The Dreaded Author Pic: aka Why I was up all Night. aka Anyone want to stand in for me?

Yo, y'all.

Today I'm getting the thing that every author dreads and fears:

No, not leprosy. I'm getting the author picture. You know, the one that will go on the back cover of the book, to be immortalized in print forever.

Okay, maybe not every author feels like I do, but darn if I wasn't up all night last night stressing about it. (Which did wonders for my skin this morning, and not in the good way). 

I have friends who have totally awesome author pics:

Bree "I can even make a brick wall look good" Despain

Emily "What picture? I was just looking at something over there, and smiling thoughtfully" Wing Smith

Then there's me.

This picture was in the Salt Lake Tribune over the weekend, with the caption "Fans of Utah young adult author Ally Condie". 

I had no idea how front-and-center I would appear. Check out the poor little girl to my left, who's trying to peek around the enormous planet dressed in black. 

It looks more like the caption should read: "Ally's number one giant fan, who might follow her home and leave dead roses by her front door. She's comin' to getcha, Ally. And she's leading the charge of hundreds more just like her! Only, smaller. Rarrrrr!"

To be fair, when the girl told everyone she was taking the picture, I puffed up like a blow fish. That's how I pose. 

Cheese.

I also took another picture recently. I won't show it to you, but I will tell you that if it had a caption, it would read "Boobs McGee, and her giant purse. Be amazed at how they dwarf everyone around them!"

Emily Wing Smith says I look exactly the same in every picture ever taken of me. I don't know what she's talking about...

Okay, maybe I do. But this is because I have spent my life practicing how to smile so I don't look like this:

 

Brodi Ashton. Her cheeks arrive 15 minutes before she does.

Anywho, there's a chance I'm overthinking the whole thing. Really, I just want to get it over with. Anyone have any advice? Anyone know how to apply blush so that my chest looks flatter?

Maybe I'll just go with the caption: "Objects in picture are smaller than they appear. I promise."

What would the captions of your own pictures read?

My Christmas Break Report: I edited, I swore, and I looked like a Dork

Hey y'all! It's great to be back. I missed you. (Yes, you!)

Things I accomplished over the Christmas break:

1. I edited the boogers out of my manuscript.

It's true. There are no more boogers in it. Now, when it breaths through its nose, there are no more whistling sounds.

2. I only cut myself six times while opening the kids' stupid toys in their stupid packaging. And then I only swore seven times. (An extra one for good measure).

3. I hosted a birthday party for Kid C and about 11 other 8-year-olds at a swimming pool. Because a party isn't a party unless you're risking a life. 

We only like to swim when it's -2 degrees outside.  

(Kid C's birthday party with my husband's family)

Kid C's birthday party with my family. Not quite as big in numbers.

Kid B pointedly NOT swimming

4. Despite having two children who are in their thirties, my mom can still manage to dress us like we're twelve.

Here's us, modeling the presents my mom bought us. 

Yep. Your eyes do not deceive you. She bought us matching hats and scarves, that in turn matched the dog.

5. You wouldn't think someone could pull off looking cool and digging for spare change from the money jar. But Kid C can.

I'm not desperate. I was just sitting here, in my preppy vest, and my hand happened to fall into the money jar. And if I come up with a fistful of coins, I'll just shrug. Whatevs.

 

6. Kid C and Niece N had a sing-off to the tune of "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas". Nobody died in battle, but some blood was shed. Mostly by the audience, who tried to slit their wrists with wrapping paper.

Battle formations... check.

7. We wore the kids out sledding.

Kid C and Kid B, in a dress rehearsal for the cold weather.

This is no dress rehearsal. It's 2 degrees outside.

Raise a glass... to child labor!

8. The results of number 7:

 Pictures like this stop me from sending Kid B back up the chimney to search for his "real" dad- the fat guy in the red suit.

9. And finally, the ninth thing I accomplished over the holidays...

I made the yuletide gay.

At first, he wanted nothing to do with it, but by the end, he relented.

How was all y'all's holidays?

My Year in Review: Publishing Highs and Lows, and How Much I owe to the Booby Jar

2010 in Review and by the numbers

Number of separate hits on my blog: 23,928

From: 120 Countries

Most hits: USA

Most surprising hits: Yemen (?)

(My goal to target Yemeni readers: check!)

Strangest search entries that actually led to serious time on my blog:

"Brodi Ashton Walmart Marshmallow Peeps"

"Brodi Ashton Booby Jar"

"Jacob's Abs"

"Bodyguards in Pakistan"

"Naked Mondays"

"Saggy Bladder"

Some of these make total sense. I did spend a fair amount of time blogging about Jacob's abs. (Specifically the left one, third from the top. It was beautiful.)

And I did blog once about a saggy bladder. And Naked Mondays. And I blogged extensively about my bodyguard in Pakistan.

Okay, sadly each of these makes sense. 

Number of times I posted on a Tuesday: 1 (Today!)

Publishing highs:

Signing with my new agent. (Hi Michael!)

(Michael "You Could Sell his Smile on the Internet for Money" Bourret and me)

Selling my book. (Hi Kristin!)

Number of Book Launches I attended: a plethora

Authors at those book launches:

Bree Despain (The Lost Saint- party tonight!)

Ally Condie (Matched)

James Dashner (The Scorch Trials)

Matt Kirby (The Clockwork Three)

Kiersten White (Paranormalcy)

Sarah Williams (Palace Beautiful)

Kami Garcia and Margie Stohl (Beautiful Darkness)

Number of quarters I owe to the booby jar (as a penalty for using the word "booby"): 486

Number of posts about my secret lover Rafa: 10

He's not impressed.

Number of conferences I attended:3

(Emily, Bree, Brodi and Sydney Salter at the SCBWI conference in L.A.)

Number of times I danced the Love Shack with M.T. Anderson: once (I'm sure he'll be blogging about it too, in his own "year in review")

Number of rejections I received throughout the year: 486 (at least, it felt like that)

Number of times I thought getting published was just a pipe dream: loads

Number of times I wondered what, exactly, is a pipe dream: once (like right now. What does that mean? anyone? Does it mean my dream was stuck in a pipe, right next to a hairball?)

Number of days my book was on submission to editors before we got an offer: 2 

Number of times I was pretending to take notes in church, when really I was writing my book: 52.  (There are 52 Sundays in a year, right?)

Number of Thursdays spent writing at Borders with Bree Despain and Emily Wing Smith: 40

Number of times in any given day Sam and I just look at each other and say, "I can't believe the book is going to be an actual book.": at least 3

Number of times in any given day I declare my undying love for my agent: at least 3

Number of times Sam rolls his eyes at me: countless

Number of times I'm grateful for blog readers who've stuck with me for another year: let me count the ways.

I'm taking the rest of the week off. See you next year!!

A Christmas Poem... a.k.a. Rhyming is, like, really really hard

Twas the day before Christmas,

and all through the night,

Sam asked me what I wanted

to make my holidays bright

I wandered aimlessly,

all around the house

I wasn't watching where I was going

and I stepped on a mouse

I looked at the dead mouse carcass

with a happy, content face,

As I started counting my blessings.

To ask for anything else would seem out of place.

I have:

An agent who negotiates

like the lost son of Hoffa

Then turns around and cheers with me

For Andy Roddick and my main squeeze Rafa

An editor who helps me

dot the i's and cross the t's

And when I'm going in circles, 

she talks me down from the trees

A husband who works a job

then at home pulls double duty

when it comes to our kids

who like to run down the street nudie

Two sons who constantly

keep me in stitches

and still need their mommy

when they fall down on their britches

A dad who's still with me,

Despite the knock at death's door

Cuz when cancer came calling,

He karate-chopped it in the groin

Sorry the above

didn't hold a rhyme

Cancer doesn't deserve it

Because cancer is stupid

A family who supports me,

always showing that they care,

Even offering gentile reminders,

Like: Isn't it time I actually do my hair?

Good friends who understand

the madness of a writer, 

and through their love and wisdom,

make any burden seem lighter

A critique group who's not afraid

to point out my manuscript's weak spot,

then work with me for hours,

in fleshing out my bleak plot

Blog readers who happily check in

Three times every week

and forgive me when I expose

My inner Battlestar Galactica geek

Here's to a new year filled with revisions,

and hopefully the design of a book cover,

and maybe if Sam's lucky,

I'll even take on a lover.

So, on this Christmas Eve

I hope you hear my call

Merry Christmas to you,

Peace on Earth one and all.

My Thoughts after Pressing Send on my Revisions

A list inspired by finally turning in my revisions:

1. Sometimes I can't get my characters to shut up! It's wonderful!

2. Sometimes my characters give me the silent treatment, even though they know I'm facing a deadline.

3. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is break my manuscript up into chapters.

4. Sometimes the only thing harder is numbering those chapters in the correct sequential order.

5. Sometimes my characters do things they know are out of character.

6. Sometimes, because of #5, I talk myself in circles.

7. Sometimes, after the twentieth reading, my book bores me.

8. Sometimes, after a break, there will be one little chapter that I think won't put people to sleep.

9. Sometimes, even after I turn in the revision, I spend the next few hours kicking myself.

10. Sometimes, because of #9, even the most patient husband gets a little... peeved.

11. Sometimes, I still have to pinch myself to believe my book is actually going to be a book.

12. Sometimes, I want to pinch the people around me. For no reason.

13. Always, I'm grateful for blog readers who put up with my lists!

So, what's on your list today?

How this round of Revisions is like Slaying Newborn Bunnies... and not in the good way

You ever have one of those so-desperate-you-scrape-the-bottom-of-the-deoderant-stick-and-apply-the-crumbs-with-your-fingers-cuz-you-know-you'll-never-make-it-to-the-store-and-now-your-fingers-are-sweat-resistant-all-over-your-keyboard?

Yeah, I'm having one of those days too. 

First off, my revisions are due in two days (48 hours) and I hit a snag this morning. I don't want to spoil anything, so I'll use an example that will illustrate what I did.

(Btw, if your name is Kristin, and you're my editor, and you're reading my blog, disregard the above statement. Everything is fine. I'm embellishing the facts for the entertainment purposes of the blog. Nothing to see here. Don't you have something else to do? Hey! What's that over there?! Behind you!)

Okay, so imagine if my editor sent me a revision note saying:

"Hey! I think you should have some more scenes where your character drives a car!"

And so, I add a bunch of scenes toward the beginning of the book where my character drives a car. My editor was right. Brilliant suggestion.

But, then I'm reading through what I think will be the final version, and I reach the halfway point, to chapter 23, in which my character learns how to drive a car for the first time. And she's marvelling in the fact that she's never been able to drive a car before.

And I thought about all those scenes in chapters 6, 8, 12, 15, 22, where I had her driving a car, as if it was a totally normal thing to do. But apparently, she didn't have the ability to drive said car until chapter 23. 

Ack!! How stupid am I? (Don't answer that!) How did I forget that my character couldn't drive a car, and there was this pivotal scene where she finally is able to drive? 

That's like thinking your character is a boy, and then suddenly, halfway through the book, he looks down at his chest and exclaims, "I love this new bra!"

How could I not remember? 

For those writers out there, I know you'll understand it when I say adding a scene is an intricate process. Little details affect other little details, which then fall madly in love with other details, and those details make babies, and suddenly your book is littered with a million newborn bunnies you hadn't planned for.

Now, I have to go back and slay every little single bunny, so to speak. 

Okay, thanks for listening. And talking me down. I can do this. 

(Again, Kristin, the above is total fiction. It happened... to my... friend. It would suck to be her, wouldn't it?)

So, this ever happened to any of you?

Do you Speak Pirate? Yes? Now my Book will be Available in Pirate!

Howdy, yo. 

First off, thank you to everyone who tuned in to our authors conference call last night! A special shout out to F.O.B. (Friend of the Blog) Robin, whose MC-ing skills were unmatched (we're still looking for that elusive match). 

Another special shoutout to F.O.B. Kristin, who had the guts to raise her hand (metaphorically) and ask a question. It made me so happy!

If you have an hour or more to kill, you can listen to the conference here: (maybe, if I figure out how to work the doohickee, and finagle it up to the tech-a-ma-gadget). 

Second:

An update on the international front...

My book has sold in the U.K./Australia and Brazil! Every time I try to imitate a British or Aussie accent, it ends up coming out like a pirate. (Sam's no better. His comes out "German-with-a-lisp")

I'm so excited, especially because the publishers have such enthusiasm for the books, and they bought the entire trilogy. 

Some of you may ask, "What-the-what is an American English to British translation like? Why translate at all?"

Mostly, it just means every time I say the following sentence:

They made out in the trunk of the car

The Brits change it to:

They snogged in the boot.

Surprisingly, my book as 864 incidents where the characters snog in the boot, so it will be a lot of work. 

There are also quite a few words that are relatively harmless in the U.S., but mean something quite cheeky for the Brits. I'd name them here, but I don't want to offend any Brits reading this. 

So, Tally-ho, Sally forth, grab a pint and mind the gap! (Which, loosely translated, means "Come celebrate with me, and try not to fall in a hole!)

What are your favorite British words?