YA Paranormal Authors

Back at the first of the year

2006-11-25T08:56:00.000-08:00

We will be back at the first of the year with more things to say, books to promote and great YA authors. Enjoy the holidays!!

-Serena Robar

Me, Girls' Life and Seventeen!

2006-09-23T11:32:00.000-07:00

A little love for my upcoming book today! I Was a Teenage Popsicle is due to be released on October 3rd, and it's getting some great promo! On Sunday, September 24th (i.e. tomorrow), go to www.girlslife.com, where Popsicle will be featured on the home page! Follow the easy instructions and you could win a signed copy! And be sure to read GL's rockin' review ("Wanna chill out? A super-cool mix of sci-fi and chick lit, this new novel will get yer blood racing!"). And when you're done there, head over to www.seventeen.com, click on 'funstuff', then 'games', and take the 'Book It' quiz. If you check out as a fantasy/sci-fi reader, Popsicle will be one of the books recommended to you!

Happy weekend, everybody!

Bev

What TV show I've waited to watch and why...

2006-09-15T11:32:00.000-07:00

My very fave is Gilmore Girls, which hasn't resumed yet (grrr), and while a part of me can't wait to dive back into life in Stars Hollow, another part of me is kinda dreading it cuz the show's awesome creator and primo writer, Amy Sherman-Palladino, won't be involved this season. Is anybody else capable of writing the kind of crack dialogue (lines so quick and snappy, it actually sometimes seems as if the speakers are on crack--well, speed, anyway) viewers have become used to? I think not. But I'm reserving judgment.

On the positive side, maybe a new writer will figure out that NOBODY WANTS TO SEE RORY WIND UP WITH LOGAN OR EVEN SPEND ONE MORE SEASON WITH HIM.

Wow, it felt really good to get that off my chest.

Unfortunately, Rory can't get back with Jared Padalecki, because he's on some other show this season (the nerve!).

Oh, and have you heard that one of the GG couples is going to have a baby this season? Better not be Rory and Logan is all I have to say about that. I would have to stop watching. Although that's what I said at the end of last season, when another of my fave shows, Rescue Me, killed off Dennis Leary's kid. (Cheap and manipulative, IMHO.) And yet, here I am, back every Tuesday night at ten.

Any other GG fans out there? Your thoughts? Fears? Lemme know!

Till next time,

Bev

P.S. I Was a Teenage Popsicle's release day is fast approaching--on October 3rd!!!

P.S.S. Girl's Life Magazine is featuring Popsicle on September 24th--go to www.girlslife.com for a chance to win a free copy!

P.S.S. Check out my myspace blog (www.myspace.com/bevkatzrosenbaum) to enter the I Was a Teenage Popsicle casting contest! Just read Chapter One on my website (www.bevkatzrosenbaum.com), then suggest the actress you'd choose to play Floe on my blog or profile page! (G'ahead, you know you want to give it a try! And you could win another free copy!)

The best thing about going back to school...then and now

2006-09-08T12:00:00.000-07:00

Duh, the clothes, of course! The thrill of buying that first day outfit! No matter what kind of budget the folks are on, they'll happily spring for special duds!

I vividly recall my first-day-of-kindergarten ensemble: a new white pique dress worn with an old favorite...a pink mohair cardigan knit by my mother. I also remember a 60s style minidress with a matching cap, worn sometime up the road, and my first pair of bellbottoms--navy blue, with white daisies all over them. (I'm definitely aging myself here!)

Yup, this is what memories are made of, folks--FASHION!

At this point in my life, I'm living the first-day-of-school thing through my daugher. On her first day (of high school--an arts high school!), she wore skinny jeans with black flats and one of those new extra-long waffle weave shirts. She also got a fab rock & rollish layered haircut at a tres hip downtown salon. Ah, to be a teen again!

But while I don't have a first-day-of-school coming up anytime soon, I do have a signing/launch party to get ready for--details to be announced soon! (I Was a Teenage Popsicle is being released on October 3rd!!!) Oh, BTW, if you'd like to try to win some free copies, go to the Girl's Life website (www.girl'slife.com) on September 24th. Popsicle will be featured on the home page and there are easy instructions for entering the contest!

Happy Back-to-School! (Hope you're not too traumatized...)

Bev

My Long and Winding Road to Finding a Writing Style...

2006-09-02T10:16:00.000-07:00

Hmmm. I've had a rather strange writing career to this point. I started out, many moons ago, writing romance novels. The first one was a fairly serious effort. I decided that serious didn't quite suit me, experimented a bit and discovered my natural voice was a funny, chick-litty one, though I couldn't put a name to it at the time, as this was before the term 'chick lit' was coined!

I switched my focus to magazines for a while--until Harlequin came out with the Flipside line--romance with a chick lit voice and short in length, a bonus to the editor in me who loves slashing sentences! I promptly wrote and published a Flipside--and the line was just as promptly cancelled. (It wasn't my fault...I swear!)

But around this time, there were lots of cute, funny (and short!) YA novels appearing on bookshelves (and in my kids' rooms!), so I decided to try my hand at one of those. I wanted to do something really fresh and different, though. Et voila, a book with a cryonics storyline! Now, ideas for fun, chick litty paranormal YAs won't stop coming!

From Serious Romance to wacky paranormal YA...life is indeed a journey, folks! (In case you missed the moral here, it's do what feels right, what comes naturally, and all that jazz...)

Till next time,

Bev

How my writing has changed...

2006-08-30T12:51:00.000-07:00

The question is, how has your writing changed since your first WIP? Tough question. Usually all my books go the same way. I start out loving them, then somewhere in the middle I hate them and am sure I am the worst author who ever lived and will never publish another book again. Then by the time I write THE END I come to peace with the book and realize it's not so bad. In fact, possibly the best book I've written to date.

I think I used to go off on way more tangents. My first book, A Connecticut Fashionista in King Arthur's Court, seems all over the place when I re-read it. And the plot is more episodic. And the hero too perfect. No one grows in the story. You don't know why Kat is how she is--what happened to her in her past that made her the shallow, fashion editor she is today. Therefore you're less likely to care what happens to her. In contrast, I just finished writing the sequel, "A Hoboken Hipster in Sherwood Forest" and I feel the heroine, Chrissy, seems like such a better developed person. I feel the same way about my Boys that Bite series. Sunny does not grow a lot as a person in the first book. In STAKE THAT!, the sequel, her sister Rayne goes through a lot of personal growth. I think this way you end up caring about the characters more.

As whether HOW I write has changed, I'm much more likely to give myself permission to write a crappy first draft. I don't stress over each scene as I'm writing it anymore. I get it down on paper and edit it later. Since I enjoy the editing process much more than the initial writing, this seems to work well for me. In the book I'm working on now, Girls that Growl, I'm going through and writing the scenes I know and leaving open spaces to fill in other scenes once I'm done. Once I see where I'm heading, I think I can more easily layer in the other stuff once I'm done with the main backbone of the book. It's still an experiment, so we'll see how it works.

Mari

Writing Style, then and now

2006-08-30T10:43:00.000-07:00

How does writing style evolve over time? Are you aware of the evolution or is it instinctual? Could it be the more you read or input copy edits the more your brain retains and suddenly, you are writing a smoother, less rocky first draft? Or maybe nothing changes and its still an arduous journey filled with rewrites and frustration until you finally chip and polish it into a workable manuscript?

Personally (and really, this subject is all about the individual) I find I write a smoother first draft with each book. I know my copyedits come back adorned with less blue pencil than the previous manuscript. I'm either improving or the copy editor has had it with slovenly writers and just corrects the major errors. But I doubt that because copy editors are a beast unto themselves. Very anal about most things. I think they sleep with the Chicago Writing Style Manual beneath there pillow. I've heard rumours...but I digress.

I know I write faster now. I prefer to work for long hours of uninterrupted time just emersing myself in the story and letting it flow. Once unleashed, I HATE to be interrupted and pulled away. It can be so hard getting back to that place where things just happen naturally, my fingers flying across the keyboard, trying to keep up with the scenes as they play through my head. This is why I have taken up leaving the house to write. I go down to the local coffeeshop (no, not a Starbucks, gasp). This place has the cute tea tables that are pretty low to the ground and a perfect height for my laptop, so I can type for hours without getting cramps in my forearms and fingers. They play the light music that I ignore and I am the only one who hangs our there for long periods of time. So I am not distracted by conversations around me. 'Cause I loves me some juicy eavesdroppin'.

I hope with each book, I become a better writer. I've read people who don't get better over time. They stay at the same place and as a reader, I want my author to grow. I find I don't buy them anymore and I can't quite place why. Did I hate their last story? No, it was just the same old thing. And that is the scariest thing of all. When your loyal readers look at your next release and say, "Eh".

-Serena

My first place...

2006-08-26T20:03:00.000-07:00

I could (and often did) say it was a charming attic bachelor apartment in a beautiful old stone house in Toronto's lovely, tree-lined Annex neighborhood, in close proximity to the University of Toronto, where I was studying English Literature.

In reality, it was a roach (and mouse) infested room in a broken down rooming house with bad wiring (there were no fewer than three house fires during my tenure). It was furnished with naught but a lumpy bed, (broken) chest of drawers, tiny desk (more like a shelf barely attached to the wall), and bar-sized fridge, all of which came with the place. I tell ya, no amount of orange-beaded macrame wall hangings (courtesy of my older sister) could cheer up this place.

But it beat the hell out of the dorm I'd lived in the year before, which I found totally scary. (All that conformity, all that forced buddiness with people you couldn't stand...all that drinking!) I valued my privacy and independence so much that the firetrap's teensy size and (in retrospect) depressing atmosphere (which, btw, served as a good boyfriend meter--the shallow ones ran away) didn't bother me in the least. Neither did the fact that I had to work--count 'em--three part-time jobs (while taking a full course load!) to make my rent. At last I was free to make my own rules, do what I wanted when I wanted--like eat ice cream in bed (which was also my couch), or watch movies until three in the morning. (I sort of had to, to drown out the sound of my upstairs neighbors going at it all hours of the night!)

Sure, at times it was lonely, but I knew I wasn't the roomie type. Held out there till I got married. (The roomie thing's kinda a given with that deal.) It was in my attic room (have I mentioned the sloping roof upon which I constantly hit my head?) where I learned to be completely independent.

I highly recommend it.

Till next time,

Bev

living on my own

2006-08-25T13:24:00.000-07:00

This is really easy for me, because I just moved out of my mom's in January. I'm living in the dorms at Northeastern State University in good 'ol Tahlequah, OK, and I love it (well, no so much the tiny rooms and microwaved school food, but everything else is good). There are times I miss my puppies (and my mam) so much that I just want to drop whatever I'm doing and drive the 50 minutes it takes to see them. The only part of college life that I HATE (and personally feel I shouldn't have to endure... mom, if you're listening...) is being broke, penniless, poor, my piggy bank hasn't eaten in months, but I try to look on the bright side - I have a bunch of good friends, a decent job, good grades, and a book contract - in 2 years, my life is gonna ROCK!

Until next time...
KC

We're Ba-ack!

2006-08-22T15:34:00.000-07:00

Did you miss us? Things have been crazy around her for the YA writers blog. Actually, I don't know if its been crazy for everyone else. I am souly speaking for myself, but I assume its been crazy for everyone, since no one else has been able to blog. :)

This week's topic is near and dear to my heart because I feel like I have gone back in time. You see, my whole family has moved to an apartment for a couple of months because we sold our old house in anticipation of moving into our dream house. Which we are building. Except, the dream house is a little slow in coming. Fashionably late, as they say. So the new owners of our old house kind of wanted to inhabit it so we found a furnished townhouse for the interim. Chaos ensures. Lots of bodies in a small space. All our things are packed away or misplaced somewhere. No AC and no place to escape each other. An adventure to be sure.

Like most people, the first time I lived on my own, I went to college. The first year was the dorms and an apartment after that. But each summer, I would always come back home to my room. It looked the same. Bed still there, dresser in the same spot. My room. When I moved away after college, mom converted my room into an exercise room. I believe she did it in less than 24 hours. There was no moving back home again. I got the message loud and clear :)

I moved to Seattle from Easter Washington. I slept on the floor for a month before I could afford a new bed (mom wanted the old one for the new spare room). I had a single pan to cook things in and no furniture. My first adult purchase? A tv and VCR. (The bed was a hand me down from a relative who felt sorry for me). Next adult purchase? A futon and tiny kitchen table with chairs. I believe some assembly was required. To put it bluntly, I was poor.

I worked retail in cosmetics wearing a white lab coat (I'll give you three guesses what company that was and the first two don't count) and I barely made ends meet. But I was independant. It was a small one bedroom apartment in a less desirable part of North Seattle but the rent was cheap and it was what I could afford. I had a crappy car that no one would lower themselves to break into so I didn't have that problem, like many of my neighbors.

And now I have come full circle. Except I don't live in a bad part of town and I don't have a crappy car and goodness knows this furnished place ain't cheap but I am again, living on borrowed furniture, in a small place. And I am not alone. Which makes a difference. I don't like to suffer alone (hehe). So share. What was your first place on your own like?
-Serena

MIA

2006-08-01T09:10:00.000-07:00

I will be MIA for the next two weeks as I move my family from one home to a temporary home, only to move them all again when our house is finished. So see ya in two weeks and I will make sure everyone posts photos of Nationals and regales you with stories and amusing anecdotes.

-Serena Robar

National Update??

2006-07-29T05:57:00.000-07:00

The YA paranormal gang is supposed to be posting updates this week from the RWA National Conference in Atlanta. Unfortunately, I'm not able to give you an update because I'm not at the conference for a whole bunch 'o reasons, among them:
a) my kids got home from a month at sleepover camp on the 23rd, and I couldn't bring myself to take off two days later. Not to mention that I had ten loads of laundry to do on the 24th, which arrived with about ten tons of sand along with it.
b) I'm broke.
c) My hubby's crazy busy--he works threee jobs 'cuz I'm a writer--oh, the guilt--and he couldn't take time off as we already have a (much needed) family vacation planned for the end of August.
d) I'm don't write adult books anymore, and even though every one of my YA and MG books have romantic components, I would have felt weird going to a big romance convention.
e) Did I mention I'm broke?
f) I'm exhausted from writing the sequel to I Was a Teenage Popsicle in one month. I'm taking the next couple of weeks to revise it, then I'm sending it off before my (much needed) vacation. It's due in September.
g) Atlanta in July???
h) The broke thing.

One thing I was heartbroken about missing was my agent's big party on the 25th. She lives in Georgia and had a huge bash at her house. I would have loved to meet her, her fab staff, and all my agency sistahs. Oh, well. Hopefully we'll sell tons 'o books this year, and I'll be able to visit her en route to Florida, where I'll take the family as a treat!

Till next time,

Bev

Best School Summer Vacation Ever...

2006-07-22T06:51:00.000-07:00

Those of you who read my posts regularly know I'm a big 'ole drama nerd, so obviously the best summer vacation I had was the one I spent at a renowned theatre camp when I was fourteen.

Well, I didn't exactly spend the whole summer there--I spent three weeks there because the full seven-week period was insanely expensive.

Which turned out to be somewhat of a problem because the majority of 'campers' came for the full session. There were only two of us who came for three weeks, and the staff didn't seem to know what to do with us.

But in good time, Jeff, one of the British-born, RADA-trained staff members (North Americans just weren't good enough for these pampered future thespians!), whipped something up for the two of us to perform together: a show about Sylvia Plath, in which we would recite many of her (angry, depressing) poems.

I think Jeff was over-the-moon to have the chance to do something serious and non-schlocky after spending the previous four weeks rehearsing Guys and Dolls with the seven week campers. (Yes, dear readers, once again, I missed the opportunity to perform in Guys and Dolls. You can read the sad, sad story of my Grade 13 school production in an earlier post...)

So there I was, fourteen or fifteen at the time, pretending to be a very angry (mentally ill) young woman. I'd never read Plath before. It was all very new and very shocking. But I found myself loving it. Being a confused adolescent, I was only too happy to discover someone else had inner demons...and worse ones than mine!

Shannon and I made Jeff very happy. And he, in turn, made us very happy by telling us if we'd both been at camp for the full session, we'd have won major roles in Guys and Dolls.

Sigh...

Till next time,

Bev

Summer Vacation

2006-07-21T05:16:00.000-07:00

I spent every summer hanging out with friends, sleeping, and going to cheerleading practice and camp. Yep, I was a cheerleader. Head cheerleader, to be honest (Go team!)

We spent hours in the hot, hot sun, learning cheers, showing "spirit", and basically sweating a river. By the time we were allowed back into the dorms, we were too tired to break any rules. And when we returned home, it took us weeks to recover.

Ah, that was the life :)

Reviews: The Good, The Bad, and The Just Plain Mean

2006-07-15T04:30:00.000-07:00

Hmmm, this review theme was supposed to run all week, with me going last, which just goes to show nobody except me is stupid enough to talk about their reviews!

My first YA novel doesn't come out 'till October, and I'm hoping there will only be good reviews, no bad or just plain mean ones. But having written a couple of books in my past life as a romance writer (many moons ago and ten years apart, which was a pretty clear sign I wasn't meant to be writing romances), I know that's wishful thinking.

My first romance novel came out before Amazon (if you can imagine), so at least I didn't have to deal with that, thank God! (Now, anybody can post a review--and anyone does. All too frequently, anyone talks a lot of unsubstantiated trash.) The media reviews were generally very good, though many questioned the (large) amount of humor in a supposedly serious romance. (Reason for said humor: I really wanted to be writing chick lit, which, um, didn't exist yet.)

My 2004 romance got mostly very good reviews once again--and this time, nobody questioned the humor. What they did question was the (large) number of secondary characters in the book. In my defense, I can only say I was given one week to revise the manuscript, and one of the things I was asked to do was make it longer. So I did what any freaked out, time-pressed author would do: throw in a whole slew 'o extra characters, which, in retrospect, was A Really Bad Idea.

As for the upcoming I Was a Teenage Popsicle, I'm a little worried. The story is so crazy (in a good way--I think), and it's not half as sleazy and sex-saturated as a lot of the other YA stuff out there (don't worry--there's a lot of flirting and hormonal, um, achiness), not to mention that cryonics buffs (are there such creatures??) are bound to take me to task for any minute scientific errors. (I'll say right now these errors are not minute, they are very large--and purposeful...it's called creative license.)

So please, if you're reading this, take pity on a poor author, pitifully low on self-esteem (who wouldn't be in this business?), and write something nice about her October release on Amazon (or Barnes & Noble, or Chapters/Indigo). If you ever write a book, I promise, I'll return the favor, so that you will only ever have to read good reviews--no bad, ugly, or just plain mean ones!

Till next time,

Bev

Dating4Demons is coming along.....slowly......

2006-07-10T18:56:00.000-07:00

The final book in my teen vampire series is challenging because its coming along very slowly. I am doing a funky first person and third person POV that is proving a bit more challenging than I originally thought.

Dating4Demons will be great but its bittersweet because I am not sure I want to wrap up all the loose ends. After all, do I really want to end my acquantance with Colby, Piper and the gang? I have two new YA book proposals that will be hammered out after Dating is in the can. Neither are a series but stand alone books. Who knows what the future will hold for Psi Phi House?

-Serena

2006-07-09T19:07:00.000-07:00

Mom and I just finished the rewrite on the first House of Night book!!! Right now we're working on Book 2, but we have to do a lot of rewriting (ugh) because of plot element changes, and other lovely action filled scenes like when... wait... I can't tell you!

What I'm Working On

2006-07-09T08:25:00.000-07:00

Right now, I'm working on Beyond Cool, the sequel to I Was a Teenage Popsicle (both featuring cryonically preserved, newly thawed Venice Beach teen Floe Ryan), to be released in August 2007. I'm panicking slightly because my tres busy editor got back to me with her proposed feedback just a few weeks ago, and although the manuscript is not due until September, I pretty much have to have it finished by August, when my kids will be back at home from a month at overnight camp, with relatively little to do and few friends in the city. (Plus, we'll be taking a week-lon family vacation in there somewhere.) So I've put myself on a pretty brutal schedule--twenty pages a day until I complete the manuscript, then a week of revising, which should take me until the end of July. (I'm not at all ticked off about having to work my arse off in July, when my kids are away, oh no...) Let's just pray I don't get a whole lot of freelance work in July (something's weird about not wanting work to come my way) and that there are no family health emergencies...

I was planning to polish a new proposal for my editor and hand it in at the same time as the manuscript, but I fear that's wildly optimistic now. Especially since I'm finding writing a sequel particularly challenging. (That's a nice way of saying frustrating as hell.) How much detail do I include about the previous story? Do I keep secondary characters from the first story or introduce new ones? HELP!!

I'm also waiting to hear about some middle grade series proposals my agent is shopping around. Keep your fingers crossed!

And now, dear treaders, I must away to the computer (when I really want to head to the beach...)

Till next time,

Bev

What I'm working on now...

2006-07-07T14:02:00.000-07:00

I'm actualy working on a pair of books. Young adult alien huntress novels.

Red Handed -- about a high school senior who's taken to a secret bootcamp and trained to become an Alien Investiation and Removal agent. She's taught to fight, to track. . . to kill.

Black Listed -- about a high school senior who is being hunted by the above mentioned agent trainee and must fight for her life. . .

I'm having a blast writing them!

The Breakfast Club!

2006-07-01T07:32:00.000-07:00

Gee, I probably should have checked IMDB before writing The Breakfast Club--I'm not even sure it's a John Hughes movie. But what the heck. If it isn't, it should be. Molly Ringwald's in it, and it's just the perfect teen movie in every way. It's about a bunch of kids stuck together for a day-long (Saturday) detention. There's a jock (Emilio Estevez), a princess (Molly), a delinquint (Judd Nelson), a geek (Anthony Michael Hughes) and a weird girl (Ally Sheedy). At the beginning, they all distrust and misunderstand one another, but over the course of the day, they learn about and start to get one another. Okay, so it's a tad hokey, but the script is so great, my husband and I still quote from it. (And when my hubby falls asleep at work, he still says, 'I pulled an Ally Sheedy today'.) But what really makes this movie a classic is that the characters totally transcend their types. They come off as completely real. Also, the music rocks ("Don't you forget about me...") and the acting's fab. (Aside from the kids, there's the principal and the janitor--and that's it!) Twenty years later, The Breakfast Club is finding a new audience (it's on TV, like, constantly), and today's teens are loving it just as much as the '80s teens did. I think because it gives people hope that everybody can get along, after all, and underneath the facades, we're all just scared, hurt and confused. If you haven't seen it, join the club--The Breakfast Club!
Till next time,
Bev
P.S. I'm so not posting a picture of me from the '80s. I have one, I'm just not posting it. But it's very much like Serena's. Almost identical, in fact. Just with slightly darker hair!

Some Kind of Wonderful is...wonderful!

2006-06-30T12:05:00.000-07:00

Sorry I don't have an 80s pic. My house burned down last summer and every pic of me was pretty much destroyed. (I had my mom's photo albums there because I'd been scanning in the pics.) I never thought until now that was a blessing in disguise. :)

Anyway - on to movies!

I love ALL John Hughes movies except Pretty in Pink which, actually I do love, but also hate, hate, hate the ending! Like, hello?? Molly Ringwald sooo should have ended up with Duckie. DUH! But my absolute favorite John Hughes movie has to be "Some Kind of Wonderful." Because I was always sooo the "Watts" character. Always one of the boys, always in love with someone who chased after the girls he couldn't have. I knew I'd be perfect for him--we were best friends after all--so how come I wasn't good enough? How come he never noticed me?

The scene where Watts bursts into tears in the car alone, while Keith and Amanda Jones are out on their date--it just gets me everytime. Cause I've been there. I know exactly how she feels. And the ending---when she's walking down the street alone and he runs back at her? I cry and get chills every single time I watch it.

If only Molly Ringwald could have taken a lesson from Keith. She might have gotten to date the incredibly loyal, sweet Duckie who would have made it his life's mission to make her happy. Cause really! Do you think she and Andrew McCarthy actually made it more than a week or two after the prom? They had absolutely nothing in common and there was no chemistry between them whatsoever.

No. He'd dump her and take off to Ivy League college and then she'd be left at home with her loser father and the two of them could waste away their existence mourning their failed relationships instead of trying to connect with others who would actually appreciate them for the unique people they are.

Okay, fine, now I've babbled more about why I hate Pretty in Pink than why I love Some Kind of Wonderful. But still - Some Kind of Wonderful really is, well, wonderful! So if you've never seen it, I highly suggest you give it a try!

Marianne

Sixteen Candles

2006-06-29T18:21:00.000-07:00

It's name your favorite John Hughes film from the 80's this week on YA paranormal authors blog and here is my 80's photo. Check out the big hair. The very big hair. The very, very, big hair. Ahh, alot of hairspray and scrunching went into that hairstyle.

For those of you who don't know who John Hughes is, almost every teen movie today pays tribute to him in some way. He was a pioneer in teen films. My favorite is probably Sixteen Candles. Poor Samantha (played by Molly Ringwald) turns 16 and the entire family forgets because her sister is getting married. Sam is just trying to fit in at high school and falls for THE senior Hunk, Jake (Sam is just a measily sophomore). A note that falls into the wrong hands (namely Jake's) brings her face to face with humiliation at every turn and maybe, just maybe, a shot at her dream guy.

If you don't own this classic, run out and rent it today. Make fun of the clothes and laugh along. It's as relevant today as it was twenty years ago.

-Serena

Writing is fine but what I'd really like to do is direct...

2006-06-24T09:18:00.000-07:00

Actually, I prefer the writing side but if I had to choose a second career, I think I would want to be a director. But then I would only want to direct my own stuff so that might be a problem. And I have no experience or training as a director so again, a tiny pothole in the road but that wouldn't stop me. I could work hard and become the next M. Night Shyalaman. Or I could just stick to writing. I think the stress level might be lower and I can work in my pajamas.
-Serena

If I Wasn't a Writer...

2006-06-24T07:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, don't know what's up with the pic today, but whatev. Now back to our weekly topic: if you weren't a writer, what would you be?

Hey, the reason I'm a writer is that I'm unfit for a real job. Seriously. Hate the politics, the forced shmoozing, the sucking up, the meetings, the make-work projects, the routine--everything. I did, in fact, toil at a number of 9-5 jobs before finally throwing in the towel, fearing madness.

So no company stuff If I wasn't a writer, I think what I'd like to do is work in a small, ultra-hip bookstore. (BTW, have you noticed there is a preponderence of such stores on TV, where sitcom characters regularly procure part-time jobs? Do TV writers live in some alternate universe where there are no chain/big box stores?)

I'm a little fuzzy on whether I'd be the manager or a mere clerk, but I don't particularly crave a lot of responsibility at this stage in my life, so clerkdom's fine. (Anyway, this is a fantasy, right?)

The inventory and cash systems in said store wouldn't be overly complicated (I'm techno-deficient), and the store would stock only new books, so as to avoid that musty, second-hand-bookstore smell.

The store (which would be named something cute like Words) would be busy enough to make a lot of money, but not busy enough to cause me stress. And of course, there would always be fresh coffee on hand (which someone besides me would have to make), and a selection of French pastries with which to share with customers. Discussing the merits of chick lit while munching on Napoleons would be highly encouraged by the (absentee) store owners.

Of course, eventually, I might get the idea that it would be more interesting and challenging to actually write books instead of sell them.

Which leads me right back to my current job--the best one in the world!

Till next time,

Bev

Hi, it's me!! (I'm new!)

2006-06-23T18:58:00.000-07:00

Hey, I'm the second half (although most important and beautiful) of the PC and Kristin Cast writing duo. My mam has delegated the blog duties to me because I am wittier and, well, more beautiful - oh, and not old. So, I will be entertaining you here!

Well, the answer to my first blog (this is nerve racking) is that I would be a professional millionaire. How you ask - I'm not too sure which is why I'm still in college and the wittier and more beautiful of the Cast duo.

The End.

Living the Dream

2006-06-23T14:54:00.000-07:00

This is an easy question for Anthony to answer, since he has a full-time job and a part-time job in addition to his writing career - and he's happy with all of it.

Anthony directs the Minnesota Dislocated Worker program, which helps workers who get laid off. Customers can get career counseling, workshops, training, and/or all sorts of other help. It's higly rewarding work because it's a key part of helping folks who thought they'd have the same job their entire lives, keep pace with a new economy where that's just not possible anymore.

Anthony is also an elected City Council member in Hastings, Minnesota. That's good stuff, too - he's helped put together a Historic Car Show twice a month this summer, to bring more traffic to our historic downtown. There's also the boring stuff like zoning and such - but it's all important to the residents, and it makes peoples lives better.

So if Anthony couldn't write for a living (which he doesn't), he'd be fine, though perhaps restless at night.

If MaryJanice couldn't write for a living, she would wither and die. She would then have a fine career as a pile of ashes, suitable for rental at funerals with empty urns and rustic cabins with realistic-looking fireplaces.

(MJ here: we flipped a coin; who would quit and live the dream, and who would keep their awesome state employee benefits? I palmed the coin and won.)

If Writing Wasn't My Thing. . .

2006-06-23T06:55:00.000-07:00

What job would I want if I wasn't a writer? No question --

Towel Girl for HOT -- literally and figuratively -- actors.

Some of my clients could be:
Brad Pitt
The Wilson brothers
Vince Vaughn
Will Ferrell
Matthew Mcconaughey
George Clooney
Jake Gyllenhaul
Colin Farrell
Will Smith
Zach Braff

And right now, at this moment, my number one pick would be: Vin Diesel

If not a writer...

2006-06-21T13:34:00.000-07:00

Yes, Serena is right. We were all blog slackers last week. It happens. I was in Vegas and then in post-Vegas recovery last week. But I am back!

Anyway - what I would want to be if I was not a writer.

I think I'd like to be a magazine editor. For some really trashy mag like People or In Touch. I could go interview Angelina about Shiloh or Paris Hilton about who stole her boyfriend this time around. I'd walk the red carpet and be on first name basis with people who only have first names.

But then again, I hate how the paparazzi treats the stars. How they get stalked. How they get paid to expose famous people's miseries. So maybe that wouldn't be a good idea after all.

Maybe I'd rather be a photographer who travels the world to take photos of amazing things. Like for National Geographic or something. Or the guy who dresses up his dogs in funny clothes and makes photo books. Cause the National Geographic thing would have bugs. And snakes and...other icky stuff. Then again, the guy who dresses up his dogs — isn't that kind of like dog exploitation? What if the Doggie Union showed up, demanding better hours and more squeak toys...

Hmm....maybe I'd be a computer programming genius. Who creates really cool programs that make everyday people's lives easier. Or I could create amazing video games that people (no one in particular, cough, cough) get totally addicted to.

Then again, I think that requires a rudimentary knowledge of math. Ugh. Definitely scratch that off the list.

Ooh, I know. I could create whole worlds and make up characters and tell stories. I could entertain teens and adults by spinning fantastical tales of romance and adventure. I could work in my pajamas and get paid to make up stuff in my head. Now THAT sounds like the perfect job.

Which is, of course, that of a writer.

Yup. I think I'm in the right career for me. :)

Slackers, the whole lot of them, except Bev....

2006-06-18T12:10:00.000-07:00

If you hadn't noticed (and if you read this blog at all, you were bound to notice) several MIA authors these last two weeks. You can always tell when we are on deadline. We disappear. We don't blog, we don't respond to lists, we simply vanish into thin air.

But, we are back. Yes. MJ and Anthony are back from touring the Midwest. I can't wait to hear their war stories from in the trenches. On the booksellers front lines, as it were. I was on deadline for my anthology, Fendi, Ferragamo and Fangs and the prolific Gena couldn't think of a pithy entry. The gal who cranks out book after book has no words on our high school moments themes.

And where was Mari? Well, she was in Vegas last weekend and I believe she has the sequel to her adult time travel "A Connecticut Fashionista in King Authur's Court" due sometime soon. What about PC and Kristen? Well, not sure on that one. I know they are alive and well but probably over extended. We authors do that....Alot.

Anyway, never fear. We are all back this week (well, most of us) and our theme this week is: What job would you want (other than writer)? Should be interesting. I wonder if Lion Tamer is on anyone's list.....

-Serena

My Favorite High School Memory

2006-06-17T06:08:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I wasn't Adelaide in my senior year production of Guys and Dolls (see previous post in which I whined about losing the role due to a staff work-to-rule campaign). And okay, it wasn't such a tragedy. Though if you'd spent three years prior to that doing a hundred weird, experimental dramas (in one I was cast as an 80-year-old man), you might think otherwise.

But despite all the offbeat dramas and the Adelaide fiasco, my favorite high school memories remain theatre-related. Indeed, I was quite the little theatre geek. I'm sure you're tired of hearing I was a shy bookworm back then (with a chronic skin disease, as if I wasn't already full of angst), but it's important to emphasize again what a complete and total bore I was, for whom the theatre represented drama and excitement. How I loved becoming other people, trying on other personalities, other lives! For precious hours, I could escape into other worlds and forget all my own problems.

Oh, and plus, I was really good at it. I have to admit I loved shocking people. Shy little Bev, a star?! Who knew?!

Yeah, I have an ego. One that needs to be assuaged pretty regularly. So? Most performers (and writers) do. We're pathetically low on self-esteem. My shy bookworm background is not at all unusual amongst my colleagues.

Freaks are welcomed with open arms in the theatre world. So if you're junior high or high school aged and feel kind of out of it, I can recommend no better place for you than the drama department. Be sure you're there in September!

Till next time,

Bev

If I could be any TV or movie character...

2006-06-09T19:37:00.000-07:00

Well, this is kind of cheating, but I'm going to pick Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice.

What? It was a movie, too! Two movies, in fact. And just to shock you, I'm going to pick Jennifer Ehle's Lizzie from the BBC version, not Keira Knightly's interpretation from the Hollywood version. Not because I think Keira is a bad Lizzie; it's just that her Lizzie is all youthful exuberance, attractiveness and confidence. I can relate more to Ehle's Lizzie, who is quieter, bookwormish, and more contemplative, though still, obviously, possessed of a tongue that often gets away from her, and a tendency to jump to conclusions.

But those flaws are what endear us to Lizzie. The fact that she can have these flaws, yet still be so full of grace, makes me believe that I, too, can be a heroine full of grace, just like Lizzie.

And I can't help but think that is what Lizzie's creator wanted her readers to come away from her book feeling.

Speaking of people I'd like to be...

Till next time,

Bev

Midwest Tour for MJ and Anthony

2006-06-07T21:00:00.000-07:00

MaryJanice and Anthony are MIA this week and next because they are touring the Midwest!.

Haven't you always wanted to meet these fab authors? Now's your chance. Check out their tour dates and locations and stop on by. Get your autographed copy of the new Jennifer Scales: Messenger of Light which is out NOW.

We are hoping to post a pic or two of the frenzy, so stay tuned.

Jennifer Scales and the Messenger of Light- Available NOW!!

2006-06-07T09:28:00.000-07:00

AVAILABLE NOW!!

Finally, the next installment of the Jennifer Scales series is available. So run, don't walk to your nearest bookstore and pick this puppy up! I'm doing that today. Right after I hit post. Seriously, I have my keys and purse next to my computer.

-Serena

What character would I be in tv or a book, if I could...

2006-06-06T20:30:00.000-07:00

Wonder Woman baby. All the freakin' way!

I loved Wonder Woman when I was a kid. I never missed the TV show with Lynda Carter (and now own them on VHS). I had the doll, with her fake eyelashes and painted on brazzier. I ran around in a gymnastics unitard with a towel safety-pinned around my neck, twirling a jump rope and singing the theme song. So please understand what I mean when I say I LOVED Wonder Woman.

I was am embarrasment to my mother, who to her credit, only mocked Wonder Woman once in my presence. She referred to her as Ice Cream Cone Boobs and I cried for two days. I got into a fist fight at school with a boy who claimed Wonder Woman's top fell down on television. Oh, the betrayal.

As an adult there was Xena, Warrior Princess. Sure, I had all the action figures, trading cards and episodes on VHS but Wonder Woman would still be my first choice.

Viva la Amazons!
-Serena Robar

What moment I would change in high school...

2006-06-03T15:28:00.000-07:00

It seems like I am the only one of the blogger team who is going to fess up to something truly horrible I did in school.

I'm not saying that MJ and her painful pickle incident wasn't awful or Gena and her panty parade wasn't mortifying. The missed opportunity in a treasured school memory will undoubtably haunt Bev forever and Marianne, well, she had a whole list of things she would do differently. But my big regret (of which there are several), really stands out in my head because I disappointed a teacher who trusted me and disappointed myself.

I cheated.

Yes, I know, in today's day and age that seems so passe. But its a big deal and I'm gonna tell you why. A younger classman who desperately wanted to impress me happened to be helping out my 10th grade history professor by stapling tests together. She knew I was in the class (I went to a very small school) and she took one. She gave it to me and I was so surprised, I took it. What a lovely example I was setting.

Then, to try and cull the favor of more popular students I let a few select 'in' people know I had the test. They gave me their phone numbers so I could call them that night. I had the cool kids phone numbers! Didn't that make me cool, in turn? So I called the three cool kids in my class and told them the questions to the test. Not the answers to the questions, just the questions. Apparently, I am a very dumb cheater.

I was so full of guilt that I refused to look up the answers myself. The moment I hung up with the last cool kid the high of having their phone numbers was over. I knew I couldn't call them out of the blue just to chat. They were using me and deep down I knew it but I helped them cheat anyway.

Day after test, I receive a lovely D. I still felt awful. The teacher stood up and made a speech about trust and I felt worse. He announced there would be a new test because someone CHEATED and he didn't know all who was involved so he would be making everyone take a new test. I was so busted.

I was sent to the principle who called my mom. I refused to give up the name of the student who gave me the test. In my heart it was all me. That younger classmate was just trying to impress me. I should have had the cajones to say, thanks but no thanks. My mom was puzzled more than angry. Why would such a good student cheat on a test? It was frankly, more humiliating to share how I thought I could get into the 'in' crowd with sharing the test questions than to just be a cheater. It sounded much less needy.

Imagine how kind all the students were to me after they had to study for yet another test? Yeah, school life was a joy for the next month. I couldn't look at that teacher in the face again. Ever. I never took another class with him even though he was a wonderful teacher. The year after I graduated, I was told he had cancer and all my friends made cards and went to visit him in the hospital. I didn't go. I didn't make a card. I was still so horribly ashamed I knew he wouldn't want to see me.

Its been over twenty years since I cheated on that test. The one and only time and it still haunts me. The bad example I set for someone younger who looked up to me, the lost respecr of my teacher and fellow classmates. That shame I felt years later that stopped me from offering comfort to a man who so heavily influenced my life.

So that's it. Not funny or amusing like my normal entries. But painfully honest. Personally, I would rather have slipped on a pickle.

-Serena

What Moment in High School I Would Go Back to Change, and Why...

2006-06-03T06:40:00.000-07:00

Um, all of them?

Guess you want a real answer, huh?

Easy enough. A little back story: I was the star dramatist of my small high school, which didn't actually have many dramatists, so it was fairly easy to be the star. We didn't do a lot of plays, either, and when we did, they were almost always strange little dramas no one wanted to see. Finally, in my graduating year, the drama teachers announced we were going to be putting on Guys and Dolls--the kind of play other schools actually put on! I won the starring role of Adelaide, the perpetually engaged Hatbox Club singer, and had already had numerous rehearsals when the bad news broke: all Toronto school board teachers would be going on a work-to-rule campaign, meaning all extra-curricular activities were now kaput. Now, my school was on the semester system, under which it was possible to graduate a full half year early if you'd ordered your affairs right over the years--which I had! Can you guess the rest? You've got it. By the time the work-to-rule campaign was over, I was just about outta there.

Now here's the moment I would go back to change. The play director asked me, once the work-to-rule thing was over, if I'd consider being involved in the play, anyway. I said no. I should have said yes. (A sentiment echoed by my family, all of whom are heartily sick of me constantly saying in mournful tones, "I was almost the lead in my high school production of Guys and Dolls...") 'Course, I spent those 'free' few months working full-time in an office, so I really don't know how I would have swung those after-school practices, but can you imagine how different life might have been for a shy, nerdy teen who finally shone in her school play?

Yeah, probably not very.

But to this day, I am still obsessed with Guys and Dolls. Currenly, my agent is shopping around a middle-grade series set at a performing arts school, at which guess what play is performed in the heroine's first year?

Yeah, I know. Unhealthy. But if I wasn't unhealthily obsessed with high school, would I even be a YA writer? I think not.

Speaking of being a YA writer...countdown to I Was a Teenage Popsicle release: 122 days!!!

Till next time,

Bev

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2006-06-02T05:11:00.000-07:00

Oh for a time machine! To go back and relive high school. Actually I enjoyed most of my high school experience. But there were a few things I'd be happy to change. For example, I would have:

1) Not dated half the guys I dated. The punk rocker who dropped out of high school? The guy who already had a girlfriend? The cocky skater who would chase anything in a skirt? If they had FUTURE LOSER stamped on their forehead, I probably hooked up with them. Instead, I would find a nice quiet math geek who would treat me right and make lots of money someday.

2) Paid attention in math. I was a total creative type - drama, creative writing, film. Now I'm poor. If only I studied computer programming...(And bonus, I could have met my geek...)

3) Plucked my eyebrows. Every photo from high school makes me look like Brooke Shields. And I would have never, ever, EVER tried to make my hair big.

4) Not fought so much with my parents. Not because I've learned that they were only doing what was best for me, but because I would have been grounded less. I think I was grounded 3/4ths of my high school experience. Fun. Not.

5) Chosen my friends wiser. If a particular person repeatedly screwed me over and talked about me behind my back, I would rise above and choose not to hang out with then anymore. I would look for friends who were genuine and true, even if their hairstyles were less cool and they didn't dress all in black.

6) Spent fewer hours hanging out at Denny's. And I would know that when friends started pouring out packets of sugar onto the table, dividing them into lines and snorting them with straws like it's drugs, it's time to leave. Also, anyone who proclaims "I got kicked out of Dennys for three weeks" with pride in their voice is someone to take off the friend list.

But hey, all these things made me into who I am today. And gave me great materials for writing teen novels. So maybe, just maybe, I'd keep things the way they were.

Well, except for the eyebrow thing...

Seems like all the bad things happen in the cafeteria. . .

2006-06-01T15:08:00.000-07:00

So many things I could name. I'll start with the first one that comes to me...

One day, junior year, I'm standing in the cafeteria and talking to my friends (aka eating up the eye candy standing a few feet away). We're having a fabulous time. Well, my fabulous time doesn't last long. A girl I know – to this day I still cannot refer to her as my friend – walks up behind me and lifts my skirt. I whip around to see what's going on. . . and she continues to hold onto my skit.

So everyone gets a good, long look at my panties.

She thinks it's hilarious. I think she deserves to roast in hell. Needless to say, she stopped thinking it was funny when I got done yelling at her. There may have been some pushing involved, as well.

Don't even get me started on the day I tried to do a new, cool dance move in front of the boy I was crushing on. . .

Oh, to have a time machine...

2006-05-31T18:38:00.000-07:00

What would I go back and un-do in high school? No question. I was (am) clumsy, and one day while moving through the cafeteria line, I slipped on a pickle (it was hamburger and fries Tuesday) and blew out my knee. Supreme agony. And I had a nine pound baby without anesthesia; I know agony. Anyway, I hit the floor like a sack of dirt and, clutching my knee and screaming (in front of the entire high school cafeteria, mind you) rolled beneath the varsity football players' table. None of them looked up from their burgers. I mean, how weird is that? A girl is screeching in pain and rolling around in agony on the floor, and nobody even peeks under the table to see what's happening?

Anyway, a couple of my pals helped me to the nurse's office, while the entire cafeteria (except for the munching football players) watched silently. There, the horror continued. My folks were both working 50 miles away, so the debate coach I had a HUGE crush on offered to drive me to the hospital. I, in the manner of 16 year-old girls, had been fantasizing about being alone with him, but not like this. Huddled in a painful ball in the passenger seat, I sobbed while he wondered aloud if I would be able to make the tournament on Saturday.

The doctor popped a cast on my knee, which remained for six weeks. Even now, in my thirties, I have a trick knee which, if I'm not careful, will pop out.

But the worst part? For weeks afterward, classmates would open my locker at school (small town=no locks=anybody can open your locker) and press pickle slices between the pages of my textbooks.

Bastards.

Best Experience as a Writer

2006-05-27T07:10:00.000-07:00

Writing can be a solitary venture. You labor away in the darkness of your own living room before the sun rises so you can get some word count done before heading to your day job. It's not always fun and sometimes you just want to pull your hair out and scream and say "WHY DO I BOTHER?" Beginning writers don't even make a lot of money, unless they are really lucky, so for those of you who think the riches are worth it, let me tell you, they ain't. It's a labor of love in the beginning, baby.

So my best experience as a writer is my interaction with readers. I love going to writer's conferences and meeting people who actually read my book. I love to get emails from teens saying the main character in my book "Is exactly like them." I love when they share with me their own ambitions to write and send me their poetry. I love when they write up full commentaries on what they like and dislike about the book. I love when they say they got in trouble in class cause they were caught reading my book. That's why I like promoting on MySpace so much. It's a two way street where I can talk to my readers and they can talk back. It's so much fun and cuts away at the solitude part.

Of course, opening yourself up to feedback can also be disheartening. There are people who hated my first book "A Connecticut Fashionista in King Arthur's Court" and were soooo vhemenant about it, even to the point of attacking me, the author, personally. I remember one Amazon review that said she doubted the author "has ever been in love, except with a pair of slim black pants on sale." Uhh, yeah. You could glean that from a fictional novel I wrote??? Hm. Let me tell you something, sweetie. It's called FICTION for a reason. People think if you write in first person, the main character is automatically the author. Uh, no.

Oh, but I digress. We're supposed to be talking about BEST experiences. I'd say 1) selling a book 2) Getting your cover (as long as you like it) 3) Seeing the book in print. 4) Seeing the book in the store. 5) Hitting a bestseller list. (Okay I'm not there quite yet (lol) but I know it'll be a BEST experience when it happens.

:)
Mari

Best Experience as a Writer...

2006-05-26T20:46:00.000-07:00

I have to say my favorite experience being a writer is meeting people who have read my book. To think something I created is out the world being read by strangers and anyone who read it was moved enough to tell me about it. I love that.

Also, I really dig talking to classes. Writing YA means I offer myself up to teachers to come speak to their classes about writing, publishing business, etc. It always starts out the same. Students are uninterested, I am witty and amusing, they get more interested and by the end of the class they are all asking questions in earnest. I hope they are really interested and not just trying to keep the weird writer lady talking so they don't have to do any work but its always interesting to hear the questions they ask.

Especially when you write vampire books. The boys never tend to be so interested until I talk about world building and use my vampire series as an example. They want to know how vampires are created, why I stray away from some common myths and why I have made up new stuff. They want to know about the blood, the bite but more than that, they want to know why I choose to mold the world a certain way. And then they want to know what else I have coming out. Then I know I have reached them. They want to know more, they want to read more. I LOVE that part.

-Serena

My Best Experience as a Writer

2006-05-26T19:31:00.000-07:00

Well, it wasn't seeing my I Was a Teenage Popsicle heroine turn blue! Don't know what happened with the colors here on the blog, but check out the color-corrected cover on the bio page of www.summerbites.com, or on my own website, www.bevkatzrosenbaum.com. (Huge thanks to Serena for trying to help me get to the bottom of all my technoproblems!)

But back to this week's topic: my best experience as a writer...

I have to agree with Gena--as a writer, you experience so many great moments, it's impossible to pick 'the best'. Some happen during the act of creation itself--when you get a great idea, or when an idea starts to come together, or when a sentence, scene, or chapter really begins to work. (Or even better, when you read over something you've written and say to yourself, Damn, that's good! I recently had this wonderful experience reading over the first three chapters of a tween novel called Diva School that my agent's starting to shop around. Here's hoping some editor whose desk it lands on has the same reaction!)

The Call, in which an editor offers to buy your book, is always a thrill. Ditto the posting of the deal on Publisher's Marketplace, and the subsequent flurry of interest from film producers (even if it all comes to naught, which it usually does).

Getting The Call for I Was a Teenage Popsicle was especially emotional for me as it represented the culmination of a dream (becoming a YA writer!), and because my kids were so excited. (Like, how great is it to be able to do something your kids and their friends get excited about?)

Then there's the ego-boosting outpouring of congrats from other family members and friends, etc. (Yes, writers are needy, okay?) If it's your first sale, saying the words "my editor" about a hundred times in each response is compulsory!

And let's not forget all the wonderful people you get to interact with as a writer--editors, agents, other writers. (Meeting a writer you admire and having him/her treat you as a peer is mind-blowingly cool!)

Seeing your cover for the first time is always a great moment. Ditto seeing your book up for pre-order on Amazon (which I did just last week and am now hustling to get all my Amazon Connect info together!). And of course, seeing it on the book shelves sends chills down your spine.

Can't hardly wait to see I Was a Teenage Popsicle on the shelves! Mark your calendars, folks--the big day is October 3, 2006!!!

Till next time,

Bev

2006-05-26T11:25:00.000-07:00

My best experience as a writer. . . there have been so many that needs to read "experienceS"! The day I signed with my agent. The day I sold my very first book, The Stone Prince. The day I met fellow author Jill Monroe -- not to mention all the other authors I’ve met and love, many of whom are now counted as my dearest friends. Each time I see one of my book covers for the first time. Each time I hold one of my books in my hand for the first time. Meeting readers who love my books. I could go on and on!

Best of all, I’m looking forward to all the other ‘best experiences’ of being a writer.

Best Experience as a Writer

2006-05-25T19:15:00.000-07:00

Our apologies for not blogging yesterday! Time got away from us both.

The theme this week is our best experience as a writer. In our case, we're very lucky - we continue to have "best" experiences every time we work together on Jennifer Scales. (Awwww...)

Okay, seriously. MaryJanice's best experience as a writer was the day she found out she was on the NY Times bestseller list (Undead & Unappreciated). Anthony's best experience was, well, when he found out his wife was on the NY Times bestseller list. (He's not stupid.)

- AA & MJ

I was a Teenage Popsicle Cover

2006-05-22T12:06:00.000-07:00

My Worst Job

2006-05-19T20:16:00.000-07:00

Oh, dear, there were sooo many horrible jobs. But the absolute worst was the gig I had working one summer at the CNE (Canadian National Exhibition--it's a month-long summer fair in Toronto).

Now this sounded great at first. Everyone got a summer job at the CNE; practically my whole junior high school was going to be working there--it was gonna be amaaaazing! My friend Marci snagged us the job. Our employer was one her accountant dad's clients. We didn't even have to interview!

On the streetcar down to the Ex (as it's affectionately known in T.O.), Marci casually mentioned that we'd be working at the Poland kiosk at the Foods of the World building.

"Oh, cool," I said. Wherever. I really didn't care. As long as I got to see S, my junior high school crush, occasionally.

"So, you know how to speak Polish, right?"

Huh?

"Uh, no, not really, I said.

"Oh," she said, sounding puzzled. "For some reason, I thought you did."

I have no idea where she would have gotten this idea. I may have mentioned that my father was born in Poland, but his family came over to North America when he was three. And once here, his parents spoke only Yiddish or English, never Polish.

"Well, I do know a couple of words," I amended, remembering something. "I like those Polish sausages. What are they called? Weisswurst?"

She smiled. "I think we'll be selling some of those."

Cue up the scary music.

Because this job turned into a horror movie.

We didn't just sell "some" sausages.

We sold thousands.

With sides of cabbage-stuffed pierogies. (No amount of showering could get rid of the smell.)

In hundred-and-twenty degree heat. (The kiosk was about 6' X 6'--we were practically right on top of the stove.)

To people who assumed, when I greeted them with, "Weisswurst mit pierogies?" as ordered, that I was fluent in Polish, and would start jabbering on in what sounded like gibberish to me.

And became quite hostile upon learning I spoke zippo Polish.

I don't think I saw S once that summer. I was too exhausted by the end of each day to socialize, let alone flirt, which required some degree of concentration back in eighth grade.

I'd been contemplating applying for a part-time job during the school year at the McDonald's around the corner from my house, but after the Foods of the World debacle. I vowed never to work in the food service industry again. From then on, it was all about the typing, baby. (Give me an office and give me freedom!)

The office jobs were boring, but boring was suddenly a positive attribute.

And it was my crackerjack typing skill (along with a university degree in English Literature) that landed me my first post-uni job as an editorial assistant at a publishing house. And you know how that ended up...

Speaking of my being an author myself now, I GOT THE COVER FOR I WAS A TEENAGE POPSICLE AND IT TOTALLY ROCKS! AND MY WEBSITE'S FINALLY GONE LIVE! Check both out IMMEDIATELY at www.bevkatzrosenbaum.com!!!

Till next time,

Bev

It wasn't the job, it was the employee. . .

2006-05-19T05:35:00.000-07:00

Confession: I haven’t had a worst job, but I’ve been the worst employee. Many times. There. Now you know my secret. Used to be, I couldn’t hold down a job for more than a few days – sometimes not even that long. I worked at Hobby Lobby for one day. Yep. One. I worked at a tire store for less than an hour. I worked at a bookstore for two weeks.

It amazes my family (and me!) that I’ve been able to write books as long as I have. But then, it’s the best job EVER so why would I want to give it up?

Dishwasher. Period.

2006-05-17T20:37:00.001-07:00

MaryJanice is at the Romantic Times conference down in Florida this week, so I'm handling the blog.

While I've certainly had some stressful jobs as an adult - and even a couple of stinkers as a full-blown professional - my worst job was probably dishwasher at the Pancake Man on Route 28 in South Yarmouth. It was a summer job, very common on Cape Cod. The cooks, teenagers a couple years older than us dishwashers, liked to gang up on the smaller dishwashers and throw the kids in the dumpster in back.

Once they came for me. I was bigger than any one of them, so I didn't see why I should go willingly. We came to an agreement: I did not end up in the dumpster, and they did not try again. Worked out for everyone.

I left at the end of the summer, after telling the manager how much the job sucked. He agreed - it was pretty bad.

The following summer, I actually got an invitation from the same manager to come back as a prep chef. I didn't bother responding, and instead entered the wild world of cinematic ushering, which lasted the remainder of my high school career. There, I got to watch the ending of Howard the Duck about twelve times a week, which nearly led to suicide by bludgeoning myself with a velvet rope pole. A story for another day.

- Anthony

My worse job...ever

2006-05-16T08:34:00.000-07:00

Hmm, this topic could be interesting. My first 'real' job was at Dairy Queen. The job itself wasn't so horrible. I worked at the DQ that was on the main drag that everyone cruised, so on weekend nights I was working at the place everyone stopped by and cruised. The polyester brown uniforms, on the other hand, were just nasty. Back then, the blizzard machine wasn't all fancy like they are now and when I would make one, the machine (which was essentially a large beater) would splatter blizzard ingrediants on me. Right across the chest. And teen boys would never come up with new nicknames on a daily basis for a girl whose uniform always sported ice cream across their breasts. Yeah, kids are so kind that way.

But pre-DQ I would get summer jobs. One year I detassled corn for about a week. WORSE JOB EVER. Imagine working in 110 degree heat in Eastern Washington and sitting on a tractor with a very long arm with several other teens to stupid to know what they were getting into. You reach down and pull a 'tassle' from the top of a corn stalk. Sounds pretty easy, right? Except the tassle is filled with pollen and this stuff gets everywhere and itches like crazy. So you show up at work with long sleeves and jeans on so you aren't going insane with the itching. shiver. I have flashbacks of itchy terror just thinking about it.

Everyone should have a crappy job at least once in their life. Builds character. I'm sure the experiences will find there way into a book someday. hehe. Revenge will be mine.
-Serena

Sneaky Starry!

2006-05-14T21:45:00.000-07:00

When I'm not writing or going to work you'll most likely find me playing videogames. I'm sadly addicted to World of Warcraft, a game in which I play a 60 level rogue named Starry. A rogue is probably the most fun character to play in WoW because they can stealth. Stealth means you can basically turn invisible at will and sneak around all the bad guys, then stun 'em with blades dripping in poison when they aren't looking.

Uh, ahem. Okay, so I probably wouldn't want to actually stun or poison anyone in real life, but the stealthy part would be way cool. Imagine, you're late to school or work. You could stealth past your teacher/boss's office door and right to your desk. "Oh, me? I've been here the whole time!" Or maybe you're in an insane line at Disney World. Stealth right up to the front, baby! And think of all those conversations you could overhear! You'd be the queen of gossip and the most interesting person at any party!

So forget flying (to much work arm flapping!) or x-ray vision (ew - I don't want to know what you got under that!) or being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound (hello - that's what elevators are for!) For me - it's invisible stealthing that would make my life complete!

Mari

PS And now that I've fulfilled my blog duties of the week (late as usual!) I must share with you my new book trailer for my Boys that Bite series. It's sort of like a movie preview, but for books! Check it out and let me know what you think. :)

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

Superpowers I Would Choose...

2006-05-13T06:56:00.000-07:00

Well, it sure would be nice to be able to write SEVEN BOOKS A YEAR like my amazing co-blogger, Gena Showalter, but I'd have to say the being-in-several-places-at-once thing also hugely appealing. Because, let's face it, there's never enough time for any of us to do everything we have to do, whether you're a student (study for exams, work part-time, volunteer, and still make time for friends and family--uh, yeah, sure...as if), or a middle-aged writer/mom (work, manage household, volunteer, and still make time for friends and family--what, are you nuts?).

I'm sure somewhere there's a crazy scientist who's already cloned people (like the crazy scientist who's 'defrosting' cryo-preserved people in my upcoming book, I Was a Teenage Popsicle), and if I found said scientist, I could get a few of me made. But the thing is, the whole cloning thing kinda freaks me out. Ditto cryonics. I'm fascinated by cloning and cryonics, but that doesn't mean I want to clone or cryo-preserve myself (or my loved ones, or my dead dog). Typical writer that I am, I'd rather squirrel myself away in a cramped office and write about cool (haha, get it?) stuff than actually experience it. Which is hard when people are constantly pressuring you to do stuff. Like go on rollercoasters (shudder) and such. But ya know, resisting pressure is a superpower in itself.

So hey, maybe all I need to do to solve that having-to-be-in-five-places-at-once is say no more!

Till next time,

Bev

Superpowers, baby. Bring 'em on!

2006-05-12T06:30:00.000-07:00

I actually got to explore this topic in one of my upcoming books, Playing With Fire. In it, an ordinary woman is given an experimental formula that causes her to develop unexpected superpowers. Her ability: to control the four elements. That is the power I’d most like to have.

With only a thought, I could start fires (not that I’m a pyro), I could cause storms, and I could fly (since I’d control the wind and all). I’d also control the "earth", so could create dirt balls with my mind and throw them in peoples faces (not that I’m a bitch). I’d be one badass chic.

Of course, the heroine of Playing With Fire is soon being chased by PSI, a secret branch of the government (side note: I wouldn’t want to be chased unless the agent chasing me was sexy) and OASS, a non-government agency (again: sexy). Both agencies want to exploit her powers.

I’ve never had so much fun writing a book.

What would I do with paranormal powers?

2006-05-10T18:42:00.000-07:00

Oh, man. What WOULDN'T I do? What is this, a trick question? You think we only write paranormal books for the money? (Okay, not ONLY for the money. Also for the--BWAH-HAH-HAH!--prestige.)

All my life (this is MJ, by the way, coming to you live and drunk from St. Paul, Minnesota, and no, I'm not kidding...we had a dinner party tonight and I had a little too much red wine. Mmmm...red wine...so...velvetey. So plummy. I couldn't figure out how to roll my up my car windows earlier and now I'm blogging? Moron. Me, not you guys.)

There's no doubt I've fantasized about having super powers. When I was a kid my favorite shows were Superfriends (duh), Wonder Woman (duh-duh), The Bionic Woman (see previous), and The Six Million Dollar Man. Alice and One Day At a Time did nothing for me, nor did Welcome Back Kotter or Three's Company (though I admit to a small crush on John Ritter).

No, the shows for me were the ones where the heroines kicked ass. And my favorite dreams were the ones in which I had powers. Those were even better than...uh, other kinds of dreams. The ones that I had post-puberty. But I digress. Flying, telekinesis, being bulletproof...I didn't care what power it was, as long as it was MINE.

But given a choice? If I could have any paranormal power? To fly, I think. To be able to leap into the air as naturally as breathing, to be able to skim treetops with my flip flops and still have enough energy to go home and make supper...yeah.

That'd be sweet.

Eat, Drink and Be Creative

2006-05-08T13:17:00.000-07:00

I'm most creative when I'm doing something mindless. Like jogging. I find jogging unbearably boring but for some reason every time I have a plot problem I need to work out, I have to force myself to get out on the open road and start running. Sadly for my thighs and my appetite for double stuffed Oreos, I don't have nearly enough plot problems.

I write in the AM before work, which can be torture. I mean, who wants to wake up two hours before you have to go into work? I try to make the experience slightly more bearable by making yummy hot chocolate to drink. I think abut that chocolately goodness and try to tempt myself out of bed as my alarm clock blares and begs not to be put on the sleep timer for a fifth time. It works. Sometimes.

I think if I were a full time writer I'd wake up at noon, head to Starbucks and write there. Accompanied by my triple venti sugar free vanilla non-fat latte, of course. And those yummy espresso brownies that my friend used to love until she found out they were 700 calories a piece or something ridiculous like that.

Don't worry - I'll work them off later when I have a plot problem. :)

MARI

If I could have paranormal aspects...

2006-05-08T08:51:00.000-07:00

Would I be a blood sucking vampire? shapeshifter? alien? ghost? psychic? werewolf? dragon? Sooooo many options. It's safe to say I would skip the whole vampire thing. I have been known to get woozy at the sight of other's blood loss. I love the idea of being a shapeshifter. Whenever someone wanted me to get them milk or make them a sandwich, I could turn into a chair or something, forcing them to get their own snack.

Although being psychic would certainly save me a great deal of time. I would know exactly what my editors wants revised without waiting for the edits and I would know what readers are thinking about my books without having to google myself for reviews. Of course, that could totally backfire. Imagine walking down the street and reading the minds of those I pass and the answer to "Does this outfit make my butt look big?" is finally answered with frank honesty.

Hmm, maybe I will stick with shapeshifting. If nothing else, I could shapeshift my body fat around and grow a couple of inches. :)

-Serena

The Tao of Bev

2006-05-05T19:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, those people who get up at, like four in the morning to write? I really don't get them. (Um, how do they stay awake?)

Same goes for those I-love-to-write-after-everbody's-gone-to-sleep people. (You write when? From midnight until three a.m.? Are you insane?)

Me, I write from nine to twelve (in the morning) every day. Period.
No early mornings, no late nights, no weekend writing, and definitely no vacation writing. (Another puzzler: the writer who takes her laptop to the beach. Hello, you're on a beach! And here's a news flash for you: the publishing industry is not exactly the stock market. It moves at an, oh, what's the word...right, glacial pace.)

Yeah, I know, people have full-time day jobs and can't do the nine to twelve thing. I had a full-time day job, too, once upon a time. I wrote my first novel on the bus and in doctors' waiting rooms. Anything to avoid that early morning/late night thing! (I highly recommend the commuter method, BTW. Because, let's face it, what are your options? Reading the newspaper's pretty much impossible unless you enjoy getting into elbow wars. And if you're not reading or writing, you're forced to stare at some exremely scary faces.)

I still do other work. My afternoons are devoted to my freelance critique service. That work is also creative and intellectually challenging, but seems to require a different kind of mental energy that's not quite as draining. (Does anybody spend more than three or four hours a day on her actual writing? I can't imagine that. When I don't have critique work, I get caught up on my critique service paperwork, or do promo-related stuff.)

It's all about balance, kids.

Speaking of which, I just broke my own rule and posted this late on Friday night. (Only because I'll be at my nephew's Bar Mitzvah tomorrow morning!) Thank God I'm done now--I'm toast! Off to bed I go...

Till next time,

Bev

My creative confession. . .

2006-05-05T05:37:00.000-07:00

I’m most creative when I’m driving (sorry, but it’s true.) Yes, you should stay home trembling in fear when you know I’m out on the open road. I’m also creative when I’m in the shower. Side note: never try to shave your legs when you’re being creative. The mind wanders. . . the rasor digs a little too deep. . .Shudder!

I did, however, manage to come up with the idea for OH MY GOTH while talking on the phone. So maybe there's hope for me, my legs, and all those drivers out there.

Time to Be Creative

2006-05-03T19:23:00.000-07:00

From a writing perspective, Anthony is most creative after 8pm, when the kids are getting ready for (or in) bed.

MaryJanice is most creative between 9am and 3pm, when the kids are in school.

Spot the common link!

It really doesn't get much more complicated than that. Peace & quiet = creativity in the Alongi household.

Ironically, our children are most creative when they're at school, too - away from us. So we guess it runs in the family!

- AA & MJ

Creativity , Schedules and Book Launches, Oh My.

2006-05-01T09:49:00.000-07:00

My book, Braced2Bite hits book shelves tomorrow. Yeah, my first book. It is getting great reviews, such as 5 out of 5 stars from Barnes and Noble readers. So what are you waiting for? Go get the book. If its still not on the shelf today, then make those booksellers get it out of the backroom! :) I promise, its totally worth it.

Now back to our regularly scheduled blog theme which is (drum roll please) When are you the most creative and what's your writing schedule like? I picked the themes this month since I have a book out (see aboves blatant self promotion paragraph) because I am the most creative when my body is doing physical, mindless labor. Such as weeding, packing boxes, cleaning, (even driving the car) etc. There is something about the body completing tasks that are no brainers and the mind wanders. I have been madly packing our house these last couple of weeks in anticipation of putting it on the market (which happens this week too, btw) and I plotted out 4 books in my head. And they are good books too. So good, I wanted to stop what I was doing and just write. Except, I can't. See, I have two more books due before I can even start on these other 4 books. Bummer.

When do I write? Whenever I can. Between family obligations I hide in my office and tap away at the keyboard. My trusty alpha smart is packed away (oh how I miss you) so that leaves my desktop for creativity. I've been known to leave snacks on the kitchen table and lock my office door, with orders to leave me alone unless someone is gushing blood. Then I write for hours, forgetting time, forgetting well, everything, but the story. I have snuck out of bed in the middle of the night when a story won't leave me alone. When inspiration hits, you must act. The muse doesn't wait for when things are convenient for you. Because she never shows up when its convenient. She's just like that. If she was convenient I wouldn't have four great books plotted in my head during an incredibly stress ful move that makes it impossible to work on them right away. The muse thinks she's being cute. I have another name for her...;)

Celebrity Crush - Luke or Han

2006-05-01T08:07:00.000-07:00

There are many choices you make in life that define who you are. Coke or Pepsi. McDonalds or Burger King. Wal-Mart or Target.

And then there's Luke or Han.

Luke Skywalker and Han Solo to be exact. If you were a girl child of the eighties, you were either in Luke camp or Han camp. There was no in between. You either wanted the earnest be-a-hero-and-save-the-world type or the dashing bad boy who didn't care who was in charge as long as he got paid.

I was a Luke girl, though at the time I never realized this was unusual. Now that I'm an adult, I've realized that most people saw Han Solo as the sexy one. Me, I loved Luke. Okay, so Mark Hamill didn't age well, I understand. But come on - in that black suit in Return of the Jedi... This is what 9 year old fantasies are made of!!

Luke was safe, where Han was dangerous. He wanted to save the world, not just make money off of it. He offered a chaste romance with Leia, instead of backering, name calling and stolen kisses. (Thank goodness for that - since they turned out to be siblings, which just would have been ew!!)

Let me tell you, I've been with my share of Han Solos in real life. They start out great. The dangerous bad boy is at his best the first few dates. He''s exciting and thrilling and (bonus!) annoys the heck out of your parents. But when all is said and done, wouldn't you rather settle with a Luke? Someone who will treat you right? Who won't run away from his debts and responsibilities? Who wants to treat you as the center of his galaxy? Who would rather die then turn to the dark side?

Yup, Luke was my first crush. And I won't settle for anything less than a real life Luke to be my last.

Real Men Are...Animated!

2006-04-29T06:33:00.000-07:00

Celebrity crushes--ha! Haven't had one of those since Bobby Sherman. (Whom I blogged about during First Love week.)

Truth is, the current crop of Hollywood hotties seem kinda boring and vapid. And I've never been the kind of gal who could 'like' someone without a brain.

Steve Buscemi and Dennis Leary both seem interesting--Steve's a weird indie guy, while Dennis has that whole out-of-control rebel thing going on (and you can just tell he's not faking it). But they may be a little too interesting, if you know what I mean. Besides, they're not exactly cover boy material. Both are in desperate need of a good orthodontist, for one thing.

Truth be told, I'm finding, more and more, that my ideal guys can be found...on cartoons.

Really.

The kiddies and I are currently addicted to a Nelvana 'toon called Sixteen (which I'm not even sure is broadcast in the U.S., so forgive me if you have absolutely no clue what I'm talking about). The show revolves around a group of friends--three guys and three girls--who practically live in a mall.

The three guys are sk8er boy Jude, overly confident Jonesy, and musician/poet Wyatt.

Being cartoons, all three have great voices. (And you now what a great voice can do to a gal...) And, needless to say, they're all sinfully good looking. (What's the point of making a cartoon guy ugly?)

Jude's not book smart, but he has huge heart (another thing the Hollywood hotties seem to lack). As for Jonesy, underneath all the bluster, he's a great friend, and is definitely still carrying a torch for ex-gf Niki. And then there's Wyatt. Smart, artsy, cute, witty (in an adorably understated way), but a little shy, a little awkward around girls.

Sigh.

Yeah, I know. These aren't real people. But here's a news flash: those 'real guys' the rest of you crush on? Those Hollywood hotties we read about everywhere? They aren't 'real', either. Their personas are carefully constructed by their P.R. people. Who knows what they're really like!

So I'm gonna stick to my cartoons, thank you very much. You should, too. Start by checking out Sixteen, if you get it in your area. Remember, real men have two dimensions!

Till next time,

Bev

First celebrity crush...

2006-04-28T10:24:00.000-07:00

All right. I’m just going to come out and say it. I’ll do it quickly, like ripping off a Band Aid. Kirk Cameron. There. I said it. He was my first celebrity crush. Ralph Macho was a close second. But getting back to Kirky Pooh. . . I frenched his poster every night. Hardcore. Well, until I frenched a big hole in it. Wait. Did I reveal too much?

My tastes have certainly changed over the years. Used to, the good boys did it for me. Nowadays, it’s the bad boys. Tattoos – oh yeah! Bring ‘em on. Messy hair, piercings, muscles (okay, so that’s not necessarily a bad boy trait), and total alpha. Not that I’d be able to live with an asshole, mind you. Fantasy is not the same as reality.

Celebrity Crush

2006-04-26T20:05:00.000-07:00

Naturally, Anthony's first and only celebrity crush is his wife. ;)

Okay, now that MaryJanice has stopped reading, I can tell you about my REAL celebrity crushes. My first (age 11 or so, about 25 years ago) was Jane Seymour. My older sister mocked me mercilessly, not so much because Ms. Seymour was a poor choice than because my sister's just that kind of person. (Italian families. Whaddya do.)

The humiliation put me off of celebrity crushes until I was dating MaryJanice, around age 18 or 19. Dangerous Liaisons came out with Glenn Close, John Malkovich...and Michelle Pfieffer. WOW. Ms. Pfieffer rocked my world. I watched the movie a bunch of times; and after the first viewing I couldn't even watch the scene where Malkovich dumps her. To this day, if I saw the actor on the street I'd slug him. (Then I'd ask for his autograph, because he's great.)

Anyway, Ms. Pfieffer tied me over until a few years ago, when Drew Barrymore stopped taking drugs and got hot again. I think she's also MaryJanice's celebrity crush; but that may just be wishful thinking.

Peace,
Anthony

First Celebrity Crushes

2006-04-25T08:33:00.000-07:00

This week on the YA Paranormal blog we are talking about our first Celebrity Crushes. I have to confess, I was never one of those kids who had posters all over her room with various beefcake actors and big hair bands (I was an 80's child, ya know). Just think if I was? I could have had pictures of Tom Cruise from "Top Gun" adorning my walls and years later I could be carrying his child. With only a 16 year age difference between us. Actually, Tom and I are more like 7 years apart in age, but still, it could have happened. Not.

But that didn't mean I didn't have my celebrity crushes. Can you say Beau Duke from the original Dukes of Hazzard? John Schneider. Yummy. Still is, btw. All these years later. Country Music singer. Mmm. Yummy. Yes, John and I were destined to be together. Actually, Beau and I were destined to be together. I had no idea who this John Schneider person was. I was in love with Beau Duke. That good ol' boy who forever foiled the plans of that mean old Boss Hogg and his silly side kick, Roscoe P. Coltrane.
Have you ever fallen for a character in a movie or on TV? Who among us doesn't have the hots for Mr. Darcy? or daydream about Ranger versus Moretti? It's all good.

And for those of you concerned having a crush is cheating...I'm not sure who said it, but it doesn't matter where you whet your appetite as long as you eat at home.

-Serena

A Day in the Life of a Writer Who Isn't Meg Cabot or J.K. Rowling

2006-04-22T06:31:00.000-07:00

Morning. Meeting with a lawyer/friend on a business matter, near the photography studio at which I got my publicity photographs taken. I comment on the reasonable price of the headshot package. She raises her eyebrows. "But your publisher paid for them, right?"

"Um, no," I say, explaining that unless you're Meg Cabot or J.K. Rowling, any publicity-related expense is pretty much your own responsibility.

"Huh," she says, puzzled.

Afternoon. Coffee with a friend. I talk about my promotion plans for I Was a Teenage Popsicle, which include a fairly ambitious stock signing tour.

"Wow," she says. "It's great that your publishing company plans all that for you."

"Um, it doesn't," I say, explaining that unless you're Meg Cabot or J.K. Rowling, any PR planning pretty much falls on your own shoulders.

"Huh," she says, puzzled.

Later that afternoon, a neighbor asks if we'd be willing to go in on a new backyard fence with him. I gulp and say sure. (If the thing leans over any more, it's going to fall on his kid) I'm cursing inwardly. There goes a good portion of my upcoming advance, which I'd earmarked for one of the thousands of other major home repairs that need to be taken care of (and which the non-handy hubby and I are incapable of doing ourselves).

Evening. I call a computer whiz friend to help me re-landscape my manuscript to galley format.

"Doesn't your publisher send out review galleys?" he asks.

"Um, no," I say, explaining that publishers can't afford to send out galleys for writers who aren't--you guessed it, Meg Cabot or J.K. Rowling.

"Huh," he says, puzzled.

I decide to hit him with the whole truth: how most writers live off of sporadic, tiny advances, and have to juggle writing with other jobs and family responsibilities (which impacts on the their quantitative as well as qualitative output), or if they don't have other jobs, live in falling-apart homes (like mine, though you'd never know it, as I'm a Trading Spaces addict and therefore a genius at inexpensive home staging), and how they have to spend a good portion of whatever little money they earn on promotion, in order to sell through so their publisher will buy more from them.

"So why do you do it?" he asks, even more puzzled.

Why do I do it? Why do I do it??!!

Now that's a stupid question!

Till next time,

Bev

Questions, sweet questions

2006-04-21T06:05:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd try a new photo today. Hope you like it! Now, on to the questions I wish I didn't have to answer...

Q: How much money do you make?
A: How much money do YOU make?

Q: Why do you write smut?
A: Because I’m a dirty whore and I like it. Plus, writing about love and monogamous relationships is what all the smutty girls do.

Q: Mia Snow from Awaken Me Darkly is crude and rude and violent. Why would you write a character like that?
A: Mia put a gun to my head and told me to write her story or she’d kill me. As I was peeing my pants in fear, I thought I’d go ahead and do what she ordered.

Q: If I tell you an idea for a story, will you write the book? We can split the profits 50/50.
A: Sure. But first, I’d like you to meet my friend Mia Snow…

Q: How can you be so beautiful?
A: God just made me this way.

Alright, fine. I haven’t been asked that last one, but would it kill you to ask it??

Stupid is as stupid does

2006-04-19T18:39:00.000-07:00

Oh, boy. I was drooling at the chance to cover this one. Drooooooling. Being a very very very VERY minor celebrity, I get 'em all. (This is MJ the arrogant one this week; Anthony, the more humble of the two, is at the day job fielding stupid questions of his own.)

1) How come Betsy swears so much?

Um. Betsy isn't real. Say it with me: she is. Made. Up. So she doesn't really "do" anything.

2) How come you choose to use bad language in all your books?

For the same reason Southerners "choose" to drop their R's: when I was growing up, that's how the people around me spoke, and it's how I learned the language.

3) But it's such a disgusting habit.

Is that a question, fuckface? Also, skin-popping heroin is a filthy habit. Mistaking your kid's back for an ironing board is a bad habit. Ye olde pottie mouthie? Not so much.

4) Aren't you worried people will think you aren't intelligent?

Me not so worried about silly stuff like...what was it again?

5) Why isn't Betsy nicer?

Because she's DEAD, idiot. She's earned the right to be a little crabby.

6) Where do you get your ideas?

They fly out of my butt. Like monkeys!

7) Why do you choose to write paranormal romance?

To quote Stephen King (who has fielded his share of stupid questions), "Why do you choose to assume I have a choice?"

8) What's next for Jennifer Scales?

Mayhem, murder, secondary sexual characteristics. It'll be a mess.

9) How can I get published?

First, it's imperative you buy a copy of JENNIFER SCALES AND THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT. Once you've done that, get back to me.

10) Are you ever going to stop writing?

Probably. Right around the time I die. I see that as inevitable.

There are no stupid questions...sort of

2006-04-19T05:43:00.000-07:00

This week’s topic is “Stupid Things People Ask Me”. But okay, as the saying goes “There are no stupid questions” so disregard the headline and we’ll rename this essay “Interesting” things that people ask me about book writing.

1) Are those your legs on the cover?

My first book, A Connecticut Fashionista in King Arthur’s Court, featured a pair of very long, very lean, very modelesque legs in hot pink high heeled shoes. I’m 5’5” and I *wish* I ever (even for one day) sported legs like that! And yet, several people standing right in front of me, with a full view of my extremely inferior legs have asked this with a straight face.

2) Is your book going to be in bookstores? Like, real ones like Barnes and Noble?

Nope. Just fake ones. People can’t believe when you tell them you published a book that it will actually appear in a store. I’m not sure if they think I was planning to sell them on street corners or out of the back of my car, but I get this a lot.

3) How much did you have to pay to get your book published?

This goes along with question two. They’re trying to figure out how I scammed my way into having a book. Cause there’s like, no way, someone would actually offer me money for something I wrote. And FYI – one should NEVER pay to have your book published. Those companies are all scams. Vanity presses. They should pay YOU.

4) Soo... how much money do you make by selling books? (Said with greedy “Maybe I could retire and write a book too” look in their eyes)

One of these days I’m going to look these people in the eyes and ask, “So how much do you make as a (doctor, lawyer, manager of the Gap)? Talking about salaries is totally considered uncool, but people think they have the right to know how much cash you raked in on your book. I usually tell them advances can run from about $1,000 to one million and I’m somewhere in between.

5) Why don’t you turn this into a movie? (Usually followed by: Can I be in the movie?)

I would love to. Unfortunately Stephen Spielberg isn’t my uncle and no one’s banging down my door for the rights. Sure, my book WOULD make a good movie. I agree. (In fact, I bet all authors think their books should be on the big screen) But it’s not that easy. Even if the book is “optioned” by a film company, it’s still a long shot that it’d ever be actually made into the film. And if it is, the author retains no rights. And no casting choices. (And if she did, she’d probably cast herself in the starring role.)

A few others:

• Do you know JK Rowling/Laurell K. Hamilton? -- Yes, we go to tea all the time.
• What happened to Dawn’s belly button ring after the story was over? --- It got infected and she died a horrible death.
• Can I IM you? Like, all the time? – Please, please no! I already get nothing done at work. If I start getting reader IMs I’m doomed!

All kidding aside, I don’t blame people for asking. They’re curious and interested in your experience as an author and I do like sharing how it all works. So really, don’t be afraid to ask. I won’t call you stupid and I might even answer your question.

Mari

Live and Learn...

2006-04-14T18:08:00.000-07:00

Mine's pretty much the same old story: bookworm, lit major, closet scribbler, blah, blah, blah.

My first book--a romance novel--was published by Harlequin, the company I worked for (as an editor) at the time. I can hear you muttering about special treatment, etc. Would that it were so! Well, actually, I was given special treatment, but not the kind you think. About a hundred people had to okay my manuscript because nobody wanted to be accused of giving me special treatment!

In order to avoid that problem in the future, I left my job.

And promptly realized I didn't want to write any more romance novels. Once I was out of that world, I knew romance wasn't the right genre for my own writer's voice. (Yeah, it would have been nice if I'd figured that out before quitting my job.)

I did write another romance novel years later, for Harlequin's Flipside line. The Flipside line wanted humorous, chick-litty romance novels--right up my alley! So of course, almost immediately after my Flipside was published, the line was cancelled. (It wasn't my fault--really!)

At about this time, the young adult genre was heating up, and I was loving the books my daughter was reading. They were cute and fun--Flipsides with less romance! So I gave it a shot and promptly sold I Was a Teenage Popsicle to Berkley's 'Jam' line in a nice two-book deal.

So the future looks right, barring some planet-wide calamity that wipes out the earth's teenage population. Which, given my career trajectory thus far, seems entirely conceivable.

Special treatment, indeed.

Till next time,

Bev

My story

2006-04-14T10:53:00.000-07:00

I wrote for two years before signing with my agent, Deidre Knight. Two years of rejection after rejection. Within months we almost sold me to a top NY publisher. I was devastated when the deal didn't go through, and nearly stopped writing. However, I decided to give it another shot and wrote a book called The Stone Prince.

We shopped that book and rejections flooded in during the next year and a half. Yep, almost two years ticked by. It looked like I wouldn't sell that book, either. Man, I was so bummed! I kept writing, though. Then, to my absolutely delight, another top NY publisher decided to launch a new line and called my agent, asking if a particular client of hers would be interested in writing for them. This author couldn't, but Deidre said, "Have I got the author for you," and sent them The Stone Prince.

Within weeks, we had an offer. Well, a fax. See, phones were down at HQN (the publisher), so Tracy Farrell (my editor) was reduced to faxing my agent - who was out of town. When Deidre returned, she read the fax and called Tracy, but this time Tracy was out of town. What followed was a two week, tortuous wait for the deal to be cemented.

But it's been a roller costar ride of excitement ever since, with fifteen sales in a multitude of genres to my credit!

Two stories here

2006-04-12T17:14:00.000-07:00

Since there are two of us, there are two stories to tell. MaryJanice gives her story regularly at speaking events.

She began writing when she was 13, and began submitting to publishers when she was 17. Many years of rejection followed. After about a dozen years of this, she got annoyed enough with print publishers to seek glory in the electronic publishing market. Electronic publishers are more open to innovative work, and MaryJanice found success there.

After a few years of this, MaryJanice began pushing into print publishing again. She began by looking for a literary agent. One of them (who shall remain well-loved and nameless, since he's still her agent and does terrific work!) received UNDEAD & UNWED and liked it, but thought it needed work. He was the only one of three agents who called MaryJanice back. His voice mail to her said he would take her on as a client - if she made some changes to the manuscript.

Meanwhile, an editor at Berkley Books (Cindy Hwang, who shall be named and adored here!) caught the e-book version of UNDEAD & UNWED. She called MaryJanice with an offer for a three-book contract.

So MaryJanice called the agent back and pretty much said, um, I'm not making any changes - and do you want to represent me for this three-book contract or not? He said yes, and has correctly assessed her work ever since.

The rest is history. We're grateful to both agent and publisher.

Anthony technically got print-published about a decade before MaryJanice - he co-authored a research document on school-business partnerships that got an ISBN number and had about 500 copies made. He was paid, um, his regular salary. He may have also gotten a pat on the back from his boss.

He then got off to a paid writing career a few years later, when he began writing weekly articles for a website called thedojo.com. The Dojo was a strategy site for a card game called Magic: the Gathering. This gig paid real cash, and eventually led to his current weekly column at magicthegathering.com for Hasbro, Inc. (who makes the game).

But his first real print book was what he co-authored with MaryJanice - JENNIFER SCALES AND THE ANCIENT FURNACE. Shortly after MaryJanice signed the first contract with Berkley, we asked Cindy who the young adult editor was at Berkley. Cindy's perfect answer: she was. She agreed to consider the manuscript. So we sent it in, and waited.

A year later, Cindy did get around to reading it. (She's very busy, and we had to wait in the manuscript pile with everyone else!) She loved it, and we arranged a two-book contract for it. ANCIENT FURNACE has been out since August; the sequel, JENNIFER SCALES AND THE MESSENGER OF LIGHT, comes out in a couple of months.

How I got Published

2006-04-10T10:06:00.000-07:00

This week's theme is "How I got Published" and I am anxious to hear what the others have to say. After all, I slid my finished manuscript under the stall door in the ladie's room at National Conference when a Berkley editor asked if anyone had any toilet paper and she stayed in there for hours, engrossed with my book and had to offer me a book contract because of my ingenious pitch. NOT.

Actually, the truth is less exciting and dramatic than that. And its littered with rejections and unsold manuscripts. Okay, one previous unsold manuscript but still, my first sale is sort of a Cinderella story.

My first book was written specifically for Harlequin's Flipside. I pitched it at a local conference. The lovely editor asked if it was complete. I looked her right in the eye and explained I was in final revisions. She was delighted and asked me to send the full. Of course, it was not done. Actually, it wasn't even started :)

So I took my plot outline (I did have that, at least) and wrote. Five months later I shipped it to Harlequin. In the next month, Harlequin announced the demise of Flipside. Ugh. Did I learn any lessons from this? A) Don't base your career on targeting a single line. You must be fluid. If you choose to write category, try writing for more than one imprint so if the line closes, your career isn't dead in the water. B) Have the book written when you pitch it. If I'd had the manuscript done, I might have sold to Flipside before they went defunk and had at least one sale under my belt.

Four months after I sent my manuscript in, I received the nicest rejection letter. She loved my voice, thought the characters were likable and the storyline fresh. She would suggest a few revisions if she was to request it such as too much expository and frequent POV switches but since the line was gone....yada, yada, yada. Unfortunately for me the book didn't fit any of the other lines but thanks for playing, please try again.

Hmmm, she didn't hate it. In fact, it sounded as though she might have bought it if I could revise the manuscript to her liking. This was promising. Having learned my lesson, I completed a manuscript before I pitched this time. Since I wrote a YA single title I knew I needed an agent. I belonged to a YA List and they recently posted agents who repped YA. So I took the five on the list and researched them. Who did they represent? What was their reputation like? etc. Then I queried them. I received 4 form letter rejections and 1 send me what you got. So I sent it out and that agent called me. She loved it, she thought she could sell it. Let's talk business.

I will thrilled. It was a major agent for a major agency. She was a dream agent. She made suggestion on how to strengthen my book and I applied them to my manuscript. It was ready for the show. She sent it out on a Friday afternoon and when she arrived to work on Monday, she had an offer on her voicemail. And that is how I got published.

-Serena

It's...Author Idol!

2006-04-07T18:39:00.000-07:00

Bev: Hi, I'm Bev, and this is...Author Idol! Let's say hi to our fabulous judges. First, we have Agent X, who's been in the biz for...how long now, Agent X?

Agent X: Ten looong years, Bev. All you aspiring authors out there, listen up: I don't give a rat's you-know-what if your mother likes your book!

Bev: Wow, people really say that in their query letters? Oh, wait a minute. Just the other day, I told my agent my daughter really loved my latest. Oops. Okay, let's move on to our next judge, Writer Y, who's been writing bestsellers since the '90s.

Agent X (muttering): Oh, come on, she wrote two bestsellers and they blew chunks. She's just a pretty face who got lucky.

Writer Y (angrily): Excuse me, did you say something, X? If you have something to say to me, you can say it to my face, and to all our wonderful fans out there.

Agent X: You're just so well-spoken, Y. How can I possibly say it to your face and to all our fans at the same time?

Writer Y(exasperated): I didn't mean at the same ti--oh, never mind. It's just not worth it.

Agent X: How did I get here?

Writer Y: X, this show has made you a millionaire, so just shut it, please.

Bev: Um, can we move on? It's time to pick this week's author idol. First up is Judy Blume, who, as you all know, has been writing groundbreaking young adult novels for several decades. Agent X, your opinion?

Agent X: Sure. Who wants to read about girls menstruating? I mean, does anyone really care?

Writer Y: I don't believe this. You just can't see outside of your little realm of experience, can you, X?

Bev: So, Y, I guess that means you're a big Blume fan?

Writer Y: Absolutely, Bev. Judy Blume is an international treasure. There should be a religion named after her, and we should all worship at the altar of Blume.

Agent X: Why am I doing this?

Bev: Okay, audience, you've heard what our judges think about our first contestant. Our next contestant is Meg Cabot, author of the hugely successful Princess Diaries series, as well as numerous other novels. X, what do you think about Ms. Cabot?

Agent X: Again, Bev, I just don't care about girly fantasies.

Writer Y: Oh, Lord, X, weren't you listening? She's written tons of other stuff besides the Princess Diaries series, every book of which is completely and totally awesome, by the way. She's just soooo funny and smart.

Bev: So, Y, if you appreciate funny, you must be a fan of our next contestant, Louise Rennison.

Writer Y: Absolutely, Bev. She's fab, as Louise's British heroine Georgia Nicholson might say.

Bev: X? What do you think?

Agent X: Well, Rennison's a good stylist, but those books aren't really about anything, are they?

Writer Y; God, X, didn't you watch Seinfeld?

Agent Y (impatiently): Bev, is there no male contestant today?

Bev: Well, actually, there is. Our final contestant is Scott Westerfeld, author of the Uglies series. He also wrote the Midnight Hour series, and several stand-alone novels.

Agent X: Oh, him.

Writer Y: Okay, X, what problem can you possibly have with Scott Westerfeld?

Agent X: Well, the Uglies series is really about the female preoccupation with looks, isn't it?

Writer Y (her head in her hands): How can you possibly say that, X? His books are so much larger than that. They're about our shallow society--who is rewarded, who isn't, and why.

Bev: Okay, kids, let's stop that nasty bickering! It's time to vote for our author idol. And in case you didn't catch the message of today's post, it's that no author can please everybody! Different idols for different folks, and all that jazz! Till next week, this is Katz Rosenbaum, out...

Who do I read?

2006-04-07T11:41:00.000-07:00

I have many, many “must-have” authors on my list. Not to mention all of the fabulous authors on this blog, there’s Karen Moning, Jill Monroe, Kresley Cole, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Linda Howard, Candace Havens, Susan Grant, JR Ward, Carly Phillips, Robin Owens, Rachel Gibson, Katie MacAlister, Robin McKinnely. . . Dear Lord. (No, that last one isn't an author) I truly could go on and on. I think it’s wonderful that there is so much talent out there. So many different voices, storylines, characters to chose from.

Some of the first authors I read and fell in love with were Marion Chesney, Francine Pascal and Johanna Lindsey. If an author can make me forget the world around me, I'm theirs forever!

Hey, mine too!

2006-04-05T19:43:00.000-07:00

Anthony here. (MaryJanice got to do last week's bit on our engagement, because I was too drunk to remember it. Kidding.) I'm preparing the post and I ask MaryJanice, "who's our author idol?"

"I hate the word 'idol'," she says while perusing a Martha Stewart magazine. (Seriously.) "I don't have an idol."

"Sure you do," I say. "Me."

"Get bent," she replies. "Hey, look at this - Passover Desserts."

"You're my idol," I tell her.

"Knock it off. The first two posts this week were bad enough. Wow, coconut whipped cream on a flourless chocolate cake. Aren't you a Lord of the Rings freak?"

"Yeah, but the books weren't great because of the writing," I point out. "They were great because of the world J.R.R. built, the languages and the places and such. I tend not to idolize entire authors, but I do wish I had the skill Carl Hiaasen had with building interesting characters, or the commitment Diana Gabaldon had to research and detail. So my idol is an amalgam of several authors."

She flips a page of the magazine carelessly. "Congratulations, stud. 'Amalgam' is almost as useless a word as 'idol'."

Why do you care about Passover Desserts, anyway? We don't observe that holiday."

"Martha's so imaginative," she answers, licking her lips at a carrot bunt-cake. "And she's a self-made woman. I really admire her."

"And she does books as well as magazines, doesn't she?"

"Yeah."

"So you might say," I conclude cleverly, "that she's your - "

"Shut your trap."

Anyway, we apparently have no idols. Sorry to come up dry.

Grr.. My idol was stolen

2006-04-04T16:15:00.000-07:00

Today is an exciting day for me! My vampire comedy BOYS THAT BITE hits bookstore shelves. Yay! It’s no longer just pre-orderable. It’s buyable. As in you can go out and buy it. Now, if you’d like. No, no, it’s okay – you can finish reading my blog later. I promise to wait and not be the least bit offended.

Anyway we’re on author idols, right? Which would be authors that are not me. Even though I do have a book out. Today.

Um, yeah.

ANYWAY -- when I came up with this topic, I was going to say that one of my writing idols was our very own MaryJanice Davidson and that her Undead and Unwed series helped inspire me to write Boys that Bite. But then that sneaky little Serena Robar (who, please note, put herself FIRST in the blogging order) stole my idea and wrote exactly that in her entry yesterday. Then she says to me that it’s too late. MJ’s taken. Too bad. So sad. Pick again.

Hmph.

So okay, fine. Forget MJ. I’m changing my answer to Sherrilyn Kenyon of the Dark Hunter fame. She is just so cool I can barely stand it. First, she’s a former goth girl, just like me. Second, she writes vampire stories, just like me. Third, she’s a bestselling author. Hm. Well, okay, not just like me. Well, at least not yet!

Anyway – the reason I idolize Sherrilyn is because she is a promotions and marketing whiz. (I also idolize Christine Feehan and Katie MacAlister for the same reason – I don’t know what it is about vamp authors!) When Sherrilyn started her Dark Hunters series she created this amazing website. Not any old author website where you could read summaries of her books and a bio. She created a world. One where people could spend hours role playing and interacting. Basically living her books. Talk about inspiring series loyalty! She is not just an author, she’s a world builder. And once she creates those worlds, she lets people play in them.

I got to hear her speak at a conference last fall and was blown away by all her amazing promo suggestions. After her session, I timidly approached the podium and showed her my cover for Boys that Bite. I could barely breathe in her presence and my hands were shaking. She looked at the cover and said, “You should have pins made up that say ‘BITE ME’ just like the character is wearing.” Simple suggestion – but I’d never thought of it! This is why she is Sherrilyn Kenyon and I’m just Mari. For now, anyway.

Oh, and yes, I did get BITE ME pins made just like she suggested and I plan to track her down at the Romantic Times convention and give her one.

And hey Serena? I might even give MJ one too – and you can’t stop me! Nyah, nyah, nyah!

Mari

My Author Idol

2006-04-03T09:15:00.000-07:00

I get to kick off Author Idol week here at the YA paranormal blog. Mari picked the themes for this month in honor of her "Boys That Bite" release this month. Run, don't walk to bookstores to pick it up. It's FAB!

If you are like me you have several "must have" authors. They are on your auto buy list. This means you don't even have to read the back cover when the book comes out, you just snatch it off the shelf and hug it to your breast fiercely with a look of sublime happiness on your face. Hey, I heard that snigger. Dude, don't judge me. You know you totally do it too.

My auto buy list contains such names as Julie Garwood, Judith McNaught, Jude Deveraux and our very own MaryJanice Davidson who is currently at the very top of my author idol list. Yes, yes, I am sure MJ is blushing on the sidelines (more like rolling her eyes and whispering 'sucker') but ever since I found the Undead series, I discovered writing vampires could be funny which in turn, inspired me to write my teen vampire series.

At this point I would normally break out in song, "Did you ever know that you're my her-o?" but anyone who has ever heard me Karaoke at the Emerald City Writers Conference knows better than to encourage that kind of behavior. So cheers to MJ, and all those other authors currently reigning on my auto buy list. I am a poorer, er, better person because of you!
-Serena

Hi, I'm Bev and I'm Not Funny

2006-03-31T18:33:00.000-08:00

And that's no joke. Indeed, there is a very great irony in the fact that I am the one posting on April Fool's Day. Meet the comedy writer who's not funny. At least, not practical joke funny. Would you believe I've never even played one? Like Mari, who blogged about her own practical joke deficiency earlier in the week, I don't like being tricked or playing tricks.

I can't tell a joke on demand for my life, either. Can't ever remember any. There's one knock-knock joke I always recite when ordered to tell a joke, and it's a really bad one. (Knock knock, who's there? Lettuce. Lettuce who? Let us in, it's cold outside. Cue groans from the children.)

Nor am I a party jokester of the lampshade-on-the-head variety. This undoubtedly stems from being related to several party jokesters of the lampshade-on-the-head variety.

And I definitely don't get visual humor. My kids are always having to explain commercials to me. (Mom's constant refrain: "I don't get it.")

My brand of humor is more the sly, sarcastic kind, which some people don't consider funny at all. And they kind of have a point. More often than not, this brand of humor comes out of anger and pain. (The well-adjusted comics, in contrast, grow up putting O'Henry bars in their school pools, as Howie Mandel once did at my husband's school.)

But back to the practical joke thing. Luckily, I'm married to a guy who's good at them. His specialty is fake news stories. Hopefully he's come up with one to fool the kiddies with today. And hopefully, I'll understand why it's funny...

Till next time,

Bev

Genetic Jokesters

2006-03-31T08:49:00.000-08:00

I’ve been a practically jokester all my life. I come by it honestly, though, as my dad is the exact same way. He played jokes on me and my sisters all through our childhood. We were told the Snipes would eat our toes if we left them uncovered at night. He once called me from a payphone, pretending to be the boy who’d told my friend he planned to ask me out. I was not attracted to this boy and had never had to turn someone down before (I hadn’t gotten to accept many dates, either, for that matter) so I wrote a speech with my mom’s help on how to let him down gently. Anyway, my dad called pretending to be this boy and I read him my speech. My dad (who I still thought was the boy) said, “But I think you’re a fox.” I did the “uh, uh” thing as I tried to think of how best to respond. That’s when my dad started laughing and admitted what he’d done.

The boy never called me.

What else, what else….I’ve told people I was pregnant when I wasn’t. My sister once collected political stands from different yards and stuck them all in her friend’s front yard. There were so many stands, you couldn’t even see the grass! I “accidentally” called my parents butt *kissers* in the dedication of a book. Alright fine. It really was an accident. But they laughed about it, and teased me about it being a joke.

My family, well, I love them dearly! I wouldn’t trade them and their jokes for anything in the world.
-Gena

Pity the April Fool

2006-03-30T17:36:00.000-08:00

In my never-ending quest to be the world's biggest loser, I think April Fool's Day is the most romantic day of the year. Screw Valentine's. The day you can accidentally sit on a rubber bladder which farts is the day that brings misty remembrances of love to my eyes.

Wow. That was purple, wasn't it?

Okay, so, I met my husband the first week of college. He was 17, I was 18. And there was never anyone else, for either of us. And let me tell you, it's tough meeting the guy you know you'll marry early in his education. Anthony was determined to get an undergraduate degree, and then go on to Harvard and get a Master's. He had zero interest in getting married while still in school. I had zero interest in going to college. Which meant a minimum of a six year wait to get the ring on my finger, and that was only if we got married the second he got his grubby hands on the graduate degree.

Loser that I was (am), I'd already spent years of study hall leafing through Bride, Bride's, Minnesota Bride, Midwestern Bride, and Bridal Guide. Dammit, I wanted to get married NOW. I had the dress all picked out!

My then-boyfriend was more sanguine: we had the rest of our lives together, what was the big rush to throw an expensive party with cardboard-dry cake?

Men: just so stupid.

Then, of course, my friends started getting married. We both grew to dread these events: me, because I was insanely jealous of the brides, and him, because it was a guaranteed fight: "Yes, I know you love me but WHEN WILL YOU COUGH UP A RING ALREADY?"

It's worth mentioning at this point that we had (have) nothing in common: religiously, politically, economically...nothing. His parents weren't exactly thrilled that their baby boy was seeing a mini-skirted, bleached blonde redneck whose biggest aspiration was to trap their son with an unwanted pregnancy. My father was appalled that his redneck daughter had fallen for an East Coast fellow, a Harvard guy who didn't know which end of a fishing pole was up.

I was able to shrug all that stuff off. So my father's fingers twitched toward his shotgun whenever my boyfriend came over. So his mom actually cringed when I explained why killing and eating animals on your own property was a good thing. (Mmm...that's good duck!) I didn't care about THAT. The ring on my finger. That's what I cared about.

So, what with one fight and another, four years go by and he's just about got his hands on the undergrad degree. He's about to leave for the summer and I'm resigning myself to another summer by myself, flipping through Angry Bride Magazine. We're both trying not to fight.

He goes to his overnight bag and takes out a small box. A small jewelry box. A small box that was just the right size to hold, say, an engagement ring.

Don't do this, I thought. It's earrings, I thought.

He popped it open. I slammed my eyes shut. No shit, I mean, my lids went DOWN.

"Mare?"

"No."

"Mary?"

"No."

"Hon, open your eyes."

I'm crying now. "No."

"Hon." A tone I knew well: exasperation and love, coupled with the urge to strangle me. "Come on."

I opened my watering eyes. And there, nestled in the box, the ring of my dreams...nestled in the box, my dreams, period.

"Is it a joke?" I asked, very quietly.

"A mistake, probably," he said, slipping it onto my finger, "but no joke."

It was April 1st, 1991.

Revenge on the Fools

2006-03-28T15:44:00.000-08:00

I am so lame. The topic is best April Fool's Day joke and I have nothing to write about. I've been racking my brain and sadly I can't think of a single April Fool's Day joke that I played on anyone. I never put honey in my mom's bottle of conditioner. I never told a boyfriend that I won the lottery. I might have at some point in elementary school said, "Your shoe's untied, April Fools!" but I'm not sure if I did it on the correct day or if that really counts anyway.

I'm not sure why this is the case. Why some people are drawn to playing pranks and tricking others and some don't find it amusing whatsoever. I don't like to be tricked myself and maybe that's why I don't like tricking others.

However, once in a while I make an exception. When people truly deserve it. One time in high school comes to mind. This wasn't technically an April Fool's Day joke, but it was definitely an effective prank.

When I was in high school I was told I wasn't supposed to hang out with a boy named Brian. My parents felt he was no good. (Do you see a pattern here from previous blogs?) Of course I didn't agree and he became my best friend behind their backs. So one day this girl Crissinda who hated me decided it would be "fun" to prank call up my parents using an assumed name and tell them that I was hanging out with Brian. Well, neither Brian nor I were too happy about this little "joke" - especially since it could get me in serious trouble with the 'rents.

So we decided to play a little joke back on Crissinda. She was hanging out over our friend John's house. So I drove Brian to the end of the street. He jumped out of the car and ran to John's house, bursting through the door, totally out of breath.

"What's wrong?" Crissinda asks. She and Brian aren't exactly friends, but they're not enemies either and they travel in the same circles.

"Some idiot called Marianne's parents and told them she was with me! And they called the police! They showed up at my house and I barely escaped."

"Oh my god!" Crissinda cries, seriously freaked out. "Where is Marianne?"

"How the hell should I know?" Brian says. "I haven't seen her in days!"(Brian is a good liar/actor. Sadly, he often used this talent for evil rather than good, which is probably why the 'rents didn't want me hanging with him... But when Brian was on your side, you had a very good advocate. Just don't ever cross him.)

"Well how about I call up Marianne's parents and say she's with me?" Crissinda suggests, panicked that she's just inadvertantly gotten Brian in trouble with the law.

Brian kept her hanging for a bit, then finally admitted he was just effing with her and we'd made up the entire thing. Crissinda was soo not pleased, let me tell you. But hey - she never called my parents' house again! (Though she did plenty of other mean things - but I'll save that for another blog day.)

Mari

April Fools

2006-03-26T20:44:00.000-08:00

Just a few days until April Fool's Day and we thought this would be the week to confess our best April Fools' gags. I, for one, love an elaborate practical joke. My all time favorite was one I pulled on a good friend D. We used to work with each other in retail cosmetics.

Anyway, it all started when one of the stock guys pointed out a personal ad from the local paper where a gentleman was trying to find a certain cosmetic girl who helped him pick out a cologne. He said she was a blonde bombshell. Now D is definately blonde and yes, pretty much a bombshell (think Wonder Woman's Linda Carter with blonde hair) . Now, she didn't work in men's fragrance but L did, who is also a blonde bombshell, just 10 years older than D. All the girls were required to help each other out so anyone could have been the one who helped this guy (I would like to point out that I too, am blonde and worked right next to the men's fragrance counter....) But D just knew it was her.

When L spoke up and said, "Hey, it could have been me." D replied, "L, your not exactly bombshell material." Yes, the gloves had come off. My duty was clear. I told no one my plan. I placed my own ad the very next day. It was to the blonde bombshell with blue eyes and I went on to describe D perfectly. My ad said she was everything a man could want. I just waited. I knew the stock guy read the personals, I knew he would bring it to her attention. I knew I didn't have to do anything else but watch events unfurl.

Sure enough, the next week, stock guy showed her the ad. She went on and on how she knew it was her that the previous ad referred to. Who else could be the bombshell? Who indeed? The next week, it was April Fools Day. I placed yet another ad, begging the bombshell to call and arrange a time to meet her admirer.

In the mall where we worked, Hallmark had a card station set up where you could make a personalized card. I found the perfect one. On the front was a picture of personal ads and a blank one was circled in red. You got to fill out the ad with your own message and add a sentiment inside the card so I wrote.

Roses are Red Violets are Pinker

And when you opened the card it continued,

You fell for our ad, Hook, line and sinker.

Then I had all the blonde girls in cosmetics sign the card. I left the card on her register. We all knew about the ads, after all, D was so proud of them. She was the blonde bombshell. L and I waited with baited breathe for D to get to work and notice the card. When she read it, the entire department had crept toward her bay to watch her expression. When she digested what had happened, she looked up and said, "Oh, you guys!" and we all laughed. No one more than D. There was applause and she bowed down to L and I, exclaiming how she wasn't worthy. That's right. Whenever you get a little too cocky, a little too full of yourself, one of your friends will always put you back in your place.

After all, that's what friends are for. Especially around April Fool's Day!

-Serena

Bobby Sherman Forever

2006-03-25T09:30:00.000-08:00

Yup, Bobby Sherman was my first love. Star of 1971's ill-fated musical sit-com, "Getting Together" (which came about after the irresistable Bobster guested on The Partridge Family). Previous to "Getting Together", of course (and yes, I'm well aware I'm reallly dating myself here) was the ultra-fab "Here Come the Brides" (which ran for several seasons, lest you think my Bobby was a one-hit wonder).

What's that? You think it's cheating to name a celebrity as my first love? Are you kidding me? Whose first love--I'm talkin' knee-wobbling, fantasy-inducing, take-up-space-24/7-in-the-brain kind of first love--isn't of the celluloid/fanzine variety? (And yes, Mary Janice and Tony, you're absolutely right when you say this isn't 'real' love. But we always think it is!)

And is it any wonder we fall for our screen idols? What real boy--what arrogant jock, what pathetic nerd, what snotty sci-fi geek--can possibly compare to those perfect specimens of male beauty and charisma we see weekly on our TV and movie screens? The answer is not a one, my friends. Not a one.

And what an astonishing variety of celebrity crushes one has to choose from these days! (Says she who lined up for six hours with her daughter to get rush seats to the world premiere of Elizabethtown, starring Orlando Bloom.) In my day, the choice was between David Cassidy and my beloved Bobby. David seemed a little too cocky for me (though now, in retrospect, I realize there was a certain brilliance, a very nice tongue-in-cheek quality to his portrayal of the gorgeous but conceited Keith Partridge). Bobby was all sweetness and dimples, with a tad of open-necked (ah, the chokers!) sexiness.

I had--have--no idea, of course, what type of person Bobby really was. (Although The Official Bobby Sherman Website tells me he has become an EMT/Sheriff, which confirms that he is, in fact, the do-gooder I always thought he was.) But isn't that the whole point of celebrity crushes? No messiness! No flaws! We can impose our own ideals onto the objects of our desire.

Maybe it's only once we've lived a little longer and realized nobody's perfect, that messiness and flaws are, in fact, part of life and love, that we can start dealing with real people instead of celluloid fantasies.

Till next time,

Bev (off to watch Law and Order reruns with Chris Noth--sigh...)

First Love

2006-03-24T12:13:00.000-08:00

I actually married my first love. I was eighteen at the time, he was seventeen. He’d tell you I robbed the cradle, but I’d retaliate by telling you that his mommy had to sign the marriage license (so we won’t go there!). He might have told my parents that he liked my “smile” and my “sense of humor” but the truth is he found me irresistible in my short cheerleading skirt. I liked his tight butt in that football uniform. Outfit. Whatever it’s called.

I remember the first night we met. We went to a haunted house with a group of mutual friends and rode in the same car. He’d come to hook up with my best girlfriend, but he took one look at me and changed his mind. Okay, so I kind of forced him to change his mind. I threw myself at him. Happy now? In my defense, it only took a few minutes to show him the error of his ways. (Not counting the fact that he tried to save his own life by giving me to the spooky guy with the chainsaw…)

We’ve been together many (mmmaaaannnnyyyy) years now (he’d say ‘eternity’ and I’d retaliate by popping the back of his head, so once again we won’t go there) and we’re happier than ever. Do I recommend this for everyone? Uh, no. No, no, and no. Marrying as young as we did, we had to grow up together and it wasn’t always pretty. Still, I guess it’s safe to say that I wouldn’t trade the little turd for anything.

Sk8er Boy

2006-03-22T13:19:00.000-08:00

He was a sk8er boi, she said see you later boy...

It's an Avril Lavigne song, the title of my first teen book, and a description of my first love.

Yup, he actually was a skater boy. Though I certainly didn't say "see you later, boy." I was 15, but I was no stuck up ballerina who thought I was too good for him. No, the first time I saw Russ doing some mad trick on his board, I was totally hooked. Plus he was soo cute, with curly blonde hair and green eyes. Yum! One night he came over for a barbecue and all the neighbor kids decided to play hide and seek. Russ and I hid together, alone in the dark. He asked if I wanted to go out with him. I said yes.

Then he kissed me. God, what a good kisser! I don't think I even liked kissing very much before I met Russ. And then, suddenly, I couldn't get enough of locking lips. Yum, yum, yum!

But as those of you who read Sk8er Boy might be guessing, he lived on the proverbial wrong side of the tracks of my town. Not that I was rich like Dawn. We were strictly middle class. But that didn't mean my mom was going to let me head over to the crackhead section of town to hang out under a parking deck with a boy she didn't know. Not that she had anything personal against Russ, you see, but she just didn't like his neighborhood. Or his friends. And also, at 15, she didn't believe I should be dating. Especially not a boy who had a car.

So I snuck around. I got caught. I got grounded. My mom said Russ could come to my house to hang out, but I wasn't allowed to drive anywhere with him or go to his house. That pretty much limited our hang out opportunities.

And so, even though he liked me, Russ broke up with me. Looking back, I totally understand why he did it. I mean, what 17 year old wants to date a girl that can't even get into a car with you? Whose Mom disaproves of your income level to the point that she won't let her daughter come to your neighborhood? Bleh.

I was so sad when Russ broke up with me. Even though we only dated a month, I felt I'd lost the love of my life. I wrote poetry - so much really bad angsty poetry about that boy. I listened to the Smiths, the Cure, Depeche Mode - drowning my sorrows in music more depressed than I. And I would ride my bike downtown, against my mom's wishes, hoping for the chance to catch him skating under the parking deck. But soon winter came and there was no more skating. And he found a new girlfriend. One who was his age and allowed to date him. Debi. Grr. I still don't like poor Debi.

I have no idea what happened to Russ. For all I know he still lives downtown. Perhaps he even still skates. Perhaps he's even picked up my book and wondered if it was about him. Guess I'll never know.

What I do know is that I will always have a soft spot for that skater boy....

My Sk8er Boy, Russ

First and Last Love

2006-03-22T13:04:00.001-08:00

As the resident "couple" in this blog spot, we are happy to say we have much to offer on the topic of first love.

Unfortunately, most of it is not printable - here or anywhere else.

In all seriousness, our story is rather sickening - we're each other's first, and last, love. (Or so MaryJanice claims.) While both of us had dated before we met each other, we met each other young enough (18) where neither of us had even suffered the illusion of true love for any significant length of time. This was nice, not to have to suffer the level of heartbreak beyond high school crushes.

(Honestly, if you're really young - and we know you hate to hear this - you haven't experienced the full thing yet. And that's not necessarily good! Think of it as the difference between bumping into someone in the school hallway, and getting hit by an eighteen-wheeler while standing in the passing lane of a divided highway.)

What does "first love" mean eighteen and a half years later? It means that each of us can remember our first meeting (MaryJanice was wearing an olive green sweater and cheap sunglasses), our first date (McDonald's and the movie Roxanne, because Anthony was a poor college student), our first argument (MaryJanice was wrong), our second argument (MaryJanice was wrong again...what, you thought we were alternating these?), and so on. We dated for four years, were engaged for two, and have been married ever since. Kids and dog came later.

The secret to making first love last? We'll save that for another blog, but here's a clue: it involves lobster tails...oh, and continually ceding arguments to MaryJanice. Even when she's wrong. (Which she is.)

Spring Fling: First loves

2006-03-20T08:03:00.000-08:00

Ah Spring! The birds are chirping, the buds are blooming and people everywhere are becoming twitter-patted. Is anything grander than a Spring Time romance? This week, we will be exploring our first loves and I can sincerely say, I remember it like it was uh, twenty odd years ago.

He was a gallant young man, quick to come to my defense on the playfield. Sandy brown hair that he constantly brushed away from his eyes. He was taller than me and I was totally unprepared when he slung his rugged, masculine arm over my shoulder after a rather riveting Show-and-Tell circle time.
It was so unexpected, so sweet, so guileless.

I slugged him in the gut.

Well, what did you expect. It was kindergarten for goodness sake and he put his arm around my shoulders. Have you ever heard of such boldness in a 5 year old boy? His name was Dirk. Yes, I didn't make that up. Dirk. Ahh, where are you now, my bold warrior Dirk?

Of course, over the years I have learned that slugging my suitor in the gut will not exactly ensure his lasting affections. I did much better with the next kind of first love. The first unrequited crush where the target of my affection had no idea that I adored him and was completely oblivious to my puppy dog stares and writer's cramp caused by hours of doodling "I love such and such" on my pee-chee during class. But it didn't last long.

There was a time where I could be ignored with the best of them. A very short time that lasted the length of exactly one unrequited secret crush. I usually take the direct approach. I would rather state my affections and be rejected than wonder "what if" and never take a chance. That's just me. After all, if confessing my undying love didn't have the desired affect, I could always resort to slugging them in the gut. :)

-Serena

Gym class, or The Ultimate Humiliation

2006-03-17T19:28:00.000-08:00

I can't even believe no one's talked abut gym class yet! Humiliation Central as far as the high school me was concerned. Shall I begin with the ugly bloomer thingie I was required to wear? Nah, everyone suffered that particular humiliation, so it hardly counts. Let's talk about the countless humiliations experienced solely by moi.

Let's start off by picking a random sport--say, floor hockey. Wow, how do I even count the humiliations? Scoring in my own team's net, hitting myself in the leg, teammates shouting at other teammates not to pass to me... (Not that I wanted anybody to pass me anything. Every gym-hater out there can relate to the universal gym prayer: Please don't pass the ball/puck/birdie to me. Please don't pass the ball/puck/birdie to me...

What really sucks is that the high school gym program doesn't seem to have changed one iota since then. Which kinda drives me crazy, seeing as there's been a fitness revolution or three since then. Just think about all the new things people are doing to stay in shape these days: yoga, martial arts, dance, etc. Yeah, I know, gym teachers aren't qualified to teach this stuff. Which is sort of my point. Maybe they should be!

My best day in high school gym came in the tenth grade. It was the day after a ballet recital in which I had a major solo. Turned out my gym teacher's daughter attended the same ballet school as me. Mr. Sparks, who was actually a nice guy, not your stereotypical gorilla-type gym teacher, came up to me and said, "You were very good last night," and asked me to lead the warmup. Which really threw me for a loop. I have no idea what I did. I think I've blocked it out. But give the man some points for making the gesture. I like to think I made him at least ponder the possibility of doing something different in gym class.

Yeah, I know, what planet am I on.

Sadly, my daughter seems to have inherited the non-sports gene. But as she's much more well-adjusted than I am, she just thinks it's funny. (Although she did succesfully audition for a high school for the arts, I think primarily because there she can take dance instead of gym.) My son, a laid back surfer-type dude, likes playing a friendly game of basketball, but as soon as the name-calling and/or fighting begins, he just looks at everybody as if to say, "Dudes, is it really worth it?" He's great with kids, by the way. It's my hope he'll become a school teacher and lead the gym revolution.

Until then, maybe those of us still traumatized by our gym class memories can form some sort of support group. At the very least, we can blog about our experiences...

Till next time,

Bev

Just a day in the life...

2006-03-17T08:20:00.000-08:00

Let’s see…I’ve always been prone to humiliating experiences so I might as well just give you a list:

I’ve accidentally flashed my dad.
I’ve walked around with my dress tucked into my underwear (at a writer’s convention).
I spoke at a writer’s event with a ginormous chocolate glob on my light pink shirt – and I didn’t know it.
I once tried to show off a really cool dance move and fell flat on my face -- in front of the boy I was dating and all of his friends.
I had food stuck in my teeth during an important dinner and no one told me.
I wrecked into a parked car after dropping my friend off. It was her neighbor’s.
My hair frizzes up every time it rains.
Right now, even though I’m 30 years old, I have six – SIX! – pimples on my face.
I once dove into a pool and lost my top.

Okay, I could go on, but I better stop before I begin sobbing LOL

Humiliation in High School

2006-03-15T09:19:00.000-08:00

If you ask the average American what the most humiliating experience of his or her life has been, you will more likely than not hear a story about high school.

For example, MaryJanice once slipped on a pickle slice and fell on her ass in front of the entire cafeteria crowd.

Anthony's humiliations were more private, consisting mainly of getting dropped faster and harder than a kung fu movie extra by a succession of short brunettes. (His success record improved measurably when he started going after tall blondes, going 1 for 1 for the rest of his life. That's batting a thousand, people!)

But humiliations are, for all their humiliatingitudiness, useful things. They burn in the brain like a hot needle suspended in butter - and the butter never, ever forgets about the needle. Which presumably helps the butter avoid further mishaps with hot needles, the first of which would never have happened if the damn butter had just kept its tiny, slippery hands away from the sewing kit and the microwave.

One of the joys of writing young adult fiction is the chance to revisit past humiliations and perhaps excise a few demons. Another joy comes in reversing the tables, so that all the characters you've written as bullies get their asses kicked. Still another joy comes in watching your favorite characters deal with the humiliation with more poise and maturity than you ever could at 14 or 15 years old. That last one is perhaps the best joy of all.

Wait, no, MaryJanice wants to go with the one where we humiliate other people. Okay, yep, the second one. That's the best.

Jennifer Scales, our "third child", is up for some fairly humiliating moments in the books to come. Some are funny, some are flat-out unfunny. But she'll get through them just fine.

Probably.

- AA & MJ

I flirted, I drank, I threw up in his lap.

2006-03-14T16:18:00.000-08:00

Most embarassing moment, eh? That's easy to remember, though kind of embarassing to admit.

So I was at this work party and this guy I thought was really cute was there. He'd just gotten dumped by his fiancé and was pretty bummed so I figured it would be a good idea to keep him company and flirt with him a bit. He was drinking margaritas and even though I'm more of a wine drinker, I decided when in Rome...drink tequila. Or something like that. Even though I'm not sure they drank tequila in Rome. Which I guess that's why this is my embarassing story instead of some Roman dude's.

Anyway, the night went on. I flirted. I drank. I was having a darn good time. When it came time to go home, the guy I had been flirting with asked my friend if she'd give him a ride as well. Designated driver, you see. Very smart.

What wasn't so smart was my decision to get in the backseat with Cute Boy and let Pam chauffer us around. Because, you see,, as soon as she stepped on the gas, I started feeling sick. Very sick. Drunk and trapped in the backseat of the car very sick.

And then I threw up.

In his lap.

I know, I know. I'm not proud. But you said most embarassing moment, right? Eesh!

Anyway - if this were a book story, it'd probably have some nice compact moral lesson ending. Like the next morning Cute Boy wanted nothing to do with me because of the incident and I learned my lesson never to drink too much at a party again. But actually real life Cute Boy didn't seem to mind that much and we ended up dating for several months after the incident. Shrug. Guess real life is stranger than fiction.

-Marianne

Humiliation Extrodinaire

2006-03-13T10:52:00.000-08:00

This week kicks off "Our most Embarrassing Moments" and sadly, I can't seem to narrow it down to just one. I mean really, do I pick the time in Junior High School when I was acting as catcher for the softball team and my period started, staining my pink uniform and the umpire had to stop the game so I could go change and come back? Yeah, that was fun. No lasting trauma from that experience, I can assure you.

Or, do I pick the time in high school when my boyfriend made out with my best friend. We were at my cousin's wedding and he asked for the keys to my car and I gave them to him (not knowing he was planning to get to second base with her in the backseat of my Volkswagon Bug). Everyone at the reception knew what they were up to but me. My mom had to enlighten me. Yeah, that was fun too.

I guess what I am saying is that life is full of humiliating moments. They are unavoidable. But they can make you stronger. Now, I can laugh about all of the experiences and when something humiliating happens, I know I will survive it. I will learn from it and hopefully, avoid repeating it.

You can read all about my most humiliating date in the back of braced2bite, a part of my Super Secret Author Confessions. Why are we sharing these embarrasing moments? To prove you are not alone. It happens to everyone. Sharing the humiliation just brings us closer. It's like free therapy. Just don't ask to borrow my car keys.

Paranormal (aka oh, yeah!) vs. Normal (aka blah)

2006-03-11T14:22:00.000-08:00

Quite simply, paranormal rocks! Vampires, aliens, dragons, magic. . . you name it, I love it. It’s fun. It’s wild. It’s never boring and there’s always something new. Let’s face it; the possibilities are endless. A distant land populated by handsome princes who think YOU are the most beautiful creature ever created. Fierce monsters only YOU can tame. A war only YOU can stop. Whatever your imagination can create, you can experience: love, power, a journey out of the ordinary and into the extraordinary. That’s why paranormal is better than normal. Anytime. Every time.

Flying the Freak Flag

2006-03-11T05:33:00.000-08:00

Why be normal when you can be paranormal, indeed. Can I just say those shop & talk books--you know the ones I mean, with girls sitting around at cafes jawing on about guys--bore me to tears? Give me a plot! Give me excitement! Give me action! I read--and write--to escape. You want to escape, too? I say, escape all the way, baby. Ain't no half measures with a paranormal book. You can escape into a whole new world!

Having said that, I would also offer the argument that the teen paranormal novel, new world and all, provides a kind of hyper-realistic vision of teen life. Adolescence is a confusing, disturbing new world unto itself, and paranormal books portray its confusing, disturbing elements quite literally. Joss Whedon created Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the premise that high school is hell. Sheer brilliance to portray it as an actual hell. (I want to write a book with an alien protagonist just so I can say my novel explores teen alienation..!)

If, in most teen novels, the main characters are outcasts, in paranormal books, they're the ultimate outcasts. In my October Berkley Jam release, I Was a Teenage Popsicle, my heroine, Floe Ryan, is the first cryonically preserved human being to be thawed. Ten years have passed since she was frozen, and there have been big changes in just about every area of life on Earth. Talk about feeling out of it.

I would venture a guess that my co-bloggers, like me, probably felt 'different' in high school. Well, we know at least one of them did. Earlier this week, Mari talked about being a goth in h.s. I wasn't a cool freak like her, just your garden variety socially maladjusted, semi-mute bookworm. (You'll be finding out a lot more about my pathetic h.s. life in coming weeks, when we'll be talking about our humiliating moments, first loves, etc. Hmm. Wonder if it's too late to back out of this whole deal...)

Maybe writing about uber-freaks, as I said in my bio, is a kind of therapy. (Yeah, of course the first blog topic has to be something I've already covered in my bio. I thought I was so smart, coming up with that whole paragraph about how my high school experiences made me into a paranormal writer. And can I just remind you here that my blog day is the last of the week, so the topic's also pretty much exhausted by the time I get to it? Although that's the kind of challenge a writer loves: taking something that's already been done and putting a whole new twist on it. I forget who it was who said that there are only six plots...)

Um, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah. My co-bloggers. On Wednesday, Mary Janice mentioned a letter she got from a reader who said, "Man, I thought high school sucked for me. What's next for Jennifer?" If I get a letter like that--if I can make just one kid know others are feeling as weird and lonely as she is (and make her laugh at the same time)--I'm pretty sure I'll be able to die happy.

Till next time,

Bev, proudly flying her freak flag

Normal? Huh?

2006-03-09T19:38:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'm writing a YA series with my 19 year old daughter (I'm sure y'all can figure out who is who in the pictures...). How could we be expected to write anything normal? Seriously - PARAnormal is our normal. Kristin grew up thinking there was a baby camel living in the glovebox of my car. Our "family" TV show was Beauty and the Beast. Remember that one? With Vincent? Kristin read Swamp Thing and The Dark Knight comics when she should have been watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with the "normal" kids.

Hey - the truth is paranormal is just more interesting. I mean, please. Why settle for normal?

Well, why not ?

2006-03-08T17:04:00.000-08:00

The theme: why be normal? Our reaction: cuz it sells, bay-bee, it SELLS!

(You're thinking, what are they, high? She writes about vampires and werewolves. Together they write about dragons who play soccer and give 'tude to the 'rents. Can they even spell normal?)

N-O-R-M-U-L-L, so there.

Okay, we'll elaborate. Sure, we love the paranormal, we love the weird stuff. We love when vampires get pissy and when werewolves can tell the future. We love when spiders talk and dragons snark.

But we love how they interact with regular folks more. And if they started out as regular folks? Started out "normal"? And then changed? Either on purpose or by accident of birth, or design, or just plain old dumb luck?

We REALLY love that.

Jennifer Scales, the heroine of our YA dragon series, thought she was normal until she grew wings and flew away. MJ's vampire heroine, Betsy Taylor (UNDEAD AND UNWED, etc.) was an out-of-work secretary until she got run over by a Pontiac Aztek and woke up dead. (Or undead, as it were.)

What makes these books so darned fun to write isn't the fact that our heroines can suddenly bench press a Ram Charger, but THEIR REACTION to suddenly being able to bench press a Ram Charger. If they hadn't started out normal, making them paranormal wouldn't be half so much fun.

Heck, the best part of the SPIDERMAN movie was watching Peter Parker figure out how to use his powers. Remember his glee as he mastered web shooting and went winging his way through downtown New York? Every geek in the country was grinning right along with him.

We get letters every week, and a lot of them go like this: "I'm a secretary, and I love how you made the queen of the vampires a laid-off administrative assitant." Or, "Man, I thought high school sucked for ME. What's next for Jennifer?" We love those. We love torturing our characters. Most of all, we love how normal they started out, and still are when it counts. Betsy ran to tell her mother she wasn't dead before she did anything else. Jennifer saved her dad, even though she was pissed at him.

Nice and normal, and thank goodness.

Normal Bites

2006-03-07T15:51:00.000-08:00

The question is “Why be normal” and actually that's been my mantra since I was in high school. I never wanted to be one of the cool kids—the cheerleaders, the jocks, the populars, etc. I wanted to hang with the artists, the skaters, the Goths, the punk rockers. I wanted to dress in black and pierce things and be an original and not care what everyone else said and did. It drove my parents crazy, sure, but I didn’t care.

I’m still that way today. I don’t care about what a girl like me “should” like. I care about what I “do” like. And then I run with it. So I party and go to concerts and dance at goth clubs and play videogames until 3 am. I don’t regret my tattoo (as my mother assured me I would someday) and I’d be happy to get another. I am a Joss Whedon disciple, but am also not ashamed to be addicted to the OC. I care about the situation in Iraq and I care about Angelina and Brad’s love child. I like obscure bands like Bauhaus and pop Emo like Dashboard Confessional. (I know you were thinking I was going to say I’m a closet Lindsay Lohan fan, but that’s taking things a bit too far.)

Anyway, the same goes for writing books. I want to write books on stuff I think is cool. I want to make up my own worlds and create my own creatures to inhabit them. I want to break the rules and remake them to my own liking. I want to create strong characters who aren’t afraid to be themselves, even when those around them think it’s weird. And if you, as readers, like my books and my characters I’m happy. If you don’t, I’m cool with that, too. Just, uh, buy a copy for your friend instead. hehe.

Bottom line? Being normal is waaaaay overrated. I mean, like, what does it get you at the end of the day? I’ve always felt you can be most happy doing what you like to do, no matter what others think about it. And I like being happy. So there!

Mari

I never claimed to be normal...

2006-03-06T12:40:00.000-08:00

So Monday starts our theme week of "Why be normal when you can be paranormal". I wanted to post my entry last night and be all organized but then the 'crud' infected our household and I was thrown into the role of bedside nurse. I'm not pointing any fingers but PC did send me an email stating she had been ill and it leaves me wondering exactly what kinds of viruses can be sent via email. Not that it could happen. I'm just sayin'. It's suspicious.

So, as I was contemplating my hilarious yet heart felt blog last night, taking temperatures and medicated everyone in my immediate vicinity, I realized that my 'normal' life had been interupted. Okay, its a stretch to compare a croupy cough and fever with vampires or dragons but I realized my books are about everyday life that gets interrupted and plans have to be changed.

In my teen vampire series, Braced2Bite (May 06), my heroine Colby has a plan. She is going to get Aidan, the hunky jock to ask her to Homecoming and there she will be crowned Queen. She has a college interview that she is sure will get her the scholarship to the college of her dreams. The gal is all about making plans. Then she is attacked by a vampire and things sort of spiral out of control. Except, she won't accept that. She decides her life plans will not be altered. Period. Unfortunately for her, everyone else doesn't see it that way. Hilarity ensues.

I've always loved the extra-ordinary. A brick was never a brick but part of an ancient castle brought down by knights astride fire breathing dragons (so common in the ancient times of Washington State. What? You don't remember that in your Pacific Northwest History books? tsk, tsk). I love creating my own world and then reigning in it like a princess over her kingdom. Are you sensing a theme here? Me=princess. World=mine. So I had to become a writer.

I like 'normal' books as well. Romance, mystery, chick lit, etc but I love to write paranormal. My world, my way. Hmmm, I am coming across a little ego-centric. I mean to say that I love to extend boundaries beyond the ordinary and create situations that challenge my heroine and hero to do extraordinary feats. And sure, I could do that within real life perimeters but hello? the drama queen in me just has to be satisfied. The more outragious, the better. After all, I never claimed to be normal. Just ask my mom.

-Serena, who would like to assure the public that she does know how to share and always gave her older sister the first choice of cookie at snack time. But don't take my sisters word, 'cause she always remembers it all wrong...

Introducing Mari

2006-03-02T12:49:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

I guess it's intro time! I'm Mari. Some of you might know me from my previous book "Sk8er Boy" which came out last year. Next up I have a vampire series - first installment is "Boys that Bite" out in April, which is soooo soon!! Future books in the series are "Stake That" and "Girls that Growl." hehe.

Anyway - 411 on me. I'm 32 as of...today! (Yes, happy bday to me!) and I live in Boston. When I was in high school I used to be a total goth and I still love all the music. Old skool stuff like The Cure, The Smiths, Depeche Mode, Bauhaus, Sisters of Mercy (I'm going to see them tomorrow in concert in Orlando - w00t) etc. And I like some of the new emo stuff that's come out recently, too. Interpol rocks, as does one of my new faves "She Wants Revenge." I just bought Daphne Loves Derby which is sort of Dashboard Confessional'y.

Uh, sorry, tangent. Music does that to me sometimes.

Sooo anyway - my love of vamps started back in my early goth days - my friend Gretchen and I used to rent all the old movies - like the original Bela Lugosi Dracula. We were total purists back then. We loved David Bowie, too, so The Hunger was high on our list. But when I got older, I decided humor and vamps make a great mix as well. Love Buffy. Love, love, love it. And in the book world, I love MaryJanice Davidson's Undead and Unwed series. (Which is why it's soo cool she's doing this blog with us!) Katie MacAlister/Maxwell is also great for funny vamp stories.

Okay - prob enough babbling for now. Welcome to the site. Glad you're here. We've got a ton of fun stuff in the works so please come back often. And in the meantime, friend me at MySpace at www.myspace.com/boysthatbite.

<3
Mari

Welcome to our Blog

2006-02-19T20:13:00.000-08:00

So it is March 1st and we are finally ready to go. You have stumbled upon our take-no-prisoners Blog featuring some of the hottest Young Adult Paranormal Authors today. On the handy dandy side bar you will see a list of talented people who will be coming to you daily with their wit, insights and charm. So you maybe asking yourself, "Why another blog? What makes you guys so special?" I am so glad you asked.

When Mari and I decided to put this little team together, we had an evil agenda in mind. You see, our blog weeks are themed. Each author will be revealing deeply-repressed experiences that made them into the twisted creatures of writing fiction we know today. In honor of my Super Secret Author Confessions found in the back of all my books, I thought it was only fair to delve into the psyche of my fellow writers. Since we all write with humor, you get to laugh through our pain and humiliation. How's that for a great reason to tune in daily?

Mar and I will be introducing the team over the next couple of days so bookmark us, tell your friends and get the popcorn ready.