wrote between 500 and 1400 words on something you DIDN'T LIKE??
Does this make any sense at ALL?

(I always check reviews after reading something I liked - and yes, after reading a few scathing one-star reviews on books I thought were fab, I went to some of my other favorite books and looked for one-star reviews to see how reviewers handled them, and I have to say that if they went longer than a paragraph, they were snarky more often than not. Also - there's NOTHING wrong with hating a book. NOTHING at all. But there is a helpful way to hate a book and leave a review, and way that . . . well . . . means you might be stuck in middle school)

Can't we all just get along . . . ?

What's funny about the whole thing, is this:

When I get out of high school and went to college I thought - awesome. People will act their age.
And they didn't.
And then I started my "real" job as a high school teacher after college, and I thought - now I'm dealing with professionals, and they'll act like it.
And they didn't.
My husband went to law school and thought - NOW, surely people will act mature, and responsible . . .
And they didn't.
And then Mike started working as a lawyer, and the petty crap that he sees attorneys arguing over makes him crazy even though he really, really thought - hey, we're all adults with doctoral degrees, we should be mature!
But they aren't.
It's a hard thing to deal with. It's a sucky thing to deal with. But deal with it we will.

So, yeah. Even in a community of writers, readers, and reviewers, (who are all generally made of awesome) we'll run across the occasional troll.

The things is - life is too short to spend time tearing someone down when there are so many places to use our powers for good ;-D

Here's for comments today:

Not to me - but just pay someone a random compliment in the comments, or share something awesome someone said about you.

I'll go first. It's easy.

(random compliment directed at me)
1. You make me laugh.
2. You come up with the best ideas.

(random compliment directed at someone I might know . . .)
3. The ladybug on your blog makes me happy :D

(random compliment directed at another of my favorite people)
4. I've learned more about writing from you than anyone else.

Your turn.

Perfection v. Perfect Fits

2012-02-02T11:24:00.000-09:00

My husband and I are a really bad combination.

You just took this totally wrong, I can tell.

Let me explain:

Me: Wait. You just spent how much on ammunition for your "man weekend"?
Mike: About 200 dollars.
Me: You know those boots I was just looking at?
Mike: Go right ahead, he says with a big smile before I even have to ask.

This makes him the good guy for encouraging spending large amounts of money on shoes.

This makes us a terrible fit because we can't afford for me to spend the same amount as him and vice versa. We SHOULD be taking turns.

But we don't. He blew up 200 dollars worth of ammunition over the weekend, while I wore my delicious new boots. Happy thing for me? My new boots are STILL bringing me happy. His ammo is GONE.

We also don't argue about money (because we've come to accept the fact that we will always be broke).

I love it in books when people's imperfections are the things that make them perfect for the other person. I also love it when characters share imperfections - whether they realize it or not.

(Fortunately both Mike and I are very aware of our spending habit flaws)

I also love the idea in a love story that the opposite person is the only person or at least the best person who can fill that role.

Kelley and I wrote a collab, and this information seems useless until I share with you the reason for this info below:
Kelley wrote Dylan who is a guy who needs a girl to level him out a little bit, take his ego down a notch. But he also needs someone smart enough to keep up with him and to challenge him.
Ziah needs a guy who will help her loosen up and feel passionate, but she also needs someone smart enough to keep up with her.
They're both prideful, and both stubborn - so I love that they share those attributes, but they both also have an almost opposite need filled by the other.
THIS is my favorite part about writing love stories - creating that need, and then finding a way for the other character to fill it in a unique and interesting way.

(For those of you whose mind just went into the erotica gutter, pull it back out... ;-)

This is partially unrelated BUT it's always fun to share happy news :D
Kelley Vitollo sold her book, Chasing Normal to Crescent Moon Press - and talk about making a "perfect fit" between characters - LOVE. You can add it to your goodreads list HERE!!

Any favorite love stories out there?
Any favorite ways to write love stories?
Favorite love-story characters?
Just want to scream a congrats to Kelley??

Crossing Genres by Kelly Hashway

2012-01-31T08:51:00.000-09:00

Kelly Hashway is a fellow author, also agented by Lauren Hammond. She was nice enough to have me on her blog when The Next Door Boys was released, and offered again with the upcoming release of Night Sky. She is just one of those incredibly nice people I've met since joining the writing blogosphere, and she has some serious words of wisdom to share, as well as a GORGEOUS new cover :D

And now Kelly takes over!

Crossing Genres

When I decided I wanted to pursue a career in writing, I had every intention of writing books for the 8-12 age group. I loved middle grade books. I was a middle school teacher, so it made sense for me to write for this age group. But then my daughter was born. I was spending a good portion of my day reading picture books, and she loved them so much, she'd ask for specific stories. The only problem was I couldn't find books about the exact things she was looking for. My picture book career began with my daughter asking me to write her stories about things she loved. So I did. And it was a blast.

But I didn't want to write picture books alone. Yes, they are fun to write and I love reading to young kids, but I always dreamed of writing novels. So I returned to writing for middle graders. Except I soon realized my characters were older than I'd thought. I was writing for teens. The stories I came up with were suited to teens. So I hit the library and started reading every YA book I could get my hands on. I loved them. They brought back memories and made me realize how emotional the teen experience is. I wanted to tap into that.

So I channeled my inner teen (I'm not entirely sure I outgrew her. Part of me refuses to grow up.) and I wrote several YA manuscripts. And to my surprise, it was one of my YA novels that my agent sold first. I couldn't be happier about it either.

Will I continue to write picture books and middle grade novels. Yes, if those are the stories that come to me. I've learned you have to go with whatever story you feel you need to tell. Don't lock yourself into one age group or one genre because you never know what you'll be good at until you try.

You can find Kelly here:

http://kellyhashway.blogspot.com

http://www.kellyhashway.com

https://twitter.com/#!/kellyhashway

http://www.facebook.com/kellyhashway

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4528793.Kelly_Hashway

I'm ALL for genre switching, even though MOST of what I write is YA Contemp. - how do you feel?

~Jolene

The Depressing, Depressing Truth

2012-01-29T09:27:00.000-09:00

Ready?

I'm right now wondering how many people looked at the title of this post and thought - "yeah . . . I'll be skipping Jolene's today . . ."

Querying is rough. Part of you, if you're like me, thinks - as soon as I get a request for a partial or full, I'm IN. No one will be able to say no after reading my book!

Wrong.

Mashing together stats from a bunch of agents, maybe 1 in 4 of 5 fulls gets picked up, and 1 in 10 - 20 partials get a request for a full (these are numbers I compiled last spring when I was still querying.

So. That's the sad part. (I'm telling you this because the first time I got a request for more, I thought - THIS IS IT!!)

The happy side of this is that getting a request for a full or partial means free agent feedback. And by "free" I mean the hours and hours you've spent writing, and revising, and researching, and querying, and not sleeping . . . ;-D

THEN you get an agent. YIPPEE!! Smooth sailing from HERE. ON. OUT.

Wrong.

Your agent does the same thing you did to get the agent.

They help you "fix" your MS. They research places it's most likely to sell. They write a letter. They send it out. And you wait. And wait. And wait . . .

And then. Just like when you got a request for more (or similar) the editor says - Hey, I really love this. I'm going to send it one or two more people here, and then we'll take it to our board to see if we can publish it.

I mean. This is it. Right? Once the editor falls in love with your work - the rest is smooth sailing. Right? RIGHT?

Wrong. Well. Not always. I don't have stats on how many books the editors try to pitch that don't make it versus how many that do. I DO know that it can't be too many, because at a certain point, the publishing house would just let them go.

Here's the thing. It's all madness. It's all long. It's all stressful even when you really, really, really, don't want it to be.

I know. You're waiting for the silver lining, right??

Next time you're in your local bookstore, know what all those people (or most of them) did to get there, and know that you can, too. It just might take a while.

And that's my sobering outlook on the publishing industry in 1000 words or less.

But it's oh so worth it - even if we might have to go to the hairdresser more than we'd like to cover the grey hairs that may or may not be popping up.

~ Jolene

And That's All I Have to Say About That

2012-01-26T13:10:00.000-09:00

So, I had in this whole long rambling post about books, and reviews, and editing, and tailoring to a specific audience, only to have that occasionally backfire on all sides, but none of it really mattered.

Here's what matters out of the LONG post I just hit delete on:

(And yes, of COURSE this is just my opinion - and that's worth what you pay for it, as my dad would say)

You know how there's all that advice out there about ignore the market, ignore everything but writing the best story you can in the best way you know how.

Listen to it.

Because more than anything else (unless all you want is to make loads of money) you need to feel good about what you put into the world.

There is NO way everyone is going to like your book. No way. But YOU need to love every piece of it. This is the number one most important thing I think I've learned (outside of craft). But I readily concede that we're not all the same way. I've read interviews with several authors who said they turned their contemp into a paranormal to make it sell, and it did.

Something I try to remember the whole time I'm writing - do I love the idea? Really, really love it enough to do the story justice?
If I don't want to jump up and say yes then I either need a break from it (because as writers we all have highs and lows) or I need to find a different story to tell. (This works for me. Might not work for you.)

And I had to share this quote:

“I'VE LEARNED THAT YOU CAN'T CONTROL WHAT OTHER PEOPLE ARE GOING TO THINK ABOUT YOU.
THE BEST YOU CAN DO IN LIFE IS NOT PISS YOURSELF
OFF.”
― Megan McCafferty, Second Helpings

And that's all I have to say about that.

I will say that a LOT of people disagree - so what do you do?
Write to the market?
Write what you want?
Or push yourself until you fall in love with an idea you think will sell?

~Jolene

My Agent

2012-01-24T15:36:00.000-09:00

Shh, Shhh, secret agent . . . dum, dum, dum.
OK. I clearly have watched too much Backyardigans with my kids. If you don't know what I'm talking about, ignore this. If you do. Let me apologize now for the song that will be stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

OH-Kay.

I've wanted to do this FOREVER, but timing just seemed good.
My agent, Lauren, agreed to answer a few questions about her job as an agent :D
So - HERE YA GO!

How do you approach queries and pages. Do you start with the query or the pages?

Pages. Always pages. Some people can't write a good query, but can write an amazing book. So I'm a pages first kinda girl.

What is the most common mistake you see in queries?

After I read the pages I'll go back in and read the query. I know it's kind of strange that I do it backwards, but that's just how I prefer to do things.

I wouldn't really say there are mistakes, but there are things that irk me. If you're querying me never ever tell me your book is the best darn book ever written.

I'll decide that for myself if I choose to request it.

At what point do you stop reading a sample of writing?

Chapter three. If I'm not pulled into the book by the third chapter it's a no go for me.

What do you see too much of?

Paranormal romances. I'm not taking anymore at the moment.

What's on your wish list?

I'm dying for some good horror novels and contemporary romances.

What's the best part about your job as an agent?

My clients of course :)

And the fact that I get to read all day.

What's been selling? (genre-wise, or whatever you want to talk about here)

Honestly, I know I say this a lot, but there is no specific genre that sells better than the other. What sells is a great book and a great book in any genre can sell - all it takes is that one person to love it.

Thanks so much for having me, Jo! This was fun!

<3 Lauren

I'm going to share a few things I LOVE about my agent.

I sent her this random email over the weekend, thinking she'd get back to me sometime the next week. She called me that night.
It was 9PM my time. This means it was 1 AM her time.
What did we discuss??
The movie she just saw.
Breaking Dawn.
I mean, we did discuss the writing stuff I had going on, but who on earth calls their client back on the way home from a movie?

Too fun.

Also, she starts most of her emails to me with
Hey Jo,
And they end with
<3 Lauren

Also, she writes, so she understands the craft of putting a story together, and the urgency that we, as writers, feel in wanting our people and stories OUT THERE!!

There is NO WAY to have a subdued conversation about anything with Lauren. She is way too enthusiastic. AND that means she's pretty excited about anything and everything I send her way. She's a fabulous cheerleader. I need that.
She's also an amazing salesperson - I could NEVER push and sell my writing the way she does. EVER. And the woman knows her way around a publishing contract - SO important.

I said this in my post a LONG time ago - it's not just about finding an agent, you need to find the agent that's right for YOU.

You can find Lauren HERE at the ADA Management site, and HERE on her blog.

So, if you're agented, what's the favorite thing about your agent?
And if not, what do you think will be most important to you??

Ahead, Behind, and Goals

2012-01-22T13:15:00.000-09:00

I've had several friends over the last little bit tell me - You're so far ahead of me!!

I laugh every time I hear this because I don't think there's any such thing.

My goals are VERY different from a lot of other writers. I think MOST of us have very different goals as writers, so what makes one person "ahead" of another?

Is it the number of books out?

If you have an agent or not?
(Cause not everyone wants an agent - there are plenty of mid-sized publishers who don't require one - I'd STILL recommend it b/c of MY experience, but it's not for everyone)

Is it the size of agency your agent belongs to?

Is it the size of the pub house?

Is it how many different places have published one of your books?

How many books you've sold?

Here's the thing. My goal is VERY, very simple. (Well, in my mind) Now that I'm about to write it out, it might not be as simple as I was thinking.

I LOVED teaching high school and middle school. LOVED. I wouldn't trade those years for anything. And I can see myself going back to coach track or do theater, but not to teach. I'd love to make just enough money writing that we could actually save money. Or maybe take a small family vacation every couple of years. I don't expect that my life will ever drastically change because I'm a published author.

The ALMOST most important thing to me is getting my stories out there, but if that were truly the most important then I'd just be self-pubbing as soon as I finish each one, and I'm obviously not doing that.

I'd love to keep writing LDS novels and selling them to all my momo peeps and the people who think it's fun to read about us crazy Mormons.

I'd love to write some books to have on ebook only.

And yes. I'd love to sell at least a few books in my life to larger publishers.

But I'd also like to think I have a pretty relaxed attitude about the whole thing. (Kelley Vitollo is laughing right now because I dump my neurosis on her often)

I have an agent who is a riot and a half to work with - whose phone calls and little <3 crack me up.
She JUST got me a two-book deal with an epublisher that I'm WAY excited about, I have an LDS publisher who has taught me SO much about the publishing industry, and books on sub that I hope to have news on soon.

So, yeah. My writing life is good.

And this is seriously the MOST CLICHE thing ever, but it really, honestly, seriously, is NOT about the destination. It's about the process. Our life is about the process. Everything we do is SO much more about what we get from the journey than what we get when we reach our destination.

(and yes, if this were on a t-shirt, I'd roll my eyes and make fun)

What I'm really trying to say here is : relax. it'll happen. enjoy whatever's going on in your life right now, OR at least realize there's something to be learned from it. I couldn't even BEGIN to tell you how many rejections I've gotten - whether from agents or publishers, but there are a LOT. It's all part of it. And it's all worth it for the ones that say - Yes. We love your story.

What are you learning right now in your writing life - no matter where you are in the process?

Because I know I need constant reminders that I'm supposed to be enjoying the journey, not just looking to whatever's coming up next.

~ Jolene

PS I'm guesting over at Jen's UNEDITED today!!

Announcement of Happiness!!

2012-01-19T16:26:00.000-09:00

Lauren (my agent of awesomeness) and I were talking about my projects and places and publishers, and, and, and . . .
She mentioned Tribute Books, who are in the process of shifting their entire focus to YA.
They've been around for a long time, and half of what they do is promotion for other publishers. It seemed like a good fit, and like a fun publisher to work with, so we submitted Night Sky. And then because Lauren is Lauren and is awesome at pushing books, we sent them another one when they liked the first.

Tribute's trusting me with not just one, but TWO of my books in their transition into publishing solely for the YA market. I'm ECSTATIC that Tribute books will be publishing Night Sky (March 2012) and Knee Deep (May 2012)!

They're serious about getting my stuff together, and even sent a cover idea with the offer to publish Night Sky.

Below is the final :D

After losing Sarah, the friend he’s loved, to some other guy, Jameson meets Sky. Her Native American roots, fluid movements, and need for brutal honesty become addictive fast. This is good. Jameson needs distraction – his dad leaves for another woman, his mom’s walking around like a zombie, and Sarah’s new boyfriend can’t keep his hands off of her.

As he spends time with Sky and learns about her village, her totems, and her friends with drums - she's way more than distraction. Jameson's falling for her fast.

But Sky’s need for honestly somehow doesn’t extend to her life story – and Jameson just may need more than his new girl to keep him distracted from the disaster of his senior year.

Isn't it PREETTY???
And since I know the story so well, I LOVE how much they captured here.

So, yeah. Jolene's in happy writer land right now.

It's on goodreads :D

;-D
~ Jolene

Lists and Tension

2012-01-17T16:33:00.000-09:00

I feel like each time I finish writing a new project, and each time I do a crit for someone else, I come up with a new strategy to improve my writing. Aaaand, I used to be a high school teacher, so for me to really learn something well, I need to put it in a formula where I COULD teach it.

I wrote a thing on this a while back in in questions to ask your self while writing - 1. What does my character want? 2. How do I stop them from getting it?

Here's some randomness to add to that tension building:

I think most books can be separated into sections, so here's an example of a project that I finished a while ago:

1. Initial meeting and dislike

2. Second meeting and truce (ends with going too far, which catapults the tension right back up)

3. Doubt

4. Another buildup and mixed feelings on where relationship stands

5. Moving forward is followed immediately by disaster.

6. Makeup (ending) - each knowing they screwed up, and having NO idea what the other wants.

This is a dual pov book, so it's especially important that I cut out before we know fully what one character plans to do to get what they want UNLESS we know that strategy won't work.

The initial tension from the very first meeting are these two things-
1. the boyfriend of the girl,
2. the anti-relationship feeling for the guy - those things are a source of tension through almost the ENTIRE book.

BUT as they start to be attracted to one another, the tension changes. When one of the two ignores that attraction, the tension changes. When the girl splits with her boyfriend, the tension changes. When the guy realizes he might be falling for her (only he totally doesn't want to) the tension changes. BUT they're just adding to the initial concerns, which are STILL THERE.

IF your readers are telling you that the story's dragging in a specific place, or if you're not sure about how to add tension in a scene, I find this way helpful. It's also good for story arc -
your character in a given situation, should react differently at the end of your book than they would have at the beginning, or they really haven't changed or grown at all, thus negating one of the main purposes in writing their story.
My advice is to make a list of all the places and all of the things that are pressures on the character for each section of your book. Look at where the sources of tension are the same. Watch the pattern of when and how they change.

So, the sources of tension from the beginning are present throughout the WHOLE book. But each time you hit one of these markers, a new source of tension is added. You can't ignore the older sources of tension, and you have to look for all of the possible sources of tension as each new threat comes. We need to be reminded of these things. We need to FEEL all the reasons why your MC is sure they won't get to have what they want.

This is especially important where you're in a multi-pov book, because some of the mystery is gone when we're in more than one head.

How do you make sure that your story continues to move forward?
Where do you find your tension?
What books have you read lately that you COULD NOT put down?

Sugar, Chocolate, and Books

2012-01-15T14:22:00.000-09:00

When I have my favorite snack in front of me...

Salt, dark chocolate and toffee? Yes, please. Also, I have to drive 50 miles to Anchorage for these bars, and they're worth it.

I rarely open a bag without polishing it off the same day

I blame my husband for these, because I never buy the things, but they're just so cute, bite sized, and deliciously sugary.

And I KNOW as I sit with my bag of potato chips/chocolate/sugar that I've probably eaten more than I realize, but I think - eh, just ONE more. ONE more.

One more.

And then I KNOW (again) that I've definitely crossed the line between snacking and gorging myself, and then I think - this is NOT going to look good on my arse, but at this point, I might as well eat the rest of the stupid bag and get it over with. And then I tell myself that I'll run an extra mile tonight, or do a couple extra miles on the bike (in my pathetic defense, I nearly always do)

This is what it's like to read a really, really good book.

One more chapter.

Crap - kindle says I only have 30% left, that's NOTHING, and it's not midnight... quite yet... I could probably get away with not climbing out of bed 'til eight tomorrow...

And yep - $0.99 to $8.99 devoured in a few hours. And SO worth it. AND doesn't really change my arse any ;-D

Happy Monday and welcome to my post of randomness...

Favorite snack?

Favorite books?

Specific snacks to go with specific types of books?? Because I know you're out there . . .

Last Five

2012-01-12T16:42:00.000-09:00

BOOKS I'VE READ LATELY

So, remember when Anna and the French Kiss came out and everyone raved and raved and raved about it? I read it, and I loved it, but there were a few (little) things that tainted the book for me.

This one (in my mind) did EVERYTHING right.

LOVED everything about it.

LOVED Cricket.

LOVED the ending.

LOVED the setting.

LOVED the unique and quirky characters.

The first kiss knocked my socks off and I immediately re-read the last two chapters when I finished.

I NEVER do that.

I also forced myself to read this one slow, and I almost never do that either.

I LOVED the premise of this book - Indigo's ex-boyfriend wrote a song about her that made it big, and now she's trying to hide from the image of her portrayed in the song while wading through high school.

This book just fell short for me, which is sad because it could have been awesome.

FYI - you cannot put TWO teens who don't immediately check voicemail and texts opposite each other in the same book. I don't believe you.

I DID love this author's other book - Pure Red, so I'll read more from her.

If I sat down and really dug into this book, I'd probably find loads of little annoying, almost unbelievable things, but it was too cute for words and a nice short read.

Also - insecure girl and football guys was just a FUN mix.

And I'm making this statement for both this book and for Lola - WHY can't publishers put the people on the cover to look as quirky as they do in the story??

Kelley Vitollo turned me on to this book.

I blazed through it. There was some GREAT sexual tension and SUPER FUN ENDING.

So - if you're looking for a sexy, fun, YA read - this is your book.

I forgot that I'd read this book recently, which is probably a bad sign, and also sort of ironic given the title.

I think this cover is awesome.

This was an interesting story that was a lot of fun.

I WISH this end was tied up just a TEENY bit more, even though - yeah, I knew the direction her life was about to take. Not fabulous, but really, really good.

I have a fun little story to share with this book -

I was on twitter and complained that I wanted both this book and Dessen's new book, but they were SO expensive in hardback and the author sent me a tweet -

Send me your addy and I'll mail it tomorrow.

AND. SHE. DID.

I have a signed copy that I devoured in two nights.

I used Romeo and Juliet in a book (that may or may not be part of some news I can share soon) and it was just fun to see this author's take on the story.

This book was equal parts nail-biting action and swoon-worthy moments.

SO - what have YOU read lately??

Wanna share??
OR - want to share what you're MOST looking forward to out of your TBR pile?

Daydreaming to Writing

2012-01-10T16:39:00.000-09:00

So, I wrote this post last week where I mentioned Stephanie Perkins and her book, Lola and The Boy Next Door, and how she day dreams to help her really dig into her story.

When I decide to daydream and not write, here's what happens -

I forced myself to not write on my WIP. It had been through one reader, and I wanted to let it sit before doing another once over to prepare it for my second reader.
The thing is that I thought if I day dreamed about it long enough that something amazing would come to me, some brand new depth. Something that would make it the best book EVER.

What I actually got was a lot of really fun scenes that didn't move the plot forward at ALL

And then every time I came up with a cool scene, and then did my editing thing and thought about what I would learn in that scene, or why it was necessary, I realized I had that same info somewhere else, in a better format.

So.

I have to daydream BEFORE I write. The problem is the moment I have a daydream, I have something TO write, so really. I'm just writing . . .

I'm curious.

Do you daydream about your people, and does it help or do you just find yourself like me - frantic for a piece of paper or your keyboard?

The Most Common Stuff I Do and See

2012-01-08T15:13:00.000-09:00

I do a LOT of crits because I like doing them, and because I NEED a lot of readers because I write fast. And WOW that last sentence was a disaster. (b-b-b-b because)

I am still, and have been guilty of ALL OF THESE THINGS, just so you don't think I'm sitting here going do this and don't do that . . . (I'm totally picturing this really prissy ballet teacher I had in elementary right now. Glasses, a stick she'd bang the rhythm on, and LOTS and lots of wrap skirts)

First thing -

Info dumping.
(If Lisa, one of my first readers, saw me writing about this, she'd LAUGH. My first MS was a DISASTER)

Sometimes I feel like the author is trying to get us through information to get us to the next really good part. Does that make sense?
If you, as the author, aren't taking your time with each and every scene - making the stakes high in each and every scene - you're missing opportunities.
If there is no one thing the MC wants in any given scene, or no way to keep that thing from him/her then it doesn't need to be part of your book. Spread the info out through the natural thought process. Don't give us the info and then break into the action. We won't care. We'll skip what might be vital info in favor of simply needing to know what happens next.

Don't be afraid to be in EACH and EVERY moment.

I notice really random things. My parents have been in commercial flooring since before I was born. I ALWAYS notice the floors in the buildings I'm in. One of my characters always notices smells. Leigh, from the Next Door Boys, is always looking at what people are wearing. What does your character notice about their surroundings?

I think that SO many stories cover WAY more ground and have WAY more happen in them than necessary. REALLY think about this - what do we need to know to get the main crux points in the story - whether they're action or emotional, or better yet - a combination of the two?

I'm going to refer to Wintergirls again as being a book that SO takes in each and every little moment. DeStefano did a good job with that in Wither as well. When three pages span only minutes, I'm riveted. Well, you know, unless the writing sucks ;-D

SO - random question - What does your character notice about other people and/or their surroundings?? (I love it when you guys play along)

(And then ask to yourself - how is this different from how the other characters see the world?
Added source of tension, people . . .)

Next pop on over to Cassie Mae's site :D She's a fab writer who is all kinds of awesome!

Also, I love that y'all don't even comment when I change up my blog anymore. Like - "oh yeah, that crazy been writing? chick can't leave the thing alone . . ."

Chillax

2012-01-05T15:31:00.000-09:00

WARNING: this post got WAY longer than intended.

When I started reading Lola and the Boy Next Door, I popped on over to the author's blog site.

(on a random side note - her agent is the first agent I ever queried. And, uh, no, I did not sign with the first agent I queried. Ahem.)

Stephanie Perkins (author) was talking about how she was working on Isla and the Happily Ever After, and really wanted to slow down and take in the whole story, and really know and feel each and every part of it. She used the word daydream, and I totally got that. I love daydreaming about my people.

Why can't I do that more?

I mean. I do, do that. I obsess about all the details. I live the scenes in my head. When I do it right, I live each scene through each character. I do research on things that might come up in my story, or things I think the MC is into, even if those things don't make it into the book. I make playlists, and find pictures.
I read the book with character one in mind, and then character two, and so on . . .

But I know I CAN write fast, and so sometimes, it makes me want to write everything fast. Sometimes I push things out, that need more "thinking" time. More "daydreaming" time.

I sat down and wrote out my "What I wrote in 2011" just for fun.

Here are the COMPLETE first drafts from last year:

Manipulation
Night Sky
The Things We Carry
Knee Deep
Dizzy (joint)
Finding Amanda
Jennie
Displacement
Iris #1

I got to the halfway point on four novels:
Mia's Story
Ryan's story
Grace/Nica/DeLacey (this one I'm purposefully writing SLOWLY - I hope it doesn't get finished for at least another year)
Katee/David/Lance

Yes, my books are named after characters until I find the thread I need for the title.

I did revisions on these:
Night Sky - polished and in the hands of agent magic
Displacement - I THINK it's ready for my agent - OR I need another reader.
Insight - two major rewrites, now with a beta reader
Manipulation - polished and ready, waiting for book one to be ready, which is Insight
Joy - polished and in hands of agent magic
Dizzy - polished and in hands of agent magic
Knee Deep - polished and in the hands of agent magic
Finding Amanda - polished, but now re-thinking
Jennie - gone through one reader. Need to find another one (anyone want to read a unique genie/three-wishes YA story for me? Alternating POV?)
After All - minor revisions (a book I wrote in 2010, just got back from a reader - nearly ready for my publisher)

I'm actually embarrassed to put all this up here. It just feels . . . weird.

And for some reason I feel the need to keep pushing.
Really??

At what point is enough, enough??

I KNOW I push myself too hard. I know this.
The problem is that I like it. I like pushing through things. I love the sense of accomplishment.
I love reading and re-reading and living and breathing a book, but I need a break from them, and the only way to make THOSE voices shut up, is to let new voices in.

The thing is. If I'd written half of one novel last year, that would have been an awesome accomplishment.
If I'd written twice as many as I did - that, too, would have been a major accomplishment.

But do you know how I feel?

I feel like that quote I shared from Wintergirls.

“The number doesn't matter. If I got down to 070.00, I'd want to be 065.00. If I weight 010.00, I wouldn't be happy until I got down to 005.00. The only number that would ever be enough is 0. Zero pounds, zero life, size zero, double-zero, zero point. Zero in tennis is love. I finally get it.”
― Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls

The thing is - I'm HAPPY. My house isn't perfect, but it's okay.
My brain is often only half-present, but I've always been that way - at least I have an excuse now.
I hang with my kids in the tee-pee my husband built for them (real sticks that shed on the floor) and we play legos, and when Jack gets his Wii time, I snuggle with him on the couch and work away on the computer (like right now - I'm writing this to the background music of Lego - Pirates of the Caribbean).

It's not perfect, but it works.
Mostly.
I still need to S.L.O.W. D.O.W.N.
But you know what? I'm a work in progress.

So, even though I'm not a big believer in New Year's resolutions - because you can make a change at ANY freaking time - my goal this year is to slow down.

Well, and take my vitamins.
Oh. And to be better about exercising . . . ;-O

I'd like to know one thing you hope for this year - and it would be cool if it was introspective, and relied wholly on YOU.
Saying you want an agent or a book deal or whatever, that's great, but out of your control.
I want to hear about something that's IN your control.
Or tell me a knock-knock joke. Because the banana one is getting REALLY old.

I can BREATHE AGAIN!!

2012-01-03T14:50:00.000-09:00

How ARE my blogging people???

Seriously, I thought that I really needed/wanted the break, but yanno, sometimes once you get what you want, you don't want it anymore.

It maybe has to do with that whole - grass is greener syndrome.

SO - I could give you the long version of what I survived over my holiday break - but I'll just cut right to the end because there was so much back and forth on twitter over this little trip.

I went out to my parents' cabin in Petersville, Alaska.

Petersville is 90 miles into nothingness.

No running water.

No electricity.

(okay, we finally put in a generator so we could charge up the battery for reading lights - each bunk has one - and so we can watch movies)

I got these hysterical emails from Kelley and Steph demanding to know WHY they were not contacted before my absence. Love ya girls ;-D

THIS is what I was doing:

THE CABIN

THE OUTHOUSE

Yes, the outhouse. I was given no end of grief on twitter over this one (insert eyeroll)

1. It doesn't smell in the winter

2. There's a PORCH to it.

3. After lighting a few candles, it's almost warmer than outside :D

Oh, yeah. And those little people are my kids. In the summer you can walk underneath the walkway without ducking.

The temp INSIDE the cabin.

Fahrenheit.

Better than the temps OUTSIDE the cabin.

We never go when it's this cold, but we spent too much money on fireworks to turn back ;-D

And you thought I was kidding.

We lit off fireworks until our fingers and toes were so cold they no longer functioned.

(BTW - this hill is almost vertical. Sometimes pics really make high-speed things look really lame)

My family doesn't know how to do anything in small groups - even in tight spaces. Everyone but me is in this pic. Cause, yanno, I was taking the pic.

Mike and I getting ready to take a ride. My blue snow pants just make me happy :D

Well, and so does Mike.

(I know, some of you just gagged a little)

Funny side note - my computer is on my back b/c the tiny lodge nearby has WIFI!!

YAY!!

Sunrise at the cabin.

Oh!

The fireworks are fun, but THIS is why we really come up.

To burn gas, and play in the DEEP snow.

And this is mid-afternoon up here. That's about as high as the sun gets this time of year.

Not great for driving, but fab for pics.

Tell me what y'all have been doing? Good news? Family fun? Anything interesting?
Friday I might post something about . . . you know . . . WRITING :D

Chapter Five

2012-01-02T16:00:00.000-09:00

Yeah, yeah . . . I'm still on blogging break. I'll be back on the fourth.

Again, you can scroll down and start with chapter one, you can skip my blog (though this should be obvious) and you can also go the right sidebar, to labels, and then to Night Sky.

FIVE

“Jameson!”Coach Carlson waves at me as I step out of the locker room next to the pool.

“Hey.”I walk up to him and set down my bag. It feels like I’ll explode if I have tosit still. The tension from my day, from watching Sarah and Eric, Eric andSarah . . . it’s just built up high.

“You’restill up for this, right?” He holds a clipboard under his arm.

“Captain?”I’m sure this is what he’s referring to.

“It’sa lot of work,” he warns again.

I’mstill thrilled he picked me. “I know. I’m good.” I nod.

“Great.”He walks away to start practice. “Make sure you get a junior for yourco-captain, okay? I need someone to take your place next year.”

Ilaugh. “No one can take my place, coach.”

Helaughs with me over his shoulder. “You’re probably right.”

Finally,something I’m good at. I can’t wait to get in the water.

- - -

Ipull up the driveway after spending a rigorous couple of hours in the schoolpool to hear Mom and Dad arguing. The good mood from practice vanishes. Myparents aren’t perfect, and it’s not that they never argue. It’s that theydon’t argue often. I spin around at the front door, and walk through thebackyard instead. I open the slider door to my room and drop my pack on thebedroom floor.

Theirvoices die down and Dad walks out. I know its Dad who walks out because thenext thing I hear is the kitchen faucet. When Mom and Dad argue, Mom spends thenext few days scrubbing the entire house and slamming cupboard doors harderthan necessary. I’m sure her cleaning frenzy will eventually make it to my roomso I sit down and start picking up. Best to get some of it over with now.

I’min front of the TV and start putting stacks of DVDs and Blu-Ray’s back in theircases. As I sit, I can see into my bathroom. It’s a mess, too. Mom insistedthat this skinny little sink on some sort of post would make my bathroom lookbigger, but really, it just makes it so I have nowhere to put stuff.

Theproblem is that cleaning my room won’t help me stop thinking about Sarah. She’severywhere in here. Most of the movies that are out of their cases are ones wewatched together. My computer desk has two chairs, because she’s here so oftenthat there just needs to be two chairs by the computer. She helped me put mostof the posters up in my room – all that weirdomusic I listen to so much. I lean against my bed. How many hours have we sat onmy bed together to do homework? Or watch a movie? Me wishing I had the guts topress our lips together.

Well.This is it. I’m officially moping. Does that make me pathetic? I honestly don’tcare.

“Knock,knock.” Mom’s voice carries further than her soft knocks, like always.

“Comeon in.” My room looks like it hasn’t in a while. I can see the floor, the wholefloor.

“Wow.”Mom surveys the room as she steps inside. I forget how pretty my mom is becauseI see her everyday. She’ll never believe me, but my favorite way to see her isclean faced and in a ponytail.

“I…”I start to say I heard you fighting, but that suddenly doesn’t seem right.

“Iheard you drive up.” She sits on my bed. “Your dad has been really distractedlately. It feels like something’s going on and I’m not sure what.” I don’t knowthat she really means to say this to me. She’s staring out my window into thebackyard. “I’m also not sure how to ask him.”

Iopen my mouth to speak, but have no idea what to say to that.

Herbody jerks, as if suddenly aware of my presence. “Sorry, Jameson. Should weorder a pizza tonight?”

Pizzaweighs me down for like a day of swim practice, but I don’t say anything.“Sounds great, Mom.” I start to ask when Dad will be home, but I stop myself.What does that mean? That I didn’t want to ask? Is this fight different?

Shestands up and starts out of my room. “Your dad picked up an extra shift. Hewon’t be home ‘til late.”

“Okay.”I do a good job of keeping my voice smooth, but my gut feels all twisted upinside.

I’mnot sure what to do with myself so I sit in the quiet in my room until I hearMom answer the door for our pizza. So, now I just get to try to act normal, andpretend that nothing’s hanging in the air – nothing about Sarah and Eric,nothing to do with Mom and Dad. I take a deep breath and step out next to thekitchen.

“NotValentine’s Day, Mom.” I really can’thandle that movie right now.

“Isuppose you want me to watch some British gangster movie that drops the f-bombevery chance they get?” She cocks an eyebrow and hands me a plate with a sliceof Hawaiian.

“Mom,you’re too old to say f-bomb, and yeah, that’s what I’m in the mood for.” Westare at one another over the counter in the kitchen. “Valentine’s Day would be great,”I concede with a smile. I’m sure I can be a good guy and watch her girlie moviewith her.

Momlaughs. “How about we do Sherlock Holmes.It’s done by that same guy you like so much, right?”

Inod. It’s a good compromise.

We’rea third of the way into the movie, and I’ve managed to cram three pizza slicesinto my stomach. I’m slumped on the couch like the skinny teenage version ofHomer Simpson when I hear a knock at the door.

“I’llget it.” Mom stands up. “I need another slice anyway.”

Iturn back to the movie. Rachel McAdams is about to come on. She’s hot. The TVhas my full attention.

“I’mSky,” I hear behind me. “I’m here for math.”

“I’mMegan,” Mom says, “and I’m here because I live here.” She laughs. “It’s nice tomeet you.”

Likea shot I’m off the couch and my heart jumps to triple time. In two leapingsteps I can see her and Mom talking in the entry. I guess part of me figuredshe wouldn’t show. And part of me forgot, which seems insane.

“Hey,Jay. Offer still on?” She smiles this relaxed smile like her gorgeous form isalways popping in for math and Pepsi.

“Uh. . .” Snap out of it idiot. “Yeah.We’re still on.”

“Good.Matrices are kicking my butt.” She starts toward me.

Mom’seyes are wide as she stares at me. Then she mouths the word, wow.

Thatpretty much covers Sky. Right now I just want to breathe. One small step at atime, and maybe I’ll be able to act something like normal. Probably right aboutthe time she leaves.

“Oh,I love this movie.” She smiles as she steps into the living room. “I’m totallyinterrupting, aren’t I?” Her gaze slides between Mom and I.

“Nope.”Mom shoves the last few slices of pizza into the fridge. “I was just about togo sort out my closet.”

“Okay.”Sky’s lips are pressed together and her body twists slightly from side to side,as if unsure as to what she should be doing. She glances between Mom and meseveral times.

Momlets the fridge close and heads for her room.

“Everythingokay?” Sky’s voice is quieter than a whisper.

“Letme grab a couple of sodas and we can sit by the pool?” I offer in a normalvoice. Okay, I’m doing better than I thought.

“I’llskip the soda, but the pool sounds nice.” Her deep brown eyes meet mine beforeshe follows me out the back door.

Ipull out a chair for her at our table in the backyard.

“Well,aren’t you a gentleman.” She gives me a half-smile as she sits.

“I. . .” It’s just something I’ve always done.

Shesets her book down. “So, do you want to talk about it and get it out of theway? Or would you like for me to ignore it?”

“What?”What’s she going to call me on now?

“Themood in the room when I walked in.” She leans toward me. I breathe in. I can’thelp it. She smells like vanilla.

“Well,my day went about as expected.”

“Thegirl.” She gives me a brief sympathetic frowny face.

“Yeah,it’s all anyone could talk about today.” I really don’t want to re-live allthat. “And then my parents were arguing when I got home.”

“Hencethe closet cleaning.” She has dimples under her cheekbones when she smiles. Ididn’t notice them before. And even on her bronze skin, I can see lightfreckles across her nose and cheeks.

“Yep.”I breathe in again.

Sheleans back and angles her body toward me. “Okay, I’ll let you get away withone, but I’m calling you on the second.”

“Thesecond what?” My chest sinks. Pleasesay she didn’t hear me.

“Thesecond time you breathed in next to me like that. Do I smell good?” One cornerof her mouth pulls up in a smirk that wrinkles around her eyes.

Honesty,right? “Very.”

Sheglances at the table. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything like modesty orembarrassment from her. “Math?”

“Matrices.No problem.” I’m glad the topic is changing, but at the same time, I want to beclose to her and math doesn’t seem like the best way to do it. At least we’resitting next to one another at the table.

“Well,I’m glad it’s not a problem for one of us.”

Skyand I start the first problem, sorting columns and rows for matrices. It’s hardto concentrate on math and not on her. The lights come on in the backyard asthe sun goes down and the breeze carries with it a chill. She catches on fastas I walk her through problem after problem. I feel smart and useful, andhopefully she doesn’t think I’m too much of a nerd for knowing this stuff.

“You’rea good tutor.” She slides her homework into her text.

“Thanks.”I’m staring at her lips again.

“Walkme home?” She stands up.

Inearly knock my chair over trying to keep up with her.

Wemake it to the front door when I hear Mom’s voice.

“Niceto meet you, Sky. You’re welcome anytime.” Mom’s leaning out of her room at theend of the hall.

“Thanks.”Sky waves as she and I step out the door.

Iignore the wide eyes Mom gives me on our way out.

“Itwas nice seeing you today.” What a lame thing to say, but I really can’t thinkof anything else.

“Youstill are seeing me.” She bumps myleg with her hip.

Irealize, just now, how tall she is. She’s taller than Mom, taller than probablymost girls I know. “Guess I am.” I stare at the sidewalk. “You’re tall.”

“You’rejust now noticing?”

“I. . .” Once again don’t know what to say.

“Mymom is native. My dad was a tall, skinny white guy.” She chuckles. “I’ve methim, spent a little time with him, but don’t know him.”

“Andyou’re staying with his parents.” It seems bizarre. Or maybe just hard.

“I’vemet them before, but we’re still getting used to each other.” Her voice isquiet and smooth. Maybe she’s resigned, or maybe she does glide through lifethe way it appears.

“Oh.”I remember I held her hand last time we walked together. I reach for it again.

“Stillworking toward a kiss?” She doesn’t laugh, but there’s laughter on the edges ofher words.

Honesty,honesty, honesty. “Yep.”

“Good.”

Onesimple word hits me like something warm and soft, slowly spreading through me.Without much conscious thought, I squeeze her hand.

“Ifyou’re still working toward that, maybe you could take me out Friday.” Her faceis relaxed, but she isn’t looking at me.

“Takeyou out?” Crap. Why did I have to repeat that? And why am I staring?

“Yeah,Jay. Take me out.” Her voice oozes sarcasm as she glances my way. “It’s mybirthday.”

“Wow,no pressure.” I chuckle.

“I’mturning nineteen.” She bumps my arm with her shoulder. She’s warm. I’m relievedat her age, I figured her for older.

Ibump her arm back, just to feel it again. “I’ll pick you up at like, 6:00?”

“Whatshould I wear?”

Howthe hell do I answer that question?

Shelaughs. “Tell you what. I’m going to wear something comfortable on my feet,probably a skirt, and I’ll bring a hoodie since it’s still cold in theevenings. I’ve only been here since January, so I want you to show me Vegas.”

“ThatI can do.” I’m already running through my head where I want to take her. “Areyou opposed to being out all night?”

“Wow,Jay. That’s forward.”

I’msure I redden. Hopefully the darkness of my skin helps a bit. “What I meantwas, I’m up for most of the night on the weekends and things don’t really slowdown on the strip until like three or four.”

“Okay.”

We’rein her driveway now. We stop, but I don’t move away.

“Areyou still thinking you might get that kiss tonight?” She folds her arms.

“Maybe.”Definitely.

“Youneed to heal up from that girl first.” Her deep brown eyes watch minecarefully.

Ipush the air out of my lungs. It feels impossible, even though Sky’s standingin front of me, making me feel warm, and like I really, really want to kiss heragain.

“It’llhappen. You just rub really hard, right here.” She laughs and puts both herhands on my chest. She rubs them up and down in short spurts and the warmthfrom her spreads. She’s becoming addictive. Fast.

Irest my hands on hers and she stops. Her eyes have these dark ridges in themthat I stare at and take in.

Sheleans away from me, am I leaning in? “Smooth, but the answer is still no.” Shebreaks our eye contact and starts to move away.

“I’dlike a hug.” I let my head rest off to the side and I watch her reaction.

“Ahug?” She bites her bottom lip. “Actually, a hug would be nice but . . .” sheputs a finger up between us. “Don’t try anything.”

Istep into her and wrap my arms around her before I chicken out. She alreadyknows I like the way she smells, so I breathe in deeply. Her arms tightenaround me and I really have zero motivation to move.

“Howyou don’t have three girlfriends calling you at all hours is beyond me.” Shesteps away and walks to her front door. The loss of her warmth makes me break outin goose bumps.

“Howdo you know I don’t?” I tease.

“Youdon’t.”

“Night,Sky.” And I realize how cool that sounds, like the end of a poem, or maybe thebeginning. I’m a complete puff for thinking this. I know, I know, “puff,” justturn on BBC.

Skypauses in her doorway and something passes across her face. Sorrow?Thoughtfulness? Something. And it’s significant. The warmth of her spreadsthrough my chest again.

“Night,Jay.”

Chapter Four

2011-12-31T15:57:00.000-09:00

Yep. Comments are STILL off - bloggy break, remember??

If you want you can scroll down and start with Chapter one, you can skip this blog and move onto the next, or you can go to "labels" on my right sidebar and click on Night Sky to bring them all on the same page :D

FOUR

Therehave been a lot of mornings, especially Mondays, that I haven’t wanted to go toschool. They don’t compare to this Monday. Not even a little bit. I think aboutbeing sick today. Neither Mom or Dad care if I take a day once in a while. Ikeep my grades up. It’s all part of Honor Society and student government andall that. But if I don’t go today, I’ll have to go tomorrow, or the next day.One extra day won’t change anything. Which sucks.

Iput on my Green Valley High School t-shirt, Diesel jeans, and old school Asics.Normal. Something I’d wear any day. I run my hands over my head, thankful Idon’t have any hair to deal with. Sarah hasn’t called for a ride so I’massuming she’s getting one from someone else. I take a deep breath before mylungs cave in.

There’sa student government meeting this morning. I have time for a Cliff bar andnothing else. I take my first bite as I step out the front door.

“Shit,shit shit!” I hear a girl’s voice.

Istop next to my car and see Sky, a few houses down, kicking the tires on aworn, red Honda Civic. Where has she been this past week when I’ve lookedtoward her house more times than I’ll ever admit?

“Problem?”I yell.

“No!”She laughs. “Everything’s freaking perfect!”

Iclimb into my car and pull out of the driveway. I watch her face fall and thenbrighten as I stop next to her. Most people look better in the dark, their faceslit up by the street lamps, or backyard pool lights. But not Sky, her deep skinis even more incredible in the sun.

“So.This is actually your car.” Her handsgo on her hips, but all I can see from down here is legs.

“Thisis my car.” I smile at her through the window.

“It’sa Golf. An old one.”

“Aquasi - sometimes - lifeguard job at the local pool doesn’t pay for a Porsche.”I open my door and stand up, resting my hand on the doorframe.

“Guessnot.” She shifts her backpack higher on her shoulder. “So, what does?”

“Myparents work in a casino.” It’s funny that no one really questions after that.They know there’s good money to be made there if you’re in one of the rightjobs.

“Oh.”

“CanI give you a ride?”

“Don’tyou need to get to school?” Her eyes narrow. She’s pointing out my age again,I’m sure of it.

“Don’tyou?”

Hersmile widens. “Yeah. Sure you don’t mind?”

“Notat all.” A corner of my mouth pulls up. Something that seemed like animpossibility only a few moments ago.

“Thanks.”

Sky’sin tiny shorts, a hoodie, and old chucks. Her long hair flows behind her as shewalks around the front of my car.

Iclimb in at the same time she does.

“Don’tlook at me like that, Jay.” She purses her lips together, but I can see herhold in a smile.

“Likewhat.” I let myself smile back as I pull out of the driveway and head towardcampus. This is probably going to be the best part of my day.

“Likeyou’re trying to earn your real kiss.” She crosses her legs.

Iglance down.

“Eyeson the road.” She laughs and pulls her pack onto her lap. “Thanks for this. I’mnot good with math and it doesn’t help that it’s a 7:30 class.”

“Whatkind of math are you doing?” The drive to campus is short. I only have aboutthree more minutes in the car with her and I want to make the most of it.

“Justcollege algebra.” Her shoulders slump.

“Icould help you, if you want.” College algebra, I know I can help.

“Wellwouldn’t that be crazy?”

AsI study her face, I now don’t think she’s much older than me, a year, two tops.Much better. I might be a little bit closer to my league than I thought.

“Comeon over later. I’ll make sure there’s Pepsi. We’ll work on math, and if youwant, we could go for another swim.”

“Idon’t know what to make of you.” Her face looks more serious than I’ve everseen it.

Milkchocolate eyes, high cheekbones, thin lips. I want to run my finger down theline of her jaw, across her chin. I’m probably just putting whatever I felt, orfeel for Sarah onto Sky. Really not fair. But then I remember our kiss, and Ithink about how much I’d like to do it again.

“Whateveryou’re thinking, stop.” She points at me.

Iresist the temptation to kiss the tip of her finger. “Stopping.” I put my carin park for her to climb out.

“Thanksfor the ride.” She steps out.

“Seeyou later. You know, for Pepsi.” I lean over into the passenger’s seat so I cansee her face.

“Andmath.” She stops before closing the door. “If I need help.”

Thedoor closes. I sit and watch her long legs walk away. What am I doing?

- - -

Ijog into the student government meeting about 5 minutes before it’s supposed toend.

“Oh,there’s our student body VP. Nice of you to show.” Matt and I are friends, buthe gets a power trip over being student body Pres.

“Biteme, Matt.” I laugh and plant my butt on a desk and my feet in the chair infront of it.

“Wewere just talking about the next assembly.”

Alleyes are on me. I’m never late. I’m early. Always. I ignore the looks and pullout my notebook. “Safety assembly, right?”

“Uh,right.” Matt’s mouth pulls down. He’s probably annoyed I remember because Iwalked in late.

“Italked with our two speakers yesterday. They’re good.” I glance down my notes.“Mr. Forrester did a dry run with the projection screen in the gym so the slideshow that the police want to do should go off without a hitch.”

Thedoor opens again. Sarah. My mouth is dry. I’m pretty sure my tongue swells upto something that looks like a baseball and my heart threatens to break freefrom its cage inside my ribs. Even the shape of her body shows her bubblypersonality. She’s short with great curves and a big smile. This sucks.

“Whatwere you two up to?” Kaylee smirks atme as she taps my foot with hers.

Right.Kaylee’s not allowed to go to the dances. She’s probably the only one in theschool who doesn’t know our quarterback now has a girlfriend.

Andthen it happens. What I knew I’d face today. Eric appears behind her, leansdown, and gives her a kiss before stepping away. Sarah’s lips. The ones I’vestared at for . . . Okay. I gotta get a grip or I’ll never make it through theday.

Shebeams. It’s a Sarah smile. The one no one should be able to resist because it’sfull of goodness and happiness. She half leans out the door as it closes andwhen she turns to face us, the happiness is still all over her face. It dancesaround in her eyes and weaves its way through her body.

Thewhole room is now staring at her.

“Sorry.”She bites her bottom lip to hold in her goofy grin.

Itstabs and pulls at my chest, but my mouth stays closed. I make no noise and amamazed that I’m still in one piece.

“Jamesonwill catch me up later.” She sits on the desk behind me and does a quick, softscratch on my back. She always does this. Today is the first day I haven’tloved it.

“Well,we’re adjourned unless anyone has any objections.” Matt sighs as if in defeat.A whole five minutes of his meetingwas disturbed. Fortunately, I’m used to him. Matt is an odd mix of overachieverand lazy jock. It only seems like a contradiction in terms if you haven’t methim.

Istand up and Sarah throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “Thank you.You know, for everything.”

“Areyou moving or something?” I try to tease. I don’t want to let the warmth of herbody next to mine affect me, but it’s hard. She feels so good. I lean my facedown, just a little and breathe in. Then I have to keep from choking. Shedoesn’t smell like Sarah, she smells like guy, like Eric.

Idrop my arms.

“Igotta run.” She steps back, goofy grin still intact.

“Seeya.” And I stand in the room like an idiot and watch her walk away.

“Youokay?” Kaylee bumps my side with her shoulder.

“I. . . I don’t know.” The classroom is empty aside from Kaylee and Mr. Carlson,who pretty much leaves us to our meetings.

“Youlike her.” Kaylee’s voice is quiet.

“Doesn’tmatter.” I shake my head.

“Ifit makes you feel better, I was just waiting for the day when you two walked inhere holding hands. It felt inevitable.” Now she’s wearing the same sympatheticsmile Mom’s been showing.

Butall I can think is – Yeah, to two of us.

“Jameson?”Mr. Carlson asks from his desk. He’s a good teacher and a great coach.

“Yeah?”I whirl around.

“Firstofficial day of swim team practice today?”

“Youknow I’ll be there.”

“Great.”He adjusts his wire glasses once before going back to his computer.

I’llneed the distraction.

Chapter Three

2011-12-29T06:54:00.000-09:00

Comments are still off because I'm technically on bloggy break.
If you want to read the previous two chapters, you can scroll down or check my right sidebar for "labels" and then Night Sky.

Hope y'all are having a FABULOUS holiday season!!

THREE

Whywon’t anyone stop the buzzing? It’s horrible, vibrating . . .

It’smy damn phone.

Iroll over in bed and reach for the table.

SARAH.

AmI ready for this? No. Probably never will be.

“Hey,”I answer.

“Yousound terrible.” She laughs. “You know it’s like one in the afternoon, right?”I love her voice, all childish sweetness, mixed with something older,indefinable. “No.I was sleeping, Sarah.”

“Yourfamily, I swear. My dad still has his 9 AM no-matter-what rule.” I can pictureher perfectly. Her small round face is pulled into the annoyed scowl that makesme want to smooth out her forehead with my fingers. Her lower lip is probablypushed out in a bit of a pout and her freckly cheeks will still hold the hintof a smile.

“Yeah.”I’m wide-awake now and wish I wasn’t. My chest is still hollowed out today, butit’s raw, too. Talking to Sarah just scratches at the edges.

“Wow,you’re talkative this morning.”

“That’swhat happens when you wake me up.” I know she wants me to ask about her night,but I can’t do it.

“Aren’tyou gonna ask me about my night?” The edge of excitement is there. The edgethat makes me nauseous.

“Whydon’t you just tell me.” I let the words out in a sigh.

“Geez,you’re a ray of sunshine today.” Now I bet her small lips are pulling down andshe’s trying to make her eyebrows look mean, when really it just makes her evencuter.

I’mbeing a jerk. No matter what happened, I can’t stop being her friend. “Sorry,Sarah. Tell me everything.” I hope it doesn’t kill me.

“It’sofficial.” She squeals and I pull the phone from my ear. It doesn’t help. Hersqueal strikes right into the jagged wound from yesterday. “We kissed and thenwe stayed up all night talking. He drove me home and was so nice.” She breathesout this totally girly, happy sigh.

Ipress my fingers against my eyes, because, believe it or not, it actually doeshurt worse than last night.

“Well?”She’s waiting for my response.

Right.This is where I’m supposed to say something really sweet and supportive.“That’s . . . great.”

“You’resupposed to be more excited for me, Jamesy.” Her voice has a teasing edge, butit also sounds hurt. She’s called me Jamesy since I can remember. I love andhate this nickname she’s given me. Love it, because it’s so Sarah – a little juvenile and silly, andprobably now I hate it for the same reason.

“You’rehappy, I’m happy, Sarah.” Is that true? I guess parts of it are.

“Aw,don’t worry, Jamesy, we’ll still hang out.”

Shethinks I’m worried because we won’t hang out anymore.

Howmany times did I have the opportunity to tell her I liked her?

Too many to count.

Howoften was it just her and I?

All the time.

Imean, we have other friends, but we don’t spend time with them because we haveeach other.

Had.

Andnow I’m screwed because she’s with someone else and thinks I’m bummed because Imight lose my friend.

“Coursewe will.” I try to laugh, but end up coughing.

“Okay.”She giggles. “This is going nowhere. You obviously need more sleep.”

“Yeah.”That’s just what I need. More sleep. More sleep will fix everything.

Ihang up the phone and hurl it across the room. It hits the wall with asatisfying thump and falls to the floor. I lie on my back and pull my knees up,resting my feet on the bed. I suck in a breath to hold in my tears. How much ofa girl am I? I rest the backs of my hands over my eyes.

“Jameson?”Mom knocks softly on my door.

“Yeah.”But my chest is so tight I’m not sure how it comes out.

Shesits on the side of the bed and puts a hand on my knee. I don’t know if hersympathy makes it better or worse.

“Waffles?Swim?”

“They’dget soggy, Mom.”

Shelaughs.

Ilaugh a little, too. I swear when my body shakes to laugh it shakes out moretears and hits those raw edges together again.

“Deepbreath.” Mom’s voice is a whisper.

“Ican’t. Not yet.” I flatten out my hands and wipe the tears away with my palms.

“Mighttake a while.” Her hand squeezes my knee in a depressingly sympathetic gesture.

It’sactually the most comforting thing I’ve heard yet. “Swim.”

“I’llsee you in five.”

“Three.”

Momwalks out and I let the hands fall off my face. Swim. I can do this. I roll outof bed, throw on shorts, and step outside.

Whenwe moved into this house, Mom and Dad made sure that both our bedrooms openedinto the backyard. This means I have about twenty steps to our pool.

“Iwin.” I hear Mom outside.

Imake a dash for the pool, but we hit at just about the same time. I can feelthe line of water slide across my skin as I jump in. It’s been years sinceMom’s been able to keep up with me. We swim together anyway. Back and forth wego. No need to speak, no need for anything. Just the pull of my arms, the pushof my feet, and the coolness that flows over my body as I move. The hole’sstill here, digging at the insides of my chest. But the edges are gettingsmoother. The water is wearing on them, just like it does with everything. Smoothand wears.

Aftera few laps, I realize I’m alone in the water. I check the edges of the pool andsee mom’s feet below the surface. I swim straight to her and stand up.

“I’mstarving.” She smiles.

“Me,too.”

“Good.”She stands up and heads for the house.

Isit on the edge of the pool for a few more moments. My night with Sky flashesto mind. Her raw honesty. Her dark hair. And yes, her small black panties. Iwonder when I’ll see her again. My stomach rumbles and I smile. Smile. Asimpossible as that felt this morning, it feels good now. It’s not like Sarahdied.

No. Just like she’s dating someone who won’tunderstand a tenth of her worth.

But it’s what she wants.

Maybe she doesn’t know what she wants.

Andhow am I supposed to tell her?

Stop having imaginary conversations in yourhead, Jameson. Sooner or later you’ll be having them out loud.

“Breakfast!” Mom calls out the back door.

Ialmost laugh then because it’s probably somewhere between two and three in theafternoon.

- - -

SpringBreak passes like this:

Wakeup around noon or one, or two . . . swim. Lay in the sun that’s almost hotenough to really love lying in. Hang out downtown. Fend off attacks from Kim,even though they make me feel good.

VisitMike, who takes care of the dolphins at the Mirage, but only after the exhibitis closed. I like having them to myself.

Driveby and look out at Sky’s house more than I should. Miss Sarah. Want Sarah tocall. Sarah calls. Wish Sarah hadn’t called.

Myeighteenth birthday consists of the swim team coming to my house and trashingmy backyard. I’m okay with this. Sarah couldn’t come. Sky isn’t here. Justpeople who like to swim.

Iswim. And then swim more. And then swim more. It works my body and helps mybrain not wander to places I don’t want it to go – like to Sarah. I almost wonstate last year in the men’s freestyle. I have to do it this year. It gives mean excuse to spend hour after hour in the solitude of the pool.

I’mgetting sympathy stares from Mom, and Dad’s been working every shift he can gethis hands on. Maybe he wants to update his Porsche.

I’mmad at myself for not taking Sky’s number, and wish I could erase Sarah.

Chapter Two

2011-12-27T12:51:00.000-09:00

Comments are off. You don't have to read (though, I'd think that's obvious), but I'm going to put several more chapters up over the next week during my bloggy break :D Just for fun. Chapter One is below.

TWO

Ifinger the keychain as I make my way to employee parking. Owning a Porsche is abig deal, but it isn’t a big deal. First off, it’s a Boxster, which means it’sbarely a Porsche. It’s also a few years old, like eight. But Dad takesimmaculate care of it and it’s fast as hell.

Ijump behind the wheel. The chair is already as far back as it’ll go. Dad and Ishare the same 6’3” height, but he’s a lot broader than I am. It makes him goodat his job. No one ever gives him any crap.

Theengine purrs. I plug my iPod in. InfectiousGrooves this time. Two years ago for an assignment in . . . well, I don’tremember what class. That’s not important. What’s important is we had to go toour birth year and find something from that year that we truly loved. I lovedthe music. Now I have all sorts of early nineties grunge on my iPod. Sarahmakes fun of me for it, but she secretly likes it, too. Another hit in thechest. Someone should kick my bits, it’d hurt worse and take my mind off mychest.

Oh,and “bits.” If you watched as much British TV as I do, you’d call them bits,too. The car slides into reverse and I drive it slowly out of the garage. Thespeed bumps in this place are murder. Dad never lets me drive his car so I’mdetermined to be really nice to her tonight, but then I hit the strip and layout fifty feet of rubber. The opportunity is too good to pass up.

Thewind hits my head, the strip is bright with lights, music blares from randombars, and people are everywhere. I love this. Maybe life won’t suck forever.Now I just have to hope spring break feels like an eternity. Going to school onMonday, if Sarah and Eric are meeting at one another’s lockers, is gonna betorture.

Suddenlythe precious Boxster doesn’t seem so precious anymore. I hit the gas and headtoward Boulder Highway to really get some speed on. Not the smartest move on aSaturday night, but I’m feeling reckless. Primuscomes on the stereo. Love these bass lines.

Itake a left on Tropicana, and two seconds off the strip, the stars come backout and my music isn’t tainted by anything but the satisfying rumbling of Dad’scar.

Ihave to pass my neighborhood before I make it as far south as I want to go. Allthe houses here look the same. Almost everyone has the same terra cotta tileroof and some slight variation of stucco siding. I slow down through thestoplights, and there’s a girl on my side of the road walking in a scandalouslyshort jean skirt, flip-flops, 5 layers of tanks in different colors and long,black hair. Wow.

I’mstopped at the light next to her, and she’s staring at her phone, looking lost.

“Youneed a lift?” I offer. How brave am I?

“Idon’t think so.” She glances over her phone and chuckles as she shakes herhead.

“Youlook lost, and I live just around thecorner so . . .”

Herhead snaps up. All I see is huge brown eyes. She’s pretty. Like half Indian orsomething I’d guess. She has that beautiful straight nose and high cheekbonesonly girls from the reservations seem to have. The car door opens and just likethat, she gets in. She doesn’t even pull down her skirt, which is barely covering her--

Ican’t believe this girl is in my car. Well, my dad’s car. But still.

“Greenlight.” She points and her eyebrows go up.

“Right.”I hit the gas and the car jumps out from underneath me. Okay, I gotta take adeep breath so I don’t make an ass out of myself.

“Whoa,warn a girl, will ya?” She smiles. “So, I never do this. You have to promise meyou won’t cut me into tiny pieces and scatter them across the desert.”

“Done.”I smile. “And that was a rather specific request.”

Sheshrugs. “You can never be too careful.”

“Thenwhy are you riding in a car with a total stranger?”

“Goodpoint.” She’s smiling, too.

“Idon’t scatter bodies across the desert anyway, too far for me to drive.” I waitfor her reaction.

“And. . . where would you put the body?” She looks around. “Only one seat and I’msure I wouldn’t fit under the hood.”

Iglance up and down her lean frame.

“Thatwas not an invitation to check me out.” Her lips pull into a scowl, but there’stoo much tease in her eyes for me to take her seriously.

“Sorry.”Only I’m not really sorry. This is better than any distraction I could havedreamed up tonight.

“Okay,so I’m with my grandparents while I go to college. I know it’s lame, but it wasthe only way to go to school and I really wanted to.”

“Oh.”That came out of nowhere.

“Here’smy address.” She holds her phone up.

Shit.I crank the wheel to the right and we just make the turn.

“Drivemuch?” She stares as I straighten the car onto the neighborhood street.

“Sorry.You’re like, almost across from me.” Iglance at her. “Your house, I mean.”

“Really?”She looks around. “So how does a young guy like you end up in a car like thisin a nice neighborhood?” Her pause isn’t long enough for me to answer. “No,wait, don’t tell me. You’re in the mafia, right? And my body won’t get spreadacross the desert. It’ll get fed to pigs.”

“Snatch.” It just comes out.

“Yeah.”She smiles and nods. “Guy Ritchie is a freaking genius.”

“Ididn’t think girls liked that stuff.” I can’t take my eyes off her, even thoughI should probably be watching the road.

Shelaughs. “Then you’ve been hanging around the wrong girls.”

Sarah.I let out a sigh. I don’t even mean to. I’m pathetic.

“Thislook right?” I pull to a stop.

“Thisis it.” She makes no move to get out. “I was only turned around, not lost. Just so you know.” Her head spinsaround, scanning. “Where are you?”

“Thathouse, there.” I point ahead and across the street. “And to answer your earlierquestion, this is my dad’s car and my parent’s house.” Really, I don’t want toadmit this. I’d be a lot cooler if I didn’t.

“Okay.”She nods but doesn’t move.

ShouldI do something? Say something? Maybe I’m supposed to get her door. I reach forthe handle.

“Whatare you doing now? Tired? Going to crash?” She runs her hand across herforehead to catch a loose strand of dark hair.

“Probablygoing to swim.” It clears my head.

Shedoesn’t move, just stares at me. What do I do?

“Thisis where you invite the girl next to you for a swim.” She smirks.

“Um. . .” Wow. “Wanna come swim with me?”

“Iprobably shouldn’t.” She shakes her head, but still makes no move to get out.

“Youwanna just tell me what I should say next?” This whole conversation, and thisride with a girl in Dad’s Porsche is completely out of my league, but I can’tstop. It feels good. I haven’t bothered paying attention to anyone but Sarahsince at least the beginning of senior year.

“Youcould offer me a snack or a drink or something.” She leans toward me, not alot, just enough to keep me going.

“Ihave snacks. No drinks. My dad was an alcoholic and he sees enough at work. Wedon’t keep any in the house.” Will she think that’s weird?

“Well,I don’t drink, drink so a Pepsi wouldbe great.” How old is she? And is she inviting herself to my house? And why amI worried about this?

“Ihave Pepsi.”

“Thenyes, I’d love to come swimming with you.” Her eyes narrow. “What’s your name? Ican’t believe I didn’t even ask.”

“Jameson.”

Shelaughs again, showing me a big smile of white teeth. “So, like, do people callyou James for short?”

“Nope,just Jay.” I’m still in shock that I’m about to take this girl back to my housefor a swim.

“Well,Just Jay, I’m Sky.” I realize that her voice is quiet, smooth, even though it’sfilled with tease.

“Sky?”Really? But now I realize I probably sound like a prick.

“Mymom is into her native roots. So yeah, Sky.”

“Ikinda like it.” Did that save me? “Did you grow up on a reservation andeverything?”

“I’mhalf Tlingit, from Alaska. We have corporations, not reservations.”

“Oh.”I’m lost and feel like an idiot.

“ButI grew up in a small village. Does that make you feel better?” She punches mesoftly on the shoulder.

“Definitely.”I look her straight in the eye. I don’t know if it makes me feel better or not,but I also know I feel a step behind and don’t want to.

“Areyou gonna drive me to your house, offer me a Pepsi, and get me into your pool?”Again, her voice is still full of tease.

Thisis crazy, I think we’re totally flirting, and I’m keeping up. Or I will besoon.

Ilaugh in nerves and excitement and hit the gas. Maybe my night won’t be so badafter all.

- - -

Istep out of the house in my swim shorts, with a Pepsi in each hand and towelsunder my arm.

“Thanks.”And I swear she checks me out. “So.” She gestures with her hand from my head tomy feet. “You look totally comfortable in front of a stranger, almostcompletely naked.”

“I’mon the swim team.” And I’m not totally comfortable. I’m just used to beinguncomfortable.

“Atyour high school, huh?” She lets out a sigh.

“I’ma senior.” I wonder if she’ll just take off. If I’m too young.

“Hmm.”She pops her Pepsi, and takes a few drinks.

I’mnot sure what to do with myself. This whole situation feels a little unreal.The backyard is all the same. Large stone patio, scattered lawn furniture, longpool for laps . . . and then Sky.

“Well,let’s swim.” She stands up, slides her denim skirt off and two of what nowlooks like three tank tops. Her hair’s past her shoulder blades and she’sstanding in my backyard in panties and a barely-shirt. She walks in light,almost sliding steps and jumps into the water without hesitation.

Andbecause I’m a bit of a show-off, I wait until her head emerges before doing aleaping dive into the water. The warmth hits my skin and immediately dissolvessome of the surface tension.

“Nice.You put me to shame.” She laughs as I come up for air.

“Doyou have a pool?” I ask, trying not to dwell on the compliment.

Shestretches out on her back, floating, looking up.

“Funnystory, actually.” She continues to stare at the sky. “My grandparents do have a pool, but they don’t want topay for the water or to maintain it.”

“Soyou have a pool in the backyard that’s sitting empty?”

“Prettymuch.” She stands up, staying low in the water.

“Thatsucks.”

“Yousaid it.”

Andnow I want to ask her if she wants to come swimming again. But I chicken out.Honestly, I have no idea what to say, but we’re both here and floating, staringat the sky, that that feels okay, too. Well, more than okay. Awesome. When Ihear the water ripple, I stand. She’s watching me, which makes me a bitself-conscious. I mean, that’s not really fair since I’m totally trying to seeas much of her as I can.

“So,are we going to get together again?” A corner of her mouth pulls up. “Or, haveI scared you away forever?”

“Youhaven’t scared me away.” Standing in my pool, in my backyard with a girl wholooks like . . . I don’t know . . . but she’s gorgeous, she’s wearing barelyanything . . . It’s kind of erotic or something. Exciting. Different.

“Here’sall I need from you, Jay.” She steps closer.

Closerto me. In the pool. Wearing next to nothing. My heart sprints. “What’s that?”Does my voice sound normal? Because this night feels anything but normal.

“Behonest. All the time. No matter what.” There’s suddenly a softness to her thatI want to see more of.

I open my mouth to say easy, but then Ithink about how long I’ve been in love with Sarah and never said anything.

“Oh,man.” She lets out a sigh. “You can’t do it. That really sucks cause I likeyou, Jameson.” She starts to swim away.

“Ilike you, too.” It just comes out. She’s so relaxed. She’s going to tease me nomatter what. Might as well tell the truth.

“Nice.Maybe we can be friends.” She turns in the water to face me. I wish I couldread her better, because the tease is still in her eyes, but her face seemstotally relaxed.

“Friends.”It comes out flat. Did I just say that?

“What’swrong with friends?” She laughs.

“I. . .”

“Truth.”She points.

“I’vebeen in love with my best friend since tenth grade and like a moron I helped herto get the guy she wanted and . . .” but I don’t want to finish.

Herface falls. “And it worked.”

“Itworked.” And it punches into me again, just saying it out loud.

“Sucks.”

“Yep.”

Sheswims to the side of the pool and climbs out. I stand here kind of wishingshe’d left on the white tank instead of the black one. And why is it differentthat she’s in panties instead of a suit? It’s not like one covers more than theother, but it is definitely different.

“Thanksfor the swim.” She sits on a long lawn chair, but doesn’t rest onto it. She’son the edge, still in her panties, with her elbows on her knees. “It’s stillfreezing out here.” She pulls a towel over her shoulders.

It’sMarch and cold for swimming, but Mom and I use the pool year round. “You’rewelcome.” I slide easily out of the pool and sit on the chair across from her.

“So,this girl.” Her hands are on her shoulders, holding the towel tightly.

“Sarah.”Who I don’t want to talk about.

“This,Sarah. You’ve known her a while?” We’re facing one another. Our faces are alittle too close for normal conversation and people who just met. Her warmbreath hits my face. I love it.

“We’vebeen close for a few years.”

“Butnow she’s with someone else.”

“Yep.”The stupid picture of her and Eric dancing hits me again. I wince at thememory.

“Whendid that happen?”

“Whattime is it?” I ask.

“Shit.Sorry.” She leans forward in the lawn chair. Still in her panties and tiny top.And I really should stop thinking about that. “This is going to be a pity kiss,but I promise that if we kiss again, it won’t be.”

Isshe kidding? I’m not sure what to say. But turns out, I don’t have to sayanything. Her lips are soft on mine and warmer than me. She opens her mouth.She tastes like cherry Pepsi and I put my hand behind her head to keep herclose. Her kiss hits every part of my body, sending shocks waves of theunexpected through me.

“Okay.”She pulls away. “You are way too good at this to be . . . how old are you?”

“Eighteennext week.”

Shelaughs.

AmI allowed to ask her age? Probably not. But she’s older, I know this much. NowI just need to play it cool. “So, the next kiss won’t be a pity kiss?”

“Nope.”She stands up. “And it also won’t happen tonight. Turn around, I’m going to putmy dry top on.”

“You’rejust going to strip? Right here?” Okay, I cannot let that thought hit too hard.And next kiss. I really want to feelher mouth on mine again.

“Assoon as you turn around.” She twirls her finger between us to signal me tomove.

Ido as asked. I hear the slap of her wet shirt as it hits the side of the pooland it takes every ounce of my self-control not to turn around. Instead Iimagine it. I imagine her bare browned back, and small black panties.

“Okay.”

Iturn around. Her skirt is back on and her wet tanks are in her hand.

“I’mdry and still freezing.” She chuckles as she rubs her arms.

“Justa sec.” I jog into the house and grab a hoodie for each of us.

“Here.”I hand over a sweatshirt.

“Verydecent of you.” She smiles and slides it over her head. It’s huge on her, butshe looks squeezable in all the extra fabric. And there’s something about herwearing my shirt that makes me feel, warm, helpful. I don’t know what it is,but the feeling’s good.

Ishiver once with goose bumps and slide the other sweatshirt over my head.

“You’regonna walk me home, right?” How does she look fluid, even while she’s juststanding still?

Islide on my flip-flops. “Yep.”

“I’mglad I ran into you.” She walks to the gate at the side of the house in thesegliding movements that make me want to sit and watch.

“Me,too.”

“Maybeit’ll happen again.”

“It’llhappen again.” I’ll make sure it does.

“See?Look at all this honesty. It practically pours out of you.” She looks over hershoulder.

“Practically.”I reach out and take her hand. Then stare at the cement sidewalk like it’s nobig deal.

“I’monly letting you get away with this because of your friend.” But her handsqueezes mine.

“I’mokay with that.” It’s like her being so forward, makes it okay for me to be thesame way. I should be this way with Sarah, but I’m not, and I have no idea whythis is.

Skylaughs.

Maybehonesty really does work.

Westop at the end of her driveway.

“Thanks,Jay.”

“Thanks,Sky.” Do I dare? “How bout my non-pity kiss, now?”

Shelaughs. “Nice try. That one you have to earn.”

Andearn it I will.

Butas soon as she goes inside, the little bubble of happiness that surrounded herfollows, and my chest is heavy again.

Iturn for home. What will change with Sarah and I? Is she going to be datingEric come Monday after spring break? Will I seeher over spring break? Will she call me tomorrow and give me details about hernight that I don’t want? I’m not sure. I’m only sure that it sucks to be askingthese questions.

Chapter One

2011-12-24T15:50:00.000-09:00

This is Chapter One of a book called - Night Sky/Chasing Sky/My Senior Year goes something like this . . .

Yeah. I'm not very decisive. Comments are off. You don't have to read, but I'm going to put several more chapters up over the next couple of weeks during my bloggy break :D Just for fun.

ONE

I push my way through what suddenly feels likemasses of dancing couples, out the heavy doors of the school, and stop.

Now I can breathe. The air fills mylungs, but doesn’t clear my head.

Thescreeching brakes of the city bus travels across the parking lot. Crap. I sprint and grab the doors at thelast second. The bus is empty. I’m alone. Alone on the one night I wouldn’tmind distraction. I slump in the back seat, the only row with enough legroom,and pull out my iPod. I slide my ear buds in and blast Nirvana’s Nevermind as loud as I can stand it.It’s old – as old as me. But good. The long sleeves of my dress shirt aremaking me crazy so I roll them up and wish I had on jeans instead of pants.

Thething is, I knew it could happen – that Sarah could end up with another guy.But I didn’t know it would hurt this much. Somebody needs to stop making thosebullshit romantic comedy movies. They mess with my head.

Ican’t believe I just lost Sarah. Thesight of her and Eric pressed together rams into my chest again.

Shit.I don’t want to think about this anymore.

Thebus slows. I’m one street off the Las Vegas strip. It seems like a good placeto lose myself for a while. Nirvana’s still ramming into my ear drums at asatisfactory volume, and I’m not expected home for hours. Though, with it beingFriday night, nobody will miss me until either of my parents rolls out of bedat sometime around noon tomorrow.

I step off the bus and start walking.

BeforeI realize what I’m doing, I’m moving through the doors of the Paris hotel. Crapagain. As soon as Mom sees me, she’ll know. I shouldn’t have come. I have toscan for her quickly though, just in case. It seems wrong, or rude or somethingto just walk back out. There are a few rows of slot machines and felted tablesas soon as I step inside, but Mom’s usually back where the serious moneyexchanges hands.

She’sworked in casinos since I can remember. Dad, too. Mom’s a waitress, skimpyuniform and all, but she makes more money on the floor than she did back in theoffices.

Itake one more glance around and don’t see her. The feeling’s a mix of the holein my chest being dug even deeper, and relief that I won’t have to talk aboutit or see her sympathetic face. It really screws with a guy’s head when his mompities him. I jerk the buds out of my ears, and the rattle of the slot machinesdrowns out everything else. I’ll admit it’s an odd noise to gain comfort from, butwhen you grow up in casinos . . . There’s just something about the familiar.

“Jameson.”Mom walks by, and bumps me with her hip. Her smile is wide until our eyescatch.

Yep.There it is. The sympathetic smile I both love and hate right now.

“I’mjust about to take my lunch. Wanna join me?”

Inod. Only Mom would call a midnight meal, lunch.

Shepulls the security card out of her tiny pocket. “Go on back. I’ll see you in afew.” Her smile falters, and just makes me feel worse – heavier. I should havegone to see if Mike was still hanging around so I could play with the dolphinsat the Mirage.

“Thanks.”I pick up the card and head for the “employees only” door.

Iglance around for Dad. He’s a pit boss, the guy with the earpiece who stands inthe middle of a group of tables and looks important. He usually watches overthis front area because he’s good at his job, and it’s the busiest. But I don’tsee him.

Islide mom’s card through the slot, and open the employee door to the breakarea.

“Jameson!”Two of the girls Mom works with wave from across the room. They might be tenyears younger than Mom, but they don’t look any better than she does in theirlittle blue and red uniforms. The uniforms aren’t bad, especially not for Vegasstandards. They’re low in the front, and low in the back, with a tiny skirtinstead of something that looks like panties. To me they seem like theHalloween version of a flight attendant uniform.

“Youare so cute.” Kim gives me a wink. It’s actually amazing her lashes don’t keepher eye from re-opening. They’re too long to be real, and thick with mascara.“You got a kiss for me?” She stands up and puckers her lips to blow me a kiss.

“Stop,Kim. He’s underage.” Jessica runs her hand over my nearly shaved head. “Must beswim time again, huh?”

“Practicestarts next week.”

Jessicawaves as she steps around me and heads back out to the floor.

“Nojudge would doubt my being confused on your age.” Kim steps close, leans up,and kisses my cheek.

Ikiss hers back. We always flirt like this, even though she honestly makes me alittle uncomfortable. I never know what to do with my hands when she gets thisclose.

“Doyou know how many girls would kill for your skin?” She shakes her head. “Justthat perfect amount of brown to make your tan darker than anyone but theMexicans.”

“It’sbecause I’m part Mexican, Kim.” She’s still standing close, almost against me.I smile wide as a show of a confidence that I’m not feeling right now.

Sherolls her eyes, “I know who your dad is.”

Everyoneknows my dad. He’s a big guy with a warm smile. They all tease him about his“work” face because apparently the pit boss shouldn’t have the friendly face mydad likes to wear.

“Andlook at you.” She pats my chest a few times with the flat of her hand. “Broaderevery time you come in.”

Ihave no idea what to say to that. Probably I should say something aboutswimming, but Kim interrupts by smacking my ass with her hand on her way outthe door.

“Myoffer’s still open,” she sings behind her as the door closes.

Heroffer was to give me a night I’d never forget. It’s a joke, but part of methinks that if I said I wanted to, she might do it. I’m not sure how I feelabout that. Guess it should make me feel pretty good.

Momsteps through the doorway, does a quick survey of the room, and sits down witha baguette sandwich. “Share?” Her brown hair is pulled up high on her head andher eyes look huge with too much makeup. I’m used to it.

“Sure.”I sit next to her. It’s nearly one AM but I don’t feel tired. I’m from a familyof night owls.

“SurviveKim?” Mom smirks.

“Yeah.”I rub my hands down my thighs a few times, like it’ll somehow help me loosen up.

“So,the dance didn’t go well?” She doesn’t look at me, she already knows andprobably isn’t sure if I want to talk about it. I’m not sure if I want to talk about it.

“Itwent great for Sarah. She got exactly what she wanted.” I break the sandwichapart. I stare at the wilted lettuce, day-old bread, and lose my appetite.

“Justcram down a little bit. It’ll make me feel better.” Mom pushes it my way.

Irip off a small bite and stuff it in my mouth.

“I’msorry,” she says. I wonder if my brown eyes are as easy to read as hers?

“It’s. . .” okay is what I want to say,but it isn’t okay. It doesn’t feel okay. It feels like I’ve been flattened,stretched, and left in the gutter.

Sheputs her arm over my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “She doesn’t know what she’smissing.”

“Actually,she does, Mom. We’ve been friends for three years. She knows me better thananyone, and chose someone she didn’t know instead.” And just when I think it can’tget worse, it does. Because hearing it all out loud? Makes it worse.

Did she know she had a choice? I’m surethose are Mom’s next words. But she holds them in. I’m thankful. Mom knows howI feel about Sarah, how I’ve felt.She also knows I haven’t said anything. Rejection like the one I faced tonightwas bad enough. If Sarah’d had all the facts – knew I’d been in love with her,and still turned me down? It would feel worse. Well, it might feel worse. I’mnot sure right now if it’s possibleto feel more terrible.

Thepicture of Sarah in Eric’s arms hits me again and I have to take a deep breathin to keep from crying. Crying. Whatthe hell’s wrong with me? Being in love is really messing with my head.

Istand up. “I’m gonna head home.”

“Already?”Mom’s eyebrows go up.

Onlymy parents would say already at oneAM.

“Yes.Already.”

“Yourdad and I took separate cars tonight. Why don’t you take one home?” Sherummages in her bag for her keys.

“That’dactually be great.” The bus is cool, but it does shut down. And weirdos are onething. Wasted weirdos are another. Those really start to come out aftermidnight.

“Well,it’s about to get better. I drove your Dad’s Porsche.” She gives me a sly smileas she hands the keys over.

Ilaugh. That is better.

How To be a Smart Criminal

2011-12-18T13:18:00.000-09:00

I know, this doesn't really seem to fit the season.

HOWEVER.

It seemed like loads of fun, and since Mike and I were at his work party last night - we came up with some helpful tips on the way home.

My husband has worked as a prosecutor for close to seven years. This means he works with the cops, is an attorney, and goes to trial a LOT. He gets cases sometimes that just blow me away.

SO. Here's what we came up with:

1. If you have a large neck tattoo, remember that these are not super common, and that you might want to put on a scarf or something before robbing a store and letting the camera get a clear view of your neck.

2. If you have drugs in your car, and the cops ask you to search your car, you're allowed to say no UNLESS they have a search warrant. (The number of people who just agree, and then have a huge bag full of marijuana in the back cracks me up. Also, nobody will believe that the scales in your trunk next to your bag of marijuana are to help your mother with her cookies)

3. If you have a warrant out for your arrest, obey the traffic laws. (This is how Mike gets most of his people with warrants, and several serial killers have been caught this way as well)

4. If there are stolen goods in the back of your car, you might want to make sure that all your car's lights work properly.

5. The tent in the backyard might not be the best hiding place for the TV you stole from the house - especially when you walk out to the tent with the TV after a fresh snowfall. (psst... footprints)

6. When it's -25 degrees, and you're in the middle of nowhere, the woods are not a great place to hide from the cops. Eventually you'll get so cold you'll end up in the back of their car. Save everyone the headache of driving up and down the road asking if you're cold enough to turn yourself in yet. They get bored, and you might end up with a fever.

7. If you believe yourself to be the King of Kirgulon, don't try to use your made up currency to pay your restitution. It won't work.

8. If you kick a cop in the groin, they will ALL know who you are, and five years after the incident, you will still be known in the precinct as "crotch-kicker girl"

9. If you die when you have a lot of pending criminal cases, there may be a few people who won't handle your death with the appropriate amount of reverence.

10. If you happen to escape from your cell in a small-town prison, your prison room sheet isn't the best way to disguise your bright orange uniform. They'll catch you again.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!!!!

I'm on break until January 4th!! (Which is SOOOO weird) See you then :D

If you care what I've read lately, scroll down to the last post. I posted these two right on top of each other.

What I Been Reading

2011-12-18T13:15:00.000-09:00

I like knowing what everyone else is reading, so I just assume you guys care what I'm reading. And you may not. But here it is anyway:D

I got this at the used bookstore with VERY low expectations, but it was way fun and I just got the second one in the mail. HAPPY:D I don't know if it's a dystopian or a sci-fi, but, just, whatever. If you like this kind of thing, it was good. Also - loved the love story in this one, and LOVE the attitude of the MC. She wanted to not care SO badly . . .

I read this book in ONE afternoon. You know how you totally look forward to something, and you're so excited about it that you're just SURE it won't live up to the hype??

This TOTALLY lived up to the hype. I DEVOURED it, want to bathe in it, want to hug all those hot guys, and for the first time since I can REMEMBER, I was wondering if I should just read it again now because it was that good. This definitely did not follow the formula of girl meets boy, and there were some great twists from what I thought was going to happen by reading the back cover.

LOVE.

After reading a few of Dessen's books, I have NO idea why I drug my feet in being a Dessen fan. I've read Along for the Ride = loved.

The Truth About Forever = loved.

Dreamland = liked a WAY lot, though I'm SO picky about these kinds of stories, that I didn't love it as much as I could have, but would still recommend.

And this one - Lock and Key - Might be my favorite so far, but EVERYONE keeps saying that her newest is her best. I just haven't found it on ANY kind of sale yet, and I NEED the actual book, so I'm waiting . . .

Also - is this cover completely horrible to anyone else?? .

This book totally lived up to the hype.

BUT my disclaimer here is that two of my favorite movies are The Long Walk Home and Corrina, Corrina. This book found something new in that era and I loved it.

Chelsea is SUCH a fun character to read, and the author brought us into the hysterical world of historical reenactment. There were a few lots points that didn't ring true to me, but they were totally forgivable because of how much FUN the rest of it was.

Also, LOVED the love story.

I already gushed about this book on my group site, but it's one of my favorite self-pubbed books EVER. For me this one was right up there with Grounding Quinn, and I ADORE that book.

SO - what have you all been reading lately??

Anything knock your socks off??

Y'all are awesome, and keep me (mostly) sane when I feel like I might burst from impatience and/or frustration while writing.

THANK YOU!!!

So . . .

2011-12-15T18:23:00.000-09:00

On Monday I gave you my favorite little character study thing to do.
On Wednesday we traded lines, or you told me I was awesome (thank you *bows*)
Today I'm going to show you another thing that I do to help.

Photos.

I have an account on shutterstock photo, on istock photo, and now, on I heart it.
Honestly, I find better pics on I heart it than anywhere else - the problem is getting permissions . . .

BUT - these are all believed to be part of public domain, and are pictures that I've collected to go with Insight (which I've been using all week).
And yes, pictures help me SO SO SO much.
And most of you already know that I love to do mock book covers.
I'll spare you from those today - mostly because I've changed my mind a million times, and that's good because I've learned how little control we have over the covers, and having something too "set"in my mind is definitely not a good thing . . .

The woods and the ocean play a HUGE role in this book, so I definitely couldn't ignore that. Touching is a HUGE deal for her, so I liked finding pictures with hand holding. No guy has been a good enough Landon. Well . . . maybe the guy at the top . . . but you can barely SEE him there, lol.

Yeah, this one is pretty sexy, which went really well with version #1, or #4, or . . . I lost track.

I think this girl and that bright grey/blue eye is my fav.

I love the whimsy in this one.

I love the funky quality of this one. The hands, and her eye. Very cool.

Do you use photos to help you focus? Or is there something else that helps you get in the mood for writing a particular story?
(Yes, music is HUGE for me, but I've done LOADS of posts on music. It's just been a while)

Insight and Micah

2011-12-13T22:52:00.000-09:00

I haven't done a WIP Wednesday in FOREVER, but I've been editing on Insight, my VERY first YA book ever (so, it's old, and in need of serious work), and yesterday I shared five things about my MC from that book.

Today I'm sharing a few lines - cause y'all know by now that I'm a lover of the language.

If you were here on Monday - I'd LOVE a line from the character you shared your 5 or 10 things from.

This is a VERY old pitch - but just so you have an idea of the story.

Micah Johnson sees things when she touches people – everyperson, every touch. It makes high school rough and friends impossible. An accidentaltouch from a boy changes her solitary world when she sees herself through hiseyes, and feels him falling for her. When another vision shows her in tears, she’s forced to put all hertrust him, not knowing if their actions will prevent the vision or become thecause.

(only now there's more people, and more issues, and . . . well, whatever)

Aaaaand, now for my lines:

If I were her? I’d bepissed. She got picked up by one boy, possibly set up with another boy, and theguy she thought was picking her up, brought his own girl. Wait, I just thoughtof myself as Landon’s girl. Am I his girl?

They don’t fight, but they’re polar opposites, and not in the way that attract. They don’t even care enough to argue, they’re just different. I sometimes wonder how on earth they were together long enough to make me.

“Have you gone out your window?” He looks back to the hole he just crawled through.

“Uh… no. I actually have this preference for doors. They work pretty awesome. They have handles. You can stand upright while you walk through…” I fold my arms in front of me, realizing how exposed I am. In so many ways. What are we? Anything? Something? Nothing?

I walk slowly. One step. Another step. Now I get why the girl in the horror movie goes up the stairs. She can’t help it. She’s practically pulled there by a combination of stupidity and curiosity.

No one knows I might have been able to save her. No one knows. It just feels like it’s something that’s stamped across my forehead.

Everythingswims. My body, my tears… the pain is like nothing I’ve ever felt. It wraps itsbarbed claws around me until I’m sobbing on the floor.

“It’s not goodto keep things inside, Micah. It’ll mess with your head.” She chuckles likeshe’s teasing. But I already know how keeping things inside will mess with yourhead. You’ll get in fights you don’t want to have, feel anxious around thepeople you love most, and see things in the woods that may or may not be there.It’s awesome.

YOUR turn - but I'll TOTALLY give you choices:

Share a line.

Or just tell me something you LOVE about your current WIP.

Playing a Happy Little Writing Game

2011-12-11T21:26:00.001-09:00

Not one of those stupid, annoying, games people make you play at wedding showers, or baby showers . . .

No offense to people who love those games, but I'd rather clean my garage. And if you could SEE my garage, you would know what a drastic statement this is.

SO -

This is something I do with each of my books, and each of my main characters.

Ready?
We're going to half what I normally do. I normally do 10.

1. She hates feeling like goldilocks 17 year old counterpart.
2. She will do just about anything but behave like a psychopath to not be touched,
3. She's an expert at blending.
4. She loves juicy fruit gum, bananas, cereal, and would live on the ocean for her whole life if she could.
5. She's desperately afraid to try to change anything, because hope is a scary thing, and she's sure she won't be able to help. She can't imagine a bigger failure than that.

List 5 things about your MC right NOW!
Don't think.
Just do it.
In the comments.
GO!

AWESOME giveaway at my group site!!

Sucked into the Big Huge Vortex . . .

2011-12-08T16:23:00.000-09:00

OF EDITING!!

So, there's all these blogs out here talking about editing this month because it's the month after nano, and everyone wants to shine up their manuscripts and all that.

Also, I've done just a TON of crits lately (thank you for trusting me with your babies - I've read some FAB manuscripts).
It made me realize that I really do have a system of self-editing before I send my MS to anyone. (Aside from small excerpts to friends)

I'm going to give you a list of questions I use to tighten my manuscripts. I do this list of questions at the beginning of EACH and EVERY scene.

Here it is:

1. What does my MC want?

2. What stops them from getting it?

3. How does this relate to the rest of the story? (before and/or after this point in time)

4. What do I learn here that I NEED to know later on?

5. Do I experience each moment with them? Am I emotionally connected to my character?

(without going crazy overboard here)

And last.

6. What would happen to the rest of the story if this scene weren't here?

In my first few round of edits, number six is way useful. Later on, hopefully you'll be past that part.

The last two things I do? The final buffing?

1. (and this is new) I read it on my kindle while keeping my laptop nearby. You can also print it out, but my way saves money and trees.

2. Read each scene as if it must be your blog post the next day and your dream agent will only see that ONE scene from your whole book.

I think I've shared these before, but maybe not all in one post.

And that's how Jolene self-edits.

And people, self-editing is CRUCIALLY important. Do not use your readers until you're in need and can no longer see your own MS. BUT - that might be just me.

Disclaimer: This post has NOTHING to do with the quality of the manuscripts I've gotten, lol. But I'm in the process of getting a few books ready to send out - THAT'S more where this came from.

Any tips you wanna add??

On a side note, a few INCREDIBLY awesome people have put together a catalog of books, and included mine :D
Check em' out here - Eclectic Books

Embarrassing Moments (A blogfest started by the great Cassie Mae)

2011-12-06T10:49:00.001-09:00

Brought to you by

Jolene

Heather

(My editor who works for shoes, whose stories are way better than mine, lol)

Jolene

Every time we go to my son’s doctor, my (barely) five-year old sonJack accuses her of being a boy because she has a low voice.

Every time we go to my hairdresser he accuses my hairdresser ofbeing a boy, because she has a low-ish voice and short hair.

She’s starting to get offended . . .

Heather

I had the amazing opportunity to wander through the mall with onlytwo kids. Yes, that is amazing. My son was five. My youngest daughter wasbarely even one. I was pushing her in a stroller and my son dawdled happilybeside me. Into old navy… out. Into gap… out. Into gap body, out… Where’s myson? When I turn around, he is standing on the mannequin platform, pulling outthe mannequin’s panties and looking inside.

His father was proud with thereport.

Jolene

You know all those really bizarre questions that kids ask?

Like:

Mom? Why do you and Dad share a bed?

Why do some people have huge baby tummies, but they don’t havebabies in them?

If Jesus and Harry Potter got in a fight, who do you think wouldwin?

My son asks them in the grocery check-out line.

Not in the 20 minutes it takes us to get to town.

Or the 20 minutes it takes us to get back home.

Or while we’re wandering the store nearly alone.

In the checkout line.

Heather

Now in any religion there are people that do anything to theextreme. ANYTHING! A couple ofyears ago I bought my middle daughter a wedding Barbie and ken. She was veryinto the whole marriage thing. I happened to be over at Jolene’s house and shehad another friend over. Of course Barbies came up. This friend began to rantabout how Barbies were not allowed in her house unless they had the painted onswimsuit. Jolene and I rolled oureyes and continued on about our day, but this small fact stuck in my head. Whatkind of mom am I that I allowed my daughter to play with naked dolls in the tub!And now there was a naked man doll in the tub . . .! I’m a failure. This plaguedme all week long. So one day my daughter is taking a bath and I couldn’t handlethe nakedness anymore. I had the brilliant idea that I was going to grab mycollection of sharpies and give the Barbies swimsuits. My daughter was into it.We colored and drew, polka dots and stripes. Even Ken got a speedo. A very sadweek later, the swimsuits were faded and looked like lingerie. The moral . . . sharpies don’t work on plastic inthe tub.

Jolene

There was this girl that had a crush on my husband that he workedwith in the military. They had a four person PT scheduled for the swimmingpool, and he asked if I’d join them, because he thought it might be weird to bethere with her.

You know how your mascara runs when you don’t wash your face offwell enough? Or how you sometimes get a stray booger when water goes up yournose?

Wanna guess what I looked like when I met her?

This is all part of Cassie’s blogfest – for the otherentries – go HERE.

Wanna share a proud moment of your own??

Things that Take Me There

2011-12-02T00:07:00.000-09:00

Mostly this is a post chalked full of quotes =^D

When I read, I want to be the main character. I want to feel each moment with them. I want to live each moment with them.
I've read plenty of good books where this didn't completely happen, but I still enjoyed.
The books I've loved? Take me through each and every moment.

You can look at my left sidebar and see the books I've loved.

I've learned SO much about feeling every feeling as I write. I'm a work in progress like every writer should be, but I'm learning.

Here's a few quotes, from a few books, that I just LOVE:

“Weeping is not the same thing as crying, It takes your whole body to weep, and when it`s over, you feel like you don`t have any bones left to hold you up.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“Every morning, I wake up and forget just for a second that it happened. But once my eyes open, it buries me like a landslide of sharp, sad rocks. Once my eyes open, I'm heavy, like there's to much gravity on my heart.”
― Sarah Ockler, Twenty Boy Summer

“Don't you ever see the bright side of things?" Patrick asks as I mope against the bottom of the ladder.
"Easy to see the bright side when you're getting paid by the hour."
"Delilah, I will gladly give you my fill wage plus a month's supply of your iced choco-nut whatever lattes if you trade places and clothes with my right now."
"You're not wearing a shirt."
"That's the deal, Hannaford," he says.”
― Sarah Ockler, Fixing Delilah

“I was attempting to write the story of my life. It wasn't so much about plot. It was much more about character.”
― David Levithan, Dash & Lily's Book of Dares

“I mean, what if love isn't a yes-or-no question? It's not either you're in love or you're not. I mean, aren't there different levels? And maybe these things, like words and expectations and whatever, don't go on top of the love. Maybe it's like a map, and they all have their own place, and then when you see it from the sky - whoa.”
― David Levithan, Dash & Lily's Book of Dares

“I'VE LEARNED THAT YOU CAN'T CONTROL WHAT OTHER PEOPLE ARE GOING TO THINK ABOUT YOU.
THE BEST YOU CAN DO IN LIFE IS NOT PISS YOURSELF
OFF.

-Marcus Flutie”
― Megan McCafferty, Second Helpings

“It's a lot easier to be lost than found. It's the reason we're always searching and rarely discovered--so many locks not enough keys.”
― Sarah Dessen, Lock and Key

“We are the ones who take this thing called music and line it up with this thing called time. We are the ticking, we are the pulsing, we are underneath every part of this moment. And by making the moment our own, we are rendering it timeless. There is no audience. There are no instruments. There are only bodies and thoughts and murmurs and looks. It's the concert rush to end all concert rushes, because this is what matters. When the heart races, this is what it's racing towards.”
― Rachel Cohn, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist

AND - I just snuck a few of mine in for fun :D
Because aside from the frantic clacking that gets the initial story down, this is my favorite part.

"I hate nevermind. It’s like – oh yeah, that thing I wanted to say? You’re just notimportant enough for me to actually say it.

― Jolene Perry, Knee Deep

I lean toward her again and breathe in, which is areally stupid thing to do when you like a girl more than she likes you.
― Jolene Perry, Displacement

“Daisy and I arenothing. I mean, she’s a cool girl, I’ve known her forever, but she has theattention span of a hamster.”

― Jolene Perry, The Happiness of Joy

"As much as I should keep my heart in my chest, part of it runsaway with him. And maybe that means part of his might be here with me."
― Jolene Perry, Dizzy

“There have been a million tinymoments I’ve let slip through my fingers. A million little bits of perfectionthat I could have simply sat in and soaked up and enjoyed. I never want to missout on something because I’m looking forward to something else. I feel like Ihave a hold on things again. I love right now. I want to keep loving rightnow.”
― Jolene Perry, Left to Love
Who is an author whose LANGUAGE you just want to bathe in?
Use osmosis and make yourself brilliant?
Share a quote from your writing?
From a book you're reading?
From a book you LOVE?

My First Foray into Net Galley - New Girl by Paige Harbison

2011-12-01T19:58:00.001-09:00

They call me 'New Girl'...
Ever since I arrived at exclusive, prestigious Manderly Academy, that’s who I am. New girl. Unknown. But not unnoticed—because of her.
Becca Normandy—that’s the name on everyone’s lips. The girl whose picture I see everywhere. The girl
I can’t compare to. I mean, her going missing is the only reason a spot opened up for me at the academy.
And everyone stares at me like it’s my fault.
Except for Max Holloway—the boy whose name shouldn’t be spoken. At least, not by me. Everyone thinks of him as Becca’s boyfriend…but she’s gone, and here I am, replacing her. I wish it were that easy. Sometimes, when I think of Max, I can imagine how Becca’s life was so much better than mine could ever be.
And maybe she’s still out there, waiting to take it back

NO. I'm not turning this into a book review blog, but it seems sort of crazy not to use my mighty blogging power to get free books once in a while, right? Especially since I blog about what I read anyway!
(someone at NetGalley just blacklisted me)

HERE WE GO:

What I liked:
Loved the alternating POV's and how one (the "new girl" in the present) was in first person, and the other (the "missing girl") was written in 3rd. This is a case where it works PERFECTLY.
It's a mystery, that didn't feel like a mystery until like 30 some-ish percent in, and then I. HAD. TO. KNOW. WHAT. HAPPENED.
And I was really led down a few very plausible ideas . . .
Also, I really needed more of that Max.
Swoon.

What I didn't like:
The language was simply to tell the story, and we ALL know I'm a lover of the language. There was nothing special about the way she put words together, but this is sort of a lame dislike, because the tension was great, and I really wanted to keep reading.

Who I'd recommend it to?
It's a cool YA that combines some great sexy scenes (steamy) with some fun scenes, some great VERY tense scenes, and a few that leave you going what the . . .?
So, I recommend this for people who want a great love story, mixed with a little mystery, and a fab old boarding school.

A favorite line:
"I went back into my room. I wished I could run farther. It seemed suddenly to be a horrible idea, sleeping in the school you go to. Everyone was everywhere, every second of every day. And in high school, that's pretty much the fastest way to lose your sanity."

Boys Notice Girls, Notice Boys, Noticing Girls . . .

2011-11-30T00:42:00.000-09:00

Again today - Vitollo's post should be something similar-ish to mine.

The thing that strikes me between authors I like and authorsI love, is their willingness to take their time with the simplest things, anddoing it in a cool and interesting way.

John Green wrote one of my favorite “noticing” scenes ever in Looking for Alaska.

“It was right then, between when Iasked about the labyrinth and when she answered me, that I realized the importanceof curves, of the thousand places where girls' bodies ease from one place toanother, from arc to the foot to ankle to calf, from calf to hip to wait tobreast to neck to ski-slope nose to forehead to shoulder to the concave arch ofthe back to the butt to the etc. I'd noticed curves before, of course, but Ihad never quite apprehended their significance.”

I’ve tried a million times and a million different ways tosort of “mimic” this, but in a Jolene way.

And then I read THIS (I'll tell you where it's from at the end) and knew that I just need to keep writing like Jolene writes.

Kira is always gorgeous. Tonight, I realize she’s the most beautiful girl in the world.

Her hair is straight, but tied up in some kind of ball. Little wipsy multi-color ribbons blend in, hanging down. I love her hair down, but up like this, it shows me her neck. Her very nice neck. I like necks.

Her dress reaches right above her knees, showing me her legs. I like legs.

The straps are thin, I don’t know what they’re called, but they show me her collarbone, shoulders. Lots of creamy brown skin. I like skin.

Even though the bottom of her dress flares out, the top is tight. Not too tight, but hugging her curves, her breasts. I like curves and breasts.

Her dress is kind of silky, and colorful, just like her. All the bright colors from her ribbons are in the dress too. I like it. I like her.

So, wanna take a guess who wrote this last excerpt??

I'll give you a hint.

First off, it's totally not me, which is really upsetting, lol. I read this and was like - AHH - how have i never thought of this! Brilliant!

I get to BETA READ for this person.

I co-wrote something with this person.

Yeah.

I know I'm lucky.

This is a small section of a book by Kelley Vitollo.

I THINK it might be my favorite of hers. Actually, I'm sure that it is. It was one of those that sucked me in the OPENING scene and never let me go.

It was HARD to read it slow enough to make comments.

So, yeah. Read and learn :D

What's an author you've read lately who made you really look at the way you put words together?
Or an author who did that play between characters so expertly well?

We can ALL learn from this.

Are you lucky enough to have beta readers who teach you something about writing when you read for them?

IN the Moment

2011-11-27T20:55:00.000-09:00

I'm going to spend this week talking about books and writers that have made me a better writer. I have learned SO much from my crit partners, and from reading, that I thought this week, we could share some of those and learn a little something.

Also - Kelley's doing the same thing this week, so I can't wait to see how similar/different our posts are!

The more I read and write the more I realize how much more anovel is than telling a story. A lot of people have the imagination to tell astory. To think of something interesting and complicated, with themes, and agreat ending that’s true to the people, and true to the events told.

But what makes a novel great (to me) is being placed in themoment. Of feeling and experiencing with the MC. Bring me into their world. Theirpoint of view. Their emotions. I read and write to escape mine for a while.

I think one of the books I read this past year that was an incredible example of this is Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson. It’s a perfect example ofsomeone who writes the feel of each and every moment. She never seems in a hurryto get to the next scene – because right NOW is what’s important. I am THERE.With the MC. Each step of the way. And at the same time, I’m reading as fast asI can and frantically turning pages because I CARE. I FEEL it.

Here's a bit from the beginning ofWintergirls.

So she tells me,the words dribbling out with the cranberry muffin crumbs, commas dunked in hercoffee.

She tells me infour sentences. No, five.

I can’t let mehear this, but it’s too late. The facts sneak in and stab me. When she gets tothe worst part

… body found in a motel room, alone . . .

. . . my walls go up and my doors lock.I nod like I’m listening, like we’re communicating, and she never knows thedifference.

It’s not nice whengirls die.

(And a few pages later)

I reach for thesteak knife hiding in the nest of spoons. The black handle is warm. As I pullit free, the blade slices the air, dicing the kitchen into slivers. There isJennifer, packing store-bought cookies in a plastic tub for her daughter’sclass. There is Dad’s empty chair, pretending he has no choice about theseearly meetings. There is the shadow of my mother, who prefers the phone becauseface-to-face takes too much time and usually ends in screaming.

Here stands agirl clutching a knife. There is grease on the stove, blood in the air, andangry words piled in the corners. We are trained not to see it, not to see anyof it.

. . . body found in a motel room, alone . . .

Someone justripped off my eyelids.

These two excerpts are three pages apart, but happen withinabout three minutes. Maybe only two. Are our moments in our books importantenough for us to take our time and soak up each thought? Every feeling? If not,let’s look at them again. Make sure they serve a purpose. Make sure that every,single, thing we do and say in our book is important to what happens later.

And ONE more:

“Lia?”

Go away. Lia needs to sleep for one hundred years in a locked glassbox. The people who know where the key is hidden will die and she’ll finallyget some rest . . .

(severalparagraphs later – because sometimes it takes pages to get through a fewminutes.)

“Lia? I knowyou’re awake. We need to talk.”

I stop breathing.

“I’m sorry aboutCassie, honey.”

The glass aroundme crackles. Cassie called me before she died. She called and called and calledand waited for me to pick up.

1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11.12.13.14.15.16.17.18.19.20.21.22.23.24.25.26.27.28.29.

30.32.33.

My fathersmoothes my hair again. “Thank God you’re safe.”

Fracture linesetch the surface of the glass box as if a body fell from the sky and landed onit. He doesn’t hear the impact, can’t smell the blood.

I’ve been editing for myself, and editing for other people,and I’m realizing that very often THIS is the last step. This bringing each andevery moment to life. It definitely is for me.

Who is an author, orwhat book have you read lately that’s really done this for you? Pulled you intothe story this way?

How do you slow downto capture each of these tiny moments?

What do we, aswriters, learn by reading?

(it’s a mixed bag ofquestions today people, take your pick :D)

I Know What the Theme for This Week Will Be

2011-11-22T08:26:00.001-09:00

Well, at least for us Americans.

BUT - since I'm not always apt to play by the rules, if there are any rules . . .

I wanted to say why I'm thankful for books.

I'm thankful for books because my daughter has a large Gryffindor sign on her door.

I'm thankful for books because my son has a large Slytherin sign on his door.

I'm even thankful for the HIL-arious arguments they have about the other child making up a new spell that they don't know the counter-spell for.

My son actually came to the dinner table in tears because Emma turned him into a toad, and wouldn't tell him how to turn back.

I'm grateful that books tell me a story while allowing me my IMAGINATION!

My five year old son tells me stories.

My eight year old daughter is writing chapter books.

(She might have gotten SOMETHING from me instead of my husband ;)

Emma started reading the Odyssey last night because she had to know the history behind the characters in ORiordan's Percy Jackson books that she's been reading to my husband.

She got two chapters into it LAST NIGHT.

I'm grateful for all the nights lying in bed with my husband, or in front of the fire when we both had a book in our hand, or when one is reading to the other.

Everyone should want my husband to read to them - he has an awesome voice.

I love that by telling stories, I always have something to do in the car. I can daydream about the stories I'm telling, want to tell, have told, and have read.

Instead of watching someone else experience something on a screen, I get to be in the action.

I'm grateful for people who love books, because they're an awesome group.

Last of all, I'm glad I live in a place where I have the luxury of my laptop and the ability to write with my time.

When I think of the massive population of our planet, I'm definitely grateful to be one of those living when and where I am.

And FINALLY. I will not be blogging AT ALL until Monday after Thanksgiving.

This is the FIRST time I've actually taken any kind of a "break" and it's only a week.

I'm honestly a bit anxious over it.

Which means I need the break.

Hope all my American friends have a nice holiday.

Hope my people across the rest of the world enjoy their week.

I'll catch ya Monday!!

Why are you grateful for books?

Ali Cross

2011-11-20T17:48:00.000-09:00

I've been dying to read a book from the awesomeness that is Ali Cross for a looong time. So, I was THRILLED when she asked if I'd read her book for her blog tour :D

And then, when I got the book, I started to panic.

What if I don't like it?

Fantasy really isn't my thing - even if it's urban . . .

ACK!

I really should NOT have worried.

It was awesome.

The girl writes romance as well as she writes action, and she's definitely created something unique.

Sixteen-year old Desolation Black wants nothing more than to stay in Hell where it’s cold and lonely and totally predictable. Instead, she’s sent back to Earth where she must face the evil she despises and the good she always feared.

When Desi is forced to embrace her inner demon, she assumes her choice has been made—that she has no hope of being anything other than what her father, Lucifer, has created her to be. What she doesn’t count on, is finding a reason to change—something she’s never had before—a friend

As you all know, I don't always likey doing the whole "book review" thing.

Instead, I'm all about the language :D

Here are Ali's picks (because I made her, lol). What I think is cool is that she gave me quotes that were from her MC, and really showed her frame of mind. Mine are way different. I LOVE doing this :D

"Now I pulled it off its hanger and swung it around and on, finding that the feeling of death wasn't so bad after all."

"Just my few things, and a few memories--adornment enough."

"The one need the selfish never knew was the one you couldn't take but could only give. Love."

"I might not have Lucy anymore, but I had Miri. And she had me."

"I could be the same as I ever was, or I could be something more."

"The rain flicked from the staff as I swung, creating arcs of water in the air that sketched the angles of my attack, drawing the outline of Akaros' destruction."

"So I spoke the one word that was both my doom and my redemption."

And MINE . . .

"the dead were always surprised to discover the fires of Hell burned ice cold. And it didn't seem to matter how many tapestries and rugs I surrounded myself with, the chill of Hell seeped into my bones, a constant whisper of freezing pain."

"There were endless ways to torture the damned - Dante didn't know the half of it."

"The rich kids hung out there, smoking their allowances and pretending they owned the mountain - and in a very real way they did."

"Because then we pulled up to the estate and I keyed in the code (666, so predictible), and the sentence in my very own hell began."

"--this was Miri, talking from her heart, and her heart was so full of sorrow I could feel it dropping from her like rain."

And if you don't know who is Ali is, maybe THIS will clue you in . . .

Amazon, paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Become-novel-Desolation-ali-cross/dp/1466384964/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1320965328&sr=8-1

Amazon, kindle: http://www.amazon.com/BECOME-Desolation-ebook/dp/B0064NRHMG/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1320965328&sr=8-2

Barnes and Noble, nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/become-ali-cross/1107091225

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/96777

So, what was the last book you read that was fun, or unexpected, or knocked your socks off??

(And if you want to give a good friend of mine some love, scroll down and yell something like - way to kick ass! Or you rock! Or . . . well, you get the idea)

For A Friend

2011-11-19T14:06:00.000-09:00

I wrote this for a friend a while ago, and then said it would never see the light of day. And here it is anyway. You know who you are . . .

So, there once was this girl.

And this boy.

Bean burritos, hold the onions, add extra cheese.

It was love.

Thirteen years ago it was enough love for them to get married.

His job took him away, but she loved. And he loved.

Soon they were together again.

Then he broke her heart.

Not bad.

Just a small crack.

Nothing that wouldn't heal in time.

He worked.

They loved.

She healed.

They had children.

One boy.

One girl.

He had to leave.

Not his fault.

The job.

The war.

He broke her heart again.

Maybe the first crack hadn't healed up the way they thought.

Maybe he still wondered.

This time it cracked so much it almost pulled them apart.

Almost.

But he still loved.

And she still loved.

And they knew if they could survive that, they could survive anything.

No one would ever take the other for granted again.

He had to leave.

Gone again to war.

They spoke.

They wrote.

He returned.

Thankful to be alive.

She's thankful he's home.

He finally sees their baby who's turned into a little girl.

He wants.

She gives.

Boxing, fish, pizza, dredges, snow.

Becomes a blizzard.

Grass is greener.

He wants something else.

She supports.

No warning.

No drizzle before the downpour.

No clouding before the storm.

He broke her heart again.

No way to push them together.

Not now.

Not anymore.

Too late.

He's broken it beyond repair.

Time.

Everyone hates time when that's what you need to heal.

But.

She lives.

Her house is peaceful in the excitement of something new.

Her son thrives under the responsibility.

The lack of stress on her daughter helps her focus. Learn.

Her youngest is still an energetic bundle of joy to be held back by nothing and no one.

They are a family.

They are good.

They still have forever.

She loves.

She lives.

She wins.

;-D

I love you like a sister.

I'll write the next one soon.

It will involve someone with Hugh Jackman's body, and Ghandi's humility.

Or maybe just that always yummy, guitar-toting, Jack.
New York.
Grapes.
Tweet :D

Great is the worth of souls in the sight of God.
Men are that they might have joy.
If there is anything lovely or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.

Take a moment and think about the last time something touched you deeply. Profoundly.

Share it. Keep it. Up to you.

But please remember it, enjoy it, learn from it.
And that's all I have to say about that.