I WOULD RARELY LIE TO YOU

It’s a busy time here.

I am extremely pleased to report that Justine Larbalestier and Scott Westerfeld have finally returned to these shores. Justine, being Australian and not having seen snow until the age of 26, is currently traumatized by the actual cold weather we have here in New York. We met for lunch in our usual spot to celebrate this wondrous occasion. They brought along fellow Australian author Melina Marchetta, who had to leave a bit early to go to the airport. It was an excellent time, even if Justine shivered throughout and looked at my gloves as if she had never seen these magical bodiless hand-creatures before.

The lunch was so excellent, in fact, that we barely even noticed when an entire television film crew rolled up five feet behind us (and eventually around us) and filmed some Food Network segment with Mario Batali and one of the Sex in the City women. (I have never seen an episode of Sex in the City all the way through, but I can at least spot at Sex in the Cityite in the wild. Also, Justine told me who she was.)

The three of us were astonished to find ourselves surrounded by cameras.

After that, we all snuck up on writing partner John Green, who was deep in the terminal throes of finishing the very last sentences of the first draft of his new book. In general, I do not advocate sneaking up on John Green. I have painted him in the past as a man on the edge. But he took it well, greeted everyone with joy, and got himself a sensibly-pointed, Weight Watchers friendly lunch. I pointed this out, and he confirmed it.

“Five points,” he said proudly.

“Wait,” Justine said. “You really are on Weight Watchers? I thought that was a lie that Maureen made up for her blog.”

“Lie?” I said. “Me? I don’t even know the meaning of the word. I am a creature of pure truth. When I blog about this, you will see. Every detail will be recorded with pinpoint accuracy.”

“What about that fight at Books of Wonder? What about John getting drunk when he won the Printz and trying to build a sandbox out of cat litter in the middle of the street?”

“Okay,” I admitted. “Those two instances were what I like to think of as truth explorations. John is an artist. He is capable of great swings of emotion.”

John nodded away and ate his low calorie lunch with gusto. But Justine was not done.

“Or that time you claimed that Scott was an alien with reptile eyes who tried to steal a non-existent helicopter from the top of the New York Times building?” she added.

I glanced over at Scott. He gave me a lightening-fast shake of the head and made a quick slit-throat gesture. Then he put his sunglasses back on.

“Well,” I said quickly. “Of course THAT didn’t happen! But that post was otherwise brimming with facts. I said that you don’t like chocolate and that Scott doesn’t wear jeans. You can’t deny that those things are true.”

“Be that as it may,” she said. “Sometimes, you tell stories.”

Reader, she is right. Sometimes I do. But everything I tell you is based in a deep, essential truthiness. And it was only those three times. Justine was astonished to find that my account of what authors do all day was actually the real deal, right down to the low fat cream cheese in John’s pants . . . in his pants.

And I’m certainly telling you the truth when I say that John Green and I are currently in similar boats. We are both finishing up first drafts. He’s done now, but I am not.

In a past entry, I described the process of finishing up a book in its very final stages, when the deadline is well and truly upon you, and the curtain is coming down. Maybe I should tell you a bit more about the other end, the part that is . . . as one of my most beloved theater instructors would have said . . . very loosey-goosey.

Maybe you imagine that writers sit down and start with the first sentence, and then keep writing away, until they finally type the words THE END. And maybe some do. But that’s not how it goes with me.

I may start with the beginning, but I may start with the middle. I may write a page, and then think of a sentence I want to write somewhere down the line, so I write that sentence, knowing someday I will catch up to it.

It’s like I’m building a house out of Legos—really, really small legos. Like, those single prong ones. But I don’t necessarily start with the ground and build up, carefully creating the base of my Lego house, leaving spots for the windows and the door. I often start with the windows. I hang things in mid-air. I build the roof. I put single Legos in where I think the bedroom will be. Sometimes I begin work on the pool in the back. Sometimes I build an entire LEGO CITY this way.

The result is that absolutely no one can read my drafts until they are complete, because they are literally masses of single paragraphs and sentences connected by the invisible ink that is in my head. And that’s fine by me, because I don’t usually want anyone reading at that stage.

I spend a lot of the first draft thinking about what the second draft will look like, because the two usually have little to do with each other. In draft two, I am Lego Godzilla, stomping all over the place and ripping things out with my squarish Lego claws.

Me.

But what I have right now is still Lego City. I happen to love this particular Lego City, and I have been working on it assiduously. I think this may be the best Lego City yet. But it is too soon for me to talk about it in depth.

But . . . what this has done is get me behind on letting you know about the newest members of my PIRATE DANCE CAMP CREW. I posed a challenge to my crew members to come up with some ways of getting the Girl At Sea message to the world. They didn’t let me down.

I am happy to introduce challenge winner Thea, now First Mate Katfish Kate, who is working on a short jellyfish-themed video about Girl At Sea. This won my heart, because I am terrified of jellyfish, and this fear of mine plays out in the book. I cannot wait to see this.

Also, an entire mini-crew form the second place Pirates Too. They include: Pirate Mandy Too Diefor, Pirate Miley Too Divine, Pirate Faith Too Dangerous, and Pirate Juliette Too Delicious. They are working on a plan so secret that it cannot be revealed here.

To all who entered, the ideas were all excellent. And there is a lot of time between now and the release of Girl At Sea, which means a lot of time left for more scheming.

Until then, I return, in all truthfulness, to work. Really.

WHAT WRITERS DO ALL DAY

First, dear readers . . . if you have not been watching Brotherhood 2.0, you should be. John and his sensational brother Hank are doing an experiment. They can’t e-mail or text each other for a year. They can only talk or visit in person. And they have to record a video blog to each other every other day.

You should not only watch this because it is excellent, but I feel the need to point out that E. Lockhart and I are featured at the opening of the January 16th installment, saying good morning. And then January 17th, internet sensation Hank carries out a suggestion I made in a comment. He speaks to me! Hank speaks to me!

Now, you may remember that it was E. Lockhart and John Green who spearheaded the attack against the audience at Books of Wonder in December, so sitting with them does make me a little nervous. But it is good to be a little nervous when writing. It prevents you from falling into a dangerous state of complacency.

But wait, you are asking yourself . . . why were you sitting there with E. Lockhart and John Green? Is this what writers do all day, just sit around with each other?

The answer is yes.

There are advantages and disadvantages to the way writers work. The good part is that we get a lot of flexibility and can work when we want, where we want. The bad part is that we often work by ourselves, and we can slowly go crazy and procrastinate.

Writers love to procrastinate, as I have said before. We e-mail, and we Google random words in our stories. We Google ourselves. We Google you.

This is all very normal. It gets a lot worse when you don’t know what to write. For example, I got stuck one day and found myself polishing a silver trash can for an hour. And it wasn’t even my trash can. It was Oscar’s.

So, by banding together, we make ourselves strong. We decided to meet for a few hours each day to work, so that at least for part of the day, we were accountable to others.

It also gives me the opportunity to see what other writers do all day, because I really had no idea. I sort of assumed they were all being super-productive, all the time. Here, for your reading pleasure and edification, is a glimpse into the working life of three writers.

(It should be pointed out that J. Green and I are approaching deadlines. J. Green’s is quite soon, and mine is a few weeks later. This means that we experience constant mood fluctuations about our books—ranging from just plain worry to a kind of soul-freezing doom. E. Lockhart is not in this predicament right now. Also, E. Lockhart is one cool cucumber, whereas J. Green and I are a bit more sensitive and histrionic. I don't think he would deny this.)

10 AM: Due to stalled train, I am last to arrive. E. Lockhart and J. Green are talking about “books.” As I cannot read, I avoid this conversation and stare into space for fifteen minutes, waiting for the caffeine in my tea to take effect. E. Lockhart is working on a title for her new “book.”

10:11 AM: Though I am not familiar with the subject of reading, I propose that adding the words “in your pants” to any book title makes it better. We discuss this subject for several minutes, trying it out. Come to the conclusion that “Looking for Alaska in Your Pants,” “The Fly on the Wall in Your Pants,” and “13 Little Blue Envelopes in Your Pants” would all have been better book titles.

I cannot read, but can pretend very well.

10:21 AM: Work begins.

10:23 AM: “An Abundance of Katherines in Your Pants” is also very funny.

10:25 AM: J. Green, bemoaning the restrictiveness of the Weight Watchers point system, gets himself a bagel with low-fat cream cheese, which is somewhat runnier than normal, fatty cream cheese.

10:47 AM: E. Lockhart asks J. Green if he is going to eat that bagel, or just let it is sit on the windowsill and get cold. J. Green replies that he is going to let it get cold because he likes it that way. E. Lockhart clearly thinks that J. Green is weird, but is much to polite to say anything like that.

11:05 AM: J. Green tries to eat bagel with cream cheese. Plan goes horribly awry. Cream cheese everywhere. Face, hands. Drops bagel on his leg. E. Lockhart and I laugh and laugh and laugh. Finally get him a napkin.

11:11 AM: I point out that the cream cheese has taken hold in the corduroy folds of J. Green’s pants. J. Green acknowledges that this is true.

11:23 AM: “A Great and Terrible Beauty in Your Pants” is also very funny. But that is not one of our books. That is Libba Bray’s. Also, “Magic Lessons in Your Pants” by Justine Larbalestier would have been a great success. I only think these things to myself, and do not share them with the group.

We are too busy working for me to discuss the new titles.

11:28 AM: J. Green still has a lot of cream cheese on him.

12:18 PM: J. Green has a lunch commitment. Clearly, the bagel has not satisfied him. He says that he will be back shortly.

12:35 PM: E. Lockhart and I have lunch. Neither of us eat meat, but find the selection available to us at our writing location adequate. I declare that smoked almonds are my eighth favorite food. As I think this through, I have the horrible realization that when I made a random guess at what my favorite food is, the first thing that leaps to mind is tacos. This seems very sad and third grade of me, so I do not reveal it to E. Lockhart.

12:41 PM: I don’t think tacos are my favorite food. Wonder what actual favorite food is. Decide it must be something like Thai curry or miso soup, both of which I love.

12:46 PM: Nope. I’m still only getting tacos.

12:48 PM: The prospect of a taco is sounding pretty good right now. I haven’t had tacos in ages. I wonder where I can get a vegetarian taco. I do not ask E. Lockhart, even though she probably knows.

1:13 PM: You may think that famous writers like J. Green have their lunch commitments at some of the best restaurants in town. J. Green has been to Chick-Fil-A, where he had a salad. J. Green hates Weight Watchers.

1:24 PM: E. Lockhart further explains the intricacies of the Weight Watchers point system to J. Green. He thought he would be finished with his diet in about three weeks. She delivers the news that, in order to meet his stated goal, he will be doing it for fourteen weeks or more.

1:30 PM: J. Green is clearly unhappy, both about his deadline and the prospect of thirteen more weeks of Weight Watchers.

E. Lockhart accidentally causes palpable dismay on the part of J. Green.

1:45 PM: E. Lockhart’s work for the day requires internet access, so she leaves us. I move over to her spot.

1:47 PM: J. Green and I get down to work again.

2:15 PM: J. Green and I stare sadly at each other from across the table.

2:32 PM: I tell J. Green my favorite parts of Printz Award-winning Looking for Alaska. He sighs and looks deeply into the cream cheese still in his pants. This actual "in his pants" is not really as funny as our conceptual "in your pants." At least to him.

2:46 PM: I tell John Green that I heard that Treasure Island was written in just three weeks. I’m not actually sure if this is true, but this encourages him.

Just after a word count check.

3:08 PM: J. Green yells out loud at a car scene in his book. Also, J. Green makes hand gestures when he writes, as he tries to figure out how characters will move and how to describe these movements. J. Green says I do the same thing.

3:58 PM: My computer goes insane, crashes, scrambles my entire book document. J. Green is forced to listen to my cries for the next 40 minutes as I reassemble it. He is very patient about this, but then again, J. Green used to be a hospital chaplain and knows how to deal with people in distress.

4:07 PM: J. Green ruminates out loud about other possible career choices.

4:58 PM: J. Green continues writing at a steady clip until his departure. Packs up slowly shaking head. We discuss the great strides we will make in the next few days.

5:17 PM: I conclude that “Peeps in Your Pants” by Scott Westerfeld is my favorite new YA title. I would share this with the group, but there is no one to tell. I am nonetheless satisfied, and close up shop for the day.

A successful day's work . . . in your pants.