Kid B Makes a Discovery... and Contests Galore!

First, a couple of items of interest... at least to me:

1. Book Reviews:

Hubby Sam reviewed five books at his blog, including Andre Agassi's autobiography and Todd Strasser's Wish You Were Dead. If you like to read, check it out.

2. More Chances for Free Books:

My WIFYR (Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers) contest is open until the end of the month. Basically if you're not signed up for this most excellent conference and you sign up before March 31st, and then you leave me a comment telling me you did, you will be entered in a drawing to win one of five signed books! (Chances are very very good you'll win.)

Also, if you tweet about the contest and the workshop, I'll put an entry in for you.

Tweeting/blogging/facebooking: +1 entry
Signing up: +5 entries

You can leave a comment here telling me your entries, or on the original contest post. Yeah, I know. It's confusing. But not really.

Fellow 6-er and #2 Crazy Emily Wing Smith is holding a contest too. You don't even have to register to enter hers. You can tweet about it or blog about it or other easy stuff.

Another fellow 6-er and #4 Crazy Valynne Nagamatsu is doing a contest too.

And again, fellow 6-er and #5 Crazy Kim Reid is in on the action too.

So basically, you can sign up for the conference (or even leave a comment in some cases) and enter all contests!

Coincidentally, if you sign up for Emily Wing Smith's workshop, you'll be hanging with 1/3 of the 6. If you only sign up for the afternoons (a bargain at $125) you'll meet 5/6 of the 6. Sorry if that's confusing, I just love to use fractions to describe social events.

On to the post...

So, if you've been a long-time reader of the blog, you may have deduced I have a boy with special needs. I don't blog about it a lot, but something happened this week that cracked me up.

(Kid B playing the piano, and his cousin Asher digging for treasure)

When you have a kid with special needs, you celebrate every accomplishment just as you would with an average kid. Their little successes might appear smaller, but they're not. You just have to use the right lens.

So we often find ourselves making announcements  like, "Kid B knows where his ears are!" and "Kid B only sang the alphabet song three times today!"

We celebrate every tiny step forward, and we're lucky that he has teachers who join in the celebration and document his progress in a daily journal. 

Nothing comes easy, and little jobs like potty-training last for years, it seems. The journey is arduous, but not without its moments of levity. 

On Kid B's latest progress report, his teacher wrote:

"B's doing much better on the playground. He's actually exploring the equipment... Instead of just playing with the wood chips."

So, after nearly a year, Kid B noticed the playground housed more than woodchips, and he was excited. And it became a milestone. Like: "By 4 years and 3 months of age, child should discover that woodchips are not the funnest part of the playground." He's right on target.

We laughed so hard. I don't know if this is universally funny, or if it's "special needs" funny, or funny ha ha, or funny wah-wah wah. But it's been two days, and I'm still laughing, so I thought I'd share and you can laugh with us.

My Heart Grew Three Sizes, so I Wrote a Poem Just for You. Yes, YOU! And More Free Books... And Winners.

I have a present for y'all today, but first... Housekeeping.

1. Winner from Friday:

And the winner of the signed copy of Loser's Guide to Life and Love, picked by a random number generator:

L.T. Elliot

Please email me your address. (My email addy is in sidebar).

2. Wanna earn another free book?

I've told you before how much I love love the Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Workshop. (WIFYR).  I know first hand of people who found their agents or sold their books at this conference.

This year, the conference will be held in Sandy, Utah at the Waterford School. (Instead of BYU. I think the change in venue has caused some confusion.)

Here's how you can win a book:

It has some great instructors, including my own writer peep Emily Wing Smith.  If you can only go to one conference this year, make it this one. If you haven't signed up, do it now. Then leave me a comment, telling me you did, and you'll be entered to win a book. I'm giving away five, so your odds of winning will be spectacular. Contest is only open to those who are not already signed up.

But wait, there's more...

Writer peeps Kim and Valynne are also holding contests for free books, so check it out.

3. I dipped my hand in poetry. And it's gooey...

Okay, so last Monday, I did a guest post at Jody Sparks' blog, and her hits went through the roof (my phrase) because of you guys. And my heart was filled with love. Seriously, it grew three sizes that day.

So, I was inspired to write a poem. And I never write poems. It's an ode to you, blog reader. Love lift us up where we belong. I hope you like it.

Oh Blog Readers:

How do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

Starting with those rare

35+ comment days

I know people don’t think

Their comments are noticed

Oh crap, did I really

just force a rhyme with ‘noticed’?

I read all the comments

And I love every one

From the longest opus

To the lamest pun

Through fryage of hair,

Through drainage of pus,

Through puddles of blood,

There’s always been us.

You put up with my obsessions

With Rafa, Boobies and The Six

And my slightly weird fixation

With zombies and sci-fi flicks

From murdering goldfish

To things that must go

With quick of wit,

You keep me in the know

You’re aware I never finished

my 25 things about me,

So what if I get sidetracked…

Squirrels!

From the posts that cause me

Loads of shame

To the posts where Sherman Alexie

Remembers my name,

Bad movies, bad singing

And a hairless cat,

who looks like the spawn of Satan

Drawing names out of a hat

You stuck with me, commiserated,

Empathized and sympathized

And when it was called for

You even chastised.

And to those who don’t comment

I know that you’re out there

Because I see you on my stat counter

And I know where you live

Are you a little annoyed

That ‘there’ and ‘live’ don’t rhyme?

Well I can’t rhyme when I’m passionate

So maybe next time

J/K, I love all readers, but

Consider it fair warning

I harbor the hope to meet someone new

Each and every morning

And so I raise a glass,

To my fellow Wal-Mart naysaysers,

To kindred book lovers and wannabe writers,

And all the white fluffy bunny slayers.

Here's to Diet Coke, and Mocha Honey's,

Bodily fluids and overuse of the word "y'all", 

Now Dash away, dash away, dash away all.

That's why I don't write poems,

I never know how to end it.

I guess I'll press "Save Draft" 

and click the button to send it.

Be my Valentine, blog reader.  You complete me. I see you. Or as the Na'vi say it:

Oe-l

nga-ti

kam‹ei›e

Free Book Friday Winners, and the Subtlety of Twilight Fans

Howdy, y'all.

And the FBF (Free Book Friday) winner is...

Britt!

Email me your choice of books from the picture below. (Give me two options, in case I don't have the first choice. I'm too lazy to take a new picture.) I really love this Free Book Friday stuff. I'm learning so much about all of you. As a heads up for this coming Friday... Watch out, you Lurkers!

My Blog Readers are Dedicated, but not so Creative

So, I loved hearing about everyone's imaginary friends after Monday's post. But I have to admit, the names of said friends left a little to be desired.

Some of the Names:
1. House
2. Computer
3. Potato
4. Bobby
5. Can't remember the name. Can't even remember if imaginary friend was a boy or girl. Which begs the question: If a nameless, sexless imaginary friend falls in a forest, is it still an imaginary friend?

Actual Blog Post
It's sorta been a non-crazy week. Usually I have a topic in mind when I blog. But not today. How about a numbered run-down of my week until something pops up?

1. Sam and I played tennis for about 45 minutes on Thursday, until Sam got tired out and wanted to quit. Just as I was trash talking him (C'mon, wuss! Are you a man, or a chihuahua?), channeling Serena (I'm gonna take this --------- ball and shove it down your ----------- throat) and pullin' out my Compton moves (imagine "Oh noh, you did-ehn") I collapsed to the ground, clutching my right shin, in severe pain.

Seriously, I couldn't breathe, it hurt so much. Sam had to basically carry me out of the gym.

Now for the worst part. The following day, my lower leg started to swell. And then BOTH legs started to swell. You're probably thinking the same thing I was thinking: Blood Clot or Pulmonary Embolism. (Okay, I got those from WebMD).

I told my sister about it (her hubby's a doctor, who puts up with my neuroses) and she immediately left her dinner party to come over. Only problem was, she brought her entire dinner party over to my house, to check out my legs.

After her hubby poked and prodded my legs, and asked me a series of questions like "You still have arteries right? and You're not in your 60's, correct? and Do you recall leaving your kidneys anywhere?" he came up with a diagnosis: Cankles.

Yes, my sister's entire dinner party (for her birthday, I might add) filed into my living room to get a good look at the tree stumps heaven accidentally game me in place of real legs.

It was the best birthday present I could've given her. Next year, I plan to reveal the strange looking mole on my lower back. Tickets are required.

2. Kid C lost his second tooth. Swallowed it, to be more precise. The first tooth he lost, he physically lost the darn thing while he was hiking. I told him the tooth fairy would let it slide just once.

Now he's swallowed another tooth. He's scared the tooth fairy isn't going to be so forgiving this time. So we're waiting anxiously for it to appear again so he can get his quarter. When do I get my "Mother of the Year" award?

3. I got these Twilight earrings for my birthday.

The inscription says, "Show off your Twilight Obsession with style and subtlety."

Yes, because Twilight fans are anything if not subtle.

I can just imagine wearing these beauties at a party, and I look across the room, and another woman is wearing her Twilight earrings, and we both give each other a subtle nod that says, "We are too elegant to lose our composure right now, but if Edward actually existed, we'd both leave these Shlums we're married to, just so we could cover our bodies in paper cuts. Enjoy the party, comrade."

I'm spending today at B&N for a marathon writing day. How are y'all's weeks going?

Free Book Friday Contest winners: And Sam's Latest Offenses against me

Book Contest Winners:

Thanks to all who entered by answering the questions, or following the blog. To kick off the "Free Book Friday", Smokey the Hairless Cat has chosen THREE winners.

1. Brittany Landgrebe
2. Briana (Book Pixie)
3. Jessica Christensen Congrats to the winners.

And for the rest, another contest Friday. (No hard questions, I promise).

Winners, please email me at brosam (at) gmail (dot) com with your book choice from the pictures below. (These are all autographed. I was too lazy to type them out, hence the picture). Choose at least two, in case there is overlap. Rafa Watch: My lover is back in top form, beating flamboyant frenchman Gael Monfils. You know what I really like about Rafa? He's full of quirks. All writers have quirks, most are mad as snakes. And I'm betting a high percentage of my blog readers have quirks.

Rafa's quirks:
1. He picks his wedgie between every point. (I found out the polite way to say this is, "He adjusts his pants.")
2. His water bottles have to be placed under his chair just so, and on every changeover, he takes a sip from each one and then returns them to their exact position.
3. He doesn't step on the lines in between points.
4. He tucks his hair behind his ears before each serve.
5. He towels off between every point.

Maybe that's why I love him so. He's mental.

My Holiday weekend in a nutshell:

Sam is Heartless
On Monday, Sam’s sister had a poolside barbecue. Halfway though my hotdog, I started to choke.

Sam’s offenses:
1. At first, he looked annoyed that I was interrupting some story someone else was telling.
2. Then, he patted my knee. As if that action would dislodge the hotdog stuck in my throat.
3. He asks if I have a drink. When I shake my head vigorously, he puts on a concerned face and (subconsciously) takes a sip of his Tab as he watches me sputter.

Um, I guess the honeymoon’s over?

COURAGE CORNER

In my quest to become Hott!TM Friend A and I have been lifting weights at the gym. Friend A is a star. If we were Crockett and Tubbs, she’d be Elle Macpherson, and I’d be Tubbs.

In one mirrored corner of the workout area, there is a padded floor, and a large sign above it that says, “Courage Corner.” I used to think it was really lame. And every time I felt tired, I’d growl to Amy, “C’mon. It’s Courage Corner. We cannot fail!”

But on Monday, we went to Courage Corner to do abs, and found it was full. So we had to settle for another area of the gym, a corner I now refer to as “Judgment Alley.”

The entire wall in this corner is a window, instead of a mirror. And on the other side of the window are the Yoga nuts. They face the window, twisting their bodies into shapes that can only be described as alien. And they just stare through the window, into our little padded corner.

You can see how close they would be... noses to glass

I got a hernia just watching them. There’s an army of them, perfect little rows and rows. And they were watching me. Waiting for me to lug my big fat human butt over to the padded floor (directly in front of them) to do my “crunches”. (I use the quotation marks purposely there).

For a minute, I couldn’t help feeling like the entire world was made up of yoga nuts, and I was a caged animal in the zoo, and they were all watching me, saying, “Look at the fat chick. A rare species, seldom seen out of the wild.”

Nut #2: “Ah, isn’t it cute? It thinks it’s doing crunches. Sweet, tubby little thing.”

Nut #3: “Don’t feed it, though. It may snap at the slightest provocation.” Can anyone relate?

Contest Winners Announced, and SCBWI in L.A. by the Numbers

Howdy, y’all. I’ve missed you. Each and every one of you.

Okay, so Sam was in charge of my blog while I was gone, and here’s what was accomplished:

1 blog, a day late
No book winners announced

Thank you, Sam, for your tireless efforts on behalf of my dedicated readership. And for forcing me to post on a Tuesday, when no one will be expecting it.

On to the stuff we’ve all been waiting for. Since we are so late in announcing the winners, and since I have a renewed passion for buying books, Smokey the Cat has magnanimously chosen three winners:

Paradox
Mrs. Foltz
Cari from KS

Please email me at brosam (at) gmail (dot) com and let me know the book of your choosing (preferably YA) and your mailing address.

And that's not all. One bonus winner, chosen by me, for the cutest answers to the questions:

Hannah from SLC

Please also email me with a book of your choosing.

On to the blog post! I'll have pictures and stories later, but for now...

LA CONFERENCE BY THE NUMBERS

Number of times we were paged over the airport loudspeaker to ‘please board the flight, so we can take off. This is your last chance’: several

Number of times we heard the announcement: 1

Number of eardrums that nearly burst in-flight: 1

Number of times I complained about said eardrum: 978

Number of times I followed complaining with the phrase ‘I don’t usually complain’: 978

Number of times I threatened to stab my ears while simultaneously shouting ‘Make it stop!’: 2 or 3

Number of times I tried to get away with wearing shorts to the formal ‘Blue Moon Ball’: 3

Number of times I danced in the center of the dance circle: Um… 1

Year of the dance moves I pulled: 1992 (The Funky Chicken)

Number of times I was invited back to the center of the dance circle: 0

Number of times I was asked if I knew Stephenie Meyer: 1 (Really!)

Number of famous authors we ‘sidled’ up to, who turned out to be incredibly nice: 3

Number of authors we sidled up to, who turned out to be butt-munches: 1

Preferable number of sidling cohorts when one is about to sidle: 2 (They’re like sidling wing-men)

Number of television shows filming in the hotel courtyard on our last day: 1

Number of times Emily Wing Smith tried to become an extra on the show: 2

Number of times she impressed me with her boldness and audacity: countless

Number of times she nearly lost an eye: 1

Number of times Bree Despain’s book was mentioned in front of the thousands in the general assembly: 1

Number of times she blushed: 784

Number of times she nearly lost her sense of humor permanently due to hypoglycemia: 1

Number of times I was inspired by Sherman Alexie and Richard Peck: countless

Number of times I wanted to tweet about it: countless

Number of times I didn’t actually tweet about it, for fear Richard Peck would be disappointed in my use of Twitter: countless

How was everyone else's weekend? Anything extraordinary? Does this feel a little weird, being a Tuesday and such?

Book Giveaway Contest Winners... and Thing About Me #16

First off, a shout out to author Sarah Burningham from Harper Studio Publishers in NY, for listing my blog as one she visits for a laugh. Shhh, everyone act natural, and put on your best "New-York-hip-dressed-in-black-with-a-side-of-Big-Apple-Pizza" so she'll feel welcome. (Her book BOYOLOGY just hit shelves. If you have teenagers, check it out.)

Contest Winners for the Gigantic Signed Book Giveaway:
Smokey dressed up for the occasion of drawing names, but he had to give me the winners over the phone, due to a previous speaking engagement of his. I'm just happy he found the time in between modeling gigs for Purina Cat Chow.

Twitter Contest
1. CyntheaLiu
2. Writing Hannah
3. Steve Weber

Link Contest
1. Shellie
2. Ruth
3. Everead.

Congratulations! Please email me your mailing addresses at brosam (at) gmail (dot) com.

THE LONGEST 25 THINGS ABOUT ME TAG

We are into, I believe, month 3 of the 25 things about me tag. It's gotta be a record or something, right? Shouldn't there be a reward?

Thing about me #16: I love to pick and drain.

I only thought of this because the other day, we were discussing stress dreams.
You know, the ones where you're a waitress, and you can't read your own handwriting, and your uniform is a pair of overalls (because you work at a place called Cowboy Grub), and you forgot to wear a shirt under your overalls, so you're trying to strategically place the straps just right, all the while explaining to the retired folk at Table 3 exactly where the meat in the "Best of the Bull" dish comes from?

"Best of the Bull"

Okay, maybe it's just me.

All of my stress dreams are about nude waitressing. Always. Except for the ones where I'm on Broadway, and I can't remember my lines. And I'm a man. Only I can't find my man parts. (Which, I guess really means I'm dreaming I'm a woman. I don't know. Psychology majors out there?)

Stress dreams have nothing to do with my THING #16. So I should probably just erase the above. But I'm not gonna. Cuz that's how I roll.

Thing #16 has to do with my calm, relaxing dreams. And this is where it gets a little gross. (I know, you thought it couldn't get grosser than the Bull Testicles dish. We really did serve it when I worked at The Cowboy Grub. Because that's what you serve at Cowboy-themed restaurants.)

I digress. In my happiest dreams, when life is rather balanced, I dream about Drainage. I love to drain. Okay, I can already tell this is going to be too yuk for the blog, but it's late, and I no longer have a choice, because I have to go whack my hair.

so
VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

I dream about removing giant wax plugs from my ears. Squeezing that zit. Scratching that scab. Even hocking logies.

NOT A DREAM
Neighbor A came over to my house one day to show me a cut on her leg. It had become infected, the skin pulled tight, a faint white color under the tissue. I told her it had to be drained.

She didn't believe me. I think because my reaction scared her. I basically ran at her leg with the garden shears, saying, "It'll feel better, and we'll both be happy! Trust me!"

The Instacare ended up draining it and, unfortunately, they didn't have an observation room with a two-way mirror so I could watch. Neighbor A did feel better, and she admitted I was right. But that doesn't make up for my loss. It's not like she could go out and cut her leg again and shove some dirt in the wound just to make me feel better. Unless the preceding sentence gives her some ideas...

Speaking of drainage (which 9 times out of 10, I am) poor little Niece E (not to be confused with her twin sister, Niece E) suffers from an affliction I like to call "Ape Arms". It's where your arms must be an inch too long, because you keep knocking things off of shelves and whacking bystanders in the face. (To clarify, not that they look too long, just that they keep getting caught in doors and stuff).

I know this, because I, too, suffer from a severe case of "Ape Arms". So I was totally empathetic when Niece E slammed her pointer finger in a door, and had to have the resulting ball of pus on the end of her finger drained.

Now, one smashed finger may not be a definitive sign of "Ape Arms", but a couple of days later, when she slammed her middle finger into another door, and had to have that finger drained as well (through the top of the nail. Ewww) the diagnosis was complete.

I had to take a picture, but it really doesn't do it justice, because I took it with my iPhone. The old one, not the new one.

Yep. Ape Arms. She might as well just cut her fingers off, and save a lifetime of bruises.

Oh, to be a doctor in the age of boils.

And just so you know, I found a really cool video of pus being drained from a leg, but I refrained from posting it. I must be growing. Email me if you want the link.

In Which Brodi's Book is Drawn and Quartered

*knock knock* Housekeeping
Remember to follow me on Twitter, or link to me, by the end of the week to get entered into a drawing for free books. Thanks to all y'all who've already entered.

We are closing in on the procreating bunnies. My spies say they are nervous, which doesn't necessarily help their cause. 2,000,000 followers, here we come!

My attempt to introduce non-black clothes into my wardrobe status:
After one week, the experiment is a success! As the below picture of the weekly laundry clearly shows.

Do you see it?

CONFERENCE REPORT or MY PUBLIC FLOGGING
So, you remember I'm at the BYU Writing for Young People Conference all week. Well, yesterday, it was my turn for my fellow conference goers to critique my work. (First twenty pages of a new project).

Even though critique sessions are necessary for a better novel, and even though I know my work is far from perfect, I still hate public scrutiny. Remember this post?

The comments started out nice (that's the rule- the first half must be all positive). And then they delved into the harsher stuff, and I was pretty intrigued by the consensus (and by "consensus" I mean 100% of the students agree):

THE PROBLEM WITH MY BOOK...
My fellow writers expected my book to have... a plot. A direction. A purpose.

Not only that, as readers, they wanted to be informed of the plot, direction, purpose.

What is this post-modern world coming to, when readers cannot simply absorb the mind of the author? Aren't we underestimating them? If I had my way for my next book, I wouldn't put any words on paper. I'd just tell the kids, "The main character's name is Sydney, and she's sixteen. Her parents are dead, of course, because this is YA. Now...close your eyes... and... visualize." Pause. "So, you tell me what happened."

The "plot" debate was quite passionate, and eventually it reached the point every critique session reaches: the instructor asked me (more or less), "Would you like to continue with the verbal part of the critique, or would you prefer the thumbscrews?" For those who need visuals:


When I couldn't make a decision fast enough (seriously, I know it seems cut and dry, but thumbscrews are painful!) they got together and said, "Let's just take her out back and hit her over the head with a shovel." I was relieved we found a middle ground.

This is my first writer's conference, and now I understand why we had to sign the "Death or Dismemberment" waiver.

But I got to have lunch with James Dashner, so that made me feel a little bit better... At least about his writing ability. James Dashner always has a plot, because that's how James Dashner rolls.

I have to admit, my fellow writers were correct. Books must have plots. It should probably be a general rule. Somebody write that down.

And my workshop leader - the extraordinary author Martine Leavitt - left me pages of thoughtful handwritten notes about my book. And on one little corner of those notes, one little positive sentence of hers was enough to keep me plugging along. I slept with it under my pillow. When I woke up, it had turned to pixie dust. But I could fly. (I'm in a fantasy workshop, btw. It shows, right?)

Favorite quote of the day: "Write a little bit every day and don't give up for 10 years. If at the end, you are not published, put that book away and start a new one."

Um... anyone have a pair of thumb screws lying around? Anyone?

btw- everyone in my critique group was truly very nice. I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to exaggerate, especially when it comes to criticism of my person.

ADDED: The book was not the one currently on submission. It's a brand new one.

Let's Make Like Bunnies... and Tons of Free Books

Random Smell status: Something smells in my basement. Status and origin unknown.

Wanna read a free first chapter of an upcoming YA book? Writer sister Bree Despain has been given permission to share the first chapter of her book The Dark Divine (Due on shelves Dec. 09). Check it out.

I'm going to the BYU Writing Conference all week this week.

Best things about going to a conference:
1. No Kids.
2. Did I mention, no kids?
3. No Errands.
4. Hangin' with writer peeps.

Worst things about going to conference:
1. It's at BYU, so no caffeine available. (Yes, I'm still on the wagon, but I prefer to have caffeine in the general vicinity, watching over me.)
2. It's hard enough having friends and family trash my work. But complete strangers? I'm not looking forward to that part.

HELP ME FIGHT THE MAN
So we all know the economy resembles a big pile of cow dung right now, and the publishing industry is no different. Lots of people are saying it's the wrong year to submit a novel to a publisher. To these people, I boldly say, "Oh crap. You're probably right. I suck."

So here's my plan in three small steps:
1. Spread the word about my blog.
2. Those new readers will tell two new people, and then they'll tell two people, and the viewership will multiply like glandular little bunnies.
3. We will arm all of the new followers, and take the publishing industry by force.

Okay, so I was kidding about number 3. But my point is, if it was hard to get a book published before our current econo-slime, it's next to impossible now. So if my name can spread like the Swine Flu, it will increase my chances. They call this "buzz". All I ask is that you don't wash your hands. (Did I take the metaphor too far?)

For those of you who love visual aids, I have made this representational graph, taking into account the "word-of-mouth" speed of my blog readers vs. the mating habits of bunnies. I'm not sure if I got the math right, so someone please check the numbers.


moar funny pictures

Is shooting for 2 million followers in one week delusional? Excellent. I've learned the best way to make friends is by bribing (my mom did it for me during my elementary school years) so I'm going for the same approach to gain this elusive "buzz".

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER, WIN A BOOK
First up, since I am being forcefully immersed in the Twitter-verse, I invite you all to take the trip with me. Everyone who follows me on Twitter by the end of this week will be entered into a drawing to win one of three autographed books.

1. WINGS by Aprilynne Pike (Currently #1 on NYT Bestseller list)




2. THIS IS WHAT I DID by Ann Dee Ellis (A YALSA Best Book for Young Adults)






3. MISS MATCH by Wendy Toliver





LINK TO ME, WIN A BOOK
Next, if you link to me on a blog, or web page by the end of this week, you are entered into another drawing. Just email me the link where the link is located (does that make sense?) and you're entered. email: brosam (at) gmail (dot) com.

Please, get your friends, and friends of friends, and pet bunnies, in on the contest.

1. SWEETHEARTS by Sara Zarr (A National Book Award Finalist)





2. THE WAY HE LIVED by Emily Wing Smith (Starred Review Publisher's Weekly)





3. Another autographed copy of WINGS by Aprilynne Pike






Anyone else have any ideas? Any marketing/publicity gurus out there?

I shall report on the conference, especially any violence that ensues as a result of gumby-heads talkin' smack about my book. (They call this "constructive criticism." Yeah, right.)

Anyone doing anything fun this week?