Dorky Bios

I had to write a new author's bio for the Emerald City Writers' Conference, which is coming up in October.

I'm actually presenting a pitching workshop along with multi-published and RT award-winning author Pat White. See how cool Pat's stuff sounds? Well if you know Pat, you'd know how cool I think she is. Just last week she sent me this cool carnelian bracelet (for strength). I heart Pat White. And she's got the publishing creds, sure 'nuff.

As for my bio, I ended up writing something about the GH award and some factoids about things I love, ie. puppies, Heath Ledger and Nutter Butters. So uncool, right? But then again, if you know me, you know I live for the dorky stuff.

I mean, who else was putting on strawberry Bonne Belle lip gloss at the Golden Hearts? Who else recently wrote a letter in the form of a crossword puzzle? Who else goes to the movies alone on purpose? Yeah, um... big dork here raising her hand.

But here's the thing I've learned -- claim your dorkiness. Embrace it. How else (especially if you write YA) are you going to remember how it felt when you tried to HIDE IT back in the day?

*****

Okay, I've just reread this post. It's officially completely dorky. See, there is no escape.

Punch Duty

Ahh.... back from the wedding of the century and from the dreaded punch duty.

What did I wear? How nice of you to ask. A sparkly black skirt, white camisole, an aqua "librarian's" sweater with a pink and white rhinestone pin, and my golden heart shoes from last year. My mom said I looked pretty... serving punch. More about that later...

The wedding was really sweet. Hymns, scripture read by my uncle who has an amazing speaking style, and in a pink suit, my grandma Molly walking herself down the aisle.

I thought perhaps she'd ask someone to accompany her -- but she went it alone. How amazing it was to see her confidently stroll down that carpet, smiling at the man she loves! I hope I have that much spunk to do that for myself someday.

And truly, she's had to reinvent herself since my G'pa died. Learning to manage things alone, live by herself after all those years of marriage, see herself as a single senior woman -- my grandma did a fine job creating a single life for herself. I couldn't be prouder of how far she's come after losing a spouse.

So... back to the wedding and reception.

My cousin E. (the mastermind), sister B., and I were reception liasons of sorts. By the time we got to the buffet tables where the adorable cupcake wedding tiers, drinks, and snacks were arranged, people were already starting to flow in. B disapperared to take pictures, while E and I took our places behind the tables.

I started doling out cups of the frothy pineapple punch (note to Molly -- good non-staining color choice!) while E took cups of ice water to the frothing masses stuck at the back of the enormous line. She didn't want anyone to pass out at Grandma's wedding, after all. Pouring the cups of punch was a challenge with the big chunks of sorbet floating in it. A couple of times people seemed hesitant to take the sticky cups from me. I don't know why...

Anyway, when two full punch bowls were emptied and another cousin showed up to help with punch duty, things almost got ugly.

"What do you mean you're out of punch?" one oldster whined.

Yeah, um, I'm like a RELATIVE -- not a caterer girl! Do I look like I work here? I'm so getting a name tag next time I'm on punch duty. Wait -- no next time. I'll volunteer for something non-punch related.

Anyway, I flagged down the caterer, who then scurried away to whip up more pineapple froth. Left with nothing else, we handed out cups of ice water while getting dubious looks from people who wanted punch.

"People relax, the punch is coming, " I kept reassuring the crowd. Finally the punch arrived, and despite wanting to punch thirsty party-goers, we filled cups and smiled.

As the stragglers moved through the line, I looked at cousin E and said, "Enough with the punch duty. I'm taking you to eat a cupcake."

And we did. Chocolate. Yum. It was a good day. And I survived punch duty... just barely.

Granny Bride Again!

So, if you thought because of recent events I'd given up on love -- totally *not* true, by the way -- check this out...

My Grandma Molly, at age 83, is getting hitched tomorrow!

I know, right?

It's been a few years since my grandpa passed, and she finally met a really sweet, funny man at church who is also in his eighties. The man, that is, not the church. :)

The two of them will begin their wedded bliss tomorrow. As is the tradition, Grandma assigned us relatives jobs. I have to serve punch, which, if you know how graceful I am, will probably end up on my outfit.

Needless to say, I'm a torn about what to wear. Something cute... something fruit punch resistant... okay, honestly something I don't care about getting ruined. It may be a difficult morning rummaging in my closet.

But, by the end of the day I'll be raising a glass of punch (or wearing it) in honor of the happy graying couple. They give us all hope and belief in second chances. They give us corny jokes. They make each other incredibly happy. Here's to Molly and Don.

And long live love.

And the Winner Is....

Check it out...

Stephen is *the* Hottie of publishing!!!

Read the story at http://www.mediabistro.com/galleycat/

And the funniest part is, the picture could never even begin to showcase his charm, warmth and wit. He's a total sweetheart.

Now, I'm wishing I was the one who nominated him...

Hotties of Publishing...

Hey there,

I just learned that my agent is in the running in the coveted Hotties of Publishing poll over at Galley Cat. So, go vote for Stephen. This will definitely *not* go to his head or anything...

http://www.mediabistro.com/galleycat/

And he's a cutie, all right -- but I'm saying that in a quasi-professional evaluation kind of way, not a forbidden crush kind of way. :)

Plus, he's having a birthday! Yay! So, go vote for him.

Kryptonite

Hey, y'all --

Well, I'm still at the end of chapter one. So, I haven't made much progress in the last few days. Been thinking about what Susan Squires said in Atlanta, that if you write paranormal characters, try to give them "kryptonite". Something that can disarm them. Make them vulnerable.

So, in trying to figure out what my magic girl's kryptonite is, I pose this question:

What is your kryptonite?

Mine is....

I'm not sure. Maybe dogs? Every time I see a cute one up at my summer job on the lake, I melt. I miss my dogs so much. I call it getting "dogstracted" -- I have to stop what I'm doing and go pet the pooch.

Oh, also Nutter Butters. The world could fall around me and I would be happily dunking NB's into good, cold milk.

So.... post your kryptonite! I won't use it against you, I promise...

Bright and Dark

Back into the writing again. This is a good thing, since most of July I sat at the keyboard, as uneasy as Bambi on ice.

So, I'm writing light. A light, confection with a dark, dark hero you are going to love. The girl gets to be the star (of course) and the redeeming factor for said dark hero. It's set in Seattle, with a magical world simmering underneath the surface of things. Urban fantasy, I guess -- although I've also heard the term "slipstream" to describe the parallel magic and real worlds coexisting.

I'm working hard not to put too much parental angst into this one, as looking back on my other YAs they all have parent issues galore. And I adore my folks! So, what's up with that?

I think it has to do with the theme of self-acceptance and transformation, that bridge you cross from childhood into adult life, and dealing with parental issues is part of that journey. I'm so glad I've dealt (mostly) with mine. As an adult, I have great relationships with my parents, which have come only through honesty and communication. And with the present challenges in my life, I'm so glad I have them to talk with.

I think it's true that if you don't know history, you're doomed to repeat it. That counts doubly when it comes to parental stuff. You have to know what is in their baggage so you can unpack your own.

Wow. This got deeper than just a discussion of a WIP. Anyway, I've got pages to write. I want to have this proposal done by the end of the month!

Happy writing!

Monday in the Real World

So, I still haven't caught up on my sleep after the trip to ATL. Maybe it's just normal when you immediately have to jump back into work after a week-long conference trip where you basically:

A) Don't sleep 'cause you're too excited, or because you and your critique partner/roommate have waaaaaay too much to talk about. (Shh! Quiet time!)

B) Spend conference week constantly flat ironing your hair because of the humidity in the so-called air-conditioned hotel. (Yes, Dona and I had dueling flat irons.) Any time not spent flat ironing is spent obsessing about the need to flat iron. I know, right?

C) Eat strange and exotic foods from the Peachtree Mall and nibbles from receptions instead of real meals. You body knows nothing of time or appropriateness of food.

Actually, it's funny to have an appetite back after all this stress. Last night I caved and ate four Nutter Butters (the best commercial snack of all time) instead of the usual two. I'm slipping.

Speaking of food, I had a really memorable meal in Atlanta with my friends from Chicago North -- Flux YA author Simone Elkeles http://simoneelkeles.com and her group of merry friends and a couple of their agents. We ate at Hsu's restaurant (who knew they had good Chinese food in Atlanta?) and really had fun. Dona and I split noodles, and I had a great convo with Nadia, Simone's agent, who apparently knows my agent. It's a small world for these industry hotshots. :) Can I just say, I love, love, love Simone and it was so fun to hang out with her! Even better, Dona and I got to attend her and Nadia's workshop the next day and heckle her (not really) from the front row. What are friends for?

Another fun dinner was Saturday night before the Golden Hearts. Agency friend Jennifer joined me, Dona, and the Greater Seattle girls for dinner at Pacific Rim. Again, who knew about Atlanta and the Asian food? Anyway, we got Jennifer some spring rolls (before she started to gnaw on my elbow) and all was well. The girls surprised me with a red corsage, which really made me cry into my sushi. There are no friends like writer friends.

When Dona and I made it back to the hotel to change for the big night, another corsage was waiting for me -- the white roses from Pat White. I can't say enough about what a friend, mentor, supporter she has been for me. Thank God Chicago North has been kind enough to share her with me. I heart Pat.

Okay, so somehow this has turned into a recap post. So, I guess I'll just end with :

A) There was a chocolate fountain at the Golden Heart Reception. Alas, no romance writers cavorted within it. Disappointing, right?

B) My friends made me feel really special. Really, really freaking special.

C) The dress my Grammy helped pick out was beautiful. The shoes, while painful, were fabulous. I don't know if it was wise to lead off my speech complaining about them, though...

D) My critique partners back home are amazing and wonderful. And, Dona Sarkar http://donasarkar.blogspot.com is not only a great CP, she's a fashion goddess and stylist extraordinaire. (A woman who never irons!! How can this be?)

That's some of what happened in magical Atlanta. Okay, so most of it was about food. I have more stuff to tell you guys. I'll post later.

The Secret Life of Golden Heart Winners

So what is it like to be a Golden Heart winner? Uh... in a word, scary!

Here's one of the screens where the names of the finalist are ginormously projected. You clutch your critique partner's hand while she repeatedly tells you to chill. You try to chat up NYT best-selling authors seated around you. Okay, the editors sitting next to them, actually.




And here's the same screen where YOU are ginormously projected if you win. Of course you try to make it up to the podium gracefully in your new heels. You try to remember all the names of the people who've helped you. You work in the name of your great agent. You smile...? Okay, so you might forget to smile. You're just a tad bit shocked.

You spend nearly the rest of the ceremony snapping open and closed the case the Golden Heart comes in. Yes, it's real. You keep mouthing OMG at your lovely critique partner Dona. She keeps mouthing it at you. Afterward, you put that golden pendant around your neck, so now you're forced to stare into your own cleavage to admire it. Creepy, I know.

It's a lovely night involving chocolate fountains and drinks and calling your family to share the good news. It's almost as good as meeting MEG CABOT!

Heart of Gold

Okay, so you can totally Google me and read the good news. I won the Golden Heart for Best Young Adult Romance Manuscript at the National RWA Conference in Atlanta. Here I am with Simon Pulse author Jenn Echols after the ceremony, wearing the coveted charm around my neck. (Thanks to Stephanie Hale for the photo!)

Sadly, I have yet to buy a digital camera for my new place -- so I was stuck with a disposable version and a beautiful yet snap-happy critique partner Dona Sarkar. I promise to post those pictures as soon as they uh, get developed. So uncool, right?

Dona was so awesome as a roommate. Seriously, who else reminds a GH finalist to breathe? Who else leaps to their feet shouting, "It's you! It's You!" while you sit there in utter shock and (in your head) the room goes silent.

Who else comes up with the idea to handwrite *your* acceptance speech in case you might jinx yourself. Yeah, uh, last year, when I typed out the speech, pasted it to a pretty cardstock, decorated it with stickers? May have been a little jinxy...

It was a wonderful week spent in the company of so many fabulous, talented, resilient women. I'm so proud of Diana, Simone, Marley, Barb, and all the wonderful writers I know who are launching into their publishing careers full force. Remember, I knew you back when...

Oh, and in other news I got to meet my IDOL Meg Cabot. Yeah, um, total fan girl/stalker here. Again, uncool! But sometimes you just have to gush. It's good for the soul. Alas, no pictures of me with Meg -- which is probably good in case she wishes to press charges.