I totally haven’t thought of a prize yet. But I will! Speakign of, do I owe prizes to anyone? I have a sneaking suspicion that I do. Everything was so crazy last month. Just drop me an email if I’ve been holding out on you.
And because it was too funny not to, we’ve got a special, Diana’s books themed runner-up. The creator hasn’t read Rampant, so he has no idea how apt this really is:
Patrick, who is probably too busy moving into his new house to even read blogs.
Rio is doing just fine these days. I went away for the weekend and I couldn’t believe it, but she grew while I was away! Unreal! Thankfully, she totally remembers me. We went swimming yesterday:
Every year, on the last day before they close down the community pool, they let the dogs in. It was a blast. Perhaps a bit overwhelming for our 12 week old, though. It took a bit of coaxing to get her into the water:
But she was as popular as ever. Look at all the people staring at the puppy!
The pool was filled with Goldendoodles, a golden retriever-poodle mix. (A ridiculous name that makes no sense, as there is no “D” in “Retriever.” SB thinks they should be called Goldenoodles. I think they should be called Goldenroodles. What do you all think?) Anyway, we were asked at least half a dozen times if she was one of those things. Apparently labradoodles are out, and this is the new hot mix. They had them made with standard poodles and with miniature ones.
I’ve never seen one dry, so I don’t know what they look like, but wet, they all look like afghan hounds. Long white-blonde wavy hair like Rapunzel. Long-haired and curly must be a tough combo. I don’t know why so many people at the pool thought Rio was one because she has short, fluffy, straight red hair. She looks more like she’d be a shepherd or border collie mix — but maybe if you don’t recognize the breed (which, edited to add, is a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever) and all you’ve been hearing about is these Goldenythingies, you just guess that.
Updated to add: I love google. Here’s a picture of those golden thingies dry:
Kinda like bearded collies, if you ask me. Anyway, according to one site I read, they are often more “golden retriever” looking at birth, and their curly, poodle-like coat grows in later. Here’s a picture of a goldenythingy puppy on the left and my baby girl on the right:
I don’t see it. I mean, they are both small ginger pups, but aside from that…. must be the novelty.
And Rio is way cuter:
“I’m ready for my close-up, Mommy DeMille!”
Okay, before you all start hating on me for the non-stop puppytopia this blog has become, I’ve got some great book news — for you! Yes, you lovely reader! This week I shall be giving away four fabulous new releases, one each day. I’ve read them all and you’re going to love them! Which ones are they? Well, you’ll have to come back tomorrow and check it out!
Between deadlines and family stuff, my plate is pretty full. But come back next week for announcement on the LOLPuppy contest as well as some fabulous giveaways and guest blogs!
I leave you with a few interesting sites around the internet:
1) Jennifer Lyn Barnes has a glorious manifesto about the purpose of YA. For the record, *I* thought that King was saying that it was an oxymoron that any novel was only for young adults. And this is the guy, remember, who made his name with a story about a prom queen gone bad. King does not roll with the belittling of other writers in other genres or other markets. That’s why he so loves Nora Roberts.
Updated to add:Having now read King’s actual article, a review of the new novel The Hunger Games, I still think he meant that the classification of young adult is a sticky one. However, I also think the man is due to read a bit more widely in the genre, if he truly believes that death, violence, and tough choices are rare circumstances in young adult novels. It’s not all prom queens (oh, wait a minute) and unicorns (ditto).
2) Maureen Johnson, who never lacks for strong opinions, gives last week’s brilliant post on the state of sex education in schools a cracklingly good follow up featuring the most succinct and cogent argument I’ve ever seen against the appallingly stupid idea of “abstinence only education.”
“…anything with the word “only” in the title doesn’t really sound all that educational. Anything that actually comes out and says “WE ARE LEAVING INFORMATION OUT” has no place on a curriculum.”
Sing it, sister.
And, because no week is complete without a picture of Rio, I leave you with a depiction of Rio’s favorite place: on top of the AC vent. She’s a little immodest, I must say.
I woke up. I walked the puppy and fed her breakfast. I made tea and put a load of laundry in the washer. I took the trash to the curb. I checked email, I checked blogs, I worked on a scene in my book.
And then I remembered that it’s September 11, and that seven years ago, right about now, I was trapped on a plane ping-ponging back and forth between NYC and Washington, DC airspace, terrified for my life. I didn’t know then that I was one of the lucky ones.
Keep those who have lost someone in your thoughts today. Keep those who were lost in your hearts.
Cara King,I love you. Will you marry me? I make excellent tea, and for you I shall labor intensively to perfect my scone recipe. For you, my witty, witty darling, I shall endeavor to learn the quadrille, and wear a pince-nez, and play whist.
Unfortunately, a family emergency has called me away for a bit. I leave you with this very amusing story by Sarah Rees Brennan,* whose debut novel comes out, I believe, the same day as Rampant. Though all sources tell me Brennan’s novel is about demons, she’s clearly trying to get the drop on unicorns, here.**
I just got the oddest question, but maybe, given the current state of paranormal romance, it’s not so odd. After all, most paranormal romance books are about vampires and werewolves in love, or demons and selkies and angels and fey and ringwraiths and who knows what all else in love with people or part people or varieties of humanoid-like entities which may or may not be mortal…
Which is not to say that I don’t love me some of that. I adore C.L. Wilson’s Tairen Soul series, which is about an immortal fey warrior king who can shift into the form of a flying, fire breathing cat. If you’d like to talk to Wilson about her incredible, New York Times bestselling series, check out the Romantic Times Forum this week.
But that’s not the kind of book I’ve written.
Just so we’re all perfectly clear: no unicorn plays the part of romantic interest in RAMPANT, my killer unicorn book. They are not unicorn-people. They are not unicorn-shifters. They are not were-unicorns. They are unicorns. Beasts, as they call them in the Land of Narnia. When they procreate, they do so with other unicorns. People are food. Not food that they meet in bio class and decide to marry and turn into a unicorn 2000 pages, a cliff-diving incident, and a trip to Italy later. Food.
The book centers around a human (not a part human or a were-human or an undead human or a human who is in any way, shape, or form, part unicorn), Astrid Llewelyn, who is by birthright a unicorn hunter. She doesn’t like unicorns *that way.* In fact, she’s not a fan of unicorns at all. Nor does she meet a unicorn with a soul and have a desperate doomed star-crossed love affair with him. (Though I’m sure a unicorn would, if given the chance, eat all her friends most gleefully. So that’s a little like Angel, I guess.)
So, just wanted to make that clear, for anyone who wondered why that nice Diana girl was going from writing about snarky Ivy Leaguers to cryptozoological bestiality — I’m not. I love the unicorns, I just don’t *love* the unicorns. Capice?
Glad I was able to clear that up.
P.S. There is plenty of human/human romance in Rampant. What can I say? I’m conventional like that.
P.P.S. If you want a great story where the unicorn does turn into a person and is part of a romance, check out Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn (pictured above). It’s a classic.
So about 90% of our stuff is still in boxes, and that’s because we’re not entirely sure where things are going to be living yet. The new house, for all it’s fancy-schmancy ice-makers and hardwood floors, is a bit on the scanty side when it comes to closets. It does, however, have both an attic and a finished and unfinished basement, so it’s not like we don’t have storage space. But it’s definitely an adjustment to go from “This Kitchen appliance lives in the hall closet of our apartment, which is approximately two baby steps from the kitchen of our apartment” to “This Kitchen appliance lives on a shelf I haven’t assembled in the unfinished part of our basement, which is one puppy proof gate, two light switches, and a thirty second trek down a flight of stairs, through two rooms and around a corner from the kitchen of our house.”
I never really bothered trying to figure out which appliances were ones that I need on a regular basis and which ones I only trot out on special occasions. (Except my roasting pan. That one can go away until Thanksgiving.) But now I need to figure that out, so I can see where to put the every day stuff (oh, Salad Shooter, please don’t live in the basement!) and where to hide the special occasion items.
So the mostly-packed state means that I’m not entirely sure where things I *need* are. Like my hand blender. Or SB’s passport. (Found the latter, a relief as he starts work today.)
Speaking of kitchen appliances, I can now state unequivocally that there will be a waffle-making scene in Tap & Gown. Tell the spoiler sites. Mmmm, waffles.
There may also, at some point in the future, be cut scenes. I know, I know, you’re all thinking big deal, right? Well, it is a big deal for me. I’ve never had cut scenes in my SSG books before. I’ve deleted scenes, but only because revisions took the book in a completely different direction. But because my method for writing this book has taken a somewhat different direction (needs of the story), there are a few scenes that I decided in retrospect were not necessary to the central story. They now live in my fun cut scene file on Scrivener. When the book comes out (since they are all spoilerific), I’ll post them on the site.
I also have a bunch of cut scenes for Rampant that I’ll be posting when that book comes out next year. The reason Rampant has so many cut scenes is because there was one version of the story where I used multiple points of view, but in the end, the story worked best being told completely from Astrid’s perspective. So I have several scenes written from the POV of secondary characters. Sometimes they are the same scenes that actually appear in the book, from a different POV, and soemtimes, they are scenes that happen when Astrid is not present.
Yes, a little like Midnight Sun. Except not because they are just a few scenes here and there, not the whole story. Also, I have no intention of writing the same book from those characters’ perspectives. Also, not one of them are bloodsucking undead fiends with penchants for mass murder and the taste of teenage girlflesh.*
But if you can’t wait for next summer, you can actually find three paragraphs (and change) of Rampant on the web right now, at Fangs Fur Fey, where we’re all posting action scenes from our latest FFF books. Go forth and enjoy.
In other news, I’ve got some giveaways and special guests planned for this week. Stay tuned!
_______________________
* Please note: this impression is taken entirely from one reading I did of the first chapter of MS several years ago on Meyer’s website, in which Edward threatens to massacre the entire bio class so he can eat Bella. I have not read the rest of the excerpt. Though I will say, it was a pretty cool freaking chapter!
I’m so excited about this. I adore Michael Cera, and I’ve always been impressed by Kat Dennings, who I believe is woefully underappreciated in the teen market (The Forty Year Old Virgin, Charlie Bartlett, that HIllary Duff movie where Duff was a gospel singer whose her brother died that has the guy who looks like Brandon in it). I hope she gets to sing in this one.
Who here has read the book? It’s been on my TBR pile for a while.
In other news, Diana Gabaldon (pronounced Gah-BAWL-dun, according to the audiobooks), has posted an interesting examination of her scene-building. Now, while I’d never send Amy out into the creek for watercress (Amy might not be entirely sure what watercress is, except that it was once served to her in a soup at some highly fancy Master’s Tea she attended),
and the SSG books are not written in a style given to long kitchen-cabinet lists (Claire is given to talking about the contents of her larder in a spring asparagus, herbs, potatoes, succotash, hanging ropes of blah de blah and piles of withered potatoes in the corner-kind of way), there was a lot that resonated with me in the post. Namely, this:
At this point, my innate sense of rhythm and pacing is getting restless and thinking, “Enough with the backstory, description, and thoughts—something should happen!”So it does:
A hideous shriek split the air, and I jerked, dropping the basket.
So Diana G goes for the random scream. I’m a fan of the explosion or phone call, but we both have that, “Crap, nothing’s happening, better throw a monkey wrench into the midst” writing tic. Serves as a good reminder that no matter how disparate your styles, the basic building blocks of story are fundamentally the same.
In other words, get to the point.
Of course, what we view as “the point” could also be fundamentally different. The point in a romance might be a physically static, but highly emotional scene, while in an adventure, you might need an action sequence. With SSG books, it really depends. Sometimes there’s action. Sometimes there’s tense dialogue. (oftentimes. Amy does love to chatter.) Upon occasion, there’s a love scene.
I have internet again! O, happy day, too roo, too lay!
I cannot tell you how annoying it has been these past few weeks to be living without you, my sweet pablum, my exquisite opiate of the masses. How do I live without you? As I was standing on my neighbor’s porch, watching the second cable guy in ten hours balanced precariously on top of a ladder, trying desperately to get our cable working, and explaining to the nice new neighbors that no, we weren’t actually getting TV cable, just cable internet, and watching their eyes go all wide… I realized that my internet addiction is not, perhaps, fully understood by the masses. (However, she did realize that, sans internet, I was spending a lot of time in the Panera Bread — free wifi — down the street.
Seriously, though, I’ve had a list of things to look up once this darn cable was hooked up. Things like:
Who sings the theme song on this last season of The Wire? (Steve Earle, who plays Bubbles’ NA sponsor)
What do they call those little entryway pieces of furniture that are like a combination mail/key/and leash holder, coat rack, and mirror? (Hall trees, apparently)
More eggplant recipes (anyone?)
Lots of secret stuff for T&G that I obviously cannot discuss here.
So anyway, I have the internet, and SB is celebrating by playing WOW, and Rio is celebrating by napping on the air vents, as per usual:
It was 90 degrees out today. No one gets to say my dog ain’t smart. She’s also a little worn out puppy, as she just came back from her first vet visit, where she was vaccinated (not that she noticed, so intent was my pup on a fingerful of cheese whiz). The vet says, “I can’t promise you anything, but sometimes these shots wear puppies out.” I tried not to get my hopes up. But worn out she is, the little dear. I’m expecting she’ll be right back to Rambunctious Rio by tomorrow.
We’re still settling into the new house. Unpacking a little more every day, starting to think seriously about what furniture we’d like to put where. SB did a lot of work in our office today, and it looks great, though I do want to paint in there eventually, so it may not stay that way. However, things I already love about the house:
Our new refrigerator has an icemaker. This thrills me to no end. In the apartment, ice was a big deal. We had to remember to refill the little plastic containers, we had to wait for them to freeze, we coudln’t wait too long or they’d either sublimate or get funky freezer-smell. So basically, to put ice in something, you had to think two hours in advance that you wanted ice in something in two hours. We didn’t use ice unless it was strictly necessary for the consumable in question. Like pina coladas. But now I have ice at the press of a button! And so does Rio. Yay for us both!
The exposed brick wall in my new office. Every time I go in there I am pleased anew. So pretty, and it fulfills all my secret longings of living in an urban loft somewhere. (Or some massively cool reclaimed corner store like the home my cousins-in-law own in Baltimore.)
The hardwood floors. Come to find out from my neighbor that a former owner of the house was a hardwood floor dealer, which explains the fab floors in my house. I really hope I don’t wreck ‘em.
The sprayer on my new sink. It’s not a divided sink, but it sprays. Great for dish *and* dog-washing.
And, don’t tell SB, but much as I’ve been bitching and moaning about giving up my gas range, I am really liking the electric *oven* in my new kitchen. I made baked potatoes the other evening, and they took 65 minutes. In our old gas apartment oven, they would have taken approximately four and a half days.
Ah, house. I own a house. And a dog. And you people are bearing the brunt of hearing about both. A college friend who heard about my recent acquisitions was all, “when did everyone I know turn into grown-ups?” which made me laugh because it’s a running theme in T&G, too. Maybe Amy and I have more in common than I thought. We’re both going through a sea change stage of life.
The final season of The Wire is out on DVD, so Sailor Boy and I are at last at last able to watch it. I love this show. I love the characters, the complexity, the intricate, interlocking storyline. I love Bunk, and Snoop, and Stringer Bell, and Hurc, and Bunny, and Bubbles, and Dukie, and that guy who started the boxing ring. I love how they are always eating Utz chips.
I was listening to the DVD commentary of the first episode, and they were discussing how when this (short) season came out, all the fan forums were going on and on about how they needed to slow it down, that it was moving too fast, which is, they argued, something you almost never hear on a television show. Most of the time, it’s like “get it going already” — get the characters together, tell them why they are on the island, bring on the Big Bad.
You hear a lot that cable television shows like The Wire are capable of pulling off pacing tricks that network shows can’t. Since they are not beholden to advertisers for every minute they place on the air, they can take the time to show, say, McNulty walking around a parking lot looking at cop cars for a few minutes. But this can backfire.
A few years ago, I watched the series Carnivale on TV. Even with the magic ov DVD that meant I didn’t have to wait between episodes, I found this show to be interminable. Episode after episode, nothing would happen. It was like the creators of the show were testing the limits of the cable TV leniency. Well, they lost, and the show was canceled before we really found out anything about what was going on. A lot of promise and atmosphere, but no payoff.
So then why does The Wire work, with its leisurely pacing and unfolding of events, when Carnivale didn’t? Is it really a pacing problem, or is it more about what that pace revealed? Perhaps the problem with Carnivale wasn’t that “nothing happened,” as I said above. Perhaps the problem was that the things that did happen did not warrant the amount of time spent on them. Maybe it wasn’t pacing, it was delivery. Too much was left cryptic, too little revealed to either the characters or the audience. Carnivale was a tease, a one trick pony where they generated most of the interest not from the character or the way their situation was unfolding, but from finding out what the heck was going on. (Completely unnecessary and why, as the show progressed, I became far more interested in the relationship between, say, Jonesy and the family of whores, than I was in the whole A-plot of the superpower and the devil and the feud.)
If you’re only into a story for the “reveal” — what happens, who dies, why are the bad guys doing this, is the island really a metaphor for limbo — it’ll be tough to make pacing fast enough for you. Once you start watching a show to, say, see if that damn truth is really out there, rather than because you love the witty repartee between the characters, the writer has already lost.
Those people doing drive-bys outside of Barnes & Noble the day Harry Potter 6 came out and yelling, “Dumbledore’s dead?” They don’t get it.
In The Wire, how it ends is not the only pleasure. I don’t want to be spoiled, but I would still enjoy the show if I was. (Truth: a DVD commentary in the third season totally spoiled the end for me, but I still loved that season.) I loved watching Marlo struggle to communicate with the French-speaking bank teller. I loved watching McNulty pull out his cop badge at an opportune moment, I love watching Lester (I love Lester so much) be brought in to talk sense to McNulty and then get on board with the whole “create a serial killer” plan. The pacing is perfect, because it allows for all these moments of character, these moment of reversal, these moment of social commentary (like when Michael, Dukie, and Bug can’t get a cab). They don’t hold out on the audience, and they don’t hold out on the characters. There’s always something going forward, even if it is deeply tragic, or ironic, or frustrating.
There was a comment on the Rites of Spring (Break) Spoiler Thread a few days back from a reader who wondered why [WHITE FOR SPOILERS, MOUSE OVER TO SEE]Poe and Amy didn’t get together at the end of UTR. It’s been making me think. ow often have I watched a romantic comedy where the characters get together at the end and I wonder to myself, “Lord, how long is thatgoing to last?” (Tom Hanks gets in the elevator, turns to Meg Ryan, and goes, “So, you’re the chick who has been stalking me, yeah?”) Amy and Poe weren’t ready to be together in any viable way at the end of that book. (It still may not be at that point, but they’re going forward anyway.) The events in UTR are, yes, a catalyst for what comes later, but it needed time to process in Amy’s occasionally-clueless brain before something could come of it. It needed time for them to interact as friends and peers, and not just adversaries, or in a crisis situation, before the possibility of their relationship would work. I’ve read reviews of ROSBthat talk about how the reader is not usually a fan of the “asshole love pairing” but that it worked in this case, and I think that’s in large part due to the fact that I took a book and a half (and counting) for their feelings toward one another to change. It wasn’t: “I hate you! I love you!” It was more like, “I hate you! I begrudgingly respect you! I am willing to accept that you have good qualities beyond the qualities I so dislike! I may actually find you non-repulsive at times!” and so forth. Poe is still Poe, and Amy knows that. What that means for their future, I can’t say.
Anyway, morning thinking-aloud time.
Back to writing.
I just got the oddest question, but maybe, given the current state of paranormal romance, it’s not so odd. After all, most paranormal romance books are about vampires and werewolves in love, or demons and selkies and angels and fey and ringwraiths and who knows what all else in love with people or part people or varieties of humanoid-like entities which may or may not be mortal…
