I did not go see the midnight showing of WATCHMEN last night. Too much to do. I didn’t even make it up until midnight, let alone 3 a.m.
Sailor Boy, who first attracted my attention doing a Spawn impression (long, long story involving Tim Curry, and not the way y’all think) and has introduced me to many a comic book and graphic novel since then, has dropped hints that he may wait to see it until my return from Ireland. But I’d owe him one. In the meantime, we’ll have to content ourselves with this brilliant, subtle, and incredibly perverted little bit of parody (The Scooby Doo Bubastis might be my favorite part).
I’m not sure how funny (and/or disturbing) this is to people who haven’t read the book. But trust me, it’s a doozy.
I really enjoyed the discussion about movies on the last post. Like Julie, I find myself less and less interested in the type of movies that win awards. I think there’s a noticeable difference between these “award bait” films and the movies that the vast majority of the movie-going public goes to see. And I think that’s wrong. You can have films that are wonderful and also worthy of awards. I think it’s similar to literary snobbery — if it’s not a limited-release art house film, fuggetaboutit? I am lucky in that I have an art house cinema a few blocks from my house, so I can easily go see Rachel Getting Married and Slumdog Millionaire (both of which actually seem really interesting to me) — but I find it ironic that I’ve actually seen more of the nominated documentaries this year than I’ve seen the nominated “pictures.” I read a lot of reviews of the Revolutionary Roads and the Readers of the world (I believe it was the Slate film critic who decided the Reader should be more appropriately titled Boo Hoo I Boinked A Nazi) and I can honestly say that neither of them seem the slightest bit interesting to me. Not even in the DVD renting realm. More like, if I did have cable, and they were on cable, and I was flipping stations, I may give them a whirl. Instead of watching those, I rented Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind again, which is a great film, and in which Kate Winslet is phenomenal. And as for this year’s Oscar-nom darling, Benjamin Button, well, aside from the fact that I hope they are giving Audrey Niffenegger some kind of money for stealing her plot (it’s certainly not Fitzgeralds!)*, a short film (now, unfortunately, unavailable) comparing it shot-for-shot with Forest Gump was all I needed to see to convince me to skip it (and Brad Pitt’s bad southern accent. He should join a club with Nicole Kidman).
So yeah. Movies.
In other news, it’s beginning to thaw out there. I even took Rio for a walk yesterday. She went nuts. Horrific leash manners, really, for about half the walk. I had to lay down the law, which, naturally, she didn’t appreciate at the time, but she loves me plenty now. Snuggled with me last night and everything. It’s a truth universally acknowledged by dog trainers that puppies like it when you’re the boss of them. Pack dynamics and all.
Okay, I’m off. Today is a big writing day for me. I am in one of those instances where I have to go back into my manuscript and fudge with stuff and add chapters because I realized I got the order somewhat muddled and things have to happen before the things I’ve already written about happen. Joy.
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* Seriously, does it strike anyone else as being the same deal where George Lucas tried to get the rights toTheHobbit and couldn’t, so he made Willow instead?
Scalzi argues that characters who are generally put together are not necessarily Mary Sues. I found this post very interesting because of a conversation I had on Fangs, Fur, Fey a while back (nope, can’t find it, I looked) where someone more versed in the SFF world than I told me that the accusation of “Mary Sue!” is so ubiquitous that it has almost lost all meaning.
***For those who are curious, “Mary Sue” is a term used to describe idealized, often-authorial-self-insertion wish fulfillment characters, usually in fanfiction, but occasionally in original stories. For instance, fan-fiction is rife with the perfect, young (often teenaged) new ensign on the Enterprise/Student at Hogwarts/vampire slayer who shows up, is beautiful and beloved by all thecharacters — but especially all the male characters–on the show, is especially talented and perfect in every way, is above the temptations/concerns/weaknesses/faults that plague the others, saves the day and then, often, dies in the arms of the cutest guy. There are even “Mary Sue Litmus Tests” available online, which are rife with the most hilarious questions (especially if you’ve read a lot of fanfic), such as “is the character’s name a name you really like? Extra points if it’s Raven” and “Are the character’s eyes a color which is found in nature?”***
Anyway, apparently it’s gotten to the point in SFF land to call “Mary Sue” on a character who has any kind of special power (dude, isn’t that why we’re writing stories about them in the first place?) or who isn’t phenomenally screwed up, or who is liked by anyone in the book at all. Which, unfortunate. Anyway, read the piece.
Watched two movies in the last two days. Both sucked. One was Code 46, which seemed right up my alley, but ended up making no sense whatsoever. It’s the near future, and everyone needs these very specific time-sensitive documents to travel anywhere and the cities all have massive border control and everyone else lives outside the city. Oh, also, cloning and in vitro fertilization had previously been such a problem that there was a widespread “inbreeding” panic and now there’s a law called “Code 46″ which says that you can’t have sex anyone who may be genetically related to you. Which I suppose means you’re supposed to get screened before you get busy. Also, there are these viruses you can take which give you special powers or limit your behavior. Oh, and if that isn’t enough, they also have supercool new technology that regrows fingers and alters memory.
Anyhoo, Tom Robbins travels from Seattle to Shanghai to investigate someone who is smuggling out these time-sensitive documents that you seriously need for every single aspect of your existence. But that’s just a MacGuffin. Really, he’s there to meet and have a whirwind affair (depsite the fact that he’s married and has a kid) with Samantha Morton, improbably playing someone named “Maria Gonzalez”, who, although she never does her (practically shaved) hair or puts on makeup or wears anything other than shapeless factory-worker clothes, is apparently the type of girl who goes in for a full on Brazilian bikini wax (yes, I know this, becuase we get to see all of her lady bits). And there are all these ENDLESS shots of her walking in slow motion through subway stations and airports, and long lingering shots on some random dude singing karaoke in a bar. The movie was 90 minutes long. Felt like 200.
***SPOILER WARNING*** (mouse over to read)
Well, with a name like Code 46, I bet you know what happens. Turns out these two are related. As a Code 46 violator (not sure how the gov’t found this out), Morton is forced to have an abortion, has her memory altered to erase Robbins, and gets this handy dandy little “virus” that makes her dread the touch of anyone she shares genetic material with (see, because they now think she’s an incestophile) and, what’s more, makes her slip into a trance and report it if she does manage to commit another Code 46 violation. Which means there’s a really weird “rape” scene in which Robbins has to strap her downa nd hold her while she alternately screams in pain and insists she loves him. (Why she loves him, I don’t know, because she’s had her memory of him erased.)Then she reports it. How she manages to report it I don’t know, becuase it was previously established that after he came and rescued her from the government, they were kind of on the run and had to go live on the “Outside” in the shanty towns where the government couldn’t get them. Indeed, at the end of the movie, Morton chooses to stay on the outside, where she won’t be punished or have her memory erased, while Robbins chooses to have his memory erased and goes back to his wife. She even says “they don’t care what happens ‘outside.’” So why do they come after them once they leave? It’s a mystery.
***End Spoiler Warning***
So that was the first movie. The other one was Rumor Has It, which I probably should have just listened to my friend Anna, who swore I’d hate it. It started out pretty good — it’s about the family that were supposedly the inspiration for the book and movie, The Graduate. And I have to say that I really believed Shireley MacLaine as the grown-up Mrs. Robinson, and I actually like Kevin Costner quite a bit as the grown up Benjamin Braddock. I even liked Richard Jenkins as the much-maligned man that “Elaine” actually marries. It was especially cool because it sort of recast the story so that the characters all had slightly different motivations than seen through the lens of the Graduate fiction,a dn they got to give their own version of events, and you could see how some of it was “true” and some wasn’t.
But the movie was baffling. I guess to make the ages work, they had to set it in the early 90s (because they didn’t want “Elaine’s” daughter to be more than 30), though aside from a few references to Clinton and dot-coms, there was literally nothing in there that was remotely 90s. The fashions weren’t, the hair and makeup wasn’t, the cars and decor and wedding clothes really weren’t! Don’t even get me started on the cell phones! And then there’s this scene where Jennifer Aniston wakes up in Kevin Costner’s bedroom and on his bedside table, he has a picture of himself with Clinton, and a picture of himself with FIDEL CASTRO. On his bedside table.
And Jennifer Aniston’s character bugged the hell out of me. Is it a requirement now that the “job” they give romantic comedy characters is “writing obituaries for a newspaper?” How many romantic comedy characters is that now? I can count three off the top of my head. And then there was the romance. I guess there was supposed to set up this pattern — “Elaine” left her husband and ran off with Kevin Costner before returning and settling down, so they had this whole thing with Jennifer Aniston doing it too (this is not a spoiler, it’s the point of the movie), but I’m sorry, if I’m cutey-patootie Mark Ruffalo, and a rich lawyer in New York, and, to top it off, very sweet and loving and supportive and ready for commitment, and my so-called fiance refuses to tell her family that we’re engaged, treats me like crap, steals my anachronistically small cell phone to run off to San Francisco and have a very public affair with a man twice her age who also slept with her mom and grandma, and then she comes crawling home with the oh-so-romantic apology of “I can live without you,” (especially after he overheard her grovelling to her lover for a far lesser offense for like ten minutes about how handsome and fabulous and what a great lay he was) — yeah. Plenty more fish in the sea, Mark. PLENTY.
Maggie Stiefvater, who once made waves online with her “I just don’t get romance” post and then a year later sold a big fat werewolf romance to Scholastic (releasing this fall!) has put up a very thought-provoking post furthering her thoughts on love and romance. I think it’s safe to say that Maggie’s opinions on the matter have shifted somewhat in the past year and a half. However, I don’t agree with her current thesis that large gestures don’t work, and only by writing around romance do you get romance. (Updated to add: Maggie has amended herself to “earned” big gestures, which I agree with absolutely — see below.)
For instance, the scene in The Village that she points out as an example of a “small gesture” of love is, in reality, anything but. Here we’ve got Joaquin Phoenix’s character, as stoic and silent as ever a character was, finally breaking through after half a movie’s worth of teasing and being told he’s in love for the “things he refuses to do” and revealing a concrete example of his love — GRABBING her hand, not “refusing to catch her” which she claims he’s done for years. Then he admits in a moving, impassioned, grand speech a few scenes later:
“Why can you not stop saying what is in yours? Why must you lead, when I want to lead? If I want to dance, I
will ask you to dance. If I want to speak, I will open my mouth and speak. Everyone is forever plaguing me to speak
further. Why? What… good is it to tell you you are in my every thought from the time I wake? What good can come
from my saying I– I sometimes cannot think clearly, or- or do my work properly? What gain can rise from my telling
you… the only time I feel fear as others do, is when I think of you in harm? That is why I am on this porch, Ivy
Walker. I fear for your safety above all others. And yes… I will dance with you on our wedding night.”
These things work in tandem with each other. We believe the impassioned speech and we thrill at the big hand grab because of the small gestures that lay the groundwork. And those small gestures all build up to what romance fans like to call “the gut punch moment”: the declaration, the realization, the proposal or the reconciliation, or the love scene, the kiss on the dock in the rain or the “you pierce my soul” letter or “I know” before being lowered into carbonite or any of the thousands of grand gestures that leave the audience breathless and elevated in every romance ever told. You need ‘em both. You need ‘em all.
Shanna Swendson actually has an excellent seriesof posts on this, in which I think she gets to the heart of why “you complete me” doesn’t really work (for Maggie and me, at least). It’s not that it’s the “big gesture” — it’s that it’s the big gesture without the small one. Tom is a shit to Renee, who loves him because, I don’t know, he’s got some kind of idealistic outlook on life that attracts her? His last-minute realization that she actually is worthy of his affection, and not just her kid, is false and hollow, because no “small gestures” accompany it. In fact, the “you complete me” shot is even cropped so that you can’t see Tom is doing the sign language for it as well, which would be a sign that he at least PAID ATTENTION to something Renee showed him once upon a time. Shanna’s point is all about romantic comedy filmmakers focusing on these big gestures without the small ones, or thinking that if you line up the right order of events and a big misunderstanding, you’ll wind up with a romance.
Maggie’s other point is an interesting one, about how the reader is dying for two characters to make a romance happen, and that is, I think, why filmmakers can get away with crap like 27 Dresses and, to an even greater extent, Prince Caspian. Hey, look, we have two attractive people who are not related to one another in this film. Let’s put ‘em together! People will buy it. We don’t have to work on that.
Ugh.
I am always surprised by the attempts made to ’ship my characters. After Secret Society Girl, people were all after a romance between Malcolm and Poe. Lately, I’ve been hearing rumblings about one between George and Jenny, which, I’m sorry, is about as likely to happen as Malcolm and Poe. But the point is that people like it when characters fall in love. But that doesn’t mean that storytellers should just go ahead and toss any old random people together, Because then you end up with, well:
WRONG! Ewwwwwwww…..
Now, this can get a little sticky, because I’m also a huge believer in following chemistry, which is, of course, indefinable. Some people may see massive chemistry between two characters where others don’t. I don’t know how much chemistry the actors in Prince Caspian might have had to whoever made that stupid, stupid decision, but there certainly wasn’t enough to overcome the canon of “eww” that accompanied their romance. I never found there to be any chemistry between the leads in the short-lived TV series Moonlight, which probably accounts a lot for why I found the show lacking. But other people completely loved that romance. On the other hand, I applaud show runners like Rob Thomas for following the chemistry of Logan and Veronica to its natural and delicious conclusion on Veronica Mars. I really don’t think they imagined a romance between those two, but when it became clear that she and Duncan were flat as pancakes on screen, while she and Logan crackled like summer lightning — well, where do you go?
And different types of romance are necessary for different characters. For instance, Maggie derides “common interest” as a reason for romance, and yet, in some cases, it’s why we are rooting for two characters, particularly in stories where you meet each character on their own long, long before they ever encounter the other. I still remember my first reading of Lord of the Rings. When I got to the part where Eowyn (bless her shield-maiden soul) kicks the Witch King’s enrobed hiney and falls into a magical coma, I remember exclaiming, “No! She can’t die. She must live and marry Faramir!” Sailor Boy, reading in the next sleeping bag over (we were in a tent in Australia at the time) was all, “Wait, she doesn’t even know Faramir and is in love with Aragorn.” But you can’t fool this romance reader. Eowyn is awesome and all, but Aragorn is a demigod. It was never going to work out. Meanwhile, Faramir is equally awesome, equally noble, equally mortal, and equally in need of someone to try a little tenderness. They needed to live happily ever after and root the orcs out of Ithilien. You knew that they would be perfect for one another when they finally met and a big part of that was their common interest. they were twin souls, serving twin purposes in their respective cities (the young, intelligent, brave noblemen who pushed the leaders of their city to betterness). They belonged together.
So before I wrote SSG, I wrote four romance novels, none of which were published, and one of which received a rejection letter praising my characterization and writing, but regretting the lack of , well, romance. Ah well, I was still learning the ropes. And perhaps the editor in question didn’t find my romantic gestures (grand or otherwise) as romantic as I do. For instance, I find it profoundly romantic that Poe saved the mouse because Amy said she liked it. I like even more that she doesn’t find out about that for months and months. Now, not a lot of people think of mice as romantic, so…
Right. My point was…something. It was that I wasn’t such a huge success at writing romance novels, but I wrote novels that were not shelved as romance novels and received heaps of reviews praising what RWA likes to call the “romantic elements” of my books.
The last three books I’ve written have been more blatantly romantic than the first two. In Rites of Spring (Break), Amy’s love life goes front and center in the plot line, and I remember half-joking with my romance writer friends that the structure of the story maps to a romantic suspense. Rampant, killer unicorns aside, is a love story. And those of you who have read the first chapter of Tap & Gown in the back of ROSB know that the question of Amy’s spring break romance looms large. But those were vastly different projects, in both conception and execution. In SSG, I had a very different denouement to the love story in mind, but those two crazy kids were like magnets. So I just went with what felt natural — though actually, ridiculous chemistry aside, it took a whole book to make it work in any rational manner (and their trials aren’t over, because these two have a HUGELY rough row to hoe if they really want to date). In Rampant, I had always intended on a love story to get in the way of Astrid’s duty, but I had to “cast” her love interest several times before I had the right kind of chemistry. The first time, he wasn’t interested in her. The second time, she wasn’t interested in him. But then I landed upon Giovanni, and they clicked, and it was gorgeous. It was also really interesting to write, because Giovanni is a markedly different kind of hero than any I’ve written before, and way, way different than Jamie. Oh, Giovanni. I’m a little bit in love with him.
Yes, I just finished writing a big scene between Astrid and Giovanni for KU2. Why do you ask?
Unfortunately, I can’t really talk about their “small gestures” vs. “big gestures” or “common interests” though their romance is the one on my writerly mind, because no one has read that book yet and I am spoiler-averse and it’ll be months and months (and months and months and argggggggh… don’t mind the crazy author in the corner). But I can talk about Rites of Spring (Break) — look away if you have not read the book yet. Look perhaps, to this page, and order yourself a copy (my shameless plug of the day) — and mouse over white text to read ROSB spoilers:
In ROSB, we’ve got this slow-burn romance going on for the first half of the book, but I keep it on the DL, even from the narrator. She has no idea what I’m doing to her. In fact, she’s under the mistaken impression that I’m getting her together with some other guy. Poor girl. Meanwhile, Poe keeps popping up, starting in the first chapter, and showing that the events of Under the Rose have permanently changed their relationship, and that a lot of their antagonism is more based on the fact that they are used to it, rather than actual negative feelings or even disagreements. In fact, they are pretty much on the same page — they have the same sense of duty about the society, the same concerns and insecurities about their future, etc. Who knew? (Ahem. me.) The events are a prelude, meant to disarm and discomfit her around him. Long looks, tete-a-tetes, and odd moments of tenderness — none of which add up to anything taken on their own, but set the stage for Amy’s upcoming “duh” moment, which happens when Poe, after saving her life, drops her off at the cabin. “Big gesture” alert: Amy looks out the window and what should she see? Poe pacing in front of her cabin, undecided between coming back and saying — something, but what? — to her, and leaving, letting things stay as they are.
Unbeknownst to Poe, his indecision is moot. Amy instantly grasps what he would be saying were he to come back, and knowing that is enough to change things. Poe likes her.
And really, knowing is half the battle. Because Amy? Not so much with the pretending. She can’t go back to her former antagonist relationship with him. Not given what she knows. So she needs to confront Poe either way: tell him no way is that shit going down, or okay, you’re cute, let’s make out in the sand. (Which they do — “big gesture again”.)
The interesting thing about how their relationship played out, though, to me, is that the power dynamic was not what I expected. Adolescent understanding of a power dynamic is that the person who knows how the other person feels is the one with the power. (This is why you kept your crushes a secret in high school.) Amy knows Poe likes her, therefore, she should be the one in control. And she is for about one chapter. It’s in her hands if things go any farther — if they have a date, if they kiss. After that, the power shifts rather dramatically, and I wasn’t expecting it, though I felt that, in the end, it made for a much more mature romantic storyline. Poe wasn’t going to be embarrassed to be “discovered,” as Malcolm was sure he would. He was going to own it.
I remember seeing an interview with Kristen Stewart, where she was talking about her vision of Bella in the Twilight movie, and how she had the power in that relationship because there was no question of what she wanted; Edward might be torn, but she knew. She wanted to be a vampire and to be with Edward. Well, Poe wanted to be with Amy, and once he thought there was a chance of that happening (which he didn’t back at the cabin, but with the date and the making out, well, he went for it), he had all the power. The power of conviction and of clarity. Yes, he could still be rejected, he could still be hurt by her, but there is a core of strength to honesty that can’t be touched by those things, and it’s a core that Poe hadn’t often had a chance to display in the series. He’s sneaky and manipulative, but not, apparently, when it comes to love. And it trumps any card that Amy attempts to play. I really, really liked that. He could be a deeply flawed person and he could even be wrong about their relationship, but he was absolutely forthright about his own feelings, and that’s incredibly powerful, especially compared to Amy’s wishy-washiness. Honestly? She didn’t stand a chance. He had to be rewarded for such a big step for his character, though also in keeping with his character, who despite his manipulative nature, is very blunt honest and dedicated. And those were all small gestures, but together, they were a tidal wave.
But because of that, in the end, Poe didn’t have to do a lot of “winning” of Amy, and it was Amy who had to go to Poe’s house for the big romantic gesture and reconciliation. And, if I’ve accomplished my goal, you believe her (and Poe believes her, which is a more difficult prospect) because of all her small turning points coming up to that — how she looks for Poe, and thinks of Poe, and is deeply, deeply, fundamentally hurt when she thinks Poe doesn’t trust her — which hurts even more because of how nakedly honest he’s been to her– so hurt she makes herself vulnerable to Darren. That what is going on here is something more than gratitude, and might need to be explored.
Which brings us up to Tap & Gown, where the story is far from over.
I feel that I’ve perhaps wandered far from the original purpose of this post, but what can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic. I love it all, the character perfection and the gut punch moments and the big romantic gesture and the tiny, infinitesimal moments that add up to a love story.
4. Figuring out the correct usage of “each other” versus “one another” because according to Tap & Gown copyedits, I never, ever, ever get it right.
5. How I Met Your Mother. Seriously, it’s become comfort food in our house, We watch it all the time.
6. Figuring out what else I can make with my food processor.
7. This animation. I miss World of Warcraft, which I haven’t played since August and which I now can’t play on my computer, because I don’t have enough space to download the patches, let alone upgrade to Wrath of the Lich King. Also, this story utterly rocks! Oh, would that I had the power to create visual art as gorgeous as this…or, you know, at all.
I’ve been off my computer and off the internet for the past week. It’s actually been quite a freeing experience. The last month was an incredibly stressful one, professionally, so removing myself from the merry-go-round/echo chamber/take-your-pick was actually quite relaxing and recharging. I’ve been able to think quite a lot about my work, especially the second killer unicorn book, which is shaping up nicely. I don’t really talk about it much on the blog, but that’s primarily because nothing i say will make sense to people who haven’t even read the first one. There are more killer unicorns.
(In passing, the winner of the box o’ books giveaway is LIVIANA.)
I’ve also been able to reflect some on the year that’s passed, which I had not taken stock of in the slightest. This has been a huge year for me,and one in which I’ve always, always been playing catch up. I have never not been behind in some major way. I hope to change that pattern next year.
So, 2008…
On January 1st, Sailor Boy and I left for a research trip to Europe. It was a miserable trip. SB was sick for the first half of it (like, “perhaps we need to find a hospital here in Naples” sick) and I got an unrelated illness by the end of the trip, resulting in the most uncomfortable plane ride of my life (I begged him to put me out of my misery the entire way back over the Atlantic, during which my ears did not pop in the slightest), and two weeks of “in bed, do not want to get up” abject misery. Scene from my birthday, which occurred a few weeks after:
SB: What do you want to do for your birthday?
Me: (sniffling) Um, get me some nice takeout and a very special movie from Netflix?
It was BAD.
However, I don’t regret the trip. The research I was able to do for Rampant brought the book alive in a way I hope shows up on the pages. Location scouting, man. It’s a blast. It’s actually quite funny to look at these pictures now, since I spent so many months putting them into a book. On one level, I know this (left) is the cloisters at the Basilica of San Giovanni in Laterano, the cathedral of Rome, but in my heart it’s the Cloisters of Ctesias, which in Rampant is actually just down the hill. Discovering this cloisters, especially given how many in-cloisters scenes I’d already written, was a truly incredible gift. It was like seeing my book come alive. The second great discovery of the trip was Cerverteri (pictured above). I’d already planned on setting a big scene there, but visiting it gave me the ability to interact with the setting a good deal more and really dig in there
Sadly, a research trip was unnecessary for book 2.
I got better by the end of the month, and flew to Florida for a writing retreat with TARA, whereupon I discovered a bit of a mix-up between when I thought my next book was due and when my editor did. Cue panicked fevered writing and editing for the next three months. (I also managed to squeeze a NINC conference in there somewhere.)
I finished up just in time to attend another writing retreat, this one with my critique partner Carrie Ryan. Lots of drinking with Kresley Cole and Amanda Brice ensued. (No wonder Sailor Boy doesn’t trust that I work at these things!)
On a personal note, SB and I spent a good amount of time that spring looking for houses. No luck.
And, just like that, it was summer. Summer, the relaunch of my website, and the release of Rites of Spring (Break). I did three signings (one with Nora Roberts!), and had a lot of fun with my promotional Rose & Grave tattoos. Reviews of the book were generally good, and I made a best of summer list with none other than Salman Rushdie. My favorite part, however, was seeing all the comments appearing on the ROSB discussion page. This book was a huge turning point in the series, and I was pleased to see it connect with so many readers. I also got my first fan art.
Also, I got to see my first two foreign editions released, as Secret Society Girl came out in Russia and Brazil.
In July, Sailor Boy and I found a house. More whirlwind, as we barreled toward closing and all that entailed (finding a mortgage, home inspectors, packing, moving, etc.) compounded by the fact that SB was studying for his bar exam.
July 29-30: SB takes exam.
August 1: Close on house.
August 2: Leave for honeymoon.
August 15: Return from honeymoon, move into house.
During this time, we also managed to get ourselves a puppy, whom we picked up on August 17. Of course, you all know and love Rio, the ersatz star of this blog. I can’t believe how big she’s gotten since this picture was taken. Of all the amazing, extraordinary things that have happened to me this year, I really think the addition of this dog into my life tops the list.
Anyway, back to work. As the whirlwind of house and puppy-acquisition drew to a close, I threw myself into finishing up Tap & Gown, the last SSG book. I felt so nostalgic about the characters, I started the secret story project. I received the cover of my first YA. I received the cover of T&G.
I did a LOT of dog-walking.
With the fall, came the election, and I grew obsessed. I practically lived on fivethirty-eight.com. I settled into our new neighborhood, SB settled into his new job, Rio settled into life as a pampered puppy. I also got sick. Very, very sick. So sick that I tore a muscle in my ribs coughing. Twice in one year. I’m apparently a sickly person. SB and I had our first anniversary around this time, too, and I was well enough to go out for that.
Two couples close to me had babies. I did revisions for Tap & Gown and first pass for Rampant. I received the ARCs of Rampant. December rolled around, and life settled in enough for SB and I to buy some furniture and start really getting the house set up (it’s an ongoing project). We chose a design aesthetic and are slowly incorporating it into all elements of our home.
My family came for Christmas. Rio turned 6 months old on Christmas Day. I spent an entire week cooking. No, really, the whole week. Now my family is gone (sniff) and I am planning out my next few months of writing, spending quality time with SB, and cuddling Rio.
So that’s my year in review. Personally, it was a huge one: new house, new family members, major lifestyle changes. Professionally, it was more of an even keel. I didn’t sell any new contracts (a few foreign rights sales, though), though I did write two books and see three releases. This is the first year in a while there hasn’t been a major turning point in my career. In 2005, I sold my first book. In 2006, I saw my first release. In 2007, I sold my second and third contracts, one of which was my first YA. 2008, professionally, has been more about transitioning into a mature career – no longer a debut,no longer a sophomore effort — as well as gearing up for 2009: my first YA release, the conclusion of my first series, my first year with two book releases.
In terms of art consumption, I have to admit I’ve been generally more impressed with my television watching experiences than my book reading. The first half of the year was generally disappointing in terms of reading. I read a few historical romance novels I really liked (The new Madeline Hunter, the Sherry Thomas debut), which was great and renewed my interest in them (I’d been growing a little bored with historicals recently that weren’t also paranormal like Colleen Gleason’s series or Libba Bray’s). But I also read a bunch of hugely hyped books that were a let down. This fall, I hit a great streak of fabulous YA novels: Disreputable History, Gamer Girl, the Hunger Games, and Graceling, and 2009 is going to be awesome on that front, I just know it! (Mostly because I’ve read a lot of the books already.) I think in 2009, I’m going to have to go back to keeping a list of books I read, because I honestly can’t remember a lot of what I’ve read this year. Sailor Boy and I bought season tickets to a local theater, though the shows we’ve seen so far have been mostly duds, with the pleasant exception of THIS BEAUTIFUL CITY, a “documentary musical” about the evangelical Christian community in Colorado Springs. But my favorite art this year have been the TV shows: How I Met Your Mother, The Wire, Dexter. Movies? Eh. I’m having a hard time even remembering movies I saw this year. I liked Wall-E well enough, but it was no Incredibles. It’s hard to love a movie where you spend 75% of the time thinking to yourself, “If they kill this little robot, I’m going to march up to Pixar and slap John Lasster right in the kisser.” There’s emotional manipulation (with which I am more than familiar) and then there’s emotional manipulation. To be honest, I think my favorite was the documentary of the making of the Cirque de Soleil/Beatles show, LOVE.
So that’s it. My year in review. It was a very challenging, very busy, very life-changing, very fulfilling year. I enjoyed it a lot, and I’m really looking forward to 2009, in which:
I turn 30.
Barack Obama becomes the President of the United States
I finish my office
Rampant is released
Tap & Gown concludes the Secret Society Girl series
Rio turns one
I write a book I’ve been excited about for a long time but haven’t had the chance to devote time to yet
As for goals… well, you just saw two of them. There are others, and other tentative plans, but they aren’t blog-ready yet.
A busy day here, which is why this blog is so late. Woke up this morning to find out that my adorable, perfect puppy has graduated into the full throes of adolescence. I was out the door at 7 a.m. this morning, by which time, she had already:
peed on the floor, which she hasn’t done in months! (In point of fact, she peed on my favorite Yale shirt, which, to be fair, I left on the floor, but still!)
eaten one of Sailor Boy’s socks
jumped on Sailor Mom’s head
squeezed herself underneath the fence and run out into the street
And when we told her to “come” she sat there and blinked at us, which I believe is the adolescent puppy equivalent of rolling her eyes. The vet warned us this would happen, but I didn’t believe her. Not my Rio! Not the pride and joy of her puppy school class!
Oh crap, brb. She’s eating my slipper.
What? I’m, like, totally obedient, Mom! Whatever. It’s so unfair!
And this just before my folks come to town, too, toting their perfect one year old sheepdog. I was hoping to impress them with my well-behaved pup. Instead I will try to impress them by restraining myself from throttling her.
Bleh.
So anyway, was up in Annapolis today. I love it there. So pretty! We ate lunch down by the pier. Oysters and crab and flounder and shrimp. Yum! Almost made me forget how mad I am at Rio.
In other news, I saw a fascinating blog post the other day at Curiosity Shop, about the theme of choices/romance/feminism in a lot of YA literature. Martha writes:
“[It] is an underlying theme in a lot of teen books, since it’s a big teen concern–choosing who to be, how to live life, how to be independent. But my fall reading has very much been about characters whose main conflict is the choice between being true to themselves, following their dream or passion or being in love. I’m so glad that there are these books for teen out there. They are important, because they show that it’s not all about the boy (or girl, if the protagonist is a boy).”
This is a theme that very much concerns me, too, and has been a central issue in almost every book I write. It is, in fact, a central issue in most romance novels, especially the ones I really like. The difference is that the genre constrictions of modern (by which I mean “shelved in bookstores as”) romance novels requires what the romance folks call “a happy ending,” by which they mean that the two central characters “end up together.”
Which in turn requires romance novels (well, at leas thet kind I like) being written so that being with the boy is also the way in which the character is most true to herself/ or she can be with boy AND achieve her goal (or same, genders reversed).
The other day, I was watching You’ve Got Mail, and it occurred to me (in a way it did not when I watched the movie as a teenager), that the reason for the long interlude between the closing of Meg Ryan’s store and the happy romantic ending was so that the audience could realize that Meg’s life was not over because she failed in her stated goal of keeping her mother’s store open. That sometimes, your life takes a path different from what you expect, and you are thwarted in one direction, but you grow from that experience and find new happiness. Meg did in fact lose her little store (hope that’s not a spoiler for anyone) but all her former employees became star salesmen at the big box superstore and Meg herself is first offered a job as an editor and decides eventually to write books (and you see that she has a flair for writing from the very start). Also, she gets to keep her stunning apartment that New Yorkers only live in in the movies. Score.
If she lost her store, was crushed by Tom Hanks, and then went off into the sunset with him right away, there would always be this part of you going “What? You can’t be with him! He ruined your life!” For me, the happy ending is not necessarily the romantic one. I like it when the girl (or boy) saves herself (or himself) and then gets the boy (or girl, or boy, or vampire, or etc.) Happy romantic ending without happy “other goal” ending is not satisfying to me, though happy “other goal” ending without happy romantic one works for me just fine. (cf. Casablanca, which a very good, NYT bestselling romance writing friend tells me she will never watch because she heard it “didn’t have a happy ending.”
This is why I don’t write “shelved in bookstores as” romance novels. Because my books don’t necessarily end with the girl getting the guy, though they do end (so far) with the girl getting what it is that she wants. And sometimes, that involves NOT getting the guy (as in Under the Rose).
I’ve been seeing a lot of reactions to Graceling (one of my fave books of the year) that show dissatisfaction with the romantic ending of the book (I’m really not going to spoil it for you). I’m not sure why. Maybe my standard for “happy romantic ending” differs from other people’s, as I know my standard for “happy ending” differs from a lot of romance readers. The romance in that book really worked for me, not least because the dude’s name was Po. But, again, I think that Rick had it right in Casablanca: Sometimes the problems of the world are much bigger than two crazy kids, and sometimes, love doesn’t work out, and sometimes that’s a good thing. It’s not a tragic ending a’la Nicholas Sparks. It’s great.
The most common question I get about the secret society series (after “Were you ever in a secret society?”) is “Who is Amy going to end up with?” My response is “Why do you think she is going to end up with anyone?” Amy is 22 years old at the end of the series. She just graduated from college. I may have been dating my eventual husband at that time, but I sure as heck didn’t think I was, and I bet the vast majority of people in Amy’s situation are not going to marry their college sweethearts.*
Whether or not she “ends up with” someone (in the immediate sense of “is she in a relationship on the last page of the last book”) was not, to own the truth, soemthing I thought about too much as I was planning the series. I was more interested in where Amy “ended up with” regarding herself and the society.
I guess this is rather rambling, My general point is yes, I’ve read all the book that Martha is discussing, and I loved the way the romantic themes were handled in each one, and it’s something I think about a lot in my own work, so great post, Curiosity Shop!
Oh, and in honor of said post, today’s giveaway is ALANNA: THE FIRST ADVENTURE, which is the first in the Song of the Lioness Quartet, by Tamora Pierce. I love this series, though I totally read it out of order. After I told someone I was calling the killer unicorn book RAMPANT, they said to me, “Oh, like Tamora Pierce’s book?” So I rushed out to get hers (It’s actually called LIONESS RAMPANT, which was even more terrifying to me, since “lioness” also plays a major part in my book) to make sure that I hadn’t written in ground already covered, and then I was like, “Um, where have these books been all my life, and how come no one, knowing my vast love of Eowyn and Aravis and all things warrior-woman esque, has told me about them before?
So, in case you, too, love strong women and non-traditional romantic stories and have not heard of this series, comment here to enter. You shall thank me later.
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* Though now that I’ve said this, I realize that my mother, my brother, my best friend, and two of Sailor Boy’s best friends are married to their college sweethearts.
Well, the competition was stiff. Between the blogs, we had nearly a hundred entries in the Great Rampant ARC giveaway these past few days. Thank you guys so much for entering, and I hope that we can do another one in the future. Perhaps with the hardcover.
And for those of you who didn’t win, never fear! Everyone signed up for my newsletter gets a prize today, one that I shall be sending out forthwith. (What a lovely word, forthwith. It should be utilized more often.)
So this weekend I indulged in a lot of R&R (and a little Rx) with Sailor Boy and Rio. (Everyone in my family has a water-themed name but me. ::Pout::) I feel much better. Thank you so much for all the well wishes!
[[Wait, says the savvy reader. She hasn't posted the winner yet!]]
I watched the remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, which had the unintended effect of putting all the songs from the far-superior Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory in my head all weekend. (“I want a party with rooms full of lawf-ter! Ten thousand tonnes of ice crrrream! And if I don’t get the things I am awf-ter, I’m… going…to…scream!”)
Things I liked about the new version:
The fact that the Oompa-Loompa songs were based on the actual songs Roald Dahl wrote in the book, which I now unfortunately realize I have memorized (this is why I have no room in my brain to remember to, say, take the trash out on Thursdays).
The scene where Wonka finds the Oompa Loompas
The casting of the children and their parents
The more faithful rendition of the great glass elevator and the great glass elevator sequence
What I Didn’t Like: (hint: pretty much everything else)
The pacing was way off — slow in places it should be quick and vice versa, there was much less time/indulgence for “magic” and mystery/horror
Johnny Depp’s Michael Jackson act got so tiring after five minutes –I’ll watch him in anything, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
None of the parents seemed overly concerned with the fate of their children. It was all so staid.
Helena “Bellatrix Lestrange” Bonham-Carter should never be cast in a role without edge
What the hell was up with that whole bizarre dentistry subplot? I mean, three cheers for Christopher Lee and all that, but Whaaaa? (Disclaimer: I only read The Great Glass Elevator once, and disliked intensely the character assassinations of the other Bucket grandparents, so this plot may exist in that book and I just don’t remember it.)
I wonder if I would have liked the movie more if I didn’t grow up with the wonderful (if less faithful) Gene Wilder version. Interesting. I guess that goes to show you that “faithful” in movies-from-books does not always equal “good.” I far prefer the less “faithful” latter-day Harry Potter films to the slavishly faithful Chris Columbus ones. I prefer the Lord of the Rings movies to the books, because I think they did a great job of cutting out all the crap (and turned Arwen into a character I could actually imagine Aragorn picking over the kickass Eowyn). Then again, though I would have no idea how they could possibly have filmed Prince Caspian the way it was written (which is almost entirely in flashback, as Trumpkin explains the situation to the Pevensies), I was not as big a fan of that adaptation, mostly because the idea of a romance (however chaste) between Susan and Prince Caspian is just gross.
Edmund kicked ass, though. Ah, Edmund, how do I love thee? You are in my triumvirate of adoration for characters whose names start with E: Edmund Pevensie, Elizabeth Bennet, and Eowyn of Rohan. Love love love…
And let us not even get started on the changed ending of The Golden Compass. There’s really only two reasons to watch that movie: Nicole Kidman’s letter-perfect rendition of Mrs. Coulter, and armored polar bears fighting in the tundra.
[[Wait! cries the savvy reader. She still hasn't picked a winner!]]
Also, back to Wonka: the book and the old movie always made me crave candy. This one did not. That’s a point against it, as far as I’m concerned (actually, since the old movie was in part sponsored by a candy company, it makes sense that they would design the movie to make you hungry).
[[And still no winner!]]
Well, I’m off to run errands.
[[Hey!]]
Be back later!
[[Come on!]]
Okay, fine. the winner of the RAMPANT ARC GIVEAWAY is: Jocelyn!
Wow, guys. Pray you don’t get this thing, whatever it is. It’s VIOLENT. I’ve been sick for a whole month now, and every time I think it’s letting up, I relapse.
As such, I’ve not been much with the getting work done, though I’ve read a few books:
The entire John Adams miniseries with Paul Giamatti and Laura Linney
Fifty First Dates
The first five minutes of Walk the Line (then I was quite sure they were about to kill both the dog and the brother and turned it off)
We also gave Rio a bath. She’s almost forgiven us, but that’s probably only because I’ve been sneaking her leftover turkey. She’s so fluffy now. Fluffy and HUGE. Thirty pounds, we’re sure. And five months old. And more beautiful than ever. It’s ridiculous how gorgeous she is. Most dogs go through an awkward adolescent phase. She’s has not. Every time we take her out, people stop us on the street to tell us what a pretty dog she is.
Now, if only she would learn “stay,” she’d be perfect.
Yesterday, Sailor Boy and I raked the yard. Ah, the glories of home-ownership! Now, I’m from Florida, and this is the first year I’ve had a yard and have also lived in a place where the leaves fall. In Florida, if a palm frond falls, we just drag it out to the curb. But we had a ridiculous blanket of leaves in our heavily-treed new backyard. This is what it looked like:
And after we raked it all up, the pile was the size of Nikita, our car. Here’s Rio and me in front of the pile:
Things I learned: How To Use a Tarp to Drag Leaves To Your Curb. No, seriously, is this how northerners spend all their autumns? John Adams totally did not do this, did he?
You like my blue fuzzy fleece? I think it makes me look kind of like Grover, but it’s windproof, so I adore it beyond all rationality. Because you see, the other glory of home ownership is paying for your own utilities. I have become a lover of all things fleece.
Ugh, four more months of cold weather. Can I just hibernate now?
Though, despite the winter weather, I am happy. Thanksgiving was a whirlwind, what with all of the traveling across state lines to visit family and meet brand new infant nephews and all. I had my own private moment of thankfulness this morning, as I lay in bed (wearing fleece, though not my Grover jacket) and listened to the rain patter on the windows of my house — my own home! — with my wonderful husband asleep beside me, and my adorable puppy (who can finally be trusted in bed with us!) asleep on my legs. I am a lucky, lucky woman.
She graduates from puppy school with flying colors (doesn’t like her cap, though.)
I am seriously considering using this photo as a tag for Tap & Gown announcements.
Bad things about having a puppy:
Her tail caught Pantalaimon’s cord today and dragged Pan off the coffee table. Pan survived (thank goodness!) but the cord did not. Hello, trip to the Mac store. Hello new $83 dollar cord. Wah.
Speaking of T&G, I’ve been asked to hold off on posting the cover until we get a few minor tweaks in. But I really love it, and I hope you will too.
In writing news, I’ve finished up the synopsis of the second killer unicorn book and I’m jumping into 70 Days of Sweat with both hands on my keyboard. Are you signed up? Come join us!
The weird thing about book publishing is that the author is always a book or two ahead of her readers, so if you’re writing a series, you always have to remind yourself that whatever you are thinking of is not where the story is for most people. For instance, I’ve finished writing Tap & Gown, and it’s so difficult to not mention the fact that in the final book in the series, Amy has a sex-change operation and runs off with Jenny, while George drops out of school to open a hot dog stand and Poe starts a ska band. These are the types of things I always have to remember to keep under wraps.
And of course, no one has read Rampant yet. so as I struggle to help the characters deal with the aftermath of the events in that book (as they pertain to the second, still-untitled book), there’s so much I can’t really talk about on the blog, for fear of causing spoilers.
The weather was gorgeous this weekend, as you can see from the previous post of Rio in the creek, but I’m still suffering from a cold I’m pretty sure i got standing int eh rain at the polls all day last Tuesday, so I spent a lot of time indoors watching movies. And here’s my verdict:
Made of Honor: Yawn. Like, seriously yawn. Maybe this movie was supposed to coast on the charm of “McDreamy” but as I’ve never seen the show, I wasn’t exactly rooting for the womanizing, jobless-rich jerk (reminded me so much of Hugh Grant’s aimless rich boy character from About a Boy, except he actually grows up and is forced to confront his wretched lifestyle over the course of the film) who has been stringing the fascinating, beautiful, hard-working (she’s fixing art on a Sunday!) woman along for ten years,who then goes to great length to destroy her wedding to the fascinating, interesting, fabulous Scottish nobleman who sweeps her off her feet. Wait, I take that back. The woman was a dud, too. What kind of woman has been “dreaming about [her] bridal shower since [she] was five years old?” Her wedding? Okay, fine. But her bridal shower? Are you kidding me? Blecch. The Scotsman can do way better than her. Also, I have a thing about movies where people are supposedly getting married but don’t want to and we’re supposed to root for that person? Blecch. That’s why I loved My Best Friend’s Wedding and am very iffy on this season of HIMYM.
Sex in the City: I kind of fell off watching it that last season, so I wasn’t clear on everything that had been going on, but I liked where they took the story. It felt like a super, super long episode. (REALLY long, I had no idea!) I was kind of surprised Steve cheated, though. I really like where Charlotte’s life has taken her, and I like that they didn’t compromise on Samantha being Samantha. Carrie always kind of bugged me, so this felt no different, and I felt like they wasted Jennifer Hudson yet again. I did love the apartment redesign, though!
Get Smart: I thought it was hilarious. I love Steve Carrell, I’m always impressed by Anne Hathaway, The Rock is fun to watch, and I was a HUGE fan of the show as a child, and felt like they really did capture its spirit (though it was a lot more action packed than I remember the show being –Sailor Boy said the final car chase scene reminded him of The Matrix Reloaded, and it reminded me of the ridiculousness in The Island, but other than that…) I felt like 99 should have put two and two together earlier about the identity of the villain, however.
Iron Man: Sigh. Seriously, what happened? Halfway in, I was positive this was the best superhero movie I’d ever seen. Robert Downey, Jr. was incredible, the script was tight, the special effects were fun, Gwyneth Paltrow failed to annoy me (no, really, I thought she was good), I wanted to marry Terence Howard, and I bow at the feet of Jon Favreau,who obviously knows my cinematic preferences — and then the whole thing fell off a cliff. I honestly do not understand the ending of the film. At all. I watched it again, because that’s how little sense it made to me, and I still don’t get it. I don’t understand how the battery thing could fail at the rate it was and still work as long as it did (or work after being encased in acrylic, but whatever), I don’t understand why the villain didn’t just kill Tony when he had the chance (and let’s not even talk about the stupid Glowing Keychain of Death trope so popular in sci-fi these days — yes, Firefly, I’m looking at you), I don’t understand why if the Glowing Keychain of Death works on some kind of sonic frequency thingamabob (the reason the villain wears earplugs to avoid it) that when it is aimed into a man’s ear who is holding the cell phone, the person on the other end of the cell phone doesn’t also feel the effects. I don’t understand how the villain and hero can catapult themselves in battle through several city streets then up into the air for a big aerial fight, then free fall and still manage to magically land on the roof of the building they originally came from. I don’t understand how a blue death ray blast can safely blow the hero out of harm’s way while simultaneously incinerating the villain, who is standing much farther away from it. I don’t get it. And not in a “I don’t understand how the Death Star can explode without killing all the Ewoks with a nuclear winter” way — in an “I’m watching this and it’s impossible and makes no sense right at the moment that the images enter my ocular cavity” way. It’s bizarre. Jon, baby, what were you thinking?
That was disappointing. I’d heard it was so good, too.
We also got the first season of Mad Men, which I’ve heard only excellent things about. So far, I’m enjoying it (two episodes in) though I can’t stop thinking of Zoe from The West Wing as Zoe from The West Wing, and Connor from Angel as Connor from Angel. I am, however, getting over Saffron from Firefly.
Oh, and in honor of said post, today’s giveaway is ALANNA: THE FIRST ADVENTURE, which is the first in the Song of the Lioness Quartet, by Tamora Pierce. I love this series, though I totally read it out of order. After I told someone I was calling the killer unicorn book RAMPANT, they said to me, “Oh, like Tamora Pierce’s book?” So I rushed out to get hers (It’s actually called LIONESS RAMPANT, which was even more terrifying to me, since “lioness” also plays a major part in my book) to make sure that I hadn’t written in ground already covered, and then I was like, “Um, where have these books been all my life, and how come no one, knowing my vast love of Eowyn and Aravis and all things warrior-woman esque, has told me about them before?
