'Tis the season for lots of people to come in close contact with one another, crowding shopping aisles, waiting in check-out lines, and vying for the best parking spaces. It is a time where people are called to either be generous or selfish, gracious or vindictive, making a decision or taking an action that can color the rest of an otherwise normal day.* It's the domino effect of meaning-making happening a billion times a second.

Lesson herein for the wily writer? Nail your words.

How we relate to words is how we relate to our characters and how our characters relate to the world around them. Consider how might we treat the earth if it wasn't called "Earth" (aka "Dirt") but was "Mother" or "Heaven" (ala Terry Pratchett's Nac Mac Feegle) or named simply "Home"? How might we treat it differently? How might we see ourselves living there? Flip it to minutia: What if natural elimination was called "making water" and "making soil" – thinking of old Larry Niven, here – how would that connect people to their world? To their bodies? To the food chain? To embarrassment and potty training young? What would be considered "trash" in society? Why is the stuff circling our orbit called "space junk" instead of "planetary jewelry"? Who chose the words we use so casually in everyday conversation?

As the author, you do.

Don't say the moon is full and the night is dark. What does that say? How does the moon look when seen through your character's eyes at that moment – think about what has just happened, what's about to happen, & what does s/he fervently pray will or won't happen next? Does the moon yawn? Glare? Linger? Welcome? Does the night beckon? Dare? Swallow? Condemn? Does it flip in an instant from romantic to icy? From promising to all-hope-is-lost? From sheltered to exposed? How will this affect the next person the character speaks to? The next action s/he takes? The next scene?

The dominoes fall and keep falling until a switch is flipped and that has to come from the character's changing perspective, given new information or a new attitude. The funny thing to remember is that the nouns themselves don't change – the moon is still the moon, the night is still dark – but how it occurs to the POV and the reader is all very subjective, reflected in an adjective, an adverb, or a well-chosen comparative phrase. Think about what colors the eyes of your world? Does your character wear rose-colored, sepia-colored, or one-way-mirrored sunglasses?

It only takes a moment to change your mood. A single act of kindness, a single act of anger, can turn a warm day into a dismal letdown, a cold night into a diamond-speckled stage set for two. Why should it be any different for our characters? Or for the world we've laid at their feet?

It's all in how you say it. Moment to moment. Bird by bird.**

You and a few well-chosen words.


* And just so you know, while I realize that the shopping craze can bring out the worst in people, I personally witnessed people being at their politest, most helpful, and kind to one another. It was rather uplifting...and kind of creepy. ;-)
** Not to be confused with this.

There are many things to be grateful for, but I'm most grateful for my family and friends who share this journey with me.

Happy holidays for you & yours!

I could have lots and lots to say about "Harlequin Horizons"
and publishing scams,
and out-for-profit agencies,
and fleecing authors in gerenal,
...but others have said it best:

Janet Reid asks not have smoke blown up our asterisks.
Kristin Nelson began the question of exploitation vs. empowerment and followed where folks clearly stand. (How Publishing Really Works asked the very same thing!)
Jackie Kessler lays it out flat with a smirk.
N. K. Jemisin delivers a scathingly fair insider's assessment.
The Examiner notes that a rotted rose by any other name may not be enough to appease HH's critics.
& Making Light includes the actual letters from RWA, MWA & SFWA on their blog.

Bottom line, folks: the publishing business is changing, that's for certain, but remember even in these desperate, uncertain, impatient times Yog's Law (which I know via the words of uber-agent Barry Goldblatt): "Money should *always* flow towards the author."

Nuff said.

Sometimes inspiration glides in on soft wings with feather-touches and gossamer veils.
And sometimes inspiration is a hammer up the head.

I'm somewhere in-between where my inspiration is hiding under nooks and crannies that I have to tease, cajole and winnow out using the mental equivalent of ancient barber's tongs.

It isn't pretty. Please avert your eyes.

(Although if anyone would like to send me imps ears, please do!)

I was having a discussion about what people like about steampunk – why it resonates with some people and when it might not. There's a lot of range from aeronauts to zeppelins, and it's more a "feeling" about a past-that-wasn't, like Gemma Doyle with a Tesla-cane or William the Bloody's younger, smarter brother sporting a mechanical arm. While Cherie Priest wrote a great blog post about why steampunk is both so compelling and inclusive and why she loves it so, I encapsulated what I thought into these three silly categories:

Fashion, Passion & Things That Go 'Clink'.


image from Nadya Lev gakked from rantchick.com.

Fashion:
Steampunk is pretty. And rebellious. And strangely sexy as hell. It lends itself to things laced with corsets, satin ribbons, crinolines and bustles and top hats, long coats and specs. It's both formal and beautiful, decadent and luxurious in only the way stiff crepe and deep velvets could be. It is almost hedonistic in its descriptions of the look and feel of things and it contrasts itself with the beauty of technology, of rivets and gear springs, and even the dark gaslight undertones of tarnished metal and rust. It's cool to think about the costume element of steampunk, and certainly DragonCon was up to the challenge and SteamCon's runways are something to behold! Projecting ourselves into this world is no small part due to a wish-fulfillment of wardrobe and a yen for yesteryear's best meeting post-modern's worst. Everything from European flair to diaspora rag-tag to Western cowboy-meets-goth-chic goes in steampunk's brass-reinforced trunk.



"Steampunk Valentine" from www.new-pony.com

Passion:
People *feel* things strongly, either in response to the Victorian-esque sexual repression or to the thrill of new technologies – an era when science was the new religion and technology promised a new intelligence. There is also the "mad passion" of love trysts and triangles and bending (if not outright breaking) the rules of (ahem) social engagement. It is a Romance era, after all – what better setting for romance? "Mad" is also the way to describe the impassioned, brilliant ravings of lunatic-geniuses who would rewrite history books or social order if they could. This is not a timid genre and exclamation points have their work cut out for them!



image from "Happy Po's" steampunk toys

Things That Go 'Clink':
From giant robots, automata, war machines or clanks down to watches, wind-ups, jewelry or miniatura, the techie rules the roost in steampunk-land where the unforeseen advances that might have grown out of steam-power or clockwork technology beckon, meld and merge with what's in season, what's in fashion, and what's in your pocket. It's merely Victoriana unless the lady's got brass widgets or goggles, (or she has a really big gun), it's only a garden-variety mad scientist unless he has a willing army of clockwork droids at his command, and art, parasols, vehicles, parlor furniture and the undead are never *quite* what they seem when there's a click of a button or a switch is thrown. Without this element of techno-gasm, this might be alt-history, at best. In order to be steampunk, it has to be shiny!

So the secret to winning the heart of steampunk fangirls like me is to follow the ABCs: make it Aesthetic, make it Bracing & make sue that something somewhere goes ‘Clink!’

For some unknown reason, I got this on my mind:


Ginger Snaps,



Drusilla's red-and-white-tipped fingernails,



and some *serious* buckle boots.



...Don't ask me why. But I mostly blame Georgia McBride & last night's nostalgic #yalitchat. (And maybe a bit for Fluevog & everflame's too-cute fingerless gloves!)

*sigh* Back to surreality!

Old tome taken home,
Eyes burning with mites,
Would I could read you whilst in bed
But then bedbugs will bite.

I'm no fan of the e-readers, the Almighty Kindle, at least for myself because I really like the feel of a good book in my hand and what Brain Selznick referred to as the unconscious, physical act of turning a page, willingly lifting a curtain for the show to go on. I can certainly understand why agents and editors love them, preventing lugging around countless manuscripts/partials/contracts, saving back strain as well as trees (at least in the short run), and I could totally see how schools and businesses could use them to replace textbooks, reference material, store news, reports, assignments, etc. and offer all sorts of practical applications to a huge amount of reading and storage (not the least of which would be portable libraries while on vacation — take THAT egregious airline charges!); but for me there's nothing quite like curling up with an old paperback or perusing the musty shelves of a favorite used book store.

I take pride in our "developing" home library with favorite books on wooden shelves that I dream will one day blossom into built-ins with cornices, windowed in rich-fabriced curtains and artistic pull-backs, brass-and-glass sconces illuminating a huge collection of faves hidden behind a secret bookcase door...

And when I sit down to read one of my old favorites, my eyes well up with tears — not from any sentimentality, but the fact that they're being ravaged by allergens.

This kills me. While I like to talk about solid characterization and staying true to your own world-building rules, I'll admit that nothing can take me out of a book faster than, say, scrubbing my eyeballs with sandpaper and blowing dust on them! How can I enjoy my favorite characters cavorting across the page (or, more likely, being chased by some slavering creature or another) if I can't see straight?!? My eyes are gooey and watered-over, my face needs wiping, my nose runs. I have to wonder if romance-readers have this problem and maybe I should write to them for advice. All in all, it's very distracting. I can see where the Kindle may not have this particular setback; nothing that a quick wipe with a cloth couldn't cure.

So now I've been admiring my room full of collected friends, from Aspirin and Asimov to Gibson and Gaiman to Yee and Zelazny, and wonder whether I am going to be able to admire anything but their cover art again without wanting to claw my face off. I can *see* the dust particles winking in the light of the huge picture window...it's as if they're laughing at me.

I guess I'll have to wrestle with either a gorgeous tribute to books and Kleenex or a Victorian library with a single white-and-gray wireless reading device.

UPDATE: Timely and completely unplanned post by Nathan Bransford is a nice complement to complicate matters.

Hey! I'm a Wapsi Girl!

For those of you who don't know Paul Taylor's amazing online comic, Wapsi Square, imagine a spunky little Latina pixie named Monica who has a noggin' full of brilliance, a wry sense of humor, a destiny embroiled with the 2012 calendar & an impressive 8-ball T-shirt! Add to this a bunch of good friends, a mythical guide, Tepoztecal, ala Aztec Jimminy Cricket, a pack of personal demons, a totally hot guy, and a plot that ranges from the everyday to the epic and you're getting close to Wapsi Square.

Aw, heck, don't imagine – I can't do it justice – go read some right now beginning here and I'll see you in a few!.

[Approximately 3 days later...]

Hi, there! Isn't it *fantastic*?!

I was lured to the comic by a friend (looking at YOU divinebird!) who knew my fascination with all things Mexicana and myth due to SKIN & BONES taking over my life, and she knew my passion for body image and self-esteem. Believe it or not, it's ALL in there! I became enamored not just with the comic itself, as well as the amazing and generous talent of its creator, Paul Taylor, but also something that had grown out of the many body types Paul had used for his characterizations – women from all over the world had come to identify with the "larger than Double-D" Monica or the buff Shelly, the willowy Katherine or any of the frightening-but-humanly otherworldy women, Sphinx, Jin, Tina, Brandi & Bud. Every one of these characters is unique and every one of them have their own perceived problems and advantages living in their own skin. Each lady is treated differently, with their own sets of fears and defense mechanisms and issues around intimacy and acceptance of her own body; hence, it wasn't a big leap to see how the discussions on the chat threads birthed something as awesome as the Wapsi Girl Project.

Essentially, what happens when you ask strong women how they got that way? What did they have to surmount and how? What is it inside us that makes us win our own game called "life"? Paul asked a few. So here are a bunch of women who are all shapes, sizes, colors, ages, etc. who get to define an unidentifiable "something" that each recognizes as indicative of a "Wapsi Girl". The essays are honest and personal and uplifting and real. I was so honored to be asked, I think I worked on several drafts deep into the night before I'd let my husband even see it. I can say that I'm proud to be considered and humbled to be in such esteemed company.

So go check out me and other Wapsi Girls! Thanks to Paul Taylor who helped give Consuela Bones a special something (on the website, www.dawnmetcalf.com, TBA!) and me the chance to think long and hard about stuff I hadn't considered in a long, long while.

Ever thought of what that "certain something" is that makes folks shine? You probably have it, as well as a lot of cool people you know! Care to share what makes you great? ;-)

I think I'm scaring the neighbor children or, worse yet, my own.

I can't be the only one, right? As a writer, I'm prone to scribbling random bits of inspiration on any piece of scrap paper I can find or mumbling something over and over as I meander through the house on the way to my computer lest I forget what I was about to say. I'm used to this sort of writerly insanity and, G-d bless 'em, my parents and husband have grown used to it, too. But it hadn't occurred to me until recently how this might affect the kids.

My daughter grew up asking for "Document" so she could write in one, too. (At first her eloquence was limited to things like "wwwwwwa4zesxtrcytvybiun999999900000" but soon blossomed into a very deliberate hunt-and-peck "cat" and "meow.") She would sit in my lap and ask to have me read her my story (and was upset if I edited parts out – she could tell); now she sits in my lap and corrects my spelling.

When my son first comes home or downstairs, he toddles straight for the office (sometimes right past me) because he figures Mommy must be there. He types better than his sister and fights me for the mouse if I'm not paying attention to his whims. Both my children are all-too familiar with the "in a minute" or "Mommy just has to finish this bit" (and they both know how untrue these both are) so now I am forced to point to the blue bead on the side and explain that Mommy will be with you when the blue bead is here. (And L-rd help me if I flub that one. It's clearly measurable and two pairs of eyes are watching!)

My office floor is littered with poster paper and crayons in the hopes of procuring just five more minutes of time with Mommy while she works. (That counts as parenting, right?) My little Pigtailed Overlord has proclaimed she likes "writing books like Mommy" (which makes me smile) and proceeds to tell me a gory tale about poisoning, trained attack cats and melting guts (which makes me blush). Together, we spin stories of fantastical adventure each night starring her favorite princess and all play games that no one's ever heard of like "Hobbledy Gobbledy Fairy" or "Crazy Everything" that get her looks when she tries to play them with the kids at recess. My son delightedly shouts odd phrases or talks to his hand which would make *SO* much more sense if he was wearing a puppet at the time! Fortunately, they have each other...and a lot of cardboard, construction paper, markers and likely therapy.

I wonder what I'm doing to them, wonder what they will ever consider "normal." When my daughter declares that I'm crazy, I say that she's right. It's actually a lot of fun!* But it does somewhat skew the perspective of the little ones.

Oh, well.

I think Heather Brewer's son, Jacob, captured it best:




* And, besides, at least when she draws my picture for Career Day, it needs less explanation: it's me typing at a computer and not Daddy in pajamas kicking someone in the head! (My husband is a martial arts instructor.)

For all those who celebrate: rejoice with your families (all of them)!

A few attempts at capturing the costume...





Note the ears! Long-beloved Faire accoutrement now made recognizable by Peter Jackson. Go LoTR!

Happy Halloween, everyone!

*~*For those who celebrate, let the majesty begin.*~*

Skin & Bones is now electronically winging itself off to the editor's for her review.

I can breathe a sigh of satisfaction and relief. Now I can...

No. Wait. I think I'm just going to sit for a moment and not do ANYTHING!*

I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! I hit Send! :-) !!

* except write a tiny, happy blog post about it, obviously. ;-)

Twas a Halloween Event and all through the store,
Not a person suspected that there was much more
Than goblins and witches and ninjas about --
But, in fact, a game brewing
Where book characters got out!

It was somewhere in the midst of my crack-down (or crack-up) slamming out edits in order to make a deadline which then proved less dead, (which means slightly alive!) that my husband asked if I could come up with "something" to do at an event for Barnes & Noble's Halloween. There is often a fundraiser scheduled (in this case, "Link to Libraries" where books would be bought and donated to underprivileged libraries and families) as well as Halloween storytelling and a safety bit (in this case, it was an official Safety Kit for kids and their parents to register with the local police) and we top ours off with a karate demo or two (in this case, two) plus a goody bag or five (in this case, fifty), but he wanted "more."

"More" was, in this case, my job.

So, not one to disappoint in the midst of mental meltdown, I insisted I had absolutely NO time to devote to this, how DARE he ask me to do anything else and CAN'T he see that I was busy?!? And, of course, since my husband knows me very well, somewhere in that rant I came up with a plan, scribbled down the details and later fleshed it out. The result was...

( The Bookbinder's Dilemma: An Interactive Scavenger Hunt )

It was a *huge* hit with over 70 participants and (thankfully) the kids, our staff, and Barnes & Noble had fun and raised a good chunk of change for buying books for other children. It was a great excuse for me to goof around in costume, hang out with other creative people, entertain children and spend a day amongst books. [P.S. No pressure because the contact was the CRM who, I'd hoped, later would one day let me do a book-signing so I was extra careful/nervous trying to make sure all went smoothly. hahahaha. >gulp<]

I had a great time! Halloween event in the bag, more time to edit, goodies for all. Mischief managed!

I was going to write about critique groups and multiple perception into vision and some vague, thought-provoking hermeneutic ideals, but I just can't stop staring like a passenger out the window at this rubbernecking goldmine.

I've watched it more than a couple of times and I simply don't know what to think about this.



I mean, I love both originators, I love Johnny Depp, and applaud the magic of CGI bringing cheshire cat to life, but there's also something teeth-gratingly jarring about the whole thing and I can't put my finger on it...which may capture the correct feeling of the original, unDisney-fied Alice's Adventures In Wonderland quite nicely, I suppose.

There's certainly nothing quiet about this sort of disquieting. Just look at that hair!*


* Not mine or Bowie's or the white one with the watch. That one's spelled differently.

This morning: The mist is so thick all there is only a wispy outline of the treetops like a ragged paper's edge to show me where the world has ended and the sky's swallowed reign descends.

This afternoon: The sun is bright, thick as a layer of butter slathered on crispy leaves and toasted canopies, turning Fall into fire.

It is a good day for gazing out the window.

On #kidlitchat last night on Twitter, one of the discussion points that evolved from the key topic "audience versus age" was how to write a marketable story.

This hits one of the few things that really shifted my understanding from writing to amuse myself and my ficus to the idea that someone else could (and would) be reading what I was writing someday; there is no better or anxiety-provoking feeling except, perhaps, parenthood. I completely understand the mental trauma that can come from thinking about your story as ready to be read by others – especially that professional person whom you so admire and is willing to pay you money for it – but, in truth, it's a fiction: you still need to write the best story, your story, and let the professionals worry about the market.

This is not to say that we don't all daydream about what the cover looks like or who would star in the movie (sometimes this actually happens!), but by in large, these decisions are not up to the author and rarely even involve the author unless it's to give veto power, if that. This is also not to say we should sit back and do nothing, expecting the money to just roll on in now that our brilliance is on paper and bound to a spine. Every author should think about marketing themselves: websites, blogs, Twitter, MySpace, Facebook, you name it is out there to stake your electronic claim and wave a little flag at the universe. I even go so far as to actively scrounge for any and all book bloggers, book sellers, fansites, teen readers and relevant Others who might one day be interested in my book and have their information squirreled away for when I (eventually? hopefully?) need it, but I have to trust that the professionals *ARE* professionals and know what they're doing – as super-smart agent Nathan Bransford wrote recently – so that the baseline cover image, marketability and target audience are met. Then, of course, it's time to launch into madness: bookmarks (or berkmarks!), book trailers, postcards, contests, giveaways, ARCs...blitz-time is not for the weak and it's good to go in prepared. If you're not a lead title, then hit the ground like Wile E. Coyote and ask the pros to keep you from face-planting into any rocks or careen off of cliffs.

But if we get distracted with all the shiny things (or, in my case, obsessing over 10,000 contact hits for a book that hasn't even made it to pass pages yet), then it's very hard to concentrate on what we need to concentrate on: writing. It's *terrible* to follow trends – I'm certain you've heard the advice before, but if not, it bears repeating: the trends you see now have been in production for the past 2-4 years and by the time you invent anything of the sort, that trend will pass...unless it has pointy teeth and drinks blood, but I digress. Yes, YA is hot right now and fantasy is burning steady and "paranormal romance" is literally smoldering magnesium white. I, for one, hope it stays that way for a good, long time, but while we can sense trends because we hear what's coming down the pike, that doesn't mean we should deviate from what's right to write: your story. The one only you can tell your way. The one you can't stop thinking about. That one.

Our job, the #1 job, is to try and forget all the rest and write good books.


(P.S. This is not to say I'm not writing steampunk, even if it's the latest "trend" because, well, I am. However, I also think I can safely say that I'm not just following a trend. Did you know I like steampunk? So, caveat: always write what you love!)

My current WIP's outline is almost come together. This is a new experience for me as it is the first time that I don't already know the whole story from beginning to end before I start; this one's being a little coy, the scamp! Right now, there are parts in what Jim Butcher describes as "The Great Swampy Middle" that are elusive and keep lurking about unseen. I have to grab my elephant gun and go hunt 'em down.

Worse than the Fire Swamp of Guilder, worse than the Naboo Swamp with Jar Jar Binks, is the Great Swampy Middle of your darling work-in-progress that will attempt to smother you before you've even begun your journey and make you get up and do anything else in defeat. (Imagine the average author looking at their current manuscript like this:)



That's more than enough to make me surrender!

Now if you are not familiar with Jim Butcher's The Dresden Files, I'd encourage you to go pick them up, but if you're an author are are not familiar with his advice to newbie writers, I *order* you to go back and click on that link right now! While Butcher acknowledges that his wisdom comes from Deborah Chester and Jack Bickham before her, (and I'm certain there is some sprinkling of brilliance from his agent, the incredible Jennifer Jackson), his wry and snarky humor – as well as painfully funny-and-honest Telling It Like It Is – makes for a great read and good advice to follow, write down, and try out.

There are exercises and anecdotes and important things to keep in mind that can not only help us with our craft (especially the difficult parts of Getting It All Down On Paper), but also the somewhat comforting knowledge that we're not the only ones struggling with this stuff out there in the universe and that even Big Names go through it, too. Paying It Forward is a big part of this business and the kindness of strangers is something I can't imagine doing without as I made my way through the Verla Kay Blueboards, SCBWI, and found my critique partners and writer's groups like the 10_ers, 2011debuts, fangs_fur_fey and enchantedinkpot through various friends-of-friends (Hi, robinellen, m_stiefvater & courtneysummers)! If I could have a native guide, I'd be grateful for any one of these authors on my perilous journey slogging through dangerous (or at least dishearteningly mucky) territory.

Like R.O.U.S.es, The Great Swampy Middle certainly exists, whether you believe in it or not; and you're more than likely to end up discouraged, exhausted, singed and wounded if you're not careful.

So off I go, net and gun and red-inked tranks in hand, to hunt down my prey and forge through the Swamp! Wish me luck & Tally-ho!

It is cold today. It can't be cold -- I looked on the frosty lawn yesterday morning with growing dread. I don't work well in the cold, everything slows down, and right now I'm in the frenetic now of creation with my new WIP taking shape: this is no time for hibernating!

I am in that funny sleepwalk stage where everything sparks a new thought that could be nothing at all. "What if...?" is quickly followed by "...And then..." plus "...I wonder if that works?" Then a lot of online research and trips to the library, trips to sites, trips up the stairs to my library room for favorite books and movies I have to pick apart for half-remembered nuggets of other people's brilliance. My mind is filled with gears in hip joints, family crests, DaVinci aeronautics and obscure Muppets. (There's always room for Muppets! Specifically, this one:)



Yeah, that's just how we play around here.

So while the synapses are simultaneously firing and willing themselves dormant, I figured I'd ask what sort of things spark *your* vision so that you see double: the world around you and the creative machinations in your head? Or am I the only one who is a hazard to myself and others while in this stage; where the turn of a teacup becomes a turn of phrase or the shape of a tree out the window is a new scene involving evil fairies who string up old men's beards as warnings?

If you're like me, Uncle Undeadly has a bone to pick with you!

Okay, I got no less than *four* links to this from various people; certainly, it's a sign of something (I'm guessing the upcoming Wind-Up Automata Apocalypse), but I will bow to peer pressure and delightfully "Ooh!" and "Ahh!" with the best of them.

Gakked from Steampunk Cake Wrecks, my faves included:


A steampunk wedding cake by Mike's Amazing Cakes


A whistle "groom's cake" by Bronwen Weber

&


A steampunk squid cake by Cake Central user "Vaproduck" (which reminded me a lot of Creatures of El!)

So, okay, yeah, I can take the hint. Someone has thrown the gauntlet. Yea, the gauntlet has been thrown. These certainly blow away my neophyte gear cookies from the "Steampunk Tea Party, but I can do better! I can and I shall! Even without the helpful cluefulness of fondant and whatever the heck they used to get edible metallic colors in there, I SHALL PREVAIL (or get a sugar-rush trying)! You just see if I don't.

Strap on your brass-button goggles and grab a fork, folks -- stay tuned!

So I'm eagerly devouring my way through my massive TBR pile and I came across a couple of established gems in quick succession: Jay Asher's TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY and Courtney Summer's CRACKED UP TO BE.



It's strange that it took me *this* long to get to them since I knew of both authors from the Blueboards and have followed their antics and insights voraciously over the years, but the truth is that I'm a total wimp when it comes to real, live angsty plots with Big Issues that make me sad. Sure, I can take THE LIES OF LOCKE LAMORA or THE ELECTRIC CHURCH any day, but when it gets too close for comfort, you are more likely to find me curled up around a story of a cuddly bear by A. A. Milne.

Still, genius cannot be denied.

Both of these books do a number of great things, not the least of which is bring the subject of *why* self-destructive teens do what they do and offer up their stories with all the empathy, caring, understanding and anxiety that could ever be elicited through the written page. Setting aside all the good this does readers, schools, parents, teachers, friends and relatives prompting important conversation and advocacy in the Real World, I'd like to take a moment and acknowledge some things that struck me as an author reading a couple of really good books.

First, these are both books about someone I grew to care about even though they did things I didn't want to face, reflect upon or understand. The fact that both authors made me not only give a damn, but pick up their books and keep turning the pages despite that hesitation is a testament to their skill as writers overcoming my emotional marshmallowy center.

Second, both these books displayed enormous craft by using slow reveals -- having the pacing deliberately match the increasing understanding of what had happened in the past and why; details and reasons coming to the surface in organic, totally-believable ways, caught in my throat and widened my eyes. Asher's use of numbered audio tapes was nothing short of brilliant and Courtney's repeated returns to the woods and those recollected moments like jagged, broken fragments of glass expertly teased more and more information out into the open like Gypsy Rose Lee on stage.

Lastly, can I say how real everything and everyone was? The characters, the setting, the school, the emotions, the diner, the car, the party, the friends, the enemies, the frenimies, the bystanders: it all was so distinctively *true* that the story simply couldn't be dismissed as After School Special-y. There was no "lesson" being forced upon us to learn and become better for it; Clay Jensen made his own decisions and reflections while we were along for the ride and the same is true for Parker Fadley, despite how much she denied wanting us there, because we learn as she learns and join her in that revelation. (It actually reminded me of the one-two punch of self-discovery experienced by Josh Mendel in BOY TOY and makes me want to read LIAR all the more.)

So, Jay and Courtney, sorry it took me so long, but I'm in *total* awe. You got me, folks, you really got me.

If you haven't, Go! Read! Now!

(And then stay tuned for SOME GIRLS ARE by Courtney Summers, Winder 2010!)