Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Nine-digit nincompoopery

Dear Scam-Artist-Telemarketers:
 I happened to have my ringer on this morning because I'm waiting for an important call from someone I care about. Yet you insist on barraging me (at this very second, by the way) with continuous calls from various nine-digit numbers or from numbers with area codes that don't exist. I haven't picked up because I know you are not someone I want to talk to. I'll tell you what I have done, however is I've filed a complaint with the FCC. I'm already writing, editing, emailing, tweeting, hooting, facebooking, blogging, planning, working, calling, negotiating, texting, juggling, scheduling, dancing, cleaning, organizing, struggling, visiting, driving, listening, talking, teaching, reading and whatever-else-ing. I just don't have time to %*#$ around with this $#!^. Neither does anyone else. I realize my efforts are likely futile, but it makes me feel better to know that the feds know about you. Enjoy your day.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

What writing meant to me

Been figuring out the whole twitter-verse thing and discovered a writing challenge I missed from Thom G (almost a year late is better than never, right?). Here it is: What does writing mean to me?

I feel like I need another ten months to come up with the answer. It's like those questions in a 5-year journal that a friend gave to me -- instead of writing what you did each day, you answer a question -- some kind of innocuous, like "East Coast or West Coast?" and some nearly impossible, like "What is true?" Then you compare how the answer changes over the five years.

My answer to this question has changed over the years too. I'm using 'writing' interchangeably with 'imagination' because so much of writing occurs before you ever pick up a pen.

It started early. For the most part it remained in the background, a tool for playground games, a sand bucket to form imaginary rules and shape scenarios. I played with neighborhood friends long past dusk, inventing wild adventures, protected from real ones. Everything was as it should be.

But as Janet Burroway will tell any fiction writer, Only trouble is interesting.

When I was ten years old we moved -- only an hour and a half away, same state. But it was a different place with a different mindset, and I went from being well-liked to the object of ridicule in a matter of days. Painful pre-teen years are almost a universal experience; more so when bullying is daily and damaging and continues for years.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Super Saturday

Super Saturday seminar in Seymour (say it fast) by YA author EM Kokie, who offered helpful tips on agent searches and some reinforcing, common-sense advice: No agent is way better than a bad one. Take your time. (Deep, refreshing breath.) Thanks SCBWI for arranging the session. Also happened to be the city-wide rummage sale, so Colleen Sutherland and I picked through some bargains. Found this awesome vintage Juice-O-Matic. Love its sleek silver design, though it's a little scary looking at the same time ("Alien" made of liquid metal? With citric acid for blood...)

Friday, May 18, 2012

Purple door

Enjoyed this post by Kristin Cashore on her love for independent bookstores and rant about ebooks. I do have a Kindle now and like it but I'm definitely of the same mind -- printed books provide a different experience. So do indy bookstores (re: chickens at Wild Rumpus. Which incidentally has a special purple door...)

Tuesday, May 8, 2012