Hello, friends! I’m back in New York, having said goodbye to Oscar, cat friend, screaming old lady, J.K. Rowling, and all of my companions in the UK, and am back in the heaving steam bath that I like to call home.
By now, many of you will have seen this video, which was created for my friend John Green’s birthday. There are a lot of things to explain about that video. Like the clothes. (I wasn’t super-clear on the wardrobe issue.) Or how it even came about. (Sitting around with Scott and Justine, an e-mail, some drinks, a small buffet at Libba’s house, moving furniture, me injuring my knee, and what will almost certainly be a lifelong aversion to Mamma Mia. It’s a whole saga. Another blog, perhaps? Do you guys want the story? Respond in the comments if you do.)
I’m glad to see that many of you could relate to my feelings on revision. Even Meg Cabot chimed in! That gives me hope, because in my mind, Meg can do anything. Even fly.
The storyboard I had created on the London Office wall, the one that looked so neat and lovely there, was carefully removed and transplanted to the New York Office wall. It is not as neat here, as the wall space allotted to it is a bit on the smaller side. But now I have to pack it up again, just as soon as I got it up!
Yes—it’s Dragontrain time! Right around this time tomorrow, Scott Westerfeld, Justine Larbalestier, Holly Black, Cassie Clare, and I will all be on a full-service sleeper train, barreling down south to Atlanta.
As you may (or may not) remember, this whole thing started when we were all sitting around in Scott and Justine’s apartment at the wee small hours of the morning. (See, basically all my harebrained schemes start in that exact position.) They were talking about how much fun conventions are, and then someone said that we should all do one together, and then someone else said wouldn’t it be fun if we all took a train down instead of a plane? We all agreed that that sounded classy and civilized, unlike planes which are generally horrible and oppressive.
And then I said, “If you actually set this up, I will go in a Princess Leia/Wonder Woman outfit” because I doubted that it would happen.
Which brings us up to now.
I never welsh on a bet, friends. I have just picked up my Wonder Woman boots. I have to say, they are pretty spectacular. I have a sneaking suspicion that the company that made them specializes in stripper wear, but I have no particular problem with this. They have done a top-notch job on these boots. Hera herself would admire them!
(I will not say whether or not I am already wearing my new Wonder Woman boots. That is totally irrelevant. Let us move on.)
We are also about to test the theory that traveling 18 hours on a train is actually better than traveling 1 ½ hours on a plane.
Maybe I should clarify something, as some of you are visiting from outside the United States . . . trains are not really one of our strong points here. We do have trains. We even have a few very nice trains. But we generally don’t use trains very much in terms of longer trips, largely because it seems insane. This is a big country. It takes a long time to travel around it. I’m coming to grips with the fact that we have chosen a method of travel that will literally take 12 times as long as an airplane.
So why have we done this? What made it sound like such a good idea, round about 2 AM all those months ago? Here are the reasons, as I remember them.
1. Trains are generally fun
I really like trains, personally. I especially like trains in the UK, which seem about a million times nicer than our trains—and by “our trains,” I mean our smaller commuter lines, which generally look like castoff pieces of the trans-Siberia line, circa 1977. I have had some excellent rides on trains in the UK, like my fantastic ride from London to Scotland when I went to live in the castle for a month to write 13 Little Blue Envelopes.
(I am invariably thinking this thought, sitting there in my nice little seat, looking at the passing sheep, thinking how wonderful England is . . . and someone will throw up in the vestibule. But even this doesn’t seem that bad—and granted it is always on the midnight train back from central London. Somehow, it’s not as bad when English people barf in public. I think it may be because, unlike here (where it seems more likely that you have Rage Virus and are about to turn into a zombie), that’s just the English way of saying “We have been drinking tonight!” It’s almost kind of friendly, like you’re being invited to join the experience!)
2. Trains seem glamorous
I mean, come on! A group of writers going on tour together by taking a long, cross-country (well, it’s not cross-country, it’s just, well, south-bound, but it’s still pretty far) trip together. And there’s a dining car and a porter, and we can write, and Cassie and I are sharing a little room and we can tell each other ghost stories!
View of my expectations.
3. Unlimited luggage!
We are already planning on loading down this train something fierce. I really need to step up and start packing like I mean business. None of this “weighing your bag” or having to shove everything you are taking with you to your seat into one small piece of luggage the size of a microbe. I am bringing all my stuff. I may even bring some of your stuff. I am living the dream of travel tip number #2—because I can, can, can!
4. Excellent company
This does not come with the train. This just happens to be excellent company!
5. A chance to see the country
I wonder how many Wal-Marts I will see from the train window?
6. A chance to work without distraction
No wi-fi on the train! Nothing but me, some good writer friends, and the track rolling in front of us.
Pretty good reasons, right?
We will see how it all pans out . . .
Another view of my expectations.
In any case, I have promised videos, and they will be here. But they will not feature Mamma Mia. Anyway, I have to go practice my Wonder Woman spinning in these new boots . . . .
I mean revise. And pack.
(Oh, and I guess I should tell you when I am actually speaking. I will post my conference schedule here later! Watch this space!)
Friends! Your responses to my last post about book banning have been fantastic and insightful. Many of you even have plans of attack to help stop book banning in your communities. It’s amazing!
There are some other things to tell you about. First . . . Devilish is now out in paperback! Right now! And it's even more . . . goldenrod! Yes, the cover has been revamped a little. It now looks like this:
Available now!
Now, on to today's topic . . . I get a lot of e-mails asking for writing advice. I like to give this out on occasion, and now is as good a time as any.
Right now, I am revising Suite Scarlett. It seems like everyone I know is going through some kind of revision from hell right now. It must be revision season. So let’s have a look.
Here is the Writer. The Writer has finished the first (or second, or third) draft of his book. He’s feeling good. Clever. After all, he finished a book—and that counts for something. He has sent the book off to his Editor, and is now enjoying a little breakfast.
There is a certainly smugness that comes from finishing a draft.
The reason the Writer is so happy and smug while the draft is away with the Editor is because he no longer has to look at it. Naturally, though, he knows it will come back. He isn’t finished. He will have to revise.
WHAT IS REVISION?
Maybe this seems obvious—but then again, maybe not!
When I was in college, I was a staff member at the writing center. A dozen or so students, from freshman to graduate level, were assigned to me. All of them were having trouble writing and revising their papers.
And so they came. A third of them were shattered and fearful, convinced they would never be able to finish writing a paper. Another third were surly and looked like they wanted to punch me in the face simply for being alive. The final third fully expected that I would rewrite their papers for them.
Some people who had been told to revise their paper actually heard this: “You suck. Unfortunately, there are no beds open right now in the Home for the Extremely Stupid, so we will send you to the writing center instead, with the hopes that you fall into a big hole on the way over there.”
Other people felt that the professor was in the wrong—that the papers made perfect sense. They took every edit or mark as a deep personal insult. “But this is a personal essay/my story/my opinion,” they would yell/cry at me. “It can’t be wrong!”
Quite a number of people would nod away as I spoke, promising to bring back revisions. A few days later they would return with papers that were virtually identical to the ones I had just seen, with a handful of words swapped around and a few spelling errors fixed.
The angry people still looked like they wanted to punch me.
Two things finally occurred to me:
1. I wasn’t being paid nearly enough for this job. (One day, when I saw my boss floating through the library with that look on his face that said, “I am going to find Maureen and give her more students,” I hid inside a bunch of automated shelves and hit the switch, closing them in around myself. Such was my morale.)
2. People have widely varying ideas about what the word revision means.
I made my escape from the writing center with a shattered view of the meaning of revision.
There’s an adage that “writing is revision,” and I think it’s true. It marks the difference between merely writing something down and really writing something. I can’t take two very quick steps and say I was running. I have to make lots of quick steps in order to call it “running” and not just “quickly changing position.”
It’s sort of the same with writing. Books aren’t written once—they’re written five, a dozen, twenty, fifty times.
“How many times do you have to revise?” you ask. “What’s the right number?”
Who knows? There is no right amount of revision. In fact, you might say (if you are the kind of annoying person who says stuff like this) that books are never finished. When you see them in a shop or library, they are nicely bound between two hard covers and seem stable. But books are actually heaving, organic, ever-evolving messes that have more or less been beaten and tamed into a kind of submission and shoved into a document. Even classic books written by long-dead authors are often edited and tweaked or even rearranged a bit by editors. Shakespeare is a total mess, as multiple versions of the plays exist.
There is always a way to change things around. Herein lies the problem if you do this for a living.
REVISION AND THE PROFESSIONAL WRITER
Let’s get back to the Writer. He has been patiently waiting. He is finished his breakfast now. Let’s talk about what revision means to him.
Revision is part of his job, and he likes his job. He really does. But in order to do it, he needs his Editor.
The best editors are artists—make no mistake. They need to understand stories inside and out. They look at the shape and flow of the events, the way the characters respond, the style of the writing. (Certainly one of the most famous in literary history is Maxwell Perkins, who is repsonsible for bringing us an extrodinary amount of modern American literary classics.)
Editors are also psychologists. They have to tell the Writer all of their thoughts in a clever way that moves the Writer gently in the correct direction. They write up their views in something called an edit letter. (Or ed letter or editorial letter—whatever you prefer. It’s a letter.)
The Writer waits to hear what the Editor will have to say.
The edit letter usually begins with something like: “Dear Writer, Another job well done! This book is really shaping up nicely! I like you a lot!”
The Editor may very well mean these things, but she generally says them to keep the Writer from freaking out and taking an overdose of Scrabble tiles. This is the psychological part of their job. They have to make sure the Writer stays sane and finishes the book.
This particular Writer ignores all those bits and goes right to the part that describes what needs to be done. The Writer already has his own ideas, and maybe the ideas of some friends.
Editors never (or rarely, or shouldn’t) say: “You did this wrong. Failure, Writer! Failure!” They usually talk in terms of what’s working well and what could be done to strengthen what’s there. They will often suggest cuts or places to move material. Editors do not make you do things. They do not sneak into your house and change passages of writing while you sleep. They do not threaten to break your arms (usually). They coax.
Sometimes the edit letter expresses exactly what the Writer is already thinking. Or there may be major curve balls—things the Writer thought worked but the Editor doesn’t really understand or like. There may even also be parts the Writer hated and was planning to destroy—and yet the Editor seems to love them. This is often even more baffling.
Some writers like to have a lot of other people read their books as well. They like the chorus of voices and opinions. That’s a good approach.
However, it’s not an approach I like. The only notes I usually take are from my editor. I could show my stuff around to lots of great people, but then I would go half-insane trying to coordinate all the different notes in my head. For me, one voice is best.
Some people like having this many people looking at once, but I do not.
THE PROCESS
Generally, revisions should go big (global plot points, POV, chapter structure) to small (minor details). Think of it this way: if you were designing a house, you would have to figure out where the kitchen was going to go. Then you think about how everything will fit inside the kitchen—where does the stove go, or the sink? It’s a long time before you ever think about setting the table or sticking up hilarious fridge magnets—largely because you may not yet a table or fridge or maybe even a floor.
So it goes with your story. You need to know what happens in it. What’s the order of events? Who tells the story? These are the kinds of things decided in the first drafts. As time marches on, they’re supposed to remain more or less solid.
In theory. It doesn’t always work in practice.
It’s a good thing that the Writer doesn’t design houses—because he would move the kitchen around seventeen times, rip out all the bathrooms, add six more stories, and set fire to the roof.
Sometimes, in order to save the book, you must destroy it during revision. At least if you are me. I’m certainly not alone. Massive, last-minute rewrites are a well-known phenomenon. You can even read blogs about it! Witness the story of Scott Westerfeld getting 16,000 words into Extras, only to realize that he was writing from the wrong point of view—and then simply chopping those 16,000 words and starting again. Or Justine Larbalestier ripping out entire chapters of her new book.
Sometimes, this is the only way.
I tend to hack the book into all of its component pieces, spread them out, and then systemically (don’t ask me what kind of system that matically refers to) rearrange them and delete them. From there, I reshape the story and write it again.
Here, as an example, is what Suite Scarlett looks like right now.
I can write a rainbow.
Those are the different story events, color-coded by type, arranged into working sections. It is very pretty. I enjoy looking at it. It is behind my head right now as I type this, and it reassures me.
I started doing this because, somewhere around the third draft of 13 Little Blue Envelopes, I tore off the entire first third of the book and changed a major portion of the plot. From then on, I needed to see everything at a glance and track all the big movements. But I write every book differently. I'm really glad I'm not alone in this. Here's the frighteningly wonderful Holly Black talking about how she reinvents her style with each book.
This is one of the exciting things about writing. Everyone does it differently. Maybe the Writer's adventures will be helpful to you, maybe not. My only real, hard piece of advice about the writing process is this: if anyone tells you that there is just one method or a correct way of getting it done (few people would, but there's always someone), they're wrong. If you want to revise your book completely backwards, while hanging upside down covered in bees . . . feel free. Choose your teachers carefully. In the end, you'll teach yourself anyway.
THE END OF REVISION
There comes a point where either a.) the Writer decides the book is as done as it is ever going to be, or b.) it’s just due. Most people I know, including our Writer, use b. as their stopping point. At this point, the books move on to finer levels of editing—line by line and word by word. The Writer still may try to delete or sneak in a new chapter. Sometimes this is permitted, and sometimes the editor must intervene.
The only person I have ever known of to beat the revision process at its own game is the fantastic Jasper Fforde. If you go to his amazing website, you will see that he offers book upgrades—much like computer software gets updated. You just go to the site, book and pencil in hand, and make the changes he lists. And presto! Updated, never-ending book!
Frankly, the thought of that makes me a little dizzy. I may have to go rest my head.
I hope this has helped. If you have any thoughts/tips/advice on revision, the comments are open!
Several of you have been asking about Bartlesville and the banning, requesting an update. You ask—and I answer!
It starts with a confession, which is this: I started to get a bit down about Bartlesville. I got many notes of support. (Many, many, many . . . and thank you to everyone who wrote one.) But I also got a few notes—some very long ones—that said, “What right do you have to meddle in the affairs of Oklahoma?” This seemed to imply that Oklahoma was some strange, distant land that I couldn’t possibly understand—a land that makes its own rules.
I felt like I was coming to a point where had just had it. Why was I even bothering with this? Why did I care about three or four copies of a book in a town I’d never been to? I’d given a donation to the library and sent more to the school. What more could I do?
“Do what you want,” I grumbled for a day or two. “Ban everything in sight. What could go wrong?”
I told my friends that I was sick to death of it. I buckled down on my revisions and all the reading I had to catch up on. I ripped out pictures of my dream Vespa and stun gun and put them on my wall for motivation. I tried to figure out if Free Monkey was really an ape. I kicked a can across the street for no reason.
I was, as you can tell, grouchy.
And then, the very next morning, I got an e-mail from a Bartlesville resident who was disgusted by the banning about an article that had just appeared in the paper. She was sick by what was happening in her town and asked me to post it.
Once I read the article, I was back on track. It was a shot in the arm.
If you don’t have the time or inclination to read the whole thing, here are what I consider to be the important bits. These are quotes from Angela Rader, the parent who made the initial complaint (you know, that the book that had no sex in it was a “sexual free-for-all” and that all the copies should be replaced with Bibles):
“I am so ecstatic that the parents have control over what goes into their children’s eyes,” Rader says.
[Me: “Into their children’s eyes”? Like mud? Like a stick? Like a white-hot poker? I know . . . I’m just being difficult.]
“I’m proud of the superintendent and the committee. I’m glad that I accomplished what I set out to do.”
Rader says there may be other books that need to be reviewed.
“For them to create that shelf, they had to know there were books that needed to be on it,” Rader said, adding that she hopes school officials review other books to find any others that may fall under the same category.
“Is she really suggesting some kind of book hunt?” I asked myself. It certainly seems that way.
Because of her success with this book, Rader says she wants to get the Bible back into schools in a history and literature class.
“And I’m working on that because I think it’s important for our kids to know where they came from,” Rader says. “I think the Bible’s a good foundation for our school. I think we’re way far from it and our kids are suffering.”
Actually . . . I have no problem with this. I mean, reading the Bible in terms of literature and history. This is quite sensible. I did it in school. The Bible is referenced in lots of literature, and it’s one of the world’s most famous books.
Speaking as someone who had to read the Bible front to back four times in school, and since the objection here seems to be homosexuality, I can tell you this . . . I didn’t walk away thinking that the story of Sodom and Gomorrah was about homosexuality. I was actually taught—by a religious order—that it was about lack of hospitality in the desert. The Bible helps us out with this one: "Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy." (Ezekiel 16:49)
And the image of righteous Lot offering his daughters up to be raped by strangers isn’t one that will leave you quickly. Whenever people reference that story . . . I tend to think that they actually haven’t read it, or they didn’t quite grasp the implications. So read it! Also, leaning about world religions is a good idea! Read the Bible, read the Koran too! Read about all kinds of religions! A broad religious education can only help us understand the crazy world we live in, and maybe we can actually get to the bottom of our problems, instead of just blowing each other up all the time.
You know what the really sad part is? By mentioning other religions, some people will automatically think I am being sarcastic. The mere idea of reading about other religions is anathema to them.
“Oh, oh dearie me,” as Lily Allen says.
But I’m just delaying the payoff . . . the money quote. She goes on to say:
“Promoting righteousness, like having this book taken from everybody, is a step in the right direction.”
Oh. Wow. This is a fascinating glimpse into the mindset of book banning. This quote needs no deconstruction. It is perfect. It is the Hope Diamond of confused sentiments. There is only one person I can think of who could do better.
Give it your best shot, Flanders!
What’s great about America is that everyone, including Ms. Rader, can express her beliefs. Do you want to translate concepts like this directly into public policy? Apparently, some people do in Bartlesville!
But not all. Certainly not all.
I take up the rest of the article—and it’s all stuff that, if you’ve ever been here before, you’ve already read in some form or other. I do take issue with the fact that Ms. Rader thinks she won. I believe exactly what I said to the reporter . . . that the special shelf was a concession to make everyone shut up, including her. The book is not taken away from everybody. It’s just been put in a corner where you need a special slip to read it. Which is still bonkers. It’s just let’s-be-quasi-nice-to-the-kinda-crazy-lady-so-she-doesn’t-bite-into-our-heads-like-they-are-juicy-peaches local politics. And I still say boo to it. Boo!
Then my friend Libba Bray posted this on her blog. (Note to anyone who thinks I am a handful: do not mess with Libba. I am not kidding. Also, Libba fans who may have come here from there . . . I have read A Sweet, Far Thing, and I will tell you this: IT IS THE BEST BOOK OUT OF THE THREE. Again, no kidding.)
Now, as to what can be done . . .
In looking more into this matter (including speaking to anti-censorship king Chris Crutcher), really, Bartlesville has to fix Bartlesville. But nothing prevents me from talking about it and making the issues known. Or dancing about it, for that matter.
If you live in or around Bartlesville, and if you oppose book banning, here are some people to contact:
The Bartlesville school board are the elected officials in charge of your local schools. Here are a list of their names and e-mail addresses, as well as a list of public meetings, and information on how you can speak at a public meeting. Why not pay them a visit or drop them a line? As local public officials, they’ll want to know what you have to say about this.
If you are a student anywhere in the USA, here is a document from the American Library Association explaining your rights—including your right to read.
And for someone feeling really ambitious and up-in-arms, here is information from the Oklahoma ACLU on how you can try to start a case to get that special shelf taken down, and restore the rights of the students. I can’t start this case . . . but one of you can.
I’ve also been (tentatively) invited to Bartlesville. I’m told that some people don’t want me there. I’m even told that some people might try to block it. To those people: what precisely are you worried about? I am possibly the least threatening person I know, with the possible exception of a few very small children I’ve met.
Come on, guys. Lighten up! Maybe I can even bring some friends! I have great friends!
I give hugs!
What do you guys think of all this? Know anyone in town?
UPDATE:
One commenter wrote:
Anonymous said... I have sent an e-mail to the V.P. of the Bartlesville School Board, saying that I don't believe in censorship. I believe that I made an interesting point: homosexuals were persecuted in the Holocaust right along with Jews and the mentally retarded. Is the next book on the "special shelf" going to be the Diray of Anne Frank?
Thanks to Oklahoma librarian Adri . . . we have an answer.
To the person asking if the Diary of Anne Frank is next -- it already was challenged in Oklahoma in 2006 for "promoting Judaism"
Do you ever feel kind of . . . unspooled? You know . . . slightly less than together because you are moving very quickly?
You may not know what I mean, because I’ve read your comments and e-mails, and you guys seem pretty together.
In fact, I think today I’m just going to pay tribute to YOU, the people who leave comments. The unsung heroes of the blogging world. Besides, I have to tell you which commenter is getting the Random Book!
I’ll do all of that just as soon as I finish rambling about myself. Because right now I feel like I’m about six places at once. I’m supposed to be leaving for the UK to go into seclusion in the London Office to finish Suite Scarlett, but I am far from being packed or prepared. There are a number of factors involved. I’ve been busy working, for a start—on Scarlett, and on some other secret things I can’t talk about just yet. My stuff is pretty much everywhere.
Also, I keep stepping on glass.
See, I had this really nice jug that my friend gave me when she moved. It was a special jug, a really fancy handmade one by some amazing artist. I’ve had this jug for two years, sitting on top of a cabinet in my bedroom. The other night, when I went blundering in around two in the morning to get something out of said cabinet, the jug decided it had had enough of its perch and life in general and it dove to the ground. It shattered into approximately eleventy billion pieces, which was nice both for my downstairs neighbors, and for me.
I have a white shag rug in my bedroom, and despite the hour of vacuuming . . . I can’t get all the glass out of it. I find glass. With my feet. I should just call them my “glassfinders” now.
So I keep stepping on glass (this should not be confused with Libba Bray's glass eye) . . . and I also keep forgetting to buy Band Aids when I’m out, so I keep having to wrap my feet in pieces of surgical gauze. I don’t know why I have surgical gauze. I just do.
Also, I skinned my knee. I can’t tell you how. It’s a secret.
Anyway, let’s look at YOUR COMMENTS.
I don’t know why I keep making up these contests where I have to choose things—because you guys always send and write good stuff, so I sit there for hours chewing on my mousepad, trying to pick a winner. Just look at all these good ones I had to choose from:
Totally off topic but, IKEA HOSTEL! The web adress says it all. WE NEVER HAVE TO LEAVE!
There is NOTHING off topic about IKEA! I love IKEA! That’s why I keep talking about it. The fact that there is an IKEA you can sleep over at is only going to fuel my desire to go on an IKEA world tour. Cranberry mouse! Round beds! IKEA bathrobes! The Holmenskollen ski jump? Why am I not there already?
jaimie said... Next time you see Scott Westerfield(sp)try to make him wear a Yoda costume to the next events.
I saw Scott today and I passed this message along. I don’t know what will come of it, but my part is done. I should mention that we had lunch at GOOGLE! Home of The Internets! My friend Winchester Grey showed us around. They have everything at Google! They have all of these amazing restaurants for free, a game room with an air hockey table, massage chairs in the halls, and scooters you can use to scoot down the long hallways.
Remind me again why I’m not a computer engineer?
Oh right. Because I thought Linux was a Peanuts character. And I never did my math homework in high school. Never. Not once. (Except on the bus or in homeroom.) But! I did develop this great trick to hide this fact! Whenever sister would try to get volunteers to go to the board to show the work they had done the night before, I would immediately volunteer. Very, very assertively.
“But why?” you ask. “If you hadn’t done it?”
Because I would then turn and say, “Suzanne and I will do it, Sister.”
This was not how things were done. It was not a partner exercise. But for whatever reason, maybe boredom, she usually allow it. And I would drag my friend Suzanne up to the board. And she ALWAYS did her homework. The entire trick is to expose yourself! Volunteer first! Don’t try to hide it! Bring a friend who knows the answers!
Every once in a while this would backfire kind of spectacularly and she’d throw me a curve ball and make me go to the board and solve the problem on the fly while everyone else would just copy it out of their notebooks. But I like to think that this improved my ability to think quickly under pressure.
I was rambling again, wasn’t I?
Anyway, about Google . . . the creepy part is that they have all these long memos on debugging and testing code in the stalls of the women’s room. They make you work hard there to get all the free food and the scooters. They even make you work while you pee.
Here is a picture of Free Monkey in the lobby.
GOOGLE THIS MONKEY
tobias said... a quick note: giving something away at random to whoever leaves the best comment is contradictory. If you would give it away at random it wouldn't matter how good the comment is.
Tobias, I know that English isn’t even your first language. You are Dutch. So it is a little extra embarrassing that you should point this out. Please do not mention this to FREE MONKEY when he comes to visit you in The Netherlands on part two of the FREE MONKEY WORLD TOUR.
agustina said... Hello, or hola as we say in my country. First Maureen i gotta tell you I love your blog, it´s just hilarious, and I love you, you´re the projection of who I wanna be in a couple of years,you´re fabulous. Why should I get the free signed copy? Because in my country I can´t get a copy of your book, and buying it over the internet would really set me back, since 1 american dollar is like 4 pesos argentinos...
Hola, Agustina! I am very excited to have a reader in Argentina! I just want to say this . . . when you become me, WATCH OUT FOR THE GLASS.
Perhaps Free Monkey can come and visit you at some point? He has many places to go in the next few weeks, but he has never been to South America before.
So who won?
In the end, I had to pick Jessica, who had this to say:
jessica said... Should it be long and thoughtful? Short and random? To be quite frank, I have no idea, therefore, I will explain my love for Girl at Sea. 1. Aidan. I totally fell in love with him, despite the fact that he was sarcastic and mean. What does that say about my choice in men? That just horrible, isn't it? 2. Jellyfish. I've had a fear of the neasty little things since I was jet-skiing in Galveston, TX and I touched one. Not stung, just touched. And I cried. A lot.
1. It is okay to love Aidan. He has many positive qualities too, you know.
2. OH MY GOD YOU GOT STUNG BY A JELLYFISH! YOU POOR THING! THEY WANT TO KILL US ALL! YOU MUST HAVE A BOOK!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!
Danger!
Jessica, e-mail me your address and a book is on its way!
Now I have to get back to the packing so I can get to the London Office and finish this book. Oscar has told me that the slug problem is just about solved . . . which is not as solved as I would like it to be.
But I also have my friends The Cat From Next Door and Screaming Old Lady to see . . . and who knows? Maybe another visit from J. K. Rowling? Although I kind of hope not. Frankly, she freaked me out a little.
If you had asked me on Monday night, when I first posted the costume poll, I was sure that Tonks was going to win. I started resigning myself to the idea of temporarily dying my hair pink.
The more I read about pink hair dye, the clearer it became to me that the temporary spray would not be good enough. I was going to have to have my hair turned pink professionally, and then I would have it until I changed it back. This, I was pretty much okay with. One of the many perks of being a writer is that you can turn your hair pink, and no one can say a word to you about it. In fact, they kind of expect you to do something like that.
Then, out of nowhere, came the Wonder Woman army . . . and by the power of Hera they put up a fight. It was brutal. It was Tonks, Wonder Woman, Tonks, Wonder Woman . . . And then, rushing out of the sidelines, came the Leia Bikini people.
Here is something I have learned.
Some of you have very strong . . . feelings . . . about the Leia bikini. I only suggested the Leia bikini in the first place because it was the only scifi costume that popped into my mind. I knew it was famous—but I didn’t know how important it was to some of you, and what kind of a role it played in your personal development.
Lesson learned!
It was a passionate battle, very occasionally verging towards the creepy. Good arguments were made on all sides.
Here were the votes when I stopped counting (more have come in since):
Magenta got three and the devil struggled in with one vote, and astonishingly . . . NONE of you voted for Classic Leia.
But the winner, with a total of 46 votes, was WONDER WOMAN!
Yessssss!
I can confess now that I was rooting for Wonder Woman all along—although I think I hinted at that pretty clearly. I had to watch this to get ready:
HOW GREAT IS THAT?
Although, I confess, I remembered the song . . . but not how insane the lyrics are. “In your satin tights/fighting for your rights/and the old red, white, and blue”? Really? “Make a hawk a dove/stop a war with love/make a liar tell the truth”? Or, perhaps my favorite, “Stop a bullet cold/make the axis fold.”
And was there really a guy named Lyle Waggoner in it? How did I miss that before?
I am already practicing my spinning, and I am getting real Wonder Woman boots! This must be done Right. Do you know why? Well, for a start, the Weasley Twins are going to be there! Yes! The ones from the movie!
Ah may faint.
And if you remember by post about TV crushes, you may recall that I had a childhood obsession with William Katt that caused me to develop a condition called William Katt Love Hangover and a terminal attraction to curly hair.
Seriously. Four year-old mj is not going to be able to take this.
The videos of this event—what with the Wonder Woman, William Katt, the Weasleys—and my excellent company (Scott, Justine, Holly, and Cassie) . . . they should be something very, very special.
MORE WINNERS!
If you get my newsletter (and if you don’t—why not sign up now?), you’ll know that I put a challenge out there for the best photo representing Girl At Sea. The prize: signed copies of Girl At Sea and Devilish, in a limited edition Harry Potter bag, swiped from the prime Scholastic stash by my editor, Emma Lollipop. (See, it pays to read the newsletter.)
But a winner had to be chosen. I’m terrible at picking winners, but fortunately . . . FREE MONKEY CAME HOME!
I didn’t tell you guys that he actually got lost for a while. I didn’t want to worry you.
Believe it or not, he vanished after leaving Bartlesville. Ten entire days went by with no word. I feared the worst and was on the verge of making the announcement that he was missing . . . when all of a sudden, a box appeared, and he popped out of it.
Anyway, I showed all the entries to him, and he ended up picking these artistic photos of Girl At Sea, taken by Ally B.
Thank you to all who entered! I have one more of these bags to give away, along with more copies of Girl at Sea. I’ll have to think of another good summer contest. Or maybe I’ll just give one away at random to whoever leaves the best comment.
Yes. I’ll do that. Leave a good comment, and on Sunday, I’ll pick one and send you a book! I don't care what it's about. Just speak your mind! Why not? I’m WONDER WOMAN! I can stop a war with love, and I fight in satin tights!
