30 days of thanks: day 13

I'm thankful for my readers. I thank everyone that showed up at my Dissected launch party last night. I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I know there were others that wanted to be there but had to work, or were sick, but I know they were there in spirit.

I was so nervous, there was so much I forgot that I wanted to say. I wanted to say, that writing what I write, the hard stuff, the people with flaws, with issues...I write it because I'm drawn to it, because it resonates with me. The people in my books - I know them. In many ways I am them.

I also wanted to tell them that if you read the book and if you like the book, consider taking the time to review it on Amazon. Not just my book, but any book of any author that maybe someone hasn't heard of, because it does help. If we get a number of reviews, Amazon might move us to a certain list, or section that might give us a little more promotion.

Also, if you like it, tell a friend.

Okay enough about that and back to my readers. I started writing because I love to do it. It's a form of therapy, a copying mechanism, not unlike my characters Sydney's decision to cut. But since getting published, I realize how important my readers are to me. To inspire them or to give them a story or character to connect with, that makes me feel good.

Here are just a couple tidbits of messages I've received from people who've read my work:

"...i felt like i had a sense of enlightenment and it made me want to be a better person..."

"My younger daughter died of osteosarcoma (a bone cancer) in Dec 2007; she was sixteen.  She would have had so much in common with Austin.  Her courage continues to inspire me and while I will never get over her loss, I have made it through.  Thank you for giving teens with cancer a voice."

"...Never Eighteen changed my entire outlook on life. Thank you so much for writing this wonderful book. ...Thank you again for this amazing contribution to the literature world!"

Just a few, but you get the point. Messages like these make me feel amazing and want me to keep doing what I'm doing.

So, thank you readers for inspiring me and motivating me to keep going.

Happy Wednesday!

Writing Wednesday : A Tattered Life

Well I'm up to about 5600 words in this book. It's coming slow, but I've not had a lot of writing time lately. I will now, as I once again have more writing time on my hands. I'm liking this MS, though I find it a challenge to write from the alternating perspectives of a journal writer then the reader 8 months later. But I'm always up for a challenge. :) 

 Setting this scene, Jaden is waiting for Payton out in his truck. He's read more of the journal, and about the "white trash" girl's life, and he sees similarities between her and Payton and starts to worry...

I slide into the truck and pull the notebook out of my bag. Flipping through the pages, I try to find where I left off. Just as I get to the right page, I jump, startled by a loud knock on my passenger window.  I look up and Payton’s standing there, shaking her head, rolling her eyes and motioning for me to unlock her door.

“Jesus, you scared me to death.”

“That was my intention,” she says looking at me strangely, like she’s seeing something new about me. “What are you reading? You looked, well, engrossed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that interested in something before, aside from football and cheerleaders, that is.”

I shove the notebook back in my bag and throw it behind the seat.  “I have interests beyond football you know?”

Now she looks at me like I’m mad as a hatter. “Oh, you do, do you? And what might those be?”

Staring into her eyes, I pull a classic Jaden move. “You.” Her breath catches and I scoot closer to her, caress her cheek and move in for a kiss.

Unexpectedly, she shoves me away. “Not here! Are you crazy? We’ll be seen.”

She’s right. I don’t know what got into me. I’ve never been that flagrant with our relationship. If anything, I’m beyond paranoid, always looking over my shoulder, careful not to be seen by anyone, especially Ava. I don’t say a word; I just scoot back, turn the key in the ignition and head to our spot.

We pull in and draw near each other. My hands immediately heads under Payton’s shirt, hers clasp the back of my neck. We lean in and our tongues find one another, dancing, and swirling in the other’s mouth. My mind starts to race, but not like it usually does to things like the color of Payton’s panties and how fast I can get her bra off. No, today it travels to the girl in the notebook and her secret rendezvous with Noah. I push Payton away.

Confused look on her face she says, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I don’t really know what, if anything, is wrong. My mind just keeps going back to those last two entries. I have questions. “Nothin’. Nothin’s wrong.” I grab her hand in mine. It’s not like Ava’s, soft and smooth like milk. It’s firm, a little rough around the edges like her, but nice —and warm. “Our relationship—”

“Relationship?” Her brows are furrowed.

“You know what I mean. This thing we have, you know it’s just for fun, right? That it’s just what it is or what it will ever be.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” She sounds pissed.

“What I mean is, I’m with Ava, you understand that, right?”

She pulls her hand away from mine. “Jesus, Jaden, you think I’m an idiot?”

“No. I’m sorry. I just wanted things to be clear between us.”

Slamming up against the bucket seat she says, “It’s crystal.”

I lean over to her and whisper, “Sorry, babe.” I kiss her ear, her neck, make my way down her chest when another thought hits me. I sit back.

“Now what?”

“Your step dad — you guys get along okay?”

“What? Are you writing a book? Yeah, we get along fine.”

I look in her eyes; try to tell if she’s lying. “He doesn’t like, uh, you know—” she stares at me expectantly, shaking her head, waiting for me to finish. “He doesn’t hurt you does he? Touch you?”

At first, she looks pissed, but then her expression softens.  She reaches up and cups my cheek in her hand. “Jaden…,” she says so soft I can barely hear her, “…you’ve been watching too many movies.” Then she giggles, throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek and I feel relief. So much relief that I get choked up and I grab her and hold her tight. I don’t want her to see me like that, so I just keep holding her and I let her kiss my neck and the side of my face and wherever she wants until is subsides.

Writing Wednesday: Sad

    A little snippet.  I'm getting close to being done.  Have to flesh it out a bit and add some elements.  Tell me what you think.

 

     David and I decided that if we were going to be ready together, and the night was to be perfect, we’d have to plan it.

     “Prom night,” David said shoveling some fries in his face at Baldy’s, our new favorite hangout.

      “That’s pretty cliché,” I said.

      “No, it’s not, because we’re not going to prom.”

      I stopped mid fry and looked in his eyes.  “We aren’t?”

     “No, prom is for the superficial and desperate.  We’re skipping it.”  He took a sip of his mega-pop that had to be at least eighty-five ounces.

     “What if I don’t want to skip it?” I said, finally finishing my fry.

     David gaped at me like he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying, as if I was speaking a foreign language.

     “What?”  I said.

     He pointed a French fry at me and said, “What sounds better?  Wearing uncomfortable clothes and conforming to the conventional, phony social rituals of a misguided youth?  Listening to banal music created by mama’s boys wearing guyliner whose hearts have been broken into a million pieces? Witnessing the doldrums of fake ceremonious elections for elitist snob kings and queens while everyone else’s hopes and dreams are scattered all over the floor with the leftover streamers?” He took a breath.  “Or, would you rather have a romantic evening in a beautiful hotel suite with the love of your life, feeding each other chocolate covered strawberries and drinking champagne, while giving completely and profoundly of yourself, and then tangling up together and falling asleep in each other’s arms?”

     “Well, when you put it that way—”

T is for Talk: Conference Talk

While I can't give you details of each class, because the talks are the property of each faculty member at the conference, I can give you a little idea of the sessions I took and the basic concept behind them, and also what else went on.

First there was an Editor/Agent/Art director panel, which was pretty informative.  People on the panel included Lionel Bender, Justin Chanda, Sarah Davies, Martha Mihalick, Joe Monti, Anne Moore, Timothy Travaglini, Liz Waniewski, Tina Wexler, and Marietta Zacker (you're going to have to look them up)

Then was keynote address by Deborah Wiles, which was amazing.  She talked about writing from your head, your heart, and your imagination and shared some personal stories and how they translated to content in her books.

My first breakout session was labeled as Marketing Mania: To the Bookshelf-The Sometimes Hidden Path, the speaker was agent Joe Monti.  It wasn't really was I thought it was going to be.  I thought it would talk more about Marketing, but it talked mainly about the process before that, what to expect between the time a book is signed to how it gets to the shelves.

My second session was Collaborative Marketing: Strength in Numbers by Roseanne Parry.  She was part of the Class of 2k9, and gave a lot of great information I can use with 2k12.  One of my favorite sessions.

Next session was How Far is Too Far in Teen Lit by Brent Hartinger.  I think he is an amazing person, and we happened to attend the same high school, though he was two years out by the time he got there.  This is what I took from that class:  I'm going to write what I want and let my agent figure out if it's too edgy.  You can go pretty far these days in edgy YA, and would be with good company.

I already told you I missed a few keynotes, which I really would have liked to see, but shit happens.

Sunday my first session was Five Ways to Make Your Character Sparkle by Kevin Emerson.  Great workshop about character development.  Kevin was very funny.  This was the session that I got up and read my stuff.  It was scary.

Next session, Writing From Anger by E. Lockhart.  Not what I expected, but it was interesting.

Next was Character Driven Stories by Liz Waniewski.  This was very helpful.  Most of the stuff I've written is character driven, and she gave us a worksheet to help us shape our characters, that was based on what she looks for when reading a manuscript.

There was another panel.  Local success stories. I'm not going to remember them all I think, but some of them were Carole Dagg, Caridad Ferrer, Craig Orback, Wendy Wahman, Jim Whiting, Jesse Joshua Watson, and Dori Yang.

There was also book signings.  I got a book signed by Holly Black and Brent Hartinger.

And then I nearly collapsed, so I left before the last keynote.

All in all a fun, informative weekend I would highly suggest to anyone.  There is no limit on educating yourself, and continuing to work on your craft.

Tooting the Horn Tuesday: Interview with Amy Holder

Today I'm posting an interview I did with, Amy Holder, the author of, The Lipstick Laws.  This is her debut novel, slated for release April 4, 2011.  Want to know what it's about . . .

At Penford High School, Britney Taylor is queen bee. She dates whomever she likes, rules over her inner circle of friends like Genghis Khan, and can ruin anyone's life as easily as snapping her perfectly manicured fingers. Just ask the unfortunate few who have crossed her. 

For April Bowers, Britney is also the answer to her prayers. With zero friends and nothing close to a boyfriend, April is so unpopular, kids don't know she exists. That is, until Britney notices her. One lunch spent at Britney's table, and April is basking in the glow of popularity. 

But Britney's friendship comes with a price tag. How much is April willing to pay?

1.Tell me about The Lipstick Laws? Personal experience, or pure fiction?

The Lipstick Laws is 99% pure fiction, but there are some influences from personal experience. I definitely shared some of the same feelings about wanting to be accepted as the main character (April) when I was a teen.  And the whole story is actually set in a fictional town around the very real town that I grew up in.  The mall in the book was a stomping ground for me and my friends when we were in high school.

 

2.Were you a bra stuffer back in high school like your main character, April?  Or did you harbor some other humiliating secrets?  Are you willing to share?

 

Hmmm...If I had been, I'm not sure I'd admit it.  Honestly, though, I was never a bra stuffer, but I’ve been known to wear a push-up bra or two (not at the same time). 

 

And do you really think I'll admit to any other humiliating secrets publicly like this?  Are you crazy?  Don't worry, I have plenty of them... but they're for me to know and you to imagine.

 

3.Did you know people as awful as Britney when you were a teenager?  If so, how did you handle them?

Thankfully I didn't know anyone quite as bad as Britney as a teenager.  However, I wasn't completely immune to the oh-so typical cattiness of high school girl drama.  How did I handle it? I made sure my nails were extra sharp for the catfights.  I'm talking razor blade sharp fingerclaws.  Okay, I wasn't ever in any real catfights...but it sounds so much more interesting than saying I tried to ignore it, doesn't it?

 

4.Do you have one favorite line from your novel?

I have a couple of favorite lines for different reasons, but one of my favorites is at the end when April says: "Smiling to myself, I realize that it's definitely better to be wanted than to be the one wanting." 

 

I like this line because I think it shows character growth and strength that she didn’t have in the beginning of the book. I can’t explain why without giving away spoilers…so I’ll just leave it at that.  

 

5.Where is your favorite writing spot?

My favorite writing spot is at my desk in my office because I love my comfy chair and widescreen computer! The only problem is that it's attached to the internet...and I have a TV tuner... so it's very easy to get distracted.  Now I understand why some writers choose to write longhand in quaint cottages in the middle of nowhere.

 

6.If you could choose one writer whose brain you could pick over, dead or alive, who would it be?

J.K Rowling!  I'm a huge Harry Potter geek and would love to pick over J.K Rowling's brilliant imagination!  Although I'm not sure if I'd trust myself with that privilege...because I might be tempted to run away with her brain.

 

7.What is your favorite thing to do outside of writing?

I've always loved art, so in my spare time I enjoy doing anything creative and artistic. Creative energy makes me feel happy and peaceful.  It's so much better than math energy, in my opinion. 

 

8.Is there a word you always misspell?  And what is it?

Art u nutz? I nefer mispit wordes. 

Truthfully, I'm a spell check addict!  I wish I had a spell check switch in my brain. One word that I always used to misspell when I was little was beautiful.  I always forgot the A in it... and I'm pretty sure it drove my elementary teachers crazy.  When my fourth grade teacher saw me years later as an older teen, she joked with me about it and asked me to spell beautiful for her.  And I'm proud to say that I spelled it beautifully!  Oh, and I even added a snippet about this particular misspelling inside joke in The Lipstick Laws. 

 

9.What are you currently reading?

I just finished an ARC of The Sweetest Thing by Christina Mandelski, a fabulous Class of 2k11 classmate of mine.  It's deliciously sweet!

 

10.Who is your celebrity crush?

If the cards are in my favor (fingers, toes, hair, eyes and elbows crossed), I hope to marry Henry Cavill from The Tudors.  Unfortunately I'll probably have to live in reality and just be satisfied with drooling over him on TV.  Henry, if you're reading this, call me. *wink, wink*

11. What are you working on now? 
I’m currently working on a couple projects for various age groups, but the one closest to completion is a contemporary YA manuscript with a paranormal twist.  I’m hoping it will be my next book to hit the bookshelves…but a Lipstick Laws sequel may also be an option.

Read my review of The Lipstick Laws by clicking here.

About Amy:

Amy Holder is a writer, artist, and animal lover.  Her educational background is in Psychology, but her heart remains loyal to her love of writing and the creative arts.  She has worked in the early education, social service, and freelance writing and design fields prior to being published.  Other than writing, some of her interests include art, animals, reading, shopping, photography, pop culture, theater, nature, and spending time with family and friends.  Originally from Upstate New York, Amy currently resides in the Philadelphia area with her many adopted pets.

Writing Wednesday: A blog and some Sad

First off, I blogged for The Class of 2k11 this morning, check it out here.

Secondly. Here is a snippet from the book formerly known as Sad, which for now I'm changing to FML.  It is unedited, R rated, and not for the faint of heart.  You may leave comments if you wish.

     Speak of the devil.  Tammy walked in humming some sickingly sweet love song, looking way to peppy for my tastes.  Instead of punching her in the face I only glare in her general direction.  She stops in her tracks, looks over at me and lets out a little yelp.  I can’t help but giggle.  “Jesus, Syd, you scared the shit out of me.  What the hell are you doing home?”

     “Brooding,” I said and went back to looking out the window.

     “What are you brooding over?” 

     I looked back at her.  She didn’t give a shit, that much was certain.  She stood there with her stupid messy blond ponytail, hand on her jutted out hip, her legs shooting out of her boxers like sticks.  She made me sick.  “Fuck off, Tammy,” I said.

    “Jesus, you kiss mom with that mouth?  I’m trying to be nice here.”

    “Go be nice somewhere else?  What are you even doing here?  Out of places to bed hop?”

     Her face fell.  I’d hit her where it hurt.  But everyone knew she was a slut.  She rarely spent a night at home.  Still, I’m sure she wasn’t proud of it, and I felt guilty.  I shouldn’t take my frustrations concerning David and Haley out on Tammy.  Even if she was a major bitch.   “Hey, Tammy, I’m sorry.  It’s just . . . David and I broke up.”

     She gave me a puzzled look and then asked, “Who’s David?” 

     And this was why I hated her.  She cared nothing about the world around her.  All she cared about was how she looked and who she was going to lay.  I went from remorse to rage in two seconds flat.  “My boyfriend.”

     She stared at me as if I was speaking a foreign language.  Then she said, “You have a boyfriend?”  as if it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

      “Had,” I said.  I stood up, bumped into her as I passed, nearly knocking her against the wall, and went to my room.

     She called after me, “How the hell was I supposed to know?”

     “Open your eyes,” I yelled back right before slamming my door so hard it knocked my framed picture of me and Haley off my wall.  It crashed to the wooden floor, which was fine with me.  I walked over to it, grabbed the frame and threw it in my trash can.  I started picking up the big chunks of glass when one sliced into my finger.    I automatically dropped the glass, but then just stared at my finger, mesmerized.  Why?  I’m not sure.

     Watching the blood as it dripped from my finger to my wrist, down to my elbow and then to the floor, was serene in a strange way, like sitting on the edge of a stream of blood, watching as it twists and turns over the terrain of my arm.  And I felt this release as if everything that had happened the last couple days was oozing out of me, becoming nothing but a pool of heartbreak on my bedroom floor that I could wipe up and throw away.

  For the first time in the last twenty four hours I felt . . . a kind of peace.  I also felt like I was going to pass out.