How Bree and Brodi Saved the Writing Retreat

Last weekend, my critique group went up to Midway for a writing retreat.

The Six. Not at the retreat, but I just really like this picture.

When we got there, we realized the air conditioning wasn't working. If there's one thing I've learned about my writers' group, it's that we can put up with a lot of things... except a broken a/c. 

So, as the pioneers of yore would've done, we called all the local repair shops. But since it was a Saturday AND a holiday weekend, we struck out. Although there was one repairman who said he'd come out for $130 an hour. 

I'm sorry, I don't have $130 an hour. But it did make me rethink my career choice. 

So Bree Despain and I did some investigating. 

Did you know there are two parts to an air conditioner? An inside and an outside? Well, the outside part - the air condenser - was vewy vewy quiet. It was clearly not working.

Not the actual air condenser. I forgot to take pictures.

To make a long story short (too late) we ripped a chunk of the fusebox out and took it to the hardware store, where I asked the hardware guy to replace all the little parts.

When we got back, we drew straws as to who was going to put the new part in, upon risk of electric shock. I drew the short straw.

Thinking of my safety, I was all, "Do we have rubber gloves anywhere?"

And Bree was all, "Oh yes! I could use those in case I have to pull your charred remains away from the fuse box!"

And I was like, "I meant for me!"

There were no rubber gloves, but I did find a dish rag. And Bree was all, "Excellent! All the better to clean up the bits of Brodi that will surely be scattered about."

To make a long story short, I put the new fuse doohickee in the fuser-mah-thingee and... it worked! And I wasn't electrocuted! And Bree stood there with her towel at the ready, looking disappointed.

I was so excited, I shouted at the top of my lungs, "I am the GODDESS of AIR CONDITIONERS!" That might be the first time anyone has ever screamed that sentence.

The rest of the day was spent recounting the heroic story of "The Day we Saved Air Conditioning" to friends and family and basically anyone who would listen. 

We couldn't stop talking about it. It was as if we had actually given birth to the air condenser. We described each labor pain in detail, and every once in a while, one of us would spontaneously shout, "Girl Power!"

I told Sam the story over the phone, and when he didn't show the appropriate level of awe, I handed the phone over to Emily Wing Smith to give her version, and then to Sara Bolton for yet another perspective.

Trust me, the next time I tell Sam about my awesomeness, he will be appropriately amazed.

How about you? Have you ever had a moment of triumph like this? I felt like I could do anything. ANYTHING, I tell you!

Next, I'm going to build a car, using only a gum wrapper and belly button lint.

The Treat Down my Shirt, and how I owe Phil Mickelson a Virtual Kiss on the Cheek

Happy Friday, yo.


*Don't forget to sign up with Windy A if you want to be included on a list of local (to Utah) bloggers to pass around an ARC of my book EVERNEATH.


1.  So, last night my critique group (the SIX, ranked in order of crazy on the sidebar) had... a critique group. That sounds oddly redundant, but adequately explanatory. Anywho,  here's a list of what everyone is working on:


Me: EVERNEATH 2, Revenge of the Na'vi, 


Bree Despain: The Dark Divine 3: Daniel gets a Cavity, 


Emily Wing Smith: Her next book about a quirky girl, a camcorder, and a television show. (I don't know if I'm allowed to share more.) 


Kimberly Reid is working on Haunted: an awesome story that will change the way you think about time and space forever. 


Sara Bolton: Mostly she is working on feeding and changing her newborn, who has a tendency to puke on cue, especially when confronted with stupid questions. 

Emmi Bolton, in a rare non-puking moment.

On the side, she is working on a Historical fantasy, about a girl who becomes a knight. 


Valynne Nagamatsu: A collaborative book about a girl and a boy obsessed with making horror movies. 


For aspiring writers, I can't stress enough the importance of finding a good critique group who understands you and your work. I can honestly say I wouldn't be published if it weren't for these writers. 


So, last night, during the discussion, I went to pop a cough drop in my mouth. But I accidentally missed (Hey, aiming for your mouth is hard, especially without a mirror) and the cough drop went down my shirt to where it nestled comfortably in my cleavage. 


I dug around to pull it out, and along with the cough drop I pulled out a piece of popcorn. 

Well, where would you store yours?

My friends started cracking up. They asked me when I had last eaten popcorn. I told them I had it for breakfast (because it's smart to start the day with nutrition). So the popcorn had been stuck down my shirt for about 12 hours without me noticing.

I asked Sam what he thought this event said about me.

Sam: "I think it's a testament to the breadth of your cleavage."


Me: "Please, for the love of everything, don't ever say 'testament to the breadth of your cleavage' ever again. Never ever."


 2. A couple of days ago, my dad and mom went down to Houston, TX, to MD Anderson Hospital. (Known for their awesome cancer-fighting ninja skills). 


At first he couldn't get in, because MD Anderson is in high demand, and we weren't being successful in jumping through the right hoops. So we pulled every string we could think of, and called in every favor, which resulted in Phil Mickelson... 

Yeah, this guy...

...calling his good friend, the head doctor at MD Anderson. An hour later, my dad's cell phone rang, and it was the head doctor. He arranged for my parents to get in with a pancreatic cancer specialist later that week. 


The doctor was blunt, spirited, and quick to tell my dad his first mistake is thinking we don't have a fight. He then detailed a plan A,B,C,D, and E for extending my dad's life. 


I love doctors like this, and I'm grateful for people like Phil Mickelson who would do my family a solid. *High-fives Phil* *Slices one wide right, just for him*


Okay. This post is way too long.


Anyone going to the Utah book blogger social tomorrow night? Anyone doing anything fun this weekend? Can you join me in thanking Phil? Anyone know how I can get ahold of Lance Armstrong's doctor? We might as well assemble the best team possible...

Being a Brunette is Hard... People get hurt.

Whoa. Late start today.

So, on to the hair. You may recall that Bree Despain said I lacked the skillz needed to pull off being a brunette. She threw down her gauntlet (a ski glove) and I picked it up and slapped her cheek with it.

It was on.

I tried. I'm telling you here and now, I really tried. But after the first attempt, there was some argument as to whether or not I was truly brunette.

Here's a pic the day after I got my hair done with some of the writer peeps and my cousin Debbie and her blogger/writer friends. I admit, I can see why a select few thought I was still blond. (I'm the brunette on the left toward the back).

(Olivia, Heidi, me Emily Wing Smith, Sara B., Valynne N., Bree Despain, Debbie)

So I decided to try again. But I ran into another issue most everyone faces when they are making the jump from blond to brunette: If I go any darker, how will people be able to tell me apart from Sara Zarr?

(Sara Zarr, me)

Aside from the hair, we're practically twins, from our tiny little ears to our expressive eyebrows.

Despite this, I decided to go darker anyway. I've always wanted a twin sister. Sara will be so pleased.

So the writer peeps and I scoured the aisles of Walmart until we found the perfect shade for brunette virgins. Emily and Valynne got in on the coloring action too.

After the 2nd attempt to become brunette, my hair ended up... dark dark dark blond. Which I thought would be okay, until I got a peek at the result under the harsh flourescent lights of Walmart, and nearly popped my gizzard. I was pretty sure I'd seen the same shade of blond/brown caked onto the soles of my husband's shoes.

Even the lady at the checkout treated me differently. She took one look at my hair, and said, "You're gonna have to push the 'okay' button on the credit card machine extra hard."

me: "Why? Is it because I'm a brunette, and life is just more difficult for brunettes?"

her: "Lady, that ain't brunette."

Then my hand got caught in the twisty-turny bag thingee, because apparently brunettes are clumsier too.

Emily dressed the wound, and told me I needed to disinfect it immediately since the injury was sustained at Walmart, and that means there was a 98% chance I'd lose the hand.

I raced back to the house, and, being the calm rational person that I am, grabbed the remains of Emily Wing Smith's coloring bottle and tried to go dark a third time. THREE TIMES.

The result? Red.
I know. I thought it was successful too. 4 out of 5 writer peeps liked it. (The dissenter was Bree Despain, who believes as much as I try, I will never grow the cajones needed to be a brunette. She also believes hair is a precious commodity, and what I had done to mine was tantamount to inflation. Upon seeing the color, she said, "Why do you hate hair? Why??!!")

But my blond hair is still rejecting the color. After 24 hours, the red/brown had already faded to this:
And this morning, I found some blond hairs peeking through.

Fine. I admit it. I have no idea how to go brunette.

How's y'all's week going? It's 6 degrees here in SLC and I can tell you from personal experience that brunettes don't do well in the cold.

Beautiful Creatures Launch Party

Sorry so late today! I spent the morning driving home from my writer's retreat through a blizzard...

1. So, Free Query/First Page Friday was a huge success. I received more entries than I thought I would, and I can’t wait to read them all. Early trends: fantasy.

I thought it would be fun to share some tidbits from the samples in the next few weeks. (Don’t worry... if you sent me something I won’t share anything without permission).

Here’s the first line from Jenilyn Tolley’s page:

“I used to believe that my real mom was a stripper.”

I remember reading her first page at BYU over the summer, and I thought, Why would someone think that? Made me read on.

2. We went to the launch party for Beautiful Creatures the other night. The book is getting great reviews, and it’s already been optioned for a movie.

I’m about halfway through and savoring the gothic southern tale.

What makes it even better is that the two authors, Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl, are two of the coolest women around. I first met them when they recruited me to participate in a Writing Partners project where we exchange writing samples with a 4th grade elementary class.

(Kami, Margie, Me)

Other shenanigans at the party:

*In a unanimous vote, nobody thought my newly-darkened hair is brunette, so I vowed to show them. Show them all. (We played with color at my writer's retreat. I will unveil the new hair on Wednesday. Please don’t tell my mom I used store coloring kits without adult supervision. She’d kill me.)

*We met a book blogger of Tongan heritage. Emily Wing Smith said she knew Kika was Tongan because she was wearing flip-flops. (Emily is a friend of the Tongans, and has learned this little secret.)

(Sara Zarr, Valynne, Emily, Me, Bree, James Dashner, Kika, Kika's Friend)

*When Kika said she was an accounting major, I accidentally said, "Oh, that's great. If accounting were actually fun, I'd like it." Sorry Kika. And all of you accounting majors.

*Sara accused Emily of making sweeping generalizations about Tongan footwear, to which Emily responded by swiping her with my Pashmina shawl.

*We met Robbie the "boy with books" blogger. He told me that during a “which Glee character are you?” discussion, he was voted most like Rachel. He also gave Beautiful Creatures 5 stars.

(Emily, Sara Z., Heather Gardner, me, and blanket of Robbie)

*We went to dinner with Utah’s number one book blogger, Natasha Maw. She ate the last appetizer, even though I made her aware of my diabolical plan to steal it. It was like I told her, she shrugged and reached across the table to grab it and eat it.

*We discovered that Sara Zarr’s happy face looks the same as Sara Zarr’s annoyed face, except for a slight arch in the eyebrows.

(Sara Z. happy, and Heather Gardner)

*Apparently we all need hearing aids. When Emily told us she bought Sara Z. "Jesus Pens", I heard "Jesus Pets". I was a little surprised Emily would purchase a Jesus-themed Chia Pet.

*When I told Bree and Valynne they had "Thick boots on", they heard "thick boobs on." For some reason, they didn't question me about it. Apparently, That sounds just like something I would say.

*At dinner, when the waitress commented on my cool phone cover, I told her I bought it to match my brunette hair, and she didn't bat an eye. (Is it bat an eye, or an eyelash?) Anyway, so she totally thought I was brunette. And I trust random waitress girl over writer chicas.

*Somebody at the party kept spontaneously forcing his 2-year old to do pushups.

*Okay, it was James.

So, I dyed my hair twice last night at our writer's retreat, despite Bree Despain's best efforts to convince me Hair is a Many Splendored Thing.

I will say this: the hair resists brown. It does, however, prefer red. Can't wait to show you all the pictures. It's a good thing my mom doesn't read my blog...

Writing for Charity Event Recap: Who knew it could be so funny?

Happy Monday y'all.

On schedule for this week:

a. My quest to go from "so-not-hot" to "Hott!" begins. Both my boys are in school, and I am determined to lose the flab and earn that extra "t" and exclamation point. Or maybe I'll just sit at my computer and type. Okay, yeah, let's do that.

b. The U.S. Open begins today, and you know what that means... Rafa coverage. No complaints!

Writing for Charity breakdown:

The Writing for Charity event at the Children's Treehouse Museum was a huge success. Filled to capacity. Which was great, until I almost didn't get a spot. I finally had to wave my fifty bucks in the air, shouting, "Why won't you let me give money to the children? Why?!"

For some reason, a spot opened up.

26 or 32 Utah Authors. We're seriously a hotbed.

Main Obversations
1. You guys should get to know Matt Kirby. Not only does he have a huge book coming out in 2010 (The Clockwork Three) he also spontaneously dances upon request.

Case in point: I was telling Matt about a woman at the SCBWI Conference who tried to pick up on me at the Blue Moon Ball. At the ball, I had been demonstrating some totally hott! dance moves from the early 90's (Ants in the Pants and the Roger Rabbit) when this woman, obviously impressed, made her move.

Matt: "How, exactly, did she pick up on you?"

me: "It's hard to explain with words. Here, stand here. [Keep in mind, we are surrounded by mingling authors in the Children's Treehouse Museum] Perfect. Now, start dancing!"

Matt immediately starts stepping side to side, moving to some inaudible soundtrack in his head. I burst out laughing.

Once I compose myself, I say, "That's good, but your arms are folded. Do it again, and this time get your arms in it."

He did! I never really got the whole story of "The Pick Up" out, but I got to see Matt Kirby dance. So if you happen to meet him, ask him to dance. He will!

Matt Kirby

The photo is a little blurry, because his moves were lightning quick. And because I was laughing.

2. I got to sit next to Brandon Mull, bestselling author of the Fablehaven books, at lunch.

I've never met Brandon before, and I wanted him to sign my first page, so I mentioned it to Emily Wing Smith and she made it happen. (Because my own mouth goes numb when I meet famous authors for the first time. Thereafter, though, my mouth doesn't stop spewing forth word vomit, right James?)

I was so nervous sitting next to him, that I drew all over my white shirt, with blue pen. Yes, I did just post a picture of my chest.

I know one is expected to converse at lunch, but the only topic I could think about was the writing on my chest, and I didn't want Brandon to remember me as the weird chick who kept asking him to look at her chest.

But I had nothing else to say. By this time, James Dashner was calling out across the table to me, something like, "Admit it, Brodi. You didn't know what a 'docent' was, either." (Because James is just random that way).

Since my mouth wasn't working, I tried to give James a look that said, "Of course I know what a docent is!" But I couldn't figure out how to say the "docent" part with just my eyes. So, finally I managed, "Derh. I know what it is."

He thought I was lying.

In order from left to right: Emily Wing Smith, Anne Freakin' Bowen, Bree Despain, James Dashner, Shannon Hale, Matt Kirby, Sara Zarr, Brandon Mull, Sara Bolton.

Other Strange Occurrances at the Event:

*Shannon Hale said most authors, no matter how successful, don't ever feel like they've "made it."

*When asked why she became an author, Jessica Day George said it was either that or become a museum docent.

*Sara Zarr convinced Emily Wing Smith that Billy Joel's spirit was alive inside the museum.

*I saw Leisha Maw and Amy Reall, my peeps from the BYU conference.

*James thinks the word "exacerbate" sounds dirty.

*I refrained from asking Brandon Mull to sign my chest.

*I accidentally printed up my first page on cardstock. Like I thought it was so important, it warranted heavy paper. I had the authors sign it so it looked like I did it on purpose.

* When asked why he writes for kids, Mike Knudsen said, "I write my best, and it comes out at a 4th grade level."

*I almost didn't get in because the desk attendant said I was four minutes late.

*Best advice from Ann Dee Ellis: focus on the writing, above all. The rest will fall into place.

*Best visual aid: Jessica Day George brought a three ring binder with over 180 rejection letters. Never give up!

*I got to read Taylor Maw's first page in his book about aliens. (favorite line: "Space Sucks.")

*After reading my first page, Jessica Day George said she would want to keep reading. Yay.

*The tortilla chips were as big as Bree Despain's head. (But I will add she has an inordinately small head.) *Shannon Hale said Brandon Mull could come to the event, as long as he brought the dimple in his chin.*I lied to James Dashner. I really have no idea what a docent is.

Why I Don't Call Myself a Writer

The Pleasure was all Mine
Thanks to everyone who de-lurked Monday. It was very nice to meet you all. Sometimes I feel like I am typing into the big black void of computer wasteland, so it's good to know there are a few readers out there.

Everyone who commented yesterday is entered in the contest to win a free book of your choosing from Amazon. I may even draw three winners, depending on how Smokey the cat feels about it. (He is in charge of drawing names, of course).

Smokey's nannies are out of town this week, but hopefully I will have the winners by this friday.

Why I Call Myself a Typist, not a Writer
Unpublished writers often debate the best way to explain what it is we do. Do we call ourselves "writers" when we aren't getting paid for it?

To each his own, but for me, I call myself a "Typist". The reason for this is simple. Whenever I answer "What do you do?" with "I'm a writer", the following chains of conversation inevitably take place, and it makes me feel like a big doofus:

You’re a writer?
Yeah.
I could write a book. Quick way to make a buck, right?

You’re a writer?
Yeah.
Like that Potter guy?
Who?
The boy wizard.
No.

You write books?
Yeah. I try.
(In bad Yoda voice): Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.
(Awkward pause)
Umm… thanks.

So, when does your book come out?
It’s a long process.
I’ve got a printer out back. Let’s get this thing going. Family discount.

You’re a writer? Have I heard of you?
Well, Aunt Meg, it’s me. Brodi. Joan’s daughter.
(Pause)
I think I’ve heard of you.
Only since, like, birth, and every subsequent Christmas Party.

You’re a writer?
Yeah.
I just read a book.
Which one?
Something about… oh, what was it?
Was it vampires in high school?
Yes. That was it. Did you write that?
No.

Aren’t all writers mad as snakes?
Yes.

You’re a writer?
Yeah.
Do you know Stephenie Meyer?
No.
But, you’re both writers and both Mormons.

You’re a writer?
Yeah.
No wonder your kids are so… unique.

Is your book out yet?
No.
Now is it out?
No.
Now is it out?
No.
Can you get me Stephenie Meyer’s autograph?
Um, sure. I mean, we're both Mormons, and we're both writers.

Finally, after learning my lesson, here’s my new answer:
So, Brodi, what do you do?
I’m a typer. I type. Like on a computer.
Ah. (Nods in approval) Yes. Good for you.

I won't be here Friday, because I'm flying to L.A. for the semi-annual SCBWI conference. (Which stands for: Writing a Bunch of Stuff for Kids and Teens Conference). I am way excited for this adventure. Anyone from L.A. area?

Sam will still post the winners of the de-lurking contest on Friday (if the planets align and Smokey works his magic). And then I'll try to post on Monday with all of the conference shenanigans.

Have a fantabular week, y'all.

Lookin' For a Little Love

Blog friend Jenni Elyse has given me a special award: the Honest Scrap award. Upon hearing I won the award, I ripped off my clothes and ran down the street, pumping my fist in the air a la Tiger Woods. Then I found out the award doesn't come with a Tiara, and I walked back home, dejected and sagging in all the wrong places.

Here are the rules she sent along, should I choose to accept such an award:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award and list his/her blog (with a link).
2. Pass on the award to seven other people whose blogs you find brilliant in content or design.
3. Notify the bloggers you choose for the award and hopefully they’ll join in.
4. List 10 honest things about yourself and post a copy of the Honest Scrap Logo on your blog.

You all know how good I am at completing tasks (I think we are on month 9 of the 25 random things about me tag. I've done 15 or 16 so far.) So I'm sorta looking at the rules as a multiple choice kinda thingee.

Rule 1. Okay. Thank you Jenni. Check.

Rule 2. Blogs I love to read: Bree Despain, Emily Wing Smith, Valynne, Eden Johnson Ellingson, Josh Berk, Debbie, Kim Reid, Cam, Sam, I feel like I'm forgetting people. Have I forgotten anyone? Leave it in the comments if I forgot you.

Rule 3. Umm... Hey Bloggers! Join In! Or Don't! Who am I to judge?

Rule 4. Oh Crap. Another list about me. How about I just list 10 things I learned from my weekend writer's retreat? Kay?

10 Things I Learned at Writer's Retreat:

1. I'm "Number One Crazy".

In my absence one night, my writer's group (when asked by James Dashner, which one of us was the craziest member) voted me "Number One Crazy." To which I replied, "You Cannot be serious!"

It's not as harmless as it appears, because I was voted craziest in a writer's group. That's like being #1 Nut at the Nut House. That's bad.

I demand a recount. I mean this is coming from a group of girls, any one of whom will do crazier things than me, like:

• talk incessantly about nipples
• refer to the middle seat in a truck as the "slut seat"
• make a "To Do" list of how to become "Hot"
  
• order buffalo wings wherever we go
• fulfill a lifelong dream of staying in a yert
• convince others that one of the bedroom walls in the condo is haunted
  
• surmise that the driver in the car next to us isn't really checking his blind spot... He's secretly watching his dog in the back seat give birth to a litter of puppies who may or may not be aliens
• mention her recent life-threatening motorcycle accident as an afterthought. As in, "By the way, I almost died last week. Look at the road burn."
  
• can't park a car without getting a complaint letter left on her windshield
• suffers from a "twitchy" eye
• longs to be a member of the Babysitters' Club. (Okay, that's really all of us).
• has a serious addiction to buying books. (Like 32 in a week).
• threatens to "spring a spoon" on an unsuspecting sleeper in the middle of the night
• is scared of a wooden owl
• says, "See ya, Norma," whenever she leaves, even though no one is actually named Norma
• has the optimism of a fish on a hook, out of water
• organizes a seating chart at dinner according to who's left-handed and who's right-handed
  

So, one or more of the above may have been me, but otherwise that is some crazy stuff, no?

Wow. That was only number one? Okay, let's break this thing up a bit. I'll do more of what I learned at Writer's Retreat Wednesday.

How was everyone's weekend? Anyone do anything fun?

Feel free to leave a little love in the comments, preferably about something I've done that is not crazy.

Hugs and kisses.