LIBBA BRAY HAS A GLASS EYE

It’s been a rough few weeks here in YA land. It seems like everyone has been on crazy deadlines, or getting sick, or otherwise falling to pieces. I think I should bring you all up to speed.

The other day, I had lunch with Justine Larbalestier and Libba Bray. Libba has been working 25 hours a day on the final book in the A Great and Rebel Terrible Angel trilogy and was looking a little green around the gills. The final days of revision are trying at best. Libba is one of those people who gives off an air of total composure—but it did seem like, with only a slight provocation, she might have flipped the table over and challenge the first comer to a knife fight. Or something like that.

We were talking about the fact that our compatriot, J. Green, was in the hospital with a horribly infected eye. (He’s out now.)

I was saying that I felt bad, because J. Green had been complaining about that eye for a while, and I kept saying, “Blah, blah, blah. Your eye is fine, Green.” Of course, it wasn’t.

And then Libba hit me with a surprise.

“I have a glass eye,” she said.

I was impressed, and I said so. I envy anyone who has a removable body part.

“You know what I was going to do?” she asked. “I was going to go to the hospital to see him, and I was going to say, ‘Hey! Bet you can’t do this!’ And I was going to smack the back of my head and . . .”

She mimicked popping out her eye into her palm and shoving it in Justine’s face.

“If you did that,” I said solemnly, “I would give you ONE MILLION DOLLARS.”



Libba was going to pay John a visit.

“You know,” Justine said. “When I first met Libba, I knew she was missing something, but I couldn’t remember what. I thought it was hearing in one of her ears. So I kept screaming at her.”

“I thought she was insane,” Libba said, nodding.

John is recovering, and by recovering, I mean that he is at home playing with his Wii. At least, that is what I assume he is doing. You don’t need two good eyes to play Wii, you only need the will. And he has the will.

Meanwhile, Scott Westerfeld (who sits next to me as I type this), has something like fifteen minutes to finish EXTRAS, the next book in the Uglies/Prettie/Specials series. He keeps staring off into space, as if he sees a hoverboard floating somewhere in the middle distance.

It is best not to provoke Scott, but it still seems like a good moment to interview him. Let’s do that now. This as in-process as you can possibly get.

ME: How’s that revising going?

SCOTT: What revision?

ME: The one you are doing right now, as we sit here.

SCOTT: (twitching a little) I’m not revising, I’m first drafting.

SCOTT starts typing again. I watch.

ME: Are there hoverboards in Extras?

SCOTT: There are hoverboards and there’s a whole new species of hover equipment.

ME: Are you having fun right now?

SCOTT: I’m having less fun that usual.

ME: Is this a bad time to be asking you questions?

SCOTT: (gritting teeth) No. It’s the perfect time.

ME: Oh, good!

I watch Scott’s fingers closely as he types. He looks at me.

ME: What are you typing right now?

SCOTT: (reading) “Flakes were falling from the sky, like a light snow.”

ME: That’s an official sneak preview of Extras?

SCOTT nods and scoots his computer over a little.

ME: Did you know that Libba Bray has a glass eye?

SCOTT: Yes.

ME: If you could have any body part made of glass, what would you get?

SCOTT: A tooth.

ME: I would get a foot.

There you go. That’s an mj exclusive.

I’m glad to see that some of you have been writing in with questions for me and for “Ask An Agent” with Daphne. I have to keep Daphne’s brain on track, because she is getting married and is using her considerable organizational skills making notebooks of dresses, cakes, and flowers, instead of figuring out how to get me a stun gun.

Did I not tell you this?

Yes, Daphne Unfeasible just got engaged. I knew it was coming. Her beau, Rexroth Implausible, told me—and I had to be quiet about it. Which I was. Quiet as the grave. It helped that this was when I had the flu and was asleep for about two days.

Rexroth and I get along very well. Like the other day, when Daphne was showing me their wedding registry, talking me through the coordinated china patterns and throw pillows or whatever.

“Know what you need?” I said. “A trampoline.”

Daphne paid no attention to this, but Rexroth perked up at once. I could tell from the look in his eye that he wanted to know more.

“boingboingboingboingboingboing,” I explained.

He nodded, and I could see that he knew exactly where I was coming from.

“boingboingboingboing,” he replied.

Daphne turned and narrowed her eyes.

“boingboingboing,” we both said.

And you know what? There’s a trampoline on the registry now. See, it’s good to have me around.



Let me help you with your registry. Get better stuff.


So, please keep sending me the requests and questions. I have examined them all. In fact, I pose a task for YOU.

THE UK CHALLENGE:

I will be leaving for the London office over the weekend. (Hopefully not in a snowstorm this time.) I am now accepting UK CHALLENGES. What should I do in the UK? I need to make up for the fact that I was flat on my back the last time I was there, and you guys seem to be full of good ideas. I have all of London at my disposal. And for a few days, I’ll even have Daphne! (Her participation in any hijinx cannot be guaranteed, unless I kidnap her, which I am not above doing.)

UK readers—I look forward to your weighing in!

I will examine all of the suggestions, both those in the comments and on e-mail, on Sunday night—and I will complete one of them.

Let’s see what you got.

(This will scare Daphne all week.)