The End

So, recently a couple of my favorite series have ended.  Melissa Marr’s Wicked Lovely series’ last book came out yesterday, and Last Sacrifice, the final book in the Vampire Academy series, came out in December.  I’m usually okay with a series ending, as I’m a big believer of leaving before you’re thrown out, but I find that I’m not so anxious to give up some of my series anymore.

Reading a series is like eating comfort food: you know what to expect, you’re familiar with the flavor, and it always satisfies.  Sure, some books aren’t as good as others in the series, but I know the characters and feel like I have a vested interest in the outcome of their story from page one.  With a book featuring new characters I have to grow to like the characters.  Sometimes that never happens.  Sometimes I’m only sticking through their story because I’m waiting for that moment when everything falls apart. 

Either way, I much prefer reading a new book in a series than something completely new.  Maybe it’s because my reading roots are in fantasy, where a series can have eleventy billion books, but I hate leaving characters.

So, what do you think?  Are series something you like, or are you strictly a stand-alone type person?  Or do you just pick up anything that grabs your attention?

On Ass-Kicking Heroines (and other women I have known)

Once - long, long, ever-so-long ago - I was a high school student. Now, I've written before about my insufferable dorkiness, and my loneliness, and the fact that I was out of step, out of rhythm and generally odd. But what I haven't blogged about was about my athleticism - and how my experience as an athlete changed how I thought about myself, how I thought about my body, and how it changed who I am as a writer now.


For a little context, though, let me tell you a little about the high school I went to: it looked like a prison. I say this without hyperbole or histrionics. My high school was designed by the same guy who designed the state prison in Stillwater, Minnesota. It had almost no windows - and those it had were narrow little strips of cloudy plexiglass that let in precious little natural light. It was built from slab upon slab of dull brown concrete, reinforced by steel. Inside, the rooms were lit by harsh, flickering florescent lights, and the doors could be locked from the outside in case of "emergencies"  - though we were never told what, in the opinion of the powers that be, constituted an "emergency". The student body was dynamic, involved and diverse in almost every respect - by economics, by race, by first-languages, by immigration status. We were one of the first high schools in America to offer four years of Native American language study (Dakota/Lakota and Ojibwe), and the first high school to have a Hmong student association. As a white person, I was a minority - an experience that precious few white people get to have in this country, much to their detriment, if you ask me. As a student body, we had all kinds of differences, but there was an over-arching spirit of comraderie and unity that sought to see the differences in our community as part of our strength - and we celebrated it.

However, there were problems. The school itself was situated in a neighborhood that found itself the unwitting setting for a gang turf war. Gunshots were commonplace - not inside the school, but we could hear them nonetheless. My freshman year, one of my classmates was shot in the belly at a party - he was wearing the wrong colors, apparently. (He lived, though barely) My sophomore year, my principal, upon learning that two rival gangs were facing off in the street in front of the school, was hit over the head with a crow-bar, and was brought in, blood streaming down his face, right in the middle of lunch.

To top it off, the parks (not to mention the vacant houses) nearby were riddled with crime - drugs, prostitution and some terrible attacks against women. The girls in my high school were given dark and sinister warnings about Places Where We Could Not Go and Things We Should Never Wear In Public and Things That We Must Never Do.

But then I became an athlete. And then everything changed.

To be scared of the world around you is to relinquish your personal power. There is something heady and marvelous about snatching that power back. I joined the cross country team. I got strong. I got fast. I was by no means the fastest kid on the team, but I was Varsity, could run a mile in five and a half minute, and could bench my own weight. I could beat boys bigger than me in arm wrestling matches and  hip check hockey players when they got fresh.

My body became an instrument of power - and I was drunk on it.

My friends were athletes too, and we took it as a point of pride to scorn any and every bit of safety advice that our teachers had given us. We ran in the dark. We ran through alleys and tough neighborhoods. We re-designed our routes to take us to the places where bad things had recently happened.

Bring it on, we were saying to the world. You mess with us and we will take you down. We will mess you up, then we will run ten miles. We are unbeatable, unstoppable, uncatchable. 


And the thing is: we believed it.


And nothing bad ever happened, though I wonder what would have happened if it did. I wonder how we would respond to the intersection of our perception of our own power and the harsh reality of true violence. Clearly, we lived in a fantasy of our own making, but despite the fact that we took some stupid, stupid risks, I feel like we deserved to feel that way. We deserved to be bad-ass. We deserved to be heroines.

And we deserved, for just a little while, to feel that sense of unchecked power.

A new butt-kicking supergirl for paranormal fans.

Riley was hoping to trap a simple Biblio-Fiend making a nuisance of itself at the library -- one of her first traps on her own -- but instead of making a name for herself as a decent trapper she's ended up all over the web in a video that makes her look like a total spaz. You know, books flying, shelves toppling, the Biblio nearly escaping.

She's the only female Trapper in the Guild, and the old boys' club already thinks the only reason she's an apprentice is that her dad is the legendary Paul Blackthorne. This so isn't helping. And the last person she wants to see is the first person who shows up -- cute but obnoxious Beck, a guy who idolizes her dad and treats her like a little kid. And he doesn't believe her when she says that the demons must be working together -- a low-grade Bilio-Fiend can't create that kind of chaos on its own.
 
It's not long before things get even worse, when the unthinkable befalls Riley, Beck, and the entire Guild. It's a tragedy that makes stresses like Riley's crush on fellow apprentice Simon and her strained friendship with civilian Peter and even the economic upheaval that is her hometown of Atlanta seem like small potatoes. With a whole new -- and scary and tragic -- look on life, Riley has a new mission: find the Grade Five Geo-Fiend who created this disaster and put an end to it all.

Set in a post-apocalyptic-y Atlanta that most of us wouldn't recognize, and built on intricately woven mythology, THE DEMON TRAPPER'S DAUGHTER by Jana Oliver is a fast-paced, exciting read. With sparks of romance and bone-chilling fight scenes, the intrigue and the action compel the reader forward with each turn of the page. I am eagerly anticipating the sequel, set for release in fall of this year. In the meantime, if you've loved the tough heroines in series like Lili St. Crow's STRANGE ANGELS and Richelle Mead's VAMPIRE ACADEMY, get thee to a bookseller or library and pick up THE DEMON TRAPPER'S DAUGHTER.

How Much Time Do You Spend Online?

I spend a lot of time on the computer. A lot. At least, I dunno, 14-15 hours a day? And when I’m not on the computer, I have my trusty Droid phone in my right hand – just in case my agent needs me or my editor needs me or Alex Pettyfer needs me. (Kidding, kidding)

How much time do you spend on the computer?

I have a day job, and then I come home and write and do social networking and watch great videos on YouTube (a Tribute to Gwildor from Masters of the Universe, anybody?).

All very important things.

So I recently had the opportunity to read an ARC of AWAKEN, by Katie Kacvinsky. It comes out on May 23, 2011. Here’s a description: 

“Maddie lives in a world where everything is done on the computer. Whether it’s to go to school or on a date, people don’t venture out of their home. There’s really no need. For the most part, Maddie’s okay with the solitary, digital life—until she meets Justin. Justin likes being with people. He enjoys the physical closeness of face-to-face interactions. People aren’t meant to be alone, he tells her.

Suddenly, Maddie feels something awakening inside her—a feeling that maybe there is a different, better way to live. But with society and her parents telling her otherwise, Maddie is going to have to learn to stand up for herself if she wants to change the path her life is taking.”

I enjoyed this book and it made me think a lot about my own life. In the book, Maddie does most things from her own bedroom, and her dad likes it that way because it keeps her out of trouble and keeps her safe, etc. Maddie’s never been kissed, never been on a real date, never done much of anything.

I have a hard time making friends in real life. I have a hard time going out to dinner with a random group of people I don’t have anything in common with. I even get upset when work colleagues who aren’t friends ask me to get coffee.

It just makes me uncomfortable.

For a long time, I wrote my stories in solitary, with only my husband and my dad as beta readers. I got all my “energy” from myself, from doing the things I enjoy like reading and getting coffee by myself (or with my husband) and eating Mexican food. Sure, I have friends, but it’s best to have friends who share your passions. My passion is writing, so I felt lonely for a long time.

And then I discovered the online writing community, and my world blew up. I talk to so many authors every day. And I enjoy it. I’m comfortable with it. I’m more social than I’ve been in years, since college. What’s even better is that I can control who I talk to and for how long.

What I liked best about AWAKEN is that the author showed that what’s most important is balance.

In that regard, I’ve met some online writing friends at conferences, and I really enjoyed it. It didn’t feel forced. And we got drinks and Mexican Food!, and talked “in the real world.”

I’m still working on finding the balance in other areas of my life, but I am very grateful for the online writing community. I’m grateful for all the great friends I’ve made.

How about you all?

Do you prefer being online, or meeting people in person? What makes you most comfortable?

Can you imagine being a writer and NOT having the online writing community?

Books that would be better with explosions.

So on Friday Miranda posted about how much she loves love. Like, she loves love in contemporary stories and she loves love in dystopian and fantasy stories but mostly she loves love in realistic stories. And of course, I was all like, oh Miranda, what book ISN'T better with an explosion? Because, you know, love is great and all, but explosions are kinda where it's at. And you know what? THAT MIRANDA NEVER ANSWERED. So here, for you (and Miranda), I present a very short list of books that would be better with explosions.

1. ROMEO & JULIET. I mean, we all already know what happens in ROMEO & JULIET. There are no surprises when you get to Freshman English and your teacher hands out Dover Thrift editions to the entire class and you are all like, oh, hey, star-crossed lovers. BUT, what if the Capulets were all, check it out, we have TNT! And ILLEGAL FIREWORKS FROM OVER THE COUNTY LINE! Yeah, violence never solved anything, but it's perhaps more entertaining (and, weirdly, a lot less macabre) then the age-old tale of double suicide in the name of romance.

2. MOBY DICK. Okay so I haven't read this book in, well, forever so I think there might actually be an explosion somewhere in its later chapters, but as you might remember I am of the PLEASE JUST MAKE IT STOP contingency when it comes to Melville. So I'm thinking that if the boat exploded and the whale exploded and Ishmael exploded and everything exploded in, say, chapter 2, okay, yeah. I think I'd read that book. All 20 pages of it.

3. EVERYONE POOPS. Just kidding. This might be the only book that wouldn't be improved by an explosion.

3. BLUBBER. Okay, we all know how I feel about THE JUDY, right? I love her and want to be her and think she's like sort of maybe a demigod. But here's the thing, imagine if BLUBBER were more like CARRIE. And, yeah, I know the mean girl gets her just desserts in this book, but what if the girl getting picked on could SHOOT LASERS FROM HER EYES. That'll learn some mean kids real fast, no? Or, you know, at least make for an EXPLOSIVE plot twist. Like, edge of your seat stuff. Think about it, THE JUDY. Dystopian robot girl BLUBBER could be your next bestseller.

4. BLUEBERRIES FOR SAL. Oh how I love Robert McClosky. And in this classic tale of a girl picking blueberries with her mom, and a bear cub doing the same, there is just so much cute and sweet you sort of, well, explode. But picture this: the bears are not bears but aliens. And they do not want Sal near the blueberries that they have travelled LIGHT YEARS to collect as data. So the BEAR ALIENS go on the offensive. Yeah, Sal. You had better take your pail and run, because it's about to get epic up in here. Fire and brimstone style.

5. TWILIGHT. Hey, I'm not knocking it. I read all four door-stop volumes. But I'm just saying. Wouldn't TWILIGHT be better if something BLEW UP? I know, I know, there's that car accident where Bella ALMOST DIES and Edward is all TO THE RESCUE but it's not an explosion. There is no fire. No debris propelled at high speed into someone's eyeballs. I seriously think Meyer should look into incorporating explosions into her next work of fiction. I think that, maybe, if there had been an explosion, Jacob would have had a chance. And as a member of Team Jacob, I'm totally into that. I mean, Edward would have a hard time rescuing Bella from EXPLOSIVE FIRE, since, you know, fire kills vampires. Jacob would just get sexy scars from the ordeal. WIN.

So there you go. Five books that would be better with EXPLOSIONS. Not that I endorse violence. No, actually, I do. Just, you know, IN FICTION.

What books do you think would be better if stuff blew up? Tell me in the comments! TELL ME!

Contemporary Love vs. Paranormal and Dystopian Love: Which Do You Love More?

I love apocalyptic and dystopian stories. LOVE them.

I am not sure why it’s so fun to watch Los Angeles get destroyed by tornados in The Day After Tomorrow, considering people are dying and all, but any time this movie is on, I stop to watch it. Same goes for 2012 and Independence Day and Dante’s Peak and Volcano and…

I guess I’m an Armageddon whore. (pun intended)

But when it comes to the actual romances in these movies, I could care less. Jeff Goldblum is having problems with his lady friend in Independence Day? Who cares? Did you just see the White House get blown to smithereens? Who cares that Jake Gyllenhaal can’t tell Emmy Rossum he likes her in The Day After Tomorrow? A giant wave just took out Manhattan! And helicopters are freezing in midair!

When it comes to books, I feel the exact same way.

A lot of people loved MATCHED and TWILIGHT and DELIRIUM because of the longing.  The characters in these books couldn’t be together because of some outside force. Sure, I care if the guy and girl get together or not, but it’s not the main reason I’m reading and loving these books.

For instance, in I AM NUMBER FOUR, there’s a big romance, but I honestly didn’t care that much. I was more interested in how John had to change his life all the time, and the logistics involved with that. How did he get his money? How did he blend into society so seamlessly? How did he buy all new things every time he had to adopt a new persona?

In MATCHED, I was interested in the 100 poems, 100 books, 100 songs, etc. The government in this book decided that there could only be 100 of any given thing, and the rest would be destroyed. I thought, how did the government choose which books to save? Which books would I save? Which songs? I was way more interested in imagining those scenarios than whether the main character chose Ky or Xander.

And with TWILIGHT, which I still love of course, it’s not like any guy I’ve ever dated has thirsted for my blood. (I hope)

I guess what I’m saying is that “I’m Not Feeling It.”

I didn’t cry when I read DELIRIUM or XVI or ACROSS THE UNIVERSE, even though I loved the books. However, I bawled like a baby when reading WHERE SHE WENT and AMY AND ROGER’S EPIC DETOUR. Hell, I even cry when reading Elizabeth Scott’s books and Simon and Schuster Romanic Comedies.

I got really upset when reading PROM AND PREJUDICE for crying out loud.

I think I’ve realized that I relate more to contemporary love stories, and feel more for the characters, because I can relate. Because “that could happen to me.”

I could want to be with the hot Will Darcy of the nearby prep school, but because he told me he doesn’t like scholarship students, and I am a scholarship student, I’ll never speak to him again. Even though I want him.

Or maybe this guy wants to be with me, but I want to be with his brother, and then eventually come to realize that the first guy was the better choice. But he’s moved on to another girl. That could actually happen!

Or maybe I want to be with this guy who’s in a gang, but I live in the ritzy part of Chicago, and he’s involved in all sorts of life-threatening drama. That could actually happen!

Now compare that with MATCHED and DELIRIUM. The government won’t let two people be together? How can I relate to that? I highly doubt I’ll wake up tomorrow to find that the U.S. Government won’t let me date the guy I want.

I didn’t cry while reading MATCHED or DELIRIUM, but SWEETHEARTS by Sara Zarr? You best your ass I did. J

Don’t get me wrong – I did find the guys in these dystopian books very swoon-worthy.

On the flip side, I recently read and loved WITHER. I was most surprised when I actually started getting interested in the love story. I had thought I’d be more interested in the virus destroying Earth’s population.

What kind of love story do you prefer?

Did you feel more while reading these dystopian and paranormal stories than I did?

Do you all think I’m a nut now? J

The Lost Art of Consistency

I'm terrible at being consistent.  I'm one of those "put the fires out as they light" kind of people, which means I'm usually running in several directions at any given time with no idea what I'm going to do when I get there.  I am not the person you want to ask to plan a large event.  I'll show up ten minutes before the party starts with a couple of pizzas, some two liters of soda, a cake that says "Happy Birthday Ethel", and a mass text message to everyone I know asking them if they want to stop by for Bobby's birthday party.  I am the definition of "phoning it in."

But it kind of makes me mad when some of my favorite authors do the same thing.

Recently I've read several books by authors I rely on, and they've been, well, pretty lame.  And when I say "lame" I don't mean that I've read them in one sitting only to find the world's worst cliffhanger (although that also irks).  No, I mean the book has sat on a shelf half-read for over a month because either the writing, the characters, or the storyline are so boring that I start to nod off every time I read a page.  It's a tragedy, and I want it to stop.

One of the reasons I get an author's follow up is because I feel like I can depend on it to be good.  That's the covenant of repeat business.  You give me a good product, I will continue to buy said product.  No one wants to plunk down twenty bucks for a "meh" book, and one of the reasons people don't try new authors (not me, I love debuts) is because they are spending money on an old favorite.  But what do you do when the old favorite disappoints?  To me, it's actually more irritating than when a debut isn't the greatest, because there's an expectation of something there that never develops.  With a debut, there's no expectation, or at least not as strong of one.

It's depressing when I have a book with a bookmark gathering dust.

Does it bother you when a favorite author's book doesn't move you?  More importantly, do you continue to buy their books, or find something else to read?

Art Intersecting Art Intersecting Art

One of my favorite museums on earth is right here in my hometown - The Minneapolis Institute of Arts.

Now, the reason for this particular favoritism has a little to do with the quality of the art itself (though, it's astonishing) but has more to do with the relationship I've had with this museum over the years. It's where we took our Elementary School field trips. It's where I once went on dates when we were past the mini-golf stage but weren't yet of drinking age. It's where I took my kids when they were little and we just needed to get out of the house. 

The MIA has, over the years, worked hard to make itself an inclusive place, to democratize art - it's free, for one; it has a play room and programming for children; it features free tours and lectures and music on Sunday mornings and hands-on art projects that parents can pretend are for their children to do, but secretly enjoy that odd satisfaction of decoupage and clay and tempura paints.

So, I love this museum. And I try to come over here at least once a month. But I do so on my own, on the sly and for my own particular reasons.

I come to the institute because it makes me a better writer.

It started out with one painting. (Doesn't it always?) Once, when I was much younger than I am today, I came to the museum on a date with a young man who was, let's face it, something of a dud. No imagination, no spark. Hot? Yes. Smart? Not so much. Since he wasn't much for conversation, I focused my attention on the art. And then I saw her. 

Lucretia. Despite the fact that her story has been told and re-told by men (always men) - her resistance to Titus, her refusal to allow herself to be made a pawn, her suicide, not as acquiescence, but as defiance to the perversions of power - no matter who is telling  the story - Shakespeare, Chaucer, Heywood, St. Augustine, and Livy, to name just a few - the person of Lucretia remains: The woman who stood up for herself, who called rape what it was, and by her death, spawned a revolution, a government, a republic, and a new way of life.

Go Lucretia.

And this painting, when she is standing in front of her husband and father, when the knife is still wet with her blood and her tears shimmer at the rims of her eyes - I know that Rembrandt gets her. Go Rembrandt. 

So I kept coming back, always to see Lucretia. And her voice has whispered in my work - her defiance, her impatience with power, her willingness to hold wrongdoers accountable, even if her own death was a requirement to move the wheels of justice - has insisted its way into my pages again and again.

And it isn't just Lucretia. Given that I am not a visual artist, and never could be, and despite the fact that I am not a visual thinker at all, I am still thrilled by the visual arts. The hands that lovingly carved Saint Catherine of Alexandria, for example: 

have made their way into a story that I'm working on now. Notice the man she's standing on. Notice the serenity on her face as she presses him into the ground. I've always been a big fan of Saint Catherine (despite the fact that most folks tell me that she likely didn't exist. I don't care. In my heart she existed, and continues to exist, so really, isn't that enough?) and I absolutely love this statue. In my story, my heroine has a very specific reason to portray these two people in this - ahem - rather compromising position. More on that later. 

And the painting of this panel:  found its way into one of my stories a number of years ago. Currently, there's an exhibit that's on tour called "The Mourners", which were originally carved for the tomb of John the Fearless in Dijon, France.

 These statues are delicate, heartbreaking and utterly, utterly thrilling. Each one demonstrates his grief in his own particular fashion, and each one communicates that grief to the viewer through gesture, stance and expression. And it isn't the individual expressions of grief that is so stunning to me. Rather, it is the assertion that grief is a communal emotion. Grief is something we share, it is something we burden one another with, and by burdening, release one another as well. I stood in front of these statues, transfixed, hardly breathing, my mouth and eyes wide open and astonished.

I'll probably be back tomorrow.

I will probably steal . . . something. A shrug, a turn of the neck, a delicate unfurling of the hand, and sneak it into a story. More as that develops.

So here's my question for the lot of you: What are the museums or paintings or sculptures that call out to you? What pieces of art has fed you as a writer or a reader or just as a person? 

You know how sometimes you read a book and you're like HEY AUTHOR GET OUT OF MY HEAD? Yeah. That thing.

Ever been just minding your own business, enjoying a good book, when you realized the author has clearly been stalking you? Or perhaps even tapped your phones? Or implanted a microchip in your brain?

You're like, holy crap, how the frick did you know that about me? Because, there is no way that moment could have been captured without a direct link into your cerebellum.

Yeah. It's a little unnerving. But it's also kind of cool. It's one of the best things about books, really.

One of the books that does that for me is HIGH FIDELITY by Nick Hornby. It was one of the first books that I connected to as a young adult, even though it's not a YA book and it's totally about thirty-somethings. What does this say about me? Well, there's the fact that the narrator has a certain sense of self-importance, worked in a record store, and defined his life in terms of the pop culture around him. He made top-five lists (I used to make top-tens obssessively), mix tapes (check), and big mistakes in his relationships (oh yeah). And, okay, he was totally a dude, but he got me. Nick Hornby got me.

I still go back to that book as a home base. I look at passages and smile. I'm still angry at one of the characters. I'm still nostalgic for Championship Vinyl. And I watch the movie that was based on the book as if I'm sitting down with friends. It's just that cool.

What books feel like that to you? Is there anything that just boggled your mind when you read it, like the author might even be yourself in a parallel universe? I need to know. Because, apparently, I've been exactly like a 34-year-old, male record shop owner since I was about 19.

Don't Forget to Pay it Forward

I hope this post doesn’t make you think I’m a tremendous *&#^(#*. I’m not, I promise. Okay, most of the time I’m not a tremendous #*)&#%&#.

I’m lucky. Very, very lucky. I have a great agent, a great editor and publisher, and lots of 

great writing friends.

When I started querying my first book, I didn’t quite know what I was doing. I wrote a query letter that is absolutely terrible and didn’t get much attention from agents, even though people had read and enjoyed my book.

So I started studying. I went to like a billion agents’ websites and learned what to do and what not to do. I bought Guide to Literary Agents and devoured the entire book.

I basically got a PhD in query writing.

Then I rewrote my letter and started talking to a couple published authors I know through friends. These are not small authors by any means. One is huge in the non-fiction world, and the other is truly a god of steampunk and sci-fi.

They both agreed to read my letter and give me feedback.

Both authors RIPPED my query apart. I felt lower than plankton. For about five minutes. Then I re-read their critiques, decided what advice I agreed with, and decided what changes to make.

But first – I THANKED both authors for their time. Profusely thanked them.

After I got an agent, I started agreeing to look at query letters and sample pages, because I wanted to pay it forward. I wanted to give back, because other people had helped me.

I wouldn’t be where I was today without the help of friends, critique partners, beta readers, etc.

I really don’t mind critiquing work. I love helping people out. But if I spend an hour or two (or more) reading people’s work and critiquing it (I give honest, constructive advice), it would be great to get a thank you. Or even a response.

So basically all I’m saying is, even if you don’t agree with something someone says about your work, please make the time to thank them for theirs.

We all start somewhere.

On Being Uppity

So here's a weird thing about Kelly Barnhill: little old men totally dig me.  I can't explain it, but I know it's true. I've always been very, very popular with old dudes. I think maybe I remind them of their favorite granddaughters, or the girl they wanted to marry. I've often been told that I'm "perfect daughter-in-law material" (though, strangely, not by my own father-in-law, who I'm pretty sure feels otherwise, but never mind).

Now, for the past few years, I've been a teaching artist with a local arts organization that sends musicians, visual artists and writers into the schools for week-long intensive residencies. It's a pretty cool job and I enjoy doing it. When they send me to the tiny towns in outstate Minnesota, I make it my habit to have dinner each night in the local bar, where I'll sit, munch on french fries, talk to locals and write in my notebooks. Invariably, I'll end up with about a half a dozen or so old dudes at my table, their collective breath laced with whiskey and cigarettes and cheap beer, swapping story after story after story.

And they all say the same things to me (always accompanied by the classic Minnesotan "arencha", one of my favorite idioms):

"Yer a sassy one, arencha?" they say.
"Yer a spunky one, arencha?" they confide.
"Oh, yer a pistol, arencha?" they whisper with a knowing smile.

"Um," says I. "I guess so."

Once, a guy said to me, "I've never much cared for uppity girls, even when I was a young thing. But you're all right."

And I said, "Uppity?"

And then I thought about it for a while, and I decided that "uppity" was the best compliment I've ever gotten. I think that a certain amount of uppityness is required for the writing life (probably all sorts of other kinds of life as well - politics, law, corporate espionage, and what have you. But writing is what I know.). We need to be uppity.

It is an uppity notion for me to assert that the story in my head is one worth telling. It is an uppity notion for me to want you to read it. It is an uppity notion for me to want to put my book in the hands of readers, on the shelves of libraries, on the tables of bookstores, in the musings of blog posts and reviewer columns. Writing books is uppity, so I'll embrace it, and I won't apologize.

So, here's my question for the rest of you: After spending our formative years being praised for adhering to specific norms and admonished when we abandoned them, what sorts of personal negatives turned into positives for the rest of y'all? At what point did the world's admonishments become points of your own personal pride?

I'm sure there's a few.

Now don't even let me get started on sassy.

Anna and the French Kiss: yes, you need to read it!

There's another YA romance around every corner. And whether you love or loathe the genre, sometimes it feels like it needs a little kick start. Like you've read that story a few times and want something new.

Let me be the first to tell you that ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS is not just another anything. It's a romance, and it's an adventure, and it's a comedy, and it's a coming-of-age story. It makes me want to spend all day at a cafe in Paris. It makes me want to go back in time and go to boarding school. It makes me want to go on silly romps with my friends and take my boyfriend to arthouse theatres. It is a story in which you feel like you know everyone, and when you close the last pages, they're a part of you.

It's the story of Anna, sent by her rich father who writes melodramatic cancer romance novels to a French boarding school. She soon finds herself in a tight group of friends including the charming St. Clair, an American boy who grew up in Britain but has a French dad. And Anna has never met anyone like him. Not even the cute boy she is almost sort of maybe dating from the theatre where she works back home. As she and St. Clair -- who is dating a college freshman -- get closer and closer, Anna has to push back her growing feelings for him. And, ultimately, this school year abroad in France could either be the best year of her life, or lead her to self-destruct. Either way, it will change her forever.

If you like John Green, Maureen Johnson, or Simone Elkeles, you'll love Stephanie Perkins. Pick up ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS right now.

Shameless Self Promotion for January

Have a book releasig this month?  Here's your chance to tell us all about it!

Read an awesome book that we must read NOW?  Let us know!

Leave your thoughts in the comments.

The ALA Youth Media Awards and You

So today many of us were up early watching the live webcast or following closely on Facebook and Twitter as the American Library Association announced its award winners.

Boy was I off. I managed to predict one Alex award winner (THE REAPERS ARE THE ANGELS by Alden Bell) and a Coretta Scott King Author honor (YUMMY by G. Neri) in my predictions post. Librarians are always surprising me.

I'm psyched about the Printz honor for PLEASE IGNORE VERA DIETZ (Knopf, 2010) by A.S. King -- it was already going to be my next read, and now I'm even more excited to curl up with it. I've read the first page, and that alone is worthy of acclaim.

After the awards were announced, I decided I could buy a book. One book from the list. And I picked NOTHING by Janne Teller (Atheneum, 2010), which not only garnered a Printz Honor but a Batchelder Honor for excellence in translation in children's literature. It sounds freaking awesome and I love reading books that were translated into English -- there's something really different and interesting about that experience, both culturally and literarily.

Admittedly, I'm already thinking of breaking my rule and buying THE FREAK OBSERVER by Blythe Woolston (Carolrhoda LAB, 2010), which won the William C. Morris Award, which is given to a debut novel. How cool, that it went to an author with a small press, too! I'm on the lookout for this title, for sure.

So what did you think of this year's winners? Any surprises? Are you eager to read/buy any of the titles? I'm especially wondering if teens are affected by awards like this, or if they ignore the shiny stickers and the press and just buy what they like. Tell me!

Miranda's Hierarchy of Publishing

I'll admit it. I have a real hard-on for sociology. Forgive me for this dorky post. :)

Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs
(Click on image to enlarge)

I definitely have gone through Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs in my lifetime. You know, in college I was mostly concerned with finding my next meal, e.g. Ramen and Easy Mac. I got next to no sleep, because I was working ALL the time. And on top of that, all I could think about were boys. (See lowest rung of Maslow's Hierarchy above.)

As I got older, I started moving up the pyramid, and I can definitely say I'm at the "Self-Actualization" stage of my life, meaning, I spend a lot of time contemplating my place in the universe and the evolution of humankind (when will we have biochips in our heads?!) and my carbon footprint and whatnot.

The highest level of the pyramid = You've run a marathon, and now you're going to run another one to beat your previous time. To grow as a runner.

So I was looking at Maslow's Hierarchy and got to thinking about my publishing journey. If I were to apply Maslow's Hierarchy to my publishing life, I'd say I'm still on the middle rung. I have a fancy book deal and I love my agent and editor, and I have lots of fabulous authorly friends. Yay for life!

Miranda's Hierarchy of Publishing
(click on picture to enlarge)

I'm hoping to move up to the fourth rung. So now of course I'm thinking, "HOLY SHIT what if Kirkus reads and hates my book? What will I do?!?"

I'll write harder. Keep moving up the rungs of the hierarchy.

You know the best part about the publishing journey? Even if I by some one in a million chance I were to get on Oprah or win the NBA, my writing can always grow. I will always have the opportunity to become a better writer.

Pretty cool, eh?

Where are you at on Miranda's Hierarchy of Publishing?

Synchro-what? or What I Read for the Past Few Months

synchronicities: 1. the quality or fact of being synchronous



2. the coincidental occurrence of events and especially psychic events (as similar thoughts in widely separated persons or a mental image of an unexpected event before it happens) that seem related but are not explained by conventional mechanisms of causality —used especially in the psychology of C. G. Jung



--Merriam-Webster Online


So, for the past few months I've curiously silent (very unlike me) whilst I was reading my way through 182 of the finest Young Adult fiction readers cared to nominate.  That part of my life is now, sadly, over.  But, some loose ends remain!

This list of similarities and coincidences that follows was taken from the 2010 Cybils YA Fiction nominations and was compiled by the 2010 Cybils YA Fiction Panel. It is no way to be considered completely exhaustive, as we are certain nominated books may have been missed. This list was originated out of amusement as the seven panelists as we read our way through the 182 titles. If you know of a nominated title that should be included in one of the synchronicities below, please feel free to submit it in the comments! To get the entire list, you’ll have to visit all seven of the panelist’s blogs.
 
42.  Parents Called by First Name: Confessions of the Sullivan Sisters, Nothing Like You


43.  Pepperspray: The River; Tension of Opposites


44.  Photography is DEEP and MEANINGFUL: Faithful; Jumpstart the World; Hellie Jondoe; Hold Still, Split


45.  Pissing Outdoors: City of Cannibals; Compromised; Folly, Jump; Stringz; When I was Joe


46.  Poetry as a coping mechanism: Sorta Like a Rockstar, The Sky is Everywhere, Shakespeare Makes the Playoffs

47.  Preacher’s Kids: Saving Maddie, The Less-Dead


48.  Pregnancies: Dark days of Hamburger Halpin; Every Little Thing in the World; Folly; Stranded; Tell Me a Secret; Three Rivers Rising


49.  Quoted Keats: The Life of Glass, The Secret to Lying


50.  Rainbow Positive: f2m; Jumpstart the World; Love Drugged; A Love Story to My Dead Best Friend; Hold Still; The Less-Dead (ok, ultimately positive); Rhythm and Blues; Will; Will Grayson, Will Grayson


51.  Red Hot Chili Peppers: A Little Wanting Song; Friend is Not a Verb

Wanna read the rest? Visit these blogs:

http://interactivereader.blogspot.com/
http://cherylynne.blogspot.com/
http://stackedbooks.blogspot.com/
http://3tnar.blogspot.com/
http://www.apatchworkofbooks.blogspot.com/
http://melissawiley.com/blog/

Apparently, I Was A Very Bad Girl This Year

Every year my friends and family ask me what I want for Christmas. Every year I say the same thing: good books; wool socks. Not necessarily in that order.

This year, I got some good stuff - tea from England, oranges from Florida, money from my mom - but none of it was what I asked  for.

"Wool socks are so boring," people said.

"Nobody wants to give books to a writer," a relative told me. "It would be like we were setting up unreasonably high bar for your book." And then, I swear to god, he patted me on the head. Which, for those of you watching at home, is how Midwesterners participate in the soft tyranny of low expectations. (Also, I would like to say yet another prayer of thanksgiving that none of my relatives know how to work the internet.)

So I really wanted to write a post-holidays post on the really cool books that I received this year, but instead, I'm gonna talk about the books that I'm excited about - the books I can't wait to read.

1. I don't know if any of you have been reading the first two installments of the Prophesy of the Sisters, but book 3 comes out this summer:

 And holy smokes, does that cover look pretty. I'll fully admit that I judge a book by its cover - at least at first. Also, by its font, the texture of its pages, its smell. All love starts with lust. Or at least it does with me. But these books are worth that first flush of desire. They're sly. Meaty. Heartbreaking. And I can't WAIT for the next installment.

2. Deathless, by Cat Valente




I've loved that woman's prose for years, but this? Russian folklore? Revolution? Mythology? Love, death and everything in between. Yup, I'm there. With bells on.



3. Native Star, by M.K. Hobson

Ah, steampunk meets the wild, wild west. Mine-dwelling zombies, a down-on-her-luck witch, and a fancy, Eastern warlock with something to hide. Snake oil salesmen, the expansion of the railroad, fast-talking cowboys, and a healthy dose of magic. I absolutely cannot WAIT to read this book, and I'm staring at the mailbox RIGHT NOW, waiting for Amazon to hurry up and bring it to me.

4. Mechanique: A Novel of the Circus Tresault


I mean, come on. Look at that cover! It's so pretty, I want to take it places and buy it things. But, even more, inside the covers is Valentine's sly, deft, luminous prose. (Full disclosure: I've already read this book, but it was a pdf. I want the real deal, baby. No internet-dating for this book lover!)

Now I realize that only one of those books is specifically YA, but one of the things that I love about the YA reader is that they refuse to balkanize themselves. They read across genre, across age groups, across culture and time and modes of reality. I'd really like to see a day in which books are no longer shelved according to type. The more we try to separate books, the more limited the conversation becomes. Books need to talk to one another. They need to influence one another. And they need to do this broadly - not only on the shelves and not only in classes or review pages, but in the brains of their readers.

So, here's my question: What books are you  itching to read? What books do you REALLY FEEL that you should have gotten....but didn't?

Happy New Year! Let's talk about our loot!

Hi everyone! Long time, no see. Well, you know. Blog-wise.

Before I go off and give the rest of the 5-ers a kick in the butt (I've been looking at that angry velociraptor on the top of this page for far too long. Is it going to eat me or what?) I thought I'd check in with everyone. And, before you get too groan-y and moan-y, fear not. I'm not going to talk about New Year's Resolutions. I don't know about the rest of the YA-5, but, personally, I feel that making an effort toward awesomeness daily is way better than declaring a major change in January that you'll forget about by the 31st.

No, today I want to talk about awesome presents we got over the holidays. Specifically, BOOK-SHAPED PRESENTS. Or, you know, books.

Here's my loot list:

PERSONAL DEMONS (Tor Teen, 2010) by Lisa Desrochers
I've been aching to read this for a while and I know I read a review somewhere -- possibly by someone here. Justina, was it you? -- that said that the protagonist was just so relateable. So real. And that's one thing I have a hard time with in some paranormals -- not that I don't read a jillion paranormals, I just often end up feeling like the MC was a little too...unreal. So I'm psyched for this one. I got it from my grandparents on my dad's side.

ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS (Dutton Juvenile, 2010) by Stephanie Perkins
My brother brought me to an indie bookstore and told me to pick something out two days before Christmas. This is what I picked. And I started reading it on the plane back from Maine to Texas. It's amazing. I have about 100 pages to go, but, still, I can't imagine this book starting to suck anytime soon. I mean, even if there are velociraptors parachuting in from outer space, I think it will still be one of my favorite reads of the year. Romance, and real people, and funny anecdotes and...well...I'm sure you've heard the buzz. Let me tell you this: all the buzz is true.

A PASSION FOR BAKING (Oxmoor House, 2001) by Marcy Goldman
Okay, slightly less interesting for those of you who love YA. Or, like, novels. And stories. But I'm a huge baking fiend and my grandmother on my mom's side got this for me and it is big and heavy and I can't wait to try out some of the recipes. Mmmmmmmm.

STRAY (Mira, 2007) by Rachel Vincent
Also from my brother. Inadvertently He got me a gift card to the same indie so I had to spend it before I left Maine. (Who am I kidding, gift cards to bookstores burn holes in my pocket faster than hot coals.) I got a few embarrassing pop albums and had just enough leftover for a used paperback. I've been intrigued by Rachel's SHIFTERS series ever since I read some of her SOUL SCREAMERS books, so for $2.95 the price was right. It's an adult novel, and I hear it's super action-packed and sexy. Looking forward to reading this on a rainy day in the near future.

So what books did y'all pick up over the holidays? Have you read any of the ones I got? Discuss in the comments, I want to know!

TV: It's just another way to tell a story, right?

Oh my goodness. How many times in my life have I heard someone tell young people (or me!) to "turn off the TV and open a book?" Or, you know, something similar?

How many times have you heard that television rots your brain? And then wanted to charge at the person making this claim like a velociraptor at a cocky paleontologist?

Oh, don't get me wrong. I love books. I mean, well, duh, I write books! I have a house full of books! Books are sort of my life. But you know what else I love?

TV.

I love TV on DVD. I love that I can use my DVR to record shows that are on at the same time. I love that there are funny shows and serious shows and documentary shows and sci fi shows. I love that there are all these stories that I can watch.

So why does TV get a bad rap? Why do so many of us think of it as a "low" art form, or as a hobby for the feeble-minded? Like, okay, The Jersey Shore exists. I'll admit it. But so does The X Files. So does House. So does Scrubs.

And, yeah, books might be easy to pin as a high art, because you have to read them. But, come on, not to lay the smack down on anyone, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that GOSSIP GIRL isn't particularly literary. (And I'm putting this out there because I'm like 99.9% sure that creator Cecily von Ziegesar would agree with me. I hope.) Does this fact stop jillions of readers from being entertained by the books? No.

Books are a form of entertainment, too. Sure, sometimes books are going to be what I like to call "meat and potatoes" books. SPEAK by Laurie Halse Anderson, John Green's LOOKING FOR ALASKA -- you know, award-winny types. Entertaining and also enriching. Then there are what I like to call "candy bar books" -- the books we read for funsies and sometimes consider guilty pleasures. Books without many SAT words but with superfluous kissing scenes or maybe epic gun fights. Do these books change your world? Probably not. And that's cool.

So what makes books better than TV? What makes them sacred? Like, okay, there are lots of reasons that books are different, ways that without seeing the pictures on your screen you might have to use your imagination more while you're reading. But have you ever watched an episode of your favorite show and felt just so inspired? Just wowed? The same way you feel after you finish a good book?

TV and books are different ways to tell a story. But when it comes down to it, a story is a story. Why can't we love both, treat them equally, and call it a day? Why do we think certain things can go on TV but "don't belong" in books? Why are books on a pedestal, guys? I want to know.

Walking on Eggshells in Publishing. ALL the Time.

I’ll admit it. I speak my mind. Almost ALL of the time.

I tell bosses what I think. I’m straight-up with my husband. We fight constantly. (It’s a healthy thing in marriage – trust me. J )

I’ve disagreed with a Deputy Secretary of State. To her face.

And I lived to tell the tale. People at work respect me for my opinions.

But most of the time, I’m scared to death to talk about how I really feel about publishing and books on the market.

A lot of book bloggers and reviewers have admitted that they won’t post negative reviews of books.

Why? They don’t want to ruin their reputation.

This year, a book came out that I didn’t really like, but everyone else adored it.

Of course, I didn’t say anything about the book until I was at the American Library Association Conference, where two trusted friends and I talked about how we didn’t think the book was all that much to call home about. 

But we whispered about it. And then we swore we’d never say anything in public. Several months later, I saw one book blogger write about how she didn’t understand what the big deal was about the book.

It was the first time I’d seen this book publicly questioned.

Did I agree with her and say so in the comments section of her blog? Hell no. I didn’t want anyone to know my thoughts on the book. What if I said something about the book and then it damaged my relationship with the author? The publisher? The readers who adore the book?

As an author who’s about to have her debut novel published, I can’t risk that.

Recently, my friend found out that her erotica book had been flagged by Amazon as being not appropriate for kids or something, so readers couldn’t find it using a standard search. Readers had to have a link to find it.

A bunch of worse erotica/porno books are out there, and they’re searchable on Amazon. That’s not fair. 

My friend’s book did not deserve this, so she’s going to battle to get it on the search bar.

I’m all for this, of course. I said, “Where do I light my torch and sharpen my pitchfork?”

But other people told her, “Don’t worry about it! Don’t say anything. Don’t rant about Amazon!”

My first thought was, “Well why the hell not? She wants to sell books. She should be fighting this, not ignoring it.”

Going further, sometimes famous authors/editors/agents act a bit mean online. I’ll admit I’ve stopped following a few of these people after watching them humiliate wannabe writers online. Okay, so maybe the author doesn’t know all the “rules” of querying, but do you have to call them out personally in front of your thousands of followers?

I know someone who deleted their Twitter account after being humiliated by some agents.

And instead of authors standing up and saying, “Whoa. Was that really called for?” everyone either 1) Ignores it, or 2) Laughs along with the agent.

Me? I ignored it. And that makes me ashamed. But I can’t really risk it, you know?

And then a month ago, a Twitter friend, who is represented by a great agent at a different agency from mine, and I were chatting about how now that we have agents, we rarely get good honest critiques of our work. Before I got an agent, readers and friends and critique partners ripped my work to SHREDS.

Now, it’s either that 1) People think everything’s perfect because we have agents, or 2) They are scared to question us because we have agents, and they don’t want to upset us and hurt our relationships.

I think this is total bullshit. If I critique a book/pages by someone, I tell them the God’s honest truth about how I feel, because if I lie and coddle them, what’s going to happen when they finally send the book to an agent and editor, and the agent/editor comes back and says exactly what I said? (This has happened before.) You’d be pissed, right?

You can take my advice or leave it, I don’t care, but I feel like I owe you an honest opinion.

I feel like people owe me an honest opinion.

Sure, I might hate you for five minutes, but then I’ll probably learn from whatever you said. And then I’ll thank you.

If everyone is too scared to say what they think, how will we ever weed out the good from the bad?

I feel like society is already on information overload, information coming from all different sources and angles, and it completely confuses people and makes it harder to think.

Is publishing like the Stalin era? We’re so afraid to say anything wrong because we’ll be sent to the PUBLISHING GULAG?!

What say you guys?

Have I gone too far?

Does everyone hate me now? J

Happy Friday!