13 Reasons Why New Orleans Is Not OK

The horror continues down in NOLA, folks. As an eye-opener, I give you an inspired list from Poppy Z. Brite's LiveJournal:

Occasionally I'm asked by friends Not From Here, "New Orleans is better now, right? You had Mardi Gras!" or "Are you doing OK?" or some variation. Sometimes, particularly if they're contemplating a visit, I even try to reassure them: it's very possible to have a good, safe time here; the French Quarter is fine; lots of restaurants and bars are open. In truth, though, New Orleans and most of its inhabitants are very much Not OK. I present to you a baker's dozen facts about life in the city seven months after the storm. Some are large, some small. I think many of them will surprise you.

1. Most of the city is still officially uninhabitable. We and most other current New Orleanians live in what is sometimes known as The Sliver By The River, a section between the Mississippi River and St. Charles Avenue that didn't flood, as well as in the French Quarter and part of the Faubourg Marigny. In the "uninhabitable sections," there are hundreds of people living clandestinely in their homes with no lights, power, or (in many cases) drinkable water. They cannot afford generators or the gasoline it takes to run them, or if they have generators, they can only run them for part of the day. They cook on camp stoves and light their homes with candles or oil lamps at night.

2. There is a minimal police presence, and most of it is concentrated in the Sliver. Homes in other parts of the city are still being looted, vandalized, and burned.

3. Many parts of the city have had no trash pickup -- either FEMA or municipal -- for weeks. Things improved for a while, but now there are nearly as many piles of debris and stinking garbage as there were right after the storm.

4. There are no street lights in many of the "uninhabited" sections, which makes for very dark nights for their residents.

5. Many of the stoplights, including some at large, busy intersections, still don't work. They have become four-way stops (with small, hard-to-see stop signs propped up near the ground) and there are countless wrecks.

6. There is hardly any medical care in the city. As far as I know, only two hospitals and an emergency facility in the convention center are currently operating. Emergency room patients, even those having serious symptoms like chest pains, routinely wait eight hours or more to be seen by a doctor. We have, I believe, 600 hospital beds in a city whose population is approaching (and may have surpassed) 250,000.

7. Most grocery stores, many drugstores, and countless other important retail establishments are only open until 5, 6, or at best 8:00 PM because of the lack of staffing. This is only an inconvenience for me, but it's crippling for people who work "normal" hours.

8. The city's recycling program has been suspended indefinitely. We talk about restoring the wetlands that could buffer us from another storm surge, but every day we throw away tons of recyclables that will end up in the landfills that help poison our wetlands.

9. Cadaver dogs and youth volunteers gutting houses are still finding bodies in the Lower Ninth Ward. Of course these corpses are just skeletons by now -- the other day they found a six-year-old girl with an older person, possibly a grandmother, located near her -- and they may never be identified. The bodies are hidden under debris piles and collapsed houses. This is in the same section of town that some of the politicians are aching to bulldoze.

10. Thousands of people who lived in public housing were forcibly removed from their homes. It is now being suggested by much of the current power structure, including our very liberal Councilman at Large Oliver Thomas, that they not be allowed back into these homes unless they can prove they had jobs before the storm or are willing to sign up for job training. (Many of you may agree with this, and I did too, sort of, until I really thought about it. Hadn't they already qualified for the housing? What about the ones who had jobs that don't exist anymore? How can they find jobs in New Orleans if they don't live here?)

11. There are still flooded, wrecked, and abandoned cars all over the streets, parked in the neutral grounds, and in many cases partly submerged in the canals out East. Now that it's campaign time, Mayor Nagin is trying to come up with a solution for this, but he thinks maybe we should wait for FEMA to do it (!!!!!) and he claims the best removal offer he's gotten so far was "written on the back of a napkin."

12. Many of the FEMA trailers -- you know, the ones costing taxpayers $70,000 each -- have been delivered to homeless New Orleanians but cannot be lived in because the city doesn't have enough people to come out and do electrical inspections, and the trailers need a separate hookup instead of being hooked into the house's power supply, and a dozen other damn fool things. While these trailers sit empty, there is an easily constructed, far more attractive structure called a "Katrina cottage" that could easily be built all over south Louisiana. It costs about $25,000 less than the flimsy, uncomfortable trailers. FEMA refuses to use it because they're not allowed to provide permanent housing.

13. A large percentage -- I've heard figures ranging from 60 to 75% -- of current New Orleanians are on some form of antidepressant or anti-anxiety drug. The lines at the pharmacy windows have become a running joke. When a visiting "expert" gave a Power Point presentation on post-traumatic stress disorder recently, the entire audience dissolved into hysterical laughter.

Ow! Pinch me again!

Today is a happy, fantastic, wonderful day. I just received my contracts in the mail!!! And I don't understand a word. But! Luckily I have an AMAZING agent who will explain everything to me.
In other news, I'm having a fabulous time in Wonderland, and I'm pretty sure the entire thing will be finished and ready for my readers by Labor Day (giving myself some extra time to do the changes I'm CONTRACTED to do on Eighth Grade Bites. You know...because my CONTRACT says so...in the CONTRACT.) Other than that, I'm knee-deep in celebration and bruised from pinching myself so hard.

I still can't believe I'm being published!

5 Reasons Why I Worship Poppy Z. Brite (in no particular order)

1. Poppy has a deep, profound loyalty to my favorite city in the world (New Orleans, of course) and will stand up for it without a moment's hesitation.

2. Poppy is strong-willed, opinionated, has excellent taste in food, and by her LiveJournal entries, seems like she'd be an absolute blast to hang out with.

3. Poppy is an amazing writer. I fell in love with her work the first time I read Lost Souls and that romance has continued throughout her amazing Liquor series. She's got talent...and she takes chances. Can't help but admire that.

4. Poppy has great hair. I know...I'm normally not such a superficial brat, but let's face it, Poppy has the cutest hair on the planet.

5. Poppy is gracious and sweet, and she was kind enough to send me a postcard congratulating me on my book sale, even though she won't be blurbing Eighth Grade Bites. I totally understand that vampires are in her past, so no hurt feelings at all. Quite the contrary, I GOT A POSTCARD FROM POPPY Z. BRITE!!! Okay, deep breaths, deep breaths...And she was nice enough to send the postcard. She could've totally ignored me--because I'm a HUGE dope and forgot to include an SASE when I wrote and asked her for a blurb. So thank you, thank you, thank you, Poppy. I bow humbly to your greatness. :)

Without further ado, my new favorite thing (address removed to protect the, er, me--I left Poppy's address, as it's available online):

It's All Shiny and New!

I'm the proud new owner of a drool-worthy blurb for EIGHTH GRADE BITES! Christopher Moore (author of Bloodsucking Fiends and several other incredible books) was sweet enough to read Vlad's tale while on tour for A Dirty Job and had this to say:

"Eighth Grade Bites is a terrific vampire tale told with a sharp, middle-school grin. It definitely does not bite!"

He rules. And I bow before his greatness.

Cell

Last night I finished reading Cell by Stephen King. It was wonderful after a few initial speedbumps. It looks like Mr. King is definitely asserting himself once again as the master of horror. It reads much like your typical zombie movie until about half-way in. And I cried! Such great characters, with such...realness. Jordan reminded me very much of my own son. That book gets my seal of approval, for sure.

Let's see, what else do I need to tell you minions? Oh! My fabulous agent emailed last night to tell me that my contracts are on the way! Wooohooo! I'm totally geeked. No more panicky worry bombs that make me wonder whether Dutton will come to their senses. No more wondering when I'll see my deal on paper. It's real.

It still doesn't feel like it...but it's real.

Today I'll be diving back into Wonderland and after that, I'll be reading Sexy by Joyce Carol Oates. That is, if I can manage to pull my face away from the window and forget about the passing Fed Ex truck...

The Horrors of Wonderland

So this book, The View from the Wonderland Asylum, is scary. I don't mean cutesy, awww-look-at-the-children's-author-writing-about-ghosts scary. I mean...holy crap, can-this-be-this-scary-and-still-remain-a-YA-book? scary. The answer is yes. I fully intend to scare the crap out of kids. And I'm doing it by using that old adage, write what you know.

I know what scares me. The unseen. Abandoned crazy houses. The creepy giggle of a little girl. Old wheelchairs. As I once told my mother (I believe I was seven), "I'm not afraid of the dark...it's what's in the dark that scares me." So with this book, I'm putting a lot of things in the dark. It's scary. But it's good.

Even as a child, I was equally freaked out by/drawn to the story of Alice. So it was only a matter of time before I became engulfed in the idea that I'm currently working on. The book is about a boy named Dillon who stumbles into Wonderland via an ages-old mirror. But Wonderland isn't exactly the Disney-inspired version anymore. It's dark. It's burnt. It's gruesome. Some of the book is a reinvention of what Lewis Carroll had created. But most of it is all Heather. His tale will fit so well with mine--and mine just puts a different take on his.

I really don't want to go into much detail until I finish it...but I'm thoroughly enjoying writing Dillon's tale. And I'm driven on by the notion that through developing a book of my own fears (well, I left out the clowns), I may create a book that will truly terrify kids. And that's a good thing--I loved being scared by books as a child. Because in the end, you can close the book and go back to your safe, cozy life.

One without the Jabberwocky.

Attack of the 50 Foot Blurb!

I've received a few emails asking how to go about acquiring blurbs. Now, I'm certainly no blurb goddess. (I have three {three fabulous blurbs from three amazing authors}, with a handful of other incredible people reading Eighth Grade Bites.) But the common theme in those emails is that people seem lost as to how to acquire blurbs. The answer, minions, is more simple than you might think: You ask.

You choose authors that you WORSHIP, you tell them why you ADORE them, tell them a bit about your book and you ask if they would mind giving it a read...and, if they like it enough, could they say a few kind words about it? That's it. No industry inside information. No tricks. No strings. No smoke. No mirrors. Just polite, honest words, and a question.

And please, try to be incredibly understanding if they say no. Writers are extremely busy people with deadlines that they work hard not to miss. And I can only imagine how many people ask for blurbs--it's impossible to say yes to everyone.

It's manners, people: say please, say thank you, don't whine, be respectful, and keep a positive attitude.

When I'm Good, I'm Very Good. But When I'm Bad, I'm Better.

The title of this post is a quote from Mae West. But it illustrates my point. I love writing the good guys, but I LOVE writing the bad guys. As Brion James once said, "The bad guys are the best parts."

What makes a good bad guy? Well, that question is about as subjective as they come. For me, a really excellent baddie has to be confident, determined, and just plain evil. He or she has to have a sharp wit and a sharper tongue. It doesn't hurt if you don't see him or her coming, either. I like a good scare. I also like being misled in a story.

I was once given the advice that you must know why your villain is the way he or she is. Did he or she have a bad childhood, etc, etc.? It was horrible advice. Some people are just evil the moment air enters their lungs. Not everything needs to be analyzed--least of all, a really excellent baddie. I mean, come on, if we'd found out that Hannibal Lechter only developed a taste for flesh because his mommy fed him too many beets as a child, wouldn't it take away from the scary reality (or would that be fictionality?) of Hannibal? Keep the psychobabble and therapy, I want my villains evil to the core with reasons of their own. I'll delve into his or her motives, for sure. But the only thing I need to know about him or her is what I'm being told at the moment.

But that's me.

DropCash

Kim over at YA Books Central needs your help, minions. So give and give big.

From the YA Books Central blog:

One of my goals this year is to cover all the hosting costs of the site. Consequently, I have started up a DropCash campaign to raise $500 dollars towards these costs ($500 actually covers just the hosting -- mailing costs are much more and separate, but I'm hoping advertising and book sales will cover that this year). I've added a DropCash campaign tracker to the blog (see the sidebar), but you can also donate by clicking below. **** YABC DropCash Campaign **** While a donation is not required, it would certainly be appreciated. Any amount (even $1) is greatly appreciated. With your help, YABC can keep going strong! And please, spread the word about the site. Tell your friends -- teachers -- librarians -- authors. I've got lots of big plans for the site this year and I welcome all (and I do mean ALL) of your suggestions. Feel free to leave them in the blog or email me directly at kim@yabookscentral.com

Something To Sink Your Fangs Into

Sorry for the late entry, minions. It was a long, involved, exhausting day. But there's good news afoot!

First off, Wonderland is moving along swimmingly. Dillon and I have found a kinship and I'm beginning to really enjoy his company. Plus, it was INCREDIBLE to be writing again. Breaks, though they are much-needed, are frustrating and difficult.

My fabulous agent gave me a call (he's so amazingly good to me) and let me know that my contracts should be ready in a few days and (even better) there are like six foreign publishers interested in Eighth Grade Bites! No offers yet and no details for you minions, but life is good and Vlad is quite happy. I'm always in a great mood after I talk to my agent. He watches out for me and for my career, and in this big, bad world where so few people watch out for anybody...it's a nice feeling.

Today's entry is rather scatterbrained--my apologies. I need to get back to Wonderland.

Removing the Stone of Madness from My Skull

Creepy title, right? I thought so. It's based on this surgical procedure they used in the Middle Ages in order to cure mental illness. A while back, I read a fantastic article about mental illness in the Middle Ages and the stone thing has stuck with me ever since. There's a story there somewhere, but it needs to brew for a while.

Anyhoo, back to me and the rocks in my head.

Tomorrow, my dear, sweet, loyal minions, is going to be an excellent day. After two weeks of not writing, I'm going to dive into Wonderland head first and see where the white rabbit leads me. I'm really excited about it--not just because I can write again, but because I reached a personal goal...and that's always a good feeling. Goals are important.

So is Diet Pepsi. It's time to stock up. Why, you ask? Because, my minions, the formula for writing is this: Diet Pepsi + Happy Bunny jammie pants = brilliance.

Even My Brain Is Out To Get Me

You know it's bad when a period of not writing gives you nightmares. Last night, for the eighth night in a row, I had this horrible nightmare where I was running through these filthy corridors, past branches that had grown in through the walls. The corridors became more narrow as I ran and more littered with debris, but I couldn't stop--something awful was behind me and it was getting closer. The dream is exactly the same, night after night. I think my imagination is getting bored, waiting for me to do something with it.

Yesterday, my friend Toni posted something really funny that we were talking about on Backspace (scroll down a bit to her March 21st entry). We have entirely too much fun on there. It's a wonder so many of us are getting published with all that procrastination going on. But it's one talented group, minions. And I'm honored to be counted among them.

I can feel Vlad twitching around back there, gearing up for the 25th. I still haven't told him I'll be spending time with Dillon in Wonderland. (Shh!) It'll be good to write again, but to be honest, I'm nervous. The last time Dillon and I sat down to talk, I didn't like him...and as it is, I may be bringing an axe to our meeting if I don't fall head over heels for him right away. Chop chop chop, no more Dillon. (Double shh!) But it's important that I move forward, out of my cushy Vlad comfort zone. After all, there are five books in Vlad's series...that's hardly forever. I need to stretch myself beyond him.

And I need to stock up on Diet Pepsi. Because once the 25th comes, my brain, my fingers, and my focus are all headed for Wonderland.

Writing Junkie

It's cold this morning. Slushy, cold, snowy, crappy and blah. And like some kind of writing junkie, I'm sitting in front of my computer, staring at my writing folder and willing myself not to open it. Just a few more days. Then I'll get my fix, man.

It's hard not to write, minions.

Strike that, it's mind-blowing impossible not to write. But I'm doing just that. You'd think that writing in my blog would make it easier, but it doesn't. And last night, I had a revelation about a story I'd been working on last year. It was damn hard not to run screaming to that Word file and dive in head first.

Today I'll be continuing to reread American Gods by Neil Gaiman. It's excellent. Creepy and weird and often makes me wonder if I stumbled into Wonderland with Dillon, but I love it.

72 hours and I can write.

Oh The Places You'll Go...

I've been reading quite a bit this week, minions. I wish I could read all the time, but I can't...not when I'm writing. (Reading puts my head in a different place than I need to be when I'm writing.) Some of the books have been good, some not so good. One was terrible, and another was a strange trip down memory lane, through a book I haven't read since I was in the sixth grade. It begged the question: didn't I read any YA as a preteen?

So I thought about it for a while, came up with a few titles, but no...most of what I'd read (and loved) was far more grown-up than I expected. I had a deep love of horror, even then. So my tastes tended toward the creepy, the bloody, the unexplained. It was early on in sixth grade that I first read Stephen King's Carrie. I remember closing that book and thinking, "That's what I want to do."

No, no, minions--I didn't intend to use my powers to destroy prom (that would come much later). I knew then that I wanted to be a writer. Which is silly, really, because I knew it before then. I'd always written, had always lost myself in this author's world or that...so I'm not sure why it took Mr. King to wedge that desire firmly in my mind. And how odd is it that now, when I go back and read Carrie, I really don't care for it. Carrie White is annoying, Sue Snell isn't trustworthy and frankly, I'm glad that certain people in the story die. But it was kindling for that spark of the need to write. And for that, I'm grateful.

But the reading will continue this week, as I'm still a few days away from allowing myself to write. Most of the mental cobwebs are cleared out now and I'm getting fidgety and anxious to dive back in. I love that feeling, that I-can't-wait-to-begin wave that washes over the tips of my toes and threatens to drag me into the tide. And it's coming...soon.

Ain't Too Proud To Beg

I'm a pathetic, whiny, no-friends-having MySpace user now. So please, minions, out of the good of your little, black, soulless hearts...please be my friend.

You Only Wish It Was Yours

I have the coolest stuff.

And when I'm lacking stuff that is incredibly cool, people send it to me.

This week I received two wonderful presents. From my little brother in Germany, I got this:
Yeah. I know what you're thinking. Is that a leprechaun in a jar? And it is...but it's totally cool, because as you can see, he has the obligatory stick and leaf that all jar-captured creatures seem to need to live. He now sits atop my computer tower for luck...or until he gives me all his gold.

And my wonderful friend EJ Knapp sent me the most beautiful bat charm.
How gorgeous is that?? And he has that cute lil smooshed up face...the bat, not EJ. Not to say EJ isn't cute, but he's not a bat. One of my favorite bat experiences was my excessive visiting of Henry Doorly Zoo. They have these beautiful little vampire bats in a tiny cave. When it's feeding time, the staff places little bowls of blood on the floor and the bats fly down, then wobble over to the bowls on their knobby lil wings. *happy sigh* Amazing creatures. I have serious bat-love. Good choice, EJ!

Now...how jealous are you? I have cool stuff and know great people!

(Incidentally, I also love giving cool stuff to great people...so just wait for the contests to begin when we get a wee bit closer to my pub. date)

Looking For A Good Book?

Try Looking For Alaska by John Green. I read this earlier today and was completely immersed in the world of Miles (affectionately and ironically referred to as "Pudge"), Chip, and Alaska and their life at an Alabaman boarding school. The book is brilliantly structured, not by chapters, but by how many days before a particular event...and then how many days after. (Sorry, can't say what--it's a spoiler)

This book was smart (I love all the bookish references and hey! Pudge shares my love of famous last words!), funny, and terrifically sad. An excellent portrayal of love and loss...and what friendship really is.

I look forward to seeing more from Mr. Green in the future--he's got the stuff.

Another Delicious Blurb!

I have an ever-growing list of personal gods and goddesses. And I'm adding Erica Orloff's name to it today.

Erica Orloff is the brilliant, talented, sweeter-than-life author of more than a dozen books. And she was kind enough to read Eighth Grade Bites and give me a blurb. I'm asking you, minions, to pay Erica (who also writes as Liza Conrad) back by buying one (or more!) of her many wonderful books. I'm so thrilled that she enjoyed her peek into Vlad's world!

"Heather Brewer has invented the most endearing of vampires in Vlad, an eighth grader juggling the woes of adolescence with the decidedly unique difficulties of being a vampire. She perfectly captures the humor and angst of eighth grade, mixed with a nail-biting adventure. Utterly charming and irresistible!"
~Liza Conrad, author of HIGH SCHOOL BITES

Thanks, Erica! You rule. (and I'm pretty sure Vlad just blushed a little at all the compliments...so, he thanks you too)

Important Announcement!

Line up, my minions! Single file, come on...Christopher, stop tugging Jackie's braids. Dawn, leave Brian alone. Okay, are we all here? Good! It's time for a hyper-critical announcement.

You're about to miss out on a fantastic opportunity.

I bet you had no idea, did you? Here it is, mega-crucial appointment time and you almost missed it. Well, lucky for you, Auntie Heather is here to remind you.

The 2006 Backspace Writers Conference is coming up...and it's filling at a ridiculously fast rate. You need to register, my minions, or else you'll miss out on the grand opportunity of meeting me. Oh...and all that other cool writing and publishing-related stuff like tons of agents, editors, panels and hob-knobbing galore.

It's going to be amazing, I assure you. And you will walk away smarter, better prepared, and several other positive adjectives just for having attended. You don't have to be a member of Backspace to attend (though you'll want to be after you do), but for any writer who has dreams of publication, this is the conference for you.

The Skip the Pitch sessions have filled and the awards banquet is stuffed, but there's still room at the conference, so get those registrations in now!

You wouldn't want to miss out on an opportunity to meet me, would you?

The Faintly Metallic Taste of Hope

I was printing out a copy of Eighth Grade Bites this morning to ship off to a fantastic, amazing author who's agreed to take a look (and maybe, if the stars align, give me a blurb) and received an enormous surprise.

As the printer spit the pages out, I'd capture a few in my hands and place them in a neat little pile. Well, see, it takes a while for even my lightning-paced printer to print 150 pages, so while I was waiting and organizing, I found myself reading some. And that's when the big surprise came.

I don't remember this book.

I remember writing it, yes, what happens, yes, but I'd forgotten how funny certain parts are and how engaging others are. In short, I really enjoyed the parts I read. And that gives me hope that others will enjoy it too.

Of course, it's possible that the world will show up at my door with the obligatory torches and pitchforks, demanding that I give up my budding career as a writer...but if they do, I have a few choice words for them.

Mainly, bite me.

National Library Week Is April 2-8, 2006!

From YA Books Central:

"NATIONAL LIBRARY WEEK IS APRIL 2-8, 2006
Mar-03-2006

National Library Week 2006 marks the sixth year of The Campaign for America's Libraries, a multi-year public education campaign sponsored by the ALA and libraries across the country to speak loudly and clearly about the value of libraries and librarians in the 21st century. More than 20,000 libraries in all 50 states are being reached by @ your library, The Campaign for America's Libraries. This year's theme is "Change Your World @ your library."

Libraries all across the country and around the world have the books and magazines, databases and free Internet access that can help you change your world. National Library Week is a wonderful time to celebrate the contributions of libraries, librarians and library workers. Use this week to let your school, campus, or community librarian know just how much you appreciate him or her!

To learn more, please visit: http://www.ala.org/ala/pio/campaign/nlw/NLW.htm"

A Necessary Evil

When I think of yesterday and what I accomplished, I'm reminded of a quote from Office Space. "I did nothing. I did absolutely nothing, and it was everything I thought it could be."

Today will be a different story.

Today, I'll be reading--though I'm not sure just yet what--and working very hard at staying away from the first draft of Ninth Grade Sucks. That's probably the most challenging part of the whole process. Staying away. Leaving it alone. NOT writing and tweaking and fixing. It's one of those necessary evils we have to deal with as writers. I'll stay away from the book for a month. And I'll try to stay away from writing anything at all for at least two weeks. It'll be better for the book and better for me.

Besides, at what other job can you take time off to read and still calling it "working"?

I love being a writer.

I'm A Bloodthirsty Monster

That's me. I'm a murdering murderer, a bloodthirsty monster, a killer by design. And the sick thing is that I know I'll do it again. I can't help myself. My victims carry such an allure for me that I can't step back and let them go free without loving them to death.

My name is Heather Brewer...and I'm a plant killer.

I love plants. During warmer temperatures, my little patio area is filled with dozens of beautiful, lush plants and flowers. Inside the house, I have a philodendron and a large palm. And inside my head, I'm already writing a eulogy for them.

See, I try to take care of them...I water them, talk to them (sometimes they talk back...those ferns are such gossipy things), give them little plant food pellets...and they die. Much like Charlie Brown in his Christmas special, "I killed it."

I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Perhaps I'm a version of Lenny from Of Mice and Men, and the plants are my puppy. But unlike Lenny, I willfully move on to puppy after puppy, stroking their little fuzzy heads until...well, you get the point.

What does this have to do with writing? Well, I was just admiring my little patio (what I call "the garden") and daydreaming about how nice it will be to get my plants in and then sit at my little cafe table to do some editing. But my daydream was shadowed by the brown, ugly, dead clumps that were once plants (and trust me...they were brown clumps long before winter). My dad once joked that I have a brown thumb. I'm beginning to think he's right.

It bothers me. But not enough to put much effort into correcting it. So, I'll keep planting and loving my victims to death...and pushing the images of dead, lifeless clumps out of my head. Good puppy. Nice puppy.

My puppy.

Crispy Heather (on a stick)

Redheads don't tan, my faithful minions. We step into the sunlight and burst into flames.

Yesterday I found myself downtown, wearing green, joking with the family about how giant leprechauns had come to take over St. Louis. That's right--the 37th annual St. Patrick's Day parade had come to St. Louis and it was my first to attend. Apart from people asking every five minutes if I'd registered to vote yet, other people handing me religious tracks shaped like shamrocks, and this little brat behind me that couldn't seem to keep his face away from mine (I know I'm lovely, darling, but please...admire me from afar), it was a blast.

But.

See, I'd never dreamed that it would be eighty degrees and sunny in early March. So, naturally, I forgot my sunblock at home. Yeah...ouch. But on the plus side, I did get to see other rennies marching in the parade. And pipers. Can't forget them.

Today will be filled with reading (I've yet to determine what), relaxing, and aloe vera...lots and lots of aloe vera.

Stick A Stake In Me, I'm Done!

Happy happy joy joy, my minions. I just finished the first draft of Ninth Grade Sucks!

It ended at 31,248 words--pretty short of my 40,000 word goal, but I have no doubts that revisions will carry me at least to 40,000...and likely, beyond. I'm in love with the story--ugly as it is in its first draft form. And I think I did a pretty good job this time around. We'll see what my readers say after the second draft.

At any rate, it's a day of celebration, my minion horde. So make with the happy!

Better Late Than Never!

Flog me if you will, minions, but though today's post is coming entirely too late to even really refer to it as Thursday's entry, it's a good one, so I beg your pardon.

Two wonderful, amazing, fellow vampire-loving authors have given me blurbs! So please, go out (or follow the links here) and buy their books--support two talented, giving, brilliant authors. There's a shortage on the planet of good folks like these.

From Douglas Rees, author of VAMPIRE HIGH:

"This book will fool you. Just when you think
you've identified it as a story lit by the cheery glow
of a slightly scary jack-o-lantern, it becomes
something else -- a tale told by the flickering light
of a dying campfire late at night. And the shadows are
very dark indeed. A surprising mix of humor and
horror."

and from Nancy Baker, author of KISS OF THE VAMPIRE:

"Fresh and fast-paced, with just the right brew
of chills and laughs. I’m looking forward to
finding out what happens when Vlad hits Grade Nine."

And a cloud of happiness rests comfortably on the Brewer house.

Sweet dreams, all!

Desk Gremlins

Somewhere under the pile of bills, the stacks of notes, the presence of duckies, and the random assortment of All Things Heatheresque, I have a gorgeous cherry desk.

But for some strange reason, I cannot seem to keep it uncluttered. Once a month, I haul out a trash bag and go through everything. Throw this away, throw that away, file this, put that there. The desk will stay clean for about a week. And then, as if little desk-grubbing-up gremlins had come in the night, WHAMMO! It's filthy and disorganized once again.

(Well, I don't know if I'd use the word "disorganized"...as I know where each and every thing on my desk is located. Ask me where my latests notes on Wonderland are--got 'em right here. That coupon for 50 cents off Diet Pepsi? It's shoved halfway under the mousepad, thankyouverymuch.)

The desk is the only thing in my house that really gets cluttered. Maybe the gremlins like cherry.

Today, I'm going up against the gremlins during writing breaks. I miss my desk.

Speaking of writing...I didn't finish Chapter Thirteen last night after all. It turns out that chapter is a bit more involved than I originally thought. But rest assured, today I'll not only finish it, but head straight on into Chapter Fourteen.

That is...if I ever stop procrastinating and just go do it already...

Thirteen Approacheth!

Three more chapters to go and I've completed the first draft of Ninth Grade Sucks! Of course, for some reason, this book is working out just like the first in the series--the first draft will end short of my 40,000 word goal.

But that's okay. I tend to add quite a bit during revisions anyway, and that will put me over the top.

What's interesting is that I go through a period of sadness when I get close to finishing a book. The same sadness, interestingly enough, that I go through after I finish reading a really great book. I just get bummed that the journey is over. And, even though I know that there will be other books, other stories, other characters...I still mourn the loss.

Weird, huh?

Today I'll be finishing up Chapter Thirteen (which will be the most exciting chapter in the entire book...plus it's my favorite number!), cleaning off my desk, and contemplating my deep love of Fester Jester.

Plan B (Negative)

Last night I was chewing on an idea with my brain. (Relax, that's perfectly normal for me) Then, after more chewing, more thoughts, and several hours of inner debate, I made a decision.

I'm going to finish writing the first draft of Ninth Grade Sucks before my agent gets back from the London Book Fair on March 13th.

Crazy? Maybe. But, I did the math after yesterday's word count and it works out to 1,600 words a day--a perfectly feasible goal, especially with Vlad. (If it were Dillon, there would be no way I'd tackle this goal--I don't enjoy setting myself up for disappointment) I'm not sure why I'm nervous--maybe the whole Wonderland/Dillon thing has filled me with self doubt. When I wrote Black and White/A Whisper of Need, my minimum was 2,000 words a day, and I met that goal each time, usually surpassing it.

But it's time to suck it up and dive in there fangs first. I'm a writer, for cryin' out loud. This is what I do.

Wish me luck, minions.

Word Clouds ROCK!

A dear friend of mine (Hi, Christopher!) sent me a word cloud some time ago and I kept meaning to put it up here, but...well, I'm forgetful. But here it is and I LOVE it! Totally sums up my blog, I think. Don't you?
If you'd like a word cloud of your website, just click here.

~correction~

I recounted the people who have offered to take a look at Eighth Grade Bites and possibly give me a blurb. The other day I said it was seven, but I was wrong.

There are eight. :)

Giving Up The Ghost

Something's dying. And I'm pretty sure it's my love of Wonderland.

Let's get one thing straight, my minions. Writing almost always seems to come very easily to me. (Notice I didn't say "good writing"--it's my belief that only a tenth of what I write is anywhere near good) I'm not one to struggle with the flow of words. And I'm a fast writer--1,000 words a day is standard for me. My top wordcount put-out so far has been 5,575 words in four hours. So, something isn't right with Wonderland...and I need to step back and figure out what that is before I can move forward with it.

I'm reminded of that quote from Raymond Chandler: "The faster I write, the better my output. If I'm going slow, I'm in trouble. It means I'm pushing the words instead of being pulled by them."

I've always viewed myself as the voice for my characters, their interviewer, their medium. They tell me their story and I write it down. I've run into situations with Vlad where he dug his heels in and refused to discuss a certain event until we first visited a different event and, let me tell ya, I learned to go with the flow and listen to whatever he had to say--no matter how unimportant I felt that might be. Vlad knew what he was talking about. And in the end, things turned out okay.

It's different with Dillon. It's as if he's a dull, spoiled kid that doesn't give a fig about telling me his story--his eyes glaze over if I ask him what he wants to talk about. He's not troubled by the horrible things he's experiencing...whereas Vlad is troubled simply by being Vlad. I can't help a kid who doesn't want to be helped. (And I have a sneaking suspicion that Dillon hates me...I mean, hey, why not just dive straight into schizophrenic paranoia while I'm at it?)

So I'm doing something difficult--something I've been spending hours in front of my keyboard trying to avoid. I'm putting my work-in-progress aside.

Not forever...but for a while. I need time to cool off and Dillon needs time to...you know, I'm not sure what Dillon needs. But I am sure about one thing.

I'm finishing Ninth Grade Sucks.

Work? What's That?

"Begin at the beginning," the King said gravely,
"and go on till you come to the end: then stop."
~Lewis Caroll, Alice in Wonderland

Ah, if only it were so easy...

But that's what I'm attempting to do.

(By "attempting" of course, I mean "avoiding while I organize my desk drawers, do laundry, check email, and feed the birds outside bits of bread")

My wordcount has been slowly creeping upwards. S.l.o.w.l.y. And I'm pretty sure that I'm not so much stuck as I am being lazy--a horrible feather to wear in one's writer cap. The formulaic cure is, of course: butt + chair = words. I'm doing my best to stick with it and to not get bummed out at my meager daily wordcount. It'll happen. Slowly, maybe, but surely.

In other happy news, two more wonderful authors have agreed to take a look at Eighth Grade Bites! They're both amazing, but one in particular really made me squeal with delight. So, with any luck, at least some of the seven people who are reading my book will like it enough to say some kind words. I hope, anyway. I mean, what are the odds they'd insult me? *worried glance at her email notifier* You...you don't think they'd do that, do you?

*sigh* Great. Another thing to obsess over while I avoid real work. ;)