Two Amazing Stories

I always hesitate to talk on my blog about difficulties in my own life (beyond writing), but in light of two recent and incredible examples in the publishing industry, I'm feeling extra brave and extra humble today. Yesterday, I got served foreclosure papers the home my husband and I own in Florida. Through many severe financial struggles over the years, my husband and I have always been able to hold onto one last source of pride: our perfect credit. It hasn't been perfect for a few months now as we've pursued selling our home through a short sale (an option we didn't like, but had to face). And now we're confronted with the very real possibility that our home will go into foreclosure. By the way, a foreclosure on your credit report is even worse than bankruptcy. So, as you can imagine, this morning I've fought feelings of doom and gloom and self-pity. And then I read this uplifting post by my friend, Peggy Eddleman, and I was reminded that ruined credit isn't the end of the world. Not even close. I may be living in my in-laws' basement, but I have my family, and we have our health and strength (something my husband and son haven't always had). Some amazing writers in our community (and their families) don't have that.

Today is the book birthday for Chad Morris's, The Inventor's Secret. Chad isn't able to promote his book right now. He's where he should be, helping his daughter, Maddie, recover from a surgery to remove a brain tumor. Maddie has to wear a packing beneath her nose that looks like a mustache, and Chad's writer friends have started a campaign, "Mustaches for Maddie," to support this sweet girl, her family, and her dad's book launch all at the same time. Every time I see one of those mustaches on Twitter or Facebook, my heart is warmed by the love we writers can extend when our lives and concerns move beyond ourselves.

And then there's Bridget Zinn. I didn't know her story until I read Peggy's blog. Bridget won't be celebrating her book birthday for Poison on March 12th because she passed away from cancer in 2011. But her family and writer friends celebrate for her and her vision to bring laughter and joy into teens' lives through her words.

And to think I felt sorry for myself this morning. I have so much. A wonderful husband. Three beautiful children. Devoted friends. I have the happiness I feel when I write new stories and breathe life into new characters. I also have a loving family who has taken my little family in when we needed help. I'm grateful for what I have, and I'm feeling even more grateful today for the example of Chad Morris (and his writer wife, Shelly Brown) and their more important dream of helping their daughter, Maddie. I'm grateful for Bridget Zinn and the legacy she left. I want to be like her and Chad and Shelly. I've seriously cried my way through writing this blog post. I don't know how to express my gratitude to these writers, except by doing what I can to share my thoughts about them and help them keep paying it forward to writers and people everywhere.

Please celebrate and support these authors, spread the word about them, and buy their books (they look AMAZING)!

I Have an Agent!

Although I never posted anything on my blog, my friends know I lost my agent last year when she quit the business for personal reasons. I had enough respect for her to trust she was making the right decision for herself, but I'm not going to lie, it was rough. My novel was still on submission with our first round of editors, and the feedback we'd received so far was positive. I felt certain we were close to selling. So when my agent quit without warning, it seemed like all the hard work and momentum I'd been building came to a screeching halt. After a couple days of bleary-eyed staring at the wall, I decided to get over myself and get back to work. My mom reminded me it's those who don't give up who succeed. I dove back into the last stretch of drafting my new novel and started querying my previously agented novel.

I'm going to back up and tell you I got my first agent without querying. When my first novel was polished and ready, I pitched it to her at a writers' conference, and she requested my full manuscript. Within a few days, she enthusiastically offered. I never queried anyone else. So when I queried for the first time after I'd lost my agent, and the interest in my novel wasn't dynamic, I worried. Was I really as talented as I thought? Was it a total fluke that I got an agent in the first place? In the meantime, my husband was still searching for adequate work after being laid off his job at the beginning of summer, and our perfect credit went down the drain as we could no longer afford renting out our home in Florida for less than the mortgage payment. We tried to sell it for what we owed, but no bites; pursuing a short sale was the next best option. My husband, our three children, and I were living in my in-laws' basement for what we'd originally thought would be a few short months, but now it seemed a never-ending prospect.

It took a lot of willpower, perseverance and courage to believe everything would turn out all right. It took a lot of faith to push through finishing my story, to let go of my own reality long enough to get lost in a world of my own imagining--but where my heroine also wrestled with loss of control over many aspects of her life, and where she worked to find creative ways to move forward and not be a victim to circumstance.

Sometimes my strength would crumble. I had my share of sob fests and moments of despair. But I refused to linger in that state of mind. Again and again, I'd pick myself up and get busy writing. At the end of January, I was ready to query my new novel. I took a deep breath and sent it out into the world. And this time I did see dynamic interest. Within a week, my full manuscript was out with several respectable agents. I tried not to get too excited, but I did allow myself to hope. I often hear people say, "Don't have any expectations." I see the logic behind that, but shouldn't we have faith? Shouldn't we believe in ourselves and our work? It's the more painful route when things don't work out, but I still believe we should dream. Sometimes it takes all the bravery in the world to cling to that hope. It often takes every last ounce of faith. It's hard, but I find it--that belief in me and my stories.

Josh Adams

My good friend Sara B. Larson read my manuscript and fell head-over-heels in love with it--so much so that she volunteered to recommend it to her agent, Josh Adams. He was sick with chickenpox (poor guy!), so she waited until he was better to mention me and THE LOVELY INVISIBLE, my YA fantasy, a retelling of the Greek myth, "Cupid & Psyche." Within a few short days, I got an email from him saying he wanted to call about a "possible offer of representation." Cue butterflies of anticipation and random fits of giggling. And then, as luck would have it, I caught a terrible cold and lost my voice. I emailed Josh a picture of myself, asking him to envision what I really looked like when we spoke, and not an 80-year-old smoker. He later told me when he got that email, he busted up laughing and knew right then and there he'd love working with me. He thought it was so "cute" (aww) that I was worried enough about my voice to feel compelled to do that. And telling me that endeared me to him. (He likes my weird personality! I can be myself with him! We're going to get on great!) That's how I felt during our entire phone conversation--so at ease, but also like I was in the hands of a pro, a business-savvy, personable power agent--WHO LOVES MY NOVEL. Does it get any better? Nope.

So, yes, this story has a happy ending. I am ECSTATIC, OVER THE MOON, WISH-I-COULD-SCREAM-IF-I-HAD-A-VOICE HAPPY to announce I'm now represented by the fantastic, one-of-a-kind Josh Adams of Adams Literary. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world and am beyond grateful for the opportunity to partner with someone so amazing for my publishing career.

I believe in good things to come.

Say What?

I found this old paper in my files. And when I say old, I mean written-on-a-typewriter-and-Xeroxed-a-thousand-times old. My friend gave me a copy of this in high school. I have no idea whom the original source is. BUT THIS IS HILARIOUS. Like I was crying. A lot. So without further ado, I present to you "SIGNS RESULTING FROM BAD KNOWLEDGE OF ENGLISH: How Communication Gets Crazy When You Don't Have Common Meanings." Which one is your favorite?

In a Tokyo hotel: Please to bathe inside the tub.

In a Bucharest hotel lobby: The lift is bing fixed for the next day. During that time we regret that you will be unbearable.

In a Belgrade hotel elevator: To move the cabin, push buttons for wishing floor. If the cabin should enter more persons, each one should press a number of wishing floor. Driving is then going alphabetically by national order.

In a Paris hotel elevator: Please leave your values at the front desk.

In a hotel in Athens: Visitors are expected to complain at the office between the hours of 9 and 11 a.m. daily.

In a Yugoslavian hotel: The flattening of underwear with pleasure is the job of the maid.

In a Japanese hotel: You are invited to take advantage of the chambermaid.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from a Russian Orthodox monastery: You are welcome to visit the cemetery where famous Russians and Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except Thursday.

In an Austrian hotel catering to skiers: Not to perambulate the corridors in the hours of repose in the boots of ascension.

On the menu of a Swiss restaurant: Our wines leave you nothing to hope for.

Outside a Hong Kong tailor shop: Ladies may have a fit upstairs.

In a Bangkok dry cleaner's: Drop your trousers here for best results.

In a Rhodes tailor shop: Order your summer suit. Because is big rush, we will execute customers in strict rotation.

In an East African newspaper: A new swimming pool is rapidly taking shape since the contractors have thrown in the bulk of their workers.

A sign posted in Germany's Black Forest: It is strictly forbidden on our black forest camping site that people of different sex, for instance, men and women, live together in one tent unless they are married with each other for that purpose.

In a Zurich hotel: Because of the impropriety of entertaining guests of the opposite sex in the bedroom it is suggested that the lobby be used for this purpose.

In a Rome laundry: Ladies, leave your clothes here and spend the afternoon having a good time.

In the window of a Swedish furrier: Fur coats made for ladies from their own skin.

In a Copenhagen airline ticket office: We take your bags and send them in all directions.

In a Norwegian cocktail lounge: Ladies are requested not to have children in the bar.

At a Budapest zoo: Please do not feed the animals. If you have any suitable food, give it to the guard on duty.

In the office of a Roman doctor: Specialist in women and other diseases.

In an Acapulco hotel: The manager has personally passed all the water served here.

In a Tokyo shop: Our nylons cost more than common, but you'll find they are best in the long run.

From a Japanese information booklet about using a hotel air conditioner: Cooles and Heates: If you want just condition of warm in your room please control yourself.

From a brochure of a car rental firm in Tokyo: When passenger of foot heave in sight, tootle the horn. Trumpet him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage then tootle him with vigor.

Two signs from a Majorcan shop entrance:

• English well talking.
• Here speeching American.

Pucker Up!

credit

I've joined the Kissing Scene competition Cupid's Literary Connection is hosting. The following is from my young adult fantasy, THE LOVELY INVISIBLE. Isidora is a newly crowned 18-year-old queen in ancient Greece. Because her council wrongly views her as an ignorant girl, unprepared to rule, they rescind her governing power until she marries one of three preselected suitors. But the man she is drawn to isn't one of the three--or like them at all. He is invisible. In the excerpt below, Isidora is with one her suitors, Perrin, a money-wise fashionista from Athens. They are alone together in Aphrodite's temple to see how repairs are coming along after a recent earthquake.


“Would you like to try an experiment?” Perrin asked, his eyes dropping to my lips. He seemed...worried.

“What kind of experiment?”

“Just a kiss.” He narrowed his gaze, still fastened to my mouth. “Yes, that’s all I ask.”

The sound of striking hammers reverberated from outside, along with the faint shouts of commands from the workmen. I stared at Perrin and tried to imagine what kissing him would be like. I couldn’t stir up any buried sensations, only strange curiosity. But I supposed I ought to know if kissing him was agreeable. If we married, if we had to produce an heir one day, well, I should see what I was getting myself into.

“All right, Perrin. You may kiss me.”

He nodded with furrowed brows and took a deep breath. “I do find you very beautiful,” he said, as if to encourage himself. Then he let go of my hand and straightened his shoulders.

I glanced back at the temple door to see if it was still shut. When I turned around, I bumped noses with him. “Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize you were so—” He kissed me quickly. “Oh,” I said again, reduced to a one-word vocabulary.

He drew back and scratched his clean-shaven chin. “Maybe if I…” He leaned in and kissed me again, or rather smashed his wet lips against mine, as if hoping more pressure might make the sensation more gratifying. He tilted his head a couple of times for good measure. Then he abruptly pulled back and we both gulped in a great breath.

“Thank you, Isidora,” he said, his cheeks colored more from embarrassment, I suspected, than a rush from the moment. “That was most, well…” He shrugged, and then turned and bowed to the frozen eyes of the goddess like he’d just offered her the grandest libation. “I’m sure Aphrodite respects love, or uh, admiration of all kinds.”

I wiped a bit of wetness from the corner of my mouth. “Indeed.”

Fake Book Cover Day

I have decided to declare January 10th "Fake Book Cover Day" because I, along with one other person I know (my CP, Ilima) have chosen today to post our pretend covers. Everyone else, it's not too late to jump on the bandwagon!

So, without further ado, here is the fake cover I designed for my latest manuscript, The Lovely Invisible (a Cupid & Psyche retelling). Enjoy!

Click to view larger

 How many of you have fake book covers floating around out there?

Christmas, Weddings, Nano, New Stories

Lots of things have been on my mind this December, and my life has been packed with all brands of wonderful. Here's a sampling of the sweetness.

Winter bride

1. My baby sister got married yesterday. She looked lovely in her beautiful white dress and lacy winter shawl, but much, much more importantly, she was SO HAPPY. She cried. I cried. We all cried. I love you, Emily. I'll make 700 crepes for your reception any day.

2. I won NaNo in November. I realize this news is late and therefore anticlimactic, but I'm still thrilled about it. While doing NaNo again was cool, it was ten times more thrilling that I also finished my novel in November. Now The Lovely Invisible is taking a little rest in prep for a scrutinizing revision, and it always helps to have a little distance so I can get super objective.

3. I have a bright, shiny, and very different (for me, anyway) idea for a new novel! Since I revel in revisions, I'm amazed I want to draft something new already. This story is that special. It's already given me a rash of sleepless nights and all kinds of glorious distractibility. Good signs. But the premise is tricky and needs more research. I want to do this right, so I'm gearing up for major brainstorming and research-a-thons come January.

Trying to rock the 3D glasses

4. I saw The Hobbit in 3D and at an IMAX theater (my first IMAX experience). I'm a harsh film critic, and I have lots of opinions about this film, but I'm willing to forgive many things because the last half of the film was pure awesomeness (Peter Jackson rocks endings), and Thorin (played by a fab actor, Richard Armitage--have you seen North and South? Swoon!) was incredible and totally made the movie for me. So go see The Hobbit (but not in 3D). I can't wait to see it again!

5. I'm spoiling myself for Christmas (yes, I pick out my own presents) by getting a bunch of novels and writing books I selected with a focus on emotion and impactful endings--two aspects of writing I don't feel get enough attention on blogs or books on craft. I'm excited to dig in and continue to learn, learn, learn.

6. I'm most grateful, especially in light of world events, for my sweet family. They are my best gift.

Celebrating my oldest daughter after she performed in A Christmas Carol

I'd like to leave you with a Christmas present (courtesy of Coldplay). This is one of my favorite songs ever (probably tying for first place with Brandi Carlile's "The Story"). Even though this is a Christmas song, it reminds me of summer, which is when I first heard it. But it's definitely a year-round favorite.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

And You Are...?

As part of Emily R. King and Tammy Theriault's blog hop, I'm subjecting myself to David Spade's grueling interview questions. See, he's helping Mrs. Clause, who's helping Santa determine who's been naughty or nice this year. Three special presents will be awarded to those David finds worthy. Pick me, David. Pick me!

1. How many speeding tickets have you gotten?
I haven't gotten a speeding ticket since I was 18, thank you very much. Since I'm almost 36, that's pretty impressive. But I was a nasty, nasty speed demon as a teen. I was good at dodging cops, but I still got two speeding tickets.

2. Can you pitch a tent?
Yes! The basic pop-up kind anyway. And I could write a novel about a tent, and then pitch it to an agent. Does that count? :-)

3. What was your worst vacation ever?
My worst vacation was also my best vacation--FRANCE! I was nineteen and stayed a month with my French pen pal, who had visited me two times in the U.S. before. But we didn't get along this time. (I tried, David!) She ditched me twice. Once in the ginormous Louvre and once on a random street in a little village. This was back in the pre-cell-phone days, and I didn't speak French. I was scared out of my mind!

4. What was the last thing you bought over $100?
My registration for LDStorymakers in May. It's an awesome annual writers' conference in Utah. I just paid the fee this morning!

5. We're handing you the keys to what?
I think you want me to name a car, but I want a house! Not too big, not too small. Good neighborhood. Fenced yard. A place to call my own and raise my kids. *sighs*

6. What was the last meal you cooked that made even you sick?
Cream cheese chicken casserole. Sounds good, but I've made it one too many times recently. Last time was gagorama. I don't want to even think about cream cheese chicken casserole for another decade.

7. Fill in the blank: Oh my gosh! Becky, look at her butt! It is so big. She looks like  ____?
David, I refuse to answer this question! I'm too self-conscious about my own derriere to ever make fun of anyone else's!

8. What was your first car?
I shared a 1977 gold Datsun (oh, yeah, baby!) with my older brother. The paint was peeling and the defrost button didn't work. I had to stick my head out the window during winter to see the road. Also, the passenger door wouldn't open from the inside unless you pulled the lever, lifted it just right, and banged the door with your elbow--all at the same time. It was a sign of true friendship if you could open that door; it meant you spent a lot of time driving with me in my horrible car! I named it "Platypus" because somehow it looked like one. I've never seen a car like it since! Everyone knew it was me driving that beauty around.

9. Your best friend falls and gets hurt. Do you ask if he/she's okay or laugh first?
Oh, no. David, are you trying to put me on the naughty list? Because I'd totally laugh first! I'm such a clumsy person that I find it hilarious when other people trip, stub their toes, and smack their funny bones. But if my best friend REALLY got hurt badly, I wouldn't laugh, I promise! *crosses fingers behind my back*

10. What's the worst song ever?
Anything by Aaron Neville. UGH! That nasty, nasal, overly warbled vibrato. It's fingernails on a chalkboard for me. It's shoving my finger down my throat. Nothing's worse! (Except maybe elevator jazz.)

**************

All right, David. I see where you're going with all this. These questions are all of the damning-me-to-the-naughty-list variety. I really am a good person. Can't you see the halo over my head?