And the winner of the hardcover copy of Ally Condie’s CROSSED is…
CHARETTE! I’ve sent her an email to tell her about it, and then I’ll send the copy, and then there’s about to be much rejoicing at the Charette household.
—
And now, for your reading pleasure, I’d like to give you one of Becca’s Greatest Hits [1]
From April 15, 2010, for your edification or for to fill my page with words:
So I’m going to go ahead and blog about clothes.
Stop laughing.
I mean it. Stop.
I like clothes. I do. They certainly beat the alternative. (I know, right?) But fashion? I don’t get it. Even little-kid fashion. In fact, I was in Macy’s yesterday with all four Kids, and I had gag-reflex issues with the little girl shirts. Not all of them, just the ones in neon colors with what looked like paint splattered over a silk-screened animal head.* Hellllllooooooo, 1984. The fashion flashbacks were appalling. Skin-crawlingly so. (And not only because I wore that shirt, but because I probably had the whole themed set.)
Kid 3 was entranced. “Look at all these cute clothes,” she crooned. She really did. Maybe it’s because we don’t live within normal daily driving distance of a mall, and she’s very seldom been inside one. Maybe because she’s the poster child for hand-me-downs. Maybe because her new clothes all get picked for her (by me) in an effort at the beauty of “cheap and reusable.” Maybe she’s showing (heaven forbid) an innate sense of style. But she was in heaven and not at all amused when we went to the old lady section to look at dresses. (Which was a bust, by the way. No such luck.)
So here’s what I’ve discovered about me, you know, fashionwise. I need time to get on a bandwagon. Years, maybe. Part of that is my cheapness – I don’t want to invest in a trend that won’t last past this season (and how do I know this? I don’t. Also, I’m learning not to care, too much). But a bigger part is just not knowing how I feel about _____ until I’ve had some time to digest it a little. I read books several times, to be sure which parts I love best. I re-make (and edit) recipes over and over and over to find the just-perfect blend. Also with books, the really popular series ones, I often wait for several volumes before I’ll go ahead and read, not just so I don’t have to wait for the next installment, but so I can hear the buzz and decide if the second, fourth, sixth books stand up to the hype. So it is with clothes: I need to see if I’m going to still like it in a month or next spring.
Next, I know my limitations, figurewise. Fashion is about waiflike tall women without hips. I am not those women. I think I hit thirty about the same time I realized that no matter how cute the fashion, if it doesn’t work on my body, it’s a large waste of dollars. I am not a girl who can wear a drop-waist shirt or dress. Ever. The end. And anything made to highlight cleavage? Not for me. Pleats? Of the devil. And don’t even get me started on skinny jeans.
Color may be my friend, but I’m shy around it. Do you have friends that make you feel like this? My closet is strangely imbalanced in the direction of brown, black and gray. But I’m trying. I am.
Patterns? Shudder. Love them on other people. I do. Bright, patterny clothes are excellent. On you. My face isn’t interesting enough to compete. The patterny clothes in my closet get worn most often by Kid 1.
But do you know what I do well? Accessorize. I love me some earrings. And long, dangly necklaces. And scarves. And jackets. And shoes. Oh, shoes. Not that I give in to that particular love very often – because I don’t. But the love is there.
Are we done here? Because what I’m saying, really, is that I don’t know anything about Fashion, but I’m finding my Style. It’s a work in progress (one that’s a little jeans-and-T-shirts heavy most days), but it’s coming. And I’m not in a hurry.
*A horse’s head, covered in splatters of neon paint? “The Godfather,” anyone? Seriously? Go to the mattresses. (Disclaimer: I read the book. A long time ago. I do not recommend it. Also, I’ve seen this scene, and a few others, not the whole film. Again, do not recommend it. “I knew it was you.” Okay, maybe I recommend it, if you can get an edited version, one they’d show on an airplane. Ooooh. Another blog post is brewing…)
—
[1] We’ll do this periodically throughout the month, because I am lazy. And revising. And occasionally funny, at least in the past.
**UPDATED** I forgot to say the contest closes FIRDAY NIGHT. So keep the entries coming, and I’ll pick a winner on Saturday. Tell your friends. Or, don’t, because then you’ve got better chances to win. Okay. As you were.**
If you’re new around here, you might not know that we visited with Ally Condie when MATCHED released November 2010. If you read books and stuff, and haven’t had your sweet little head under a rock, you may know that Ally did an extensive blog tour (in addition to actual get-on-a-plane tours) when CROSSED released in November 2011. I thought I’d give her a few months to get her mojo back before I asked Ally to come talk with us.
Sometimes when you read blog interviews about authors, they sound kind of like working machines. Well, Ally actually IS a working machine. She is by far the most dedicated writer of my acquaintance, and she works as hard on her writing as she does on any of the other parts of her life, which makes her a vast deal more dedicated than, say, most of us. Also sometimes, when you read interviews, the authors get asked the same questions over and over. So to prevent that, I like to ask questions completely unrelated to all that miscellany of writing and get right to the crucial matters of food preference.
Becca’s Brilliant Question: What did you make for dinner last night?
*Ally’s Answer: Stir-fry, for Chinese New Year.
BBQ: Do you miss mail in the mailbox, or are you all for a digital world of communication?
*AA: I miss mail in the mailbox, but I like the instant gratification of the digital world too. And it’s better for the environment! I think!
BBQ: You’re watching your favorite movie (at home) as a well-deserved break. What is the film? Did you change into jammies or sweats? What are you eating?
*AA: Um…is there a difference between jammies and sweats? And I don’t really re-watch movies. That’s lame, I know. A movie I’ve been wanting to see is The King’s Speech, but I missed the PG-13 version in theaters and now I appear to be stuck. I can’t find it online anywhere!
(Quick! Someone tell us how to find that amazing movie in PG-13. I saw it that way in the theatre, and remember that I loved it? And I tried to buy a PG-13 version for Christmas but couldn’t find one? So if you did, or have, or can, TELL! Okay. Back to your regularly scheduled Random-O-Rama. Thank you.)
BBQ: Best dream vacation destination with kids/without kids?
*AA: I’d love to take my kids back to Disneyland. They’ve only been once, but they adored it. As far as without kids, anywhere beachy and warm would be great with me.
BBQ: And how’s that BOOK 3 coming, anyway?
*AA: Great, actually! It’s been a lot of fun to write. I started the series in 2008 and so this feels like the payoff–putting down on paper some of the things I’ve had planned for a long time.
BBQ: Assuming you’ve had a moment to read anything in the past year, what’s a great new book everyone should get?
*AA: I quite enjoyed the latest book in Alan Bradley’s Flavia De Luce series, “I Am Half-Sick of Shadows.”
(Can I get an Amen for Flavia de Luce? Start with Bradley’s “The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie.” You won’t be sorry.)
BBQ: If you could hire an old-time TV character to help you do your MOM work, which one? (Anything pre-The Nanny) *Perry Mason. He could walk around and smolder at things and then they’d pick themselves up and put themselves away.
(Every time I read that answer, it makes me giggle. See, here’s me thinking Donna Reed or Mrs. Cleaver. Leave it to Ally to bring me Perry. And, hello? I would love to have Mr. Raymond Burr in my house, smoldering. If for nothing else, I will love you forever, Ally, for giving me that image.)
BBQ: Are you partial to a certain brand of running shoes?
*AA: Mizunos. Love them. They fit my foot right and there is something about them that makes the breaking-in period a lot less than any of the others I’ve tried (and I’ve tried a lot).
BBQ: If you were given a bottle of nail polish, would you be most likely to paint fingers or toes?
*AA: Toes. I can’t wear polish on my fingernails. It makes me feel like my nails can’t breathe and I can’t stand it. I know that’s quite weird!
(Not weird at all. My fingers can’t breathe when polished, either. Also, there’s the matter of Unsightly Chipping. But I’m all for toes… Until I start doing dishes with my feet. Then we may have to revisit the chipping issue…)
Thank you, dear Ally, for spending some minutes indulging my bizarre, nosy side.
And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: PRIZES! I have here (right here — I know you can’t see it, but you can take my word for it) a beautiful copy of CROSSED, for which you are drooling right now.
Want it? Do you? Well, allow me to give it away. All you have to do is leave a comment telling me you want to win the book. That’s it! Then I’ll pick a winner sometime later this week. And I will let you know, winner, that it’s you. Because that’s how I like to do things. If you can manage to live in the USA or Canada, it will help me out a whole lot, thanks very much. I’m not sure my little post office is capable of handling the international shipping thing. (Just kidding. I’m cheap, is all. US or Canada residents only.)
And even if you aren’t the one who gets to take home this wonderful prize, Fear Not. Because we have prizes all month long. Stay tunes and stuff…
The following songs all have 112 beats per minute. As I discovered prepping my world for Kid 3′s science fair project. GO:
Mozart’s Concerto for Piano and Orchestra #26
Cake’s “Frank Sinatra”
Goo Goo Dolls’ “I Wanna Get Married”
The Cardigans’ “Love Fool”
Aretha’s “RESPECT”
You never know when that information is going to come in handy. And that, my friends, is precisely how I am Here For You.
You’re welcome. Happy Monday.
(Don’t forget to show up here on Wednesday. Because we have the fabulous, brilliant, lovely Ally Condie returning for a second interview, and I’m totally giving you a chance to win CROSSED. Already have one? Have another. Want to know how many copies are in my shelves? Or, just wait. Many, many more prizes throughout February. But our Ally is first. So get here.)
And a few notes from the Are-You-Kidding-Me section of my life:
1. Kid 1 has been going to a seriously awesome conference over the past 3 days at BYU for high school theatre kids, and she is in drama-queen heaven. In fact, I haven’t seen her much at all, and certainly not in daylight, and I’m missing her, because this is kinda what it’s going to be like when she moves out which day is very far away but steadily coming closer.
2. 10 days without sugar and white flour, and only one cheat. Yay, me! (And thanks to Kid 2 for sharing that shake with me.)
3. Did I mention that I’m in NUNSENSE in March? The musical comedy starring 5 nuns? Where they have to raise money to bury the last 4 nuns that died on that terrible day when Sister Julia, Child of God, poisoned everyone with her vichyssoise? And did I mention that I’m playing Sister Hubert, the novice leader? That’s it. The 38-year-old white Mormon mom of 4 is playing the Black Nun. Sell it, Sister!
4. Famous people are milling around our little town in the Frozen Mountaintops because of the Sundance Film Festival. And I stay inside altogether too often to run much of a risk of bumping into anyone.
5. Husband’s film project that I told you about a few weeks ago is going strong. Yesterday Mr. Vai Sikahema wrote an excellent article for the online Deseret News, and people are getting excited about jumping on board. Also, I want Mr. Vai Sikahema to move into our house. I grow fonder of him by the hour. What a gentle, lovely man. Also, a darn fine writer, which I’m not sure you can say for Every Single former NFL player.
6. I loved John Green’s The Fault in our Stars and read it all up in one day. I dream of the day when I’ll be so clever in sentence construction. Also, I may have a tiny fangirl crush. Is that even possible if I’m WAY older than he is? Can you still call it Fangirl?
7. I got a pulse-reader app for my phone, to help Kid 3 with her science fair project (yes, I still hate the science fair). It told me, on the day I first tried it, that my resting pulse rate was 53. Pretty normal. Then, the next day, because it’s fun, I measured again, still resting. 113. 113? 113. Huh. How science-y is that?
So when you’re a writer and you’re in the Query Zone, you have these REALLY HARD things[1] to do, which are not in any particular order, because this is MY blog and I can do things out of order if I so desire. And I do.
1. Put yourself and your story out there. I know it’s supposed to be different, you vs. your story. But guys. I’m one of the weak ones. I find it difficult to separate myself from my words, when it comes right down to it. Love me, love my book, right? So if you don’t even want to see it, I cry. (See #2, below.) But the Really Hard Thing to do is to be bold. Do it. Expose your book, or else how is Magic Agent going to know it’s the Book of Dreams? Things that make this possible: Beta readers, critique partners, agentQuery.com, and queryTracker.com. Also Blue Bunny ice cream and a great deal of buttered popcorn.
2. Not cry. Remember “What About Bob?” I do. I love Bob. “I just treat them like a phone call. Bad connection? Hang up and try again.” It is a Really Hard Thing to take rejection gracefully. But we can do it. We can. We can even send a very short “Thanks Anyway” email, if we’re so inclined. We can breathe in and out. All day long. Things that make this possible: Lindt Excellence “touch of sea salt” Dark Chocolate Bars. And I don’t usually even like chocolate. Also a hot bath or a few episodes of White Collar. (Also, one “yes” goes a long way toward making me graceful about several “no”s, but that’s not really within my control.)
3. Write the cursed Query. Yup. Really Hard Thing. What? you say. It’s a PAGE long. Just write it, already. Yeah, okay, I answer you. But it’s the ONE PAGE that an agent will see and then say, “Holy cow. That is the most charming writer / fabulous story in the history of charming writers and fabulous stories. I must, must adore everything that person ever writes.” So there’s that tiny expectation of brilliance at the beginning. Also, there’s the conflicting advice. One agent says “This is a business letter.” Another says, “This is not a business letter.” One says, “Make me laugh.” Another says “Gimmicks are the death of your query.” (The only non-conflicting advice seems to be “Spell my name correctly, if you please.”) But we can write the letter. Things that make this possible: Remember you’ve already written the book. That should help a bit. Also, agentQuery.com has archives of query letters, along with “formulas” and success stories. And Chuck @ Writer’s Digest has this ongoing “Successful Queries” segment, where every couple of months he posts a (you guessed it, didn’t you?) successful query. Agents sometimes post good queries on their blogs. So go steal some good ideas. And then make them yours. And then ask people who read books to look at the letter. Would they want to read the story from your hook? Like that. Go get ‘em.
4. Tailor said query. Because agents are human (oh, yes they are), they’ll want different things. So it’s not a very good idea to create and send a totally bland, generic query. You sort of have to tweak it to each one’s needs, personality, and current wishes. Have you met him? Say so. Does she rep someone you read/love/know? Say so. Has she recently given an interview wherein she announced that what she’s REALLY looking for is a post-apocalyptic zombie mermaid story told in verse? And that’s just what you have, right there on your laptop? Mention it. The research alone for such tweaking can take FOREVER. Okay, not forever, but hours a day. Hours. And then there’s the actual rewriting. That is a Really Hard Thing. Things that make this possible: Hello, computers? Just let yourself imagine doing all this junk longhand. Smile about your privileges. Carry on. Also, if you’ve done #3, you have a solid basis. Just sand it, paint it, and tie a little bow on it. Or something.
5. Add a synopsis, sometimes. And that’s what we’re talking about today, my friends. (Oh, did you think I’d already done plenty of talking? Pardon.) Several of the agents I’ve contacted request a synopsis. According to most sources, this is a 500-1000-word document (3rd person, present tense) that Tells Your Story. Remember all that business about Show vs Tell? You have shown. That’s your book. Now tell. Sounds easy, right?
*chirp*
It was hard. I found myself starting paragraphs, deleting them, saying unladylike words, starting more paragraphs. Repeat. And repeat. So here’s what I finally did that worked for me. And it’s not rocket science, but it’s a beginning. Take it or leave it, as always. The thing that made this possible: In short phrases, I wrote what someone did. NOT what happened. There’s a difference, because you only have 500-1000 words, so you don’t want to go into all the psychology, the history, the backstory. What someone did. Like this: Verb direct object.
I made a list. Maybe you’re one of those character-laden people who outlines. Of so, you win at this part. Just copy stuff from your outline. (Another reason it might be good to learn to outline. I’ll take it under consideration. Maybe.) My list was about 18-20 sentence fragments that told (with an active verb) what someone did. If I saw the words “realized” “understood” or “learned” creeping into my list, I deleted them. That’s not an action.
Let’s do one.
Walks in woods
Sneaks into house
Eats porridge
Sits in chair
Breaks everything
Sleeps in bed
Wakes to Bears
Runs away
When my real list (not this super-classy one) took me from beginning to end of story, I made each sentence fragment a paragraph, or combined a few into one. Then, when all the verb/direct object fragments became paragraphs, I whittled down what was too wordy and plumped up what needed more detail to be understood. As you can tell from my list above, I didn’t list everything that happened in the story. I didn’t list every character’s viewpoint. I can fatten up some of those things in the paragraphs, but just enough to give the gist. Now that you’ve stunned them with your storytelling prowess, they’ll be once again stunned, upon reading your manuscript, that you can also WRITE. Which, as we all know, is not the same thing. Also, a synopsis, most websites will tell you, is not a movie trailer. Tell how the book ends. If this goes against your grain, too bad. Agents who ask for synopses want spoilers.
If the writing the synopsis part seems too much work, maybe you’re not ready to query. Did that sound harsh? It was meant to, kind of. Because, yes, “finishing” your novel is the end of your work.
Want to know which end?
—
[1] assuming you’ve already done the Really Hard Thing of, you know, writing a fabulous book
Oh, come on. You know it will. Fun is what February is made of, after all. Fun and and pink frosting and gimmicky crap.
Gimmicky Crap. Let’s make a band.
Okay, so maybe not.
But. Fun. We’re going to have it. In February. We are. And you’re invited, and so are all of your friends.
There will be BOOKS to give away! (At least 4 books. Maybe more. Given away. Maybe to you.)
There will be TREATS! (or at least recipes. But maybe really real treats, if I’m back on sugar by then. Now that I’ve given this some thought, don’t count on really real treats.)
Kid 3 will return with BELLE’S BOOKSHELF!
There will be some GREATEST HITS!
There will be HAIKU!
And it might make you giggle
Or simply weep, weep.
There will be INTERVIEWS and GUEST BLOG STUFF and LINKS to more fun things.
The whole month is like one of those Oprah episodes where she did that “Favorite Things” thing. (I never saw one of those. I watched Oprah a few times, and it didn’t actually agree with me. It mostly gave me new things to be afraid of, I’m afraid.) But Becca’s Favorite Things should be free from fear. Unless you’re afraid of Broadway musicals. Or butter. Or Creepin’ Death, the Dorm Cat. Like that.
Also, I promise, if you want to win something, you won’t have to do anything other than comment and maybe answer a private email wherein I ask for your address. I don’t do tweets or followers or “mention this on FB and win my eternal devotion” — although eternal devotion does have its plusses. So come on back. Stay a while. And we’re all in for some FUN.
—
Want to be a guest? Want to pimp your product? Want to get some face time? Email me and let’s discuss.
—
ALSO: Looking ahead to March, don’t forget to sign up for the STORY @ HOME conference – whether you’re a family history kind of person, or a blogger, or a storyteller, or none of the above but just want some excellent ideas on writing your story. DETAILS HERE and HERE and HERE. Also in the sidebar.
What? A week? It’s been a week since my Last Brilliant Post? How does such a thing happen?
I’ll tell you how it happens.
You just go ahead and live a little of your life and your blogging time diminishes to a little sparkly crystal of preciousness which you hold near your heart and stare at in your quiet moments.
Or something.
But we took a little family trip (to a sunny southern city) and we laughed and we hiked and we sang songs and we told funny stories and Kid 1 may have poured her coffee-machine hot cocoa into the bottom of her mug, forgetting that little detail of Turning the Mug Over. We swam and we fogged-in the hot-tub room and we ate 5 pounds of gummy worms among us. And those were a few really fun days.
But also. There was this other thing.
I’m querying, you see. And for me, querying is a mad mixture of exciting and horrible, much like cheese fondue or deep-fried anything. It feels so awesome right up until it starts feeling barf-inducing.
I’ve sent out several queries. I’ve gotten about 10% positive response. (No, Dad, that doesn’t mean offers of representation. That means people saying “That doesn’t sound too bad. Send the manuscript – or part of it – to me and I’ll have a look at it.” Which is so very, very positive. To me.) And I’ve gotten several very polite rejections.
Rejections, polite or otherwise, make me sad.
Because as much as I’d like to say I can separate myself from my work, it’s PERSONAL. You know? It is. And a tiny part of me wants to knock on the metaphorical doors of these nice people and say, “But LOOK at me. I’m nice. I’m groomed. I’m wearing accessories. And also, I know how to write a book that is Good.”
Which, naturally, I can’t say to them, because that’s not how it works.
Which, naturally, causes ulcers.
Naturally.
So I live with it. I put on a happy face and I do a few deep sighs once in a while. I send out five more queries. I eat a piece of something delicious (which was, up to yesterday, a square of almond toffee, but from now on until later, it will be something sugarless and without white flour, because also the one-pound-a-week thing isn’t working no matter how many positive thoughts I send its way. See note above re. gummy worms) and I move on.
Also, because I have had some successes (remember those positive responses?) I bought myself a book. “The Fault in our Stars” by John Green. I hope it’s glorious. I have reason to hope. Because he’s brilliant, and stuff. (But mine wasn’t signed. And I might have to do something about that. If you’re not a Nerdfighter, you may not know that JG signed like 150,000 copies of “TFIOS” for the first run. Who gets a first run printing of 150,000? John Green does.) **UPDATE: I looked it up. Only the PRE-ORDERED 150,000 books are signed. Pre-ordered. 150,000. Signed. Go, John Green. You go.
So, on we go, ulcers and rejections and smiles and carrot sticks and all.
I have a book recommendation for you. Yes, you. This is my new thing, as opposed to telling you every book I ever read or re-read. Because I have decided that you probably don’t care, and so there you go. But if you’re looking for something, try this.
 Once I escaped from an orphanage to find Mum and Dad.
Once I saved a girl called Zelda from a burning house.
Once I made a Nazi with toothache laugh.
My name is Felix.
This is my story.
Everybody deserves to have something good in their life.
At least ONCE.
(The above, from the book, actually taken from Mr. Gleitzman’s personable and delightful website.)
Poland, WWII. A Jewish boy who prays to God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Adolph Hitler. All at once. A notebook full of stories. An adventurous heart. A poetic, spare, lyrical narrative. Oh, guys, just a very, very great book.
It reminds me of Spinelli’s remarkable “Milkweed” which cracks the heart wide open, but ONCE tells a smaller story in scope, and leaves the possibility of perfect-ending in the reader’s mind.
« Older posts
|
![](http://<a href="http://cherishbound.com/blog/storyathome/"><img src="http://cherishbound.com/blog/wp-content/themes/cherishbound/images/attendbutton.png" title="I’m Attending"/></a>)
2 comments