Mad with joy

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"People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us." --Iris Murdoch, author (1919-1999)





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I often wonder how people can do this. . .

















. . .to this planet of wonder and beauty. We live on a miracle in the universe. If I imagine a world without flowers, I feel empty. It amazes me that something whose purpose is to propagate and, in doing so feed other lifeforms, can also be so dazzling. How did we get so lucky?

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Here. I'll spread a little mad joy and wonder. Just because.


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I've got an idea. *light bulbs bursting*





I think I'll start a small journal that's just for noticing a wonder in my personal universe. It could be as simple as observing the veins in a leaf or watching the moon rise.



It's not that I don't see these things regularly. That's why I write haiku. Still, I'd like to make a point of seeking out what makes this a world worth praise and passion.










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I hope this doesn't sound googly-eyed or preachy. I simply believe we can make
our world better by seeing it for what it already is and glorying in that.



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That brings me to the lovely Julie Dao who bestowed upon me the Happy Blogger Award. This award is about blogs that make you feel good when you visit. I feel that way about Julie's site, which is filled with fantasy and gorgeous music. I always want to pull up a chair and stay awhile. I also second the other bloggers she named, many of whom are my favorite hangouts.

Since I should add more (and this is impossible always), here are few bloggers who make me smile on a regular basis.

Stephanie Thornton


VR Barkowski


Karen Amanda Hooper



Carolina Valdez Miller


Sarah Wylie




Tracy/Phoenix

Just chillin' and a great panel discussion Monday

In the grab bag of life, I got some wonder and some pretty awful the last few days. Someone did a hit-and-run on my parked car doing $1,000 in damage.

But I got a rental and spent one afternoon at the gorgeous cliffs of Dana Point. More photos below.

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And I went to a fabulous party last night hosted by my crit partner, Rilla and her husband Satish. Besides great food and conversation, they had everyone bring a photo and story of travel adventure. It's amazing how wildly different the stories turned out to be--a fictional dig to China, a proposal in Paris, a gasping crawl up Mt. Kilimanjaro.

As for me, I flubbed the telling of finding a stone circle on a foggy moor in Devon. I've told it lots of times, but I think I babbled incoherently this time. Ah well, I'll blame my distraction on my poor injured Miata.

Anyway, the evening itself was picture perfect.

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The sky tonight is pink-and-blue stripes. I think Dr. Seuss dreamed it up. I feel like I should hold someone's hand and skip.

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WriteOnCon alert!
Tomorrow, Monday, Jan. 24 at 5 p.m. Eastern there will be a live panel discussion with Pippin Properties, Inc. agents. Holly McGhee, was formerly an executive editor at HarperCollins and Joan Slattery was an editor at Alfred A. Knopf.

If you've never been to a WriteOnCon chat, it's easy-peasy. Just sign in and type a question. The moderators pass on the questions.

I, sadly, will miss this one, because Monday afternoon I'm at my very own live critique group, which is actually cause for happiness. We rock, just sayin.'

The good news is anyone can visit the WriteOnCon site later and read the transcript. I know I will.

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More Dana Point, because it's awesome. The trail around the tide pool hugs this cliff, but it's been mangled by flooding and landslides since heavy rain in December.

Those massive boulders tumbled down from above. And, there are houses hanging on the edge of those cliffs!

The trek over all the rocky shore is actually invigorating. There's always some wobble and give when you step and the crunching of stone on stone.

The tide pools were really fun to explore this time. And I saw dolphins enjoying the waves with two surfers. Everybody was chill.

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A nice fan of mussels.

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And stunning anemones, sea grass, hermit crabs and more.

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Eye-opening moments, heroes and vanquishing fear

How can I portray a dream?

I've kept dream journals, awakening in dead of night to jot down words that can hardly contain the images. I've tried painting them. But the essence usually slips back to that other world.

This photo is nothing like a recent dream I had, but it does convey the surreal-ness and ethereal-ness of it. I tried to put it into haiku. It didn't fit, but here's the attempt.

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peering from cavern--

sky-blue sea hits white granite,

dashing all darkness

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I'm not going to bore you with the dream details, but I will say what was most wonderful was the sense of leaving behind darkness, fear, despair, in order to brave a new world, full of possibility. That's how it felt when I woke up and what picturing the expanse of blue water and snowy-white cliffs still conveys.

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I hit a snag--not a wall, just a bump--in the fairy tale I'm currently writing. I knew where the next chapter was going but felt like it needed something. In other words, I wasn't enthused, and figured it lacked tension.

I just didn't know what to do.

So I picked up Donald Maass' Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook, which I'd left languishing on a bookshelf. Maybe I'd find a way over the snag. Well, you know what? This workbook really works.

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The first exercise asked me to name personal heroes. Abraham Lincoln popped to mind first. I've always admired him. I also thought of Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King, Jr.

But what did these bigger-than-life public figures have to do with my teen protagonist in a fairy tale? As I continued the exercise, I wrote down what qualities made them heroes: courage, fortitude, conviction, compassion, eloquence.

And I knew that's exactly what I want my heroine to embody as she grows into her place in the world.

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But it was another exercise that freshened my journey into the chapter that had stalled me.

The prompt was to write something your MC would never say, never do.

I don't want to reveal my plot, but I struggled with this until I realized that I already had the perfect answer. All I had to do was go back and expand an issue with another character that was in the story. Once I did that, I'd added new tension, new obstacles for my protagonist.

I'm not only writing up a storm, I'm thrilled with the layer this has added to the entire story. Thank you, Mr. Maass!

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Gotta do a huge shout out.

Beth Revis' ACROSS THE UNIVERSE has hit the NY Times bestseller list at #7! Yay, Beth!

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A day in the life

Yesterday, I climbed the little mountain in my town, as I do, and found rejuvenation waiting--the sky scrubbed by wild winds the day before, the earth sprouting where last month's deluge had soaked in, unseen birds singing. So words popped in my head to form haiku.

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a sudden trilling,

wild burst of exuberance

on a still morning

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ancient granite

yields a foothold to fragile

wild grasses

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Today, I have a crit group meeting all afternoon. Our stories will take me to Wales and India and the rural South. I will climb mountains with them and find hope along the journey, because that's what writing and writers bring to my life--a sense of new beginnings and wonder, words developed and shaped to form worlds where we make sense of ours.

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And, today, I remember a man of tremendous courage and foresight, who brought hope and rejuvenation to the world. May we all learn not to judge by the color of skin or country of origin or religious belief or physical impairment or anything except the content of character, the goodness of spirit. And may we all, someday, be free at last.

In memory of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Google-fu with Beth Revis on release of Across the Universe

I asked Beth Revis just three questions for the following Q&A. This week is the release of her debut YA novel, ACROSS THE UNIVERSE, and I knew she'd be crazy busy. Yay, Beth!

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Beth is one of the first bloggers I met online when I started blogging less than two years ago. She is funny, smart, interesting, caring and honest, which has made me love her blog and now her book.

If you don't know her publishing story it's an incredible one. In the time I've known her she's gone from aspiring to agented to major book deal to published with starred reviews. She tells this journey best in her own words, which she does on her blog, including a five-part series of posts in June 2010.

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My three questions for Beth:

Q: You wrote a wonderful post once about how you realized a writer doesn't need to be a scientist to write good sci-fi/dystopian stories. Please tell us what allowed you to strap on your personal jetpack and step into far reaches of space.

A: Honestly, I think it was just doing it. It's like the old writer's mantra: butt in chair. When I started thinking about my story, I realized I needed a sci fi setting--so I started writing a sci fi setting. When I came to something that I didn't know or understand, I'd trot off to the internet. A little Google-fu, a little emailing to people who really WERE scientists, and I'd get enough info keep writing.

If I had thought about it, I would have talked myself out of writing sci fi. I'm so unqualified. But I didn't think about it, I thought about the story, and that led to the words, and that led to a novel, and the rest is history.
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Q: What was the first idea for Across the Universe? How did that concept take off for you?

A: Oh, I can't be too specific here! The first idea was the end. I thought of a neat twist, and I built the story around it.

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(Drat! *pouts* Guess we have to wait for books two and three to find out.)

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Q: If you have one piece of advice for other writers from what you learned this year, what would it be?

A: Write the next book. I had so many trunk novels, so many rejections. But I kept writing. And you know what? I always thought the book I was working on would be "the one." I'd write my heart out, then edit, and rewrite, and revise, and submit....and nothing. But doing that for all those failed novels helped me to write one that didn't fail--and kept me writing, which was the most important thing.
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Thanks, Beth. As always, I appreciate your words.

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So Beth has this Launch Contest, which nudged me take this photo of me with the reverse side of the book jacket for ACROSS THE UNIVERSE.

Other people are going to be a lot more clever, I think, but I did hang up my swirly cosmos scarf-like cape thingie.

And that's the super-cool diagram of the spaceship, Godspeed.

Everybody's got until Jan. 25 to buy the book, take a photo with it and try to win some fabulous prizes.

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In case you've missed the blurb on ACROSS THE UNIVERSE, here 'tis:

A love out of time. A spaceship built of secrets and murder.

Seventeen-year-old Amy joins her parents as frozen cargo aboard the vast spaceship Godspeed and expects to awake on a new planet, three hundred years in the future. Never could she have known that her frozen slumber would come to an end fifty years too soon and that she would be thrust into a brave new world of a spaceship that lives by its own rules.

Amy quickly realizes that her awakening was no mere computer malfunction. Someone—one of the few thousand inhabitants of the spaceship—tried to kill her. And if Amy doesn’t do something soon, her parents will be next.

Now, Amy must race to unlock Godspeed’s hidden secrets. But out of her list of murder suspects, there’s only one who matters: Elder, the future leader of the ship and the love she could never have seen coming.

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Wishing you a long, star-filled journey, Beth!

Mushing with author Terry Lynn Johnson

Um, what's a snow hook? I know nada about mushing, but have just learned that a snow hook is like a parking brake. And in dangerous moments a dogsled racer might toss the metal clawed hook into the snow to quickly stop a team.

I found out about snow hooks and other fascinating things in the debut novel by Terry Lynn Johnson, DOGSLED DREAMS. The book will hopefully soon find its way into the hands of middle grade readers and onto shelves of school libraries. Terry also has a terrific teacher's guide with educational and fun activities available on her website.
You want a thrilling taste of this story? Read the first chapter.
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Anyone who loves dogs will be drawn to this tale of a twelve-year-old girl's yearning to race sled dogs. She has to overcome her own self-doubt as well as blizzards and wild animals. The story is packed with realistic details, which is not surprising when you find out that the author raced her own team of eighteen Alaskan Huskies. Besides dogsledding, Terry steps out in snowshoes, paddles kayaks and canoes and sails. She lives on the edge of wilderness in Whitefish Falls, Ontario, Canada.
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I asked Terry, who writes for outdoor magazines, a few questions about how DOGSLED DREAMS came to be.





Q: When did you decide you wanted to write a book for kids and why?
A: I took a correspondence writing course three years ago with a mind that I wanted to write my memoirs. My writing tutor suggested I try writing fiction for kids after she read some of my magazine articles. I'm so glad, because I don't know if I would have tried it.
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Q: Why do you believe sled dogs will interest kids who may live where it never snows or where neighborhood dogs may be viewed as threats, not friends? What do you hope kids may learn about a relationship with a sled team?
A: I believe kids are interested in learning new ways of seeing things. That's the best part of writing for kids. And if you put them in the scene so they can hear the dogs, smell the dogs, feel the dogs, then hopefully they will care about the dogs. Dogsledding is about more than going fast down a trail. I hope readers learn that the trust mushers and their dogs must have in each other is a magical thing - that's what makes this sport so special. The book is full of technical information too, including a diagram at the back with dog positions, parts of the sled, etc along with a list of resources.
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Q: How would you sum up the changes the dogs bring to your main character?
A:Perhaps that Rebecca is more confident in her own abilities, that she is a good musher who cares for her dogs. And maybe she's learning to live more in the moment like the dogs do.
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Q: If there was one thing you'd like people to take away from reading your book, what would that be?
A: That most mushers love their dogs beyond words or explanation. Also, if you work hard, you can achieve your own dreams.
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Q: What are your dreams for this book? Where do you hope it will go and into whose hands?
A: I'm currently gearing up for a junior musher video contest on my site, so I'm dreaming that there will be lots of cool entries to watch of great kids with their dogs! I am also hoping that it is read by all those that approached me when I raced my own team and asked about the lifestyle.
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Q: Any booksignings or events coming up?
A: My local bookstore Chapters in Sudbury will be hosting an event next month. As well, I'll be in Cannington Feb.26 at the dogsled races there signing books and doing a reading at the library. I'll post more specifics and other dates on my website.

Random haiku

silent pair of crows--

scraps of black velvet soaring

on an updraft.

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That's it. A random haiku written in my head while walking. Now back into the land of my fairytale to see where the updrafts take me.

Turning mountains into a mission statement of sorts

Two of my favorite walking trails were closed after the week of non-stop rain in California before Christmas. The lake route reopened as soon as flood waters ran downstream, but the small mountain trail is still barricaded.

Um. Yeah. So I went around the caution tape like some other intrepid hikers and found out why.

Most of the trail is clear. But there are areas where erosion underneath the path may cause collapse and then there is this. Whew, that's a big boulder.

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No wonder it's still closed.

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But I'm glad I ventured up, and you know I'll go again. . .

Because . . .

This is what I get for a treat when I do. . .

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Climbing mountains rewards me with gorgeous vistas, a sense of accomplishment, a stronger body and a mind that becomes free of trivia.

I've done a lot of writing in my head while walking. But I haven't thought of it as a mission. Until now.

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I'm not a Mission Statement kind of person. Too many years of corporate-speak, I guess. But when Susan Kaye Quinn posted her Mission Statement as a writer recently she got my attention. It makes sense to develop self-awareness, to know what we want from all this effort we expend writing. What purpose does it serve in our lives?

Susan is an engineer, and I always struggled with higher math, physics, that sort of thing. My talents, I think, are more in the art realm. So instead of calling what I've written a Mission Statement, I'll refer to it as my life-goal as a writer. Here's what works for me, but, please, also read Susan's, which was my model.

To use my life experiences and background in creative non-fiction, poetry and fiction to write stories that reach beyond the day-to-day into the land of possibilities. To interact with other writers and editors to constantly improve my craft. To be supportive and helpful to others. To reach as many readers and impact as many lives as possible without allowing numbers of any kind to define me or my work. To always leave my readers with hope.

Yay, it's time for No Kiss Blogfest

No Kiss Blogfest today! That means dozens of writers are putting up scenes where lips come close but are denied connection. Mean writers.

The fest is hosted by Frankie Diane Mallis, and the scenes are bound to range from sizzlin' to hilarious.

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The art I chose for my fractured fairytale with modern sensibilities is John Waterhouse's La Belle Dame Sans Merci.

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The scene I'm sharing takes place after a princess is forced to leave her father's castle to go on a quest. She is supposed to fulfill her destiny alone and has already had to fight an ogre. This scene occurs when she searches for someone who's following her.

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Sword in hand, Princess Charming stepped soundlessly to an opening in the brush. A person, wrapped in a cloak, slept beside a dead fire. A horse dozed nearby.

She crept forward until she could put the tip of her sword against the person’s neck. The cloak covered most of his face, but he was surely male. “Who are you, and why do you follow me?” she demanded, her voice quavering only on the last word.

The man jerked and gasped. Charming stumbled back, tripping on a root. For a moment, she felt suspended in air and then she landed with a thud on her rump, but she managed to keep the sword pointed in the man’s direction.

She scrambled to her feet, feeling an unwanted blush flare on her cheeks, and stared wide-eyed at the young man peering out of the cloak. “Conner? What are you doing here?”

“Gah. You scared me, sneaking up like that, Charms. Although your pratfall took the edge off.” He smiled and sat up, rubbing his eyes and then running fingers through his tangled, blond hair.

“I scared you. Haven’t you been following me--like a sneak thief?” She wanted to erase the fact she’d fallen. But she needed to brush off the dirt, so she ran her free hand across her backside as stealthily as she could.

“A sneak thief! I’m trying to protect you.” Conner flung aside the cloak and stood, towering a foot taller than she.

They glared at one another for an instant until both became aware that Conner was in his long, wool underwear. “Drat. Beg your pardon,” he murmured.

Charming averted her eyes, staring at the dark loam and fallen leaves around her feet. She could hear Conner struggling into his leather breeches and doublet. But even when he was dressed, with boots on and hair tied back, she was too embarrassed to hold his gaze.

She attempted bravado. “You know you must go home, Conner, but you may as well come to our camp for breakfast first.” She kicked at the cold branches in his campfire to scatter them.

“Our camp?” Conner put a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head so she had to look at him. “I thought you were alone.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated where you’re concerned.” Conner dropped his hand from her chin.

“Who’s with you? I requested to be first choice. I thought no one was allowed to accompany you.”

“So did I, but this woman showed up in the middle of the night.”

“A woman?”

“She’s not exactly ordinary.” Charming was unsure what she was allowed to say about Selena.

“She says she can teach me things that will help me on the quest.”

Conner frowned. “I want to meet her, question her.”

“I said you could come for breakfast, but don’t try to be Princess Defender or whatever role you think you must fill.”

“I can’t help being your defender, don’t you know that?” Conner’s voice sounded softer, deeper. He brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead and let his fingers linger on her cheek.
Her skin tingled where he touched her. His eyes were the same color as pine trees. Why had she never noticed how rich and mysterious the color was before? And his lashes were long enough to cast shadows.

His hand cupped her chin while his thumb grazed her lower lip, feather-soft. “Charms, we never get to be alone. I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” His face dipped toward hers.

Time seemed to stop. She’d never been alone like this with any boy. As she looked into Conner’s familiar face, she was fascinated by how changed he looked--the way his eyelids were heavy, his lips slightly parted.

It seemed that the world held its breath, and there was no one but the two of them in all time and space. But there was so little space between them now. She lifted her chin, offering her mouth to be kissed, longing to know what his lips would feel like on hers.

A tiny gust of wind came out of nowhere, whipping a strand of her hair loose. It danced across her nose and then Conner’s. When they both reached to rub their noses, their hands collided.

Charming giggled. She felt as she was breaking a spell as she took a step back, out of his reach. “Conner, I must return to camp.”

“Just one kiss, Charms. Who knows when we’ll have another chance.” He moved forward, closing the space again. “Just one can’t hurt anything.”

As soon as he said those words, she knew, without a doubt, that within the world of magic, a kiss might change everything. She could not. “We should have breakfast and then you must go home before they come after you.”

She turned her face away from the hurt in his eyes. She ached for that one kiss, too.

Goodbye 2010, Hello Bright, Shiny New Year & Fests

Lifting, rising above gravity, reveling in each sunrise, every sunset. Allowing myself to breathe, to relax, to be. That's my goal.

I hope that by not making word count goals or resolutions to finish work by certain dates, that I will achieve these things through the exuberance of being alive, doing what I love. I want joy to shoulder out anxiety and doubt. So, I'm going to grab a broom and sweep 2010 out the door and welcome in a new year filled with effervescent hope and possibility.

Of course, Storyqueen says we need to be careful what we wish for, so if you see me floating off like some untethered helium balloon. . .

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Since I had so much fun in my last post writing a scene-in-verse for a blogfest, I'm going to jump on in to another fest. Actually, I joined this one last year, and it rocked. Sunday (Jan. 2) is Frankie Diane Mallis' No Kiss Blogfest, and, yeah, you post a scene where a kiss comes tantalizingly close, but no lips touch. Be brave, put up a scene, or at least come read all the juicy entries.

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And one more fest! I just saw Vicki Rocho's Eye Candy Blogfest, which is easy-peasy. Just put up a picture that makes you smile. Here is a wooden plate painted by artist Katrin Wiese. I can't help but grin every time, looking at all the magical passengers on that little boat.

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Neil Gaiman has the best wishes for the new year, including "I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself." That's something I aspire to. I love surprises. Thanks, Neil.

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1/1/11, you got to believe in magic sometimes.

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Happy New Year! *scuttles off to indulge in brie and bubbly stuff*

A novel approach, in verse

I

I stumble through woods
where trees keep souls--
dead and gone,
newly-born,
I do not know.

I hear them breathe,
a different sound
than the thrum of sap,
the chitter of bare branches
one on another.

I do not feel my toes
anymore. They are stone,
but I feel the trees,
dug in deep,
weighted with snow.

Caleb? Is he wandering
through these woods,
alone and cold? So cold.
Can he hear the trees,
feel his toes?

I saw the woods
close around him.
I followed his footprints
until they faded under
falling snow.

He left me.
For dead?
I think he did not know
I was in the rubble,
digging my way out.

But did he look for me
as I search for him? I burn
somewhere deep—almost buried—
at the thought of lips
brushing mine.

That was a lifetime
ago. Before
my toes turned to stone
and the flame inside
fluttered like an injured bird.

The trees rattle
and clack in a knife-sharp wind.
They are restless, famished.
I must keep moving,
looking for him.

II

It’s colder now. I think
my bones are made of ice,
brittle, unforgiving,
but the woods stretch before me.
There is no stopping.

The snow has taken
all sound but the groan of limbs.
It’s smothered color.
Even the sky is fog-white,
no tattered scrap of blue.

Mile after mile of thickets
and endless snow. Something red
on a branch. An apple? A red bandana!
Caleb wore one pulled low
above his eyes.

It flutters. A blood-red rag in this
colorless world. He would not
leave it without purpose, a signal. A
sign that he lost his way.
Please, not that he lost heart.

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This is my first attempt at writing novel scenes in verse format and is my little entry in Valerie Geary's fresh Scene-in-Verse Blogfest. Thanks, Valerie, for inspiring me to try something new. It was great fun.

I hope everyone is having a fantastic week and looking forward to 2011.

Peace after the flood

On this Christmas Eve, I'm so grateful for the good in the world. My heart goes out to those who lost their homes or loved ones in the recent deluge of storms in California and other states. And my gratitude to those who worked in the driving rain to save homes and lives.

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I was fortunate to only spring a leak in my home office, which I hope will soon be repaired without further damage. For me, this has been mostly inconvenient, but for others the clean-up will go on through the holidays.

It's hard to be happy in the midst of devastation, whether it's your own or someone else's, but all any of us can do is go forward and work for a brighter tomorrow.

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On several walks after the rain stopped, I found a wondrous world where waterfalls and ponds appeared and disappeared, where snowy egrets by the dozens came to perch in trees above newly-flooded ground and a banquet of fish.

For many of us abundance is all around. I am humbled again by what the world offers us.

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Whatever your beliefs or customs, my wish for you all is joy, friendship, comfort and, above all, peace.

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Happy holidays.

Double-dare you!

Come on in.

The water's fine.

I have a writing challenge for you, but first a gush of gratitude for two of my critique partners.

Some of you will recall I started a YA novel last year with a mermaid theme and then found out from an agent that another book was coming out with some similar elements. I brainstormed ways to eliminate any similarities and started a rewrite. Then I saw more mermaid books and felt uneasy, so I shelved the work for now. I need a new surge of hope, and these gifts are nudging me back to the sea.

Are they not the coolest? Julie made the bluesy ornament, and Rilla found the notebook in Spain. I love the edginess in these images. And I'm feeling the deep calling.

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Meanwhile, I'm playing around with writing a novel (or at least a scene) in verse! This is thanks to Valerie Geary and her Scene-in-Verse Blogfest, which I now double-dare you to sign up for.

This is turning out to be so much fun. I'm not overthinking this, just trying out the verse format with a vague idea stemming from a photo of a woods in winter. For now, it's an exercise, and I can feel the writing muscles stretching and getting stronger.

If you're not sure what a novel in verse is check out the excellent books by Lisa Schroeder. We're not talking rhyme or even set meter, it's more a rhythm of words in the storytelling. Here's an example from Lisa's I HEART YOU, YOU HAUNT ME:

Sleep doesn't come.

Night after night

I thrash around

like a fish

caught in a net

trying to escape.

And I cry

for what I've done

and who I've lost.

Please, click the link in this post or the fest button on the upper right of this blog to check out what Valerie is hosting. I've picked a photo of my own that I'm using as a springboard, but you can use any of the ones she posted for inspiration. The scenes will be posted Dec. 29.

Come on and play!

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Finally, Shelley said I should post a picture of my decorated tree--the one I squeezed into the front seat of my Miata. So here's a circus acrobat wishing you high-flying joy.

The almost finished tree, and the old wax angel my mother-in-law gave me long ago. It's my favorite. Peace and best wishes for a happy holiday.

A day of small victories and huge news

Every year I wonder how I'll cram a live, aromatic, non-Charlie Brown Christmas tree in the front seat of my little red Miata.

And every year, the wonderful elves at the tree lot help me find one, truss it up and wiggle it in.

The journey home is snug, especially with a stick shift, but the scent of freshly-cut pine is intoxicating, and, for me, is essential to holiday happiness.

I've gotten good at carrying the tree in and setting it straight and firm in the stand, too.

See? It's so worth the effort to bring a bit of forest home.

Now for the pleasure of unpacking ornaments I've collected from around the world.

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In other news, and this is HUGE, fellow writers. According to this article in the magazine of the American Library Association, there is an historic report in the Library and Book Trade Almanac, which for the first time counts the number of published YA titles separately from other kidlit titles.

The numbers left my jaw hanging. It's no wonder it's tough to sell books once they're published when you consider the amount of competition.

Preliminary numbers for kidlit titles in 2009 is--gasp--21,878. YA is 4,644. And I was proud of myself for reading 60 books this year.

I mean, I'm ecstatic that the market is exploding but wonder about long-term implications.

What say you?

Author adoration, adulation

I keep a little notebook to jot down book titles as I read them and was surprised to see I’ve devoured about sixty books since January.

A phenomenon, which I’m sure everyone’s observed, is how wildly diverse review comments can be. One person gives five stars and another says it’s the worse book ever. The point being that we’re each formed by genetics, environment and experience to have strong biases and desires that may differ radically from someone else’s. And, hey, maybe one day we're receptive and another we're cranky.

So my method of picking some YA books to showcase was seeing which ones stuck to me for one reason or another--it might be visceral impact or a fresh style. I dislike spoilers, so I will mainly mention why the craft of these books appealed to me. I’ve included snippets to give a sense of writing style.

THE MARBURY LENS by Andrew Smith
This is a book I normally would run away from, but it may be the most absorbing, riveting and deeply affecting book I read all year. I’m not a person who loves horror, and this one is horrifying. I almost couldn’t keep reading when I encountered an early scene that hit all my revulsion buttons.
I wouldn’t recommend this to a young or sensitive teen, but for the mature reader, this is an extraordinary tale that leaves you wondering if you’re reading a psychological thriller or a gritty urban fantasy or a mash-up. Smith is so skillful that I don’t care how it’s categorized. The characters and worlds he built have wormed into my consciousness. For better or worse, I doubt they’ll ever leave. How’s that for powerful storytelling?
Snippet: I guess in the old days, in other places, boys like me usually ended up twisting and kicking in the empty air beneath gallows.
Upper YA/Adult crossover for brutal, disturbing situations and language.

LIAR by Justine Larbalestier.
I knew two things before I opened this book. One: there had been controversy over the first cover, which featured a white model, even though the protagonist is black. The publisher created a more representative cover after the uproar. Two: the protagonist is a liar.
I was prepared for an unreliable narrator but not for how ensnared I became in the story, which is suspenseful and surprising. The reader is made a participant, because Micah says on the first page that she’s telling “you” her story and promises not to lie. “This time I truly mean it,” she says. From there on, the reader knows Micah can’t be trusted, no matter what she says, and this makes for a dynamic reading experience in which the reader questions and sorts information.
I’m impressed with the writing craft--how pieces of the story are presented or withheld or turned upside down. Micah is a fascinating character, but you never know if you’ve really figured her out.
Snippet: I tell her I don’t have a broken heart. It’s still beating, the blood still moves around my body; it only aches when I remember to breathe.
Upper YA/Adult crossover for language and situations.


REVOLUTION by Jennifer Donnelly.
I bought this because I like the look of the cover and the author’s style. I was beyond pleased with the surprise inside the covers—a contemporary tale of a troubled teenager with a kind of ghostly time travel via an old diary that renders parts of the novel historical fiction set in the French Revolution. I love the way the protagonist’s passion for music and the guitar help her stagger through overwhelming grief, and how her discovery of another girl’s life and unfinished mission gives her own life new purpose. This story is smart and layered.
Snippet: I eat my dinner alone tonight, like I do every night. In our big, empty dining room. It’s not so bad. I can study my music and no one asks me about the calculus test I failed; or reminds me of my curfew; or demands to know the name, address, and intentions of the delinquent du jour crashed out in my bed.
Mature YA/crossover for language and situations.

SHIP BREAKER by Paolo Bacigalupi
This book started in a claustrophobic, scary way and escalated. Set in a believable dystopian future, the haves and have-nots both struggle to survive. I liked the way the author organically wove in the effects of environmental disaster by simply showing how people found ways to exist in a world made smaller and more dangerous than ever. Nailer, the protagonist, is tough, vulnerable, hopeful and noble, despite his deplorable start in life.
Snippet: A few men were lounging in the shade, tats and piercings showing unknown affiliations. They watched as the three interlopers moved through their turf. Nailer’s neck prickled. He palmed his knife, wondering if there would be bloodshed.
YA with some brutal scenes.

PARANORMALCY by Kiersten White.
This is a romp--a fresh slant on paranormal stories. The teenage protagonist bags paranormals of all stripes for an international containment agency. What she doesn’t know is much about herself and why she is skilled this way.
Snippet: Just as he reached for my neck, I tased him. I was there to bag and tag, not to kill. Besides, if I had to carry separate weapons for every paranormal I took out, I’d be dragging around a full luggage set. Tasers are a one-size-fits-all paranormal butt-kicking option. Mine’s pink with rhinestones.
YA. Suitable for the younger end of the spectrum, too, the protagonist actually says “bleep” when upset.


THE SKY IS EVERYWHERE by Jandy Nelson
The author is so good at finding fresh, spot-on ways of describing things that I think the book should be read for that alone, but the story is meaningful, as well. For instance, when Lennie, the teen protagonist, describes the way she and her Gram and uncle stare at nothing, following the death of her sister, Nelson writes that “it’s as if someone vacuumed up the horizon while we were looking the other way.” Lennie can only let out her grief in written words that she scatters, everywhere. Then a sexual awakening tied to her loss really upends her.
Snippet: Gram raises her hands to her face in distress, and I go back to scribbling a poem in the margin of Wuthering Heights. I’m huddled into a corner of the couch. I’ve no use for talking, would just as soon store paper clips in my mouth.
Mature YA for language and situations.

BEFORE I FALL by Lauren Oliver

I might not have picked up this book about a clique of popular mean girls, but I’m glad I did. Oliver impressed me with the way she peeled character revelations away layer by layer. Early on, the protagonist dies in a car accident but wakes up again and again the morning of the day it happens. With each new-but-same day, she changes her actions, altering events--at first, hoping to survive and later with more awareness of herself, her family, her friends and their victims. I don’t want to give away what happens but it’s a story that resonates long after the last line.
Snippet: It’s a good feeling knowing you can basically do whatever you want and there won’t be any consequences.
Mature YA for language and situations.

Oh that swag

Ring those holiday bells! Contest alert! Beth Revis has a sack full of goodies to give to 100, yes, that's one hundred winners. That's a lot of envelope stuffing and stamps, people.

There's still a month until the release of her debut YA dystopian, ACROSS THE UNIVERSE, which has one of the most riveting opening chapters ever. I don't want to give it away if you didn't sneak a peak of it online, but one of the dual protagonists gets put in a position that would scare the bejeebers out of anybody. Made my heart race, for sure.

I was one of the lucky people who won an early ARC. All I'll say (so as not to give spoilers) is Beth continues to weave suspense and intrigue throughout the story in which generations of people aboard a spaceship develop an insular culture and a distorted history of the past. It's both fascinating and chilling as the two protagonists, Amy and Elder, begin to unravel the dangerous secrets of the ship.

Kirkus gave a starred review, and high praises came from YA authors Carrie Ryan, Melissa Marr and Kiersten White. To read the reviews or the first chapter go here.

And now we're all invited to enter to win bookmarks, bookplates, buttons, signed ARCs and, for the grand prize winner, a signed hardback with the amazing reversible cover. That's the reverse cover with the blueprint of the spaceship, Godspeed.

So, what are you waiting for? Speed through cyberspace and enter.

Here, I'll nudge you with a couple of teaser lines from the book:

Sometimes it feels like a thousand years have passed; sometimes it feels as if I've only been sleeping a few moments. I feel most like I'm in that weird state of half-asleep, half-awake I get when I've tried to sleep past noon, when I know I should get up, but my mind starts wandering and I'm sure I can never get back to sleep. Even if I do slip back into a dream for a few moments, I'm mostly just awake with my eyes shut.

Yeah. Cryo sleep is like that.

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Another suggestion: preorder a copy to gift someone. They'll be over the moon.

Jellies in the sky and frenzies of a personal sort

Clean.

Scrubbed.

Renewed.

That's how fall/winter skies often are in California. Following winds and rain, the yucky smog and dust vanish. Pure blues, whites, golds splatter like paint on canvas.

I was captivated by the cloud patterns the other day and stopped on my walk to crane my neck and gaze for long minutes. Sometimes I wish I could be sucked into the sky to drift.

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sky-jellyfish drift

on tropospheric winds

I can not feel.

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The need to scrub my abode struck next. I have been on a frenzy for the whole weekend! Even scrubbing floors and vacuuming books!!!

Do you know Hyperbole and a Half? I can't clean now without conjuring the image of Allie's hilarious This is Why I'll Never Be An Adult/clean-all-the-things post here.

She's so creative and funny that she has more than 39,000 followers and gets beaucoup write-ups online. There's even a store on her site to buy her illustrations on shirts, aprons, mugs. And, no, I don't know her or have any connection to her sale stuff. I just think it's awesome.

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So as I was struck with the cleaning frenzy, I realized a few things about writing. My writing to be precise. I have been stuck, in the dumps, churning my wheels uselessly in deep mud. I've felt covered with a layer of dust--very unshiny lately.

When I sorted through the whys, I came up with a new one. I'm driven, pressured by notions that I'm too late. There's at least one solid reason for that--a few months ago I learned that a story similar to mine was already being published. That took the wind from my WIP sails and put the driven-demon on my shoulder trying to keep the boat afloat. You must find another angle. You must get it out there fast before its time is past. But that's a problem in itself, I now realize. Being driven by any fear is not a healthy way to write.

If I want readers to feel joy and wonder, I have to feel it myself. I don't have any solutions to my situation that I know are fool-proof (oh, I'm capable of being the fool) but I have some ideas. I think I need to put aside the novel in question and work on other things. Like cleaning all the things that surround me and dusting off other stories I've let languish.

I'm hopeful at the moment that I'll sort this out, and hope is all anyone needs, really.

Secret doors to other worlds

I discovered this secret door shrouded behind a curtain of vines. It calls to me. What lies beyond?

Faerie? Or maybe. . .



Wizard Howl’s castle trundling along the moors.

The Queen of Hearts' lawn croquet game in full swing.

The tombs of Atuan.

Ethan Rayne’s Halloween costume shop in Sunnydale.

Ray Bradbury’s Veldt.

The Cat in the Hat, a Yottle in a bottle, a Yep on a step and Yooks and Zooks everywhere.

A wardrobe crammed with 1930’s coats.

The golden woods of Lothlorien.

The cantina on Mos Eisley.

Shotgun seat in a black 1967 Chevy Impala. Please don’t let the next stop be The Crossroad.

The Hunger Games Arena.

Ollivander’s Wand Shop in Diagon Alley. I’d like yew with dragonheart string ASAP.

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What do you think is behind the door? Come on, what other world would you love or hate to find?