EVERY DAY I WRITE THE BOOK

Whew, doggie! It’s done, friends. Suite Scarlett is currently with Emma. It will be coming back to me in a few days for some final edits.

“So, what are you doing now, Johnson?” you ask saucily. (In my mind—a lot of things happen in my mind.)

Well, I’ll tell you.

The very first thing I had to do was take my beloved computer, Gilda, to get repaired. She has technically been broken since I accidentally stepped on her at the Westeralestier Compound in April. I simply do not know my own strength. One little toe landed on her, and I managed to just slightly bend the opening of the disk drive. So she is getting an entire new outside shell.

The computer I am working on today is former Gilda, and former Gilda is very cranky from being wiped clean and left unused for nine months. She has responded by eating my e-mail, crashing, and refusing to run Scrivener. Also, I think her battery is dead. Otherwise, she is fine.

So I moseyed on over to Tekserve, which is a kind of mecca in New York for Mac users, where a very nice guy took Gilda from me. I am not ashamed to admit that I stroked her before she went back.

“Okay,” you say. “So you got your computer fixed. But what are you WORKING on?”

You have foxed it out of me! I will tell you.

LET IT SNOW

I may or may not have mentioned this before . . . (Apparently, I tell people the same things over and over—like John Green was saying the other day, when I asked him for what had to have been the fifty-seventh time if he had ever seen Dead Like Me, and he said, “You ask me that ALL THE TIME.”)

Anyway . . . I may or may not have mentioned that I am working on a book with John Green and Lauren Myracle. I know what you are thinking. You are wondering how I got mixed up with two classy people like that. (Well, one classy person. John Green has appeared on camera drinking a blenderized happy meal, so he is really fooling no one.)

How? I hardly know myself. I only know that it happened, and we are writing a book called Let It Snow, which will be out late next year.

“Finally,” you say, twirling a cigarette holder between your dexterous fingers (again, in my mind). “You seem to have some actual news. Can you tell us more?”

Oh, fine. Force it out of me, why don’t you? You know I can’t resist when you ask!

Let It Snow is (and by is I mean will be) a collection of three interconnected stories that take place over the course of one Christmas snowstorm in the same town . . . kind of like a YA Pulp Fiction, with less murder and more hijinx. So, I’ve been busy with John and Lauren building and populating our town.

“I like it,” you say, setting the cigarette holder in your alabaster ashtray and sitting down at the piano to play a little song. (In my mind, you not only smoke in an exceedingly pretentious way, but you are musically inclined. I can’t help it. It is just the way you are.) “Do you have anything else to mention, book-wise?”

It’s so weird how you do that! You totally know what’s going on in my head.

There is a lot of Scarlett-related activity, the majority of which I can’t talk about until it’s all finalized . . . but I am looking at the cover right now and talking with Emma a lot, basically doing all the cool stuff you get to do when the book is actually done and is being prepared. It is no exaggeration when I say that I am more excited for Scarlett than I have ever been for a book. Now that the story is essentially done, I can finally give you a little synopsis of what it’s about!

SUPER SUITE SCARLETT SECRETS!

Suite Scarlett is the first book in my very first series. Yes! SERIES!

The story centers around fifteen year-old Scarlett Martin, the middle sibling in a large family. Her nineteen year-old brother (and best friend) Spencer is an out of work actor who charms the ladies by convincingly doing pratfalls down entire flights of stairs. Eighteen year-old Lola has the delicate looks of a model, the practical nature of a nurse, and a wealthy boyfriend from the ranks of society. Eleven year-old Marlene is the family terror with a tragic past.

The Martins live in the family-owned Hopewell Hotel on New York’s Upper East Side. Back when it was first opened in 1929, it was an Art Deco gem, crafted by a design genius. Now, it’s a money pit with non-functional toilets, constantly on the verge of an invasion by the pigeon army that roosts in the attic. Though people often assume they are wealthy, the Martins are broke. Unlike her friends, Scarlett cannot afford to escape the city for the summer to go to learn French in Paris or teach tennis camp. She’s stuck working at home, trying to help Spencer fulfill a family pledge to get an acting job. He has just four days left to do this, or he will have to go to culinary school.

When a former Broadway diva named Mrs. Amberson moves in for the summer, everything changes. Mrs. Amberson soon assumes control of Scarlett’s life. What follows is a whirlwind of thievery, Broadway glamour, theatrical deception, and an impossible romance with the most beautiful guy that Scarlett has ever seen—a guy who is, quite literally, smoking hot.

But life with Mrs. Amberson is not easy, and it takes everything Scarlett has to keep a handle on her love life, Spencer’s career, her relationship with her family, and the fate of the hotel itself.

Also, you get to see Hamlet performed with unicycles.

Now you can see why it took me so long. That’s a lot to get in one book. And now that the first one is done, two is already in the pipeline! Suite Scarlett will be coming out in May, which seems so, so far . . . but it will happen sooner than you, or I, think.

“That is a long time,” you say, as you finish your song and reach for your drink (which is in a coconut shell and has at least nine little paper umbrellas—what is with you?). “Do you have anything else coming out before that?”

Um, actually yes. Two things.

First, in December, you will be able to get “The World of the Golden Compass,” which is a book of essays that will be released concurrent with the film. I’m in it, and it was edited by Scott Westerfeld, so . . . there’s that.

Also, in January, there will be a new edition of The Key to the Golden Firebird, with this shiny new cover:



This cover is in keeping with my other covers, all of which illustrate my love of fantastic abs. That's mainly what I write about. Great abs. The rest is window dressing.

(Also, I love the new pinkness. That is the exact shade of pink I want for my stun gun! It's FATE!)

Okay . . . on a purely non-book related note. There is something else I’ve done in the last few days. Yesterday, my friend Peggy came up from Philadelphia, and we went to a taping of the Daily Show.

I was an unabashed fan of Jon Stewart before . . . but now, my respect has climbed to new heights. I’ve seen some shows taped before, and quite a number of them were disappointing—fussing, flubbing, hair-fixing. (I saw one in which the host took out a mirror and fixed his hair every five minutes. Really.)

Jon Stewart did none of this. Before the taping, he talks to the audience, and is exactly as funny and personable as he is on the show. Then he sat down and did the show in ONE TAKE. He didn’t mess up a single line.

The guest yesterday was kind of unusual . . . it was the President of Bolivia. Jon explained in advance that he was going to be working with a translator for the first time, and that it might be “even more awkward than usual,” since all his jokes had to be translated on the fly. There was nothing awkward about it. He conducted a riveting interview, during which we were all hushed.

After that, through an incredibly random set of circumstances . . . I met the Superman who gave me a knowing nod of fellow-Justice-League-ness at Dragoncon! He even knew that other Wonder Woman, the one with the costume . . . with the butt. That one.

The world is officially much too small.

In any case, to make up for my long pauses and quietness, I will be posting again very soon, and am taking an open call for questions. Put a question in the comments, and I will answer it honestly. (As I can without incriminating myself or others.) (And not that I ever lie to you.)

Go on! I DARE you!