hello, moon.

Wanna Win A (Super Kick Ass) Book ?

2012-01-25T07:22:00.000-08:00

Awesome news guys! Anyone who has read this blog for a long time might remember my then-pink-haired friend Kody. I was lucky enough to take one of the funnest trips EVER to visit her in NYC when her debut novel, THE DUFF, released.

-Kody and I almost three years ago at Dylan's Candy Store in NYC...THE GREATEST PLACE ON EARTH, PRETTY MUCH.-

Since then, Kody has released another book (SHUT OUT) and is only months away from the release of her third. Today, Kody is able to show the cover for her newest book, A MIDSUMMER'S NIGHTMARE, and is giving away a signed advanced copy. Head on over to her blog to enter for your chance to win it! (Plus, if you leave a comment and follow this blog, you get an extra entry!) Here's the cover, by the way- how awesome is that!?

Here's a summary of the book:

Whitley Johnson's dream summer with her divorce dad has turned into a nightmare. She's just met his new fiancee and her kids. The fiancee's son? Whitley's one-night stand from graduation night. Just freakin' great.

Worse, she totally doesn't fit in with her dad's perfect new country-club family. So Whitley acts out. She parties. Hard. So hard she doesn't even notice the good things right under her nose: a sweet little future stepsister who is just about the only person she's ever liked, a best friend (even though Whitley swears she doesn't "do" friends), and a smoking-hot guy who isn't her stepbrother...at least, not yet. It will take all three of them to help Whitley get through her anger and begin to put the pieces of her family together.

It's A Boy! :) :)

2012-01-17T07:53:00.000-08:00

We had an ultrasound yesterday and it was very easy to see that the baby is a BOY!

Oh hello Jude Michael :)

I'm still in shock. Before yesterday, if I had to guess the sex I would have said a girl. But during the ultrasound, I was able to recognize that it was a boy immediately, and just blurted out "OH MY GOD THAT'S A BOY" before the technician could even open her mouth. Then I just got flooded with all these thoughts- I was going to have a boy! A little brother for Lily! A little Eddie! Which all caused me to start laughing in a sort of creepy-hysterical tone while crying at the same time.

Good times.

Lily was there too. I don't think she quite understood what Mama and Daddy were cheering about, but she was more than happy to cheer right along with us. Last night I got all weepy while putting her to bed, because sometimes I seriously feel like her gender ultrasound could have been last week, and now she's two and in her big girl room in her big girl bed, singing along while I go through her favorite lullabies before sleep and demanding to watch Sesame Street as soon as she wakes up in the morning. And soon she's not just gonna be Lily anymore, but Lily the Big Sister. She'll always be my baby, no matter how big she gets. (Apparently she'll be old enough to DRIVE and DATE and LIVE ON HER OWN one day...but I'm pretty sure that's just a crazy ass rumor that people keep telling me to see me squirm.)

Either way, starting our own little family has been incredible so far, and I can only imagine how I'll feel once Jude is here to add his super-awesome-super-cute presence to the mix. Such love is so big and scary, but also the greatest feeling in the entire world.

Crazy Pregnant Woman Post

2012-01-10T08:52:00.001-08:00

Being pregnant is magical in the sense that in one moment you could be puking your guts out, only to need frozen gummy bears just five minutes later. SOUNDS LIKE FUN DOESN'T IT. (The frozen gummy bears have been abundant. I've eaten approximately five bags in the past couple of weeks.)

I've also eaten an entire pineapple in one sitting, as well as a bag of lime popsicles in two days. I've made a vanilla ice cream sundae and topped it with fresh bacon. I crumbled up the leftover bacon into a bowl of chopped up tomatoes and topped it with Italian dressing. I've eaten tomatoes with lime juice drizzled on top. I've sent my husband on runs to get Arnold Palmers and peach teas and french fries. I allowed my BFF to purchase twenty five dollars worth of Panda Express on a gift card just so I could stuff my face after not being able to eat for two days.

In other words....THIS BABY IS CRAZY AND IT'S TAKING ME WITH IT. Lily has actually started imitating the sound I make when I throw up when she's near a toilet. Yeah...nice.

At least I get to find out the gender in T minus six days.

Besides the foods, the pregnancy dreams have been in full swing. When I was pregnant with Lily, I had some truly freaky dreams. Well friends, the dreams are back, and just like last time they are freaking insaaane.

Like the one I had where I was at my own high school graduation again, except for that we all knew that we'd done it before so nobody took things seriously, and then the sky exploded into crazy asteroids and shooting stars and GIANT TAMPONS STARTED CHASING MY FRIEND CHELSEA. I am totally not making that shit up. Bobby Flay was there and he told me that my meatballs were 'okay, a little bland, but the short ribs were way better.' My brother-in-law was also there, except for that he was a zombie with gray paint smeared all over his mouth.

Yeah. And that's just one of them.

I'm in an icky sick-every-day phase right now, which isn't very pretty but I hope to see an end soon. Until then I'll continue drowning the sickies in A Baby Story, Baby's First Day, Teen Mom, and The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.

End ramble.

Bring It On 2012

2011-12-31T07:30:00.000-08:00

New Year's is just around the corner and I'll admit, last year I had a slightly more pessimistic outlook on the whole 'resolutions' thing. But this year I'm feeling way differently. Let's do this thing 2012!

Ten Things I Can't Wait To Do in 2012:

1) Meet my new sweet baby/become a mama of two! (My official due date is June 4th. We are finding out the gender on January 16th!)
2) Finish writing my fourth book. (A horror, spoooky! SO FUN TO WRITE/PLOT OUT.)
3) Witness Lily's transformation into Big Sister. She is so going to rock that casbah.
4) Keep trying to get published. (A little more patiently this year! Less worry more writing.) DREAM BIG OR GO HOME PEOPLE.
5) Watch proudly as my husband begins his radical new business adventure.
6) Practice watercoloring and other fun art things. Currently super-inspired by: deep space, the ocean, forests (always), insects (always), and candy. (NOT ALWAYS.) (Okay always.)
7) Read awesome new books and re-read old favorites.
8) My annual 're-arrange/organize the house' extravaganza. And when I say that I only do it once a year, I'm totally lying.
9) Try out new recipes to add to the Grimoire of Extreme Yummy-ness.
10) Doing cheesy and dorky things with my family of three. (Oooh yeah, in a matching-fanny-packs-at-Disneyland sort of way.)

Compared to this time last year, I feel refreshed, I feel excited, and I feel....hungry. Or maybe that's the baby telling me that it's time to go stuff my face with last night's Chinese.

May your new year be filled with color, beauty, and happiness.

Anything you guys are looking forward to in 2012?

My Kind of Christmas

2011-11-22T07:35:00.001-08:00

You can tell a lot about a person by what they use to decorate their Christmas tree. (If they celebrate Christmas at all, I mean.) I love seeing people's personalities come through in their trees- like my eccentric friend from middle school who had an aluminum metallic blue tree covered with green and white lights, or my sweet old Nonny with her gorgeous porcelain angel topper and handmade ornaments from when my brother and I were kids.

I personally love the tacky. BRING ON THE TACKY, BABY. I want rainbow lights, I want tinsel, I want very shiny ornaments made with glitter and thin metallic glass. I want candy canes and reindeer shaped candles and that plastic Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles ornament from when I was five. The topper needs to be a star, preferably made with some sort of hard shiny plastic, and covered in rainbow lights that match the tree. (Bonus points if it blinks!)

BEHOLD! The product of my deliciously tacky taste:

Lily is obsessed with it, to say the least. I keep finding strange items hidden inside the tree (usually around the same spot.) So far I've found a half eaten bread roll, a stuffed duck, a candy cane wrapper, and the ribbon I use to tie the curtains closed- all carefully tucked into the branches amongst the lights and ornaments. She also loves standing close enough to a glass ornament that she can see her warped reflection in it and give herself a kiss/quick chat.

We have a big Santa style bag in the back seat of the car filled with new toys to wrap and put under the tree. I'm really grateful to be able to have these, especially in a time where money sucks! (Does money ever NOT suck? I can't imagine such a world, haha :) )

I'm fourteen weeks along and already in my second trimester. (WHAAAT?!) It is so freaking true what they say about a second pregnancy in that it goes by much, much quicker because you are so focused on the little one already running around. Lily watches A Baby Story with me every week day, and every time it shows a baby she gets very excited and yells, "baby!" She's going to be such a great big sister. :) For now she's just anxious to see what all this Christmas fuss is all about!

Putting the tree up the day after Thanksgiving wasn't enough for me, of course. I also had to hang a glittery gold garland with ornaments on it all around the living room and insist on baking random things even when I don't have the ingredients for them. Like yesterday when I made sugar cookies, even though I had no butter like the recipe called for so I just used oil instead. For the record, they look incredible and taste terrible.

If you celebrate Christmas, what types of ornaments do you like to use on your tree? Any specific tastes?

Mmmmm. Turkey.

2011-11-21T08:46:00.000-08:00

I adored Thanksgiving. (The feeling of it, that is, not the history of it haha!) There's just something all too good about getting together with your family and having a huge delicious meal that makes the entire house smell like heaven for hours both before and after the bird has been carved.

I also love celebrating thankfulness. Deep down, I'm a really cheesy person in that way. I love the warm and fuzzies that holidays bring! (Proof: my Thanksgiving posts from last year and the year before. It's insane to read back through those. Some things have changed so much, and some things have stayed exactly the same.)

Here is this year's quick-list of things I'm thankful for:

1) A healthy heartbeat coming in loud and clear from Dragon Fetus 2.0 at the doctor's office. After about 30 seconds of terrible silence and searching. When she finally found it, it was so strong and consistent and totally made me tear up. IS IT JUNE YET?!

2) Being able to watch my Lily girl enjoy the holidays as a curious almost-two-year-old. Halloween was a blast, and so was Thanksgiving, and today when I put up the Christmas tree and started hanging decorations she couldn't stop squealing and running around with ornaments in her hands. While I assembled the tree, she patiently decorated our cat Frodo with tinsel. The look worked well for him.

3) Friends. The few close friends I have are so important to me. They keep me laughing always, support my dreams, and come over on Sunday nights to watch Walking Dead with me. (Hi, Nick!) I am so lucky to have as much support and love as I do from these people, both in real life and online.

4) My Crock Pot. Don't you laugh at me. I want to hug whoever invented this magical machine that lets me slow cook a roast for eight hours and fill my house with delicious smells.

5) Writing. Who would have guessed, right? But it's undeniably one of my most treasured aspects of life. I am so happy and lucky to be able to strive for a career that allows me to imagine, create, and simultaneously receive free therapy. It's my biggest dream in the world to become a published author, but even if that never happened I'd be happy just writing my way through these fun stories.

6) My love(s). On even the very worst of terrible, horrible, no good very bad days, when I feel all stressed or sad or unsure of myself, Edmund and Lily are always there for me to turn it all around. It means the universe to me.

7) Anyone who reads this blog. There are tons of writing blogs out there, and even more posts about what a writer should and should not be blogging about. Most of that advice discourages random, inconsistent, personal, boring-to-anyone-else-but-you posts, but I don't really give a shiz. I'm not using this as a platform for myself, and have only ever been interested in keeping a sort of online diary to record whatever the hell I'm feeling on any particular day. The fact that anybody reads it kind of blows my mind. So, if you're reading this, seriously- THANK YOU.

8) Candy. Enough said. I sort of have this theory that there is a raging sugar-deprived six year old inside of me that is forever trying to get out. And I am more than happy to quiet that six year old with Sour Punch straws, Sour Skittles, Jujubes, and peachie o's.

9) YA Highway. This awesome blog has welcomed me with open arms and I am overwhelmed by how supportive and kind they are. Girls, I admire you all so much. Seriously.

10) Books in the mail. When you're close to broke, buying new books is difficult. And by difficult, I mean impossible. I've been lucky enough to have different people send me books for free and those people make a bigger impact in my life than they probably know. Kody, Joanna, Dawn, Loretta, and anyone else who has ever sent me a book, THANK YOU. You rock.

So now it's official, Christmas season is here and I'm having a decoration celebration tonight, complete with cookies and cocoa and a few friends to enjoy it with. We even have candy canes to use as stirring sticks for the cocoa. Happy holidays, everyone! I'm sure this month will be filled with all sorts of fun seasonal stuff.

Surprise Money

2011-11-19T09:12:00.000-08:00

I always see movies and shows were people will randomly find a ten dollar bill or something like that on the street. And it's always gotten to me how they would only be mildly surprised, like, "Oh hey ten bucks! Sweet." Then pocket it and go about their business. I have always wanted to come across a random sum of money and then use it on something fun. TEN DOLLARS?! OH THE POSSIBILITIES!

I got really close one time, too. I was at Castle Golf, which was this really run down but equally awesome place in the next town over that featured a medieval themed arcade as well as themed mini golf, batting cages, bumper cars and bumper boats. (They've since torn it down and replaced it with a car dealership or something equally boring. BOO.)

Anyway, I was there with some friends doing the mini golf course. It was so cool, with little houses and windmills and bridges and pools with colored lights and a big waterfall. The very last hole was special- if you got a hole in one, you won a free game. When we got to the final hole, we noticed a pile of something on the ground in front of the hole itself. We went to move it and realized that it was a pile of MONEY. Eighty bucks, to be exact.

We all took turns freaking out a little bit, wondering if we truly had the guts to just take it. In the end, we didn't. I returned it to the girl behind the counter, who said that if nobody claimed it in four days it was ours. (Then she stuffed it in her pocket.) Needless to say, that's a phone call that never came.

So anyway, fast forward to the present. Yesterday, Edmund and I were literally turning our house upside down in search of my freaking birth certificate, (which of course we never ended up finding.) All closets, junk drawers, and desk drawers were completely gutted. We sat in dismay, surrounded by more random stuff than I could have imagined, including but not limited to a Legend of Zelda Pez dispenser, a Sailor Moon wall hang from my childhood, old manuscripts and revision notes, photos, photo albums, empty photo albums, old cassette tapes, a billion old journals and notebooks, boxes of empty files and envelopes, and art supplies/old pieces.

Then Eddie finds this random envelope, inside of which there was THIRTY DOLLARS CASH. Our first reaction was screaming "woo hoo!" and immediately plotting how we would use it. Our second reaction was guilt, because in all honesty there is most likely a bill (or two, or three) that it could help get rid of.

We ended up concluding that we would use it hand-in-hand with a Red Lobster gift certificate Eddie got for his birthday and go on a date. We haven't been able to go on one for such a long time, and yesterday was our fifth wedding anniversary, AND DAMN IT WE WANT TO GO EAT CHEAP ASS SEAFOOD AND STEAK AND CATCH A MOVIE WHILE WE'RE BEING WILD.

I have finally experienced coming across a random sum of money, and this time it feels a lot less sketchy and lot more WOOHOOOOOOO! So friends, surprise money has saved an otherwise routine, somewhat boring anniversary celebration. He had to work last night, so tonight is the big night. I have already decided to dress up to an embarrassing degree. I might even wear LIPSTICK.

So um, yeah. Heck yeah for tonight. :) Paranormal Activity 3! Eeeep!

First Drafts and Second Pregnancies

2011-11-15T08:06:00.000-08:00

Horror is baller. Why I hadn't considered writing young adult horror until somewhat recently, I have no idea. I definitely knew that I wanted to write horror one day, I even mentioned it to my agent when she first offered representation, but for some reason I always pictured it being adult horror. Probably because I want to BE Stephen King when I grow up, pretty much.

I've only just dipped my toes into the pools of horror and I'm already head over heels in love. It's fun in the same way as contemporary because you are building these complex, emotional characters whose stories could stand their own. Yet, the whole time you're building those characters you're doing your Vincent Price laugh because, well...they have no idea what sort of evil shiz is waiting for them just around the corner. You add little twists of dark. Ravens. Blood. A baby born with dead, fish-like eyes.

EEEEEEP! I kind of can't handle it.

I have such big dreams about writing horror. The fresh inspiration is WONDERFUL, even though Dragon Fetus 2.0 is causing some out of control morning/night sickness. Writing about a horrible illness while you're feeling sick is an interesting experience. Yuckkkk.

In other news, after much deliberation we have decided upon both a boy name (still the same as last time) and a girl name (same first name, different middle name) for the upcoming baby. Jude Michael and Norah Willow. HOLY AMAZINGNESS BATMAN. Can't wait to find out the gender. My first doctor's appointment is on Thursday, can't wait to hear that little heartbeat and get reminded that there IS a reason for all this throwing up and feeling blahlicious.

Lily has been wonderful for her sicky Mama. We've been doing lots of coloring lately, she's gotten very interested and dedicated to learning how to steady her hand. Watching her concentrate with such intensity as she struggles to color in Strawberry Shortcake's shoe or hair melts my heart. She loved getting her hand traced and coloring in her Thanksgiving hand print turkey!

Thanksgiving is coming up and I'm cooking for the family. I can't wait for the roasted bird, and green bean casserole, and mashed potatoes and gravy and Kentucky fried corn and pie. I get to use my mom's nice big kitchen, since last year there was a bit of a space issue doing it at our small condo. And you had better believe that the day after the mega feast I am putting up the Christmas tree and decking the effing halls out of our house. Lily is seriously going to flip out when we turn on all the lights for the first time, I plan on taping the reaction actually. It's crazy how extra warm and happy-fuzzy-feely holidays get when you have little ones!

Makes me all teary eyed. Or maybe that's just the nausea. ;)

The End of an Era, And Random Winter Food

2011-11-07T08:19:00.000-08:00

It's been almost two years since my husband took the 'freelance writing' dive and started working at home with me. And it's been a really fun, really lazy, really easy-going two years. We've gotten to watch closely as the Squidling ~~mutated~~ grew and somehow got even smarter and cuter by the day. But recently, two things popped up that forced Eddie and I to re-consider the situation:

A) Dragon Fetus 2.0
B) The oh-so-buzzed-about fall of the freelancing company we work for.

Luckily, I'm still able to write an okay number of articles and push through for partial income. But combined, we just wouldn't make enough to build up a savings before 2.0 arrives. And as someone who is very much in nesting mode already (seriously dude...I SWEPT THE FREAKING CEILING,) having a savings is not an option for matters such as this.

On the bright side though, Eddie only had to make a single phone call before he got a job, and was offered a promotion on his second or third day. (He's worked there before.) If all things go according to plan, he'll be able to return to freelancing when 2.0 comes. Things are working out great so far- we're both especially excited to have more money. Not gonna lie, we haven't been on a date in a looooooooooong time. RED LOBSTER HERE WE COME! Hahaha.

He also often works nights or early mornings, so he's still able to be with Lily quite a bit. Halloween was a freaking blast (check out the Squidling as Hello Kitty:)

(GAAAAH. Her cuteness is physically painful for me to endure sometimes. What a fun age for holidays- can't wait to make turkey hand print crafts with her this month for T-Day.)

So friends, it is the end of an era here in the Lukavics household, and the beginning of a new one. The weather seems to have decided to follow suit, as fall kind of ducked out early and is already getting replaced by winter in my little home town. It snowed a few days ago, then again last night, and it's even coming down right now in big fat flakes. Time to bust out the soup pots and baking dishes!!

A Totally Random List of Winter Foods That Keep This House Warm 'n Cozy

1) Pot roast stew
2) Green chili crock pot beef
3) Roasted asparagus
4) Mashed sweet potatoes
5) Homemade bread
6) Baked curried chicken and onion potatoes (all year round.)
7) Bacon and potato soup
8) Iced Christmas cookies
9) Cobbler
10) Hot cocoa with marshmallows

Ooooh heck yes. Bring on the maternity pants. This blog has definitely not seen the last of winter food. What are your faves?

Are You There, YA Horror? It's Me, Amy

2011-10-26T09:46:00.001-07:00

So far, pregnancy has consisted of food cravings and throwing up. Exciting, right? My recent trains of thought kind of go like this: YUCK, ooooh lemon cake, wow that couch looks so nice right now, OOH OOH black olives, but what about caramel chocolate, I WILL NEVER EAT AGAIN, oh geez the author of Imaginary Girls keeps mentioning vegetable lo mein and I MUST HAVE IT.

Apparently, pregnancy also makes you a spaz.

So wanna know something sweet? I'm writing a HORROR. Hells yeah! This will be book four, and something I'm doing for fun while my contemporary (book three) gets the let's-get-this-thing-published treatment.

I'm a huge, huge horror fan, and I feel like there's not a lot of classic horror in Young Adult right now. There's a lot of paranormal type stories, with ghosts that are characters and teens that have terrifying powers or "gifts," but I don't feel like there's a lot of random, straight-up terror a la Stephen King's It and Pet Sematary. I'd love to contribute some of this to the YA world! Now it's time to see if I can turn a terrifying vision into a quality project.

I've been working very hard on the outline, and now that I'm getting a little more used to feeling like I need a constant IV of peppermint herbal tea, I think I'm finally ready to take the plunge and whip this beast out.

I feel like I'm about to release the hounds! This will be the first time I focus on speed instead of just writing it at whatever pace tickles my fancy. I won't push it and sacrifice the quality, but I'm liking the idea of challenging myself and setting a goal for it.

Huzzah for horror. The television is loaded with it this month! The Walking Dead, American Horror Story, Stephen King, John Carpenter, Wes Craven, and a whole other slew of classics. I actually just recently wrote a post over at YA Highway about scary movies and October. One of my favorite times of the year!

Do you know of any YA horrors? I'm currently reading The Monstrumologist and it is blowing my mind into delicious, gory smithereens.

The Squidling Part Two- I'm Pregnant! (Again)

2011-10-12T08:37:00.000-07:00

I can't even believe I'm typing this.

Maybe I should have known when I had a craving for pot roast so strong that I wanted to KILL people when I didn't get it. Like, straight up homicide.

I took the test yesterday. I was eight days late but hadn't taken one yet, because, well....THEY ALWAYS SAY NO! Haha. The directions said that it'd take 60 seconds to 3 minutes for the results, but just like the first time I was pregnant that positive line showed up within seconds. BAM.

Suddenly, I was the only one on earth who knew I was pregnant. It felt kind of cool, but to be honest I couldn't get out of that bathroom fast enough. I actually tripped over my own feet while I was fumbling with my pants, which is classic Amy behavior I assure you. I tried my hardest to hold a straight face as I brought the test over to Edmund, but I crumbled about halfway and just got the biggest, STUPIDEST grin on my face. The grin pretty much told him, I saw the change in his eyes. After we briefly freaked out and got all teary eyed (ESPECIALLY watching Lily cheer with us and realizing that she was going to be a big sister...) and then Eddie called his mom.

I walked over in a daze to my computer and saw that Kody was online. I couldn't resist freaking out Intrawebz style with her while I tried to call my mom. Then it was a flurry of telling close friends and family members via email and phone.

We spent the afternoon having random outbursts, like, "Lily do you want a sandwich? AND OH YEAH GUESS WHAT THERE IS A BABY IN MAMA'S BELLY!" or, "Eddie, what did you want to do for dinner? Oh, and also, REMEMBER WHEN THAT ONE TEST SAID I WAS KNOCKED UP!?"

Aaah. Here it all goes again. I can't believe my little Lily is going to be a big sister. According to the Chinese Gender Predicting Chart, it's going to be a girl haha. I'd adore a boy of course, but I'd also love another girl before we had one. I WONDER!!

And of course, we have both names picked out because we're OCD like that- Jude for a boy, Nora for a girl.

EEEEEEEEEEP! I'm likely due at the beginning of June!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fall Foods: A Collection of Yum

2011-10-03T10:10:00.000-07:00

I love food in general, let's just throw that out there. I love cooking, I love eating, I love watching the Food Network to learn new tricks, and I especially love flipping through an interesting cookbook for new ideas and pretty pictures.

One of the best parts of fall is the delicious food that I get to cook up for comfort and to complement the amazing weather outside. (HURRAY FOR SWEATER AND SCARF WEATHER!) Even though I like to incorporate new recipes every year, there is definitely an always-delicious list of constants that like to make their appearances year after year.

At this house, the favorite fall recipes include:

-Sweet potato pie (ever since my amazing gal-pal Loretta shared the recipe for hers, I've been obsessed. It's amazing for breakfast as well as dessert.)

-Roasted pumpkin seeds

-"Fry chips-" (potatoes sliced very thinly, laid out on a baking sheet with slices of fresh garlic clove slices, drizzled in oil and sprinkled with good ole S&P and baked until golden. YOU'RE WELCOME.)

-Root vegetable beef stew

-Homemade bread

-Baked curried chicken and onion potatoes (DIVINE and simple.)

-Turkey burgers (to prepare us for the real thing)

-Roast turkey (to make the turkey burgers feel like shit about themselves)

-Caramel apples (easier to make than you'd think)

-Anything involving caramel and apples, really. Pie, mini pies, ciders. Does anybody else remember those too-good-to-be-true Caramel Apple Pops??

-Garlic mashed potatoes

-Candy from the bright orange plastic bucket shaped like a pumpkin that sits out for, um...trick or treaters. And mostly me. (This is another post of its own, seriously. When Halloween gets nearer I am SO doing a post all about Halloween candy.)

Nom nom nom nom. What are your favorite fall foods and drinks? Any easy recipes you wanna share? (I'll give away my curried chicken and onion potatoes recipe in return, in the form of a photo-post.) ;)

Old Is Young Is Not Old Is WHATEVER.

2011-10-01T07:40:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to feel "old." This is crazy talk, I get that. But I don't feel old in the same depressing way that those spray tanned 50 year olds with hella Botox and cut-off denim booty shorts do. I feel "old" as in "you're a legit adult now, yo." It's really exciting.

Tomorrow is my birthday (yaaaay!) and I'm going to be 24. And my husband just turned 29! WE'RE ALL OLD AND STUFF! I can already hear some of the over-24 readers yelling at me to STFU through the computer screen. I just feel like Edmund and I have had such a ridiculous journey so far.

Not to be lame, but it seriously feels like yesterday that I was 18 and he was 23 and I was still in high school. I'd go to his house EVERY DAY after school/work and stay there until about 3AM, even though my curfew was 11. Oh, and also, that one time where he accidentally fell asleep at my house and spent the night. We woke up in a panic because my mom was yelling up the stairs, "Amy, do you have a ride to school?" Ummmm...yes mother. Yes I did. He was in my room with me. Shit! So we waited until we thought we heard her door closed, then sneaked downstairs. We were so close to freedom....then we turned the corner and almost RAN INTO my stepfather. I'll never forget his face when he processed what he was seeing, then said, "Mornin', kids."

Then I remember when I was 19 and he was 24. We were engaged and everybody thought we were fucking crazy. My family thought I was making a horrible decision, my friends thought I was hiding a pregnancy and/or making a horrible decision, the whole lot. I knew that I wasn't. They'll just have to see, I thought. They'll just have to see. I said "I do." My life changed.

Then I was 21 and he was 26. I found out I was pregnant after trying for six months, something else the people in my life thought was crazy for doing. The moment where I knew that I was pregnant was both happy and nervous. Happy because we wanted it so bad, and nervous because we were broke as hell. I didn't have a job. He had a shitty one. We lived in a no-rent one room guest house in exchange for taking care of the Horses from Hell. But when I woke up the morning after finding out I was pregnant and found Eddie just watching me, with this look on his face that I can't even describe, I knew that everything would be okay. A close friend moved out of his kick ass condo and offered it to us. We moved in. I got an agent. My life changed.

Before I knew it, I was 22 and he was 27. I was in a hospital bed, writhing in what I can only describe as the worst pain I have ever felt in my life, cursing the effing epidural for deciding to stop working right when it actually mattered. My mom was freaking out, the nurses were telling me to push harder. I was pushing as hard as I could. It wasn't good enough. The doctor threw out the word "c-section." Eddie's face was right next to my ear, and suddenly the only thing in the entire universe was his voice. "You're doing perfect," he whispered. "You're doing great. Everything's okay. I'm right here." Seconds later we were both crying and feasting our eyes upon the warm, slippery Squidling that came out in one single push. She didn't cry, Lily. She was so calm and content right from the get-go. My life changed.

And, here I am. About to turn 24. My Lily Mila is almost two. TWO. WTF. She walks and talks and tells me that she loves me. She kisses me and hugs me and gets more excited about Lady Gaga and puppies and cookies than I do, a feat that is not so easy. And every time I see a baby on TV or in the store, I get all "awwwwwww" to an embarrassing degree. I can't wait to see how my life is going to change next.

Bring it on, life. I've got all the strength I need to make it through you, in the form of that crazy Edmund kid who decided to forget what his friends said and decided to date that high schooler anyway.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a super work day today because tomorrow is all about a BBQ and a party afterward, with the best friends ever and yellow cupcakes with homemade buttercream frosting and drinks laced heavily with tequila. I have so much to celebrate about.

The Early Bird Gets The....Day Off?

2011-09-20T07:42:00.000-07:00

Let's just be clear on one thing: I am NOT a morning person. Like, not even a little. I defy science in the fact that it doesn't matter how much sleep I've gotten, I'll still gladly take more at any given time. (By the way, this'll be two blog posts in two days. That's gotta be a personal record, haha.)

Take right now, for instance. It's seven thirty in the AM, and here I am, typing up a blog post with only half a working brain while Lily sits on my lap and watches the music video for Single Ladies in the other internet window. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Squidling. Mama is dreaming about hitting herself in the head with a hammer and sleeping it off for a few hundred days.

Alright, my disdain for morning is clear. So imagine my surprise when I realized that doing my freelance work right off the bat when I first wake up is actually....really amazing. HELL HATH FROZEN OVER, DEAR READERS.

It's true. The motivation of being able to be completely free for the remainder of the day has pushed me to begin getting my articles out of the way immediately. The results have been favorable, as I am now able to give in to The Inner Lazy And/Or Creative by ten am. It sort of makes every day feel like a day off because I don't have it in the back of my head that I'll have to work later. Also, sitting at the computer rambling off about How To Use Purple Eyeshadow kind of lets me wake up vvveeeeeerrrrrryyy slooooooowly. Which is always appreciated, right?

So, I can't believe I'm agreeing with this, but I guess the early bird really does get the worm. It totally frees my mind up for whatever activities I'm currently caught up in that I can catch up on when Lily takes her nap. At the moment, those activities are limited to playing Mass Effect 2, (BRILLIANT GAME,) writing up the final synopsis for my new novel, (a HORROR. Helllls yeah,) and catching up on my Desperate Housewives and/or Breaking Bad.

I can totally dig it.

Are you a morning person? A night owl? Any tips for awakening the inner morning person?

Getting There

2011-09-17T10:37:00.001-07:00

What would it be like to be a published author? To see your cover for the first time? To hold the real thing in your hands, and open the pages, and smell them while you flip through and get all nerdy-excited that IT SMELLS LIKE A REAL BOOK! What would it be like to receive an email from a reader that thanks you for writing it? What would it be like to win an award, or be nominated for one, or sit at a table and sign copies until your hand hurt?

These are the things I most often wonder right before I go to bed. I imagine how awesome it'd be, how surreal, how too-good-to-be-true. I imagine having the career of my dreams- one that allows me to live at home with my family in a home that I own and travel because I am being paid to do my favorite type of art.

Still, just ask any published author, and they'll tell you. "It's not all glamour. It's hard work, and things that you don't expect happen all the time, and it can get really upsetting at times."

There are other things to consider about becoming an author besides signings and events and advances and covers. There's tough edits, and deadlines. There's bad reviews, and there's REALLY bad reviews, and there's small advances, and there's the possibility that the book will be a flop and make it really hard to ever sell another, there's the possibility that you'll get the fuzzy end of the lollipop and end up hating books forever and ever and ldfkja;dflkajdfkajdfakjdfa.

Oh, authorly problems. I dream of having those, too. Haha! A writer friend of mine recently said that if I got published, the one star reviews would hurt a lot more than I'm anticipating. That's probably true, but at the moment all I can think about is, "Someone I DON'T KNOW read MY BOOK and had EMOTIONS stirred up to the point that they had to COME ONLINE AND RAGE ABOUT IT?!" Fuckin' boss!

I've noticed lately that I've stopped posting blogs that voiced my fears and wants when it comes to being a writer. When I first started out, I held nothing back. I didn't have an agent, or a baby, or any idea what I was actually doing besides having fun and following my dream. Whenever I look to the first few posts of this blog I trip out. I've changed so much, my life has changed, and so has my writing, but the dream is the exact same.

If I could somehow go back and tell The Amy of 2009 anything in the world, it would be that publishing is slow, and that her writing needed a lot of work and that she really, REALLY needed to accept the fact that it would probably take a handful books before she saw one on the shelves. I would have told her that it'd be a long journey, one that took extreme amounts of focus and dedication (the one thing that her OCD would make easier,) and that she'd need to learn to roll by the punches and allow herself to get better. That Amy would have been kind of bummed. Insanely bummed, actually.

But then I'd hug her and give her a high five, because her overly-ambitious attitude and stubborn tendency to NEVER give up would be what scored her an awesome NYC literary agent that encouraged and supported her, and the opportunity for both her and Edmund to work at home as freelance writers and stay with The Squidling.

At this point, Past Amy would probably die over the fact that Future Amy refers to her daughter as The Squidling. But that is neither here nor there.

So, anyway. Reading all my old posts inspired me to allow myself to open up a little bit more, even if I feel nervous or sick to my stomach at the idea of creating a potential in-depth chronicle of failure. Because, if it goes right.....

Well. Let's cross that bridge when we come to it.

Hurray for Autumn!

2011-09-09T09:29:00.000-07:00

Fall is coming! Fall is coming! Hats! Scarves! Coats! Cider! Carving pumpkins! Roast turkey! Soups! Stews! Homemade bread! Blankets! Leaves! Crisp, amazing-smelling air!

Okay, I'm sorry, I totally just abused the exclamation point beyond repair. I'll try to keep calm the rest of the time.

There are a billion reasons why I'm ecstatic for fall and winter, but I'll throw out the major ones:

Writing reasons. For those of you who have been wondering why I haven't mentioned my writing projects in awhile, it's because I'm finally at the point where I shouldn't anymore for the sake of importantly things! In case you can't tell, that is very good news. AND THAT'S ALL I'M SAYIN'.

Holiday Reasons. In my family, September kicks off what my family refers to as the Super Block. September is Sir Edmund the Hotness's birthday, October is mine and also harbors the KICK ASS Halloween, November will be our fifth wedding anniversary, December is Lily Mila's birthday and Christmas, then comes the ever-forgiving New Year. Throw in 'we've been trying to have a baby for five months now' into the mix and hopefully there'll be some good news sometimes in that Super Block.

Food Reasons. Don't laugh at me. This is one of the biggest selling points of both winter and fall. I get to dust off the bread machine and fire it up to accommodate all the delicious root-vegetable dishes and soups and stews and roasts that I will be preparing. It also means lots of baking and roasts, which let's face it, creates a heavenly smell and transforms the home into a warm, cozy cave of deliciousness.

Lily Reasons. Last year Lily was too little to fully enjoy all the excitement- we went trick-or-treating with her, which she LOVED, but of course she couldn't walk herself and ended up passing out on Dada's shoulder at the end of the lane. This year I'm so excited to see her walk herself to trick-or-treat, open her presents, play in the leaves and snow, and blow out her birthday candles.

Cleaning Reasons. Not gonna lie, my OCD takes a big old sigh of relief every time a new season rolls in because I, like any other overly-neurotic stay at home Mama, like to go a little crazy with the cleaning/organizing/rearranging. I gotta prepare the place for all the decor it'll endure during Christmas, right? Lights! Candles! Treeeeee! Okay, there I go with the exclamation points again.

Selfish Reasons. Like the fact that fall fashion is the type that my body is the most compatible with. Or how one of my most favorite things in the entire world is writing or reading near a window when it's snowing outside. Or how fall crafts are to die for. Or how OBVIOUSLY the fact that fall is here means I can bake a sweet potato pie and annihilate that mofo in just a few days.

Those are my biggies. What are your favorite aspects of your Chosen season? Anything you're particularly looking forward to in the up and coming months? Lemme know! (Also, HELLO NEW FOLLOWERS! Welcome welcome welcome.)

Give Me The Simple Life

2011-08-30T08:30:00.001-07:00

It occurred to me recently that during the most stressful times of my life, I am deep in my own head, battling myself over this issue or that one. Sometimes it makes the world seem so heavy, and the air around me gets all thick with the worry of ending up in all these different potential futures, all of them different from the one I dream of having.

For me personally, the thought that'll trigger it every time is "what if I never sell a book?" I'm getting so close guys, I can almost taste it. Because there's not a plan B for me, and I refuse to make one. Isn't that dangerous? Following your dream is brave and takes a lot of guts, yeah, but does it also require a certain degree of stupidity? Probably, haha. But whatever, I'm totally down to die trying!

Anyway, I've tried to do this thing lately where I force myself to come back to the present. I try to pound into my OCD head that there's only so much I can control...which is actually very little, and honestly guys? Appreciating the simple things kind of makes everything better.

Life is what happens while you're busy making plans, right? It takes a surprising amount of effort to just RELAX. For reals relax, personal happy place style.

So I kind of started paying attention and listing the kick-ass things that can make life awesome on an instant basis. Ready? (And I'm dying to see your lists in the comments!)

1) Oreos and peanut butter. Not too much peanut butter, but probably about the same amount as there is filling. Resist the urge to just scoop out a tablespoon of PB, which is what I often do and end up with a mouthful of what seems like crunchy peanut butter. The balanced version though, OH LORDY.

2) Liquid eyeliner. I'm starting to think that I'll still be rockin' the cat eye when I'm, like, ninety.

3) The fact that my daughter is just as much of a klutz as me. I probably shouldn't be so happy about this. I should probably feel bad for my poor, clumsy little Lily Mila. But I don't. Maybe misery loves company. Maybe it's just really, REALLY cute and makes me feel less bad about my own clumsiness.

4) My new and shiny library card. Which may or may not be in my mother's name. Shhhh. The current bounty includes Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult, Full Dark No Stars by Stephen King, Someone Like You by Sarah Dessen, How The Light Gets In by MJ Hyland, and This Is How by MJ Hyland.

5) The Beatles, Lady Gaga, Modest Mouse, Sigur Ros, Simon and Garfunkel, Nicki Minaj, Damien Rice. Inspirational overload.

6) Autumn. It's not that time yet, but I'm getting very eager. I live in an amazing small town that puts out for all four seasons. Bring on the gorgeous colors, homemade pumpkin seeds, scarves, roast turkey, cider, and playing with Lily in the leaves.

7) Bacon from behind the big glass meat counter at the grocery store, instead of the packaged stuff. Make a BLT with avocado and red onion, and never underestimate the power of a truly delicious sandwich.

8) Black, purple, or super dark red nail polish. Ooh ooh, or glitter polish.

9) Disney movies. I've given them shout outs before, but since then I've seen Tangled! HOLY SHIZ. I can't wait to take this Squidling to Disneyland one day. It'll pretty much be the best day ever.

10) Allowing myself to blog about personal things. Whether it be about body image, my tattoos, bisexuality, celebrating mommyhood, or this post right here. I've realized that you only get out of blogging what you put in. While it's scary to put yourself out there, doing it makes you feel better and creates less-boring, less-forced posts.

So how about you guys? What are your pleasures in life that have the power to relax you beyond their simple exterior? Have any suggestions? Let's swap some good times!

Pieces of Yesterday

2011-08-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, I was huge on journaling. I loved being able to just say whatever I wanted without worrying about the consequences. (Although after I saw the movie Harriet the Spy I definitely became more paranoid about hiding my diary in a very safe place. AKA behind my stereo. The same stereo that I hid my progress reports from school in, folded and stuffed into the compartment where the batteries were supposed to go.)

Anyway, I recently dug out my old journals and exposed some of the more, um, entertaining aspects of them over at YA Highway. There is Lisa Frank and a snippet of Harry Potter fan fiction, people. It's bad.

Happy Birthday Kody Keplinger!!

2011-08-08T00:00:00.000-07:00

So back in 2008 when I finished writing my first book, I went looking for information online about query letters and found the website Absolute Write. I posted a few snippets of my work and read around the other samples there.

One particular user, who was posting AMAZING snippets for some project called The Duff, started commenting on my snippets.

That's how I met Kody Keplinger.

Years later, both Kody and I are agented (we have the same agent even!) and her second book is about to come out. I traveled to New York City for the release of her first book, The Duff, and she'll be flying out to Arizona this September to visit us and meet the Squidling for the first time. Kody has been such a supportive friend since the beginning of my journey, and even though I'm not published yet, I hope that one day she'll have the opportunity to come to my own first book launch party. She's pretty ballin', if I do say so myself.

So, here's the thing guys. Kody turns twenty years old today.

And she's wiggin' out a little. She loved her teenage years a lot and is quite bummed to be officially out of the "teen" stage in her life, so I'm here to tell Kody in front of the world that being in your twenties freakin' ROCKS!

Being an adult can be scary sometimes, but the pay-off is beyond great, and in the end age truly is only a number. So don't be bummed Kody, be excited to enjoy yourself in this great big world.

The end of an era only means that another one is beginning, my friend. TIME TO CELEBRATE!!

Just wait till you turn twenty one, girl. WE WILL PAINT VEGAS RED DO YA HEAR ME?!

Body Image and Having a Baby

2011-07-31T20:52:00.001-07:00

I mentioned in an earlier post that Edmund and I are opening the doors to a new potential pregnancy. We're not living around calendars or ovulation charts or anything, but I've still spent the last couple of months mentally preparing myself for pregnancy in case it does happen.

So I thought all about all of it- the sickness, the discomfort, the heartbeat, finding out the gender, everything. I even read back on some of my old blog posts (which was both amusing and....embarrassing) and got a few laughs. But it was like there was an elephant in the room that I wasn't acknowledging to myself, something that's crucial and important to address, yet I still chose to ignore it.

Shitty body image.

I've had it for a long time, as long as I can remember actually. (And that's a whole other can of worms that could make up a billion whiny blog posts. I definitely want to write a body image themed book some day.) It's something my friends roll their eyes at, something my husband desperately tries to convince me against. I'm sure my body issues are not unique, but it doesn't make them hurt any less, and picking myself apart OCD style in front of the mirror is something I fight against every day.

I've said it before: parenting and writing are alike in the fact that the best way to do it is to show and not tell. I knew when I decided to try and get pregnant the first time that I was committing to being an example to my children. I'd have to show them how to be kind, and strong, and empathize for the pain of others. Not some of the time, not most of the time. All of the time.

Body image, I convinced myself, would be the one exception. The thing that I'd have to fake, the dirty secret that I would not allow to transfer over to my kids. It's not possible to just fix yourself, right? So the best I could do was put on a show, and keep my issues behind closed bathroom doors for the rest of my life.

It was a hypocritical decision, but that didn't stop me from doing it since Lily has been born. And looking back, how stupid was I- obviously she wouldn't notice anything at the age of two months.
But then something happened, a few days ago.

I was getting dressed in my bedroom, doing this thing where I try to adjust my waist band perfectly over the pudge on my tummy to make my torso look smoother. I was tugging at my shirt, desperate to make it look looser, because I was convinced that I looked disgusting.

I didn't notice Lily walk in behind me. I didn't notice her observing me in wonder. And when I did notice, when I saw her reflection standing behind me in the full length mirror, I jumped about a foot, which made her jump about a foot and then proceed to burst into laughter. She's only 19 months old, so she had no clue what she'd really seen, but I was fucking shaking.

She thought it was a game, and started gleefully tugging at her shirt. Smiling, I snatched her up, hugged her and kissed her, sent her to her toy box and Daddy in the living room, and went into the bathroom and cried. Hard.

This isn't something I can fake. And if I'm wanting another baby, it's something that needs to be fixed soon. I owe it to everybody, Eddie, my kids, myself.

So I look at old pictures of myself, pictures where I distinctly remember thinking that I looked fat or ugly in when they were taken, and note in fascination how from years in the future, that girl looks just fine, pretty even. And I watch reality shows like Heavy, and Biggest Loser, and feel ashamed of myself and just how "huge" I really think I am.

My biggest fear in life is regret and not feeling satisfied with my efforts if I were to die today. Accepting that I need to do it for myself as much as Lily and my future kids is so hard, but I can do it, and I'll be damned if I don't die trying.

And if I can do it, shit girl, trust me when I say: ANYONE can. Repeat after me: relax, enjoy. Relax, enjoy. Relax, enjoy.....

My First Ever YA Highway Post!!

2011-07-30T16:03:00.000-07:00

Hellz yeah.

This group has been amazing so far, and I'm very happy to have the opportunity to contribute to such a kick ass blog. My next post over there will be on August 1- I got to read and review CLEAN by Amy Reed!!!

The Art of Dreaming

2011-07-29T09:35:00.000-07:00

Why is it that some people are able to follow their biggest dream, their heart's greatest longing, with everything they've got, while others find that settling for something a little bit different just might be worth not having to tolerate the ongoing fear of failure?

Something happens when we finally reach the official 'adult' stage of our lives: we start feeling this pressure of what we're supposed to be, and little by little, the hopeful ambitions of childhood are transformed into something a little more.....believable. Dreams of achieving the big thing, your it, your deepest desire, fizzle into something that starts to feel a little like a life running on auto-pilot.

So we daydream.

We stare into space after learning that there is not enough money to pay a bill, daydreaming of a future where finances are comfortable, and of the things we'd be able to do if that stress were to just disappear. We'd have time to pursue hobbies. We'd have time to enjoy the small things.

And we lay in bed at night, imagining what it would be like to get a book published, imagining working at home and enjoying the world how it was meant to be enjoyed, with walks and star gazing and roasting marshmallows with your family.

We imagine success. We create pretend scenarios in our heads, leaving out not a single detail, and bask in the pulsing feeling of a truly happy heart.

We know exactly how we want our lives to turn out, but there is a very easy-to-make mistake that take away a person's chances of achieving their dream, just like that, turning the daydream into a fantasy.

Sometimes, it's easy to believe that the intensity of our want for something is somehow correlated with the chances of actually getting it. It's an easy mistake to make because the passion is so fierce, spiritual almost, that it has to mean for something, right?

It does, more than anything really, but it is only one of two mandatory pieces of the puzzle. The other piece is action, genuine action, the kind where you figure out how to zoom your perspective out enough to know the reality of what you have to do to achieve your dream. Learning the necessary steps, figuring out what you have to bring to the table, and most importantly, knowing that you're capable of doing it.

When I was unagented, the dream sort of ended with getting an agent, because I couldn't even comprehend anything happening past that. I focused all of my daydreaming on getting 'the call,' telling all my friends that I'd gotten an agent, telling my family that I'd hopefully be published soon. So when I actually got my agent, my mind had nothing to strive for, and I believe it may have negatively affected my ability to revise my novels with my very best efforts.

Half assing things we're afraid of is so much easier, but in the end, it will not yield the result that you imagined before drifting off to sleep at night. You have to give your best, you have to be your best, because in the end it's that type of effort that will leave you feeling the best about yourself. And you have to feel good about yourself, even if just a little, if you want to take things to the next level.

In truth, I'm a raging daydreamer and always have been. I distinctly remember fantasizing about what it would be like to be an author when I was very small, but it was never a notion that I nurtured out of my subconscious until much later in life. And once the dream was born, it never let up. If you have obsessive compulsive disorder, you know what it's like to be every detail in your thoughts, instead of just thinking about them. After awhile, the fear of failure becomes less intense until the bars are just wide enough for you to wriggle through.

Then the battle begins- persistence, positive thinking, honing your writing craft while still providing quality work for your potential future career. Yeah, it's scary. It's scary as fuck.

But when it gets intense, when the doubt starts giving you sore shoulders and crappy chapters and an extra ten pounds from all the nervous snacking you've been doing, there is a way to wipe the slate clean and remember your ultimate goal.

Daydreaming lets you go back to that place of success, gives you something to hope and work for.

For me, it's a big beautiful home in the woods, with tons of windows and a fireplace and a kitchen that always has something delicious bubbling on the stove. It's working at home, traveling often, and enjoying my time with my love and our Squidlings.

Cheesy? Hella. But it got me to where I am today, and I have a feeling that it will help determine where I'm going tomorrow.

What is your biggest dream?

Middle School Flash Back

2011-07-22T12:59:00.001-07:00

So, middle school was a pretty, um, interesting time for me, to say the least.

One of my favorite memories of my childhood was shared over at Stasia Kehoe's blog today. Enjoy!!

The Incident

2011-07-16T12:11:00.000-07:00

I'm writing this post from an Open Office doc, because today our cable company is having “shortage problems in our area” and we've spent the entire day with no phone or internet. (We only have a land line. This was one of the rare times I wished I had a cell phone!)

Since both of our freelance jobs require internet service, we've pretty much spent the day hanging around, cleaning, and eating turkey green chili tacos. We also watched lots of TV and introduced the Squidling to Phantom of the Opera....she loved it!

So anyway, why is it that we always have to learn lessons the embarrassing or hard way to make them really stick? I've mentioned in past blog posts about how I like keeping my house organized and rearranging furniture and stuff like that, but there is something I didn't mention in my posts- the deep dark secret that was the inside of my bedroom closet. No, I mean it literally. The laundry/junk pile inside of it was both deep and dark, sitting behind the closet door that could only open a foot or so if you tried to open it.

You see, this nightmare of a laundry pile was so massive, so huge, that by the time I made my way through it and got to the bottom, there was a freaking BURP CLOTH IN THERE. I know, dude. My daughter is one and a half. I also found an infant sized onesie in there that pretty much blew my mind, since Lily could probably use it as a thigh high now.

Speaking of infants, I totally blame the Squidling for this clothing version of a rat king inside my closet. (If you don't know what a rat king is, you probably shouldn't Google it or you'll hate me forever. If you do know what a rat king is, you just got the perfect visualization of the inside of my closet.) The clothing pile started when we got home from the hospital with her, and soon built up enough to not only filled our massive hamper, but spill over it to form a giant ass dome about three feet deep.

We totally just adjusted our lives around this closet full of clothes, and soon other random junk like Halloween costumes and comic books and an old trunk filled with old X-Men action figurines somehow made their way in. Like I said, you couldn't even open the door. It's like the closet became this thing that I could hide/stuff anything in if someone was coming over last minute and I needed to pick up. Of course, once it entered the closet, it was as good as gone, unless it was on the very top.

It was working out for us okay, I guess. Until....the incident.

The incident. The one that finally forced Edmund and I to go through this closet and face the nightmare. There have been workers digging trenches outside of our condo for the last week or so. They were doing something with the water, and the other day a worker unexpectedly knocked on our door and asked if he could come in and look in the crawlspace under our house for a pipe or something.

The crawlspace door is on the floor of my closet. So basically, Eddie had to force the closet door open enough to step inside, and pull ALL of the stuff out into our bedroom so the guy could take a look at whatever he needed to. Obviously, I hid in the bathroom the entire time he was in here.

So...yeah. After (seriously, at LEAST) ten loads of laundry, the closet looks like this, and it's been kind of incredible. I've been complaining about not having a lot of clothes, but that's because I was wearing the same five things for the whole year! I feel like I've gone on a shopping spree, haha.

I also found this awesome canopy and hung it in the living room over the Squidling's play area:

What's the moral of the story? I have no idea, man. Clean your closet, I guess, because you never know when a random worker is gonna come take a look inside of it. Or something like that.

HELP ME YOU GUYS, THIS IS WHAT BECOMES OF ME WHEN THERE IS NO INTERNET. I write about freaking closets.

Video Game Review: Alice- Madness Returns

2011-07-10T11:21:00.000-07:00

You guys, I have come across a video game that was so awesome, so deliciously dark and gorgeous and creepy, that I knew within the first twenty minutes of playing it that I wanted to write a review. Allow me to introduce you to a very dark Alice in Wonderland themed masterpiece called:

Alice: Madness Returns

Game Type: Single Player, Platform

The game takes place in two different worlds- reality and wonderland. You play as a character named Alice Liddell, who has been living under the care of a hypnotherapist who specializes in stifling the unpleasant childhood memories that make children go mad. As this game is a sequel, the story picks up eleven years after Alice's release from the insane asylum, where she was sent after her entire family died in a house fire.

After Alice is sent to the store for some medication, she begins hallucinating and soon falls completely into Wonderland, which in this case is a direct reflection of the instability of her mind. A potentially beautiful place is being demolished by a terrifying train that leaves all sorts of destruction in its path. This ain't yo mama's Wonderland. (LOL. Sorry. It was too fun not to.)

Searching through Wonderland and trying to kill off the things that are ruining Alice's mind is fascinating. Visually speaking, the game is stunning- more than once I found myself spending minutes just looking around at the scenery and taking in the creepier aspects of it. At the beginning of the game, I was much more sold on the visuals and game play than the story. As the story went on, though, I started developing theories and getting more eager to uncover the next clue as to what really happened to Alice's family.

I completed this game on the Hard setting, and I have to say that the battles definitely lived up to the name. I had more than my fair share of dying, but it never got hard enough to switch it back down.

The fighting in this game was delightfully similar to The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time for the good ole N64. Enemies can be targeted and destroyed using various weapons Alice acquires in her journey, although some enemies can only be killed by certain items. The enemies themselves are vicious- teapots that shoot boiling tea, doll heads that tear you apart, etc. etc. etc.

There are four different weapons available for Alice to use: the Vorpal Blade (my personal fave,)the pepper grinder (to season your enemies, of course,) a hobby horse (great for smashing through things,) and of course a teapot cannon (boiling tea does wonders to an undead Queen of Hearts card soldier.) There are also mad hatter bombs and a pretty little umbrella that makes for one hell of a shield. You buy upgrades using teeth that are collected while exploring levels and killing enemies.

As this game is a platform, there is a lot of skilled jumping to be had, and it's a damn good thing Alice's various (and AMAZING) Wonderland dresses all have skirts that help make long, floating jumps possible. You are also able to shrink at will, allowing you to climb through keyholes and see otherwise invisible clues to bonus items.

There are many classic Wonderland characters seen in this game- the Mad Hatter, the caterpillar, Cheshire Cat, Queen of Hearts, even Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Seeing the dark and twisted character designs was so inspiring and interesting.

Needless to say, I think I have found this year's Halloween costume.

(For some horrible reason, Blogger isn't allowing me to attach images to this post.)

Fun Announcement! (and other random news)

2011-06-18T09:52:00.000-07:00

I am so happy to announce that I have been asked to join the freaking AWESOME blog YA Highway as a contributor, along with a couple of other amazing writers/all around people.

I'll (of course) still blog here regularly. (if you call regularly once a week-ish....I swear one day very soon I'll kick it up a notch!)

Go check out the new contributor welcome post over at YA Highway!

IN OTHER, RANDOM NEWS:

1) My soul is currently consumed by the game Alice: Madness Returns for the Xbox 360. It's gorgeous and fun and the combat is insanely similar to Zelda: Ocarina of Time. I'm going to write a review once I finish so you can witness the awesomeness, but until then I will leave you with a picture, WHICH BY THE WAY IS TOTALLY GOING TO BE MY HALLOWEEN COSTUME. Behold:

2) Lily is starting to talk like a mad woman. Her 'conversation' talking is still utter gibberish (so adorable) but she's started repeating words immediately after we say them and has even picked out a few favorites, which currently include:

-"Woof woof!" (When we ask her what sound a puppy makes.)

-"Baaah!" (When we ask her what sound a sheep makes.)

-"Hamburger" (ham-boo-guh)

-"Taco" (ahk-oh.)

-"Cereal" (see-real)

-"Toes" (complete with excited pointing)

This little girl has such a personality, can't wait for the next Mama post!

3) WORKING (SUPER) HARD ON SECRET BOOK THINGS!! And I have officially outlined book 4 and written the first four chapters.

Cheers and Happy Saturday, everyone!

Tattoo Time!

2011-06-02T13:41:00.000-07:00

Some people hate them. Some people don't care. Some people like them, but only if they are small and in places that are easily covered up. Some people like them, but only if they have a deep meaning. Some people love them. Some people get a few, some people get a few hundred.

My tattoos are a strange collection. Some of them have 'deep' meanings to me, but some of them are purely visual. Many people assume that each and every tattoo has to have a strictly symbolic, straight forward meaning to them, but the truth of the matter is that I've always been the most inspired artistically through visual stimulation.

I think this is why I have never really gotten hung up on the lifelong commitment aspect of getting inked- there are many, many things about me that will change through my life, and I already feel like a walking canvas as it is. Many people are horrified at the idea of old ladies sporting old sleeves and chest pieces, but to me they show a story. I am more than happy to be that lady in the future! (Although I will definitely not be the only one.)

So I thought I'd share my tattoos with you, and why I got them.

First Tattoo: Roses on chest
Inspiration: Half visual, half symbolic

I got my roses when I was nineteen years old because I became fascinated with the idea that I could see things about other people, reflections of what they feel inside, on their bodies. Around

my friends, I am not a shy person. In public is a completely different story. The anxiety makes me feel like everybody is picking me apart (which I know is silly but can't help but shake it sometimes) and I loved the idea of being able to walk around as quiet as I pleased while still saying something. It's funny to think about it now, but I remember just thinking about how important all the little aspects were to this tattoo that other people would bash for being lame or corny: music notes and hearts surrounding a rose with sticky vines. But I've always been mesmerized by beauty in nature (flowers, landscapes, outer space,) and love the look of roses. So the roses were the visual aspect that I adored for the tattoo while the notes and hearts were the symbolic- music and love.

Second Tattoo: "Starry Night" quarter sleeve
Inspiration: Completely visual

Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night has inspired me artistically for years. I am a BIG 'swirl' person, I love them in all sorts of designs, and the sky in that painting is THE highlight for me. I wanted to see beautiful swirls and bright colors on my own skin, which is very pale. But instead of having a cluster of houses below the sky, I changed it to create the perfect "place" of my own artistic ambition. I mentioned the nature love before, so I swapped the buildings for grass and a very simple tree. I also threw some glow bugs in there because I loved the contrast of color.

Third Tattoo: Eye of Horus, back of neck
Inspiration: Spiritually symbolic

This is a matching tattoo that I have with my husband's sister and one of my best friends Jamie. She has the right eye, and I have the left, which fits us perfectly. In lieu of pages and pages of passionate verse as to why I have this symbol tattooed on me, I'll just keep it very simple and short and say that it completely represents how I feel about myself in this world spiritually. Strange, because it's smaller, but it was one of the most painful. Which kind of makes it even better in the end. :)

Fourth Tattoo: Ohm, left hand
Inspiration: Duel symbolism

So half of the inspiration behind this tattoo is within the symbol itself. (That's another set of pages and pages that I'll save you on and just say that it was the one that I wanted.) But the symbolism behind the location is why this is one of my favorite tattoos. In my heart, when I thought of this ohm tattoo I wanted, I envisioned it on my hand. Hand tattoos are not exactly professional workplace friendly, so at first I wanted to hold off because even though I didn't have a job at the time, my whole 'author' fantasy could either never come true or take years and years to even come close. Then it took me about one day to settle on the fact that my dream for being a writer is big enough that I will not allow myself to make a Plan B. I took the plunge and did it to show myself that I really do believe that I will see my books on the shelf one day.

Fifth Tattoo: Butterfly, left forearm
Inspiration: All visual

This one is really quite simple. Butterflies are intricate and gorgeous and I appreciate how they look so much. The variety of shape, design, and color are inspirational in themselves and I wanted a realistic butterfly tattoo to show my love.

There they are! As far as pain goes, starting with the least painful I'd say it was the butterfly, Starry Night, the ohm, then the eye, and the chest as most painful. Pain is only physical though and none of it was ever bad enough to make the artist stop working.

Till next time, peeps! :D

I Just Guest Blogged For The First Time

2011-05-05T10:19:00.001-07:00

And while it's terrifying, it also feels right. I am very passionate about this subject, so writing this post just felt like something I needed to do.

Check out my post over at Gay YA.

Cleaning

2011-05-02T10:36:00.000-07:00

When I was in high school, I became obsessed with re-arranging my room. I'd do it once a week, sometimes twice a week if something extra stressful was going on. My room became the product of my emotional fluctuations, something that gave me breathtaking control. And I used it.

Sometimes I even used it by letting the room fill up with old bowls of cereal until the milk was congealed. I'd wear dirty laundry for weeks at a time, plucking the garments from the floor like musty flowers and dousing them with Love Spell perfume.

But there would always be a time, a breaking point, a straw to break the camel of my heart's back. Usually I'd be sitting in the mess, watching one of those Disney original movies. They used to have a new one every month, do you remember? Zenon, and Johnny Tsunami, and Rip Girls, and Cadet Kelly. I'd watch the girls in the movies, I'd look at their clean hair and acne free faces, I'd watch them worry about dates to the dance and if the waves at the beach were big enough to ride today.

Then I'd look around me, and I'd see the congealed milk and dirty clothes and acne creams that cluttered my precious space. Old school papers that were due yesterday but still blank that were piled on the carpet. I'd hear the garage door open, which meant that people were home, but since it didn't really matter, since "people are home" meant "you'll still be in here all night with your door closed," I'd start to cry.

I'd cry on my bed, like a five year old, howling into her pillow and clutching the stuffed kitten that she'd had since she could remember. I was a sixteen year old baby that totally and completely accepted the fact that her whole tomorrow, that her whole life, would be nothing but agony and emotional instability. The cutting helped, the music helped, but nothing ever solved anything.

Ten minutes later, the crying would cease and I'd stare, hiccuping, around my disgusting mess of a room.

And I'd clean.

Up came the papers, into the Lisa Frank binder instead of the trash, out went the congealed milk. The laundry would be done after five consecutive loads, folded perfectly in my drawer or hung in my closet.

I carefully laid out a green rope light to surround my bed, and adjusted the Sailor Moon and Hello Kitty wall hangs to make the walls different.

The fitted sheet was to have absolutely no bunches in the corners, or loose folds of cloth that would terrorize me in the night with their intruding feeling of chaos. The loose sheet would be placed design side down, so that when I pulled them up and over my head I'd still be able to see the tiny Care Bears and rainbows and sunshine.

And after three hours or so, I'd have a new room to live in, a new place to support my desire to be who I wanted to be. A normal girl, a happy girl, a girl who produced art that everyone loved. A girl who didn't have a horrible monster in her closet, or an innocent journal that was forced to endure constant hell.

I wish so bad that I could tell that girl to hang on, that help was coming, that someday her over emotional words would make it to paper and get read by a hot shot New York City literary agent that took her out for pizza and breakfast while she visited for her online BFF's book release in the city. And that those words were able to find their place because of true love, a miracle too big for God named Edmund, a person that saw something in her.

Even years after I've moved out, I still rearrange my house from time to time. I find that it's much more productive, and more kind to my looks, than a spontaneous haircut after three glasses of wine.

I still have lots of things from my old room, including my Care Bears blanket and trinkets. In high school, the trinkets were usually lined up on the shelf behind my bed, or my dresser, or my window sill. No matter where they were, they stood a few inches apart in all their Representation of Amy glory.

A small gold violin with tiny diamonds on the strings, a small framed picture of my dead golden retriever, a porcelain bunny whose ear is broken off, a bronze Buddah statue given to me by someone I loved with all my heart. I still have them all, funnily enough. They are in line on the shelf by my front door, and my daughter loves to grab them and hold them and rearrange them.

I watch her play with them, kiss the picture of the dog, look in wonder at the Buddah. She knocks them around, squeals with joy, then pads away to the next "Dat?"

I watch her walk away and smile.

Of course, as soon as she's gone I put them all back.

And Then I Became "Mama."

2011-04-07T09:35:00.000-07:00

My biggest passion in life, above all things, is my family. I'm a small town girl that got married at nineteen, pregnant at twenty one, and became a mama at twenty two. That's really freaking crazy, especially if you knew me in high school. If my sixteen year old self heard that at twenty three, she'd be working at home dreaming of a big family with three or four kids and writing How To articles about storing sweet potato pies properly for income while trying to become a published author, the sixteen year old self probably would have laughed. Hard. Or put her cigarette out in your eye, then laughed.

But it's true, and it happened, and here I am living the simple life and dreaming of a second baby and a book deal. I must be crazy. I BLAME EDMUND.

When I met Edmund, life became something fun to experience and explore as opposed to a noisy over-emotional clusterfuck of a thing to get through with temporary pleasures. Accepting happiness is much harder than it sounds, especially if you felt like you were doomed for a life without it at one point.

The fears that come with having a baby are knee-buckling, especially if you have an anxiety disorder. What if she chokes on her food and dies? What if she rolls over with her face on a pillow and dies? What if she gets SIDS? What if she falls and hits her head, or pulls the bookshelf on top of her, or eats this shitty Manager's Special chicken and DIES?! You get the picture.

When Lily was a few months old, she hit herself in the face with her rattle when I wasn't looking and her lip became bruised. I was at my brother's house. When I looked at her, all I saw was a blue mouth and I flipped. I was crying, it was late at night, and I called the doctor's hotline and told them that my baby's mouth was blue, so they transferred me to the doctor's AT HOME line. I was probably half way through my hysterical plea when I held a flashlight up to her mouth and realized that it was simply a bruise on her lip only. I think I literally stopped halfway through my sentence and just went, "oh..it's...it's just a bruise, I think. Sorry."

Yeah. Embarrassing.

But time passed and life kept happening and I slowly but surely got more comfortable and less scared. Lily has taught me, above all other things, to just relax and go with the punches. It's been one of the most valuable things I have ever learned, and she'll never know how much of an impact it has made on my entire life, and changed the way I look at everything. I'm seriously digging the family life.

Then a week or so ago, I realized that the idea of getting pregnant again didn't scare the shit out of me anymore.

In fact, it sounds pretty damn good. (Well, having a second child in the next year does. Actually being pregnant, not so much.)

(Here is a picture I took early this morning with Lily. Please excuse the greasy hair and no makeup. BUT LOOK AT THAT BEAUTIFUL BABY. ---------------------> )

So, Edmund and I have officially opened the doors of fate. With Lily it took six months to get pregnant, so I'm not crossing my fingers for anything immediate. And on another note, I miss Mama Blogging. I should do it more often.

What Scares You?

2011-03-22T17:27:00.000-07:00

So you're under the covers, terrified to let even one toe escape. You're absolutely certain that if you were to stick your arm out, or your leg, it would instantly become prey to whatever horror you just know is waiting for the opportune moment to strike. You're totally safe beneath the force field that is your Care Bears comforter. (You don't have a Care Bears comforter?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!?) ;)

On the other hand, it's really fucking hot under here and the logical part of your brain is kicking in to remind you that if you don't go up for air soon, you may just die there in the heat of your own fumes.

My question to you today is, what movie or book put you there in the first place? Everyone has different Scary Buttons. Was it a ghost story? A serial killer slasher? A bug infested corpse? An exorcism gone bad? (And is it just me, or do they ALL go bad?)

I am an absolute horror addict, and I love hearing about what scares other people, because everybody is different. The person who laughs at me for wanting to cry and hide away forever when Samara from The Ring crawls out of the television set could be the same person who screamed in the theatre when she found out the call was coming from inside the house.

For me, it's:

-Witches (the Blair Witch kind, not the Witch Mountain kind. Teeth in a rag, anybody?)

-Curses (You're completely and utterly fucked and chances are there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, even though you'll try desperately and lose some friends along the way.)

-Haunted forests (Ever since I went camping one time and looked, I mean really looked at what a dense forest looks like at night. SO open, and so horrifyingly quiet, except for the occasional crunch of leaves or twigs or branches out there in the dark)

-Indian, Native American, or old English ghosts/legends (Did you ever read that story about the Wendigo in Scary Stories to Tell In the Dark? OMG.)

-Voodoo (I'm not talking sticking-a-pin-in-a-doll here. I'm talking a bird skull wrapped with a piece of bloody cloth with a chunk of hair inside.)

-Things returning from the dead (Pet Semetary by Stephen King is the most terrifying book I have ever, ever read.)

-Twisted, dark fairy tales (Grimm style, of course.)

-What I call "quiet gore." (Gore that is as raw as it gets, without being too showy and covered in obnoxious amounts of fake or CG blood. Examples: The dude that gets his eyes pecked out in The Birds, almost all the gore in Schindler's List, and pretty much the entire movie 28 Days Later.)

I could go on for days. We've all got our thing, so what's yours?

And Here It Goes Again

2011-03-09T22:40:00.000-08:00

Content debates are like the mold of the YA community. No matter how hard we scrub at it, and swear there is no trace left, it always freakin' comes back for more.

It kind of rotates around- swearing, drinking, drug use, sex.

Sex.

Sex is the one that's hot right now, but that's not why I'm blogging about it. I'm blogging about it because I can't help but say what I want to say, and I've read some posts and comments that really have me scratching my head.

I am wondering how it is that people are under the impression that having books that contain sex are "shoving sex down teenager's throats at every possible opportunity?" Why are people claiming that sex in YA "glorifies" teen sex? Is it because the MC is happy about the sex when they damn well shouldn't be? And also, why are people pretending that sex in YA never has consequences, or even a point?

Are there a bunch of books out that I've never heard of where the main characters have sex and then immediately gain a perfect life as a direct result? What is glamorous about a dying teen having sex to put a check mark on her bucket list? About a girl who has such horrible self esteem issues that she has sex to attempt and correct them? I could go on forever. I could list every sex scene, every motivation, every gritty raunchy blush-inducing paragraph to be published under the name YA. I could even list the ones that are all champagne and roses and wedding ring dreams and THAT WAS SOOOO GOOD afterward, and it'd all still be the same thing.

If the issue is supposedly so complicated and has this need to be dissected and organized into Acceptable and Unacceptable piles, and written in six section long blog posts that break down each and every reason WHY the blogger feels that exact way, then why on earth is the blanket phrase "Sex in YA" being used? I'm not seeing posts against "Sex in YA Books Where I Don't Approve of the MC's Motives," or posts like "Sex in YA Should Only Be Used If The Sex Is Not Casual And If It Is Casual Then There Needs To Be STD's Or A Fetus."

The debate is sex, all sex, in YA. In a perfect world, everybody could settle on "when it's a part of the story." Because to the reader, the completely average, I-saw-this-book-in-the-library-and-the-cover-was-neato-so-why-not teen reader, IT IS SIMPLY A PART OF THE STORY.

And yes, even if they (the average teen reader) are unaware of the debates that go on in our little corner of the net, the actual sex may/may not have an effect on them. Think of it this way: a ton of teens, of different moral background/stances, read the same book. Some of them might be inspired to sign abstinence pledges after reading such a dirty, disgusting book. Some may be inspired to be wild and go off and contract a rainbow of STDs and get knocked up after that sensational, guilty pleasure of a read.

Either way, we are not controlling or manipulating the actions of this teen like some people claim we are. I'm not saying authors have no responsibility in what they write. I'm just saying that the parent's responsibility is obviously the big one, the most important and influential one, and that's the end of the story.

Personal experiences will always, always affect our views on things such as this. I get that, and that's why they are opinions. I could get all real and share what age I was when I lost my virginity and what happened as a result and how it affected my views, but that would do absolutely nothing to change the fact that the books being complaining about are getting distributed read and appreciated by somebody out there.

YA books are not instructional books regarding how to live your life. They are stories that need to be told, by someone. That girl you call a slut, that girl you say is irresponsible, that girl you say is not a good example. She's out there, and she's real, and she's reading.

So where do I stand? I stand on the "everybody has different morals, so let there be books that support all types" side, whatever side that may be. And everybody needs to accept everybody else's opinions, because no amount of debating is going to make us all agree or deem one side or the other Correct. (That'd be horribly boring anyway, right?)

Wishing for a certain subject or type of content to be squelched or watered down because it offends certain people is wishing for censorship.

Realize that any one person's experiences are just as valuable, and just as relevant, no matter how "trashy," "wrong," "distasteful," "unnecessary," "unrealistic" or "gratuitous" you BELIEVE they are.

New Openings

2011-03-08T09:10:00.000-08:00

It starts with a rumor.

A girl was found dead on campus.

It starts with wide eyes and gasps and people whispering oh em gee. They clutch to the cross broaches pinned to their uniforms for dear life. Of course, the whole time this is all going down, Olivia and I are laughing because a) we're stoned and b) the idea of a girl being found dead at a prep school is just so Nancy Drew.

Rumors are run of the mill here. They vary from the slightly scandalous to full-on soap opera style and are almost never true. And right now, the vision of a bunch of well groomed kids in blazers trying to get to the bottom of a one lined rumor about a dead girl is just fucking comical.

I scan the halls for Naomi's bleached blonde faux hawk. I don't see it, or her, I just see all these kids in tight little huddles. They whisper to each other and look at us as we walk by. It all seems so ominous, but I'm pretty sure that's just the joint talking.

But then Mind and Society class starts and a cop comes in and I'm suddenly aware of how red my eyes probably are. I fumble around in my purse for the hand lotion that has an obnoxious lemongrass scent and snap open the cap. I'm rubbing it into my hands when he calls my name.

“Violet Nolan?” Mr. Moench repeats after the cop leans away. “Where's Violet?”

Then they all turn and look and touch the crosses again, probably thanking Jesus for all of this delicious drama. Olivia looks paranoid too and I wonder if we're somehow busted for the weed, even though my gut tells me that it's something else.

I hate being right.

“You're one of Naomi Andrews' roommates, correct?” the cop asks me after we've stepped outside the classroom.

A girl was found dead on campus.

“Yes,” I say.

The cop is fat and has stale coffee breath that washes over me as he tells me that not only was a girl found dead on campus, but that the girl was found dead from suicide and that the girl was my roommate. My roommate Naomi Andrews. Naomi Andrews, my best friend since second grade.

I wish I had smoked two joints instead of one.

I think the cop asks me something, but I'm too busy thinking about Naomi in a slide show format in my head to respond. In fifth grade with her braces shining nervously, in ninth grade when Stan Marshall finally asked her out. Last year, when she seriously asked me if saran wrap could be substituted for a condom. I burst out laughing, and the cop starts to look genuinely worried. I decide that he is lying about Naomi.

“How did she die?” I say.

The cop looks uncomfortable. “Would you mind coming back to your dorm so you can answer a few questions?” he asks instead of answering.

“Okay,” I answer.

Naomi can't be dead, especially not from suicide. She told me just yesterday that she was excited for the weekend. We had plans. We had goals. She wouldn't just do that to me.

“Do you have any stuff I should grab from your class before we go?” the cop asks dutifully.

I shake my head no and walk to the door that leads to the snowy quad, thinking about my book bag, library book, and assortment of other random stuff that will be abandoned in Mind and Society. I remember the whispers in this same hall when it was full a few minutes ago, the whispers that I had laughed at and written off as anything but true.

A girl was found dead on campus.

And just like that, my reality becomes a black fucking wonderland.

YA Mafia

2011-03-04T12:14:00.000-08:00

After reading through all the fascinating links posted on the fabulous YA Highway today about the so called "YA Mafia," I had to write a blog post about it. (I'm totally supposed to be working right now, by the way. BAD AMY!)I rarely speak out about YA controversies because to be honest, I hate conflict and confrontation. I am, however, a lurker, and I've come across something that has made me want to speak my heart.

I don't even want to focus on the issues part of this right now. I just want to urge everybody to take a big step back, (as well as a nice big deep breath,) and realize that what is going on here is an almost self destruction of our thriving, amazing YA community. Yeah, there are the big bad debates that get people ranting- appropriate content debates, online presence debates, fucking Twilight debates.

But when things like this happen, when a simple question is asked by a curious book blogger and it grows rampant enough to have writers and reviews war-wording like it's 1999 (I don't know, go with me here,) THAT is the stuff that can hurt your potential to learn from the amazing community that is YA.

It's hard to learn new stuff. I'm not even being sarcastic there- learning stuff as a kid is so much easier and natural than it is to learn stuff as an adult. But there is so much VALUABLE information and advice out there. Advice about writing, advice about reading, advice about what shows and movies are awesome and exactly which type of ice cream reigns supreme. Advice that can change your life, and help you build a career, and make amazing friends in the process.

So whatever you've taken from this whole YA Mafia thing, please, let it not hurt your chances of finding happiness within this roller coaster of a fascinating business. Be yourself, make smart choices about what you type online, put your best effort into your writing and let your work do the talking.

But, most importantly, enjoy the ride.

It's Time For An Epic Quest

2011-02-25T10:59:00.000-08:00

If you read my last post, you'll know that I recently overcame the thorny Stay-At-Home obstacle that is known as scheduling. It's been a week, and I'm happy to report that things are still rolling very smoothly.

So, in honor of my recent dive into the (mostly) relaxed, I've decided to compile a list of things that I'd like to start doing or learn how to do. If you have any experience in any of the following, please let me know how to conquer this shiz!

It's on like Donkey Kong.

#1) Learn how to cook seafood. Fish, in particular. While I definitely cook my share of heart-attack-on-a-plate style dishes, I also like to do healthy stuff too, and would love to be able to whip out a delicious fish dish. The grocery store down the street just opened this huge new seafood section connected to the meat counter, and it is always loaded with things that catch my eye: potato crusted cod, crab legs, scallops, shrimp....I WANT IN ON THAT.

#2) Fix my library card situation. See, I'm embarrassed to admit that even though there was a drop off box within walking distance of my apartment at the time, I one time kept like ten books a few weeks past their due dates at the library. When I went in to assess the damage, the lady at the counter told me that my late fees were sixty bucks. SIXTY BUCKS. And at a time when sixty bucks is really more like a thousand bucks, I knew I had no chance. I've been without a library card ever since and it's beginning to be a problem. I need to fix that, ASAP. I wonder if overdue fees expire? I wish.

#3) Read a wide range of genres. This situation is pretty much tied to the one above. While I love YA, I'm also a huge fan of adult horror and chick lit. (If you haven't read Jemima J....PLEASE GO DO SO IMMEDIATELY KTHXBAI.) Sadly, my exposure to said genres has been squelched lately. GAAAH I NEED A LIBRARY CARD AGAIN.

#4) Cook Julia Child's beef bourgogne. I heard so much smack talk about the movie Julie and Julia, but I have to go ahead and say that I freakin' loved it. While I didn't love the sound of many of the recipes, the beef bourgogne had my mouth watering every time. It's official...that shiz needs to be filling my house with its warm aroma-y goodness. Like, NOW.

#5) Subscribe to, and read religiously, a really cool magazine. Or two, or three, or four. We used to get Game Informer, and I miss it ever so. But it's so easy to forget just HOW many kick ass magazines there are out there, on any topic that you could ever want. I even hear there are short story magazines. UM, WHAT? I know, I'm a writer, I should know this stuff, but I've never read such a magazine and I'd love to. I'd also like to get into a cooking magazine, a family magazine (extra cheesy, please), a home design magazine, a science magazine, a music and entertainment magazine, or anything else that is exciting. Tell me about your faves!

#6) Start collecting ALL the Disney classics. I mean, how could I deprive my little Squidling the joy of The Little Mermaid? Or Beauty and the Beast? Or Lady and the Tramp? Or Sword in the Stone? Okay, I should probably stop listing them or I will go on forever. OR SLEEPING BEAUTY!!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Okay last one I swear. But you get the picture. I'm totally going to go embarrassingly all out the first time Lily watches these. I'm going to make themed snacks and it's gonna be sleepover in the living room style. I. CAN'T. WAIT.

#7) Explore the world with Squidling. Have you guys ever heard of Jerome? It's here in Arizona, only about an hour away from where I live. It's this amazing, cute little town tucked into a mountain. There's a few restaurants, but my fave is the Haunted Hamburger, where you can get a burger with bacon, fried onions and mushrooms, green chili, etc. There are tons of AMAZING shops, but I can't wait to show Lily the kaleidoscope shop. It's just what it sounds like, and you can test them all out, and there are some really fucking hardcore kaleidoscopes out there. There's also this playground in the middle of town with a really tall slide, some swings, etc. It's probably the best place ever to take day trips, and I can't wait for her to experience it.

8) Dye my hair jet black. (And eventually add some neon purple or blue to the bangs.) Don't laugh at me! I've been growing my hair out for over two years now, and it's finally long so now it's time to act on color. Plus, I have a major grey hair problem. It started when I was seventeen (SEVENTEEN. Seriously. WTF) but at the time it was just a few here and there. It's now to the point where action needs to be taken lest I be mistaken for a grandma. AND I AM NOT EXAGGERATING. DON'T EVEN ACCUSE. My natural color used to be red brown, but it's growing in black now so I just gotta give in and do it already.

Okay, I'll stop at eight at the risk of rambling on forever. But these are the ones that stick out most in my mind. Looking back, they are almost all about food or reading. LOL! Go figure.

Are there any things you want to do in a somewhat short period of time? Got any tips for the goals above?

Stay-At-Home-Scrambler

2011-02-13T20:16:00.000-08:00

I always knew I wanted to be a stay at home mom. When I first came home from the hospital after having Lily, I was already employed as a freelance writer but Sir Edmund The Hotness was still working at Hotel of Doom. He told his work way ahead of time that he wanted a week off once the baby was born, to help us get all nice and settled into a routine before he went back to work.

Eddie returned to work when his time was up and we both hated it, immediately. Between the newborn sleep loss and his night hours at the hotel, we weren't spending too much quality time enjoying our new little family. Even when things calmed down a little, Eddie realized that this job was sucking his soul out...he absolutely hated it.

So we had this crazy idea....what if we both worked from home? It's not something that's very common, but we couldn't deny that it's what we both wanted the most. We wanted to spend our days enjoying each other and our baby and life. Plus, we'd be making more money. Sounded great in theory, but how would it work out?

So Eddie got a job where I work and we started our new life as stay at home parents.

Fast forward a year and some odd months.....we are only JUST now getting a grip on it all.

Even with us both at home, my house was only clean if people were coming over. We still ate almost exclusively fast food. (ICK. ICK. ICK.) We only did just enough articles to pay for all baby expenses and bills, which left us very little for 'fun money' or unexpected expenses. Our tax return allowed us to go to NYC for Kody's book launch, but other than that we did very little. We are also both extreme homebodies, which kind of just incubated the situation and made it grow crazy out of control.

The glamour of staying at home makes it seem like a piece of cake. I can imagine how someone who doesn't work from home would read this and get all annoyed and pissy that anyone would talk about the 'struggles' of figuring out when to play video games and when to write articles, when both parents are home in the first place.

But dudes...it really does mess with your head. Time becomes almost irrelevant, and days of the week stop getting tracked. It's so, SO easy to just lose focus and the phrase "I'll do it later, because I have all the time in the world" is always popping up in your head. You've got your husband and your happy baby and your cats and your novel and that's all that matters, right?

But there comes a time when it just gets ridiculous.

Unexpected guests become mortal enemies because WHY DIDN'T THEY CALL AHEAD SO I COULD CLEAN THE PILES OF TRASH AND TOYS AND VACUUM AND SHOWER AND AND AND.....

Scheduling something as simple as lunch with a friend seems like an impossible task because scheduling anything means that you're actually aware of what time and day it is.

Being able to stay at home with my husband is too valuable to mess up because we're both naturally unorganized. But Nike has it right when they say "Just do it."

It's my new motto, and it's working. Our condo is clean. Our articles are getting done. The new novel is getting written. The baby's dresser is stuffed full of clean, folded clothes and the dryer is no longer serving as The Family Dresser.

Do you struggle with time management skills? Do you have any tricks or tips for sharpening such skills?

-A.

Bacon and Potato Soup

2011-02-08T09:59:00.000-08:00

I gotta be straight with you guys right off the bat. If you read the recipe for homemade deep dish pizza, you already know that I hate cheese. This is an insanely unfortunate thing. In restaurants especially, since the word "cheese" is in SO MANY THINGS that are SO GOOD without it. But when you look at your waiter and go, "I'd like a Philly Cheesesteak please, but with no cheese," there's only so many ways they can look at you without making you feel like a freak of nature. And don't even get me started on the stares of wonder when I pull the cheese off my pizza. (LOVE pizza, oddly enough.)

I have always re-tasted cheese through the years, because your taste buds are supposed to change and all that jazz. Mine haven't. It freakin' sucks.

So, besides my cheese-hate, there are a few other foods that are completely gag worthy to me. Included on this list are ranch dressing, mayo, heavy cream, and sour cream.

So when I see "Potato Soup" on a menu, I refrain from ordering because I can always bet that there'll be either heavy cream, sour cream, or cheese in it. Until now, I've always settled for using that Bear Creek mix and adding steak and corn to it, which is actually amazing by the way.

But recently one of my BFFs came up with a recipe that yields the most kick ass potato soup EVER without using ANY of the ingredients that usually ruin the soup for me. Me and her get together twice a week after the baby has gone to bed for the night to drink wine and cook together. We are so similar in our cooking tastes, I love it. I've known her since kindergarten. We walked together at graduation, and she was the maid of honor at my wedding.

So needless to say, when she showed me this recipe I knew I had to feature it on the blog. You're totally gonna thank me.

This soup is perfect for days where your front porch view is like this:

Okay, so first off, dice up a LOT of potatoes into really small pieces, as so. As far as amount goes, it's totally up to you, we had four people to feed and I wanted leftovers so I did quite a bit. Add diced pieces of carrot and celery, too.

Next, dice an entire package of bacon into little pieces. I actually used kitchen shears to do it because it was much easier. Crisp the shiz outta that bacon in the bottom of a soup pot, and when it's nice and golden add a diced onion to absorb all that bacony goodness. (Lots of dicing going on here.)

After a few minutes of letting the onions get to know the bacon, add that big ass bowl of diced potatoes, carrots, and celery. Add a ginormous spoonful of garlic (or two, or three...,) salt and pepper, and some dill. Cover it with enough water to just cover it all and add one chicken bouillon cube per cup of water. Bring it to a boil then let it simmer covered.

Alright, truth time again. As soon as the potatoes are cooked through enough to eat, you're supposed to remove a few cups of the soup and blend them before pouring back in. It makes the soup all thick and stuff and completes everything. But in real life, the Lucky Duck was flowing and we were all too busy laughing hysterically about how slippery the rug on the hardwood floor was.
So, um, yeah. We cooked it for awhile even after the potatoes were soft enough to eat. So the soup just thickened on its own. It was still equally amazing, so maybe you should just do that on purpose if you don't want to blend it. (I will admit though, I prefer the potato pieces to be a little firm still.)

Voila! (Yes, be jealous of the caramel chocolate cake in the background lol)

I would highly suggest serving this with a gigantic hunk of homemade bread, as shown. The bread is a lovely tool for wiping the sides of the bowl.

What are your favorite winter comfort foods? For me, it's always an amazing soup or stew with lots of bread. That, or pot roast.

-A.

What's Your Playlist?

2011-01-30T09:44:00.000-08:00

I used to not be able to write unless I had complete quiet. (HA!) Needless to say, finding a significant period of time when there is no sound has become somewhat tricky since having a baby. I mean, she goes to bed pretty early, but by that point I'm tired as hell and like to play some World of Warcraft with Sir Edmund the Hotness.

So I started writing during her morning nap, and found that I actually really enjoy listening to my iPod when I write. It can really help set the mood, so to speak. The latest album on repeat? O by Damien Rice.

Other bands/artists that have worked wonders lately:

Modest Mouse (Good News for People Who Love Bad News)

Cat Power (You Are Free)

the Across The Universe soundtrack

Jewel (Pieces of You, the only Jewel album I'm crazy about)

Lady Gaga- anything

Tori Amos- anything

Cursive- The Ugly Organ (makes high school seem like yesterday)

Alison Krauss/Robert Plant- anything

What do you listen to while you write, if anything at all?

Reality Television and Writing

2011-01-23T08:56:00.000-08:00

We've all heard the warnings about television turning our brains into mush.

Mindless entertainment is big- look at some of the new "reality" shows on VH1 and MTV right now. Things like You're Cut Off, Basketball Wives, The Jersey Shore, Parental Control, The X Life, and Real Housewives (TEAM BETHENNY). They may or may not be even close to true reality, but damn it there are some guilty pleasures out there. (I totally miss Rock of Love, by the way.)

Mindless entertainment, yes. But reality TV, I mean real reality TV, is a contemporary writer's dream. Shows like Hoarders, Heavy, Intervention, True Life. Shows that expose absolute raw emotion that exist within human nature. And sometimes I really wonder if the people who believe that Teen Mom and 16 and Pregnant glamorize teen pregnancy have ever even seen the show, let alone followed the stories from it. (I'm looking at you, Kim Kardashian. I mean, REALLY?!)

What I love about these shows is that you don't have to necessarily be in the people's shoes exactly- I've never been 300 pounds overweight, but body image and self esteem have been annoyingly low for me since the teen years. And when I watch something like Heavy, or I Used To Be Fat, I'm shown that I'm not the only one that has ever loathed my body. It also puts things into perspective, like how having a vanity issue with your flabby stomach feels kind of stupid when you see these people experiencing serious medical issues because of their weight.

Same with Intervention- even non addicts can see the extreme things that can spiral out of control when something happens in a person's life to trigger the addiction.

Shows like this can prove to be very, very helpful for your character development skills. I believe that the more empathetic a person is, the better and more relatable their characters are. If you're able to explore how you feel about the things that really affect teens and people in general, you'll certainly be able to create a character that has good reason to act the way he or she does.

Even if you don't agree with the opinions behind the show, or what it stands for, some TV shows really showcase what kind of personalities are out there. Toddlers and Tiaras is horrifying, yes, but you can't deny that it's fascinating.

The best characters in YA literature are so multi-dimensional- Cassie in BEAUTIFUL, Emily in I WANNA BE YOUR JOEY RAMONE, Serena in GOSSIP GIRL (never seen the show, talking about the books), Maya in BALLADS OF SUBURBIA, and pretty much every MC that Courtney Summers has ever written.

Having relatable characters is great. But consider how powerful it can also be to have a character that is indirectly relatable, meaning that your first impression of them wouldn't usually lead you to like them or feel for them at all. But as you read their stories and see them as people, if the story is written well you will fully understand what made the MC who they are, and relate in the most hidden, random ways.

It's books like this that whip out one of two reactions from readers: They either love it, or they hate it. Personally, if I ever have a book published I only want those two reactions from readers. I want them to LOVE it or HATE it. I would rather read a venom laced review that rips the characters apart than read one that's like, "Meh, it was okay." Intense characters should yield intense emotions in the reader, no matter which way it goes.

What about you guys? Are there any reality (or non-reality) shows that really set off sparks of inspiration for you? As far as non-reality goes, I'd have to say the master of characters is Joss Whedon. I'd love to see what kind of stuff you guys watch.

-A.

Movie Trailers Suck. Seriously.

2011-01-15T15:23:00.000-08:00

Alright, alright. I realize that we live in a time where movie technology is getting out of control neat- the story in Avatar wasn't that great, at all, (don't throw rocks at me plz) but the effects and the technology used to create them were absolutely spectacular.

Also, emotionally driven movies continue to delve into the previously taboo- Precious, Black Swan, etc. So it's only natural that the people in charge of putting together the trailer would want to showcase what the movie has to offer.

I am a huge movie lover. I love observing a single piece of art that is the product of so many different types of art- the writing, the acting, the cinematogrophy, etc.

However, there is something going on lately that has really, really been grinding my gears. (Oh hai Peter Griffin.)

There is something out there bastardizing the movie experience, friends, I am convinced. That thing is.....movie trailers.

DON'T GET ME WRONG. Previews are necessary to attract the targetted audiences. However, I have been burned, burned, and burned again recently and the movie trailer was 100% to blame for each case. Movie trailers have begun to go too far as far as revealing certain facts and scenes about the particular movie. I'm talking major spoilers in the trailers.

*******THE REST OF THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIES DRAG ME TO HELL, SHUTTER ISLAND, BLACK SWAN (KIND OF, I HAVEN'T SEEN IT BUT I'VE SEEN THE TRAILER. YOU'LL SEE WHAT I MEAN IN A SECOND.) AND WHATEVER THE HECK THAT MOVIE IS THAT STARS JOSH DUHAMMEL AND KATHERINE HEIGL WHERE THEY INHERIT A BABY. *******

So, when you go a movie, you're not going to instantly forget the trailer that brought you there. When I went to see Drag Me To Hell, I was ridiculously stoked. (I just gotta throw this out there before I go into all of this, I loved the movie, a lot. Classic Sam Raimi- hilarious at times and creepy at times and overly gross at times.) As the movie went on, a certain scene that had been the highlight scene of many of the trailers kept tapping me on the shoulder- When are they going to show the scene where Alison Lohman is being pulled into a fiery pit by all the different arms/hands? Surely, it wouldn't happen at the end, I thought. They wouldn't just show the end of the movie in the trailer. Wrong, my friends.

After the Drag Me To Hell incident, I hoped for a better movie viewing future. I figured it was a slip up, that the particular person who put the trailer together had been off their rocker, and that it would hopefully never happen again.

Then Shutter Island came out.

There were so many blatant "Is Leo the crazy one!?" teasery type remarks and scenes in the first trailers for the movie that I figured it was officially allowing itself to be dubbed a "Who is the real crazy one?" movie. And that's totally fine. I expected it to blow us away with something completely unpredictable, because such a big name and such a beautiful looking film had more at stake than "A or B?"

But then when the movie actually came out, they started changing the trailer to those "DON'T TELL ANYBODY HOW IT ENDS" movies, except for that they'd follow every like remark with a shot of Leo in the hospital, looking full on bat shit crazy. The trailer prepped me to be very, VERY suspicious of this outcome, and in the first scene when Leo makes a comment about being around the water, I knew for certain that something was up. So then I just kept waiting for something to happen that would just completely prove the theory wrong, or at least trick me into thinking otherwise. The movie was awesome, but that moment never came and I knew from the beginning that Leo was delusional.

I was originally inspired to write this blog post because there is a movie out that I am absolutely DYING to see- Black Swan. The original trailers for it were teasery enough to give me an idea of what I could expect without showing me what to expect, like the latest trailers for it are.

The 'is she crazy' and 'who is Lily really?' tones that the trailers produce, combined with the much repeated and particularly haunting scene of Natalie Portman slamming another girl (presumably Mila Kunis) into a mirror in a fight that appears to be to-the-death, leads me to believe that Natalie Portman is going to kill someone, either herself or Mila Kunis, if Mila Kunis even exists at all. I hope I am wrong, (if you've seen it please don't comment on if I am or not) and if I am I will be eating my words after I see it.

I know I'll still love it either way, (I have heard it's amazing from multiple trusted sources,) but I looove being surprised with how movies turn out, you know? And I don't even need to see the movie with Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhammel where they inherit the baby because the trailer shows the entire thing in four swift scenes: unlikely couple that is not a couple yet inherits baby, unlikely couple gives it a go, hilarity and emotional chaos ensues, Josh Duhammel confesses his love for Katherine Heigl and baby. I wonder how it ends...*cough*

That still wouldn't change the Drag Me To Hell and Shutter Island incidents, though, and even the Paranormal Activity 2 trailer got super spoilery at parts.

If you are wondering why I am bitching about it because trailers are trailers and what else would they show in them, I will show an example of how I wish trailers really were.

This is a trailer for an old film that I love called Don't Bother To Knock, starring Marilyn Monroe.

So super cheesy adverstising lines about Marilyn aside (every inch a woman? hahahah), the trailer is great because it isn't so short as to not get us interested, and it shows lots of important scenes that build up toward the big reveal at the end. As someone who has seen this movie, though, I can attest that the trailer doesn't even come close to scratching the surface as far as what the movie is actually about and in what direction it goes. It lets you know what you need to know- guy gets involved with sketchy female, shit goes down. But it does it in such a less obvious way that if you watched the film after viewing the trailer, you'd def. be surprised, not to mention introduced to other story lines that they don't even address in the trailer.

I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking the whole thing. All I know is, I'm afraid to look at the freaking TV screen any time a trailer for *insert upcoming anticipated film here* comes on.

Today's movies have so much to offer us. And I don't doubt that putting together a good trailer is very, very difficult work. But the trailers don't need to rope us in with actual footage of the end scenes, revealing scenes, etc. We, as the audience, will respond just as well if not better.

There's only so much buttery popcorn and Sour Punch Straws and Cherry Coke will bring us in the theatre. We need to enjoy the movie watching experience, and everyone who worked their asses off to make the movie in the first place deserves an audience with fresh eyes and a fresh mind.

DAP.

2011-01-13T09:03:00.000-08:00

In the past two weeks or so, I have learned exactly what it is to become a baby translator. I feel as though I could make a career out of it.

Lily can say:

-Mama

-Dada

-Bye bye

-Cat

-Clap

This may seem oh so impressive, (it is to me, anyway,) but the truth of the matter is that while she knows how to say those words, she often forgoes them for her very favorite word of all:

"DAP!"

It began probably three weeks ago, when I noticed that she would say a very sharp, very clear, very deliberate "DAP!" for almost everything. And while she will occasionally throw out one of the words listed above, she most often opts for "Dap." I was instantly on a mission to crack the code of DAP. I began studying her. Watching her every facial twitch. And, my friends, I became a master DAP translator.

Examples are as follows:

1) On the bed, watching TV. Lily points to her bottle and says, "DAP."

Translation: "Mother, would you mind filling that vessel with delicious liquid so that my belly may swell and my hunger be sated."

2) Lily sees Edmund or I drinking a soda, and points to the can. "DAP!"

Translation: "Bring that aluminum treaure to my mouth so that I may lick and suck on the side like a hungry suckerfish." (Yeah, for some reason she really REALLY enjoys licking the sides of soda cans. Particularly, Mountain Dew.)

3) Lily pets the Frodo bear all nice and gentle, then randomly grabs his tail. He meows and slaps her hand with his paw. She looks at me as if the world has shattered and softly asks, "Dap?"

Translation: "I never meant to harm the creature, Mother. I simply wished to cause him great joy."

4) Lily stands at the couch, with a wicked little smile on her face. The air suddenly smells like death. Poopy, poopy death. She shrugs and throws it out there, "Dap."

Translation: "Oh, Mother, I've made this one real special, just for you."

5) Lily plays with her little electric piano, that has little animals that play instruments and spin around if and only if you are hitting a key. Lily hits a key, then tries to grab the elephant playing a violin. Sadly, by the time her chubby little hand makes it there, the elephant has stopped playing. She gets pissed and tries to move it by force. When that doesn't work, she goes on a mini rampage and begins grabbing at all the poor little animals in the band- the tiger with the accordian, the monkey with the symbols, the lion with the drums, the chicken with the saxophone, and the dancing bear. Amongst her rage, she bumps the 'demo' button, in which the piano plays a song by itself and the band comes alive. She looks at me, triumphantly, and yells, "DAP."

Translation: "You see, Mother? I have owned these little bitches in the face, and they must now obey my every command. You see, Mother, I am the master and they are the servants. I COMMAND THEY OBEY."

6) Lily's favorite friends, Chelsea and Travis, have come over for video games and entertainment. Lily, the natural entertainer, stands at the coffee table, and begins talking in the most conversational tone: "Dap, dap. Dap dap dap. Daaap? DAP!"

Translation: "Have you two ever considered the Cyclical Universe theory? It is really quite fascinating. If it is correct, we have had this conversation before many times and we will have it again. Sometimes, we won't have it at all."

That pretty much sums up the average day around the house. Once in awhile, while Edmund is putting on his coat to run to the store, she'll wave and say "Buh-buh Dada." Like it ain't no thang. Sometimes, when I am playing with her and she snuggles her head into my shoulder, she'll say oh so affectionately, "Mama."

But, mostly, it's just "Dap."

Go Post Secret

2011-01-03T09:19:00.001-08:00

Sometimes, Post Secret can really make you feel all free 'n shit. From this week's slew:

It's time for me to let go.

Anti-Resolution

2010-12-31T12:48:00.001-08:00

I know this is going to sound pessimistic as hell, but I'm no longer a fan of New Year's resolutions. People swear that they will exercise, that they will no longer eat fast food, that they will get back into a specific hobby or passion and really go for it this time. But if/when it doesn't happen exactly how they pictured it going down, they feel like failures, which obviously means you might as well forget about the whole thing and stop trying until next year.

It's almost like the midnight chimes and cheers and kisses and sparklers are expected to materialize into super ambitious body invading aliens to carry the resolution out for us.

This time last year, I was feeling pretty dang fine. I had just had a baby, and was confident that my first novel, The Tortures of Blight, was very close to going on submission. I made my New Year's resolution to get it sold.

That didn't happen. I didn't even get to submission, and while I was relieved to be able to step away and put the year long treck through revisions behind me, I did feel like a little bit of a failure.

What does this have to do with New Year's resolutions?

At the end of the old year, the prospect of a new untouched one seems so wonderful and refreshing. Endless possibilities, right? YES. But I think that I, as do many others out there, sort of expect some of the stuff to fall into place. You lit your heart on fire making the damn resolution to begin with, then you had a party in its honor...isn't that enough? NO. And if you end up "failing," you will get the exact opposite feeling of that adrenaline fuck-yeah-I-can-do-this rush you felt when you officially decided what your resolution was in the first place.

And when a feeling of that intensity comes over you, it will often affect how you continue living after it goes away. You'll naturally want to protect yourself from feeling that way again, and a lot of times the easiest way of making that happen is to shoot lower. Please don't do that.

There are endless possibilities for all of us, friends, no matter what day of the year it is.

Still, I don't treat this time of year like any other. I still love the New Year state of mind, but I've decided this year that instead of a resolution, I will simply evaluate why whatever resolution I would have chosen feels too difficult/scary to jump start without the advantage of the drug like anything-is-possible feeling the holiday brings.

I want to get a book deal this year. It is my dream. When I'm bored in bed at night, I fantasize about the moment it happens, I fantasize about deadlines, I fantasize about stressing the fuck out to meet them. But instead of leaving it at that, like I did last year, I'm going to put forth that focus into doing what I can to make it happen, instead of just going through the motions to get closer.

I'm not going to even think about the fantasies of being published while I'm actually writing, which I believe I did while revising Tortures and which I believe I haven't done while revising Take. And after only 3 drafts, as compared to the 9 or so Tortures endured (that could be totally off, I feel like I lost count lol) my agent is telling me that my *final* notes for Take will be on their way to me right after the new year kicks off.

For me, this new year brings hope with it, and I don't want to confine myself to a single resolution or count my success around it. There are many things that I'd like to accomplish this year: move further ahead in my career, lose some weight, save enough money to move to Oregon, yada yada yada.

But tonight as I'm counting down the final seconds left in this year, I will raise my glass and cheer and be happy about looking forward. I will be ready to take on obstacles, I will be ready to try my hardest. Giving up on a resolution is easy, giving up on a well thought out and deeply rooted goal is not.

So cheers to the new year!!! Let's go kick it in the ass, instead of just making a polite wish to do so.

-A.

Dinner

2010-12-28T11:12:00.000-08:00

It’s dinner time and we are eating Chef Boyardee Ravioli and coleslaw from a large plastic deli cup. The coleslaw sits between us, and the smell of the sickly sweet slop is much too heavy.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of dread. My father has stopped eating. Stopped moving. He looks like a mannequin, hunched over his plate with his thick glasses magnifying his eyes. I’m terrified to move or speak.

My father, in one lightning quick movement, sits upright and slams his hand into the coleslaw. It flies everywhere, huge clumps sliding over his forearm and fist. His eyes shift from the coleslaw to my face like magnets.

“I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE, BITCH.” He bellows and is suddenly wearing all black and I think no, no, it was just plain workday clothes…

Under the table, I press the fingers of my right hand into my left palm. The fingers slide through it like water. The reality test has failed and I am definitely dreaming. While part of me is relieved, my terror is making the air thick. I can’t move normally, I’m in slow motion and my father is just sitting there, spitting with rage, coleslaw running in between the fingers of his clenched fist and gathering in beads on his arm hair.

“Come here bitch,” he says, “so I can smell your hair.”

“S…stop!” I try to command, I should be in control, I should be able to make him go away go away go away.

He doesn’t go away. I can’t control the dream. I’m just aware, like a prisoner in someone else’s mind. His mind.

He grabs the meat cleaver that has appeared on the table and hacks off his own hand, the blood bleeding into the coleslaw, the smell of copper and mayonnaise. “I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!”

I wake up mid scream and throw my hands over my mouth. How long was I screaming? Did he hear me? I scramble to sit up and grab for the alarm clock that is resting on the edge of the bathroom sink. It’s 3:23 AM, I see right before the clock falls and smashes into the tile floor, the sound loud and echoing. The green glow from the clock flickers. I know it's over.

My bedroom door was open and I think I can hear movement on the carpet in my room. Then the bathroom door cracks open and I jump a foot. My father pokes his head in.

“Is everything okay, Pumpkin? I thought I heard a crash.” This is the first time he has seen me sleeping in the bathtub but he is showing no signs of any sort of realization. He gazes down at me, concerned.

“I’m okay, Dad. I just had a bad dream.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Soft voice. He starts to leave, closing the door behind him. “Just remember that I’m always right across the hall if things get too creepy.”

But they have, I want to say. And now Mom is dead.

I wait until I hear his bedroom door click shut and swing my legs over the side of the tub. I fly for the straight bleach that I've poured into a plastic spray bottle that is stashed beneath the sink. I saturate the tiles near the door where his toes overstepped the carpet, the wall where his hand rested, the door knob of the door even though it's on the outside. My nose and eyes and throat burn with a scary intensity, but I welcome it and don't attempt to move my face away from the fumes.

Within twenty minutes, I’ve written every detail of the dream into the journal and crawled back into the bathtub. Sleep comes after three pills.

Gemmaland teaser, not for lovers of coleslaw. ;)

Currently listening to: Young Men Dead by The Black Angels (Alan Wake soundtrack ftw)

Currently reading: The Silence Of The Lambs, Thomas Harris

Currently feeling: Pumped as hell to finish this book.

The Squidling Turns One

2010-12-22T20:20:00.000-08:00

Today is a Squidling post.

I have never really explained why I refer to my daughter as The Squidling, and now is as good of a time as ever: When she concentrates on something really hard, her hands and feet all start doing this crazy wavy thing, and she moves all of her fingers like tentacles. I haven't had any exclusively squiddy posts in a very long time, so I went to my blog archives and read through some of the stuff from 2009. Many of my '09 posts were about my pregnancy, and reading all that stuff totally brought it all back to me. Things like:

-The moment I knew I was pregnant. The next morning, I woke up to Sir Edmund the Hotness looking at me with the slightest smile on his face. Amazing feeling, that was. (And not at all stalker-creepy like it sounds, haha!)

-The random crying, followed by a three month period of absolute hell that was defined by saltines and Sprite. Funny morning sickness true story: when Joanna called me for the first time to offer representation, I was battling puking the whole time. I just could not bring myself to ask her to hold on, because holy-shit-a-freaking-New-York-City-literary-agent-IS-TALKING-TO-ME. The second I hung up with her, I sprinted past Eddie and promptly threw up in the bathroom. THEN I told him that I had just gotten an agent.

-The crazy ass, horrifying dreams that I seemed to have every. Single. Night.

-Finding out that I was going to be having a girl Squidling. We knew her name for a year before even getting pregnant: She would be our sweet Lily Mila.

-The incredibly bitchy hormonal random ramblings I posted on my blog.

-Being excited to balance pie on my preggo belly.

-The despair of getting "gestational diabetes" and having to STOP EATING CANDIES. *shudder*

-The super special memory of going to the hospital and finally meeting my perfect Squidling on Christmas Eve.

So since her birthday is on Christmas Eve, we had her party a few days early and she had a blast. (And ate LOTS of cake.) Today, she crawled over to the coffee table, saw something she wanted on it, and STOOD UP. As I type this, she is asleep in her own room, and we won't all be sharing a bed anymore. (She slept in her room for about a month or so when she was three or four months old, but then teething struck and we felt bad so she moved back in with us.) The fact that the transfer back to her room took only one try/night and she didn't even blink an eye makes me proud and sad at the same time.

And now as I'm looking at these old pictures, I'm crying. A lot. She was so tiny. One of my favorite memories is the first night we brought her home from the hospital and she looked too tiny in her big ass crib. We were afraid to bring her into our bed, because...*embarassed nod* we were just certain that our soft mattress wouldn't provide adequate support and she would inevitably die from SIDS if she slept on it. Hey, we were majorly sleep deprived already at that point. (Sleeping in the hospital was impossible for both of us.)

So...we slept on the futon in our living room. All crunched together. Eddie and I were both terrified of rolling over her so neither of us moved a muscle. In the morning, I found them like this:

God. I seriously can't even handle that picture.

Then she kept growing and growing, just like everybody promised. (Even though we didn't believe them.) We shot random ass YouTubes of her and took pictures on a daily basis.

Even now, I know that one years old is still a tiny baby. But to me, it feels like she's sixteen. Which makes me wonder what I'll be thinking when she really is sixteen. I'll probably freak the fuck out then come to this blog to write about it and link this exact post.

So, Lily Mila Lukavics, I know that one day you are going to be old enough to read this, and when you do I hope you can tell that your Mama would burn the world down for you. I hope you can tell that you've brought the purest form of joy to mine and your Dad's life from the second we found out I was pregnant with you. I hope you can tell that we wanted you, that we tried for you, and that no matter what you are doing in life we will be there for you.

Here is my sweet Squidling enjoying her birthday cake:

And here is what a baby who has overdosed on cake looks like:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILY!

Read It Again

2010-12-18T08:41:00.000-08:00

I read a post recently over at YA Highway by Kaitlin Ward on the topic of rereading and it definitely caught my interest straight from the title. To be honest, when I was younger I reread all the time, because it wasn't as easy to get a new book anyway and I loved the books I already had.

Then I realized that I could tell my life in stages as to which books I loved- starting with

Peter Rabbit and Mother Goose and Frog and Toad and How Spider Saved Christmas and How Spider Saved Halloween and The Teacher From The Black Lagoon (my kindergarten teacher had to pry those headphones away from me with that one,) and The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs and Freckle Juice and The Chocolate Touch and A Begonia For Miss. Applebaum and Are You There God It's Me Margaret and Amelia Bedelia and Mrs. Piggle Wiggle and Goosebumps, and Little Women and Fear Street and Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark (the art in that book is beautifully terrifying- see pic,) and the Wayside School series, and few Stephen Kings (Carrie, Pet Semetary, and The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon were my faves and the only ones I could stay with for the whole thing.) And of course, some life changing Harry Potter.

Also, um....I may or may not confess to have also been in love with The Baby Sitter's Little Sister series somewhere in there. (KAREN BREWER FTW.)

Then I got to high school and could drive to Barnes and Noble. Between the store and my school's library, I got a kind-of-wide-but-not-really variety that also constituted heavy rereading. There was Speak, and Crooked, and more life changing Harry Potter, Fierce People, the Jessica Darling series, and Running With Scissors, and The Lovely Bones, and Memoirs of a Geisha, and Hairstyles Of The Damned and How The Light Gets In and The Perks of Being a Wallflower and The Virgin Suicides (do not even get me started on rereading that one. I USED A FREAKING HIGHLIGHTER.)

Anyways, the point of all this reminiscing was that lately I had forgotten just how essential rereading is for the both the book lover and the author in me. I had only really reread Ballads of Suburbia. Since I was really new to the whole "YA" thing, I just tried to read a huge variety to drink it all in and observe and enjoy myself. Then I reread Beautiful by Amy Reed and it's like a light bulb went off. (The pages of that book are starting to get worn, seriously yo.)

I love that book so much now, way way more than I did when I first read it, even though I liked it then and read it in two sittings. It's a super-haunting-super-beautiful type of book, true to its name.

So the moral of the story is, for me anyways, rereading is just as important if not a bit more so than reading a bunch of new books right in a row.

Okay, it's time to go get ready for holiday baking day with my aunt. We are making caramel corn, peppermint bark, and sugar cookies. Mmmmmmmmm.

What about you guys, though? What are your favorite childhood/high school rereads?

-a.

Han Solo Teaches Writing

2010-11-29T08:42:00.000-08:00

I've loved the Star Wars movies since I was way little. We had the old school paper covered VHS versions that included the original trailers for each movie beforehand. So whenever it's on Spike, I usually switch right over. Yesterday was one of those days, and I was working while watching The Empire Strikes Back when Han Solo surprised me with some wonderful writing advice.

Let me take a step back and explain that when I first woke up yesterday, I logged on to check all my sites as usual and saw that funny little "So You Want To Write A Novel" video that's gone viral over Twitter and Facebook. Here it is if you haven't seen it:

The video was cute and I lol'd through it, but some of the 'facts' that were thrown out there, as well as how other authors were presenting the video, made me REALLY glad that I hadn't seen the video before getting an agent.

To Ellaborate-

1) I did NOT spend years "honing my craft." I dreamed of being a writer but never even dared to entertain the fantasy. I have been an avid reader from a very young age, true, but I seriously credit *all* of my writing ability to that because the novel I wrote and queried with was my first piece of anything that was not a school assignment, ever. Oh wait, I take that back. When I was little I wrote a short story about a girl who dreamed that the unicorn from her painting came to life and took her on a ride and in the morning she wakes up and the painting is different and OMFG IT WASN'T A DREAM AFTER ALL! But, you get the picture. That story was like, five pages long double spaced and I only wrote it because my great grandma was babysitting me that day and "insisted" *coughCOMMANDEDcough* that I write her a story.

My junior year of high school, I was ecstatic when we did a week of creative writing. Our assignment was to write a short story of any genre, and I chose horror. It was about a girl who had to move in with her estranged aunt, who lived in a forest in Ireland, and the forest turns out to be haunted and by the end the girl is in an insane asylum with a typewriter, typing the short story. I thought it was bad ass as hell. My teacher gave me a D.

2) I did NOT spend months revising the novel before I queried. In fact, this is horrifying to admit now, but I hadn't even read through it from beginning to end, and no I am not kidding. As soon as I typed 'The End,' I saved it and immediately began querying and posting snippets on Absolute Write to be critiqued. I never even completely reread it, I mean slowly from beginning to end, until quite a few rounds of revisions in.

*head/desk*

So then I started wondering, "How did I get an agent then? How did I make it this far?" And I started to feel like I'd been totally mistaken for someone with that ridiculous "it" writer talent. For anyone out there with an agent, have you ever felt like you weren't nearly as good as they think you are? Like you're a fake somehow?

Anyway, this was all brewing in my brain just because of a silly YouTube, and then The Empire Strikes Back was on and I heard Han's words of wisdom like angels singing:

"Never tell me the odds."

Rereading this now, I can see how this makes me look really lazy and unambitious, but I promise that's not the case. I was very, very serious about becoming an author from the moment I decided that I wanted to write a novel. I was just very naive, and that's okay. It should have hurt me, but it didn't. The experience of book one taught me a brain full and writing book two was even easier and now book three is going even easier than that.

I am not trying to advocate jumping the gun when writing, querying, or revising your novel. I'm not trying to say that the mistaken little dude in the video was right and that having insanely unrealistic expectations should be encouraged. Don't assume that you're a special snowflake that doesn't need to go through the process like everyone else.

But so many writers reposted that video were saying things like, "THIS IS SO TRUE!" or "I wish my friend who thinks she's a writer would watch this!" And these were agented writers! The video was a joke, which I thought was quite obvious, that playfully addressed some of the myths out there about what being a writer entails.

I really, REALLY hope that unagented people out there don't see that video and immediately think that it's impossible to get an agent, or that you have to be some super human that already knows everything about publishing to even have a chance.

Because, against the odds, sometimes that's simply not the case.

Thanks, Han Solo. Shit.

Thank You

2010-11-25T09:20:00.001-08:00

Thank you to my sweet husband Edmund, whose support and love and giggle fit inducing skills have absolutely made my life. Together five years, married four years, and about to celebrate the first birthday of our sweet baby Squidling. Edmund my love, a star shines upon the hour of our meeting.

Thank you to my gorgeous, smart, hilariously silly Lily Mila. If I am ever having a bad day, your giggle and toothy smile can turn it around in a split second. I can't believe that you'll actually be eating Thanksgiving dinner with us, you big girl you. I bet you'll love the cranberries. Also, thanks to you I now cry every time I see a birth in a movie or on TV. That is totally lame, Squidling, and it's all your fault. Keep smiling, pretty girl.

Thank you to my writer friends, who have offered support, inspiration, and a healthy serving of smart assery. The love we have for each other is kind of mind blowing. I flew across the country to meet some of you in NYC this year, and I know it won't be the last time. I love you more than you'll ever know, Kody Keplinger, Courtney Allison Moulton, Emilia Plater, and Kristin Otts (K Botts 5000).

Thank you to the good friends who have stuck by my side through thick and thin, and thank you for not bailing on me if things got tough. That means more to me than you'll ever know. Chelsea Stazenski, Emmy VanUmmersen, Jamie and Tyler Riley, Travis O'Connor, and Nick Cristea. I am so lucky to have the friends that I do. I won't post pictures of any of you, since nobody even knows I'm writing this and I don't know if you want your pics up on the blog. I LOVE YOU ALL.

Thank you to my evil overlords Luna and Frodo. You're cuddly and cute and have personality, which somehow overrides the chaos. I know it was you who peed in the pile of laundry, Frodo, but I still love you. Luna, you are such a vicious bitch to everyone that's not in the family, and I think it's hilarious. Thank you for watching over the Squidling instead of trying to eat her when we brought her home.

Thank you to my amazing fucking literary agent, Joanna Volpe. I just talked on the phone with you yesterday and now have a ridiculously unexpected burst of happiness and excitement for things that are soon to come. Joanna, I don't know why you liked me or my writing but I am so, SO glad that you did. You are so supportive and helpful and genuine and hilarious, and also you enjoy Stephen King and ninjas and The Beatles and the trailer for Cowboys And Aliens, so basically you're too radical to handle. I am SO watching 3 Ninjas ASAP.

Last and certainly not least, thank you to anyone and everyone who has ever read this blog. I'm not organized with my posts, some are pretty random, but I have 133 followers and to me that's like a million. Thank you for putting up with my random rants and excessive f-bombs.

I have so much to be thankful for.

Gooey Caramel Apple Mini Pies

2010-11-17T10:18:00.000-08:00

It's not that I'm not a fan of healthy desserts. We all know there some great options out there- fruit, sugar free stuff, etc. I love mango sherbert, or coconut pops, or those amazing Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches.

But sometimes, you just need a warm gooey dessert that is overencumbered with sugar and sugar and more sugar.

I discovered such a dessert recently, friends, and let me tell you:

THESE GOOEY CARAMEL APPLE MINI PIES MIGHT JUST MAKE YOUR MOUTHS DIE OF HAPPY. AND THEY ARE SO SIMPLE THAT EVEN MY HUSBAND COULD MAKE THEM. (No offense, my love. You do make a mean bowl of cereal!)

Make them. Make them now.

STEP ONE: Open a can of those big biscuits, or if you're like me, make someone else open the can because waiting for that jumpy POP is too much anticipation for me to handle. Get the big ones, not the small ones, and make sure you didn't get any sort of 'flaky' variety. I got the buttermilk ones and was not displeased. Lay the biscuits out on a baking sheet, and preheat your oven to 325.

STEP TWO: Slice up one green apple. That's right, you get eight mini pies for one apple. Pretty frugal. Make sure to cut them nice and thin, too.

STEP THREE: Lay the slices of apples over the biscuits........

.....and then drench that shiz in sugar. USE A LOT. The sugar is going to make the apples sweat more juice and make the gooey that much more gooey. Cinnamon next.

STEP FOUR: Bake the mini pies for eight minutes. Pull them out and squish them down with a fork. DON'T QUESTION THE INSANITY. Press down to make the sugary apple juice bubble all over and flatten the pies a bit.

STEP FIVE: Unleash the fury. You know what I mean. (Get the good stuff in the jar, by the way. The bottled stuff isn't nearly as rich. We got the butterscotch caramel.)

STEP SIX: Pop 'em back in the oven for another three or four minutes. The outsides of the biscuit should be just barely done, and the middle should still be a little gooey. Let them sit for about ten minutes before plating because they will continue baking a little bit and you'll be left with the perfect doneness.

STEP SEVEN: Commence. Stuffing. Face.

There they are, peeps. I will definitely be making a nice big batch of these at Thanksgiving. They are so good warm, but they are equally good and almost better if stuck in the fridge overnight and eaten for breakfast. It's like a fresh donut on roids.

From my satisfied belly to yours, and until next time friends!
>-A.

Nom Nom Nom

2010-11-12T10:33:00.000-08:00

Happy Friday!!

So, as promised, it's time for some FOOD. Now I probably should start out by saying that while I do enjoy a fancy-dancy recipe here and there, the recipes I want to share on this blog mostly revolve around being easy and cheap. I should also let you know that my camera isn't the best to take food shots- the pizza pictures ended up being a little bright, like the pepperonis were radioactive or something. Ha!

So these chicken flautas are pretty effin' marvelous. I fed four people really hearty portions of the flautas, homemade guacamole, black beans, and spanish rice and only spent about ten bucks. Not including the wine, mind you. :) Although margaritas really would have been ideal, I suppose.

*pulls out wand* PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR SOME SERIOUS FLAUTA WIZARDRY. (and don't you dare forget your cookin' lipstick.)

Step One: Roast a chicken. Or, if you're like me, buy one of those hot ones from the grocery store. They are perfect to use in this recipe and cost about five bucks.

Step Two: Shred the hell out of the chicken using two forks. I just put the shreds back into the bag the chicken came in because it still had some seasonings and juices at the bottom. After you've gotten all the meat, add a mega spoonful of minced garlic and some salt and pepper. Mix it all up inside the bag to evenly distribute all the goodness.

Step Three: Stick twelve yellow corn tortillas on a baking sheet and warm them for awhile in the oven, I just set the temp to 350. You just need them to be nice and warm. Don't be silly like I did the first time I tried this recipe and skip warming the tortillas up- they split easily cold or room temp. When the tortillas are warm, add some chicken on top and roll into a flauta. Secure the flauta with two toothpicks.

Step Four: Repeat it all to hell until you have twelve ready-to-be-fried flautas.

Step Five: Add enough oil to a big deep skillet so that the flautas would be halfway submerged if they were inside and heat at medium high on your stove. Once the oil is hot, carefully add the flautas, toothpicks and all. Tongs would be ideal for this task- I used two forks and it sucked.

Step Six: Let the flautas fry up for a few minutes and turn over. When they are a nice golden brown, pull them out of the oil bath and let them sit on a plate lined with paper towels to cool off and drain. Remember to pull every toothpick out before plating, haha.

Step Seven: EAT THAT SHIZ! (No picture available. Trust me, I'm doing you a favor hahaha!)

I'd like to thank my lovely cooking assistants, Chelsea and The Squidling (while Evil Overlord #1 lurks in the background) :

ALSO OMFG THE SQUIDLING CAN STAND NOW!!!!!! L:KDFJDSLKFJDSLFKJSD:LFKJ (do NOT remind me that her first birthday is NEXT MONTH I think my brain might leak from my ears.) :

-A. <3

The Beta Test

2010-11-05T18:44:00.000-07:00

Soooo....

Before, I've only had friends and very close writer friends beta for me. And up until recently, I had the exclusive perspective I needed with a volunteer who wanted to be reading my latest. But now I find myself beta-less and was wondering if you all could please share your experiences with me.

How did you find your beta readers?

Has your experience with your beta readers been uniquely helpful?

And, most importantly, how necessary would you say beta readers are?

Tell me your stories, yo. In the past, when I've come across a bump in the story, I would just email Joanna and she'd give me her (amazing) insight. But while starting out this new story, I realize that there may be quite a few bumps and we are already working on TAKE revisions together. (Draft 2 has been sent! YAY!)

Oh, and also, you should all read this. It's a blog entry by Hannah Moskowitz, who kindly points out why it's ridiculous to actually get mad when celebs score book deals or when speculations about publishing run wild. I don't know. Maybe it's because I love Snooki.

WINE BOTTLE WINNERS!!!

2010-10-08T20:31:00.001-07:00

Hello !

I am so pleased how the wine bottle giveaway went. The fact that Stephanie Kuehnert commented/tweeted made me freak out a little. (A lot!)

I also loved discovering new blogs and reading about everyone's favorite candy. Clearly, chocolate was boss. I'm a sour gummy kind of girl myself, or dark chocolate. Needless to say I was craving some good chocolate after reading through all the comments!

So now......THE WINNERS!!!!!!! If you are a winner please feel free to email me your address at amy.luka@hotmail.com. I will be mailing these out on October 22nd.

The winner of THE DUFF bottle is........

EDNA!

The winner of THE VIRGIN SUICIDES bottle is......

AURORA!!!

The winner of the ANGELFIRE bottle is.......

STEPHANIE!! (from STEPHANIE, A HISTORY)

The winner of THE BELL JAR bottle is....

MISMIKADO!

*EDITED TO ADD: I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO POST THE BALLADS OF SUBURBIA WINNER!!!!*

The winner of the BALLADS OF SUBURBIA bottle is....

NIARAE!!!!!!!

Congratulations to all the winners!! And thank you all, once again, for following this random ass blog.

Wine Bottles As Prizes ?!

2010-09-27T16:52:00.001-07:00

The time has come, The Amy said, to talk of many things.

Namely, of PRIZES!!!

I've known that I wanted to do a blog giveaway forever, but I never knew exactly what to give. I felt lame giving away books. I wanted to give away a massive candy prize, but then I ate it all.

It came to me while I was making my aunt's birthday present the other week- why not make decopaged wine bottles featuring some kick-ass books?

And to be honest, I almost fell into the Trend Trap- I was going to do a few of my faves but make sure that I got one of each genre, just to appeal to more people. I was originally planning a Hunger Games bottle, but then I realized that I had never read it (DONT THROW ROCKS AT ME PLEEZ) and any good bottle would need to come from my heart, from books that I enjoyed and were inspired by.

Which brings me to introducing you to our panel of prizes today....

BOOKIE WINE BOTTLES! Weeeeee!

I'm going to tell you why I chose each bottle as well as give a mini description of them since my camera is crap and you can't exactly see all the details well enough. We have, in order: THE BELL JAR by Sylvia Plath, ANGELFIRE by Courtney Allison Moulton, THE DUFF by Kody Keplinger, BALLADS OF SUBURBIA by Stephanie Kuehnert, and THE VIRGIN SUICIDES by Jeffrey Eugenides.

Now, a more in depth look for each bottle, and most importantly, why I chose it.

THE BELL JAR by Sylvia Plath

The front of the bottle has the cover, watercolored paper strips, and glued on pieces of broken mirror. The back has a thorned swirl design over the watercolor strips and one of my very favorite quotes from the book: "I wondered what terrible thing it was that I had done." (Esther says the line as she is being shock therapied for the first time.) I chose to do this book because of how hard it hit me once she really started losing her mind, and how truly beautiful the writing is. I almost pasted little pictures of crab stuffed avacado halves all over it.

ANGELFIRE by Courtney Allison Moulton

The front of the book is the cover with Ellie's two swords that are glowing white with angelfire. The back features some amazing art (that I did not do) of Ellie and Will. No, this book hasn't come out yet. Yes, when it does, you should buy it. Yes, I'm friends with Courtney and love her to death. None of that has to do why I chose to make an ANGELFIRE bottle. When Courtney first let me read ANGELFIRE, I was a little nervous about if I'd like it or not- As much as I'd like to say that I read a wide range of genres, the truth is that I like to stick to my faves. This book changed how I feel about that- I absolutely LOVED it. Ellie is an amazing, strong character that is able to kick serious ass, as well as conjure up some laughs with her sarcastic nature. Her dialogue is so honest that I can almost hear her talking as I read. And, I'm usually not one to crush on book boys, but Will is too much to handle. He's kind, mysterious, and truly funny in his own way. And, DUH...he's freaking hot. Winged knight in shining armor, anyone?

THE DUFF by Kody Keplinger

The bottle features the cover, kissy marks, Cherry Coke cans, and a few bumblebees. There is a quote on the back: " 'Designated. Ugly. Fat. Friend,' he clarified. 'No offense, but that would be you.' " I went to THE DUFF release party and had the time of my life, but I first met Kody when I read a snippet of Chapter One from this book over on Absolute Write. I fell in love with it then, and watching it go from that stage to full on publication has been amazing for me because I'm so proud of Kody and her hard work. And, I'm so excited that girls who feel like The Duff of their groups can easier know that they aren't alone.

BALLADS OF SUBURBIA by Stephanie Kuehnert

The front of the bottle features the cover, some broken mirror pieces, and a quote that comes from my favorite ballad of the entire book, Maya's ballad. The lyric is from Hole: "If you live through this for me I swear that I will die for you." the back features a watercolor strip picture featuring Maya (my favorite character), a needle, a razor blade, music notes, hearts, and a dripping purple paint. The first time I read this book, I literally could not stop thinking about it. It was driving me to the point of madness and I got the courage to write Stephanie my first ever fan letter. I didn't expect her to reply, but she did and when I read her message I wanted to cry. (Okay, maybe I did just a little bit.) This book handles really tough issues including cutting and drug use. The characters are so alive that you KNOW them. The insight is breathtaking. I have a signed copy and I can honestly say that is one of my most prized possessions. The book itself had me crying at certain parts, which is really rare for me. I want to send a copy of this book to every person who has ever struggled with the things that Kara does. This book changed the way I write AND read, and I dream daily at the thought of relating to readers as strongly as Stephanie did here.

THE VIRGIN SUICIDES by Jeffrey Eugenides

The bottle features the cover with a bloody hand swipe, a picket fence dotted with blood, a storm cloud raining pills, a noose, and a circle of each sister's name: Cecilia, Lux, Mary, Bonnie, and Therese. I first read this book in high school and immediately became OBSESSED with it- I'm talking rereading it to the point of no return and highlighting lines and doing a book report on it in 9th grade. I specifically remember highlighting a particularly emo line from the book in class one day when this popular golf player leaned over and started teasing me. He called me Bookworm like it was such an embarassment, but I loved the 'insult.' This book is awesome in many ways- the story, the characters, the use of certain music lyrics. In fact, the music lyrics had me constantly running to the computer to hear the songs that I hadn't heard. To this day, THE VIRGIN SUICIDES is in my top three books of all time.

Wanna win one of these bottles? All you have to do is leave a comment and be a follower of this blog. None of that +1 for tweeting +2 for blogging stuff. (Although, I'd be lying if I said that I wouldn't really appreciate a few tweets about this to spread the word.) Depending on the reaction, I might actually hold another giveaway featuring different books.

However, I do want you to mention a few things in your comment. First off, specify which bottle/bottles that you'd like the most. If any of them would work, you can say that too. (I will definitely add your name to any of the drawings that you want, but if you somehow won two or more, which I doubt would happen, I'll give you the first choice.) FINALLY, AND MOST IMPORTANT: I want you to put what your favorite candy/chocolate is. I'm a candy fanatic, and when I get to know people it's one of the first questions I ask. I want to get to know you guys.

The contest will end October 7th, I'll throw all the entries into separate containers for each bottle and choose the winners randomly.

I want to say thank you SO MUCH to every follower of this blog.

Transformation of a Query and Why Online Resources Are Hella Important

2010-09-16T15:50:00.000-07:00

First of all, I just want to say that my trip to New York City to meet my fabulous agent Joanna and attend the launch party for my online BFF Kody Keplinger's THE DUFF was a-freaking-mazing. After talking to Kody for over a year and a half, finally being able to meet her in person was so great- there was none of that awkwardness that meeting new people usually brings because we really already knew each other. We had a blast and Kody showed me around the city and we went to DYLAN'S CANDY BAR!!! (Best. Experience. Ever.) Meeting everyone was a blast and I can't wait until we all get together again.

While I was at the launch party, we were all chatting in a little circle when I mentioned to agent Diana Fox how absolutely horrible my first query draft was- the one that I had actually sent to her and received a form rejection within 24 hours.

"It was so bad," I said. "I should post a before and after on my blog just so people can feel less bad about themselves."

It was a joke, but Diana quickly suggested that I do it for real. I suddenly remembered how a lot of writers I know will actually advise newer writers not to use the Share Your Work forums at Absolute Write because the comments can sometimes be 'hurtful' or whatnot. And it's true, the waters out there are pretty choppy. But if you can look past any hurt feelings and pick out the pieces of advice that speak to you, you can end up with a nice and pretty query that will help you snag an agent. When I finished my first book, I immediately went to Barnes and Noble and picked up the Novel & Short Story Writer's Market. The cover says: "Where and how to sell your fiction: Over 1,1200 listings for book publishers, magazines, literary agents, and more."

It was in this book that I learned about the query letter, after which I immediately whipped out my first draft (shown later despire the insane embarassment I feel posting it) and snail mailed a single query out, Self Addressed Stamped Envelope style. The agent mailed my query back, and I had my friend David read me the results over the phone, since he was at the house and I wasn't.

"There isn't anything here, just the letter you wrote." He said.

"That can't be right," I said, starting to panic. "There should either be a rejection letter or a letter requesting to see the manuscript."

Silence for a few moments on the other end, then, "Oh."

"'Oh?!' What is it, David?"

"Do you really want to know?" His voice told me everything.

I tried to hide my heartbreak. "Yeah, go ahead."

"She just wrote 'sorry not for me' in the side margin."

I hung up the phone and cried. After a few hours, I decided to print up a bunch of agent names from the Writer's Market book and try again. I had to Google a few of the agency names to get the addresses, and I started noticing that an awful lot of good information kept coming to me from the same site: Absolute Write. I learned that the agent that had just rejected me was on scam alert because she had no sales and her office was in an apartment somewhere in California. (I know, right?) I joined on a complete whim and I can tell you that without the Query Letter Hell section, I would absolutely not have an agent today.

I guess I'll post the transformation of the query now. *cringes* And, just so none of you have to ask: yes the query was that bad, and yes I sent it to 25 agents. God, I know. I knoooow.

DRAFT ONE:

Dear :

After researching your agency extensively and absolutely loving what I saw, I’m writing to you with a sincere yet borderline awkward request to please consider reviewing my manuscript The Tortures of Blight. I say borderline awkward because as soon as you realize that it is my first novel and that I have no publishing experience aside from winning some random essay contest about what the pledge of allegiance meant to me in sixth grade, I am going to have to work extra hard to win over your consideration. I don’t mind if you don’t, because I can feel it in my heart (aww) that my undying passion for creative writing and books in general are strong enough to carry me to my indisputable dream of one day becoming a full time author.

This raw and sometimes merciless novel follows the life of a sarcastic, dry humored twenty-year-old woman who is currently in her second year of community college when her best friend unexpectedly commits suicide, turning her world upside down and shattering her once concrete senses of judgment and faith. The coarse language and painfully blunt viewpoints exhibit the character’s ongoing struggle to find herself while trying to deal with the curveballs that life continues to hurl at her, concluding with a somewhat unorthodox finale that I hope you won’t see coming.

Thank you, thank you, and thank you again, so much, for your time. If you are interested in reviewing the manuscript, please let me know at your convenience.

Sincerely,

Amy Lukavics

Okay, okay. Yeah. I know. My eyes are bleeding just from rereading it and I think I just puked in my mouth a little.

DRAFT TWO:

Dear :

The Tortures of Blight is my newly completed, 62,712 word contemporary/mainstream manuscript that is set in the baneful town of LeVay, Washington. Violet Nolan, a young woman in her second year of community college, is busy fantasizing about life away from LeVay when she is crippled by the news of her best friend Naomi’s supposed suicide. Although the evidence appears to be clear, Violet stubbornly refuses to believe that Naomi would kill herself and strives to find the truth while dealing with the sorrow, loss, and overall dementia of her small town life. Through a shocking course of events, Violet slowly realizes that nothing is what it seems, and that her seemingly quaint small hometown is really a black wonderland cleverly disguised in beauty and false morals. Her raw, sarcastic, and demented journey concludes with a punch-to-the-face epiphany— one that Violet was not expecting to find.

I have been writing furiously since I was seven years old, and I am currently piecing together ideas for my second novel.

Thank you very much for your time. If you are interested in reviewing the manuscript, please let me know at your convenience.

Sincerely,

Amy Lukavics

Not much better, but at least I can read it without wanting to burn my laptop and any corner of the Internet that the first query touched. The Absolute Write people ripped this one apart, as did they every draft until the very last, when there was still some 'No way' people.

I'm gonna skip ahead a few drafts here. While I only posted fifteen or so versions of the query on Absolute Write, I wrote over twenty drafts of it.

DRAFT 6

Dear :

I am currently seeking representation for my 63,000 word contemporary novel, The Tortures of Blight.

Welcome to LeVay, a one-way ticket to nowhere town that is defined by its ever so enlightening “Jesus Loves You!” bumper stickers and whippet huffing underachievers. Violet Nolan and her best friend Naomi have spent the past eight years plotting their escape to, well… anywhere. Anywhere but drugged out, bible thumping LeVay.

To Violet, the benefits of being a townie had always ended up sounding like some giant sales pitch delivered by none other than Mr. Christ himself: Be a soccer-mom- Mormon, clueless-mom-Christian, or bitter and rebellious child of one of the two. Sounds like harmonious living, right? Just don’t mention the story about the gay kid who was found beaten to death in the town square. The residents seem to have conveniently forgotten about that little tragedy, or ‘reckoning’ as some of the older folks would say.

Everything was going according to plan until Naomi hanged herself on the girls’ bunk bed post. Until that point, Violet had always considered herself to be a good friend and a good person. Now she wasn’t sure. A true friend should have been able to stop it, and Violet feared she would never come to peace with herself unless she found the truth behind Naomi’s death. The truth is supposed to set you free, right?

Wrong. Entries in a journal left behind reveal a darker side to Naomi’s relationship with her boyfriend Trent, while Violet tries to make up for her failure to Naomi by throwing herself into new friendships. Incredibly overwhelmed and equally morose, Violet begins to wonder what the truth about Naomi’s death would really bring: Liberation? Peace? Or eternal damnation?

Thank you very much for your time. If you are interested in reviewing the manuscript, please let me know at your convenience.

At least I rounded up the word count. By this draft, the critiquers were starting to wonder if the query wasn't the problem, but the story itself. I started to panic. I whipped out many more drafts, each of them as long and heavy as this last one. Ick.

FINAL DRAFT: THE WINNER

Dear :

Prep school senior Violet Nolan and her best friend Naomi cannot wait for graduation so they can escape LeVay, Washington-- a nowhere town defined by its ever-so-enlightening "Jesus Loves You!" bumper stickers and Whip-it huffing underachievers. Here, the standard of living is to marry the first guy that smiles at you, take the first job that’ll hire you, and worship the first God that’s presented to you. Not exactly encouraging for two stoners driven by a serious case of wander lust. Violet’s hope for escape is destroyed, however, when Naomi is found hanging in the girls’ dorm.

Violet continues to eek her way through senior year, but her once glowing ambitions to have a life outside of her stifling town begin to rot- the suicide of her BFF was just not something she had worked into her ‘gung ho for life’ plan. But after she finds Naomi’s sketch diary, entries that point toward strange sexual fetishes and a very insecure boyfriend leave the possibility of foul play looking extremely likely. Violet is now forced to use her new glass-half-empty outlook to try and find the truth behind Naomi’s death, no matter how ugly that truth may turn out to be.

I am seeking representation for my 63,000 word edgy YA novel, The Tortures of Blight. The manuscript is available upon request. Thank you for your time.

So there you have it. Sometimes learning the hard way really is best, I guess. And it was hard. It was hard pouring my heart over each shitty draft only to have it torn to shreds by the forum. It was hard to feel humiliated as they pointed out that I was doing almost every 'no' in the book. It was hard to watch my friends get requests for partials and fulls and offers of representation, when I had never had a partial or full request in 60+ rejections.

Luckily, I did have one thing right from the beginning: the stubborn drive to keep moving forward no matter how bad it hurt. The pain was so worthwhile, friends. My trip to NYC taught me that even more than I thought I already knew.

Let's Have A Discussion

2010-09-04T11:37:00.000-07:00

Hannah Moskowitz wrote a blog post yesterday posing a pretty big question. And after reading the comments, I felt really compelled to write about my take on her subject because honestly, didn't see any comments that mirrored exactly how I felt about the post.

Her question was:

Has the internet community changed YA?

My answer, in short, is that I think that we have zoomed waaaay too far in to something that is actually quite simple. I don't think that it's the literal answer of the question that matters here, but WHY it is being asked.

Yes, the social network is huge and allows us to connect to other writers, editors, agents, etc etc etc. Yes, there is all sorts of sugar coating and even though I'm not insanely active on Goodreads, I'll totally believe that people give false reviews just because of reputations and friendships. I have witnessed first hand the 'high school clique' like behavior that everyone commented in Hannah's blog post about.

If you look at it like that, things can get real big and ugly, fast. Like Moskowitz pointed out, the danger of your writing being changed forever is becoming a reality for some. People write to cater to Teh Intrawebz Community and change a lot of things about themselves to 'fit in'. They change their blogging style to try and blend in with all the other stuff that is going on, and in turn the blog becomes boring and washed out and the author can't figure out why. They read what everyone else is reading because it's the rage, and obviously everything that is happening within our corner of the internet is boss and widely relevant to people besides us.

This is the point where we need to stop and take a big f*king step back. We can't try to crack the code of what teenagers like. It's not a code. Teenagers that read YA are humans, just like adults that read YA. We, the writers, are humans as well. Therefore, we write what we want to read and in turn teenagers will want to read it too. Sure, the number of said teenagers will fluctuate, and there is absolutely nothing that you can do from a businessy, who-am-I-REALLY-appealing-to sort of way. I think that even trying to consider any of that crap is a huge mistake if you're writing a novel. Write the story that you need to tell, not the story that you think they want you to tell. The genre will come AFTER the story is written.

Sure, you can observe all the silly or stupid parts about the YA online community and get stressed and bummed about it. I even saw a comment on Hannah's post that said she used to love the blogosphere until she read the blog post, and now she felt annoyed and freaked out. Another person said something along the lines that we need to stop being so 'clubby' and instead encourage each other as writers.

While that's a nice thought in theory (I will be the first to tell you about how truly valuable the support from your writing friends is), people need to draw the line at how far they are allowing themselves to get into all of it.

Look at it this way: the YA online community is just like any other culture on this damn planet. Nothing is perfect, and it's our jobs as writers to set all the labeling shit aside, trudge through the terrain, and HAND PICK which pieces of advice to take, which morsels of knowledge to absorb.

And, most importantly, when you've gone too far over the line. If you honestly ONLY buy books that get good reviews on Goodreads, or have changed your writing to cater to anyone besides your characters, or have made the mistake of thinking that our online community is relevant to anyone but us, you may need to reconsider your motives.

It's very easy to get caught up in the popularity issue if you allow yourself to. Or, you can see the situation for what it is: a clusterfuck of people who are all scrambeling to achieve the same things, more or less. If you stop reading a certain blog because you feel like it's 'cliquey', you are doing nothing else except for depriving yourself of potential valuable knowledge. Don't be bitter and refuse to give them your 'hit'. Hits are worthless to everyone but us. This is a situation that can very easily go either way between gathering-life-changing-information or creative-poison.

I think that Hannah's blog post was insanely thought provoking, and I applaud her for posting it. Like Hannah said, 'We're the ones trend chasing, counting down the day till the next big YA.' Do this, and have fun, but realize that it's a completely different world than the world that helps you connect with your readers. You do that best by being genuine to yourself and writing your stories.

As much as industry professionals like to pretend they can break all of this down into marketing steps, they can not account for the anorexic girl who picked up Wintergirls and had a healing breakthrough. They can not account for the cutter who read Ballads of Suburbia and cried into her pillow in relief because they are not alone. The guy that read Perks of Being a Wallflower and decided that he wanted to be a writer.

We must not overanalyze. We must stay true to ourselves and produce the art that changes readers' lives, or at least provides them with some good entertainment. Separate the two worlds and get the best of both.

Advisable Advice

2010-08-04T11:32:00.000-07:00

Before I was agented, I always wondered what it was like to be 'in.'

Would there be some sort of magick ritual that involved my agent letting me in on The Secrets Of The Writing Universe? Would I somehow understand how crappy first drafts became manuscripts ready for submission? And most of all, would I feel more confident about my writing?

No, no, sometimes.

I read this post written by Laurie Halse Anderson this morning and had a mini epiphany. Sure, you hear it over and over and over again, 'first drafts always always suck, you'll never be completely confident in everything you write, blah blah blah'.

For some reason, it's like when we hear this advice from people who have been there and done that, our brains automatically reject it. You want to be the exception. You want to feel the same intensity of confidence and sureness as you do when you finish reading a book that you absolutely loved and can't stop thinking about. You want to create that feeling in others. You feel like being human about it will ruin the sparkly fantasy of being an author.

Maybe it was because Anderson's post was genuine and raw. Maybe it was because I realized yesterday that while I want writing to be my career, I also want it to stay fun for me, which led me to writing the first paragraph of a new MS without even outling anything about the story first. (Something I have never done.)

There are so many blog posts out there about the writing process, and which strategies make perfect formulas that yield perfect novels. Novels with the WOW factor. And while it's true that learning about the structure of books in general can help make writing yours easier, there is something that I feel like a few of us, (me), need to remember in order to make this all work.

RELAX.

We need to relax. We can't write something and have 'what will my agent think about this?' 'what will my beta readers think about this?' running through our heads the entire time and let it affect what we are writing. Some of you may remember the post I wrote awhile back about the dangers of purple prose. I wrote it because while I was revising THE TORTURES OF BLIGHT, there were so many passages that needed to be removed because they were preachy. And once I was aware of the problem, I was suddenly aware of anything and everything that could be considered even remotely preachy. I became too aware. Because I was paranoid and embarassed and felt like I was a bad writer. I hacked everything away and ended up losing so much of that 'WOW factor' that had originally made the story sparkle. Then with my second MS, I tried to stay away from anything that I thought would need to be deleted later. And TAKE ended up coming quite short.

Writing exactly what you want how you want to write it won't turn off your agent/beta readers. While it's impossible to have complete confidence in your writing, you need to have confidence in yourself enough to know that what you whip out naturally is The Stuff. The Stuff that they want to read. The Stuff they want to help you make better. If you get all tense and try to write it with all these rules and expectations lingering over you, it's going to show.

Sure, you've written an entire novel, and it's fucking exciting. But don't let that insane wtf-ness get to you and affect your original voice. The publishing industry isn't full of follow-the-guidelines robots. It has human beings that love to read stories and get that feeling, the one that inspired you to start writing in the first place.

I've always felt really uncomfortable giving any official writing advice because frankly, I never felt qualified. But then I realized that this is what the blogosphere is for. Connecting to each other as writers and artists and humans. We each put our little gems out there, and some will resonate with others, and some won't. I realized that if I feel like I've figured out something that helped me tremendously, I should share it with anyone who wants to hear it:

We need to relax. We need to stay true to our original essences, because that's The Stuff we are all going for. We just might not know it.

That first few paragraphs, riddled with run-ons. And I couldn't be happier about it.

" The only reason I am in this cooking class in the first place is because Art and ASL are full, and I’d rather gouge my eyes out with rusty arrows than take fucking PE again. I thought it’d be an easy A, you know? And now I’m slicing pieces of cucumber so thin that I can see through them and mixing a homemade dressing made with balsamic vinegar and salt and pepper and extra virgin olive oil (known as EVOO to the hip-and-with-it Rachael Ray worshipers) and wondering just who the hell eats salad at eight thirty in the morning.
“Taste, taste, taste!” Miss Brillows, the Culinary Arts teacher, says while she scuffles around the cold classroom in her chef’s hat and white coat. “If you don’t taste it as you go along, you’ll have no idea what you’re serving!”
All I know is that I’m hung over from the ten shots of gin I drank alone in my room last night and the last thing I want to do is taste a salad dressing that smells an awful lot like the vomit I released behind the bushes in front of the school thirty minutes ago. "

Video Game Review: ALAN WAKE

2010-07-18T12:44:00.001-07:00

So, I've never blogged about a video game before. I've thrown it out there a few times that I'm a fan of them, but as soon as I started the game, I decided that I wanted to do a blog on it, no matter what the outcome. By the time the end credits were rolling I knew that the blog was going to kick ass.

Because, my friends, ALAN WAKE is a game that will fucking blow you away. It made me scared of the dark and had me opening the shower curtain every time I was in the bathroom. The game is set up into 'Episodes', with each episode ending with credits and a song. (The music in this game is rad, by the way. More on that later.)

The story follows a bestselling author (can you guess his name?) as he takes a trip to a remote town called Bright Falls to relax and get away from the horrendous writer's block that's been plaguing his life back home. Once Alan and his wife get into town, they head to a (creepy) cabin, where his wife vanishes under (creepy) unusual circumstances. Suddenly he wakes up in a crashed car in the forest and it's a week later, and he has no idea how he got there.(Trying to leave spoilers out.) While he tries to find his wife, he realizes that he is being stalked by an evil force that brings alive the scary-as-fuck characters from his latest novel. Oh, yeah- and he doesn't remember writing it. The novel, that is. You get to find it, page by page, as you venture through the game. The pages are in manuscript style and reveal creepy ass things about the story. Thank GOD Wake's literary agent Barry is there to provide comic relief. (Hey, Joanna, if I ever take a vacation and get into a load of paranormal trouble, I fully expect you to hop a ferry and come help me survive. Just sayin'.)

The game opens with a Stephen King quote and keeps you hooked from there. It really is like playing through a psychological thriller movie- there are twists and plot points that keep you guessing until the end. And while there are items and secrets you can find by wandering off the main path, Wake is constantly on the move to find his wife, which makes it realistic and captivating.

The story is terrific. There are plenty of cinematics and the setting, Bright Falls, was so deliciously cliche. Everything about the good old 'small mountain town in the woods' was placed perfectly- the avid Wake fans, the annual Deer Fest celebration, the sinking feeling you get in your stomach when you realize that nobody there is quite right. The graphics for the setting are awesome. (The graphics for the character faces were pretty good, a little awkward in places but still good enough to completely satisfy me.)

As far as game play goes, I played it on the 'hard' setting, which made it pretty tricky in places but I got through it without too much hassle. Enemies are "The Taken," which are basically townsfolk that have been overcome by the darkness and come after you with axes and farming knives and shit. Before you shoot them, you have to shine your flashlight on them for a certain amount of time to break the darkness. It sounds easy enough, sure. But then suddenly there are a bunch chasing you, some throwing axes some swinging axes, and you're dodging (in bad ass slow mo, might I add) them and trying to decide which to shine your flashlight on first. There are also possessed items like tractors and metal beams and truck tires that hurl at you from the darkness. Luckily, there are also items like flares and flashbangs that help you when you're in desperate need of some light. You can also listen to songs on the radio and watch a Twilight Zone-like show called Night Springs on the televisions scattered about. If you're a Twin Peaks fan, get ready for some fun.

A major side benefit of this game is the AMAZING soundtrack (you put da liiime in da coconut and drink 'em bot' up). I have it now, thanks to my good friend that burned it for me.

The entire thing is awesome and I can not wait for the DLC (downloadable content) to come out so I can experience more. Like I mentioned earlier, the game is set up in six Episodes, and this first game is considered to be the first 'season' of Alan Wake like it's a television show. I just hope that Alan Wake 2 doesn't take as long to make as the first one did.

But seriously, yo. Buy the game, play it in the dark with the sound up, and prepare to virtually experience a horror movie.

For the final word, my friends, let me ask you this question: When you're overcome with revision worry and complete-the-first-draft worry and can't seem to bust out as many words as you'd like to be, what's better than sneaking through a dark forest and killing ax murderers from someone elses's novel?

Why I've Been Gone

2010-06-19T23:50:00.001-07:00

You guys have no idea how many times in the past week or so that I've laid in bed at night thinking about what exactly this blog post would say. I knew that I'd have to blog about it, but whenever I'd try I'd get this heavy feeling in my stomach, and it really pissed me off that I didn't know what the feeling was. I figured I shouldn't post "Teh News" until I had not only figured out what the feeling was but could blog about it as well. There were a few times I thought I was ready, then I'd open this window and feel funny all over again and before I knew it the window was closed and I was scrolling through Twitter to distract myself from announcing the inevitable:

THE TORTURES OF BLIGHT is dead.

For now, anyways.

I realized about five minutes before I wrote this post that the feeling that was bothering me before that I couldn't quite identify was embarrassment. I was terrified to come on here and announce that the book I've been working on for almost a year, that so many of you have been constantly cheering me on for, was beyond repair for the moment.

Get ready for the biggest run on sentence ever, BTW.

I was embarrassed because although all the blogs constantly yell at you "Everybody takes their own time," or "the YA community is completely supportive and encouraging," or "Make your own rules, just learn how to pull them off," I can't shrug off the fact that some of the novelists I follow get annoyed if a new novel takes more than two months for them to complete, or the fact that some of the YA heroes that so many look up to will give their good advice then turn around and shit talk like you wouldn't believe about other authors (and seem to forget that people talk), or that making my own rules has only made my book take steps backwards.

In a nutshell, I knew that this was for the best because for one, I'd been expecting this. NOT because I am a crazy pessimist or anything, but because I knew deep down that through the multiple rounds of revisions, TOB was slipping through my fingers. I was losing passion for it, for sure. (And that's another thing I've been embarrassed about. It seems like unless you gush over your first novel and only love love love it, you're a weirdo.) I wrote the book 3 years ago and my writing style and interests in general are just...different. The content in the book, dealing with death in particular, was something that was so fucking personal to my life at the time that revising it over and over again became difficult and even unbearable at times. And I never told anybody.

When Joanna called me and told me that she thought we should put it aside for now to focus completely on TAKE, I think I surprised her with my lack of despair. It's true that I cried randomly a few hours after I hung up, but that's because I was afraid to tell anyone. Especially people that aren't into publishing and don't know anything about it. I could already see the eye rolls and looks of "I told you so". And the same goes for the Internet. I was embarrassed.

But now I realize that this entire process is nothing to be embarassed over. Joanna told me over the phone, with such sincerity in her voice, that some authors write six books before they get their break. (At this moment in time, I consider the 'break' as being published. I know that some pubbed authors get over that joy quickly and redefine the 'break' as living on the beach with a laptop, but for me, just holding a book that I wrote in my hands would do the trick just nicely.)

TAKE is almost done and I'm very excited to work on it with Jo. If it goes good, awesome. If I have to write another book, oh well. I did start up with this 'author thing' with the intention of writing books for a very, very long time. Misses are a part of the game, and I signed up for this knowing that it isn't all easy peezy.

It's so funny to think about it. I was originally planning on disappearing from the Internet until I'd finished TAKE so I could be like, "But look! I have a replacement!" As if that would change the situation somehow or make me feel better about myself.

I don't really know what happened with TOB. If my writing jumped the plank, or if I cut too much in the last round, or whatever. I'm no longer afraid of the high and mighty judges online or in real life because I think I've finally realized that nobody is perfect and that what I'm 'dealing' with is a very, very good problem to have. So many authors would kill just to have an agent as amazing as mine. I couldn't be more thankful for Joanna. And something that bothers me more than anything else is when published writers complain like the world is going to end because an unexpected editing obstacle has risen, or something of the sort. I'm not going to do that here. I'm going to finish TAKE and I'm going to (hopefully) kick its ass and that’s as far ahead as I dare to look right now.

The biggest thing I need to get across here is that I'm not wallowing about this. There's some sadness there, but not the kind that you think. Nothing has changed about me, or how I look at my writing. Nothing has changed about my potential future.

I'm just a stay at home mommy who has the sweetest baby girl I could have ever dreamed of, and I'm lucky enough to have a husband that works from home too. I also am lucky enough to have a best friend that lives just down the street that has always been interested in what's happening with my writing, no matter what stage I'm in. My cheerleaders are the ones that make this much easier for me. And my daughter could care less about my writing achievements or failures.

I don't even view this as a failure, by the way. It's just a thing that will one day be years behind me.

In the mean time, I'm gonna be busy bustin out some words.

I do want to say thank you to the many, many people who have supported TOB for so long. I'll never forget your support and I hope that I haven't disappointed anybody.

I'm drooling over these prizes....

2010-05-27T12:24:00.000-07:00

Yo. Everyone who is a reader and would like to win one of the most massive book/ARC giveaways EVER should go on over to YA Highway and enter that shiz!!!

This prize package is too insane not to join, people.

<3

Hey guys, let's make some deep dish pizza.

2010-05-13T23:53:00.000-07:00

Greetings you all!

After I had Lily I knew that I wanted to add something new to my blog, since pregnancy updates weren't really valid anymore. One of my most enjoyed hobbies is cooking, so I thought, what the hell. I'm going to switch off from now on, between writing related blogs and step by step with picture recipe blogs. This week I bring you deep dish pizza. The dough is made from scratch and the sauce is semi-homemade. If you make it, you best give me a picture bish!!

STEP ONE: Apply your cookin' lipstick. Preferably in an obnoxious shade of red. You know it will make the food taste better.

STEP TWO: Gather the materials needed to make the crust. Combine 1 cup of warm water, 1/2 tsp salt, 1 tsp garlic or onion powder, 1 T instant yeast, 2 T honey, a lil spoonful of minced garlic, and 1/4 cup olive oil in a mixing bowl. Use a wisk to combine that shiz. Slowly add in 3 1/2 cups flour, ditching the wisk when it becomes necessary and using your hands.

STEP THREE: Knead the dough on a floured surface. Keep at it until the dough looks legit, Food Channel style.

STEP FOUR: Put that ball o' dough into a lightly oiled bowl and cover with a damp paper towel. Let it rise until it's doubled in size, usually like forty minutes.

(See? Big dough. That's what she said. Punch it down and let it rise once more.)

STEP FIVE: Gather all the materials needed to make the sauce. Use an 8 oz. can of tomato sauce and add a few tablespoons of tomato paste. Add sugar to kill the acidity and garlic salt, pepper, a little minced garlic, and hella oregano to taste. I personally made a little bit more because I'm a saucy kind of lady.

STEP SIX: Roll out that dough using a rolling pin, again on a floured surface. The shape is really up to you; you can use any kind of pan you'd like- a cookie sheet, a glass cake pan, a stone pizza pan type thing. I personally enjoy the glass cake pan because the deep dish crust is oh so deepy.

STEP SEVEN: Chop up any toppings that tickle your fancy. As you can see, I opted for fresh green pepper and pineapple, pepperoni, and jalapenos.

STEP EIGHT: Lay the dough into your preferred pan and cover with a THICK layer of cheese. I didn't use any cheese because I'm a freak of nature who hates cheese of any kind, including cream cheese/cheesecake. I wish I was kidding. No, I'm not lactose intolerant. I'm just a weirdo. Layer the toppings over the cheese.

STEP NINE: Pour and spread the sauce over the topping and cheese. And since I lika da spice, I sprinkled crushed red pepper on top.

STEP TEN: Bake that shiz at 375 until the crust is golden brown, usually twenty minutes or so. Since my oven is the crazy hot oven from hell, it only took fifteen minutes for me.

STEP ELEVEN: Eat that shiz. Yes, I have Christmas lights decorating my living room in the background all year round. That's just how I roll.

I hope you all enjoyed this random, new direction I decided to take. I just love food, dudes. I think that next time around I'll whip out some chicken chow mein, or beef stew, or something.

Love!

Go read this...NOW!

2010-04-02T14:27:00.001-07:00

As I said in the comments, when I read this blog post I sort of felt like my amazing new agent sister Veronica Roth had somehow broken into my brain and spied on my most crazy lines of thought.

Read this shiz!!!!

Rah, AH, Ah-Ah-Ah, Rah-Mah, Rah-ma-ma

2010-03-30T16:09:00.000-07:00

Don't laugh at me, you know that the song is catchy as hell. But I needed a fun song to listen to while I wrote this, because even though I'm so excited about my interview today, I've been a bad girl. (Get your mind outta the gutter.) My post today is about what I've dubbed my Epic Fail secret.

I was recently interviewed by the super awesome creator of Baby Animal of the Week (eee!!) Kirsten Hubbard. Take a lookie!!

In other news, this week is my official Get Hella Work Done week. I just got my most recent round of revision notes from Joanna. I enjoyed the non-hardcore-ness of it, and I can't wait to get them done. This sort of brings me to something that is embarassing, but I know that I should talk about it because I want to save other people from making the same (stupid-stupid-stupid) mistake that I did.

So, uh...I kind of sort of haven't been reading ToB from beginning to end in past revisions. I don't remember the last time I read through it, actually. I'd just been concentrating on the exact parts that needed the work, instead of viewing the entire thing as a whole. This, my friends, is probably the reason that it's taking me so freaking long to get this thing ready for sub. I obviously didn't realize how big of a deal it was at first, but after learning all sorts of stuff online through other blogs, and yes, even Twitter, I knew that I needed to come out of the closet with my Epic Fail secret.

When I admitted this to Jo, she was super sweet about it, but still: "You DEFINITELY should be rereading ToB every time. This helps you to see it better, bigger picture-wise."

When I admitted this to Kody, my agent sister, writing buddy, and all around online BFF, her reaction was: "What the fuck was she thinking? How can she even do that? How does she know where to edit? How does she remember her story? She is insane." Then: "She being you."

Well Kody, let me go ahead and answer those questions, one by one. I don't really know what I was thinking, I really can't even do that I just tried anyway, this would explain why I was confused on where to edit at times, and uh...I have seemed to forgotten lots of bits about my story.

You see, people? Epic. FAIL.

This is one of those things that you don't realize how hideously obvious the mistake was until you are saying it out loud to others. You'd think it was common knowledge. Hell, it might be. I may be the only one silly enough to have figured that all revisions worked that way. All I know is that people sometimes have the belief that just because you have an agent, you just magically know the best way to do everything when it comes to your writing. I'm pretty much the living example that the notion is hella false.

Thank the maker for Teh Intrawebz. If it hadn't have been for the other writers letting observers know how they do what they do, I would have continued this pattern of Epic Fail until I pulled my hair out and threw the damn computer out the window.

So that being said, it's time to go tackle those edits. And before I touch anything, I'm going to freaking read my novel from beginning to end. I'll let you know how big of a difference it makes, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be quite large.

My Vlogging Debut

2010-03-14T13:01:00.001-07:00

Sigh. I told you all that this was coming, and yes there is still a Snuggie involved.

I had such a great time filling in for The YA Rebels this week so Kody could pack for her trip to San Diego. Such a great time, in fact, that I've decided to start vlogging right here on 'hello, moon' once I go on submissions. I'm just sayin'. It's coming, people.

Because I'm totally one of THOSE moms....

2010-02-23T13:51:00.001-08:00

Her smile in the last frame makes me all like, 'Awwww shiz."

Hey! Teenager of the Year

2010-02-22T23:22:00.000-08:00

So Steph Bowe is this awesome possum 16 year old author from Australia who has a pretty sweet freakin' blog. Currently, she's running a contest that has three prizes, two of which I am freakishly interested in-

1) A blog or website created by her (she does good work, and I obviously need to vamp up this sad excuse of a blog. This color scheme and lack of graphics is just... depressing.)

2) A query critique and first five pages crit (I wouldn't use this, since I'm lucky enough to say I'm out of Query Letter Hell)

3) ARC's of NO AND ME by Delphine De Vigan and THE PIPER'S SON by Melina Marchetta (ARCS ARCS ARCS! I CAN HAZ ARCS?!)

GO! GO! GO!

That is all.

FINALLY!!!!

2010-01-05T17:04:00.001-08:00

Hello everybody!! Beware of the epically long blog post below.

I apologize for the delay in posting this, but they really arn't kidding when they say that having a baby is freaking hardcore as hell. In every aspect! However, I'm pretty proud to say that I returned to freelancing last week and even did some revisions last night, and plan to do more tonight. I also just cleaned the condo, took a shower, served up some veggie soup, AND am now sitting to write this here blog post. So basically, I'm getting the hang of this thing. Huzzah! I feel like a magician. A furious magician. (If you got that reference, you are entirely made of awesome.)

Let's turn back the clock to Tuesday, December 22rd. (BTW, it absolutely blows my mind that this was two weeks ago. It really feels like it's only been a few days.) I went in to my normal check up, but instead of seeing the nurse practitioner like usual, I saw the actual doctor. He looked over my chart and told me that he didn't like how unsure everyone was as to if I really had gestational diabetes or not. He told me that he wasn't comfortable with letting me go past my due date and scheduled me to be induced on December 30th.

Eddie and I were wiggin' out, man. Only eight days away! We couldn't believe it, so we proceeded to freak out over the intrawebz and loaded our Facebook updates with 'Lily is coming December 30th!'

Ha.

The next morning, December 23rd, we went in the office at 8:45 am to get the ultrasound. It was just to make sure she wasn't a mammoth baby that would require a c-section for her escape. Turns out my amniotic fluid was low. They hooked me up to a stress test, which was basically me sitting in a Lazy Boy hooked up to this moniter while Eddie and I talked about the art of trash talking over Halo on Xbox Live for thirty minutes or so. They unhooked me, and I thought we were ready to go. Now, I used to work at the OB GYN office that we were at, so I'm friends with all the medical assistants. The one that was working whispered to me that the doc wanted to induce me today. WHA WHA WHAAAAAAT?!?!?! We sat oh-so-patiently in the waiting area while we waited for the doctor to talk to us. Now, we looked pretty calm, but we were both pretty much feeling like cheetahs on crack.

The doctor called us in, and it was official: He wanted to induce me. Now. All I could think about was the fact that I hadn't showered that day, and had always planned to meet my new baby with a pretty face of makeup and done up hair. (Afterthought: LMAO.) He said we could go home to shower but needed to go to the hospital afterward.

I'm surprised we didn't crash on the way home. We pretty much took turns squealing like school girls and saying over and over and over, 'I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe it. What the hell. WHAT THE HELL!?' We dialed numerous phone numbers with shaky fingers to announce it, came home, took showers, got the hospital bag, and of COURSE updated our Facebooks. Ha!! We got to the hospital, they hooked me up to an IV, and the first dose of induction medicine was, er...shoved into me. Then it was time to wait.

The excitement faded pretty quickly when it became apparent that I was making very little progress. We hung around in the room all day with family and stuff, joking and smiling and taking pictures. Hey, labor isn't so bad after all, I thought to myself. (Sigh. Naivety at its finest.) The doctor announced that they weren't going to induce any further until the next day to avoid a 4 am delivery.

The induction continued at 4 am the next morning. By 6 am, I was starting to feel slightly annoyed by the contractions. Nothing too intense. I thought again, this isn't so bad. My family returned to hang out in the late morning, and by probably about noon or 1, the contractions were officially bothering me. My mother held my hand and stroked my back while Eddie slept in a twisted fetal position on a horribly uncomfortable chair. Poor guy.

Now, if you all remember, I was TERRIFIED of the idea of an epidural. Not in a feminist, I-don't-want-drugs-to-hurt-my-baby sort of way. It was more in a how-the-fuck-could-I-stand-an-IV-in-my-freaking-BACK sort of way. Let me tell you, by the time 5 pm rolled around, the pain took over the fear. Just like everyone promised it would. That's not to say I wasn's absolutely petrified as they were doing it. Eddie had to sit in front of me and talk me down the entire time it was happening. But after it happened, I suddenly couldn't feel the contractions. Or my legs, for that matter. I was able to sleep for about an hour and a half.

I noticed that I could feel the contractions again suddenly on my left side, enough to be bothering me again. The nurse suggested that I turn on my left side to make the medicine pool over and cover the pain. The second they turned me over, it was like magic. BLACK MAGIC. I could suddenly feel the contractions full on, yet my legs were still numb and dead to the world. I started crying out, and within twenty seconds they moved me on my back again and told me it was time to push. I was so pissed that the epidural only seemed to be working on my legs.

Lots of pushing, a few screams, and one massive cut later, (my mother swears my face was purple,) Lily came into the world in one swift push. It's true what they say. I didn't care she was covered in goo. (She actually was less gooey than I pictured.) I didn't care about the pain. Everything was okay. Everything was wonderful. She didn't even cry, at all. She just stared up at me with her ginormous eyes. She's perfect. It didn't even bother me that she was born on Christmas Eve.

Recovery is a bitch. They say that you don't want to leave the hospital because everyone takes care of you, but I wanted to go home so bad I couldn't stand it. Staying for two more days was torture.

We're home now and finally have a schedule set up so that we don't go insane from lack of sleep. Eddie takes the 12am-6am shift while I sleep, and I take the 6 am-12pm shift while he sleeps. It's working well, especially since Eddie works at night anyways and usually stayed up until 3am pre-baby anyway. And I just need to take this opportunity to say that Eddie has been the most amazing, AMAZING daddy/husband-of-hormonal-wife. He should win an award, or at least a platter of his favorite cookies.

Life. Is. So. Good.

Fresh outta the freakin' womb.

More recent. Sweet little Lily bug.

Holy Freaking Guacamole

2009-12-15T16:35:00.000-08:00

Oh man, dude. I am just about at 38 weeks along now.... how wild is that? I can NOT believe that there are only two more weeks (and hey, maybe less) before I get to actually look at and hold my sweet little Lily bug. I'm getting my fat pictu- er, I mean maternity pictures done tomorrow.

Yeah, yeah. When I first started trying to get pregnant, so many women that heard would be like, 'Oh really? You'll LOVE it. I LOVED BEING PREGNANT! I would be pregnant all the time if I could, it's just so cool." Well, uh... I'm not really sure what kind of experience those women had, but I'm good and ready to be un-preggo again. Don't get me wrong, it hasn't been a particularly hard pregnancy. Sure I was sick all day every day for the first four months, but it's not like I had a job to go to or anything, I was lucky enough to be at home and even land a legit stay at home job. And yeah, this blood sugar thing sucks a little, but since my numbers have been fantastic and I've discovered sugar free Cherry Coke, it really hasn't been too much of an issue. (Although I am still planning on devouring a box of Jujubes and numerous Sour Punch straws after I give birth.)

Being pregnant has been cool for sure. Feeling her kick and watching Eddie's face the first time he felt her kick and all that mushy stuff got to me how all the cheesy 'mommy moments' promised they would. I'm just so freaking excited for her to be OUTSIDE of my body. I'm excited to drink wine, (or even better, the occasional Long Island Iced Tea), sleep on my stomach, get my next tattoo, and tickle the Lily's belly. My friend recently asked, "Arn't you gonna miss it? Even just a little?" I really have to be honest and say no. This certainly isn't the last time I'll get to experience pregnancy, so for now, I'm totally good man. Let these ridiculous shenanigans end.

BRING IT ON LABOR! BRING. IT. ON!!!!!

Okay, okay. Enough fantasizing about not being a huge whale anymore. The writing side of things have gotten really, REALLY exciting lately. The latest round of revisions of TOB have gone surpremely well so far, so well in fact that I think I can actually see the Submissions Light at the end of the tunnel. And even better, Joanna was really into what I have to far of Take. I was so afraid to send it to her because, well...you know. I'm paranoid as fuck. Luckily though, Joanna said that from the little I've sent her so far she feels like I've improved and am displaying stronger skills and all that. YESSSS! Huzzah! Woo hoo! Music to my ears! Let's get this party started, yo.

So...that's about it as of now. This week, next week, and the week after are completely penciled in with articles to make Christmas and 'When Lily Gets Here and Eddie Takes A Week Off' money and Take and the last of the TOB revisions. I have a feeling it will make the next two weeks fly by and I'll be the crazy baby lady before I even know it.

The revisions are almost done. The hospital bag is packed. The up and coming new year is going to be the most exciting, happy year of my life. And I'm so ready.

Happy Happy AGENT DAY!!

2009-12-11T07:00:00.000-08:00

Yes, yes, yes. It's true. Superstar author Kody Keplinger decided to put her ridiculously amazing networking skills of magick to work once again and organize a massive- and I do mean massive, people- official Agent Appreciation Day.

The idea is to share with the world exactly why we love our agents oh so very much. Now, I was on board the minute I received the, er, bulletin of sorts proposing this special blogosphere event. For one thing, I have the best agent ever. Sorry to gloat, but it's true.

Joanna Stampfel-Volpe, for those of you who havn't read my endless entries of ass-kissing to her in the past, is a force to be reckoned with. She has been mentioned on countless publishing blogs, published author blogs, non published author blogs, and aspiring author blogs. Her sales record for the amount of time she's been out of the old internship and into agentdom is incredibly impressive. Everyone knows it, and other Super Agents like Colleen Lindsay and Janet Reid have made it clear that Joanna is freaking amazing. Just sayin'.

How I managed to snag her, I still sometimes wonder. But I thank my lucky stars every single day that I did. SO, without further ado (a'do? a due? fondue?) here is my list of why Joanna Stampfel-Volpe is quite literally one of my favorite people ever.

1) She loves The Beatles. Before I was represented officially, Joanna dropped me an email to tell me that she'd heard Eleanor Rigby on the radio and that it had made her think of The Tortures of Blight- and Violet, the MC, in particular. You can barely imagine how that made me feel inside. Since then, I've also learned that one of the only songs she remembers that played at her wedding was All You Need Is Love- the closing song. She was ecstatic to receive Beatles Rock Band. So in short, it just so happens that my agent and I share a fiery passion for the best band ever.

2) She sent me a giant Zombieland poster for my birthday. Need I say more?

3) She goes the extra, extra mile. It's no secret that Jo has a true love for stories, but it has become more apparent to me every time we go through another round of revisions. Especially the most recent round, which has been by FAR my favorite and the one that's produced the highest amount of 'holy shit this is really happening to me' adrenaline. I can't believe how much time, thought, and energy Joanna has put forth for ToB. It takes my breath away. She has taught me so much about my own writing, and I can honestly say that what I've learned is carrying over to my new stuff. Woo to that!

4) She apparently knows where Dylan's Candy Bar is. AND PLANS TO TAKE ME THERE ONE DAY! You know what they say. The way into an Amy's heart is through candies. Lots and lots of candies.

5) Because of her, I have a career. It seems obvious, I know. But, dude...me...CAREER! Who would have thought? Not I, that's fo shizzle.

6) She recommends really, REALLY good books. Again, not a surprising quality found in an agent. But still, I appreciate it.

There you have it, my lovelies. I've proclaimed my undying respect and love for Jo on my blog so many times before, but I'm really glad that Kody put together this official Agent Appreciation Day. The agents deserve it for all of their hard work. Joanna deserves it. Just ask anyone who's ever worked with her, and even a lot of people that havn't. She's just that awesome.

Gobble-Gobble

2009-11-25T16:59:00.000-08:00

Hello all of yous!

As we all know, tomorrow is the epic day of Thanksgiving. I can't believe that December is almost here. I can't believe that Lily will be here so soon. But mostly, I can't believe that my pregnant-Thanksgiving Day fantasy is going to come true.

Way before I even started trying to get pregnant, I always told my friends that I sincerely hoped I'd be 'super fat pregnant' during Thanksgiving so that I could balance numerous pies and maybe a roll on my gigantic belly. Tomorrow, people, the vision will come to life. Get ready for a feasting. I'm making a sweet potato pie tonight to bring tomorrow, special thanks to the amazing Loretta for the recipe!

So, I'm gonna go ahead and jump on the Thanksgiving-Blog bandwagon and post a list of things I'm thankful for.

1) My husband Eddie. He's super hot. Oh, and he's also really nice in the fact that he supported us for a looooong time by himself before I got the freelancing job or an agent. He's worked so hard and I couldn't be more thankful for it. He never questioned me, doubted me, or dimmed my spirits. In fact, he was quite encouraging. It's been three years and I'm still wondering when what others have dubbed our 'newlywed stage' will end. I love you, Sir Edmund.

2) New family members are quite amazing. It bends my mind to think that this time next year there will be a sweet little Lily bug to enjoy the holidays with us, and that Eddie and I will have officially started our family. Eeee! Also, my brother got engaged recently, and it just so happens that my new sister-in-law is now one of my very best friends. She and I are alike in so many ways and I can't believe that she's here to stay. Hells to the yeah.

3) Frodo and Luna. Don't call me a crazy cat lady or I'll sick my feline minions on you.

4) The ferocious four, aka the amazing group that consists of me, Eddie, Jason, and Calikas. All we do is sit around, eat, laugh, and play lots and lots of Left 4 Dead and Halo 3. These are the best times ever. What I'm most thankful for in this group is that Jason and Kas are (almost) as excited about Lily being here as me and Eddie are. They can't wait for her to be here, and I know that these are two best friends that I won't lose after my life changes and I have a baby with me at all times. They rock the socks.

5) My freakin' sweet ass agent, Joanna Stampfel-Volpe. Whenever I realize that she's really my agent and actually likes working with me, I get all shivery and full of disbelief on the inside. Yeah, she's that good. I am the luckiest girl on earth, for many reasons. Jo is one of those reasons. PS, I got the next round of revisions for The Tortures of Blight underway, and once again, I'm amazed at how much the manuscript is gonna improve.

6) All the super amazing online writing friends that I've made in this journey. Kody, K Botts 5000, Emilia, Stephanie, Krista, Loretta, Lisa and Laura, I love you all!

7) The fact that I got all my Christmas decorations today so that I don't have to go out on Black Friday. I think I may have a heart attack if I attempt to be amongst all the raging, foaming-at-the-mouth shoppers. Instead, Black Friday will be dedicated to cooking my first turkey, baking an apple pie, curling up in winter pajamas with a book and decorating the Christmas tree. Oh, I'm also going to be making fried sausage stuffing balls. You know you wants some.

Okay okay let's not go overboard here. I've got that sweet potato pie to make, closets to organize, and articles to write. Thanks for reading. You guys are all amazing.

Want to win a Kindle?!

2009-11-06T11:56:00.001-08:00

I know I sure as hell do. Some of the lovely ladies whose blog I follow quite religiously, Lisa and Laura, have just sold their book The Haunting of Pemberly Brown (Sourcebooks Spring 2011) and are obviously pretty freaking excited.

They are just that awesome in the fact that they are having a Kindle GIVEAWAY! If you want to enter the contest, mosey on over to this link: http://lisa-laura.blogspot.com/2009/11/spread-love-win-kindle.html

Congratulations, Lisa and Laura! You girls rock the socks, yo!

Candies, NaNo, and a Belly That Rolls...A Lot.

2009-10-21T21:24:00.000-07:00

Hello yous!

There have been a few things that I wanted to share with you all, first and foremost is that I saw a special on Food Network about all things candy. To those of you who don't know me personally, one of the most defining characteristic traits I have is that I am addicted to candy. Now you may say to yourself, 'Ha ha, we all like candy. This is just another girl who enjoys it, therefore she claims to be addicted.' However, if you ask anyone who has ever surprised me with candy and seen my face as they gave it to me, you'd know that my pure holy joy about candy is pretty above average. I scream with glee. I immediately tear it open and start eating. I. Fucking. Love. Candy. If that had been me at the end of Conan the Barbarian (the unedited director's cut, not the PG theatrical crap), and Arnold had been hacking my head off with a sword, it is entirely likely that Sour Punch Straws, Skittles, and Jujubes would have sprayed everywhere instead of blood. Yeah. I went there.

So anyway, I was innocently watching this Food Channel special when I was introduced to a place that I never dreamed existed here on planet earth. And that place, my friends, is called Dylan's Candy Bar. A candy place that is so huge and famous, they actually do birthday parties elite style. Apparently it's located somewhere in NYC and has, like, every candy ever. They have Jujubes and Sour Belts, which automatically makes them awesome. However, they also have these things called Peachy Penguins, which look like little black penguins, all cute and stuff, but they taste like PEACH! WHO THE HELL INVENTED SUCH A GENIUS CONCOCTION!>!>!!!?!!?!?!?? If I ever get to go to NYC, it is crucial that I get my hands on some of these Peachy Penguins. Here is a picture of them. As I stare at it, my eyes glimmer with hope and my mouth waters.

By the way, if you have a free few minutes, click on this link and know that what you're seeing is bliss in jpg form. http://www.dylanscandybar.com/candy_sours-gummys/_/showAll/1/

Next order of business, now that I've forever changed your lives with the above link, is NaNo. I'm in the middle of revising The Tortures of Blight, as I've mentioned before, and before I heard about NaNo I planned on not starting another book until TOB was on submission. I'm not claiming that I had any good reason to feel this way. In fact, now that I've thought about it, it was quite stupid. But my new WIP outline needed major, major tweaking and I felt like I wasn't emotionally invested in it at all, which made it difficult to step forward. Then the lovely Kody Keplinger, my online BFF and YA author fantastico, (when fall 2010 comes around, buy her book THE DUFF, pubbed by Little Brown/Poppy. It's amazing) told me that November was National Write a Novel Month.

The idea of whipping out a goal of 50,000 words in one month made my eyes cross at first, but then I started thinking. It's totally possible. In fact, it's totally possible to surpass that 50K goal, since I work from home and have the amazing opportunity that is Hella Freetime. I dug my new outline, dusted it off, and reworked it to hell and back. Which is why I'm really frakkin excited to announce....

On November 1st, (okay there's already a little bit written and I might cheat and write more before then) I will begin writing my new edgy YA novel, which at the moment is titled Take. It's about a teenage klepto who goes on a mission to steal elements of happiness from others in hopes of turning around her glass-half-empty outlook on life. Her logic is twisted, she's sort of a bitch, but since it's being told from first person you will find yourself understanding her a lot more than you'd think. It's gonna be one of those, 'Why do I love this MC' sort of situations. I am incredibly excited to write it and have already become emotionally attached to a few of the characters, which is very unlike me. HUZZAH!!!!

My last point of business isn't really a point of business of all, but just a random fact that amuses me so much I just had to share. Lily is so big now that I can almost feel her every move. Recently as I was beached on the couch watching TV with Eddie, I felt a strange sensation that wasn't like a kick. It was more like...a roll. I looked down at my belly and was mesmorized by the sight of my belly ROLLING around. It was insane. Eddie's eyes almost popped out of his head. My eyes almost popped out of my head. And Lily continued to move as if she were trying to tunnel-drill her way through the dark abyss that is my womb. It's silly how amusing it is. And how amazing. I can not wait to meet my sweet baby girl. I keep going into her almost done room and opening the dresser to inspect the adorable baby snail onesie I can't wait to put her in. I can't believe that I'm 30 weeks along. It's almost time.

The baby shower is this Saturday and I look forward to posting pictures for all of you to 'aww' at. Mwahaha.

Okay, that's enough babbling for now. I do, however, want you to leave a comment telling me which of the candies from the link above you wouldn't mind chomping down on right now. I love hearing about other people's favorite candies.

A Somewhat Irrelevant and Short Post

2009-10-09T15:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, people. I just had to come on here and whip out my own little paragraph of two cents, which I do not expect you to either agree nor disagree with. It's just something I feel like I want to say. Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. Whether you agree with it or not, I really don't care. But for the love of everything holy....

If you didn't agree with it, STOP CRYING OVER FACEBOOK, TWITTER, ETC. If you are seriously that personally affected by someone who doesn't share your beliefs getting awarded something...Boo to you. Plus, it's annoying. I promise you, you will wake up tomorrow morning and your life will still be as shitty, or great. So...everyone breathe. He did not win a magical trident that can make people spontaneously combust.

If you did agree with it, STOP GETTING PERSONALLY UPSET THAT PEOPLE DIDN'T AGREE WITH IT. It's pointless and will only cause feelings of rage inside of you that literally are NOT necessary. That is all.

Please, people. You're causing sanity to be lost.

Random Ramblings of a Whale Such As Myself

2009-10-07T17:05:00.000-07:00

I've really noticed lately that this whole 'being pregnant' thing really does change how you think about and look at everything. And, somewhat unfortunately, the people around you don't get it.

Hey, I'm not expecting anything from anyone. It's just funny how some people will just assume what you must be thinking. How many people have been like, 'OMG I can NOT imagine being pregnant' and therefore treat you like you have just sentenced yourself to life in prison? 'You better get all the things done you wanted to do soon, you know, before you have a baby.' Because having a baby sucks all ambition and life from you? Funny, I feel like it's doing just the opposite. That could just be me, though. I don't mind the idea of always looking after a screaming, pooping baby. (I never thought I'd type that sentence. See how change happens?)

Another thing is when people think they're being all nice and supportive by saying stuff like, 'Just so ya know, I totally do not believe that having a baby means your life is over.' Wow, thanks. I totally do not believe that either! But you saying it really made me feel validated. I can sleep at night now.

Holy hormones Batman! This post is getting bitchy! Not my intention. Blame it on the fat rage.

I will be 28 weeks tomorrow. 28?! I remember when '11' seemed far along. But dudes...the baby kept growing and the weeks started going by a little bit faster. It's been two months since I first felt Lily kick, and now my belly is a 24 hour dance party and martial arts studio. When she's not kicking, she's happily stretching out in some obscure manner that pushes my belly out further and freaks me out.

After my amazing birthday dinner at Outback, Eddie and I were walking back to the car when I put my hand on my belly button and realized that there was a BODY PART right behind it. Like...something pointy. I immediately shrieked and poked it, trying to figure out what it was. Even though it was cold and slightly windy, Eddie and I stood in the middle of the parking lot like two complete dorks, taking turns poking the 'part' and then going 'AAAAH WTF?!' It was then we realized that after Lily is born, we are totally going to be 'those' parents who think every single thing their baby does is fucking hilarious, and of course, soooo smart. Aw look, she blinked! She waved! She made a face when Luna and Frodo sniffed her! Sigh. Our hearts are turning into mush before each other's eyes.

We are also suddenly very aware of everything around us that didn't seem too important before. For example, we have to actually DRIVE with the baby in the car!? What if someone rear ends us? Hello, anxiety. Also, I have become really concious of people smoking around me. A LOT of my friends are smokers, and it's not like me being pregnant is going to make them stop....they simply smoke like five feet away from me rather than two. Now me, I'm too shy to be like, 'Uh hello?? Pregnant here?' Because if I'm in their home, who am I to tell them they can't smoke inside? I was only not too shy once, when I had four cigarettes within two feet of my face and freaked out a little. Ah, the woes of being a whale. I mean, uh, pregnant.

And I'm not exaggerating about the whale thing. My brother laughed at me because I was laying on the floor playing a video game or something and was trying to find my cell phone. I had to reach all around my belly, because, you know... I CAN'T SEE OVER THE BEAST! I am like a cavewoman. I itch my belly all the time and bending over to pick stuff up is obscenely annoying. I've always been lazy, sure, so you can imagine how I am now. It's embarassing.

At least the holiday season is basically here!! I was going to be a Boomer from Left 4 Dead for Halloween but decided that doing so would probably put me in a super depressed state when my super hot soon to be sister in law showed up as something pleasing to the eye. I figured my fate was to be a pumpkin, and I won't lie, I was kind of bummed. Luckily, that very same super hot sister in law helped me figure out the perfect costume. I'm gonna be a skeleton. You know, black suit with bones on it? Except there will be a baby skeleton on my tummy. Don't lie, you know it's genius.

My latest revisions have been turned in, and The Tortures of Blight continues to change for the WAY better. What did Joanna even see in the first draft?! I don't know. I'm just counting my lucky stars that I have such a bad ass agent. Which reminds me, I think she mailed me something because she said to look out for the UPS guy. I can't freaking wait! Never before have I been hoping a guy in brown shorts would knock on the door and then bolt before I get a chance to even show I'm there. Usually, that sort of thing would creep me out. That's the magic of Joanna.

I read Living Dead Girl, Thirteen Reasons Why, and Looking for Alaska. Living Dead Girl was pretty good, as Kody promised it would be. Looking for Alaska, I really really enjoyed, until the end. I'm not sure why, I just felt mildly let down by how it was wrapped up, it came off as somewhat of a cop-out to me. The beginning and middle was good enough to cancel it out though. Thirteen Reasons Why....WOW!!! Holy amazingness! I absolutely loved the characters, especially Hannah. It was the first suicide book I've read that didn't have me feeling like the suicide was incredibly too rash. I. Loved. It. Read them all and decide for yourselves, though. It's not like I'm book blogger 5000.

See what happens when I decide to wing a blog post?! It comes out all random and sloppy and pretty freakin' boring. I don't blame you for skipping through if you did. Next post will be all organized. Hey, maybe I'll even throw in pictures!

Hurray!

2009-10-02T12:45:00.001-07:00

Hurray for my birthday today :) The birthday wishes have made me so happy and I can't wait for all these free meals my family has in store for me. I hope Lily is prepared to go into a food induced coma. Last night the greatest person ever, Calikas, gave me and Eddie a duel present- movie tickets, a huge chocolate bar for Eddie, and a value size box of Jujubes for me. She also got the most incredibly cute baby elephant, giraffe, and hippo/turtle onesies ever. I couldn't be happier....and I now have a candy hangover. Sorry, Lily. It's time for Olive Garden and steak houses!!!! YIPEEE!

WHO WANTS TO SEE ZOMBIELAND!?

Oh, uh, you wanted a real blog post? I'll get right on that... in two days.

I feel famous!! (And obscenely flattered)

2009-09-18T17:17:00.000-07:00

Wow, so my online BFF Kody actually made a freakin' blog post about me. And I was having a really bad day, too. Until I read this!

http://kodymekellkeplinger.blogspot.com/2009/09/top-five-reasons-i-3-amy-lukavics-and.html

BTW, If you're a writer and don't follow Kody's blog, you really need to do so. She is miraculous. Her amazing freaking book, The DUFF, comes out fall 2010 with Little Brown/Poppy. YAAAY!

It's Been Too Long--

2009-09-15T15:48:00.000-07:00

Yeah, it's been three weeks. But I'm not gonna be one of those people who, like, totally freaks out and gushes over how sorry they are that they havn't written a new blog post in forever. All I can do is lamely point the finger at my recently insanely busy life-- revisions and articles alone have the power to steal your soul.

Speaking of revisions, I am officially on the super creative fast track of (and I say this lovingly) doom. I had no idea how much work it would be, but what's refreshing is that I actually LOVE it. Not just like, "Hey, this is kind of fun. I guess it would be a fun career to be an author." Let me tell you a slightly embarrassing story.

All my working life (yeah, that comes to a grand total of, uh...6 years) I have been the exact same with every single solitary job. I get the job. I get uber excited. I go to work. After, say, a week, I'm over it. When I was a teenager, I was a horrible employee. I worked in an assisted living community as a waitress, but at the end of the day I was only petrified of getting old. Plus, my feet hurt like a bitch. Plus, the creepy old coworker that sexually harrassed me fifty times a day was getting on my nerves. So, I walked out. Got rehired four months later because they were that desperate, and ended up going in ONCE before calling thirty mins before my next shift and saying, 'Uh, I don't think I can work there anymore.' Nice. Then I worked at a sandwich shop with my best friend. She was a great employee. I found a week of being the 'lettuce girl' and putting only lettuce on the sandwiches and making the occasional smoothie pretty worthless to my time. (Can you recognize a horrible pattern here? Yeah. It's called laziness.) I walked out of the sandwich shop. I quit from the funnest job ever at a preschool because I had a fight with my best friend/coworker. (For the record, it was a pretty bad fight lol.) I walked out of my factory shop after my boss left another one of her oh-so-famous passive aggressive notes from hell.

When I got fired from my first "big girl" job, I had a total freak out and thought I was done with being a productive human being. My high school boyfriend proved his importance in my life by totally convincing me not to go to college. That sounds horrible, but to this day I'm really, REALLY happy I never went. It's just not for some people, me included. I have never been able to completely throw myself into something that I wasn't really into, or felt like it was important. And I didn't have a super specific career in mind that I really wanted to do that required a degree, otherwise I would have gone obviously. Also, I've witnessed first hand people in my life going to college just because it was 'the next step', and they ended up racking up tons of college bills to pay off before dropping out all together. I knew that'd be me.

So in my rage of being useless to the world, I went to the library and rented out a huge stack of books. One of them was Paint It Black by Janet Fitch. It's about a girl who's boyfriend commits suicide, and it's really freaking good. Deep inside, I wanted it to end with some sort of twist though, not to be suicide. It was. I still loved it. But suddenly in my head I saw this book that I desperately wanted to read, except for the fact that I had just made it up. I started outlining for Tortures the next day. I sat at my kitchen table from the time my husband left for work at 8 am to the time he walked in the door at 6. I couldn't BELIEVE that
A) I had actually worked hard on something.
B) Was able to do it for more than a few hours without being like, 'eff this I want to go watch TV and eat Cookie Crisp.

That's when I knew that being an author wasn't a fantasy I had of doing no work and only having fun book signings and movie deals and fan mail. I was filled with the most extreme sort of determination you could imagine. I wanted to be an author. I swore to myself that I wouldn't settle for anything less, no matter how long it took me. If I died trying, at least I'd know that I tried. Why the hell wouldn't I? It's all I could think about.

When it came time to write the first scene, I wrote out probably four page long rambles that all got deleted as soon as I reread them. Crap, I thought. Maybe I can't do this. I took a deep breath and put The Beatles on my iPod and...boom. I wrote, no, I pounded out the first scene like it was nobody's business. A fat cop with stale coffee breath, I wrote. It was when I got to my line, 'It was time for the pigs to be slaughtered. Welcome to mother fucking wonderland' and knew that this was real, that I'd finish this book and that it'd be good enough to stand a chance to sell. I didn't care if it sold for 5 dollars. I'd be an official author.

You know the rest. I wrote it, researched what to do next for 7 months, and found my angel of an agent. I say angel in a non biblical sense. What I mean is that she is a freakin' savior to The Tortures of Blight. She loves the characters, even when I sort of start to hate them. She points out things that I would have never noticed and suggests things that makes the manuscript a million times better. Right now I think I'm in the third round of revisions. It's so, so challenging, and not because it's hard, but because it's all I can think about and in between that and writing freelance articles to pull in an income, I have little to no time to go out. I can do dinners, few hour hang outs. Unfortunately one of the two people I hang with regularly is only available to hang out at her house for eight hours at a time, due to chronic mono. Eight house because I have to get a ride there and back, one work shift for Eddie. Therefore.... I can't go over there. I simply don't have the time, and that makes me look like a snobby bitch. But there is no way I'm slowing down here. I've got a Lily coming and would love to have something on submission by the time she shows her pretty lil face. I know my friend will understand.

I'm not really sure where I was going with this post. I guess it's that I really can NOT believe that I finally found something that I love so much that I could do it forever. (Besides Eddie. And OMG...I did not mean that in the dirty sense. You guys are freak-a-leaks.) I'm actually going through the process now, I'm working hard to get my book noticed. It's terrifying. I'm nervous, but the super good kind of nervous. I can't wait to see what happens next. In one year I got preggo and an agent. What the hell will next year be like?? My hands shake if I think about it too hard.

In other news....Left 4 Dead is one of the single funnest games, EVER. Yeah, I'm that random. You know you love it.

Things I Will Never Buy For My Baby

2009-08-22T16:24:00.001-07:00

Since we've found out that our little lovebug is actually a Lily, I have been able to look for fun, girly things online as well as the stores. I got the inspiration for this post when I was shopping with my mother at Target and saw a pair of baby Uggs. There are some things in this world that are simply ridiculous, and I'm going to share with you a few of those things that are baby related. Here is a list of things I will NEVER buy my baby. And I mean NEVER EVER!!!

1) Baby Uggs and other obscene designer-type shit that is literally for the vanity of the mother ONLY. Seen below are Louis Vuitton bibs and freaking Gucci shoes. If you are honestly telling me that a bib a hundred times more expensive than a normal one just because of the freaking designer name on it is more useful, I invite you to please prove me wrong. And as for the Gucci shoes....WTF!? Take the money you are spending on the single pair of shoes and use it to buy like fifty pairs of regular baby shoes (which, by the way, I'm guessing will stay 'good' just as long as the Gucci ones because the baby DOESN'T FREAKING WALK!!) I might as well just use tape to wrap Lily's feet in hundred dollar bills, at least it would save the shipping cost for something as stupid as these items.

2) Creepy items that may give my poor baby nightmares or complexes- In a recent Googling endeavor I came across a few items that are not only impractical and creepy, but really boggled my mind as to how they are actually real items, really on sale. First is the 'Zaky' pillow, aka pillows shaped like hands to 'trick' your infant into thinking that it's you holding her while she sleeps. First of all, I'm pretty sure that Lily would be able to tell the difference between my small hands made of FLESH compared to two huge, muppet-like claws of creepiness. And if you look at the picture, it's a joke to even imagine that the baby knows the pillow is shaped like hands in the first place. Weirdos.

The other item pictured below is ever-so-delicately called The Baby Keeper. The claimed convenience of this item is that if you are in a public restroom with your baby, you can HANG him or her on the bathroom stall in front of you so you can 'go' without worry. I just want to point out a few things wrong with this picture. First of all, how many public bathrooms are roomy enough to where a contraption of this size will actually fit into the teeny stall with you without forcing you to bury your face in your baby's torso while you pee? Also, I just want to know how many of you would feel comfortable hanging your baby's full weight on a tiny freaking hook that was put there to hold purses, not freaking ten to fifteen pound babies, or even scarier, toddlers!? (Assuming you have found a nice, roomy stall.) I have a vision of watching my baby free fall as I pee helplessly, or watching in horror as the door swings open because the crappy little circle lock couldn't support the extra weight on the door. Hell, if I was using this at my local movie theatre the door would probably just fall off altogether. Screw the Baby Keeper. And people actually pay money for this!?

3) Political/Religiously Suggestive Onesies or Shirts- I'm sorry, I know we've all got opinions on things that are 'right' and 'wrong', but there is no way in hell I'm going to even entertain the idea of plastering my own personal opinions, which are literally as relevant as ANYONE elses, all over my poor Lily's belly. Who in the world thinks that their opinions are that important? Do people really think that they are being amazing parents by using their kids as human billboards? And furthermore, do they actually think that anybody who reads these ridiculous things are going to take a moment from their life to stop and think, "Wow. That onesie really punched me in the face with truth today. I now love/hate Obama, am for/against gun rights, am going to buy/avoid Green products, am going to praise/hate Jesus..." Give me a break people. If you want to save the world, there are other ways. And as The Beatles oh-so-correctly note, there's no one you can save that can't be saved. (AKA Everyone is going to think what they want, no matter how 'totally true' your opinions are.) That is why I'm going to leave my personal views off my baby. That, and I respect the fact that Lily has no fucking clue what is on her onesie anyway. It's like, total fraud!

4) Extreme headbands and dresses. This one may not seem as hardcore as the others, but hell, I have seen some headbands and dresses that would make your brain melt, not to mention make Lily a living Christmas tree. Don't get me wrong, headbands are adorable. And I cannot wait to buy cute little dresses. But some of these things are insane. Dresses with five layers of ruffle as to make my baby appear as a giant, pink, glittering cabbage? No thanks. And headbands that weigh more than my baby's head? Hell no. Hellllllll no.

5) Fur covered diaper changing pads and bags. Need I say more? I sure hope not.

Odd Behaviors of a "New Writer"...and IT'S A GIRL!

2009-08-12T13:18:00.000-07:00

I wanted today's blog to be more geared towards writing, although I will take this itty bitty space to share the AMAZING news that our little lovebug is a GIRL! A Lily, to be exact. A Lily Mila Lukavics. Awwwwww! Sir Edmund the Hotness was right...again. WOO! Okay, okay. Onward. *Can't stop squealing*

Since I finished The Tortures of Blight in September 2008, I have noticed a few, erm... odd habits that are surfacing as a result. I wanted to share some of them with you so that you could laugh with me. Or at me. Most likely, the latter. All I know is that it's laughable, this neurotic-crazy-how-far-will-it-go attitude of mine.

And just for the record, this is titled Odd Behaviors of a New Writer because although I have enjoyed writing for quite a long time, I really would be lying if I said that I've actually been a writer before November of 2007. That was when I got fired from a totally mediocre job that I thought was my only chance at a real future and realized that I had come horrifyingly close to settling. "F**k this nine to five bullhonkey," I thought to myself. "I have always wanted to write a book, so I'm gonna. And no one can stop me!" *Insert evil yet hippie laughter here.* Thus, the epic journey begins- and with it came epic Odd Behaviors. I'm not sure if I blame myself, my writing, or my lovely posse from Absolute Write for these behaviors. Either way...I'm definitely way more insane than I was before.

Exhibit A- I am suddenly extremely concerned with spell-checking everything that I produce, including grocery lists, text messages, and Facebook comments. This might not sound like such a big deal, but let me tell you, it has gotten to be quite annoying. For some reason, I feel like since I wrote a book and managed to score a far-superior-than-average Super Agent, every word that comes from my brain must be spelled perfectly. If they are not, I am obviously a fake. A phony. A wanna-be writer that must have managed to get this far by some freak accident, a clash of the Gods. In short, it's sort of like a conspiracy theory type paranoia. And it follows me everywhere. I'm not exactly sure why I think some random person is stalking my every internet move, specifically searching for a horrible misspelling. Gray? Grey? It's a lose-lose situation. Or a win-win one, I guess. If you're all sunny inside.

Exhibit B- This is a short one, but definitely deserves an honorable mention. Once you get an agent, you become way more paranoid about everything you've ever written on the interwebz and also...spend about thirty minutes with your good friend Kody (who has the same agent as you and is acting equally as neurotic) whether or not it's appropriate to send your agent a friend request on Facebook. Of course, our agent has never given us any reason to think that she's anything but sweet and nice as hell but of course, being neurotic kind of takes away simple logic. We finally got the balls to do it, and of COURSE Joanna didn't ignore the request and tell us that we were no longer represented. It's just funny to both me and Kody that it was a legit fear we had.

Exhibit C- I am suddenly finding myself wanting to talk about my book and the publishing process less and less to those who have no idea how the actual process works. Okay, this might sound snarky. Snobby, even. But I'm just trying to be honest here. I have a newfound hatred for attempting to discuss the publishing process with anyone that's not from AW or my own Sir Edmund the Hotness, since he has been learning with me the whole way. Look, guys- When I first finished my book, of course I had no idea about what came next. No one would have expected me to. And I don't expect the curious people in my life to understand either, it's just that it gets quite annoying at times when they simply think that they know. For example, any writer out there knows about the absolutely fucking dreadful process known as Query Hell.

Trying to put together a three paragraph (if not shorter) letter that shows off your writing skills and book plot as well as stand out from the other 300 queries an agent receives weekly is hard enough. And I'm here to tell you that to the average non-writing civilian, the process doesn't seem like a big deal. At all. I scored an agent after only seven months of querying, and for that I consider myself FREAKING lucky. However, after the four weeks or so, everyone in my life seemed to just assume that since I couldn't find an agent after a month, there was no hope in trying anymore and I was just lying to myself and everyone when I said that I was still searching-obviously, I was living in a world of delusions. This proved to be quite annoying, discouraging, yada yada yada.

When that golden day finally came and I could officially say that I was Agented, my jumping off the wall like a three year old who ate a Costco pack of Pixie Sticks excitement was only matched until whoever I was telling asked what happened next. And folks, everyone asked. My family, my friends, everyone. "So you get paid now?" Uhm...No guys. I do revisions then move forward to submitting to publishers. "Oh. So you didn't really sell it yet then?" No, but this is a VITAL FUCKING STEP PEOPLE!! I GOT AN AGENT! "Well, what does this...agent...actually do? You have to pay her for help with revisions, don't you?" (By this time, I am desperately looking for an out to the conversation.) "Nope, I don't have to pay her. That's a sure sign of a scam." "Well...how do you know it isn't a scam? I hear there are lots of writing scams out there." Oh, is that what you heard? I want to scream. I want to tear my hair out. At this point, I'm practically foaming at the mouth. I want to yell, "BECAUSE I HAVE SPENT THE LAST SEVEN MONTHS ON THE COMPUTER LEARNING ABOUT HOW TO NOT GET SCAMMED AND I'M NOT EXACTLY SURE WHY YOU THINK I QUERIED TO A RANDOM EMAIL ADDRESS WITHOUT RESEARCHING THE FREAKING AGENT FIRST! ALL AGENTS ARE NOT LOOKING FOR THE SAME THING! THERE IS EFFORT THAT NEEDS TO BE PUT FORWARD HERE!!" But of course, I only smile and say as sweet as I can manage, "Google Joanna Stampfel-Volpe." And with that, they are pwned. Srsly pwned.

And, for the record, asking someone how much they are going to make is not only insulting, but infuriating, and NONE OF YOUR FREAKIN' BUSINESS! I would do this shit for free, don't you understand?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!

*Deep breath*

Exhibit D- I have found myself organizing anything and everything out on paper. It seems to be the only way I can function and survive in life. Budgets, chore lists (that are carefully spell-checked, of course,) writing schedules, blog schedules, playlist of songs that the baby just HAS to hear before it leaves the womb via giant headphones, you name it. I write it all down on paper like an excited little kid. And for some reason, the only things in life that are executed when they need to be are the things that I write out. I am doomed to a life of millions and millions of spiral notebooks full of stuff that means nothing to anyone but me. I'm a nerd. I'm neurotic. I'm... a writer? (I still feel all weird saying that. I'm not sure why.)

So there you go. Three of the many new emotions and habits and behaviors that have shown themselves only after I have officially thought of myself as a 'writer.' Of course, I could have filled you in on the stuff that was a little less whiny....but what fun is there in that?

Pregnancy Dreams aka Destruction of Sleep!

2009-08-02T11:49:00.001-07:00

Okay, I have always been the kind of person who remembers all her dreams- Usually vividly. I loved that quality in myself and valued being a super active dreamer. Now, I had heard before I even got pregnant that along with the ever-puking, ever-belly-expanding package comes an interesting symptom- 'strange' dreams. I wasn't too nervous. I love strange dreams, so I was totally all like, 'BRING IT ON, BISHES!'

That was before I started having them. I can say with all honesty that these dreams are so freaky, so weird, so....insane, that even though I might have technically slept all through the night, I wake up feeling a little less then refreshed. It's a mindf*ck, with a few extra cherries on top. So in order to calm my 'WTF' nerves, I will post some of the dreams for you to see. *Cackles* Taales....from the Daaarkside......

Dream: I am at some sort of strange football game/graduation/something that requires many people to be at a stadium type setting that has large metal bleachers. I have had my baby, and it is a girl. She is wrapped 'burrito style' in her blanket, and I can't get a good look at her face. My brother Jason is with me, and he is the one holding her. He passes her back and forth with my Nonny, and I'm okay with it except for the fact that I don't know what she looks like. I am suddenly away from everyone and I see that my brother has left my baby laying down on the very top bleacher, wriggling and about to fall the forty feet to her death any minute. There is no way I can get there in time. Wake up.

(Yeah, I know. This dream might not sound so weird. It might sound natural, even. But what you don't know, my friends, is that I started you out easy. They get worse. Read on.)

Dream: I have had my baby, in fact I have had two babies somehow- a boy who is about four and a girl who is still a baby. I havn't met them before. We are trying to ride a Disneyland monorail type thing, and the boy is slightly misbehaving. I try to talk to him about it, but he doesn't listen to anything I say and ignores my presence. The baby girl is giggling and playing with me. But suddenly, I think to myself, These arn't my children, I didn't raise them, someone else did. They arn't mine...at the exact second this thought comes into my head, the baby girl's smile fades, very slowly, and she stares at me with cold, creepy as f*ck eyes. The boy looks at me with a look of horrifying triumph. He is obviously Damien from The Omen. I am f*cked. Wake up.

(Slowly getting creepier, yes, yes....)

Dream: I awake at the hospital, and my baby has been born. "You're awake," the nurse says in a kind of creepy, too-nice voice. She is holding a bundle. "Is that my baby?" I ask excitedly, trying to sit up even though I can't. "It's a girl, right?" I ask. (In all of my pregnancy dreams except for this one, the baby has been a girl.) The nurse looks at me really odd and goes, "No. It's a boy." And for some reason I feel like I'm in an alternate reality. She hands me the baby. I look over at Eddie and say, "I don't remember giving birth. Did I do okay? Was I strong?" Eddie just looks at me and says, "No. You didn't get the epidural, and you were really angry and yelling and cussing at the doctors and they all hate you now. It was...pretty bad." Eddie turns and walks out of the room. We are suddenly at home, and I am in bed resting. I can hear the baby crying, frantically like there is something wrong. "WHERE IS THE BABY?!" I yell. Eddie looks at me like I'm crazy and says, "I put it in bed." I rush to the crib, but there is only a lump covered in covers. It's going to suffocate! I think as I tear away a blanket, some pillows, another blanket. Eddie has put the baby UNDER the fitted sheet. I tear away the fitted sheet, sure that the baby is dead- all is quiet now. But when I rip away the sheet, there is only a doll there. Wake up.

(And...the finale...the creepy of all creepies....)

Dream: I am in a very dark castle type place, and seem to be the only resident. I am in a dark bedroom on the third floor, and trying to fall asleep in a big bed that is near the window. My baby girl is with me, and I'm trying to coo her to sleep. Suddenly, I realize that my baby looks strange- she has black, rough, spikey hair that is sharp on my fingers and large, BLACK eyes. Her teeth are razor sharp and also black. She tries to kill me with incredible strength. I am holding her off, trying so hard to calm her down, and she suddenly starts screaming at me, in a very shrill voice, some incredibly malicious and flat out violent things. I am terrifyed, and at last attempt I try to throw her out the window. She bounces off the screen and scuttles, yes scuttles, under the bed, quick as lightning. I fall off the bed and know that she's about to bite my throat out. Wake up.

And, you see, these are only a few from the colorful bunch. And they happen every single night. In every baby dream I've had, the baby is a girl. The ONE time it wasn't a girl, I felt like I was in an alternate universe. Does this mean it's a girl? Or does it mean that I'm just listening to everyone who is telling me it's a girl? After all, we picked our girl name first, which is why I think Eddie 'knows' it's a girl. I have no clue. I only have to wonder for five more days.

Until then, I would adore having one night where I don't wake up in a state of shock, dismay, or straight out confusion. I thought I was having a good one last night. My baby girl was giggling and happy. Then I dropped her.

I'm convinced now, it's true: We're all a little mad sometimes. It's just easier to see when you are pregnant.

Decorating Fool

2009-07-29T11:22:00.000-07:00

I have returned from the dark black abyss of busy-ness! I have been trying to complete this round of revisions for The Tortures of Blight for the past two weeks and only just finished and sent it to Miss Super Agent yesterday- RELIEF!!! I'm hoping that there will only be one more round of revisions before that lovely polish edit, and I'm super freaking excited for what's to come! So far, the journey has been quite lovely. More to come on this process next week, my friends. Today's blog is baby-centric. Woo! Throw confetti!

We get to find out the gender of this here little lovebug a week from tomorrow- August 6th at 8:45 am. I intentionally had them schedule it that early in the morning because let's be honest here...I WANT TO KNOW ASAP!!! I have been fortunate enough to receive TONS of amazing freakin' furniture for the baby room from my mother-in-law, and I have been foaming at the mouth planning the two baby rooms. Boy or girl? Girl or boy? Lily or Jude? I MUST KNOW NOW!! And since I'm going crazy, I'm taking you along and forcing you to look at these picture plans for each baby room. Wooooooo!!

If it's a Lily Mila in there, the room color scheme will be purple and green (NOT LAVENDAR AND MINT) and will have the following wall decals:

This one, hanging over the crib (in black, not white)

This one, down the wall from the other (black cages with purple birdies)

And these letters, however I will definitely not be using the random first letter that's encircled there...I don't like it. I'll just use the 'Lily Mila':

The rug:

The lamp for midnight feedings and such:

Now, if it's a boy in there, little Jude Michael's room will be done in blue and green (again, not baby blue and pastel mint crappiness) and the 'theme' will be baby elephants and giraffes. Of course, I have not yet found exactly what things I'd be using, therefore it is quite obvious that for decorating's sake, this little baby should be a girl. Look at all the intricate planning up there!! Sir Edmund the Hotness is absolutely convinced it's a girl anyway, so hopefully he is right because I also inherited an amazing (but very girly) antique hatch for the room.

When will the torture end?!?!?! Oh yeah. August 6th.