Just So You Know...

Just a quick note, minions. If you've emailed me at Heather@HeatherBrewer.com and have not received a reply, I'm deeply sorry. I just learned last night that my email has been placing a large percentage of my incoming mail into my Spam/Junk-mail folder and deleting it. Ick...the wonders of technology, eh?

So, if you emailed and I didn't respond, I didn't get it. Feel free to resend.

Caution: Possible Echoes Ahead

Heads up, minions! Last night I received my editorial memo (Yay!), so the blogging may be thin for Auntie Heather over the next two weeks. In true hermit style, I'm taking a sabbatical from the forums I frequent, donning my ever-so-professional Happy Bunny jammie pants, and settling down with Vlad to hammer out some revisions. Posting may be sparse, but I'm just an email away, should you need me.

Last night, I went to a reading/signing by Melanie Lynne Hauser. Melanie is so sweet and just a bundle of fun (she's also very, very little--I had to resist the urge to pick her up and put her in my pocket). Go buy her books, minions (the sequel will be out shortly). Support a great author and a truly good person.

Make Auntie Heather proud.

Busy, Busy, Busy!

Does anyone else have a life that's, at times, like a still pool, and at other times, it's like a bunch of kids are chucking rocks into your pool? Today's a bit like the latter. My poor pool. :(

Today will be filled with a mishmash of craziness much befitting a goth/witch/writer/dork such as myself. First, I have to find a kind way to boot the tent worms out of the tree in my backyard (because...ew). But without a boot...because that involves too much, well, squishiness. Then, after getting a thousand or more (hopefully more) words into Wonderland and fretting over the upcoming deadline for Eighth Grade Bites (final revisions due May 15th), I have to try...try...to recreate what the hair guy did to my head last Thursday (because, as it turns out, he wasn't a butcher at all--Jeremy was seriously cool). Then I have to call my bank and threaten physical harm on someone for screwing with my account balance (even though I'm quite the pacifist). And then later on tonight I get to meet the wondermous Melanie Lynne Hauser when she'll be doing a reading/signing at my local library.

Somewhere in there I need to schedule goofing off time.

Screw it, I'm goofing off now.

Thou Shalt Not Plagiarize

Something is wrong with the world.

Strike that. Many, many things are wrong with the world. I'm focusing on only one thing today.

It seems like accusations of plagiarism are filling the media these days, from Dan Brown's trial to the Opal-Got-Kissed girl's recent admissions. And more and more, we are seeing students google, copy, and paste their way to research papers. Do they know it's wrong? Do you?

According to the gods of Webster, plagiarizing is defined as follows:

Main Entry: pla·gia·rize
Pronunciation: 'plA-j&-"rIz also -jE-&-
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): -rized; -riz·ing
Etymology: plagiary
transitive senses : to steal and pass off (the ideas or words of another) as one's own : use (another's production) without crediting the source
intransitive senses : to commit literary theft : present as new and original an idea or product derived from an existing source
- pla·gia·riz·er noun

In short, that means if it wasn't your completely original, fully realized idea first, you can't use it without permission or at least crediting the source. (Depends on the situation)

Believe me, I know how much writing essays on something as coma-inducing as Spandex's Affect on Society in the 80s can suck, but you have to do your own work. Why? Well, 1) it's illegal to plagiarize and 2) you might learn some pretty fascinating things about spandex if you do your own work. I doubt it, but hey, stranger things have happened.

Don't steal. Bad monkeys. No banana.

10 Things I Know About Writing

My friend Toni (man, just saying that makes me feel like a gangster...) has a great list on her blog today of ten things she knows about writing. She brought the concept onto Backspace this morning and asked us all to make our own lists. So, without further ado, here are ten things I know about writing:

10. Not everyone will get what you're trying to pull off with a story.

9. As in everything, be yourself. Good things will follow.

8. I'll never understand how writers got that poetic alcoholic stereotype. Who can write when they're tipsy? Not me.

7. It's easier to believe the bad things people say about your work than the good.
6. It's easier to answer "What do you do?" when you have a book coming out.

5. Waiting on agents never, ever, ever ends.

4. Even when you've sold a book, it won't feel like you're going to be published...and maybe it never will.

3. Wow...sitting in a chair and writing all the time sure has an affect on the size of your butt.

2. Writers--even amazingly successful authors--are the nicest, most giving people on the planet and they all want you to succeed.

1. Buy stock in Office Depot.

What about you? What do you know?

Just call me Brewer Вереска!

I have a serious crush on all things Russian--the land, the language. *sigh* Major swoonage for Auntie Heather. So for fun, I hopped on babelfish and translated my name, Heather Brewer, into Russian. Brewer Вереска--that's me. :)

And now I'm off to NOT procrastinate, as I only have a little over three weeks until revisions of Eighth Grade Bites are due. Be good, my minions (I know better than to tell you to behave), while I'm strapped for time.

Behold!

My dorky glory shall descend upon the Backspace Conference in July despite the raising of both voices and pitchforks! Okay, okay, so nobody's raised any pitchforks...nor voices...not even one measley little torch...not yet. But one can always hope.

Regardless, I just sent in my registration fees. No backing out now. New York City, here I come! I'm completely geeked about this trip and I'm hoping to squeeze as much book-related fun out of it as I can. (With getting to meet all those wonderful people, hobnob with pros, see my agent and my crit partner in person...I'm likely to explode with happiness)

Today is a busy day for me, filled with paying bills, buying food, and chop-chop-chopping some of my hair off at the local butcher academy. Er...I mean..."salon". (The last time I let anyone else do my hair, they gave me bangs...BANGS! Can you imagine? Framing my adorable cherub face--no lack of self-esteem here--and making me look like Jabba the Hut...with bangs. It was awful.) Hopefully later I'll be jumping back into Wonderland. But for now, Dillon's on hold until I get all this other crap out of the way.

Now, why are you reading my blog? Shouldn't you be registering?

Gray September

Sometimes you write a book because you absolutely have to. Gray September is like that for me...which is odd, because its predecessor, Black and White, was like that for me as well. Gray, however, is a whole different beast, its own story, unique. And the truth is, I haven't talked about it much because I don't want anyone to tell me that I shouldn't write it. Not that I need permission, but people tend to have opinions on everything and they loooove to share them. I'm working on Wonderland, no worries--it's a much bigger priority than Gray right now. But every once in a while, when I get inspired or stuck on something with Wonderland, I'll turn to Gray and see what's up.

Yesterday was huge. We're talking over 3,000-words-in-a-day-huge, plus I mapped out the rather complex plot with a rough outline, and deleted more words than I wrote. The story is about three people (Dorian, Brian and Chloe) and how each of them deals with the fragility of life. But more than that, it's about loving someone so much, that you have to let them go. Terribly sad and not at all a Young Adult novel. Gray is actually a sequel, but it's important to me that it doesn't look like a sequel, because Black and White may never see the light of day.

Dorian gets dumped by his steady girlfriend, drops out of college and moves to a new city to get his head on straight, but he never counted on meeting Chloe--let alone loving her. And he most certainly never counted out finding out what he does about his dad. Brian had settled into a pleasant, quiet life after the death of his best friend years before. But now he's learning new, scary things about that friend that are drudging up the past in a too-vivid way for him. And Chloe...man, Chloe. She's got a cheating boyfriend, a reluctant crush on Dorian, and an unreasonable phobia of the color gray. And that's just the icing on the Chloe cake.

If no one ever reads it, that's fine. Because I'm writing this one for me.

By the by, Wonderland's outline? It's with my fabulous agent right now. Here's hoping he likes it.

Outline of an Outline

Just when I think I have a firm grasp on just how I write, along comes another shift and I'm once again left clueless.

For the longest time, I resisted writing outlines. Then, for quite a while, they looked something like this:

Chapter One--Billy finds the dead cat.

But now, for some strange reason (I'm guessing it's Dillon's way of reminding me he's not Vlad), the outline I'm doing for Wonderland is closer to this:

Chapter One--Billy walks into the old house. It smells like mold and dust, but he keeps searching the building until he comes across a shoe box. He knows what's in the shoe box before he removes the lid, but does it anyway. Inside is his grandmother's cat, dead.

I'm filling my outline with much more detail this time around. Why? No clue. (And just so you know, there is no boy named Billy, nor are there any dead cats featured in Wonderland) But it may be that I'm still finding my groove in this writing gig. Or it may be that my groove is full of changes, that I'll never settle on one specific way to do things for every book I write. After all, my life is ever-changing. Why not my writing methods?

The important thing is to trust yourself. If you feel inclined to write a detailed outline (or to resist writing one altogether), go with it. You have to find your way of doing things.

If I ever find mine...I'll let you know.

*squints* That's a light??

Yep! That's a light at the end of the tunnel, I'm pretty sure.

I just finished writing my synopsis! Hip hip HUZZAH!

It's pretty crappy, I think, and ugly as ugly can be, but finishing it lifts a huge weight off my shoulders. Besides, now (after I clean it and the outline up a bit) I can go back to Wonderland and spend some much-needed time with Dillon.

I'm so giddy with excitement that sometime over the next few days, my fabulous agent will get his first real peek into Dillon's world. I hope he likes it.

Who am I kidding? I hope he LOVES it!

In other news, Erica Orloff has a fantastic entry on her blog today. It should be required reading. Seriously.

Twisting Wonderland

I was just looking over my outline for The View from the Wonderland Asylum and it occurred to me that I'm doing just what I had set out to do. I took the world created by Lewis Carroll and twisted it and turned it until it became what it is--dark, poignant, real.

I'm pleased with my work, so far. Now if only I could finish tweaking this outline, so I could get on that synopsis. (I'm half-way there...just a few more chapters...)

Something's got hold of me lately. Not self doubt, but something else. Wonderland is vastly different than Vlad's world. I can't help but wonder if it will be as well received. And it doesn't help that this book is lacking that sarcastic wit, that pun-loving prose that Eighth Grade Bites will be known for. Wonderland is wholly dark and without even a smidge of humor so far, so I imagine that's partially to blame for my mood.

Maybe I need to rethink that.

Action, scary situations, and adventure are great, but without an occasional smirk, they may be too much to bear. After all, do I ever have a day without humor in it? No. So why should Dillon?

I don't know. I need to think about it more and find out what's missing.

Where's That Straightjacket Of Mine?

I must be losing my mind, minions. For some sick, masochistic, twisted reason, I volunteered to write a synopsis of Wonderland for my agent.

I know! What's WRONG with me?? Apparently the doctors need to tighten the buckles on my pretty coat that snaps in the back, because I'm horrible at writing synopses. Fortunately, I have the world's most understanding, wonderful, fabulous agent there is to have, and I'm sure it'll all work out fine. I'm actually stupidly excited about it, so there's further proof that Auntie Heather has slipped even further off the deep end.

I'm also happy to share that last night I completed a rough version of a detailed outline for Wonderland (little notes to myself about just what the heck I'm writing) and, happy happy joy joy, I know how it all ends. BIG relief there.

I can't recall whether or not I blogged about this, but my wonderful editor emailed a couple of weeks ago and asked if I had any thoughts on cover art for Eighth Grade Bites that she could pass on to the art department. Well, you know me, I have thoughts on everything. So I made up a little Word File, typed up my thoughts, included some examples and sent it on. Well, happily, she liked what I sent and said she'd pass it on. No promises, but it would be way cool if they used any of my ideas. Of course, they are brilliant artists and I am a lowly author, so really, what do I know about cover design? I can't wait to see what brilliant artwork they come up with!

And now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you minions go out and pre-order a book. The fabulous Ally Carter's I'd Tell You I Love You But Then I'd Have To Kill You is due to be released on May 1st!

Holy Neglected Blog, Batman!

Sorry for the distinct absence of, well, me. Auntie Heather has been immersing herself in all things Wonderland lately and, for a moment, she forgot that she has minions to chatter with. But I'm back to semi-sanity now, with news from the other side of the looking-glass.

Friday night it occurred to me that Dillon had no real reason to climb through that mirror...and even less reason to stay in Wonderland and figure out who's telling the truth about why Wonderland is the wasteland it has become--Alice or Cheshire? So I thought about it all weekend, the whowhatwherewhenwhyhow of it all, and I came up with a few possibilities. Yesterday I started working those possibilities into a detailed chapter by chapter outline. I'm pretty pleased with what I have so far, even though I've only managed to map out the first four chapters.

The challenge with Wonderland has been giving Dillon the power to move the story. What I had written prior to my Question Fest is good and will likely stay in one form or another, but Dillon wasn't driving the story. He was reacting to what Cheshire and Alice were doing...and this story isn't about them. It's about Dillon. So now that Dillon and I have an understanding of his motives, we can move forward, finish that outline, and dive back into Wonderland together.

As for Vlad...he's enjoying his nap, and would be thrilled to remind you all that he should be making his debut come late Summer of 2007.

I Feel So Very Blah(g)

Today I'm catching up on blogs and feeling very anti-my-own-blog today. I'm not sure why, but I'm betting I have a case of Spring Fever—an ailment that can only be cured by lots of time in the sunshine, preferably with warm grass under my bare feet. But sadly, there is no grass to be found beneath my desk, and I doubt any will grow there anytime soon. So for now, Dillon and I (and the ever-present Vlad, who’s currently snoozing in the back of my skull) will have to accept this limitation and be content that at least the sun is shining through the window. Because until I get a laptop (Come on, advance check!), I'm chained to one spot.

Wonderland is going wonderfully. (Ha! No surprise there!) It seems Dillon and I have found our groove. I'm currently working on a scene that involves him and Alice. It's probably one of the oddest chapters I've had to write—in that here's where things get really messy. Not messy gory, but messy screwy. Anyhoo, the pace is picking up and, factoring in revisions for Eighth Grade Bites, I wager I’ll have Wonderland ready to go by the 4th of July. (and that's being uber generous)

I'm currently reading The Gunslinger—first book of Stephen King's Dark Tower series. (Thanks, Jackie!) It's good...but strange. I'm not a big fan of cowboys, so I'm finding myself repeating my mantra of "trust the author". I know Mr. King won't steer me wrong, and I really am enjoying it. It's just an odd world, where I feel a little lost. Once I get a grip on what's going on, I'm sure I'll love it.

I'm also playing F.E.A.R. It's pretty high on the creepy scale, but not nearly as scary as I'd like. I'm thinking of revisiting some Silent Hill or even Thief 3...there are some excellent asylum scenes in there I'd love to relive. But for now, I'm going to finish reading blogs, drop by Backspace, and head back into Wonderland.

How Scary Is Too Scary?

I've been asked of some of the things I write, "But won't that scare kids?"

Yes. That's the whole point.

I'm dumbfounded at the bleaching of America sometimes, how everything is about shielding our children from anything controversial, scary, or dark. Quite frankly, it drives me crazy and ticks me off. Growing up is a strange and, at times, terrifying experience, filled with many speedbumps, ghosts, and goblins. If a book can provide a bit of escapism into a world where the scary stuff goes beyond anything they might encounter at Aunt Sally's house...well, then I say its served its purpose. Besides...kids are smart.

They know the difference between real and unreal, but are still blessed with the fantastic ability to lose themselves in their imagination long enough to experience something different than their day to day. Most adults have lost that. The other day at the park, I overheard a little girl ask her daddy if he'd be a cowboy and she could be the cowgirl. Her dad shook his head and told her he was too big to play. It was sad.

And that, my minions, is why I refuse to grow up. Adults can be so boring, so cemented in reality that they can't let go of all the grown up stuff long enough to immerse themselves in make-believe.

You can't stop playing. You can't stop pretending. That's what makes life truly magical.

As for scary vs. too scary, I think that growing up where trolls live under bridges, where wolves dress like grandmothers and gobble up unsuspecting girls, where green-faced witches are melted with water...well, I think I turned out okay after being exposed to all that. And I think the kids of today will be too.

Some Mornings It Just Doesn't Pay To Gnaw Through The Leather Straps

After a gruelling morning, I've decided to take a little Heather time away from phone calls and people and anything resembling responsibility, and sit down to plan my garden for the year. Now, some of you might recall that I have a brown thumb, but I'll add a caveat to that--outside, my thumb can be quite green. And this year, I'm planting something I've longed to have for many years. A gothic garden.

Oh yes. Moonflowers, BellaDonna, Mandrake, Foxglove, Snapdragons, blood-red roses, hollyhock, and more. I'm giddy.

Well...as giddy as I get.

So, since my mind is playing hooky from anything remotely writing or publishing related, I'll bid you adieu.

Go outside, minions. That's an order.

Bits and Pieces

It's been an odd few days, minions--filled to the brim with the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I'm feeling rather hermitesque after reading a book that reminded me so much of myself in high school. Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. The main character was strikingly, terrifyingly ME. It hurt to read. Certain phrases I still use today, the habit of nicknaming people, the yard help with her dad, art class, spanish class, the convenient (but obnoxious) friendship with Heather (and that name...my name), different thought processes she goes through, being the outcast. There are many more specific details that made me jokingly wonder aloud whether Laurie Halse Anderson sat behind me in one class or another. It depressed the hell out of me. But I loved it. It was a wonderful book. (and there were differences between Melinda and I...for one, her big, dark secret is entirely different than my own)

I also read The Burn Journals by Brent Runyan. And, as it was housed with Teen Fiction at the library, I had no idea it was a memoir until I read the Acknowledgements at the end. Incredible story, but very, very sad.

I need to maybe not read two depressing books in one weekend. Ya think?

Beyond that, there's been little writing in the way of Wonderland. I'm not stuck or anything. I'm being lazy. I figure I've earned a little laziness, so here it is. I'm not pressuring myself on wordcount. I'm just enjoying the story as it comes. And if it doesn't...well, something else will.

Until then, I'm going to go read something uplifting.

Preferably with a lot of gore.