So the other day, Lauren Myracle writes to me and says, “I CHALLENGE YOU TO A HALLOWEEN SCARE-A-THON.”
And I was all, “Okay! I’ll do it! Also, what is that?”
Because I will often say I will do things long before I ever have the slightest idea what they are. I find that this keeps things interesting.
So she explained that she is challenging 13 authors (me, Meg Cabot, Scott Westerfeld, Libba Bray, Holly Black, M.T. Anderson, Melissa De La Cruz, Cassie Clare, Shannon Hale, Kirsten Miller, John Green, Sarah Mlynowski, and Stephenie Meyer) to do something that REALLY SCARES US by the Halloween. This thing must be recorded, either in blog or video format, for the world to see.
So I thought I had this one in the bag. Not that it is a competition . . . but I was still SO GOING TO WIN. I was going to win this in the same way that I used to say I was going to WIN several plays I was in by saying all my lines fastest and knocking over the other actors until I achieved VICTORY!
You can see why I thought this, I am sure. If you’ve read this blog ever, even once, you know that the one thing I have covered is fear. I have made a celebration of my many fears. I list them. I cultivate them. I treat them like they are my very own precious children. Asking me to name one fear is like asking me to pluck one beautiful flower from a garden the size of Rhode Island.
But as I started working my way down the list, I realized that this was going to be a lot harder than I first imagined.
JELLYFISH: Jellyfish are pretty much my number one fear, and the one I am sure people would suggest. But it is actually pretty hard to find a jellyfish in New York City. It was suggested that I could find one at the Natural History Museum, but a dead, stuffed jellyfish in a glass case does not alarm me. If anything, it convinces me that we are winning against them.
No, my fear is of the jellyfish in the wild, sneaking up on you, alone or in a gang, while you swim. I could go to the beach, but it is kind of freezing out, and I’ll bet you I don’t even SEE a jellyfish there. I would probably have to go to Australia or something to see a jellyfish, and I am not going to be able to do that by Friday.
AMUSEMENT PARK RIDES: Roller coasters, turny-turny things, spinny things, upside-downy things, ferris wheels . . . I hate ‘em! (With the exception of the tilt-a-whirl, which for some reason, I like. But it must be a genuine tilt-a-whirl.) I am the person who never wants to go to the annual “street fair of death” in my neighborhood, with it its questionable, rickety rides designed to thin out the population, one carnival ticket at a time.
(Oh, they don’t CALL it the “street fair of death.” They call it a fun fair. That’s exactly what they called that festival of bad ideas I went to in the Midwest, where the biggest attraction was a crane manned by two fourteen year old guys—the one that had a cardboard sign that said, “crane rides $5” and when you gave them the $5 they would hoist you up and swing you.)
But all the local amusement parks/street fairs of death are closed, as far as I know. Problem!
WATERSLIDES: My loathing of waterslides is profound. I can think of almost nothing worse then being flung down a dark, twisting tube filled with water until you are expectedly dumped into a larger pool of water. But again, it is cold, and they are closed.
You see what I mean. I kept working my way down the list. Wasps, butterflies that go right for your face, the coming explosion of the sun . . . there was no way I could directly confront these things. In several cases, I found that I had already confronted fears. Like my fear of swimming with/touching tiny, colorful tropical fish. I committed this act of madness in Aruba a few months ago.
Even more annoying . . . I don’t seem to be concerned by many things that scare other people to death. I love to fly. I even enjoy turbulence. I find a ride in a New York taxi cab going ninety miles an hour through heavy traffic and yellow lights healthy and enjoyable. I snoozed through horror movies like The Ring. Clowns are quite nice people. Spiders don’t particularly bother me. Snakes are okay. I downright ADORE zombies. (Why, nothing brings a smile to my face like that scene in Dawn of the Dead where all the zombies are trying to ice skate and use the mall escalators!)
I was starting to seem . . . kind of brave. Which was incredibly distressing. Because I KNOW I HAVE THE MOST FEAR.
I got more and more desperate. I even checked in with the New York Trapeze School, because that is definitely on my “no &#^$ing way” list. But they were all booked! And when I watched the little video, it didn’t even seem THAT scary. Al Roker did it. (I am not saying Al Roker is scared of everything. I’m just saying that things seem much less scary when you have seen Al Roker do them.)
What it essentially boiled down to were three kinds of things:
1. Things that I am afraid of for good reason: running into traffic, falling down elevator shafts, being shot at.
2. Things that I am definitely afraid of, but will not come up: being sent into space, being attacked by the Jonas Brothers, somebody making a sequel to the movie “Rat Race.”
3. Things I’m not so much scared of but just don’t feel like doing: getting a lip piercing, listening to two hours worth of recorded Robocalls, eating a large piece of government cheese, etc.
I was in a total panic, and then I remembered . . . I have you guys. And you guys are smart. You will know a scary thing. I need your help. It needs to be something scary and achievable by FRIDAY.
Your ideas will be featured, discussed, and celebrated . . . so make them good!
Leave your suggestions in the comments. If I use yours, you get a signed book OF YOUR CHOICE, Suite Scarlett or Let it Snow!
In reading through the comments on my last post, I saw this:
anonymous said... Maureen -- I was wondering how you get to be just an author (with no day job) who lives a fabulous life between NYC and London?? Economic crisis aside, don't you have to be JK Rowling to do that? Is it all because of money from your books, or is it also because of speaking visits and stuff like that? I'd really love to know...since my dream in life is to be a full time writer!!!
Well, anonymous, be careful what you wish for! Let me tell you about a typical day of working on my new book, Scarlett Fever.
7:30: Wake. Do yogic finger exercises to prepare for the day’s writing. Shower, dress.
8:00: Breakfast of Coco Puffs and Juicy Juice at desk while answering e-mails and reading news.
8:27: Examine board of perfectly organized story notes. Congratulate self on way that book never gets off track in any way. Writing process is like well-oiled machine.
8:33: Have second helping of Coco Puffs and Juicy Juice as way of recognizing own achievements, as loving yourself is very important psychologically.
8:57: Realize have been Googling “dog on surfboard” images for some time. Cannot remember why, as dogs on surfboards have no role in book.
8:58: Roll up sleeves, get to writing.
8:59-9:22: Writing.
9:23: Finish off Coco Puffs. There were just a few left. Easier just to eat them.
9:50-10:21: Writing.
10:22: Official mj magician gets in touch with new trick developed for Let It Snow:
10:27-11:01: Writing.
11:02 AM: Angelina Jolie on phone. Question: “Do my lips look big in this picture?” Answer: “Yes.” I assume that she will take this as a compliment, as everyone loves her big lips, but she does not. I panic a bit and ad-lib: “Know what would make them look smaller? Adopting another baby.” This does not go down as hoped. She hangs up. She is very sensitive.
11:03-11:26: Writing
11:27: Emergency phone meeting with creators of Doctor Who. They are stuck on a scene and need my help. They haven’t even started explaining the plot of the episode when I am struck with the answer: “The bad aliens all have pets that look like rabbits, but it turns out the rabbits are actually in charge and the aliens are slaves. The Doctor frees the aliens through carrot-trickery and sends the evil rabbits back to their home planet. Make jokes about Easter Eggs. More TARDIS.” I hear someone say, “Genius!” but pretend I do not, as acknowledging this is bad form. In background, David Tennant realizes I am on phone and tried to run over in time, but I hang up. Have lost seven minutes of precious writing time. But if it gets them through the episode, it was worth it.
11:33: Peanut butter snack.
11:40-11:56: Writing.
11:57: Angelina Jolie on phone again. Apologizes for hanging up earlier. Wants to know if I was serious about the adopting a child as a way of reducing perceived lip size thing. I say no. She says that is what she thought. Obviously needs affirmation about her lips, so I tell her they are great, like two flesh-pillows on a bed of perfect skin. Realize too late that this is creepy, but she does not seem to mind. Remember that Angelina is herself kind of creepy, what with the collecting knives and wearing former husband’s blood around neck in jar. Brad says hi in background.
11:58-12:14: Writing.
12:15 PM: Leave for lunch meeting with creators of High School Musical. Think this is just friendly lunch, but they are soon pumping for ideas for the fourth movie in not so subtle way by asking questions like, “What rhymes with prom?” and “Do you want to play a game? It’s called, “Fill in the blank lines in this script!”” Excuse myself and leave after appetizers. Cannot believe they are so undignified. Flip over table as I go and throw breadbasket at one producer’s head for good measure.
1:02: Peanut butter snack, this time while squatting under footbridge in Central Park to keep it real.
1:24: Write four pages in my “Magick Dreams Sticker Journal.” Strictly private.
1:32-2:14: Writing. (Of book.)
2:15: Off to some committee meeting. Not even sure for what. I am on so many, I cannot keep track. Something about giving swans to orphans. Or bears. Not giving bears to orphans (or the other way around, LOL!), just bears. Actually, I think was about giving books . . . to someone. Possibly swans, bears, or orphans. In any case, this is the kind of thing I support wholeheartedly so write check for a cool ten grand and get my afternoon back to get some more writing done.
2:46-3:05: Writing.
3:06: Cheese snack.
3:12: Off to a theater downtown to consult on a production of Woyzeck, the classic German tragedy in 29 scenes first produced in 1879. I am somewhat out of ideas at this point, having exhausted most of them in my “Magick Dreams Sticker Journal” but try to bluff my way through by suggesting all-ABBA soundtrack, focusing on the heart-wrenching “One of Us.” Point them to the strangely compelling video that is based entirely on Agnetha taking things out of boxes, putting things on shelves, and hanging wallpaper. Leave through back while they are watching video on Youtube, but can tell that they like it.
3:57: While leaving theater through back door, spot J.K. Rowling lingering across street. Get in cab to make escape and almost succeed, but am spotted at last moment. She gets in cab to chase me.
3:58-4:11: Cab chase through Manhattan.
4:12: Shake her loose in traffic. Have cab take me to Scott Westerfeld and Justine Larbalestier’s house. Once there, continue writing in safety, after reflecting on experience in “Magick Dreams Sticker Journal.”
4:55: Am just cracking a difficult scene in book when phone rings. Angelina Jolie AGAIN. Am seriously regretting ever giving her my number, assigning her that “My Humps” ringtone. Ignore.
4:57: FIVE VOICEMAILS??? Angelina does not get that writers need quiet time to think. Also, do not understand how she has so much time to call me while maintaining status as world’s sexiest woman and top movie star while raising six small children and Brad Pitt. When “My Humps” plays again, throw phone out window. Wanted new model iPhone anyway.
4:58: Justine wants to know why I am throwing phones out of her window. Explain Angelina Jolie, big lips, “My Humps” situation. Justine chastises me for associating with Hollywood types. Says I am not keeping it real. Assure her I am, show her reflections I recorded earlier in “Magick Dreams Sticker Journal” while squatting under footbridge (will occasionally show small portions to certain people). Justine takes statement back, gives me cheese snack.
5:15: Leave for disco lesson.
6:17: Have just enough time to get to cocktails at the Famous Authors Club. Everyone is there. Too many names to list. Would sound like namedropping.
6:48: Libba Bray wants to know why J.K. Rowling has been calling her from my phone. Says all she did was some deep breathing, shout “I WROTE HARRY POTTER,” and hang up. Find out that this has been happening to EVERYONE in the last hour! J.K. Rowling found my phone! Disaster, disaster, disaster.
7:14: Emergency appointment at Genius Bar at Fifth Avenue Apple Store. Explain Angelina Jolie/lips/”My Humps”/J.K.Rowling situation. Genius explains that there is nothing Apple can do if I throw my phone out of a window into the waiting hands of the world’s best-selling author. I tell Genius that it is bad form to go around calling himself that. Purchase new iPhone, but not without a certain amount of indignation.
7:28: Glumly eat candy snack at candy counter of F.A.O Schwartz toy store while reprogramming new iPhone. Regret the way I treated the Apple Genius. Purchase him a four foot high stuffed giraffe as apology, but find when I go back to the store that he has gone home for the day.
7:49: Walk to literary landmark Algonquin Hotel with four foot high stuffed giraffe for second cocktail party of the night. Am refused entry, not because of giraffe, but because of calls made from my phone.
7:51: Very traumatic session with “Magick Dreams Sticker Journal” at Times Square Olive Garden, alone with endless breadsticks, salad, and pasta bowl.
8:27: Cancellation of old number/processing of new number complete. Immediately get 19 angry voice mails. Fast forward through most of them, pausing only to listen to the one about how I gave ten thousand dollars to an organization that forces orphans to make books about swans for bears. Wonder how this organization could ever come into existence and how I managed to join it. Last message is from Doctor Who people telling me that my idea has resulted in David Tennant being rushed to hospital after suffering a serious and never-before-experienced allergy attack while holding a rabbit. Angelina seems undeterred. Day looking to be total failure.
9:03: Back on street with giraffe, now called Barney, slogging along under bright lights of Broadway.
9:23: Stop at Starbucks to regroup. Decide to pour today’s experiences in Scarlett Fever instead of putting them into “Magick Dreams Sticker Journal.” Write like a crazy person, ignoring ringing phone, stares of other customers. Am in the world of the characters now, running around the Hopewell Hotel with Scarlett and Spencer and Lola and Marlene.
11:00: Thrown out of Starbucks. Have written an entire chapter. Feel good about this. Get in cab with Barney. Listen to messages. Have been forgiven by other Famous Authors, asked to come back to the club. Also, David Tennant, though gravely ill, has given a hopeful thumbs up.
11:12: Direct cab driver to secret disco club, where they only play ABBA. Cast of Woyzeck is there. Disco dancing until dawn. Well, 12:15. Tomorrow’s a work day!
I hope this helps provide some perspective. If you have any other writing questions, leave them below!
Go away for two weeks and what happens? ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD BREAKS.
Oh, sure it SEEMS bad.
Okay, it IS bad.
I guess I’m going to have to fire some of my staff—the guy who polishes all my doorknobs with gold dust-infused butter, the professional remote control operator, the person who sits on my sofa and gives French braids to all my guests, regardless of whether or not they want them or have enough hair for them . . . These are not the times for such luxuries. I knew it couldn’t last. But there are some really good things about the collapse of the world economy. I thought it would be good to bring them up.
Here’s one big one: in many ways it forces us to do things that we really had to do anyway. Like use less stuff. We have been wrecking the environment with all our buying and buying and buying and throwing stuff away. Reusing, swapping, and repairing will be IN! And that’s excellent!
And let’s talk about fun, because, as the old song goes, “not much money, oh but honey, ain’t we got fun!” There are LOADS of ways to have a good time without spending a cent! Here are just a few!
READING
Reading is super cheap, so that’s kind of excellent for those of us in the writing biz. Now, I know books cost money, but there are a few ways of looking at that problem.
1. Books at the library are free. Also, books are good to swap. So if you buy one book, you can swap around with a group of friends and get like TEN books for the one you swapped around! (Or whatever! I mean, just put in the number of friends you have swapping books!) Or you can do what I did in order to survive grad school—you can sit in the bookstore and read the entire book cover to cover in the coffee bar. (I called this my “Barnes and Noble scholarship plan.”) Reading . . . still the most affordable and awesome pastime.
2. Might I point out, however, that books are still excellent cheap gifts? Mine are especially cheap. Perfect for everyone on your holiday shopping list! And here’s a great tip . . . buy a book, take off the dust jacket, READ it, put the dust jacket back on, and then GIVE it to someone as a gift! They will never know, unless you get mustard on it or something. You have totally gotten both the reading and gifting experience out of it! SMART!
3. Also, if you keep visiting my blog, I tend to give books out. In fact, I have stored up a HUGE PILE of them to give out starting right after Thanksgiving as part of my annual holiday cheertacular. There you go!
AUTHOR APPEARANCES
Author appearances are usually free. We are carted around and deposited in your local bookstore where you can come and stare at us for ZERO DOLLARS and ZERO CENTS. If you want, you can come and see me read and sign and it won’t set you back a nickel! (Of course, if you were truly decent, you would at least braid my hair since I no longer have anyone to do it for me and I never learned how to braid hair. I know. It is shocking but true. I do not know how to braid my own hair.)
Where can you see me? Well, you can TALK to me this Wednesday night on the Readergirls Teen Reads Week chat. It’s at 9pm, Eastern Standard time. Or you can come and see me in person/braid my hair at the huge event I am doing in Pittsburgh with John Green on November 13th. You can read the updated Bulletins page for all the info. My Bulletins page? ALSO FREE!
THE INTERNET
During the first Depression, there was no internet. This is one of the things that will make the New Depression different. You can get tons of free entertainment online! Like my Judge Judy fan fiction!
Did you not know about my Judge Judy fan fiction?
All of my Judge Judy fan fiction is basically the same—Judge Judy listens to a case, schools someone on how to behave, and makes out with the bailiff. It’s a little formulaic, but every time I try to mix it up, people get upset. Like the time I wrote crossover High School Musical/Judge Judy fan fiction.
It was a totally awesome concept. Troy was suing Ryan, and then Sharpay made out with the bailiff . . . and then Troy had a dream sequence where he imagined the basketball court was like an ACTUAL court and Judge Judy sang a song called “From the Bench to the Basket.” It had excellent lyrics, like these:
Listen up, all you students! I know all about jurisprudence. And if you want to make out in my court, gotta learn that kissin’ ain’t no sport. Gotta learn to weave, gotta learn to duck, gotta learn how to get down and . . .
I cut it off there and posted that as part one of the story, just to get people on tenterhooks.
It was a really exciting concept, actually—because Judy was going to scream, “Puck!!!!!!” And then this hockey puck would come flying out of nowhere! Really, nowhere, because they were in a courtroom that had turned into a basketball court that had THEN turned into an ice hockey rink! Because, hello, DREAM SEQUENCE! And Troy would have to DUCK from the PUCK, and then it would go into some extended metaphor about his relationship being “on ice.”
I guess I was just pushing it after a while with the whole courtroom-high school musical-romance-basketball-hockey mix. It just confused people. My ratings went down the tubes. Also, people seemed to think I was going somewhere totally different with it. There were complaints.
In the end, all my fans wanted more of the classic Judy gets case/yells/makes out with bailiff I had been giving them. This is the problem with being an artist—once you do something that people like, no one will let you experiment with anything new.
Anyway, I hope you like my Judge Judy fan fiction, because once the New Depression comes, I’m going to be writing a lot of it. Again . . . the cost? ZERO DOLLARS. It would help if you wrote some fan fiction of my stuff so that I had something to read while playing with my limp, loose, unbraided hair.
FIND HUGH JACKMAN
This is a super-fun game that just requires time, energy, and a desire to have some old fashioned fun! And it totally proves that you don’t have to spend major Benjamins on fancy game consoles to have a good time.
The idea behind the game is really simple: you have to find Hugh Jackman. He could be anywhere! Go look for him!
This is a really flexible game, because you can play it alone or in teams. (If you play it alone, it is called “stalking.” In teams, it is called “being a fan.”) There are also all kinds of variations I’ve heard of, like: “Find David Tennant,” “Find John Barrowman,” “Find Alan Rickman,” and “Find Katie Couric.”
The winner is obviously the one who finds Hugh Jackman. The prize? Hugh Jackman! (Or David Tennant! Or John Barrowman! Or Alan Rickman, though I think someone has already played that game . . . )
(By the way this game is totally excellent but a tiny bit illegal, so maybe you should just stick to reading or board games.)
DISCO DANCING
Disco dancing is 100% free! You can covert your room into an AWESOME DISCO in a few easy steps! First, invite all your friends over. Get as dressed up as possible (shiny materials preferred). If you do not have a disco ball, just get a mirror and call it a disco square. Have someone stand by the light switch and flick it a lot. This will be your awesome lighting. If you don’t have any disco music, you can just play it right off Youtube!
Here’s a video to start you off! Here is Abba performing Dancing Queen in 18th century costumes for the wedding of King Gustaf of Sweden!
I hope these few suggestions help take away some of the concerns you may have been having. We are all going to get through this—some of us with unbraided hair, but whatever.
I’m sitting here listening my holiday iMix. At the moment, that means I am listening to Bing Crosby’s “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” You may be wondering why, since it is October 1st. Even by the most extreme standards, this is a little too early for holiday music.
I would argue that, actually. If you have been reading this for a while, you will know that I love HOLIDAY CHEER in the same way that I love ABBA. I am a holiday freak! I come from a family of holiday freaks! (OK. My mom.) Also, Bing Crosby! It’s always time for Bing.
But there is a specific reason. I am listening to holiday music because LET IT SNOW COMES OUT TOMORROW.
Some of you might not know what that is, so let me explain.
About a year ago, John Green, Lauren Myracle and I thought it would be a very good idea to work together on a three-author book—three separate stories that took place in the same town during the same storm, over Christmas. So we did.
John, Lauren, and I. Not in that order. I’ll let you figure out who’s who.
So here’s a little about Let It Snow . . .
Story one: THE JUBILEE EXPRESS, by me
I feel that the important thing to tell you about this story is that it is kind of based on something very real in my life, namely, MY MOTHER’S ALL CONSUMING OBSESSION WITH HER DICKENS CHRISTMAS VILLAGE.
For years, I have been looking at this village. Things happen in my brain, especially late at night when I am full of nog and cheer. And at some point I started speculating on what kind of trouble an addiction to tiny holiday houses might land you in. What if it got you arrested? On Christmas Eve?
Which is where my story starts. Jubilee Dougal’s parents are arrested in a riot while attempting to get the newest piece in the Flobie Santa Village. Now the daughter of convicts, Jubilee is forced on to a train against her will to spend the holidays with her grandparents, thus missing her one-year anniversary with her boyfriend . . . Perfect Noah, President of Everything, and his family’s annual Smörgåsbord. (With pickled fish. Which turns out to be better than it sounds and more important that you’d ever think pickled fish could be. Also, this is a Swedish Christmas tradition, one that I am sure the members of Abba enjoy.)
Unfortunately for Jubilee, the train is heading right into a monster storm, one that will bring the entire East Coast to a standstill. It’s this storm that lands her hundreds of miles away from home and her destination at a roadside Waffle House, with fourteen cheerleaders and a beautiful but sad guy named Jeb. It is there that she also meets Stuart, a recent dumpee and Target employee with a paralyzing fear of Starbucks. He will take her on a follow-the-yellow-hazard-light-lit-road journey through ice and sexual politics, smack into fake cheer, bizarre family relations, and madness.
This is not going to end well.
It’s here that we run into . . .
Story two: A CHEERTASTIC CHRISTMAS MIRACLE, by John Green
Tobin, JP, and the Duke are sitting around watching Bond movies. Tobin’s parents have been trapped in the snowstorm at Boston airport, and Tobin and his friends have free reign to celebrate the holiday eve in any way they see fit. Hence, Bond.
But everything changes when they get a call from Keun, their friend who works the counter at the Waffle House. Santa has arrived early, having delivered fourteen cheerleaders to his humble place of work—a Waffle House on the side of the road, on Christmas Eve.
There are two other employees at the Waffle House, and they will be calling THEIR friends, and there is only room for ONE CARLOAD OF GUYS in this high, holy temple, where cheerleaders do splits on the counters. So Tobin, JP, and the Duke must brave the biggest storm of the century in a death race to the Waffle House to be THE FIRST GUYS THERE.
Oh, except the Duke is a girl. This is just the first of the night’s complexities, which grow more serious and surreal as they venture further into the storm. (Something to watch for: one of the best chase sequences I have ever read. Seriously. I read this first on a train, in a snowstorm, in January (fitting) . . . and I did something you should not do on a train . . . BURST INTO UNCONTROLABLE HIGH-PITCHED LAUGHTER THAT MADE EVERYONE MOVE AWAY FROM ME.)
As we go into the weary dawn of the 26th of December, our tale is FAR from over. Because the storm has wrecked some damage and people are missing. So we enter . . .
Story three: THE PATRON SAINT OF PIGS, by Lauren Myracle
Addie has screwed up. Seriously. She had it all . . . an incredible boyfriend in the person of Jeb, normal hair, good friends . . . and then she went and messed it all up.
First, a major misunderstanding resulted in her kind of cheating on Jeb, and losing him. He’s out there somewhere in the storm, not calling her. Which explains why she has dyed her hair pink. Kind of.
Addie is NOT WELL.
When her friends Tegan and Dorrie come to pick up the pieces, Addie tries to salvage her wreck of a life by picking up Tegan’s new pet teacup pig from the pet store the next morning. The pet store is across from Starbucks, where she works. (This Starbucks has seen heartache before.)
What’s a teacup pig?
It’s one of THESE!
PIG!
Yes, that’s a pig. And you can raise it as a pet. Tegan has been waiting for her teacup pig for a VERY LONG TIME. And how hard can it be? Just going across the street to get a small pig?
Very hard, if you’re completely heartsick, and your head is pink, and your nemesis works in the store, and you’re behaving kind of strangely in general. It could all be fixed by ONE PHONE CALL from Jeb, letting Addie know that everything is okay and she is forgiven . . . but the storm has turned the world upside down. The town is full of cheerleaders and other strangers . . .
Want it? Get it NOW and it ships TOMORROW. It will be available EVERYWHERE YOU BUY BOOKS. I’d recommend an independent bookstore, but you can also get it at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Borders (which apparently thinks that John wrote it by himself), Target, or THE LIBRARY!
I’d give away copies today, except they are all at home in New York. But if you are in England, I will READ IT TO YOU from the copy I have on my computer if you can FIND ME!
