Friday Fricassee

Hello, tribe!

Thanks to those of you who left feedback for our Tense Change Challenge this week.  Admittedly, response was pretty low.  It's a busy time, though -- lots of people on vacation and whatnot.  Still, I wish the participating authors had received more feedback.  If we do this again, I promise not to schedule it during prime vacation month!

Here's my question of the day:  WHY--and I seriously mean WHY--do you think our characters feel SO VERY REAL to us while we write?

I know it's universal among writers.  We all feel a strong connection to our characters, and they evoke real emotions in us (and hopefully for our readers).  But WHY?  Why is it SO VERY PRONOUNCED?

I am revising something right now that's been a part of my life for years, and has undergone some big-time changes.  But the characters have remained who they always have been, and I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.  It's almost a physical ache.

I'd love to hear your thoughts!  The comment box is open--come on in and grab a cup of coffee or a cold drink.  I know you've got a few things to say about this!

Happy Addendum to One of Our Success Stories!

I'm delighted to bring you this story from BOTH points of view -- author and agent!

I posted Alexandra's original success story in January.  Here's the happy update from Alexandra Ballard and Kent D. Wolf:

FROM ALEXANDRA:

I have some great news to share with you! As you know, back in December I had the good fortune to be a part of the Baker’s Dozen auction. Through that contest I “won” my amazing agent Kent Wolf, who spent the winter helping me revise my YA novel and prepare it for submission. We sent The Art of Losing out to publishers at the end of May, and three weeks later we sold it, at auction, in a two-book deal to Joy Peskin at FSG (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux), with a release date of winter, 2017. It has all been so exciting and I am so grateful to you, Authoress, for everything that you do for writers. It is so great to know that we have someone like you out there, helping to make stories like mine possible.

FROM KENT:

From the moment I read Alexandra's entry I knew that her novel was going to be something special. The voice, the writing--IT WAS THERE. I felt it in my agent DNA. It's rare for me to have that kind of instant reaction so come auction day I was chomping at the bit. However, just minutes before the start of bidding my computer froze! By the time I rebooted the manuscript had been won. Not only did I have to wait a week to see Alexandra's novel, but I had to suffer through the agent trash talking. OMG THE TRASH TALKING! My Twitter account almost withered and died.

Long story short, I finally got my grubby paws on the book, read it, fell in love, wooed Alexandra, and fended off the trash talkers. But here's the best part: not only did Alexandra trust my editorial suggestions, she turned around a MAJOR revision within weeks and knocked it out of the park her first try. She makes it look so easy. I'm pleased as punch that she's found a home with Joy Peskin at FSG. And thank you Authoress for bringing us together!!

Tense Change Challenge -- How It Works

Here we go!

Six excerpts, written in 2 different tenses, have posted.  Read both versions of each, and share your thoughts about which tense you feel works better for the story--and why.

For each excerpt, the author's original tense is first, followed by my rewritten version in the tense of the author's choice.  I have taken the liberty to correct punctuation and paragraph breaks in my edited versions, but have not changed the author's words in any substantial way, other than to change the verb tense.

Have fun!  This was certainly fun on my end (call me quirky, but I like playing with verbs).

ENTRANTS:  Please take the time to leave feedback on at least 2 of the other entries, as your way of giving back.

Go to it!

Tense Change Challenge #6

TITLE: Crazy in Love
GENRE: YA Contemporary

This is the first 250 words - POV alternates between Jamie and Molly.

THIRD PERSON PAST (original):

The lass was flat on her back and passed out on drugs. Jamie McDonald tried to sneak a peek at her, the sheet covering her had moved to hide her face. All he could see was her long locks of curly brown hair. The ambulance technicians rolled her stretcher down the women’s corridor on Ward Eight. I wonder if she’s my age.

Jamie’s heart pounded at the thought of someone new. Anyone new would be a distraction from the mundane days at this hospital. Please, be my age. Maybe I can finally make a friend here. He dashed over to Nurses’ Station pushing past Nigel and Ronnie on the way. Rose, the charge nurse, was behind the desk. Jamie drummed a random beat on the desk faster than a band playingWipeout. Rose glared at his hands and he stuffed them in his pockets. I better calm down or they’ll try to sedate me. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hullo,” Jamie said to Rose, trying to be casual, “Who’s the new patient?” At first, Rose didn’t say anything and Jamie could guess why. She’s always going on about patient confidentiality. And she knows I’ve tried this before.

But he was wrong. “I’m glad you stopped by, Jamie. Our new patient, Molly, is a wee bit younger than you. This is her first time in hospital. I was thinking of asking you to be her guide."

FIRST PERSON PAST:

The lass was flat on her back and passed out on drugs. I tried to sneak a peek at her; the sheet covering her had moved to hide her face. All I could see was her long locks of curly brown hair. The ambulance technicians rolled her stretcher down the women’s corridor on Ward Eight. I wondered if she was my age.

My heart pounded at the thought of someone new. Anyone new would be a distraction from the mundane days at this hospital. Please, be my age. Maybe I could finally make a friend here.

I dashed over to Nurses’ Station, pushing past Nigel and Ronnie on the way. Rose, the charge nurse, was behind the desk. I drummed a random beat on the desk faster than a band playing Wipeout. Rose glared at my hands, and I stuffed them into my pockets. I'd better calm down or they’ll try to sedate me.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hullo,” I said, trying to be casual, “Who’s the new patient?”

At first, Rose didn’t say anything, and I guessed why. She was always going on about patient confidentiality. And I’d tried this before.

But I was wrong.

“I’m glad you stopped by, Jamie," Rose said.  "Our new patient Molly is a wee bit younger than you. This is her first time in hospital. I was thinking of asking you to be her guide."

Tense Change Challenge #5

I originally wrote this ms in first person past tense, then switched to present tense. But I’m not sure, especially for middle grade, if present tense is a good idea. Or even first person.

TITLE: THE SECRET AT SEACHASE
GENRE: MG MYSTERY

Thirteen-year-old Ellie McCoy has just learned that some of the foreign snow cone vendors at the island’s adventure park are victims of a labor trafficking scheme. The boss has taken notice of Ellie’s meddling, and has made plans to export the undocumented workers before his crime is discovered.

FIRST PERSON PRESENT (original):

Sonia stumbles through the open door into the building. Natalia jumps up to catch Sonia before she falls.

In the doorway, Mr. Misaros’ smooth scalp glows yellow from the outside fixture. “Natalia. Good. Nobody at the apartment knew where I could find you.”

Natalia wraps an arm around Sonia and backs into me, pinning my head against the wall. My first impulse is to struggle. But then I relax. If I’m hidden, Dad won’t find out that I came here tonight.

Mr. Misaros says something to the girls. I don’t understand a word. Bulgarian, I guess. He ducks out and slams the door behind him. On the outside of the ice house, metal scrapes against metal.

“What was that about?” I whisper.

Sonia slumps against one of the snow cone carts.

“Mr. Lukas coming tonight. He take us away.” Natalia picks the pizza up off the floor and tosses it into the box.

“Why?” I ask.

“You ask too many questions.”

“No, I don’t. Where will he take you?”

“Anywhere he wants. Nobody will look for us.” Her face is more unsmiling than ever.

“I would.”

“How? You think you’ll get away?”

“I don’t work for Mr. Misaros.”

“Didn’t you hear him bolt the door? We’re locked in,” Natalia says.

I hold my hands out. “But my dad’s going to start looking for me. I have to go. I left my dog outside alone. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Ha,” Natalia says.

THIRD PERSON PAST:

Sonia stumbled through the open door into the building. Natalia jumped up to catch Sonia before she fell.

In the doorway, Mr. Misaros’s smooth scalp glowed yellow from the outside fixture. “Natalia. Good. Nobody at the apartment knew where I could find you.”

Natalia wrapped an arm around Sonia and backed into Ellie, pinning her head against the wall. Ellie's first impulse was to struggle. But then she relaxed. If she stayed hidden, Dad wouldn’t find out that she came here tonight.

Mr. Misaros said something to the girls. Ellie didn't understand a word. Bulgarian, she guessed. He ducked out and slammed the door behind him. On the outside of the ice house, metal scraped against metal.

“What was that about?” Ellie whispered.

Sonia slumped against one of the snow cone carts.

“Mr. Lukas coming tonight. He take us away.” Natalia picked the pizza up off the floor and tossed it into the box.

“Why?” I asked.

“You ask too many questions.”

“No, I don’t. Where will he take you?”

“Anywhere he wants. Nobody will look for us.” Her face was more unsmiling than ever.

“I would.”

“How? You think you’ll get away?”

“I don’t work for Mr. Misaros.”

“Didn’t you hear him bolt the door? We’re locked in,” Natalia said.

Ellie held her hands out. “But my dad’s going to start looking for me. I have to go. I left my dog outside alone. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Ha,” Natalia said.

Tense Change Challenge #4

TITLE: NEVERMORE
GENRE: YA magical realism

THIRD PERSON PRESENT (original):

Corbel soars on black wings above the crowded streets, so high up the people look like insects scurrying through the downpour, umbrellas obscuring their myopic views, like blinders on a horse. If only they’d look up and see the wonder of a winged boy. No one glances at him and his wings beat against the rain, water beads off his massive wings, his feather oil keeps them and him dry in even the most horrendous storms. Zipping in and around, catching air currents and floating, his face the only part of him wet, he relishes the tingle of the stinging rain on his cheeks, his skin. A thousand needles prick his body with pain and he relishes every drop, every sharp stab. He feels alive when he’s flying.

A faint cry echoes through his soul from below and it’s her voice. Faint. So faint. So lovely in its tones. In a different time and place he’d describe it as lilting, the voice of a fairy sending him into a dreamlike state. It reverberates through him. It calls him to spiral downward and down until his wings beat with furious abandon in the unrelenting storm above the street but unseen. A crack of booming thunder followed by the sharp sulfuric scent of a lightning bolt close by lights up the dark sky and in that moment he sees her illuminated below him.

FIRST PERSON PRESENT:

I soar on black wings above the crowded streets, so high up the people look like insects scurrying through the downpour, umbrellas obscuring their myopic views, like blinders on a horse. If only they’d look up and see the wonder of a winged boy. No one glances at me, and my massive wings beat against the rain, water beading off them.  My feather oil keeps them and me dry in even the most horrendous storms.

Zipping in and around, catching air currents and floating, my face the only part of me wet, I relish the tingle of the stinging rain on my cheeks, my skin. A thousand needles prick my body with pain, and I relish every drop, every sharp stab. I feel alive when I'm flying.

A faint cry echoes through my soul from below, and it’s her voice. Faint. So faint. So lovely in its tones. In a different time and place I’d describe it as lilting, the voice of a fairy sending me into a dreamlike state. It reverberates through me. It calls me to spiral downward and down until my wings beat with furious abandon in the unrelenting storm above the street, but unseen. A crack of booming thunder followed by the sharp sulfuric scent of a lightning bolt close by lights up the dark sky, and in that moment I see her illuminated below me.

Tense Change Challenge #3

TITLE: ISLAND SHADOWS
GENRE: YA Contemporary

With the aid of a local boy, sixteen-year-old Tess finally trespasses onto a private river island to explore an abandoned castle that has inspired her love of architecture since childhood. Unfortunately, the castle isn't how she imagined it.

FIRST PERSON PAST (original):

We mounted the castle steps, two at a time, careful to avoid crumbling patches of stone. A giant wooden door swollen with age stuck on its frame, but after a few shoulder jabs, Ryan pushed it ajar. We passed through an entry hall and arrived in the center of a vast great room. Digging through Ryan’s backpack for a flashlight, I panned the light. The room was empty except for a skeleton of a grand staircase dominating the center. A feeling like disappointment knocked around inside my chest. I ignored it. The bones of the castle were strong, even if nothing else was.

My gaze drifted upward where four levels of balconies towered above us. In the center of the ceiling, a few hundred feet up, shards of light slipped past a dusty stained glass dome. Pointing the glow from the flashlight upward, I shrieked when something warm flapped against my ear. My hands shot to my face and the flashlight clattered to the marble floor. “It’s a bat—just a bat,” he said, his hands brushing the tops of my shoulders. “You spooked it.”

I slumped down on a giant marble step, trying to slow my pulse. Something was off. I started to think about the stories Tommy, Ashlyn and Katie had shared around the bonfire, wondering if they were true. Then I told myself to stop; those stories were ridiculous. Ryan scooped up the batteries and the flashlight and sat down beside me, beginning to reassemble the pieces.

FIRST PERSON PRESENT:

We mount the castle steps two at a time, careful to avoid crumbling patches of stone. A giant wooden door, swollen with age, sticks on its frame, but after a few shoulder jabs, Ryan pushes it ajar. We pass through an entry hall and arrive in the center of a vast great room.

Digging through Ryan’s backpack for a flashlight, I pan the light. The room is empty except for a skeleton of a grand staircase dominating the center. A feeling like disappointment knocks around inside my chest. I ignore it. The bones of the castle are strong, even if nothing else is.

My gaze drifts upward, where four levels of balconies tower above us. In the center of the ceiling, a few hundred feet up, shards of light slip past a dusty, stained-glass dome. Pointing the glow from the flashlight upward, I shriek when something warm flaps against my ear. My hands shoot to my face and the flashlight clatters to the marble floor.

“It’s a bat—just a bat,” Ryan says, his hands brushing the tops of my shoulders. “You spooked it.”

I slump down on a giant marble step, trying to slow my pulse. Something is off. I start to think about the stories Tommy, Ashlyn, and Katie shared around the bonfire, wondering if they were true. Then I tell myself to stop; those stories are ridiculous.

Ryan scoops up the batteries and the flashlight and sits down beside me, beginning to reassemble the pieces.

Tense Change Challenge #2

TITLE: Prime Vector
GENRE: YA Sci-Fi

This is the second chapter, introducing the girl MC. MS is dual POV. I recently changed my MS from present tense, third person, to past, third. I wonder, if I should go a step further and change it to first person, past tense.

THIRD PERSON PAST (original):

City of Phoenicis, Mars
Year 2148

The Phoenicis skyline of glass, steel, and marble stone stood in the distance, scraping the crimson sky. Fifty stories up, the iron rails weaved a path throughout the city, going over and around the buildings. A few scattered, perfectly white and puffy clouds moved across, and out of her line of sight. Tomorrow was a scheduled rain day.

Catita sprinted toward the city center, wilted amaranth flowers and gravel crunched under her running boots. “Hey, watch it!” Catita swung at the small aircraft, buzzing around her like a honeybee, a curfew drone patrolling the city. Its shiny, white body had four pairs of red eyes, and dangly legs that made it look like an oversized, mechanical spider. When it finished the scan, it took off, missing the passing train car by inches. The stupid things are a menace.

She ran to Old Main Street, then took a left at the end of the block. When she reached her street, she stopped outside the small art gallery across from her building to catch her breath. Soft piano notes poured out onto the street from somewhere overhead. Sensing movement, the shop window displayed pre-recorded ads. Catita watched as she stretched her hamstring, then her arms.

The sequence ended with a still image of a woman, with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, bright red lips, and in a dark business suit. She looked elegant, sipping from a steaming espresso cup.

FIRST PERSON PAST:

City of Phoenicis, Mars
Year 2148

The Phoenicis skyline of glass, steel, and marble stone stood in the distance, scraping the crimson sky. Fifty stories up, the iron rails weaved a path throughout the city, going over and around the buildings. A few scattered, perfectly white and puffy clouds moved across and out of my line of sight. Tomorrow was a scheduled rain day.

I sprinted toward the city center, wilted amaranth flowers and gravel crunching under my running boots. “Hey, watch it!” I swung at the small aircraft buzzing around me like a honeybee, a curfew drone patrolling the city. Its shiny, white body had four pairs of red eyes and dangly legs that made it look like an oversized, mechanical spider. When it finished the scan, it took off, missing the passing train car by inches. The stupid things were a menace.

I ran to Old Main Street, then took a left at the end of the block. When I reached my street, I stopped outside the small art gallery across from my building to catch my breath. Soft piano notes poured out onto the street from somewhere overhead. Sensing movement, the shop window displayed pre-recorded ads. I watched as I stretched my hamstring, then my arms.

The sequence ended with a still image of a woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, bright red lips, and in a dark business suit. She looked elegant, sipping from a steaming espresso cup.

Tense Change Challenge #1

TITLE: IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE
GENRE: CONTEMPORARY

Jimmy is a drummer in a rock band and is performing on stage. In the middle of the song he feels the urge to sneeze.

THIRD PERSON PAST (original):

Now would be a terrible time to sneeze, Jimmy Rickliefs thought. He leaned back, turned his head toward his vocal mic, and started singing the harmony to "Midnight" with lead singer Aldon Smith. His brain worked on lyrics and drum beats, making sure his hands and feet hit the right drums at the right time in the right order and rhythm.

And then, he sneezed. Mid lyric. It echoed over the cheers of the crowd and the entire band turned as one and started laughing. He flipped them off, never missing a beat or a lyric. When the song ended, he scratched his nose, trying to get the attention of one of their roadies. Maddie ran over, squatting down behind his hi-hat.

"What'cha need, Jim?" she asked over his head set.

"Tissues," he said. She laughed, but sprinted off in search of a box. When she came back, box in hand, he smiled. "Thanks."

She nodded, then dashed off stage, as Aldon entertained the crowd. Jimmy wiped his nose, hoping he wasn't getting sick. Their tour was winding down and it would time to head to Europe soon. Being sick on tour sucked, and they'd all been sick plenty of times.

"So, Jimmy, you all done sneezing up there?" Aldon asked.

Jimmy laughed, hoping their tech had his mic turned up. "F*** you, Al!"

The crowd laughed and cheered. Aldon flipped the drummer off. "Don't call me Al, mother f*****."

"Yo Anthony. You know how to play 'You can Call Me Al'?" Jimmy asked.

----

FIRST PERSON PRESENT:

Now would be a terrible time to sneeze.

I lean back, turn my head toward my vocal mic, and start singing the harmony to "Midnight" with lead singer Aldon Smith. My brain works on lyrics and drum beats, making sure my hands and feet hit the right drums at the right time in the right order and rhythm.

And then, I sneeze. Mid-lyric. It echoes over the cheers of the crowd, and the entire band turns and starts laughing. I flip them off, never missing a beat or a lyric. When the song ends, I scratch my nose nose, trying to get the attention of one of our roadies. Maddie runs over, squatting down behind my hi-hat.

"What'cha need, Jim?" she asks over my head set.

"Tissues," I say.

She laughs, but sprints off in search of a box. When she comes back, box in hand, I smile.

"Thanks."

She nods, then dashes offstage as Aldon entertains the crowd. I wipe my nose, hoping I'm not getting sick. Our tour is winding down, and it'll be time to head to Europe soon. Being sick on tour sucks, and we've all been sick plenty of times.

"So, Jimmy, you all done sneezing up there?" Aldon asks.

I laugh, hoping our tech has his mic turned up. "F*** you, Al!"

The crowd laughs and cheers. Aldon flips me off. "Don't call me Al, mother f*****."

"Yo, Anthony. You know how to play 'You can Call Me Al'?" I ask.

Friday Fricassee

Happy Friday!

I've been having fun changing tenses for the TENSE CHANGE CHALLENGE entries.  It's funny to note that, even in a mere 250 words, I will find errors when I go back through to proofread my work.  Tense changing is tricky!  It's like our brain tells us what it expects to see instead of what it actually sees.

At any rate, those will post on Monday.  Be ready with your critique!

As for today--here's your writerly question that begs an answer:

How aware are you, while writing a story, of the personal beliefs and passions with which your writing is infused?

In other words, do you go into it knowing things like, "I believe global warming is killing the planet, so I'm going to write a story about a dying earth," or "I've been through 3 divorces and I don't believe in happily-ever-after, so I'm going to write a doomed love story"?  Or do you simply write, and then discover later which deep, passionate parts of your psyche have surfaced?

For me, it's been largely unconscious.  For example, the novel that captured my agent's heart has "loss of freedom/maintaining autonomy" as one of its main themes, but I didn't sit down and decide to write a story about that.  It was a natural outgrowth of who I am and what cooks inside my brain when I'm not necessarily actively thinking about it.  I trust it's the same for many of you, too.

So, share!  Are your themes conscious or unconscious?  And if they're unconscious, can you share a revelatory moment during which you declared, "Great Scott! My undying support for sending dogs to the International Space Station is all over this story of mine!"

Looking forward, as always, to hearing from you!

Tense Change Challenge

Here's something new!

My inspiration:  I'm currently changing the tense of a manuscript--for the third time.  (Not in rapid succession, mind you.)  This story started in third person past, moved to first person present, and is now well on its way to being first person third.

Verbs don't scare me, though.  It may be tedious, but it's not difficult.  The most infuriating part is missing things that you SWEAR you should've seen the first time.

Like this little gem, which I seriously just arbitrarily found:

Her cheeks flushed the way they do whenever Dad praised her.

(Ugh, right?)

The other consideration, though, is this:  Which tense tells my story best?  Which one lends itself to the voice, the mood, the feel of my story?

So here's the challenge:

I will take THE FIRST 10 ENTRIES and do the following:

I will take your excerpt and change it to the tense of your choice.  This will be particularly useful if you're considering changing tense, but aren't sure if you want to.

Do this:

*Tell me the TITLE and the GENRE of your novel.

*Write a brief lead-in to your scene, so we feel grounded.

*Choose a 250-word excerpt and send it AS IS.

*Tell me which tense you'd like me to change it to.

I will:

*Change the tense.

*Post BOTH VERSIONS in one post on the blog.

Then we can have open discussions and critique about which tense works better -- and why.

Sound good?

IMPORTANT:  OUR BOT IS BROKEN!  DO NOT ATTEMPT TO USE OUR ONLINE SUBMISSION FORM AT THIS TIME!

Please send your submission to me at facelesswords(at)gmail.com.  THIS IS NOT THE NORMAL ADDRESS FOR CONTESTS/CRITIQUES!  This is only because of the broken bot situation.

You may begin sending your entries at noon EDT today.  Entries that arrive with a time stamp prior to noon EDT will be deleted.  As soon as I've received 10 entries, I will update this blog post.

Capiche?  Please ask your questions below!

Friday Fricassee

Last Friday, I was emotionally abused by a stranger.

Please know that I don't throw around terms like "emotional abuse" lightly.  But it is what it is--it happened, and I survived.  But it was painful.

I'm not going to go into nitty-gritty details; there's no need for that.  And I'm not going to bash anyone's character, so you won't see any names here.  But remember the interview I was so excited about?  The one where the team was already interested in hiring me, and I only needed to meet the founder of the company for the final step in the process?

Yeah, that.  She turned out to be a very different person from the one she displays in videos and presentations online.  Something felt wrong when she didn't say "you're welcome" -- or even crack a smile -- when I thanked her for her program (self-help, healing-centric).  Something felt even more wrong when she asked me which of her books I had read.  And then, when I couldn't remember the titles, she admonished me.

I'm not making this up.

It went downhill from there.  She told me exactly what she thought was wrong with this blog (which had little to do with the reason we were meeting in the first place), hurled character accusations at me, and then scolded me for not "accepting her correction".  I'm not one to use "WTF", but this was definitely a WTF moment.

Like many abusers do, she couched all this in "I'm just being honest".  But this had nothing to do with "being honest".  In the space of five to seven minutes, she reached into my soul and tried to tear it out.  She didn't succeed, but she did leave me stunned and numb.

It made no sense.  My experiences with interviewing for this company had been nothing but positive.  It felt like a "click".  I was beyond excited to meet this woman, whom I admired greatly.  To have the scales torn from your eyes when a public figure isn't who they say they are is...well, devastating.

Yes, that's the word.  I was devastated.

I'm not devastated any longer, though.  Mr. A and I have done our research.  We've learned that my experience with this woman was by no means an isolated experience.  And we've also learned that at least two of this woman's books were highly plagiarized.

I also spoke with a woman whose friend, an author, apparently gave Ms. Founder a manuscript of hers to read--only to have Ms. Founder "borrow it" and ultimately publish it as her own work.  Yes, this is hearsay.  But these are the stories that surfaced after this thing blew up in my face.

All that to say--I am so thankful that I was rescued from working for a woman that, ultimately, I could never have worked for.  One of my roles would have been to be her "voice" in blog posts and other online publications.  There is no way in hell that I could have been this woman's voice.

And here is THE BEST PART OF ALL:  After this happened, and because of a huge outpouring of support I received from friends, I realized HOW VERY IMPORTANT MY WRITING IS.  Not that I didn't already know that.  But I had definitely lost sight of that.  And for the past week, I have poured my heart into its happy place--working on my stories.

And yes, it's been a great week.  I'm working on a light revision right now (well, light except for the fact that I'm changing the tense--again.  But I love Josh and Danielle.  Yes, I do...), and I just had a break-through with something that I haven't been able to figure out for MONTHS.  In fact, I was sort of despairing over it.

So there's the lemon-aide from this particular lemon.  And I'm feeling terrific!  I'm definitely in the right place.

Thank you for your undying support as I moved through the interview process.  I really expected to be able to announce to you today that I'd landed the job.  Instead, I'm announcing my renewed commitment to pursue my dreams as an author, which is really where the lion's share of my creative energy needs to go.  Same as yours does.

Thanks for being here!

As You Prepare For ON THE BLOCK

Those of you who have participated in--or happily watched the unfolding of--The Baker's Dozen Agent Auction over the past 5 years will remember that there was always a lot of hoopla over the loglines, including instructional posts and three separate rounds of logline critique here on the blog.

We're not doing any critique rounds this time.  On The Block is a more streamlined, less time-intensive contest, and I'm going to put the onus on you to get your logline crafted and edited before our September 10 submission date.

Here's a little help:

WRITING YOUR LOGLINE

CRAFTING YOUR LOGLINE

WORDS OF WISDOM FROM OUR LOGLINE GURU

MORE LOGLINE WISDOM FROM HOLLIY BODGER

AND A FINAL CHUNK OF LOGLINE WISDOM FROM HOLLY BODGER

Hopefully you will find the above links helpful.  Remember that a well-crafted logline is like a tiny, high-impact synopsis of your story.  It is NOT a blurb, a summary, or an actual synopsis.  For the context of this contest, think of your logline as a micro-query.  It's going to grab my attention so that I eagerly read the words that follow.

Please ask your ON THE BLOCK questions below.  I'm already getting excited to read your submissions!

Friday Fricassee

Funny how vacation throws you into a sort of alternate reality for a while--and then, suddenly, you're back.  Here I am, fricasseeing a Friday again, as though no time has passed between.

So I want to make sure you're aware of ON THE BLOCK, which I announced on Monday.  I think maybe some folks squeaked an extra day into their holiday weekend, so if you missed the news, HERE IT IS AGAIN.

The short story:  24 entries, all genres, 10-minute bidding windows, over a dozen agents.  ALL HAPPENING THIS NOVEMBER!  Submissions are in September.  Please click over to read the details.

Secondly, DON'T MISS THESE PICTURES OF AUTHORESS WITH AMAZING PEOPLE.  You know all of them.  (No, really.  You do.)

Please leave any and all questions about ON THE BLOCK either here or on the original post.  I want to make sure everyone's on the same page before we move forward.

That's all for now--happy writing and happy weekend!

Hugs From Jodi And a Day In NYC

This year's vacation was a little different for us--instead of spending a week at Our Favorite Beach and then hanging with my parents for a few days, we made my parents' place home base and did lots of Things from there.  As a result, we got to spend time with people we normally wouldn't, and got to see and do things we normally don't.

A people-oriented, series-of-day-trips vacation filled with laughter and adventure.  Practically perfect!

On our second day of traveling, we met Jodi Meadows at an incredibly nifty pizza place, where she signed my copy of Orphan Queen and subjected herself to hugs and smooshes and endless questions about her recent trip to the U.K.  And where she also gave me a fresh-from-the-oven ARC of The Mirror King, of which you should probably be at least a little jealous.  Though when I'm finished reading it, it's going to make its way into a fun giveaway here on the blog, so don't hate me too much!

After a few days at my parents' and a quick overnight trip to Our Favorite Beach, we got up early and headed for NYC.  It was smooth sailing (my parents only live an hour and a half from the city) until about two miles from the Lincoln Tunnel, where traffic came to a veritable standstill.  From that point, it pretty much took us ninety minutes to travel slightly more than three miles.  Which made me incredibly late for Josh's panel at NYU.

I was fortunate to at least get there in time for the Q/A part, and it was fun to watch Josh in his element, along with the other agents.  The students--aspiring agents all--were incredibly attentive and engaged, and asked all manner of truly excellent questions.  The upcoming generation of literary agents!

That's Josh next to Kate McKean (another of our former Secret Agents) during the panel.  And now you can see how incredibly bad I am at taking impromptu photos on my iPhone.

After the panel, Josh and I lunched on sushi and talked about books and his amazing children, and then walked to his office, where I was finally able to meet the inimitable Danielle Burby, who is sprouting all sorts of superhero bits as we speak.

(I mean, seriously?  This woman is an agent to look out for!  I'm thrilled that she's on my team.)

Being the brilliant young thing she is, Danielle came up with the idea of my holding the bag over my face.  I mean, look how the shoulders line up!  It's like we planned it or something.

(Some day, I am going to post a picture of me with this dynamic duo WITH MY FACE SHOWING.  Hold me to that.)

So, what was my take-away?  It's this: Josh Getzler doesn't just talk the talk. He walks the walk.

While I was with them in Josh's office, Danielle announced that she had just closed a deal.  Josh exclaimed heartily, trippety-tropped across the room, and threw his arms around Danielle.  It was raw, unedited delight.  What an honor it was to experience that moment of triumph!

And these--these--are the people championing my books.  How lucky am I?  They're not just punching a time clock.  They're breathing their passion for stories into an industry that can as easily swallow you whole as it can hand you your long-sought dreams.

Thanks, Team Getzler-Burby, for staying in my corner.

I had my own triumph when I left their office and walked the few blocks to Starbucks, where I planned to meet editor-of-sparkly Alison Weiss.  No, really--it was my first time to ever walk alone in NYC.  (Yes, I am THAT city virgin!)  Always before, I've had Mr. A at my side, guiding me along the streets he knows so well.  I think I may have grown up a wee bit.  Finally.

So I then spent a couple hours chatting (and chatting and chatting and chatting) with Alison, who is as sweet in person as she is online, and who oozes and drips love-of-books like nothing you've ever seen.  If you ever end up with Alison as your editor, you will be blessed indeed.

I mean, LOOK AT THAT SMILE! She could charm the whiskers off a cat.

Alison, thanks for connecting.  You're going places!  And I'm honored to know you while you're getting there.

And there you have it--my I-don't-get-there-nearly-enough trip to NYC, where a big chunk of my heart dwells.  Next time, I hope to visit during the New York City Ballet's performance season.  Because NEW YORK CITY BALLET.

Thanks to the enthusiasm and support of my agent and his Girl Friday, I'm ready to dive into the Next Thing, and to keep pressing forward.  That, and I got to finally get one of my dearly loved black-and-white cookies, which I horked down in the car on the way home.

Because all good things become even better when you add a cookie.

Announcement: ON THE BLOCK!

What better way to say "I'm back!" than to announce the details of our brand-new, super exciting contest!

ON THE BLOCK is an auction styled after our beloved and retired BAKER'S DOZEN.  Here are all the details:

1.  ON THE BLOCK will showcase 24 first pages.  All genres in all age levels (MG, YA, NA, adult) except erotica/erotic romance will be included.
2.  SUBMISSIONS will be held on Thursday, September 10 from 8:00 am to 10:00 pm EDT.  I will be reading the slush pile and will choose the 24 winners.
3.  There will be a $20 entry fee for this contest.  You may enter no more than 2 manuscripts.  A maximum of 250 entries will be accepted.
4.  The 24 winning entries will post on the blog on FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 6.
5.  Our PARTICIPATING AGENTS will then begin to read the entries and decide which ones they want to bid on.
6.  On TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, the bidding will begin! Each entry will be ON THE BLOCK for EXACTLY 10 MINUTES.  At the end of each 10-minute segment, bidding will close, and bidding on the next entry will commence.  THIS WILL BE FUN AND EASY, because everyone will only have to watch the bidding on ONE ITEM AT A TIME!
7.  Entries will go to the highest bidder (a full request).

Precise submission instructions will post closer to the submission date.  The basics are:  You will need A LOGLINE and YOUR FIRST 250 WORDS.

This is a NEW CONTEST, so EVERYONE may enter, regardless of which contests you've been in before!  You must be unagented, and your entry must be FINISHED and POLISHED.  (In other words, if you know you wouldn't let an agent read it right now, then please don't enter.)

We already have over a dozen agents who have said YES!  So the buzz has begun.

Questions?  Ask them below!  I'll do my best to work out all the kinks as quickly as possible.