Free Book Friday, and Infamous Moments from Sara Zarr's Book Launch

Free Book Friday

Just leave a comment today to enter. I have a bunch of Sara Zarr's books to add to the giveaway pool.

Sara Zarr's Book Launch at The King's English

I went to a reading/signing for the launch of Sara Zarr's newest book Once Was Lost. The book was partially inspired by the Elizabeth Smart incident.

Sara was so personable and did a great job discussing her book and the writing process. I can't wait to read it.

My favorite part: When she talked about switching the book from third person to first person.

Sara: "It becomes a whole different book. It's not like you can go through and just change all the she's to I's."

Afterward a bunch of us went for dessert at the Dodo.

Here are the headlines:

*Matt Kirby is accused of being a homewrecker when he sits between Sara Zarr and her husband.

*Below is Matt Kirby saying it wasn't his fault. (He has since promised to explain himself in the comments section).

*James Dashner joins our conversation just as I'm saying, "Speaking of Jesus..." He thinks I'm weird.

*Bree Despain admits she is unable to read lips or hand gestures after I spend 5 minutes mouthing the word writer to her, and then miming the act of typing on a keyboard. She was sitting directly across from me.

side note: This one time, when we were on an airplane, Emily Wing Smith and I had seats together. We found a third seat, and got Bree's attention. (She was sitting a few rows back). With exaggerated movements, we point to Bree, and then to the empty seat next to us, and then we wave her forward. We repeat five times. Bree gives a puzzled look, and shakes her head. She can't figure out what we're trying to say. Finally the whole plane goes, "They want you to sit next to them!"

*James Dashner joins our conversation just as I'm saying, "Speaking of nipples..." This does nothing to change his mind that I'm weird.

*It's okay, because this one time, in front of a crowd of people, he announced to the masses, "I am a psycho." Very weird.

*I get in trouble with the waiter "Cody" because I'm talking while he's telling us about the specials.

*I decide to blog about Cody, and so I point my camera toward him and say, "Can you smile?" He frowns. "Yes, I can." He walks away. It becomes official: I have offended Cody for the last time. He's fed up and he's not gonna take it anymore.

(Cody, posing for a picture)

*Sara B., Valynne and I start calling him "Colby". Strangely, this does nothing to melt his freeze.

*James offers to pay.

*James rescinds offer for fear of repercussions from his wife.

(James using his thumb to indicate who we make the checks out to...)

*Matt Kirby tells me his wife reads my blog. She also kept her last name, like me. I ask her name, and he won't tell me. He's afraid I'll call her out. I would never. So, Hi to Matt's wife!

*I give up my seat to Natasha Maw from Mawbooks because her work is more important. She blogs about books.

*To cover up an awkward moment, I announce to the table that I hate fruit.

*My end of the table decides the worst name ever is Peter Willy Johnson Dick. Now I have a new name for my laptop. And I'm apparently 12 years old.

*I take a billion pics of the table. Manage to cut off Sara B. and Valynne in every single one. I'm voted worst picture taker, as evidenced below.

*When I point out that Matt Kirby didn't order anything, Matt responds (in his most school psychologist sounding voice -- he can't help it, he is a school psychologist), "And does that make you feel uncomfortable?"

*We collectively decide we're gonna use that line whenever someone questions why we do something.

*Someone makes an inappropriate joke about aliens and bananas.

*Okay, it was me.

What's everyone doing this weekend? My kids have a 5-day weekend, so I'll probably spend my weekend cowering in a corner of my house, mumbling incoherently and chewing on the corner of my sofa.

Next Tuesday, James is launching his book The Maze Runner at The King's English. Everyone's invited. It's at 5:00. Check out his blog for more details.

For any of you named Peter Willy Johnson Dick, I apologize, and I will send you a free book of your choosing.

FBF Winner, and Proof of the Frozen Lacquered Spider

And the Free Book Friday Winner is...

Kim. (From Idaho)

Email me your top three choices from the pics below. brosam (at) gmail (dot) com

1. Remember Debbie/Cranberry Fries' comment after the spider post? About how her hubby and his roommate froze and lacquered a spider? And how I asked for pictures?
If you think that's awesome, you should check out her blog.

2. I just have to come to terms with the fact that I am the mother of boys. I asked Kid C to tell me about his day. He kept saying, "Nothing happened." When I pressed, he said, "Fine. I played with Bill Bill-o-bean."

I don't know what got into me, but I started to growl at my kid, saying this is not a conversation, and if he doesn't know how to have a conversation, then I'm going to go deaf. (This is always my "go-to" threat. My kids think I really go deaf.)

So I say again, "What did you do today?"

Kid C: "Had lunch with Bill Billobean."

I brought the car to a screeching halt, got out and slammed the door. I stood there, arms folded across my chest, full-on pouting.

Then I realized... Brodi you are one girl in a house of boys. There will be no heart to hearts. You're gonna have to deal with it.

I got back in. With one single tear streaming down his face, his lower lip trembling, Kid C says, "I did Math, Mom. That's what I did at school."

I said, "That'll do, Pig. That'll do."

3. Kid C has a "girlfriend". Her name's Lauren. He says they kissed.

My first question was, "Where?" I was thinking Lips? Cheek?

Kid C: "Recess."

So when he was saying goodnight, I told him to kiss me like he kisses Lauren. He proceeded to kiss my elbow.

I said: "Good job, kid. That's exactly how you kiss."

4. It's Banned Books week.

My own take (I won't wax prolific on this point because others have done a much better job at it): I loathe the idea of people getting together, deciding what books I should or shouldn't be allowed to read. Downright Un-American. Some of the greatest authors of all time have at one point been banned. (Maya Angelou, Ray Bradbury, Stephen King, Walt Whitman, Harper Lee to name a very few).

Now we can claim a connection to such an author! Writer buddy Emily Wing Smith's book The Way He Lived has made a list of books that are being challenged in a town in Florida. Read her post about it here.

I am so proud of Emily, and this badge of honor she has earned. I told her I'm going to make her a t-shirt with a Scarlet "B" on the chest to celebrate. I also want to thank Lake County Florida for drawing attention to her awesome book. Please go and congratulate Emily in the comments section on her blog. She'll love it.

Tune in for Friday's FBF. I'm anticipating a signed copy of Shannon Hale's newest Forest Born, and a few of Sara Zarr's latest Once Was Lost. They will both be up for grabs in the pool of books.

What Do You Do When There's a Dead Animal in Your Wall, and it Somehow Complements the Week You've Been Having?

Howdy. Hope everyone survived the weekend.

What I'm reading:

Just finished "If I Stay" by Gayle Forman. Loved it. It's told in the present, with tons of flashbacks, and since the book I'm writing now is like that, I was really excited to read it and see that style work.
Gayle Forman did an excellent job weaving the past and present together. So good that I'm half inspired, and half wanting to throw my book away because I suck.

What I'm Writing: I'm doing a bit of tweaking on a finished project.

What are y'all reading and writing? Any good books? Seen any good movies? Do you write a blog? What blogs can't you live without? Now's the time to promote it. Let us know what we should all be reading in the comments section today.

1. I'm Available for Speaking Engagements... Ha ha.

Do you ever have those weeks where your life is not quite going according to plan? During these times, I survive by imagining my future successful self, giving a speech to, like, school kids or cub scouts or recovering addicts, about how I've triumphed over weeks like this.

My speech this week would start out as follows:

"I totally remember this time, when I was a chubby housewife... and my 6-year old got in trouble at school for laying his head in his friend's lap, claiming he was 'dying of boredom'... and my 3-year old puked all over me as I picked him up from his first bus ride home from the Pingree School for Autism... and my cankles turned out to be shin splints... and that one project I've been working on for years was crashing and burning in a metaphorical pile of goo in the middle of my kitchen... and there was a very weird smell coming from my laundry room, that made me think a rodent of unusual size had died in the wall... But look at me now."

And then I'll show them the bronzed remains of the animal I found in the wall, and my 6-year old who's now 16 and didn't actually die of boredom, and my other son who's 13, and no longer pukes from the Earth's rotation and he's a real life Doogie Howser, and the pile of goo is now a published book...

Hold on. My 3-year old just handed me a booger.

And then I'd show them a picture of the nanny who now is in charge of receiving boogers, so I don't have to anymore.

The speech would be met with applause, and nods of approval, and people would come up afterward and pet the bronzed rat.

How do you guys deal with the potholes of life?

2. Hopefully you don't deal with them like this guy...

I watched Sam play a tennis match, but it was hard to pay attention because the match beside them was so freaking entertaining.

It was two older men. One had a knee brace, and every time he stepped on that leg, he would scream. A primal, gutteral grunt.

And when he had to run after the ball - which in tennis, one does often - it sounded like this:

Step
Arrrrgh
Step
Aaaaccckkkk
Step
Rarrraghh

Almost like he was being tortured.

Lucy (who was there watching tennis... Ethel doesn't play) and I could only asume the man with the brace was being forced to play against his will. There must've been a long-range rifle trained on his head, and a micro speaker bud in his ear, with a sadistic madman screaming, "I don't care how much it hurts. Play, or your head explodes!"

I really wanted to stand up and say something like, "Sir, are they holding a loved one of yours hostage, and you playing this match is the only way to get her back? Use morse code and give me a sign. Blink twice for yes."

Sometimes his opponent would deliver a drop shot, and all of us spectators would groan and smack our foreheads. I'm like half his age, and there's no way I would even try for those shots. The crowd would mumble, "Oh man. He's going for it, isn't he?"

Brace Guy yells as if his bionic leg is only triggered by primal screams. By the time he achieves forward momentum, it's already bounced like 5 times and is now rolling off the court.

The guy then screams again and throws his racquet, as if he barely missed the shot.

Lucy and I figured his captive loved one lost a finger at that point, because Brace Guy was so P-O'd.

Every time he looked over to the spectators, we'd all suddenly become insanely interested in the grass. The trees. Our fingers. Anything that would keep us from looking like the heartless weenies who are snorting at the guy in the knee brace.

Brace Guy lost the match. Threw his racquet in disgust. The following day, police discovered a body under the viaduct, with a tennis racquet sticking out of the neck where the head should've been.

Just kidding.

Free Book Friday: You can Enter Twice... And my Embarrassing moment of the Week

It's Free Book Friday again.

My stacks of signed books to give away are finally getting smaller. Yay. I will let you know how you can enter (you can even enter twice this week!) at the end of the post... Not because it's some big secret, but because it will make more sense at the end of the post.

Thing 1: Writer Peep Kim Reid (5 out of 6 on our crazy scale... see sidebar) just landed herself an agent. Those of you who are longtime readers of my blog know what a serious accomplishment this is. In my opinion, it's the biggest hurdle in the minefield of hurdles known as the publishing industry. Huzzah Kim!

Thing 2:
Do you ever pay attention to the music playing in the grocery store? Neither do I. Because it usually sucks.

So, I'm at the grocery store the other day, and I happen to notice the music. It was actually a pretty good song. I couldn't believe it. I thought maybe they got a new manager. A younger, hipper manager.

Well, it was a song I liked, so he couldn't have been that young or that hip. I digress.

Anyway, then the next song comes on, and it's another song that doesn't make me puke. Imagine my luck.

But the song was one of those ones that requires a "radio edit" in several places.

So I'm picking out my milk, when one of those "radio edit" spots come on... Only there's no edit.

Granted, the music is soft enough for the grocery store, but still loud enough that I can distinctly hear the expletive. Several of them.

I give the woman next to me a shocked look, and she looks at me with an equally disgusted expression.

I'm about to suggest we go alert the employees when the woman looks at my butt. And scowls.

Probably y'all have already figured out the twist to the story, but it took me a good 10 seconds to realize the music was coming from the iPhone blaring in my back pocket.

You see, Sam got me an iPhone player for my car speakers, and I didn't know the music keeps playing even after I unhook it.

And when in my back pocket, my phone's speakers were just muffled enough to sound like the store sound system.

I gave the woman a sheepish smile, and then sprinted for the door. As for why I would have such a song that needs radio edits, what can I say? Some good bands just have potty mouths.

To enter the contest:

1. Leave a comment here, and share an embarrassing moment or blunder of your own so we can commiserate. If you can't think of one, share one from your favorite book.

2. After you've done that, if you want to earn a second entry, you can head on over to Kim's blog and congratulate her in the comments.

Caveat: You have to leave a comment here first, just so I know which ones of Kim's commenters are there from my blog. Does that make sense? Let me know if it doesn't.

My kids are out of school today, because apparently a fissure will erupt in the universe if the kids actually attend all five school days in one week.

Have a great weekend, y'all. Anyone have fun plans? I'm having lunch with Cranberry Fries. I hope she actually brings Cranberry Fries.

Free Book Friday Winners, and a Close Encounter with a Hobo

FBF Winner:

Infant Bibliophile

Email me your top three choices at brosam (at) gmail (dot) com. Thanks again to everyone who entered. We ended up massacring a bunch of cliches!

Actual Blog Post

I went to sis-in-law E’s house for dinner, and there was one extra guest.

A rooster. I asked E about it, and she said her daughter (Niece E) had been asked to a dance with the rooster.

She opened her door, and on the porch, under a box, where three roosters. Two of them have since flown away.

Apparently, the note read, “Don’t be a chicken, and go with me to the dance.”

I don’t want to be the one to actually tell the boy that the bird was, in fact, a rooster.

Anyway, so the boy leaves the birds at my sis-in-law’s house. Can you believe that? He probably found them on Craigslist or something:

3 FREE CHICKENS (OR ROOSTERS). TAKE THEM. PLEASE. JUST TO SILENCE THE VOICES IN MY HEAD.

So I’m making my way to the backyard to say hi to the Rooster, when my other sis-in-law says, “Brodi, come check out this spider. I think it’s a Hobo.”

My feet freeze. I literally can’t move. I say, “I’m coming,” but I’m really just standing there.

You see, my fear of spiders is not wholly unfounded. When Sam and I were first married, I was up one morning, around 3 am, playing Halo. (I have since found a more productive outlet to insomnia, but back then, it was Castlevania and Halo.)

So, I’m up playing Halo, and out of the side of my vision, I see a thinnish brown rope, sliding along the carpet near the door.

I know what you’re thinking… Alien tentacles.

N-T. Tentacles.

But it’s not an alien tentacle. It’s even worse. It’s a long line of Hobo spiders, making their way from a hole in the carpet near the door, across the living room to the kitchen. Never ending. Did you ever see that scene in Arachnophobia, where the spiders pour out of the sink drain? It was like that.

Only they were in a straight line. Probably autistic.

I didn’t have any spider repellent at the time, so I grabbed the closest aerosol can I could find.

Hairspray.

Because spiders are made of hair.

To make a long story short (too late) I froze that line of Hobo’s right in their tracks. Then I lit a match at one end.

Totally kidding about the match. But I did drown them in hairspray.

Turns out there was a giant nest of Hobo’s just outside our basement apartment’s door.

So, back to sis-in-law M. She grabbed a glass jar and captured the Hobo. We all examined the spider, and I said, “Yep. It’s a Hobo. You can tell by the Chevron markings on its back.”

And then my bro-in-law D came outside, and examined the spider, and said, “Yep. It’s Hobo. You can tell by the Chevron markings on its back.”

Apparently, we read the same tutorial on “How to Identify the Hobo, and then Run for your Frakkin’ Life.”

Bro-in-law D looked at me, and then I fessed up. I have no idea what Chevron markings are.

Meanwhile, the Hobo twisted and turned, as if to illustrate where exactly the Chevron markings could be found on his body. Okay, he was really just suffocating to death.

So, in my lifetime, I have killed Hobo spiders with hairspray and with lack of oxygen. If I had my druthers (what the heck are druthers, anyway?) I would choose death by hairspray. (The spider’s death, not mine.) Next time, though, I might try the match thing. Make it a blowtorch event.

So, back to the chickens. (Bet you didn’t think this story could come full circle, did you? Goes to show it’s not only good stories that come full circle.)

I think Niece E’s plan is to answer the boy with a whole raw chicken, and say something like, “The other two were delicious. Thank you.”

Personally, I think she should answer him with a bill from the vet for rooster euthanasia.

Anyone have good spider stories? Or chicken stories?

*Disclaimer*
No chickens or roosters were harmed in the making of this blog. One hobo was harmed. And it wasn’t pretty.

I am Predictable... See? I knew I was Gonna Say That

I Guess I am Predictable

On my actual birthday:
I took some NyQuil and crashed at 4:30 p.m.

Again.

I convinced Sam to take me to The Melting Pot. Again.

I spent a buttload of money on books.

Again.

I joked that this year, I became one year younger.

Again.

I slept in for five days straight, claiming, "It's my birthday week."

Again.

I watched Kanye's blunder, and complained about "kids these days." Again.

Sam's also predictable, though. He forgot to give me my present on Friday. Then he forgot again on Saturday. Then he forgot again on Sunday. Now it's Monday... Still don't know what I got, but I refuse to remind him. I wonder if he'll read this post?

Speaking of overused cliches...

Here is the list of overused cliches provided by you lovely blog readers. It's time to behead them and pull their spines out.

Rest in Peace cliches:
1. red letter day
2. here today & gone tomorrow
3. it's all fun & games until someone looses an eye.
4. air quotes
5. Whatnot
6. like a thief in the night.
7. no brains, no headaches.
8. stick out like a sore thumb
9. easy as pie/piece of cake
10. when life throws you lemons...make lemonade
11. If I had a nickle for every time I wanted a raisin, I'd be rich!
12. Avoid like the plague.
13. It is just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man.
14. Sweating like a pig. (Pigs don't sweat!)

15. And my personal favorite, because I really don't think I've ever heard it before: "There's more than one way to kill a cat than choking it with butter." Cool. Thanks Becky.

16. I would like to add: "Put some elbow grease into it."
What the heck is "elbow grease"? If I could pick the least greasiest spot on my body, it would be my elbow. Sam says he loves elbow grease. It's great on panini's.

Thanks for entering the contest everyone. And to you de-lurkers, I think I love your presents most of all. Partly because Sam hasn't given me anything yet... (Did you know I have a follower, a girl in Australia, named "Brodie"? So cool.)

My mom even de-lurked. Which means she does read my blog.

Okay, okay. I actually had to go over to her house, pull up my blog on her laptop, and chase her through the kitchen until I finally cornered her and shoved the laptop in front of her.

But hey, she must've liked it. She left a comment.

Okay, okay. I typed the comment for her. Are there any therapists out there?

The winner will be picked on Wednesday by Smokey the Hairless Cat, as usual. (See? Predictable.)

One last birthday thingee:

My friend "Lucy" (one half of Lucy and Ethel) texted me on my birthday.

Text #1:
"Can Ethel and I take you to lunch or dinner for your bray if so when"

2 seconds later:
Text #2: "I mean beau"

Hey. We're old. We're not supposed to be able to text.

Seriously last birthday thingee:

I went to tip at my birthday breakfast, and there was a totally awesome message on the dollar bill: "For a good time, call ***-****. Ask for Dominic." I got all excited, thinking my birthday couldn't get any better, until I read the rest:
"Males only. :)"

Fine, Dominic. Whatev's. Coulda been great.

If you would like Dominic's number, let me know.

So, what's your vote? Do you think Sam will get the subtle hints from this post and give me my frakkin' present? He's even walking behind me right now, getting the kids ready for school. All he has to do is look at what I'm typing!

Nope. Walked right on by.

Free Book Friday, and What You Can Give me for My Birthday

I haven't done an update in a while, so here goes.

What I'm Reading:

Catching Fire.

Re-reading is more like it, because it's so stinkin' good. It's the sequel to The Hunger Games, and if you haven't read these books, I heartily recommend them.
For anyone who has read them, I'm totally TEAM GALE.

The down side to reading such a good book is knowing I will never, ever, be able to write something as good.

Anywho, back from my little pity party...

What I'm Writing:

32,000 words into my WIP.

It's not looking good for my heroine, I'll tell you what.

Free Book Friday:

As always, there are two ways to enter:

1. I warned you lurkers out there to beware. Today is my Birthday, and for my birthday present, I want you lurkers to de-lurk. All 2 million of you.

I'm prepared for the excuses...
Just stopping by today? It's your first time? Tell me about it.

Don't think you have anything useful to add? Read Cam's comments.

Don't speak English? Sprechen sie deutsch? Guten tag, peeps!

Not reading my blog because it's a Friday, and no one reads it on a Friday? Then, how did you just read that sentence? Gotcha!

Don't wanna comment cuz you're my mom's neighbor? Hi Margaret!

So, for my Birthday, and the sweet-sixteen I never had, my Prom Date that went home with another girl, the mud pies my sister made me eat, the time I peed my pants during my tennis lesson... wow. I'm pathetic. Anyway, for my Birthday, I want a "hi" from at least one measly little lurker.

If all 2 million of you want to de-lurk, even better.

2. For non-de-lurkers, write down your favorite overused cliche and we will have a funeral of sorts for it. Bonus points if you twist something in it to make it funny.

ex: "Like shootin' fish in a barrel."

bonus ex: "If a tree falls in a forest, it's still a tree, isn't it?" (From the season finale of a vamp show...)

And that's how you play the game.

Actual Blog Post:

1. My bro-in-law Mark says I'm predictable because I picked eating at the DoDo for my birthday, and apparently I always eat at the Dodo.

We were having dinner at a restaurant when he said it, so I instantly got up and started tap dancing in front of everyone, all the while saying (in between panting), "Am I still predictable? Who's predictable now, suckah? How's that for spontaneity? Zing!"

Finally I stop tap-dancing, and I ask him, "Did you predict that?"

He deadpans: "Yes."

I realized the missing key to my strategy: next time get him to predict my behavior BEFORE I actually do it, not after.

2. Yesterday, I wanted to get a massage. On my way to the spa, I called hubby to tell him where I was going. He's like, "Just wait. Maybe you'll get one for your birthday."

Me: "But I really want one today."

Him: "You haven't wanted a massage for months, and suddenly the day before your birthday, you want a massage? Please wait."

Me: "Fine."

So, I hung up the phone and drove to the spa anyway. What hubby doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

As I'm undressing in the room, my phone rings. It's Hubby. I answer.

"You're there, aren't you?" he accuses.

"No," I say, a little muffled because I'm pulling my shirt off. "Paranoid much?"

Sam: "I'm on the phone with the front desk at the spa right now. They called to let me know you'd come in one day early, and did I want to just switch your birthday massage to today."

me: "Oh."

Sam: "So, happy freakin' birthday."

me: "What a great surprise. Thank you."

(This is totally what I look like when I get a massage. Brunette.)

3. During the massage, I fell asleep while I was on my stomach. There's nothing worse than feeling like you're wasting a good massage by sleeping.

Then I had one of those dreams where I'm falling off a cliff, and suddenly I jerked awake.

Masseuse: "Uh, are you okay?"

Me (not wanting to admit I fell asleep): "I'm fine. It's just that my nose is running... and ... dripping onto the floor."

Yeah, because that's so much less embarrassing than falling asleep.

So, any fun plans for this weekend? I think my Hubby is going to surprise me with a dinner at Melting Pot tomorrow night. I might go by myself tonight, one night early, just to mess with him.