Where did he go?

A friend of mine from high school and college told me we lost a high school friend. I wanted to ask, "Where did he go?" Because at our age, we're too young to be losing people. It's not time for our schoolmates to start dying on us.

Yet, it's happened. This isn't the first school mate that has passed, but he's still one of the first and someone I spent a lot of time with in high school. So this one hits very close to home.

We're not young anymore. And this is the age that we start losing people. This is when people start having heart problems and contracting cancer. One out of 3 women contract cancer. 1 in 5 die from it. Think about your closest friends. Which one of them will it be? Men's outlook is even more dire. 1 out of 2 contract. 1 out of 4 die.

My mantra about life being short is sad but true. This is why I live big. I admit to
having used questionable judgment at times, but I learn from my mistakes and have few regrets. If I make it to old age, I don't want to be sitting around with my 50 cats saying to myself, "if only I'd done_____" or "I wish I would have tried_____" I want to have done all the things.

I also want to make an impact on the people around me. I want help, nurture, and support my family and friends. And if I've had a falling out, I want to be content with the lengths I have gone to to make amends.

When it's all over, I hope to look back at my life and not lament the things I never did. I want to go out satisfied that I'd lived life fully, leaving as few failures as possible in my wake.

Contests, Vlogs and Karma

Amazon is once again holding their Breakthrough Novel Award Contest (ABNA) and Girl in Motion (once An Unbalanced Line, once Cheesy) made it through the first round. I've not paid much attention on purpose. The first two years I did and it drove me nuts. I'll be getting a couple reviews from Amazon Vine reviewers, I think that determines the next round, and we'll go from there. I've not made it past this round since the first year I entered when my superhero novel made it to the top 100 (I believe that was the quarterfinal round).
apparently my novel,

I've decided to start another Vlog series. I know, I'm crazy, but it's time. I always enjoyed doing it and I had people that liked it, you know...fans. I hope to have my first video up later today, so stay tuned to my Youtube chanel. I'll update that link once I get it up.

And I wanted to mention my friend Gae Polisner. Her novel, The Summer of Letting Go is hitting stores all over the country this week (of course Amazon can't seem to get mine here until after the 21st >:( ) But she's been posting guest blogs about karma and coincidence on her website all month. I didn't have time to get one to her, and mine would have been boring in comparison to others. You should read them. Pretty interesting stuff. Here's today post.

I was going to tell Gae how both times I was pregnant, each of my paternal grandparents died. I often wondered if one soul had to depart to make way for  another soul to be born. Maybe my grandparents volunteered out of love for their great grandchildren.

Did you enter the ABNA contest?

Do you have any Karma or coincidence stories you'd like to share?

In Sickness and in Health

O.M.G. I'm actually going to discuss writing and books on my blog today. I don't think I've done that in awhile because my life has been in such chaos lately, but yes, here I go.

Tonight I head up to the Association of Writers and Writing Programs Conference (AWP), which happens to be in Seattle this year, as tomorrow I will be on a panel titled, In Sickness and in Health: Writing about Illness and Loss for Young Adults.

"Sick - lit" as it's been so charmingly nicknamed has been quite a hot topic in the last year and the subject of controversy. Some people think we as writers have a cavalier attitude toward the dark subjects such as death, suicide and self-harm, and we are doing teens a disservice by writing about these subjects during a time when they are more apt to go through them.

Yet others believe that teen should be reading about the issues that they are sure to relate to at their age, that reading isn't purely about escapism, it's also about thinking and feeling and having characters you can relate to.

What is your opinion on the subject?

I think you know where I stand as someone who has written about death and
self-harm. I also have an unpublished book about a school shooting. Life isn't always pretty and it doesn't always have a happy ending. Are we doing our teenagers a favor by shielding them from the hard things in life? Things they will have to face, whether it's them, one of their friends or family members.

Shit happens. You can't hide from it, so why not face it head on.

If you're attending AWP, my panel is from 1:30-2:45 at the Washington State Convention Center, Room LL5, Western New England MFA Annex, Lower Level.

Other panel members are Roberta Borger. She is the one who assembled the panel. She is pursuing my MFA in Creative Writing at Chatham University. Selene Castrovilla, Jolene Perry, and Katherine Ayres.

I am but a speck...

This morning I went to the funeral of one of my best friend's fathers. I remember him back when we were in high school and college as a commanding presence.  Boisterous, he would fill up a room when he walked in. I knew he was a Teamster.but other then that, I didn't know him at all.

As I listened to people talk about him, I learned more about the man behind the dad I met a few times. The boss that fought for employee rights, benefits and pay as a member, as secretary/treasurer, as vice president and president of a variety of Teamster committees, organizations, unions.

I learned about the philanthropist who donated his time as a board member of the Boys and Girls Club and the United Way.

I learned about the uncle, friend, father and brother who played football and baseball liked to fish and shoot guns by listening to stores, looking at pictures and seeing how many people were there to honor his life in the church this morning.

On my way home I received a text informing me that my father had been in a car accident and was at Tacoma General Hospital. Someone had ran a stop sign and plowed into the driver's side of his car at 40 miles per hour.

When I arrived at the hospital, my family was awaiting the CT scan results. My dad was in pain, he wore a neck brace and had a hematoma on his arm, but things could have been so much worse.

If things had been different, I don't think my dad would regret leaving this place as is, much like my friend's father. He has, in many ways, built a dynasty. His law practice has been up and running for over 25 years and he is one of the most respected attorneys in Washington State.

He went into this kind of law to defend the defenseless. His clients mean something to him. Many of his cases have helped make roads safer, the government more accountable, and helped numerous families put their lives back together after serious accidents.

He is the most generous man I know, willing to give to others, even to his own detriment, even if it means in the long run, he will receive less. He not only gives his money to numerous charities, but has helped many kids go to college, and has donated his time and energy to charities and organizations, politics and justice.

He worked numerous jobs to be able to get through college and law school, he was in the seminary, has traveled every state in America and all over the world, and wrote a novel. He is a lover of football and baseball, has supported just about every local sports team at one time or another including the Mariners, Seahawks, Rockets, Sabercats, Rainiers, and more.

He worked hard but still made us breakfast in the morning and didn't miss our soccer games, baseball games, and school concerts. He's been to his grandchildren's soccer games, football games, choir concerts, school auctions, band gigs, and plays.

He is kind and funny and intelligent and you don't have to take my word for it. Anyone who knows him will tell you in the legal world, his family, the community and his friends. He has kept the same group of friends since he was a child and made many more along the way.

These kinds of events, funerals, close calls, they make you think about life, mortality, your place in the universe...

Compared to these two men, I am but a speck. I look at their lives and I say to What have I done? In comparison, not much. I complain because I don't have time. Maybe time is subjective. Maybe I don't have time because I'm spending it unwisely. Because what I've thought is important, is in a word, not. I've  thought about doing some of the things these great men have done, but I've never actually done them.
myself:

I don't want to be a speck. I want to make a mark.

Less think, more do.

Reasons I write what I do

People sometimes ask me why I write the stories I write. You know, the young adult stories about death, mental illness, violence, depression...other than just saying, the stories intrigue me, I've been trying to dig deep and come up with a  more, um, valid reason. Maybe valid isn't the right word.

Intrinsic?

Here are some things I've come up with.

• I'm drawn to sad songs.
• I like to write characters with flaws.
• I'm around teenagers all the time.
• At one time or another I've known most the people in my stories.
• At one time or another I have been certain characters in my stories.
• Stories of unrequited love break my heart in a profound way.
• I write better when I'm in a deeply emotional state.

I think mostly I remember how I felt as a teenager and how all my problems seemed like the end of the world and I believe I still have the ability to convey that emotion, because in some way, part of me is still there, that girl who sometimes felt abandon, who made bad choices, who struggled with peer pressure, who faced things in life that at times made her want to give up, yet she somehow made it through. Yes, she still lives inside me and helps me tell my stories.

Some friends and me back in the day (circa 1986). I'm on the right.

I went to Vegas

And as I was having a great time in Vegas , people were dying in a tornado in Oklahoma.

And while I was having a great time in Vegas, a 18 year old boy succumbed to cancer.

But it's things like this that brought me to Vegas in the first place. I wrote a book last year. It was about a boy, much like the boy, Zach Sobiech, who died of cancer yesterday. It was about a boy who wanted to say goodbye. A boy who wanted to make a difference, even if it was a small one, before his time on earth was over. A boy who wanted to remind people that you only get once chance to live your life, and that you shouldn't take it for granted.

Though it was my message, I didn't live up to it, not until recently at least. But then people in my life started getting cancer. And people in my life started dying.

So I started living.

I'm publishing a book.

I'm kickboxing.

I'm getting out of my comfort zone.

Then a guy I'd never met asked me to go to Vegas and I said yes. 

Don't get me wrong. I've known him virtually for a while now, and I insisted we meet in person before  I actually made a final decision. So we hung out a couple times then I decided to go.

I went because at any moment I could take my last breath and leave this world without ever having seen Las Vegas and that would have been sad.

We continued to hang out until we went and we got along great and had a lot of fun together and we had a blast in Vegas, all while people lost their lives in different parts of the country.

But I don't think they'd mind much because we were taking advantage of the life that was given to us.

I hope when I die people are out there living life to the fullest. I know when I leave this place people will mourn my death, but I hope they don't do it for long. I hope they move on quickly and find solace in the memories they have of me whether I was their daughter, sister, mother or friend.

 I hope  they remember me when my spirit soared and how I tried to live like at any moment I could
get hit by a bus, or a piano could fall on my head or we could finally get that huge earthquake they've been promising for years and my world could come crumbling down around me, taking me with it.

But until that happens, I went to Vegas, and I know Zach Sobiech had huge Vegas moments, and I hope most of those who perished in Oklahoma had their Vegas moments.

Make sure you don't forget to take your Vegas moments. One day, you may not have the chance.

Love and Life,

Megan

Sigh: Death, and the Why's, and the Media

Another massacre. 

I don't even know what to say about it really. I'm almost speechless. What is there to say? All I can ask is why? Especially when, yet again, the death of a child is involved. If you're so angry and unhappy with the world, just blow your own brains out and let everyone else go on in this miserable world.

Why?

This is why I don't read or watch the news. I almost don't want to know about these tragedies. Ignorance is bliss, right? I didn't know anyone there, but I knew people who knew people there. Who were waiting for calls. Ugh.

And the media. They only perpetuate things. They only give these murderers what they want. You know what I want? This is what I want. I want the families of the dead to be notified. Then I want the dead to be named on television so that everyone else with family there knows it wasn't theirs, then I want to see no more of it. Why? Because that's what these killers want. They do it for attention. Maybe if we stop giving these depraved, crazy, sociopaths all this attention they would stop. They would stop killing children, and innocent bystanders, and people just out for a night at the movies, and people just going about their normal routines trying to make a living for their families, and the people who end up trying to save them.

Monkey Madness Monday: More to Walk Away With & a Little MLK

Don't you hate when you go away for a weekend for some R&R and you come back feeling like you never left.  I'm at the ocean. It's been a blast, but I don't feel rested. Which is fine. I've done a lot here: shopped, won some money at the casino, went to the beach, watched movies, played games. I didn't get to write though, which is my fault because I used to get up early. Now I sleep in. But now I stress because I have some projects to finish up.

Another thing happened too, and this is mostly what this blog is about today. This weekend I found out a writer friend died last July. He wasn't a great friend, I suppose more like an acquaintance, and I only knew him virtually, but still, he has been a pretty constant presence for me for five years. This is the third person in my virtual writing world that has passed in the last few years. It's strange because you suddenly wish you had talked to them more, found out more about them, instead of just joking around poking fun at the writing life and making gentle fun of noobs. So I took some time looking him up. I looked up past posts on a forum we were on together. Found a video on youtube. I know, it probably sounds totally psycho and stalkerish, but I wanted just a little bit more of him to walk away with.

I'd like to say that I'm going to go out and touch everyone's lives today. But it's hard to spread yourself that thin. I already have my personal friends and my family. I have different groups of writing friends, local, worldwide. I often regret that I can't keep up with all of them daily, but it's just not humanly possible. And of course, I meet more people every single day, in life, online...

I guess I'm just contemplative today. Even before this, I've been missing people I've met through my writing that I've just not been able to keep up with. And those I used to be super tight with, we just...have our real life to deal with. Our own writing, families, jobs, illnesses, vacations...it's hard.

And at this point I think I'm babbling. I just wish I had this expansive wingspan in which I could spread out over everyone I know and pull them in tight so I could always know what they're doing.

But alas...

Happy Monday All and a don't forget what today is...we celebrate a man who gave his life battling for equal rights against social injustice. 

 “If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way” ~ Martin Luther King Jr.

Wednesday Writing: An Unbalanced Line

From my rewrite and now round of revisions. I'm typing them up right now. This is toward the beginning when my protagonist, Chelsea, loses her mom to cancer. Tell me what you think.

By the time the doctors found the cancer, it was already widespread so the attempts at chemo and radiation proved to be futile. They gave her four to six months. We had no family to speak of. Mom’s parents were long dead, having been taken from this earth by a crackhead mugger. I had no aunts and uncles on my mom’s side, as she was an only child. My parents divorced when I was six and my dad lived a couple states away along with his sister and my Grandma Frankie—that’s short for Francesa. My mom had lots of friends though, and they took turns coming in and helping out, along with hospice, but mostly my mom’s best friend, Suki,.

I felt so helpless as I sat by her side and watched her hair fall out, as she disintegrated in her own bed, as her body grew weaker and more frail by the day, then finally as she silently slipped out of consciousness. Her already labored breath would catch, and her chest would heave when it became too painful even to breathe. I slept when she finally died after just three months, and I was glad for it. I wouldn’t want to have watched her take her last breath.

     Upon waking that morning, I went downstairs to find Suki and an odd pair of undertakers in my living room. The first undertaker was just like the ones you see in the movies. His name was George and he was very tall and pale with dark hair and a deep voice. The other’s name was George too. I know, too weird. He was the comic relief. It was almost like watching a vaudeville act instead of the men who were going to take my dead mom’s body out of my house forever.

     I stared, numb and feeling as if I was watching a movie instead of standing there in my own life. Suki paid attention as the undertakers delivered their monologues and then went about their duties. I stood there for a long time and Suki just let me, staying quiet, occasionally walking by and patting my arm or rubbing my shoulder between phone calls and cleaning and such.  I finally sat down when the undertakers rolled my mom out on a stretcher in a big black plastic bag with a zipper down the front. They handed Suki some pamphlets as they left. I went to the door, peeked out the peephole and ran my hand against the smooth oak. I watched them load up the plastic bag that held my mom’s body. I watched the Georges climb into their death mobile and drive away, then went to my mom’s room. The air was suffocating and musty. The scent of decay lingered.

Writing Wednesday

Yep, thought I'd get back to the Writing Wednesday and share a little of my crap, I mean my brilliance with you. Today, since I've been diligently working on my rewrite of An Unbalanced Line formerly known as Cheesy, I thought I'd share a bit with you.

I started up my mom’s car—an angel blue convertible BMW.  I backed out of the driveway and sat there in front of my house. My house that I’d never step foot in again, Suki standing out front weeping and waving. I waved back then headed down the street, through the neighborhood. I pass the cemetery and the Northpark Mall, toward I-55. After that it’s nothing but trees and pavement, trees and pavement, until I reach I-220. I’d swear there was about a church a mile as I continued south. I guess it wasn’t called the Bible Belt for nothing. We weren’t particularly religious people, but we did have a faith to us that may not be explainable in words and others may not understand. My mom was a deeply faithful person, but when it came to the aspects of religion that came from man himself, like the churches and the unwritten rules and such, well, I guess she was a bit of a rebel, which is why we didn’t belong to any denomination to speak of.

 I-220 meets I-20 at the Metrocenter. I enter the highway that would take me all the way to Southpaw and my new life. I pass more trees, shopping centers, a few hotels.  Before I hit the bridge that will take me over the Mississippi and into a different state altogether, I leave the highway for a short break, to grab a snack, to stretch my legs. I stop at the Kangaroo Express, buy a bottle of water and bag of Nacho Cheese Flavor Doritos, about the only kind of chips I can stand. I hop back into the Beemer and decide to take a short stroll through Riverside Park.

I park the car, grab my chips and head toward the river. Forgetting my jacket in the car, goose bumps break out as the cool spring breeze brushes across the surface of my skin. I wrap my arms around myself to keep warm. I follow the trail to the water. I tear open my bag and crunch into a chip as the water rushes past. The river’s not so different from time. When you look at it from a distance it almost seems to stand still, but the closer you are, the faster and more violent it rolls by, an unstoppable force. You couldn’t slow it if you tried.

Time seemed to stand still when mom first got sick, but then when the cancer raged full force, and she suddenly got worse, it was like fast forward. Suddenly she was dead. It still didn’t feel real—yet there I was driving my mom’s car across three states, chomping on Doritos, standing in front of the Mississippi River. In Mississippi. My home. Correction: former home. I breathed in the river and cotton, magnolias and the blues, and all things Mississippi, not knowing if I’d ever be back again.

When the Doritos were nothing but crumbs at the bottom of the bag and my fingertips were stained nacho-cheese-orange, I made my way back to the car, which at that moment I decided needed a name, climbed in, got back on I-20, and crossed the Mississippi River Bridge.

Queen of Dirt Part Deux

I check Amazon daily to see if I have new reviews, to check Never Eighteen's ranking, and see if I'm still on top book lists. I know I'm selling books if I'm on lists. Usually I'm on the following lists.

Books > 4-for-3 Books > Children's Books > Issues > Illness

Books > 4-for-3 Books > Children's Books > Issues > Death

Once I was on the romance list. 


Today I made a new list.


 Books > 4-for-3 Books > Teens > Health, Mind & Body > Sexuality

Um, that's different. I suppose the book has bits of sexuality within its pages. Very little bits. But, hey, this is a new realm. Will it help me sell more books? I have no frickin' idea. In truth, I have no idea what these lists really mean. What's a 4 for 3 book? Do you buy three and get the 4th free? I don't know. 

I am obviously still the Queen of Dirt. Maybe someone will send me a sash and a tiara this time. Oh, and if you want to find out just how much dirt and sex is in the book you can go buy it by clicking the title of the book at the top of the page, or you can enter my contest here.

Life is Fragile

I don't know how many times we're reminded of this throughout our lives. I've seen people in losing battles with alcohol and drugs. I've seen them in vehicle accidents. I've seen death. Too much of it for my age I think. Two people I knew died while I was in high school. Two right after. Many along the way up until now. My own daughter almost died on me when she was only five weeks old.

Yet still, and I'm guilty as anyone, we sit idle. Become complacent in life. Live an unhappy existence. I even wrote a book on the subject and I still find myself at times, sitting back watching the world go by.  Not as much as I used to, but still, a little.

I have tried to live up to the message of my book though. I've done a lot the last couple years. I've written books, gone to New York, Arizona, Sundance. I've started running, biking again. I'm getting out of my comfort zone. I try to touch people's live in a positive way. But still, I let myself get all crazy and frustrated by the things I can't control. I need to learn to let it go. YOLO. That's the motto. You only live once.

Do I want to live it frustrated all the time? Letting the smallest thing get to me? No. I merely want to LIVE it, and live it well. Live it to the best of my ability with no regret.

I'm having a contest. I posted it Monday. Enter here. Just post 6 things on your bucket list.

I'm dedicating this blog today to my niece, Gina. She was in a car accident yesterday. As you can see, she's amazingly beautiful and full of life. Could you send some good vibes, prayers or whatever you may do? Injuries seem to be minor, but everything helps, you know?

Live and love without regret,

Megan

Never Eighteen Half Year Birthday Contest!!!!!

First, let me say, it's been a wild ride. Never Eighteen has been selling pretty good, especially here in the Pacific Northwest where the book is set. But I've actually sold copies all over the world.

It started out tricky, as the night of my release party we had a major snow storm, which kept some people away. We also started a little early, so people could get home earlier, of course, this pissed others off. Also, a box of books didn't come in because of the snow. Luckily I had a couple boxes of my own in my car, but we still ran out. There were a couple other snafus, but I told myself, especially after hearing about the snow, it is what it is.

I've done 1 Skype school visit to Illinois, 3 library visits, 6 book store events, 7 interviews (not counting blog interviews), 14 school visits, and many more online events and had fun with every one of them.

I've lost an agent. I've struggled to write a second book. It took me over a year, which is unprecedented for me. I don't have a second book deal, nor do I have any foreign rights sold for Never Eighteen. I've spent just about every dime I have marketing Never Eighteen. Those are the frustrating things about the business.

I've met tons of cool readers, writers, librarians, bookstore owners, teachers. I love those connections so much.

And that's pretty much how my last six months have gone.

Okay, I've figured out the contest. For Never Eighteen's Half birthday I want you to tell me in the comments below, 6 things on your bucket list. I will pick the winner. What will you win? A signed copy of Never Eighteen, a CD of some of the songs on the playlist in the back of the book, and swag. Always swag!!!

photo by Charlie Wolf

Here are some of the things on my bucket list.

1. Take my kids to NYC
2. Go to Australia
3. Apologize to people I need to apologize to and welcome anyone who thinks I've wronged them to step forward and talk to me.
4. Thank all the people in my life you has helped me along the way.
5. Participate in a triathlon
6. Yeah, throw the big party.

Your turn. Six things on your bucket list.

Today is my birthday!!!

...book birthday, that is.

and it's snowing...

and I have no book seller for my party...

and I may have freaked out a little bit...

but I'm good. It's all good.

If I only get 5 people at my party...

if I don't sell any books...

I'm okay with that.

Today is my book birthday, and NOTHING can ruin it.

Unless I die. That would really suck.

Enjoy your day. I'm going to party!

Lamentations

There is a reason I call myself the angsty writer.  Last night was one of those reasons.  I don't think people realize how draining this business can be.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitching that I have a book deal, that would be stupid, but there is so much work that goes into it.  Not only that, but having a job on top of it leaves little time for other things.

At times I feel detached from the world I've created for myself.

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed.

Occasionally,  I feel like I can't hack it.

Sometimes I feel like everything I've implemented in the last four years, the blogs, the vlogs, the social networking is all for naught.

Sometimes everything I've implemented makes me feel like a whore and I get tired of myself and I think other people have to be getting tired of me too.

I think I might be having post traumatic stress disorder.  I was going to vlog about this, but haven't had the time yet, so I'll just talk about it here.

On Sunday, I was almost hit by a bus.  It sounds funny, and I even joked about it with some people, but the more I think about it, the more it scares the shit out of me.  I was in an unfamiliar city, trying to follow my GPS, and was distracted.  I ran a red light.

A bus had just entered the intersection, honestly, I don't know how I got out of it.  I remember screaming and swerving.  I must have sped up.

I know I should just focus on the fact that I didn't get plastered all over the pavement, but I can't help to think about what could have happened.  What if someone was coming from the other direction?  I would have been hit on my side of the car.  What if another car had been on the other side of the bus?

I'm thankful my kids weren't in the car with me.

I can't stop thinking about it.

But obviously I'm still meant for this world.  It wasn't my time.  I try not to focus on the what-could-have-happened, but it's hard.

I think it's the reason I've been in a funk and unable to sleep all week.

I'm not sure this post even has a purpose other than me venting.  Thank you for being my sounding board this morning.

Third Degree Thursday: Last Days

I've been thinking a lot about the message behind Never Eighteen, and what I would bring to schools were I to give a presentation.  I think part of it would be to pose the question, "What would you do if you knew your time on earth was coming to an end?"

I mean, what if you only had, let's say, a year left?  What would you do with that time?

I think I'd travel a lot.  I've always wanted to do a cross country road trip.  It think I would do that and see all the sites I've never seen while visiting family and friends.  There are many writer's I've connected to along my journey, but never met in person.  I think I would try to meet as many of them as I could.

I'd throw one hell of a going away party.  At the very end, I'd donate everything I own to charity, money to the children's hospital, possessions (the ones I don't leave to my kids) to people who need it.  Insurance money is for the kids.

And I may or may not buy a monkey.

So tell me, what would you do if you only had a year left to live?

Wending Wednesday: The Journey to Publication Part 2

When we left off, my mother-in-law had just passed away.  I was grieving with nothing but time on my hands.  I decided to write again, something I hadn't done since college.

Thing One and Thing Two were getting close to reading age, so I wanted to write something for them.  Something they could relate to and would love.  I started writing Dena Powers: Superhero?  I created characters named after my girls, who had their personalities and physical traits.  They were super excited.

It kind of started out as a hobby; I'd sit down and write between getting the kids to and from school, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping.  When everyone was at home, I'd put it aside.  But soon I was at 50 pages and I said to myself wow, this is turning into a real book.

So, I kept writing.  That 50 pages turned into 100, then 150, and about 50,000 words later, it was a novel, and I thought a pretty good one.

One day I left it at my dad's house accidentally.  He took a look and said, "This is pretty good stuff.  We should try to get you published."

So I edited.

A couple weeks later my dad emailed me: Have you seen this? 

It was an article about a new contest that was being put on by Amazon.com and Penguin.  It was called the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest.  ABNA for short.

We all, (me, my dad, my husband) decided that I should enter my little superhero novel, so I did.

Stay tuned next week for part three.

To read part one, click here.

Below is a video I made awhile back about why I started the journey.

T Tuesday. T is for Theme

Themes.  Do you have some that run through just about every one of your novels?  Here are a few things that I see me constantly writing about, whether they play a major part or a supporting role.

Soccer: I love soccer.  I love watching my kids play soccer.  I used soccer in the MG series I wrote (my very venture into novel writing), it also had it's supporting roll in Never Eighteen (NE).  It makes sense because every weekend for about nine months out of the year I am either watching one or two games a week.

Coffee, particularly Starbucks:  I'm addicted, so this just makes sense.  In the MG series, they have a favorite coffee shop, in NE Kaylee works at Starbucks.  In Lockdown there is a scene with the shooters mom and the police where they talk over coffee.

Death:  Yep.  I'm starting to think I may be obsessed with or at least fascinated by it.  People die.  I've killed or made someone gravely ill in every book I've written be it nemesis, best friend, or the entire cast.  I think in my WIP (work in progress) I won't kill anyone, though my protagonist is fascinated by death.

Teen social issues: Eating disorders, domestic abuse, drug abuse, alcoholism, depression, sexual assault, homosexuality, violence, I've written about all of them.  The sad thing is, teens face these problems every day whether it's their own issue, or someone close to them.

So, what reoccurring themes do you find running through your writing?

Do share.

T is for Timeworn: MySpace

Is MySpace dead?  I want your opinions.  I was thinking about my myspace page sitting there gathering cobwebs and wondering, do people still go there.  Would it be worth revamping my page and  posting my blogs there?  Could there possibly be anyone over *there* that is not on Facebook?

I know they gave their site a face-lift (which I hate BTW) but was it enough to stir up a second coming?  Do any of you use myspace?

Is it worth my time to dust my page off and keep up with it?  When I do check it, which is close to never, I do have friend requests waiting for me.  So obviously SOMEONE is there, but are they all just a bunch of SPAMmers and musicians wanting to be loved, or are they people worth giving a damn about.

Give me your two cents.

Ciao,
~Megan

Writing Wednesday: Sad

Unedited of course.

We never said a word to each other until we both found ourselves at Lacy McKenna’s kegger.  The best cure for shyness is a couple pints of beer.  I remember just sitting there in the corner by myself, Haley, that’s my best friend, was off getting us a couple more beers.  David came up and said, “You’re the girl that shits behind me in English.” 

     I couldn’t help but laugh at the way he slurred sit to sound like shit.  “Yeah, that’s me.”

     He sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders.  “I’ve seen you looking at me.  Why you always doin’ that?”

     I looked at him and said, “Because I find you interesting.”

     “Why?”

     “You’re so quiet and always look like you’re deep in thought.  I sometimes wonder what you’re thinking about.”

     “Really?”

     “Yeah, really.”

     “That’s kind of cool.”

     An awkward silence lingered between us, and I figured it couldn’t get any more awkward so I said, “I heard about your dad.  Sorry.”

     He looked at me and said, “You want to go talk somewhere?  Quieter I mean?”

     “Sure.” 

     He grabbed my hand and led me through the living room.  Haley was heading back with my beer, so snatched it from her and said, “Be back in a bit.”  Knowing how much I crushed on David, she gave me the thumbs up then went on her way. 

     David took me up a staircase, and opened the first door on the right, which he immediately closed back up saying, “Oops, sorry.”  He turned and gave me an embarrassed look.  I giggled.

     Door number three seemed to be the charm.  He led me to the bed where we sat in silence for a minute sipping our beers while he eyed me cautiously.  Finally he said, “I’ve never really talked about it and no one up to this point has ever asked.”

     “About your dad?”

     “Yeah?”

     “That’s because people trip over their tongues when it comes to talking about the hard facts of life.”