Shauna Kelley's Blog

A FREEbie weekend

2012-02-04T04:12:00.000-08:00

As I've posted about an obnoxious number of times, my short story collection is available now for Kindle and in paperback on Amazon. When I set up the Kindle version, I enrolled in Amazon Prime, which granted me the option to give it away.

And so, that is just what I am doing. Today, and today only, Listening In and Other Stories is free for your Kindle. You can go to Amazon here and download it if you're interested!

And since I am giving it away, I thought I would resurrect a preview from a couple of weeks ago for you. Here is a sample of one of my shorts:

The Soul Mouth

I imagined that death would be different. I expected to feel sadness as I left, perhaps nostalgia. I expected to find myself reliving happy moments from my childhood in my last seconds, imagined a single tear sliding down my cheek as my lungs filled and my heart beat for the last time. Not a white light, necessarily, but perhaps my soul being torn from my body to rest for a moment just above me, look longingly one last time at the Earth before finding its way beyond.

All I had right was the soul, and even that I was arrogant enough to believe carried on because it was too saturated by the beauty of the world, by our own human goodness, to be blinked out so easily. In truth, there are two kinds of souls, those driven by inertia, or those imprisoned by their own existence. Either way, we all carry on for the same inane reason—we don’t know what else to do. We are so lucky to come to this place, where there is no need to do anything, and yet no boredom either.

But no, there was no painful tearing from my body. One second I was staring into Katrina’s beautiful grey eyes. The splatter of my blood on her cheek spoiled the otherwise perfectness of her face. The next second I was here.

The first thing I did was laugh, overwhelmed by the irony and futility of the world. While alive, we are silly creatures with silly rituals. Like funerals, everyone standing around, making arrangements while they whisper “she would have wanted it that way.” Even the ones here that were the most fastidious, the most over-bearing, the most impossible in life ceased to care about their own the second they came here.

Because here, despite the futility of our being here, despite our very ordinariness, it is brilliant white, and always warm and everyone smiles. I don’t know it if I am in heaven or hell. I can’t imagine why I would care.

Because I like contests!

2012-02-02T03:38:00.000-08:00

So I realized during a very, very amusing conversation with some co-workers recently that many people do not realize that I quote movies incessantly. Instead, they all seemed to think that so many of the quotes below are just "things you say."

It's funnier if you know what some of the quotes are, and so I thought I would share. And, to make it interesting, thought I would, well, make it interesting. Without the use of Google or any other search engines, how many of these do you know? Any one who comments with at least 3 right will get entered to win a $15 Amazon gift card, which I will announce on 2/9.

And yes, I weave these into conversations all the time. And yes, some movies are repeated. And some are TV shows. And there is actually a song lyric or two thrown in there. My most quotable quotes. So here we go:

I question your dedication to sparkle motion.
Game Over, Man. Game Over.
If an Irishman wishes to converse with an equal, he is forced to talk to God.
Frakkin toaster
Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.
We're all in pretty strung out shape, so stay frosty.
Typically, the subject being copied is terminated.
Smokes... and road beers.
Ha. Ha. Ha. It's my laughing hour.
You just have to believe that life is bigger than the sum of its parts, kiddo.
I want to lick your mind.
Can't rain all the time.
Punch it, chewy.
We want prenup. We want prenup. Yeah. It's something that you need to have.
You're killing me, Smalls.
It's a... it's a... a ROCKET SHIP.
You're the f*ing shepherd.
Rock. Paper. Scissors. Lizard. Spock.
I thought I would use the front door.
Yup. My Island. Yup.

And go.... :)

Underwhelmed by the New Underworld

2012-02-01T04:02:00.000-08:00

I love the Underworld film franchise SO much! The preview for the new installment Awakenings gave me goosebumps. Kate Beckinsale is back in her black leather ready to kick some more lycan butt? Where do I sign up?

I think the better question is did the writers sign on to write the whole movie? Because I think there is about 20 minutes missing.

The movie begins as vampires and lycans are falling victim to "The Purge," a period when humans have discovered their existence and now hunt them as they once hunted each other. Selene, in her typical bad-ass crouching position, recounts the events of the first movie (because, you know, the plots were too involved for you to catch up as we go along) and shares that she and Michael are fleeing this dark time... tonight!

Fleeing where? Don't know. How? Don't know. What kicked off the purge? Don't know. How much danger are they in? Don't know. Because the Purge, which is one of the more interesting components of the story to me, is covered in a 30 second news-reel montage so we can hurry up and get to Selene crouching.

After some seriously good fighting that earns the movie an A+ on fight choreography, Selene makes it to the rendezvous point with Michael (why weren't they together already? Don't know), but they are tragically taken captive.

Twelve years later, Selene emerges from a cryogenic sleep to find the world a very, very different place, with the once mighty vampires now living underground. (Why didn't the masses of the undead use their super-human strength and stealth powers to fight back? Don't know).

If it sounds interesting, it was. The third/fourth movie retains that dark but visceral tone of its predecessors, but unlike the previous movies it does not maintain a good balance between plot and action. The scale is most definitely tilted towards the ladder as Selene pretty much single handedly goes around breaking things all Matrix style.

Ultimately, since we see Michael for about 15 seconds in the film, I sort of left it feeling like the script was written, and then right before filming Scott Speedman backed out and they did a quick patch-job and tried to make the original script work instead of writing another one. As a result, when the credits rolled my boyfriend and I both looked at each other in astonishment and said "that was it?"

Worth watching? Probably... but I would rent it and maybe play some games on your iPhone while its on so you aren't dedicating too much of your life to it.

The Devil Inside Review

2012-01-30T04:02:00.000-08:00

The horror genre has embraced the "faux documentary" form of film-making, and I can see why. If done well, setting a film up as a documentary adds an air of credibility that may help today's cynical audiences extend a bit more disbelief. Cloverfield, The Blair Witch Project and Paranormal Activity are examples of films that, good or bad, have effectively used the documentary format.

When done poorly, this approach to a film is just a really lazy way to avoid character development, answering questions that should be answered, and building a coherent plot. Unfortunately, The Devil Inside is the epitome of a poor example of the documentary approach, and just all around really lazy story-telling.

Now, I typically don't go see ANY movie that looks like it might involve exorcism in the theater, simply because they scare the hell out of me and I prefer being at home with the lights on. I am not ashamed to say that I am 31 years old and a well-told demonic possession tale will force me to sleep with the lights on for at least a week.

So the mere fact that I found this movie so lame says something, and it is especially shocking since I relented and saw it in the theater at a friend's request.

The most unfortunate part of the film's failure is that the premise is really, really good.

Isabella Rossi has lived her whole life knowing that, when she was very young, her mother inexplicably murdered three clergy members in their home. Declared not guilty because of mental disease, her mother is sent to an institution to deal with her mental illness.When Isabella is older, her father divulges that the murders happened while her mother was undergoing an exorcism, and that since her sentencing, she has been moved... to Italy. (OK, I buy that it could happen, but could someone please explain why Italy wants our mentally ill mass murders? Because the move never does).

Isabella then hires a filmmaker to make a pilgramige to Rome and find out what really happened to her mother. She is sick of her whole life (you know, since her father told her a little while ago) being about possession, and she wants answers.

First stop: A course being taught by the Vatican on exorcism. In the 1-minute span of the class, I come up with three major issues I have:

If the Vatican refuses to allow exorcisms to be filmed (a major tenant of the movie) then why would they let the class on performing them be filmed?
If the class is for learning how to perform exorcisms, as described in the film, then why are the two priests Isabella teams up with there even in it, as both are already ordained exorcists?
And 3... SPOILER ALERT... Was there no better way for the writers here to introduce the kind of possession Isabella's mother suffers from than having it be the only part of the class she attends. Seriously, she is in a class for 30 seconds, the teacher references this term, and I thought "gee, I bet that is what her mother has" and I was right.

This is the root of my entire issue with the film-- the writer took an awesome concept and just couldn't be bothered to spend time developing it. Isabella has no character development. I sat through an hour and a half of a film where she was on-screen almost the whole time, and I cannot tell you a single thing about her, other than the fact that her mother is possessed.

I was not surprised once during this film. More times than I could count, a scene was set up and I thought "this is what is going to happen" and lo and behold, I was right. Even the vile verbal assaults of the multiple demons we meet were trite, and cliche, and more fodder for a high school locker room than the den of the devil.

All in all, I say skip it, unless you want to be really angry that someone had such a great idea for a movie, but didn't spend just a little bit more time developing it to be anything beyond mediocre and predictable.

Dreamy Man Thor!

2012-01-25T04:40:00.000-08:00

So I have too long abandoned one of my favorite topics-- dreamy men. I was reminded of this when I watch Thor with my roommate last weekend. Again.

OK, so in fairness, the number of times that I have watched this relatively new movie has as much to do with my general love of superhero movies as it does with my love of ogling Chis Hemsworth. Maybe even more. Maybe.

For those of you unfamiliar, Thor is actually one of my favorite comic-book-turned-movie franchises, as it is based and heavily steeped in Norse mythology. Which I also love.

The new movie version begins as a young Thor, portrayed by the amazingly dreamy Chris Hemsworth, about to ascend the throne of Asgaard when Oden, played by the always dreamy-in-a-refined-older-gentleman-way Sir Anthony Hopkins, determines that he is too vain and immature to rule. Subsequently, Thor is banished to Earth where he meets Jane, a.k.a. Natalie Portman. Of course, given how amazingly, unbelievably, incredibly beautiful Thor is, a romance ensues as conditions in Asgaard sans Thor get quite dicey.

You should see it-- it's on Netflix now. Even if you aren't into dreamy, tall, very muscular Australian men like Chris Hemsworth (who is, gulp, younger than me, which troubles me a bit), it is a super-hero movie worth watching. It's well acted, Kenneth Branagh actually directs without over-stylizing everything, and the story is really, really rich and dynamic.

And Thor looks like this. I'm just saying.

I need a little help on Stephen King

2012-01-23T04:54:00.000-08:00

So my boyfriend loves Stephen King. And I mean loooooooooovvvvvveeessss him. For those of you who have relegated Stephen King into a pulp horror fiction genre, I actually do think he is much, much more than that. I've read a bunch of his stuff, and I really like most of it. But the boy... he looooooooooovvvvveessssssss it all.

And so, over the past year plus that we've been together, I've been told a myriad of times that I need to read The Dark Tower series. In fact, he is one of about a dozen people who have told me that. But here is my problem:

The more people tell me I HAVE to read something, the most I resist (childish, I know, but it isn't just to be obstinate, it is based on past experience). I usually avoid the next great thing that everyone is buzzing about. Sometimes I'm wrong-- I was a late Harry Potter convert and now a big fan. Other times I am not-- I didn't care for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and do not get me started on the Alex Cross books.
I am just not sure I can dive into another series right now. Said boyfriend got me into A Song of Ice and Fire, which I thoroughly enjoy(ed), but five months later I am STILL plugging through book five (I did take a Hunger Games break, a psuedo-I-was-wrong instance referenced in number 1)
There are fans, there are really strong fans, and then there are rabid-in-your-face-you-aren't-a-real-person-until-you've-experience-this fans. The latter drive me crazy. These are the people who ruined Pearl Jam for me, the people who heckle me every single Friday for not wearing Ravens-purple to work even though I don't like football. I am a strong fan about a lot of things. I border on rabid from time to time. But the Dark Tower pushers act as though I have not progressed in a literary sense beyond "See Spot run" since I haven't read these books. It drives me bananas and makes me not want to read the books out of spite (yes, I recognize that this makes me sound 12).
I like Stephen King a lot, but I am just so skeptical that these books are really the best thing out there...

So I would like some feedback from any of you out there who aren't rabid and won't make fun of me or declare me to be uncultured and stupid for not reading these books... are they really THIS good?

Consequently, for those of you now worried that I might be in an emotionally abusive relationship, I am not. The boy is actually the mildest in his assertion. From him, I get "Honey, you've got to read these," and not the same "Oh my God! HOW HAVE YOU NEVER READ THIS? I thought you were some kind of writer," that I've gotten from others.

Let it snow!

2012-01-21T04:26:00.000-08:00

I have never outgrown the childish delight I feel at the prospect of snow. As an adult there are tons of reasons to hate it:

It's messy and cold
It makes driving hell and I HATE being trapped anywhere without the use of my car
Now that the ability to work from home exists, bad roads don't get me out of anything
The grocery stores go insane
My dog has to be forced outside to relieve himself
It exacerbates my existing lack of coordination, as highlighted by the time I fell down some icy stairs, sprained my back, got a concussion, bruised three ribs, and ended up in physical therapy for two months
My boyfriend lives an hour away in the sticks and it makes it hard to drive there...

...and on and on, but I can't help it. I love the snow, even more now that I live in the city.

I awoke this morning to a very reasonable inch or two of snow on the ground. The sky is still a dark grey, and so I am fairly sure we have more coming.

I feel giddy and peaceful. Everything in Baltimore looks clean and new (quite a feat for those of you who have ever been here-- is is beautiful, but it is rarely clean).

I actually tromped outside at 6:45 a.m. in pajama pants and high heels (the first shoes I could find) to take a picture of my pretty, peaceful city, which I will share with you all... just don't tell my roommate. She is the one that took me to the ER and dealt with my doped up nonsense for weeks after my last tumble in the snow.

Consequently, its not a very good picture... if I had crossed the street and walked into the park so I could cut out the road and cars, it might be better, but since I already looked like a lunatic wandering around in pajama pants and high heels, I stopped a few blocks from my house and just snapped and ran/waddled back before any of the neighbors I know saw me.

Wherever you are, wishing you a peaceful Saturday full of reading, writing, relaxing, or whatever makes you happy. If you're in Maryland, enjoy the snow!

Let's hear it for the testy and dejected!

2012-01-20T02:40:00.000-08:00

Or, OK, truth be told, its the REjected and not DEjected I am rooting for today.

See, you work hard, you write a book. You send it to publishers for months or years asking them to like it. You get so many demoralizing rejection letters, while your very-patient friends reassure you that even J.K. Rowling got rejected dozens of times.

Finally one amazing, wonderful publisher does like your book, and even publishes it! And the elation fills you with a fever pitch to keep writing, and keep going, and you write another book and then...

... start another round of rejection letters. I got my latest this yesterday, on a day I was already home sick with a cold.

And I am a "professional" writer. I KNOW form letters saying "thank you for sharing... not for us" are not a reflection of my talent or lackthereof. Furthermore, I work in marketing! I 100% know that there is a vast difference between "good" and "marketable" in the type of fiction I write.

But it still makes me sad.

So, I think we should all do something nice for the writers out there, just in case anyone is having a day like me and is feeling a little dejected.

What's that you say? A contest?

Yes! Of my normal ilk! Go to Amazon, find a book you like that was self-published, or written by a first time writer, or published by a small press, and leave a review about how much you liked it. You will make some author's day, for sure....

... and then come back here, leave a link to the book, and you're in the contest. One winner will get a $20 Amazon giftcard. I'll announce a winner by 1/31.

If you would like some independant or small press publications to consider, think about maybe:

Twisted Velvet Chains by Jessica Bell, amazing poetry by an up and coming star. Its available for Kindle for only .99, or paperback as well.
The War Master's Daughter by Elly Zupko, strong and engrossing historical fiction. On Kindle for only $2.99, or available on Paperback as well.
String Bridge by Jessica Bell, which also just rocked my world
of (of course) Max and Menna or Listening In, bother available on Kindle for $3.99 and $1.99 respectively. Max and Menna is also in paperback and hardcover, and Listening In will be available in paperback soon.

Come on, make someone's day... and maybe win a prize as well :)

On resembling a maudlin poet

2012-01-19T05:48:00.000-08:00

I don't believe in stereotypes about writers. We aren't alll chain smoke (I just quit, thank you very much), job hopping (stably employed), tattooed (I only have 3), moody (Ok, you got me there), morose, wanderers dressed in black, despite what many a movie and most of the beatnicks might tell you. If being a part of the writing blog community has taught me anything, its that today's writers are the most diverse, dedicated, and supportive group of people I can imagine.

But I am working on a project that has me resembling a beat poet more and more (you know, save the drugs).

Even before my mom died, she and I talked about me writing a story about caring for someone with cancer, but not in the traditional way. I never wanted to write- nor did she want to read- an uplifting, you-can-do-it cancer story. We never discussed a morose, woe-is-me tale either, but looked at the book as the not-so-simple truth about what it is like to watch someone you love that much slowly die.

And since her death a year and a half ago, I have attempted so many times to sit down and outline. Normally, I am good at beginnings-- I can begin a story all day. But this one, well, the words wouldn't come. And finally right before Christmas I decided to tell a story about cancer through the eyes of someone very much like me. We'll call it inspired fiction. Clearly, this story will be heavily influenced by my own experiences, but I have very much fictionalized it, partially because there were so many moments during my mother's illness that are mine and I don't want to share, and partially to respect the privacy of everyone else who was so heavily involved in her illness.

And here is where the stereotype comes in: writing this has had such a profound impact on my mood.

I have to write this book for reasons I cannot begin to explain to myself, and yet I feel like I just survived a war and immediately diving back into the conflict. I think about waiting, and then realize that the details of my experience that are so crucial to defining the experience of my narrator are softening. The visceral and raw emotion behind caring for a cancer patient are vital to this story. In fact, without them, there is no story.

Nonetheless, this is reliving everything, and I know the perceptible change in my mood is there. I'm back to talking about Mom more and more, as much as I did shortly after her death, because it is all at the forefront of my mind. I see people around me subtly react when I bring her illness up again and yet I cannot keep the words in. I had finally moved past daily sobbing, and yet here it is again because it is all being dredged back up.

And so, here is the warning that blogs to come for the next several months may border on the maudlin. My biggest hope is that I can keep away from the damned cigarettes that I got hooked on while living the ordeal in the first place.

Here goes nothing...

Some thoughts on the Hunger Games

2012-01-17T04:40:00.000-08:00

I am always a bit late to the party. I discovered Adele three months ago, just saw Iron Man for the first time, and didn't realize Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was a trilogy until the shocking similarity on covers smacked me over the head with the fact. Periodically, I discover something new that makes me wish I was more with it!

Several of you bloggers plus a bunch of friends kept nudging me towards The Hunger Games. So over the holidays, I read them. I actually devoured the books, reading the first in six hours.

For the record, if you haven't read The Hunger Games, do it. Do it now! It is an amazing read and you won't regret it. And then... well, you decide if you feel like moving on, because something odd happens in the second two.

One of the things I loved the most about the first book was the main character, Katniss Everdeen. Having read a lot of YA fiction, and living in the era of Bella Swan, I loved Katniss in Book #1, because, quite frankly, she kicks ass. Bold, kind, strong, and fierce, Katniss is an amazing character and a true role model for young girls and grown women everywhere. She takes care of her family, and manages to keep her dignity and humanity in the harshest of circumstances. And then... and then...

In book #2, Katniss is a bit less likeable. I actually 100% buy that she goes through some awful things in book #1, and may be struggling to put her psyche back together. But then, in book #3, Katniss turns into a stereotypical angsty teen. She is moody and rebelious and angry. Though she remains strong, the strength is accompanied by what can only be described as whiney.

I've got to say, thank goodness for Libba Bray and the Gemma Doyle series, because the young women of YA are taking too many hits in the most popular books of the day!

What other books do you think have (and maintain) a powerful and kind female voice? What am I missing?

Yup, I'm admitting I was wrong...

2012-01-15T13:04:00.000-08:00

So I said for months and months and even years that I was not a Kindle person. I like paper. I like the way it smells, I like jotting notes in margins and folding up pages and the soft weight of a paperback rising and falling on my chest when I fall asleep reading.

And then I got a Kindle.

I still LOVE everything amazing about paper, and how books look on my shelf, and smell and feel, etc. But I've discovered that I love the Kindle as well. I read faster on my Kindle. It makes it easier to read at night without getting up to turning on the light. It means I am never without a book.

So, I've just finished the Hunger Games triology, and am gearing up to read the Warmaster's Daughter by Elly Zupko. Any other good suggestions on what I just must get on my Kindle?

I need some help on Fantasy...

2012-01-06T04:47:00.000-08:00

OK, so I need some help and advice from any of you who may have read more fantasy than I have, because I am struggling. I am 300 pages into the fifth book of A Song of Ice and Fire, which have been (mostly) excellent thus far, but I am dragging because so much of this series (and the other fanatasy novels I have read) is about people trying to get somewhere and getting waylaid en route.

I talked to a friend of mine who is a HUGE fantasy nut and said exactly that-- "It's all people trying to get somewhere, but getting re-routed over and over by stuff" and he looked at me with a puzzled expression and said "Shauna, that's what fantasy IS..."

I do not in any way want to pass negative judgement on a whole genre, because I have enjoyed what little I read, but I am losing steam on the epic journey theme. Those of you who have read Max and Menna, or even most of the stories in Listening In, know that I am temporallly challenged. I cannot tell a story in chronological order, so this is a bit out of my comfort zone to read for so long.

So, you fantasy buffs out there, help me out. I love the writing style, the characters, the plots, etc., but can't jump into any more "journey" books. Have you read great fantasy that don't include the journey theme? Can you recommend some?

One More Preview...

2012-01-04T05:21:00.000-08:00

I am continuing to shamelessly try and drum up interest in Listening In, my short story collection for Kindle (link on the left if you're interested in reading it), and so, here is my last and final preview of one of the seven short stories included.

I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Silent Reel

The strange thing about the music that awoke her was its silence. Her ears heard only the ocean as her eyes opened and she stared up at the ceiling, encrusted with grime, but the music was loud and vibrant in her mind. She reached up and brushed the hair from her eyes, and stretched out slowly. Almost instantly her hand flew to her stomach as she realized the pain was harsher than before.

Sile sighed, sitting up and glancing about the room, which was just as dirty and familiar at the ceiling. She looked around now, hoping to find Molly, her rag doll, among the debris on the floor, but then remembered that the doll was perched on her bed at home. Even the thought of the small, twisted doll brought a smile to her face. Molly had been her protector when she was little and had spent so many nights here, in her grandmother’s house.

She moved slightly, with the intent to get out of bed, but noticed that her thighs felt soggy and sticky. She snaked her hand down below the sheets, dreading the possible realization that it was just more blood. Instead, she felt only her skin, prickly from a few days growth of hair. She shuddered and spoke to the empty room. “Great, and now I’m crazy to boot. Grandma would have loved that.”

Her muscles ached, the bone-biting kind of ache that warned against movement and yet punished lethargy with stiffness. She ignored her muscles, pressed her hand to her lower stomach where the pain was just as real and impossible to ignore. She walked to the window and opened it, listening as the sound of the ocean rushed in and battled the imaginary music for control of her senses.

A small spider crawled from beneath the bed and flirted with her big toe. Sile glanced down, noticed the filth she stood in. The floor was brown, covered in the thick coat of loose chunks of drywall, rogue scraps of cloth from the bed and blankets, dirt and sand.

The whole room knew a similar state of disarray. She turned from the window and felt, for the first time in the week she had been sleeping in this room, her stomach turn. Her skin crawled as though a hundred spiders had brought her to this realization, and she suddenly thought that she could not get out of the house quickly enough.

Her feet hit the bottom of the stairs, and then kept heading for the door. She grabbed her purse and keys from where they had been sitting for the last week, and walked outside onto the porch.

She opened the trunk of her car, an old blue Chevy, and threw her suitcase in. As she started the beast it sputtered and coughed a week’s worth of phlegm from its exhaust. She sat, the wheel staring at her impotently. Sand had collected on the windshield. She got out, washed it off, and got back into the car.

She leaned into the door, and stopped short. On the seat where she had been sitting moments before were three, round, fat drops of blood, slowly soaking into the old upholstery. She ran her hands across them, felt that they were still warm, shuddered, and got in anyway. Spotting was usual, or so they told her.

Writing as Work?

2012-01-02T10:16:00.000-08:00

So every year, I have the same New Year's Resolution: Get back into the jeans size I wore in college. Thanks to random illness in 2011, I am starting 2012 a bit closer to that goal (about 1.5 sizes away), but since I never quite make it, I thought this year I would add a new resolution, one brought on my the experiences of the last week:

Starting April 1, I am going to start treating writing like work. (April 1 because I am then done with grad school and will actually have time).

Here is why...

Writing has always been my hobby- something I did to calm down, cool off, vacate the writing itch from my brain, etc. But I just had 12 days off work. I did not meet my 25,000 word goal for writing, but I did succeed in being disciplined. Excepting weekends, I got up, showered, and set to work. I wrote (or edited) just about every morning for anywhere from 2 to 6 hours. Then I worked on blogging, self-publishing Listening In, my short story collection on Kindle, promoting Max and Menna, pulling together records of last year's activities for the tax man, etc.

In short, last week, writing was my job.

And it is the best damned job I have ever had (and I say that despite mostly loving my actual job now). And I want it to maybe one day be my only job. And that takes more discipline than I typically have for writing.

So once I am a Master, I will pick up an official part time job-- my writing. In 2012, I hope it will finally and officially transcend hobby.

Another quick short story preview

2011-12-30T06:36:00.000-08:00

So Listening In and Other Stories did fairly well during day #2 on Amazon. I'm very new to self-publishing, and likewise new to e-reader formats (got my Kindle Fire for Christmas), and so I am delighted to be learning while sharing my work with the world.

In that vein, another preview of a story from the collection:

Collecting Faces

If want to know, I’ll tell you what I’ve learned. I don’t have any credentials, but if you’re looking to learn about people, I know plenty.

Man has it all wrong. Men spend time trying to answer the hard questions- the meaning of life, world peace, can we save the planet? To me that stuff is meaningless next to ordinary questions. A job application, no matter how menial the job is painful to me.

Name- That’s easy. I go by Sara. Not my real name, but that doesn’t matter.

Date of Birth- I don’t have one. Actually, I’m sure I do, I just don’t know it.

Occupation- there it gets tricky.

What do I do? I collect faces. I might even have yours somewhere. I bet you didn’t even know someone had taken it, did you?

Do you have some questions of your own now, like ‘how does someone collect faces?’ That is the only question I have an easy answer to.

Listening In Preview

2011-12-29T05:04:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, my short story collection Listening In and Other Stories published for Kindle. These are stories I have been writing, editing, and tweaking for the better part of 10 years, and I am happy to call them done and put them out there for the world.

Thus, I thought over the next couple of days I would share some excerpts with you in case you should be interested in reading more! This first excerpt is from a story called "The Soul Mouth." The entire collection can be viewed on Amazon here, along with Max and Menna, my novel which is currently on SALE for Kindle as well :)

The Soul Mouth

I imagined that death would be different. I expected to feel sadness as I left, perhaps nostalgia. I expected to find myself reliving happy moments from my childhood in my last seconds, imagined a single tear sliding down my cheek as my lungs filled and my heart beat for the last time. Not a white light, necessarily, but perhaps my soul being torn from my body to rest for a moment just above me, look longingly one last time at the Earth before finding its way beyond.

All I had right was the soul, and even that I was arrogant enough to believe carried on because it was too saturated by the beauty of the world, by our own human goodness, to be blinked out so easily. In truth, there are two kinds of souls, those driven by inertia, or those imprisoned by their own existence. Either way, we all carry on for the same inane reason—we don’t know what else to do. We are so lucky to come to this place, where there is no need to do anything, and yet no boredom either.

But no, there was no painful tearing from my body. One second I was staring into Katrina’s beautiful grey eyes. The splatter of my blood on her cheek spoils the otherwise perfectness of her face. The next second I was here.

The first thing I did was laugh, overwhelmed by the irony and futility of the world. While alive, we are silly creatures with silly rituals. Like funerals, everyone standing around, making arrangements while they whisper “she would have wanted it that way.” Even the ones here that were the most fastidious, the most over-bearing, the most impossible in life ceased to care about their own the second they came here.

Because here, despite the futility of our being here, despite our very ordinariness, it is brilliant white, and always warm and everyone smiles. I don’t know it if I am in heaven or hell. I can’t imagine why I would care.

My forray into self publishing...

2011-12-28T09:33:00.000-08:00

I have to say, I am looking forward to the end of this year. 2011 was much better than 2010, but half of it was not kind.

I developed a wonky, rare stomach condition this year. My symptoms started in June, and it took until December 3 for a doctor to listen to me, diagnose, and resolve it. Two surgeries, countless tests, and lots of people telling me I was making it up stood in my way, but I am finally feeling better.

And I translated feeling better into some forward momentum on my writing!

During this weird illness, I've been toiling away at revisiting, revising, and rewriting a collection of short stories I wrote in college. Today, I am happy to say, they are available on Amazon for Kindle. Please feel free to surf over here and check out Listening In and Other Stories, seven stories about the damaged, the strong, the deranged, and the decent.

Also, since last I wrote, I turned 31. Man... 31. When I was 21, 31 sounded so ancient. I am staving of depression at being 31 and single and all that by reminding myself that I am 31, have two complete works of fiction available for sale, am shopping for a publisher for a third, and am about to finish my master's. In light of that, I am feeling pretty content!

Happy holidays all!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

2011-12-09T04:02:00.000-08:00

I am a Christmas junkie. I love it! I love giving gifts, baking cookies, hacking down a tree and moving it in my house. I am the girl of perpetual smiles at this time of year. More and more, however, I am looking around and realizing that my holiday glee simply isn't shared by all.

I've been told I am a good gift picker-outer, so I thought I would share over the next couple of blogs some of my recommendations for any story lovers on your list, should you be stumped. I've put together a store on Amazon that contains some of my favorite gifts here.

Your YA Book Lover:

Got a teen on your list you are just not sure what to buy for? If that teen loves to read, then I suggest one of three Lucky Press titles:

Guardian Spirit by Sarah Martin Byrd combines some beautiful myths with some harsh realities in this story of a woman and her children fleeing from an abusive man. According to reviews on Amazon:
"Within the story, Byrd masterfully entwines Native American magic with the steely reserve of a woman protecting her children, and creates a narrative that will have readers cheering, and hurriedly turning pages. I found this to be an engrossing, exciting read, and would highly recommend it to others."

My Beginning by Melissa Kline is the book for any budding sci-fi loving girls on your list. We're under-represented, us female nerds, and so I recommend nurturing it for the girl on your list. Reviews on Amazon:
"This book draws you in immediatley. The adventure and curiousity keeps you turning the pages. The anticipation of the ending made it difficult to put it down but the thought of it ending so soon made me want to slow down. I do hope for a sequel. Great read!"

And, of course, I have to self-promote a litte... it is my blog :)

Max and Menna by Shauna Kelley is my debut novel, about a brother and a sister struggling together against poverty, alcoholism, and neglect. Here's what Amazon readers say:
"Max and Menna went above and beyond my expectations. I just could not put the book down, reading into the late hours of the night, just to see what would happen next! It's a great story full of romance, courage, laughter, and heartbreak. I highly recommend this book!"
AND if you're in Maryland, I have copies I can sign for you!

Of course, I have to throw in Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card because I think EVERYONE should read that book...

And more gift giving ideas to come!

String Bridge Review

2011-11-17T04:55:00.000-08:00

I talk... a lot. I have lots of opinions, which I share willingly, as everyone knows. So, interestingly enough one of the greatest compliments I can offer something is being rendered speechless. Jessica Bell's String Bridge comes fairly close to robbing me of coherent words. In fact, I have started, deleted, and restarted this review more times than I want to admit because I just can't find the words to do this book justice!

String Bridge is the story of Melody, a musician turned mother who finds herself growing more and more discontent with her little life. An Australian-born woman living in Athens, everything about Melody's life has ceased to inspire her. Her husband's anger fills their tiny apartment, her job is thankless, and she has a hard time hiding her growing misery from Tessa, the daughter that is bright spot in her dead-end life. As the dust grows thicker on her guitar case, Melody feels more and more trapped by a situation that seems increasingly hopeless.

This is a novel about finding, and re-finding who you are, and Bell has captured the struggle impeccibly. We all struggle with dreams deferred from time to time, and this novel captures too well the feeling of despair that comes from watching potential ebb. A musician herself, Bell's prose is lyrical and rythmic in a way that is simultanesouly soothing and startling. From staccato musings on her mood, through long and wailing sentences built on fury, every word of the book is deliberate, and effective.

String Bridge is another novel that has made me feel honored to work with Lucky Press. In moments, the book capture's the tone and emotion I have grown to love from authors such as Margaret Atwood, David Guterson, and Jane Smiley. Bell's first attempt, I am confident that this is merely a preview of brilliant things to come.

This one is highly recommended! I would head over to Amazon and buy it now! Add Max and Menna or Bell's acclaimed collection of poetry Twisted Velvet Chains and have a great Christmas gift ready for any strong women you know who love to read!

Horrors for Halloween-- Part Two

2011-10-14T05:00:00.000-07:00

Continuing my love of the scary story, I turn my attention now to books... literature in fact! Henry James' The Turn of the Screw.

This is a ghost story...or a story about a crazy lady... or a ghost story... or.. umm... you decide? A bit of indecisiveness on my part doesn't change the fact that this book is legitimately creepy. It's also really short if you have a free evening and just want to be thoroughly creeped out.

So, here's how it goes. Governess #1 mysteriously dies (actually, it may not be mysterious, I don't actually remember, but regardlss), so Governess #2, our narrator, is persuaded to take a job governing two small childrens in a remote country house. Almost instantly, she starts to see the supposed spectre of a tall man following her about. More ghosts pop up as the Governess' hysteria grows.

If you haven't yet had the chance, it is well worth a few hours of your life. I just strongly suggest that you not acquaint yourself with story by way of a truly awful adaptation staring Valerie Bertinelli that is floating around out there.

If you're interested, check it out on Amazon.

Horrors for Halloween- Part One

2011-10-12T04:41:00.000-07:00

So All Hallows Eve is upon us, and this truly is my favorite times of year. Truly, it isn't the costumes and candy that I hold in such esteem, and though I enjoy a good ole fashioned debate on the constitutionality of celebrating it in public schools as much as the next guy, but that doesn't do it for me either. Halloween is made awesome to me because it means a month of scary movies readily accessible on cable and on demand.

I LOVE horror stories, be it in film or in book form. I am not big on gory slasher movies, but otherwise, anything goes. And I take explicit joy in the "diamond in the rough" movie you often find amidst a plethora of inane B movies (usually have to watch 10 to find 1).

So the theme for this month's blogs is my favorite scary stories.

Part 1- Skinwalkers

This is one of my favorite diamond in the rough stories. I really like Elias Koteas (he played Casey Jones, which equals undying love in my book), and he was the only actor of name in it when I stumbled across it on the shelves of Blockbuster (yep, it was that long ago). I'm not normally much on the werewolf movie, but this one promised some good ole Native American legends thrown in, so I chanced my $2.99...

...and bought the film a week later.

You know how Twilight does the whole "evil" vampires who drink human blood vs "good" vampires that don't? Skinwalkers does that, but much, much better.

Underworld lovers will delight in Rhona Mitra as Rachel, who's world is turned upside down when she finds out that her late husband/father of her sick child was actually a werewolf. And her kid is at the center of a prophecy about someone who can end the curse of the were. So the good werewolves want him safe so they can become human again, and the bad werewolves want him dead so they can continue to enjoy their bloodlust.

Some good twists and turns, an actual emphasis on plot development, and a dearth of unnecessary gore make this one of my top picks for Halloween! To Netflix you go... or, if you prefer, it is in my A-store for download from Amazon here.

A Writer with Stage Fright

2011-10-11T04:59:00.000-07:00

Do you have that thing that you think you're terrible at, but other people INSIST you aren't? Like singing... lots of people with amazing voices think they can't sing.

Mine is public speaking (well, and writing, but that is another story). I'm told I come across very naturally in front of a group, but truth be told, it terrifies me. My hands shake, I stutter more than usual, I get hot flashes and always always always have at least one moment where I wonder if my clothes actually match. Its an unfortunate fear to have in my line of work, as I am required often to be in front of a group.

This Saturday is one such occasion-- I've given a handful of talks and interviews around Max and Menna since it published last fall. Most have been fairly informal, which has been a blessing, but Saturday is not only my first formal event as an author, but also my first reading.

Gulp.

I practiced in the kitchen last night before my roommate got home. It went something like this...

... Hi, I'm Shauna Kelley, author of Max and Menna

I think to myself that I need to move my hands more... no one wants to watch someone stand frozen...

...I am very honored to be with you today to talk about my writing...

...Does that sound arrogant? I mean I am honored, but these are high school kids. Are they going to care? Do I have anything to wear that won't make me look dorky??

I've spoken a few times since my book published almost a year ago, and I always like to start with one of my favorite quotes...

...Now you're moving your hands too much....

"Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans."

...Great, Shauna, a Beatles quote. These are high school kids-- way to look like an old lady right off the bat.

This inward monologue continued for about forty five minutes until my stomach was in knots and my roommate came home so save me from my misery. The sad thing is that I AM really excited and incredibly honored to be doing this event. I am reading at Barnes & Noble as part of Bel Air High School's Diversity Festival. Both in terms of the subject matter, and because I think that encouraging kids to read voraciously and write is critical.

But I am also terrified of looking like a dork!

Perhaps that is the message I shall relay-- you may well grow into confident, able adults, but know that there will always be times in your life when you are terrified of looking dorky.

Stay tuned for tales of whether or not I fall on my face.

Reflections on the Baltimore Book Festival

2011-10-10T05:55:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I had the privelage of participating in the Author's Tent at the Baltimore Book Festival. I was extremely excited to be part of an event that included two of my favorite authors- Libba Bray and Sherman Alexie-- and to have the chance to sell some books on my home turf.

Reality, however, rarely lives up to what you envision. And my vision of selling some books and feeling all literary was swept away by rain. Lots and lots and lots of rain. I sat amidst some very interesting self-published authors, and we all worked together to move tables and save our books from frequently sprouting leaks.

I didn't sell a single book. In fact, I didn't even come close to selling a single book.

But the day was not a total bust! Late in the afternoon, when I was contemplating packing up and calling it a day, a confused woman wandered up to my table and asked if I knew where the authors were supposed to go. I looked up, resigning myself to the fact that I was to be nothing but a direction giver at this festival, and found myself talking to Libba Bray.

What a totally awesome lady! I threw on my (already drenched) sweatshirt and walked her to where she needed to go. As we got pelted with rain, I chattered very nervously, a little intimidated by conversing with an author I so adore, but got nothing but kindness back from Ms. Bray. As we arrived at her destination, she thanked me for walking her, and asked me the title of my book and the publisher.

I won't soon forget the way she said "Max and Menna. Lucky Press. I am going to get it!"

I only hope she did, but regardless, getting to associate such a sweet, approachable, and interested person with the name on so many of the books on my YA shelf made sitting in the rain oh so tolerable!

The Color of Night Review

2011-09-21T03:41:00.000-07:00

Madison Smartt Bell was one of my professors in college. He served as mentor, literary hero, voice of brutal honesty to me while I learned to be a better writer, and is still someone, to this day, that I find both fascinating and intimidating. Interestingly, these attributes translated amazingly well onto the pages of his newest novel The Color of Night.

The book opens as Mae, our narrator, leaves her job at a casino outside Las Vegas and heads into the desert to her trailer-park home. Once there she witnesses the atrocities of September 11 unfold on her television, riveted as we all were that day but somehow lacking the horror most of us felt, and sees a familiar face in the images of rubble and chaos. Seeing Laurel, a long-lost friend, prompt Mae's rememberences of their time together with the People and their egnimatic leader D, a very thinly veiled cover for Charles Manson, as well as a growing obsession with watching, and rewatching the destruction of the towers.

The years separating two iconic and tragic moments in American history-- the Manson murders and the September 11 attacks-- seemingly disappear in this visceral, brutal, and somehow beautiful novel. Mae's tale is violent, tragic, and disturbing, but Mae is ever in control and never the victim in the eyes of the reader. I devoured her story hungrily and yearned for more.

Bell's prose is typically intense and lyrical, periodically interrupted by moments of abrupt simplicity that will shake you. Other reviewers refer to Bells' penchant for "erotic nihilism" and they are, in fact, spot on. The book refuses to deny the connections between suffering and pleasure, between violence and arousal, and in its honesty creates an uncomfortable but fascinating experience.

One of the things that amazes me most about this book is that, though it is actually a short novel at 224 pages, but Bell has created the feeling of an epic nonetheless. Perhaps I call it epic because the feeling I had as I reads its final words, a haunted, maudlin, icky and yet inspired feeling, has yet to fully leave me.

I could go on and on and gush over this book for many more paragraphs, and would still not do it justice. Bell has, again, earned his place among names like Toni Morrison, John Irving, Margatet Atwood, and Don Dellilo as a legend in today's fiction world. I am honored to have worked with him, and honor that reading this only further soldified.

Ultimately, the best praise I can offer is a promise that this novel will be discussed in literary circles for decades to come, and you need to read it! You won't be sorry.

The final in summer movie love...

2011-09-19T03:53:00.000-07:00

James Franco drives me nuts. I found him a bit awkward before this year's Oscars, and the train wr

eck that was his co-hosting (poor Anne Hathaway) has done nothing to further endeer me to the man. I am sure he is very nice, I see where he has talent, I can barely tolerate watching him.

This is why I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed Rise of the Planet of the Apes. As you may have picked up already, I love all things sci-fi, and am a sucker for the continuation of a goofy franchise. This, plus my boyfriend wanting to see it, pulled me into a theater mere moments after the credits rolled on Conan (see my effusive praise on that and my love for Jason Momoa here).

Rise is the prequal to the original Planet of the Apes franchise (please get that Mark Whalberg attrocity out of your heads). Franco plays a scientist studing new Alzheimer's medications who, literally, takes his work home with him. He adopts an adorable chimp as part of the family, without real thought of the consequences.

The film brought me John Lithgow, who will remain one of my favorites forever. And the movie tackles issues-- pretty standard ones like the ethics of animal testing and how far is too far to go when you are researching life-saving drugs-- point being, it is more than just a "monkeys attack!" movie.

And it sets up the franchise well! I wouldn't run to the theater, but this one is definitely worth a rental, even if I did spend the entire film wishing Franco would open his damn eyes all the way and stop staring around through droppy lids.

Exciting happenings!

2011-09-17T05:52:00.000-07:00

The fall is shaping up to be very exciting for me, and my writing career! I have more movie reviews, some book reviews, and some travel notes coming, but I wanted to take a break and talk about some upcoming events, about which I am very excited.

This coming Friday, I will be in the author's tent at the Baltimore Book Festival fromm 12 p.m. to 8 p.m. with copies of Max and Menna for sale, and time to talk. The line up for the festival is unbelievable! Sherman Alexie, one of my heroes will be there Sunday (I have to go to Indiana for work, unfortunately), and some other nationally-known names like Laura Lippman and Common are also attending. It runs Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, 12-8, so stop by! More information here: http://www.baltimorebookfestival.com/

Next month, I am thrilled to have my first Barnes & Noble signing! I am speaking at a Diversity Festival they host with Bel Air High School in Bel Air, MD. The organizer read Max and Menna and felt like it would be a good fit, which is such an honor. The event is October 15, and I speak at 2 p.m.

Still, almost a year after Max and Menna launched, I cannot get over the awe and honor of having my work out there for people to read! And I am thrilled beyond belief at all the good feedback... take a peak at these Amazon reviews and see why I am humbled... Amazon Reviews

And there is more coming... I am in the midst of the long, arduous process of finding a publisher for my second book, and hard at work on book #3. Stay tuned for details.

Summer Movie Review #2-- a.k.a. Why I Love Conan

2011-09-09T04:00:00.000-07:00

I want to tell you that I went and saw the new Conan the Barbarian movie because I loved the original as a kid-- which I did. But I can't lie. Despite my childhood afinity to Arnold's big break, I went to the theater opening night to check out the remake of Conan for one reason and one reason alone-- Jason Momoa, a bona fide dreamy man.

Not familiar? Did you watch HBO's Game of Thrones and go weak in the knees over the broody, sweet Kahl Drogo? If not, suffice it to say that this 6'4", 31-year-old Hawaiin man is very worth shelling out the $11 to see a movie.

Other than Jason Momoa, I had zero expectations for Conan, and I must say, unlike my disappointment with Cowboys and Aliens, I was pleasantly suprised. There is a coheisve plot, good pacing, and actual character building.Oscar worthy? Certainly not, but it is an excellent use of 2 hours of your time.

The plot rings similar to the original-- Conan hails from a fierce tribe of warriors, a tribe that is wiped out by an evil king when Conan is a child. He is left alive to grow into an incredibly attractive man (are you getting my love for Jason Momoa?) who is bent on revenge.

Despite sticking reasonably to the original plot, the movie did take great advantage of new strides in special effects. Rose McGowan does a suprisingly good job playing the creepy witch-daughter of the evil king, with such tricks up her sleeve as conjuring the occasional dust zombie.

If you're a man, lots of good fight scenes, as well as a strong enough plot to tie them all together with keep you entertained. If you're a woman, Jason Momoa. 'Nuf said.

Summer movies! Cowboys and Aliens review

2011-09-08T04:00:00.000-07:00

I had the unexpected opportunity to do a lot of one of my very favorite things this summer-- I saw a ton of new movies. I LOVE the summer blockbuster season, and though I didn't see everything I wanted to this summer, I did get an opportunity to see a lot. So, for those of you who missed it and want my humble take on what to add to your Netflix queue, for the next couple of days, I will share my opinion on the summer's best.

Cowboys and Aliens
SKIP IT! I was so looking forward to this movie. I love Harrison Ford, and all things sci-fi. Jon Favreau is an established director, and, quite frankly, I was just sure that if you threw down the gauntlet and were cocky enough to call a movie something as corny as Cowboys and Aliens that you did it because you knew the film was damn good.

Not so. This one rivals Bablyon AD in terms of the number of times I thought "but why..." and for those of you who have seen Bably AD, you know how bad that is.

There is absolutely no characterization at all, which is particularly noticeable and lamentable in Harrison Ford's character. He is not an Oscar winner, but come on, he does have more ability than uttering every cowboy cliche known to man while wearing a permanent scowl.

And if cliched dialogue isn't enough for you, try this out-- Harrison Ford plays a rich cattle rancher. His spoiled son shoots up this dusty frontier town and no one stops him because they fear Daddy's wrath. There is nothing original about the dynamic between the two characters. Add Daniel Craig as Jake Longerman, a bad boy with a mysertious past that he just can't remember. But oh, of course, he secretly harbors a soft spot for beautitful women, animals, and small children. The mysterious bad boy with a heart of gold-- where have I seen that before? Oh... too many places to name. Ten Things I Hate About You approached this more originally, for sure.

And *spoiler alert* in case the dialogue, interactions, and plot devices aren't cliche enough, want to know what the aliens are after? Gold. Why? We don't know... I mean, doesn't everyone want gold?

This film is an egregious case of a studio assembling a top director, a cast of well knowns, a decent special effects budget, and then saying "aww... good enough... the script doesn't really matter THAT much."

There is something about the airport at 5 a.m.

2011-09-06T03:16:00.000-07:00

Every time I book a 7 a.m. flight, I cringe a bit. Even living 20 minutes from the airport, it means getting up by 4:15 a.m. or so... and I am one of those people who can't sleep when I know I have to get up that early.

So here I sit-- up until 11:30 last night reading Game of Thrones (not up so much because of the book as I was on account of an unplanned 2 hour afternoon nap), then wide awake at 3 in the midst of my normal panic attack caused by dreaming I missed by flight.

I'm on my way to... wait/... where is it this time. Phoenix? No that was week before last... Vegas... no, that is vacation this coming weekend. Hold on, let me check my boarding pass... Hartford! Connecticut, here I come. And it is early, and even the airport is sleepy.

But there is something about airports this early in the morning. I've travelled wayyyyyy more than I like to these past six months or so (after this week, I hit my slow season-- HOORAY!), but despite my general loathing of security lines, digging for a boarding pass, and sitting next to some guy on the plane with hairy arms (who, inevitably, feels he should take his shoes off for the whole flight) I love being in the airport this early.

Typically, its airports that make me so weary of travel. I like seeing new places, new regional cuisines, and I adore a few nights to myself in a big, fluffy hotel bed, but travel is usually made worse by other travelers. Think about it-- in an airport, everyone is sort of isolated. You're in your own world, heading to your own destination. That is all well and good, but it typically translates to an obliviousness that often borders on inconsideration to those around you. We stop and hunt for our boarding pass... oh wait, there are 15 people behind us trying to get to their gate before the door closes. We spread our belongings out across two seats so we can easily keep track of everything, not realizing that there are 10 people standing at the gate who would want to sit down.

But not this early. All of the mild travel transgressions which most of us are guilty of at some point or another seem to not apply at 6 a.m. We all walk around clutching our coffee for all its worth. No one is on their cell phone moseying along in the way. Everyone is just trying to get where their going, and we are all bonded by a common, muted disdain for being awake this early.

I like the airport when it sleeps. And I am looking forward to getting on this plane so I can as well. Me without enough sleep= no good!

To commit, or not to commit... a writer's poll

2011-08-16T04:30:00.000-07:00

OK, here is something not so secret about me... I can't commit.

To expound on that, there are somethings I am very good about being faithful to-- like religion, a relationship, and (usually) a job. But my hair style, hair color, the arrangement of the furnture in my house, what is in fact the best movie I've ever seen, and my writing, well, I struggle with the desire for constant change.

I've talked to several writers over the past couple of months, and was surprised to hear over and over that getting started on their novel was the hardest part. Really? If that is the going feeling, then I am a writing freakshow.

I like beginning the best. Writing those first five or ten pages is the most amazing feeling. The blankness of it rolls out in front of me. At ten pages, it has so much potential, and I have so many ideas...Starting has never been my problem-- as evinced by four novels and two short stories in progress-- commiting to a story and finishing it is my problem. Even when I reach the natural end, I still have too many more ideas about what I could do to really feel like something is done.

To all of my fellow writers out there, what is yor process? Am I really a writing freakshow?

Anger

2011-08-13T05:30:00.000-07:00

Today is a day for melodrama, and I am not even going to apologize for it. One year ago today, I stepped off a hospital elevator expecting to face yet another solvable emergency in my mom's long, hard fight with cancer. Instead, I heard two simple words -- she's gone-- and those two simple words changed so much.

Too many of us have experienced this-- losing someone we loved to cancer. I lost my mother before my thirtieth birthday. I lost my mother unfairly. She was too young, too good, and fought too hard to just be gone. While navigating this astounding void left by her death, I've learned way more about grief than I ever cared to.

I've learned that grief is not something you cope with, it's something you learn to hide. My niece was born this year, my book published, my birthday celebrated. All of these amazing things have brought joy into my life, and every ounce of joy brings a bit of sadness. Every one of these happenings should not have happened without being about to share it with my mom. This is what life is after loss- always a tinge of bittersweet. And it doesn't fade. You just learn to ignore it or to hide it more often and more thoroughly as the days pass.

I've learned that grief is not something you can plan around, which is really tough for a planner like me. The most unexpected moments, the oddest memories, can pull me back from feeling stronger, more confident, more OK to that very moment when I heard those words and felt as though the world was caving in on me.

I've learned that grief is best cut with anger. I know there are seven stages of grief, but for once in my life, I am not working very hard to move qiuckly. I've been on anger for more than eleven months, and I don't plan to leave any time soon.

Because I should be angry, right? My mom made our family a family. She was the voice that reassured me on bad days and now those days seem just a little worse. Hers was the smile that made accomplishments seem valuable and now those same accomplishments seem just a little empty.

My mother was a woman that made baby blankets for people she never met because she believed all children should have something home made. She was a woman who cooked for anyone sick. She embellished every store to emphasize the good in all of its players. She couldn't dance but refused to admit it and did it joyfully despite. She was my closest friend, made closer by a shared fight against a capricious disease. She fought with strength, resolve, faith, and hope in abundance, and deserved to see that count for more than it did. She found the delight in every small thing in life and her absense leaves everything feeling a bit dull. She died when she was too young, and she suffered too much.

I don't want reassurance today. I don't want to hear about time healing this. I am angry--we all should be.

Cancer is unbiased and cruel. As a sufferer, survivor, care giver, loved one, or casual friend, we have all felt the impacts of this disease. We all get angry over many things-- politics, work, traffic-- and work to move past it. But we should not move past this-- we need to stay angry over the presence of such a feckless killer. Because, in our anger, we can move against it.

Today, I am making a donation in my mother's honor to the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation. Perhaps writing a check doesn't seem like much of a movement, but it is. The money we raise becomes research, new treatments, and lives saved. I can only hope my anger will somehow help others to never have to feel it.

If like me, you've felt this anger, I encourage you to give if you can. My mom's page is here if you would like to donate in her name. Or, give in the name of someone you've lost or seen fight. And if you can't give, participate in the fundraisers, write a letter to a cancer patient, share this blog, etc.

Let's all stay angry until we've restored the dignity, independance, and life to the sufferers of this disease.

I miss my mom today, like every day. Today I just allow myself to admit just how much.

How to Rate a City

2011-07-25T05:11:00.000-07:00

As promised a few weeks ago, I want to share some of my travel photos with you. Calling them "photos" is probably elevating these a bit much-- they are snapshots. Mostly when I am exploring a city and taking pictures, I am by myself, stealing a few moments away from a work trip. This doesn't leave a lot of time to really get to know a place, so I have a simple rating system that helps me separate the "I like this place" from "I don't ever want to go back." Here it is:

The locals-- This category usually gets entirely judged by how nice the cab driver that takes me from the airport to the hotel is, though sometimes it is supplemented by servers, gift shop workers, and the odd pedestrian I ask for directions when I get lost. The food-- The biggest perk for me of travelling is getting to sample excellent local faire. So, do you have any?
The scenery-- Is there anything to look at? I only get to judge this one when I stay in town, and not at a convention center or in a suburban Hampton Inn.
The history/attractions-- I am a history nerd, so I love going places where something happened, or there is something great to see. .

The weather-- This is big for me. I hate hot and muggy-- it isn't an automatic bad mark if a place is hot and muggy-- New Orleans is my FAVORITE city, but I would never go in the summer.

And so, here is a quick recap of my latest trip, and one that surprised me-- Memphis, Tennessee. I really liked Memphis, and I didn't expect to. For one, I was going south in July and expected hot (which it was), and other cities I have been to in Tennessee have been.... well, just fine. Memphis is different, though.

The people were friendly, and I stayed smack in the middle of downtown. Though the entire area felt a bit economically depressed, Main Street was beautiful and charming. Beale Street is a great attraction for music lovers or foodies. I got a crawfish po-boy. Anywhere that serves me a crawfish po-boy is a winner to me!

I didn't get to do Graceland, but still feel like I got the entire Elvis experience just by being in Memphis. I snapped a bunch of photos, and am attaching some, but if you're looking for a winter getaway... see Memphis.

James Dashner on Trial!

2011-07-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

And it is an easy trial—he’s been found awesome. The author of The Maze Runner and The Scorch Trials, along with several other books, writes true adventure with a fun, edgy, YA spin.

Thomas is the hero of both books, and what a reluctant hero he is. At the opening of The Maze Runner, Thomas awakens in an a box with no memory other than his name. After some time in darkness, the box opens and reveals an idyllic glade, occupied by 40 or 50 other boys that arrived in much the same circumstance. In fact, a new boy has arrived once a month for as long as they could remember, so Thomas is nothing new.

Until the box opens to reveal a girl who brings an ominous message.

Dashner has created a world full of mystery and vivid, rich characters. From page 1 of the first book through the last page of the second, I was hooked. I found myself staying up way to late at night just to see what was going to happen next, which is always a test for me (I like sleep entirely too much to give it up for anything less than awesome).

I have only two mild complaints. One is that the boys of the Glade and beyond are faceless, other than Thomas’ friends, who are dynamic and thorough. Whenever someone dies or gets injured, Thomas notes that it is no one he knows, somehow diminishing the gravity of the situation. It also frustrates me because the characters that are developed are developed so well, that the facelessness of supporting boys seems rushed and haphazard, which is totally out of line with the rest of the tenor of the novels. I understand it when there are 50 of them, but when you are down to 11 or so in some situations, I would at least like to see 11 names.

And secondly, which may turn out to be a minor or major complaint depending on book 3 is disaster fatigue. Dashner has pulled me in so completely, and I have toiled with Thomas and the gladers so intently, that even I feel like I need a nap. I seriously hope these boys get a break sometime soon.

All in all, and excellent series, and a thoroughly fun read.

More on Cool Kid Melissa Kline

2011-07-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

After much excited waiting, when Melissa Kline’s My Beginning landed in my hands, I literally giggled. In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve met Melissa because we both were published through Lucky Press, small publisher extraordinaire. We’ve developed an online camaraderie, and her personality and passion for writing made me so excited to read this book.

Adding to the excitement is that this book is right up my alley. Dystopian world? Sweet. Science fiction twist? Woohoo. Romantic story line that I will pretend to tolerate while really gushing over? Yes, please!

In all of these things, My Beginning did not disappoint. Imagine Battlestar Gallactica meets Never Let Me Go. A thoroughly excited read, and a truly fun story, I am happy to report that my excitement was not misplaced.

Melissa weaves the story of Ivory, raised in a stark and limiting Institution where free time, thought, and will are foreign concepts. Despite being forbidden to speak to the opposite sex, Ivory falls in love with Aiden (like you do when you’re 16), the mysterious new boy. The bond between the two forces them to seek out a new life and learn about life outside of the walls that have so oppressed them.

Melissa has captured the feeling of being 16 so well in Ivory that I literally found myself speaking aloud to her at times. Give it a read. You will be pulled in, for sure!

On Being Rejected and Loving Baltimore

2011-07-21T05:00:00.000-07:00

Two concepts recently converged for me, reminding me of why I call Baltimore home!

Concept 1: I have to live somewhere diverse. I love places with lots of types of things to do and people from all different backgrounds and situations. These things breed possibility, and sometimes dissonance, and such things are fodder for the writer in me. Because of this, I love, love Baltimore.

Concept 2: I don't handle rejection well. Seriously, I don't. Innevitably after every rejection letter I receive, I spend at least a day convinced that I have absolutely no talent and should quit trying to be a writer. And the annoying thing is that I KNOW rejection is part of being a writer (and I do talk myself out of it), and I know I shouldn't get so upset, but I do.

These concepts converged on Tuesday night when I came home from a bad day at work to find a rejection letter. And the worst kind-- the kind I waited six weeks for and thought I had a real shot at. I commenced my normal post-rejection letter freak out, which led to a trip to the grocery store for a post-rejection Berger Cookie.

If you're not from Baltimore, you may not know what a Berger cookie is, so let me enlighten you. This is a Berger cookie. It's like a cakey-cookie and fudge had a baby and their sweet baby helps get me out of a funk every now and again.

While in line to buy my Berger cookies, I noticed that behind me were two tall, muscular men in their mid-forties. They began discussing a friend's recent arrest, referring not only several bail bondsmen but also several guards at central booking by name. Following this, one man picks up a magazine about the upcoming wedding of Brad Pitt and Angelina Joley. He looks at his friend and says "Damn, it is about time he marries that woman."

The other man agrees, adding "And that mofo better $*)#( wear Armani to his #(%)#( wedding."

And I couldn't help but smile, inwardly thanking my city for always providing me with something random to make me laugh.

I immediately came home and began writing. I love you Baltimore!

The Official Conspiracy to Get to Tell Sherman Alexie How Awesome He Is!

2011-07-19T16:27:00.000-07:00

If you read my blog with any regularity, you know that I adore Sherman Alexie. Seriously, intensely. If there was a literary equivalent of Tiger Beat magazine, I would buy ever issue that mentioned his name. I think he is one of the most talented, diverse, profound and damn cool authors living today.

So when my friend shared a link with me saying that he would be at the Baltimore Book Festival, I was VERY excited by the opportunity to see him.

And then I thought "Holy Crap! You know who else is signing at the Baltimore Book Festival? ME!??!?!?!"

I am signing at the same event as my frigging hero. Which is so amazing and also makes me just a little bit sad... because... it means I won't get to see him. I have to be in the author tent during his talk, likely. So I won't ge tto talk to him.

To remedy this highly unnacceptable situation, I am initiating an official conspiracy. I need 5-10 good men or women who are going to see Sherman Alexie talk. I need them to wait in line. I need them to have him sign a book (trust me, I can supply you all with copies of his books). Then, as he signs, say "There is a rookie author in the author tent who thinks you're cooler than Justin Bieber and it would make her life if you walked over there and said "hi."

Who is signing up? Seriously... I am more excited than 13-year-old me would have been if Jonathan Brandis asked me to the eighth grade prom. For realz.

...And the winner is!

2011-07-15T05:55:00.000-07:00

Theresa! Thank you for your suggestions. (And Tia, and I right there with you on Taylor Lautner). I greatly appreciate everyone's participation in July's Who Would You Cast Blog Contest.

I have been very, very quiet so far this July. The reason is that I morph into a lower lifeform when it is hot. Seroiusly, that's me, I am a heat-snail! I secretly believe that I am an unclaimed decendant of Nanuck and when it gets hot, I suddenly am unable to think, or move without an immense amount of whining.

What I have been doing (aside from work and school), is reading a lot. So, over the next couple of days (weeks if the temperature gets above 95 again), check back for reviews of:

My Beginning by Melissa Kline
The Maze Runner by James Dashner
The Scorch Trials by James Dashner
The Color of Night by Madison Smartt Bell

I think I am also going to start sharing some of my travel photos soon. I am NOT nor do I claim to be a photographer, but I do like to get pictures of the cool places I have been as of late.

Be back later, after the sun sets.

Book Giveaway Contest Extended

2011-07-10T14:09:00.000-07:00

I am not just a lazy blogger, I swear! Last week was a mid-terms for grad school, and so I was overlooking my blog life in favor of forecasting, linear regression equations and some hot productivity anaylsis. I promise you, I'd rather have been here.

So two things:

1. The holiday gave us a slow start on our "Who Would You Cast" contest-- many thanks to our two entrants, but I think we can do better. So the contest from my last blog has been extended, and you have until July 13. I will announce a winner on the 14th. Come on.. it's fun, and all the cool kids are doing it. Here is the link: http://mmshaunakelley.blogspot.com/2011/07/who-would-you-cast-giveaway.html

2. I try really hard not to get political or controversial here, so I won't share any of my thoughts or opinions on Casey Anthony's aquittal last week (if you don't know what I am referring to, you must not live in the U.S.). I will say this, though-- I think it is criminal to not report that your child has been missing for over a month. And, more than a million people agree with me. Change.org has a peition in place to encourage states to make it a felony to not report that your child is missing or dead in a timely manner. If you agree with us, I encourage you to add your name to the petition. http://www.change.org/petitions/create-caylees-law

And I will be back around more this week, now that I have proven my Operational Management prowess.

Who Would You Cast? A giveaway!

2011-07-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

I saw this on Holly Schindler's blog and thought "what a great idea..."

I've heard from many, many people now that they feel like Max and Menna would make a great movie. I'm on the fence about that (I'm not sure how you would stay true to a story when the main characters cover at least 5 different ages throughout the book), but I am a very visual person! I actually have people in my head that have always been Max, Menna, or Nick to me.

But who would YOU cast? Share your thoughts, cast at least 1 character, and it may just be worth your while. One lucky commenter will win their choice of several Lucky Press titles (outlined below).

And if you haven't read Max and Menna, no worries. Keep in mind that Max, Menna, and Nick all have black hair, and read the synopsis below for some information. I am also shamelessly posting some review links so maybe you would want to read Max and Menna.

Titles to Win:
My Beginning by Melissa Kline
Norah by Cynthia Neale
Guardian Spirit by Sarah Martin Byrd
Leaving the Hall Light On by Madeline Sharples
String Bridge by Jessica Bell (pre-order)

And here is some more information on Max and Menna

MAX AND MENNA tells the story of two siblings surviving a deplorable home life in the South in the early 1980s. Telling the story from each of their viewpoints, Max and Menna outline their reliance on each other and on Nick, their only friend, as they cope with growing up in poverty, living with an alcoholic mother, and having no indication of the other half of their parentage.

The story really begins when Max and Menna meet Nick, a Native American, and the story continues to take place during their summer vacations progressively through high school. Max, quiet and introspective, struggles to understand how to be the only man in the house and protect a family that seems determined to destroy itself. Menna is quick-tempered and vivacious, and grows to love and view Nick as a method of coping with a childhood that requires her to be very adult. Despite the strength of the bond the three of them share, however, their environment works against them. As the children of the town drunk, the younger siblings of the town slut, and the friends of an Indian from "over the fence," Max and Menna fight not only to grow up, and get out, but to stay together, and stay safe.

Reviews for Max and Menna:
http://actinupwithbooks.blogspot.com/2011/06/review-max-and-menna-by-shauna-kelley.html
http://maggiesbookshelf.blogspot.com/2010/08/max-and-menna.html
http://www.forewordreviews.com/reviews/max-and-menna/
http://www.rebeccasreads.com/Reviews/ReviewKelleyMaxAndMenna.html

Summer Reading List #3-- That book you always meant to read

2011-07-01T04:00:00.000-07:00

Of all of my summer reading suggestions, I imagine that this is the one that the most people will have already read. But if you haven't, why not??

On vacation, I always try to read the "How have I never read that before??" book... last summer I read The Picture of Dorian Gray because I couldn't believe I had made it this far in life without reading that book. So here is my suggestion for you...

The Handmaids Tale, by Margaret Atwood

Seriously, if you haven't read this book, do it!! It is honestly one of the most important books of the twentieth century (and that isn't just me talking... most of the literary world agrees).

In 1986, Margaret Atwood (already a powerhouse voice in the feminist community by then) gave us a frightening vision-- a future where women are so controlled, so restricted, that they have simply become labels to society. The demure and "morally fit" Wives serve as companions to important men, while "Marthas" clean their homes and prepare their meals. Most disturbingly of all, the Handmaids exist in the society to bear children. They are assigned to a man deemed worthy of a child, and become known only by his name (our narrator is Offred, or Of Fred). Their function in life is to get pregnant, give birth, and watch as their child is taken by a wife to raise as her own.

This isn't my favorite book... it isn't even my favorite Margaret Atwood book (that honor goes to The Blind Assassin). But, it is a thoroughly enjoyable and extremely important book. Women, writers, literary lovers... all types. This is a book for everyone!

Summer Reading List #2-- The Genuinely Spooky

2011-06-29T04:00:00.000-07:00

On my quest to recommend some great books to carry you through vacation, I am revealing something about myself-- I read a little bit of everything. Like my taste in movies, my taste in books typically would be described more easily by what I don't read than what I do. I don't read (or watch) comedies, romantic comedies, or romances. Almost everything else is fair game.

In the horror genre (which I watch more than I read), I have previously expoused my love for Stephen King's IT, but for a summer reading recommendation, I am going a different way.

Lost Boys, by Orson Scott Card

No, this is not the basis on the vampire movie (though I love them both). This is a book about a Mormon family relocating from Utah to a small town in the east coast. Step and his wife Diane immediately become concerned as they learn of a rash of mysterious disappearances, all involving the town's young boys. Their concern grows when their previously buoyant eight-year-old son Stevie is suddenly withdrawn, preferring the company of his new and growing army of imaginary friends.

This book is genuinely creepy, downright scary at times. Written with Card's usual penchant of narrative the carries (rather than pulls) you through a story, you will find it hard to put down.

If you've got a few days off and can afford to sleep with the lights on, this is highly recommended!

Summer Reading List... Number #1: How to Turn Off Your Mind

2011-06-28T05:09:00.000-07:00

I, unfortuantely, have one of those jobs where a summer vacation is nearly impossible-- I am a spring/fall vacationer. Nonetheless, I always try and find myself on a beach here and there, book in hand. There is nothing more relaxing than summer reading. And so, I thought I would share a handful of book recommnedations for anyone who has time to focus on their summer reading.

So Book #1-- The fun, engaging read that will let you shut your mind down and focus on the surf

Dead to the World, by Charlainne Harris

I've read nearly every Sookie Stackhouse novel (for some reason I skipped the first). As someone who worships the literary greats like Margaret Atwood, John Irving, and Madison Smartt Bell, this feels like an odd choice, but these books are amazing for what they are-- pure, unpretensious entertainment.

The Sookie Stackhouse novels will surprise you, make you laugh, and (yes) at times make you groan and roll your eyes. But they will also pull you in and hold you in delightful anticipation.

This, the fourth novel, was by far my favorite and happens to coincide with this season of True Blood. Trubie or no, this is the ultimate beach read. And, you don't have to have read the first three books to jump in on number 4... BUT, I consumer each one of these books in about a day, so if you have the luxury of ten days at the beach, you may be able to get through the whole series and still have time for a BBQ and amusement park :)

What you don't know about being a writer...

2011-06-26T17:23:00.000-07:00

... Is that it takes PATIENCE! And, you might have heard, those of us of Irish decent are not known for possessing this virtue in abundance.

But it does... patience.

For example, the process of submitting work for publication takes a really, really long time, which is not a mystery to anyone in the world. I started submitting work seriously when I was 22-- short stories, novel queries, etc. It took 7 years to get published.

Looking at a novel, for example, the process CAN go something like this:

1. Send query (email or print) and wait at least 3 weeks (usually more like 6) for a response.
2. If the publisher/agent wants to see more, send the full manuscript, and wait 6-12 weeks for a response. If they decline your query, start again.
3. If the publisher wants your work... well... best case. Otherwise, start over.

So, all in all, one rejection can take 18 weeks or so. Now, I have had dark periods where I stop submitting for months, or years, but I am commited to dilligence now.

And I am in the middle of this, currently! I declined a publishing contract on book #2 because it wasn't what I envisioned, and went another way. I know have someone reviewing the full manuscript, and have put in 3.5 weeks of waiting for a response.

I think I have a few more weeks yet, but I do wish the mail man would show me some love!

Feeling like a writer again!

2011-06-25T10:52:00.000-07:00

Today, as we brace for the announcement of the Book of the Year awards, I am rememdying a nagging feeling I have had all week-- I haven't felt like a writer.

Its the issue with us writing types-- so many of us are temperamental. I'm stalled waiting on some things to come to fruition on book #2, which is really frustrating. I also a very mediocre review of Max and Menna last week. I really need to work on thick skin! It wasn't even a really bad review, but I let myself get all upset and discouraged...

As a result of all of this, I have just felt stuck, and very un-writerly.

And so I owe my ultimate thanks to Joli from Acting Up with Books. She recieved a review copy a few months ago, and posted her review of Max and Menna last week. Not only is her review humblingly positive (seriously, I am speechless), but she also really seemed to get the intention of the novel. It's a great feeling to see a reader really engage with your work! If you want to read her review, you can find it here: http://actinupwithbooks.blogspot.com/2011/06/review-max-and-menna-by-shauna-kelley.html

Thus, two hours before the awards are announced, I finally feel like a writer again!

I am about to get in the car and meet my brother in Atlantic City for some good food, good company, and craps! I have my fingers crossed for my fellow Lucky Press authors who are finalists as well-- they both truly deserve the awards-- as for me, I am just honored to be acknowledged alongside books like A Blue So Dark, and The Second Trial... and hopeful that the craps table will render me a winner anyway!

Can YOU cure my wander lust?

2011-06-18T10:09:00.000-07:00

I have been on the road 50% of the time in June and I am EXHAUSTED. Here is the deep dark secret about those of us who travel for work a lot-- it really isn't a glamorous thing. It's a lot of mediocre room service in a suburban hotel room just far enough a way from the interesting sounding city you flew into to make it difficult to actually see anything.

In short-- its frustrating to go a lot of places, but never see anything.

So ironically, as tired as I am of airports (I literally just had to look at the information kiosk to remember that I'm in Detroit), all the travel gets my wander lust up. I've lived in the same state my whole life, and while I highly doubt I will relocate any time soon, I do like to dream and virtually shop for a new place to live.

My weird, virtual city hopping led me to take a quiz online the other night about what city is most suited to me... the very humorous answer-- Sioux Falls, South Dakota. And actually, on looking into it, the city has a lot of things I love, but 1/8 of the population of Baltimore-- and even Baltimore feels a little small to me.

So I am open to suggestions for my virtual relocation-- tell me about where you live, and maybe I can imaginarily move there soon! Here's what I am looking for:

Size! I need to be in close proximity (an hour or less) to a city of at least half a million.
Diversity! I like being in an area where lots of cultures and types of people interact. I couldn't thrive in an environment where everyone is the same religion, for example.
History! I LOVE Baltimore because so much has happened there. I like historic buildings, and fun cultural anecdotes
Food! Yes, sir. I need to be somewhere with really good regional cuisine, but also LOTS of options for other types of food.

So where should I pretend to move??

Review- I'd Know You Anywhere

2011-06-17T14:44:00.000-07:00

I have an entire shelf of "airport" books, i.e. books I bought at the airport when I finished the books I had with me. I have discovered some great authors this way, like Libba Bray and Kira Salak. So, I had great expectations for Laura Lippman's I'd Know You Anywhere (Atlanta Airport), based on some stellar quotes on the cover. Maybe the expectations cause my disappointment in this book to be greater than it deserved.

Premise: Eliza and her family have just moved back into the vicinity of her childhood home, a home from which she was kidnapped, raped, and held captive for 6 weeks by Walter Bowman. Eliza is the only victim he left alive, and now he has found a way to communicate with her. Through an intermediary, he convinces Eliza to not only talk to him on the phone, but also to come and visit him.

I bought it because, as I read the back, I thought "for real? A victim going to have a friendly chat with her rapist?" but according to the New York TImes Book Review, Lippman convinces us that this is possible and logical. And, Laura Lippman is a really good writer. Her voice is engaging, and she has a wonderful penchant for simple descriptions that communicate volumes. I want to read more of her stuff, despite not liking this.

It pains me to say negative things about other people's work, knowing how sensitive I am about my own. But, the disappointment I felt at the end of this book was overwhelming. I feeel arrogant for saying this, but I disagree with the New York Times. I do not believe that Lippman has created a scenario in which I believe a rape victim will go chat with their rapist (that is a hard sell to me as a woman). And the "terrible secret she's kept burried inside" that the back cover copy promised me was neither terrible, nor really a secret. The characterization is flimsy (particularly with Eliza), and the real strength of the book-- the flashbacks telling of her captivity-- are too few and far between to save it for me.

I'm sorry to Ms. Lippman, and hope you will not find me arrogant for so blatantly arguing with the most respected book review publication in the world, but I just don't buy it. I wanted to love this book. I expected intense psychological prose that sucked me in and made me believe. What I got was a book that forced me to wear a constantly dubious facial expression the whole time I read it.

More on the competition-- Review of A Blue So Dark

2011-06-15T06:22:00.000-07:00

A Blue So Dark by Holly Schindler is the second of my fellow nominees for the YA Book of the Year Award from Foreword Magazine that I have read. And, for the second time, I am thoroughly honored to be nominated with this totally excellent novel.

This novel is told through the voice of fifteen-year-old Aura Ambrose, who is artistic, sarcastic, and keenly insightful. Her father is MIA and her mother, also an artist, is a schizophrenic who was decided to go off of her meds. Aura vividly describes the disintegration of her mother's mental state, as well as her own life, as the illness takes over. Standard teen moments, likether first kiss with that boy, are interspersed between moments of Aura skipping school to put out the fire her mother attempts to start in the bathroom.

Beautiful and terrifying, the book explores the link between mental illness and creativity, from the perspective of a family member. There were a few minor complaints I had-- I wish Schindler had taken her time a bit more at the onset, showing us mom before she got sick, and creating some normalcy for Aura before we see her life crumble. Overall, though, a wonderful read and highly recommended.

When Dreamy Men Disappoint: X-Men: First Class

2011-06-14T14:07:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about my ecstatic excitement over the forthcoming X-Men : First Class movie, because it combined two of my favorite things-- the X-Men, and dreamy man James McAvoy. So, on my first free afternoon, I headed to the theater...

... and I was reminded that, much like chocolate and red wine, loving two things does not necessarily mean you will love them together. I found the movie overwhelmingly disappointing.

One of the better aspects of the previous movies have been a quick build up to the central conflict-- who are we fighting and why, with a healthy dose of tension between fighting other mutants and fighting the humans that hate mutants. Not so in this movie-- half an hour in, I was still wondering why the bad guy was wanted by the CIA. Forty minutes or so, and we finally get to actual conflict that requires cooperation of all the mutants and human.

There are gaping contradictions between the first four movies and this one, the acting was just OK. Kevin Bacon was good, and James McAvoy did a good job, but the character just wasn't Professor X. Their job was not aided by costume and set design that was just plain caracitureish. I frequently had to remind myself that I wasn't watching an Austin Powers movie.

All in all, not as disappointing as Terminator: Salvation, but most definitely a movie that does not live up to its potential.

More on the cool kids...Melissa Kline, fellow LP author

2011-06-12T07:46:00.000-07:00

You ever meet someone virtually and just know that if you met them in person, you'd just adore them?

Well, meet Melissa Kline, author of next month's release My Beginning from Lucky Press, publisher extraordinaire. Melissa is a wonderful fellow blogger, finds ways to make me smile through her comments and feedback on bad days, and even better, is immensely talented. Through her blog, I have gotten to preview her writing and must say that hers is one of the two books I am most looking forward to for this year (the other being String Bridge by Jessica Bell).

Want a taste of why I am so anxious? Here is the description from Amazon (where the book is available for pre-order)...

My Beginning is told through the eyes of Ivory, a 16-year-old girl who has lived her entire life within the walls of an institution. The institution is one of many supposedly set up to protect those within from a worldwide plague. She and all of the other surviving children live a strict, mundane life full of tasks and responsibilities--forbidden to go outside, congregate or even look at the opposite sex. Despite the uncompromising atmosphere, Ivory manages to pique the interest of the only boy who did not grow up in the institution, creating a love affair neither of them expected. Multiple secret meetings take a turn for the worse when they are caught and severely punished, but through unexpected circumstances they find themselves on the outside. There is a lot more to the world than they could have ever imagined when they learn of a war and lifelike machines that threaten humankind. Ivory faces many unexpected challenges, and, ultimately, it is up to her to save Aidan and the world she has grown to love.

So I encourage you to go get to know Melissa a bit better, and I will look forward to posting my review of her work later on this summer, after I have had the opportunity to review it. Surf over here: http://melissaklineauthor.com/my-beginning/

... and the winner is...

2011-06-11T07:20:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone for their participation in last week's contest. I am excited to see so many reviews! I apologize for being MIA most of the week-- work took me on a mini tour of the US: Baltimore to Dallas to Atlanta to Orlando to Baltimore, all in the span of 4.5 days.

But now, I am excited to announce the winners I've drawn from the hat-- well, actually, a bowl, as I couldn't find a hat. Because there were so many excellent reviews posted, I've decided to award TWO prizes! And here they are:

A $25 Amazon gift certificate goes to Vivien for her Goodreads review of Forbidden, located here: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/164489367. This book is not my normal type of read, but I must say that I am intrigued by a book that "Flays you alive" (according to Vivien).

AND

A $10 Amazon gift certficiate goes to Bee for her Goodreads review of Fury, located here: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/157180250, a review that promises, in all caps, to introduce me to one of the best characters written in YA. Ever.

I will be emailing the winners today about these prizes, but all of the reviews posted were truly exccellent. I am so honored and excited to inhabit an online community that is so communitted to sharing their love of books. Again, I thank you all.

And since it is Saturday, and I have decided to refer to this day henceforth as "Shameless Self Promotion Saturday" check out Carbohydrates and Conjunctions, a very excellent blog about reading and eating (two of my favorite things) for a new review of Max and Menna: http://carbsnconjugations.blogspot.com/

Use your words.... a Giveaway!

2011-06-03T15:00:00.000-07:00

I've said it before and I will say it again-- we live in an awesome time! Authors have the option of interacting directly with our readers. And readers have so much power...

Thats right... power. Reviewing books, blogging, posting, etc. allow you all to share with the world your likes, your dislikes, your passionate loves in the book world. And people listen. Libraries consult blog reviews before deciding which books to offer. Fellow readers use your reviews to pick their next book. Authors thrive on your feedback, the good, the bad, and the ugly, to keep us going.

And so I want to keep continuing to encourage you to use your words! And I am rewarding one lucky winner for it. Here's how it works:

Go to Amazon, GoodReads, your blog, or Barnes and Noble and post a review about a book that has thrilled you, filled you with passion, or inspired you. It can be any book at all!
Come back here and post a comment to tell me what book and where you reviewed it.
I will enter all of the reviewers into a hat, and select the winner, to be announced during the second week of June.

The winner recieves a $25 Amazon Gift Card.

So use your words, people! Share your passion with a community of readers.
And Char-- I still have Max and Menna for you if you email me an address...

I've entered the digital age!

2011-06-01T12:16:00.000-07:00

It's an exciting day-- the Kindle version of Max and Menna is up! Visit Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Max-and-Menna-ebook/dp/B0053QY1MY/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1306951364&sr=1-3-catcorr

I'm an eBook author now, too!

There have been lots of good things happening with the book, and I don't know how faithfully I have shared the news here, so here is a quick recap to accompany new of the Kindle version:

The ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year winners will be announced this month, and Max and Menna is a finalist in the Young Adult Fiction category.
Max and Menna was included in the new title listings presented at Book Expo America last week
In September, I will be in the local author tent at the Baltimore Book Festival
In October, I am presenting at the Barnes & Noble in Bel Air, MD as part of the diversity festival they sponsor with the local high school

In addition, good reviews keep coming in, and I am honored, humbled, and excited to see my book find a small place in the literary community. Having a voice as a writer has been my dream for a long time, and I constantly feel blessed for the opportunities I have to share that voice.

And, I am ALWAYS grateful to you all for reading and sharing in my excitement. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

My favorite-- a lazy Sunday

2011-05-29T06:35:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes, yes, I complain about being busy too much. I actually listened to myself the other day and thought "oh, no, I am one of those people..." I envisioned myself with a long-neck cigarette saying "Darling, we simply MUST do lunch, if I could ever find the time, so swamped, you know how it is..." And I laughed at myself, both for complaining, and then for envisioning myself as an F. Scott Fitzgerald character without even intending to.

But, I am enjoying something delightful at the moment, something: a lazy Sunday. I woke up hours before everyone else (one of the perks to not being able to sleep past 7:30 a.m.... EVER), made coffee, caught up on emails. I'm putting in a movie, opening up the file for book #3, and writing, writing, writing as soon as I hit "post" here. And then a nap... then I might bake...

My complaints about being busy stem from not enough lazy Sundays. I had a great and brief conversation with fellow author Jessica Bell (check out her blog at http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/) about this this week-- when you're a writer, you can always be writing, or promoting, or writing, or promoting, which makes it hard to accept the need for sleeping or relaxing.

But oh, the lazy Sunday. What are you all doing on this three day weekend? What are your favorite lazy Sunday loves.

Sizing up the competition...

2011-05-26T04:42:00.000-07:00

...Well, not really. Before Max and Menna, I never anticipated myself writing young adult fiction, and so I'm trying to read as much in the genre as I can. I catching up, and falling in love with this genre, very, very quickly! So when my book was nominated for a ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year Award in the Young Adult category, I was curious to read the other books in this category. I've gotten through one so far, but can honestly say that I am honored to be nominated in the same category!

The Second Trial by Rosemare Boll is the story of Danny, who unknowingly grew up the son of an abusive, manipulative father. Danny's dad abused his mom in secret, and Danny's mom did her best to cover it up. Thus, when Danny finds himself at a trial sentencing his father for the attempted murder of his mother, he is still not even sure that the abuse ever happened... and just as he starts to understand how dangerous his father is, the man is released from prison, sending Danny, his mom, and his sister into witness protection... and starting over.

I've railed before against all YA fiction writers believing that teens are nothing but angst-filled, back-talking, selfish, juvenille kids. In the case of Danny, Boll has taken every one of those attributes and made it not only believable, but understandable, and I loved this book.

Wonderfully characterized, Danny and his mother come to life on the page, revealing an unsettling tension between them. My empathy for Danny, being transplanted into a new world after discovering that his whole life was full of lies, ran deep. Nonetheless, as a woman, I felt an enormous sympathy for his mom, who tried, above all else, to do what was best for her kids and had to watch as these decisions turned their lives upside down.

Never veering into the melodramatic or trite, the book has a straightforward prose, allowing a reader to assign his or her own feelings and assessments to these extrodinary situations instead of directing. I appreciate that, and Boll's subtley building to a climax that is muted (I keep using that word), but nonetheless powerful.

An outstanding first novel!

I feel like I run with the cool kids...

2011-05-24T14:00:00.000-07:00

... and by the cool kids, I mean the other amazing Lucky Press authors. Every time I read another Lucky Press author, I am struck by how lucky (pun intended) I am to be a part of this group.

I just finished Norah, a work of historical fiction by Cynthia Neale. By all counts, I shouldn't have liked it. I don't read historical fiction, I typically shy away from third person books, American history is far less intriguing to me than European, etc.... Everything about Norah said "not my style."

Nonetheless, Neale pulled me in and kept me enthralled with her story for more than 200 pages!

Norah McCabe is an Irish woman living in a New York city slum in the mid 1800's. Having fled Ireland, and the Great Hunger, with her family, Norah isn't like other women. She doesn't want to get married and give away her heart. She wants to have a rich, full life of her own. This is a book about a true feminist pioneer, but, as with everything about Neale's style, her portrayal of feminism in the time is masterful, muted, and beautifully written.

Neale clearly demonstrates passion for her story, and Norah is as real to me as if she lived next door. Other characters in the story come to life as well, but none so vividly as New York City. The backdrop of the city breathes in this book, becoming a character all its own and is, in fact, one of the richest elements of the novel.

While I found the pacing of the book to be a bit uneven in a few spots, I promise if you read Norah, you will have moments where you look up from its pages and find yourself surprised to be in 2011, and not 1850. It is very worth a read, and your time! Surf over to Amazon and check it out!

My favorite book... part 3, or why I LOVED Paranormalcy

2011-05-21T14:30:00.000-07:00

I LOVE getting lost in a book. Seriously. These are the moments I live for, and those that I wish and hope and strive to create as an author. And this is exactly why I am gushing about Paranormalcy, the first novel by Kiersten White. As a first novel, it is wonderfully impressive, well sculpted, and highly enjoyable. In the genre of teen paranormal fiction (which is, apparently, a HUGE genre), this is a book to set the bar much higher than it has been. Seriously, Bella Swan, you best watch your back.

I read about this book on a blog and ordered it our of curiousity. I took it on an airplane with me last Thursday, thinking it was something to read during those pesky take-off/landing periods where I couldn't have my computer open. In actuality,

I never opened my laptop.

Instead, I got pulled into the world of Evelyn (no last name), a member of an international organization charged with documenting, tagging, and nuetralizing all manners of paranormal fiends. And just like Bella Swan's ability to block Edward's telepathy and Sookie Stackhouse's ability to read the minds of the living, Evelyn has a gift. She sees through the glamours of the paranormal, which makes her one kick butt investigaotor.

I was instantly so impressed by White's writing, and so enamored of Evie's voice, that I found myself confused when the pilot came on the intercom to say we were landing. This was then followed by four hours of sheer aggravation that I had to work before I could finish.

Evie is what a heroine shoulsd be. Strong, empathetic, intelligent, sassy, and inquisitive-- this is a role model for girls, who is as admirable as she is real. White tells of first kisses, and the heart break of discovering her past all with the same gentle, believable touch.

All in all, very impressive, and highlyl recommended. Getting lost in the book-- my favorite book activity :) And with that stretch, I think we shall call this series closed!

My favorite book... Part 2

2011-05-19T17:29:00.000-07:00

Most of us bibliophiles have had this moment... we know MONTHS in advance when an author's next title will appear on shelves/Amazon, and we are waiting anxiously to devour it. It is, in fact, one of my favorite book moments... the arrival moment, when you are so excited and full of antcipation. I've had a few great ones in my life-- the seventh Harry Potter novel, Flight by Sherman Alexie, etc. But, one author gives me this chance about once a year, bringing me novels I devour in a day and find delightful, empty bliss within, and that novel is Charlaine Harris, who once a year publishes a new Sookie Stackhouse novel.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, these are the novels on which True Blood (the best show ever) is based. On book #7, I was mystified that I was still reading-- I typically loose interest in a series after 3 or 4 books, but for these delightful, easy reads, I was still hooked on 7 or 8.

Last week, book 11 came in the mail, and I read it in a day. While I thoroughly enjoyed immersing myself in Harris' vampire world (think Twilight with an NC-17 rating), I am saddened to see my interest waning. Much of the dramatic tension that so pulled me in during the first 8-9 books just feels lacking in this last book (as it was somewhat in book 10). Sookie, or perhaps Harris, just seems to be going through the motions in this last installation, and I am very hopeful that next May a new, exciting book will bring the series back to its initial glory.

Or, eventually, Harris will run out of creative ways to work "Dead" into the title of a book :)

Regardless, the anticipation is still one of my favorite book moments.

My favorite book... Part 1

2011-05-13T06:00:00.000-07:00

I'm apparently all about the series, lately, so here is another topic I love... my favorite book _________. Part 1, my favorite (independant) bookstore.

This one is easy, and I am going to call out a store I have (unfortunately) only had the pleasure of visiting twice-- Main Street Books in Frostburg, MD. In the interest of full disclosure, They were the first bookstore to host a signing event for Max and Menna, so I am a bit biased, but my bias cannot taint the true amazingness of this place!

I love readers-- most of my friends read voraciously. I do believe there are readers who love to read for pleasure, distraction, etc., and then there are true bibliophiles, who get so engrossed in stories that they are consumed and can think of nothing else when in the middle of a good book. Readers can become biblophiles, bibliophiles get busy and are readers, and regardless of classification, they are all the kind of people I want to be around!

When you walk into Main Street Books, all you feel is "Bibliophiles live here." It's a warm, inviting space with friendly employees and a focus that is consistently and constantly on the love of books. The whole time I was there, I just kept thinking "I wish this place was next to MY house!" And I do... I can just invision finding a book and a corner and losing an afternoon at Main Street Books. If you're in the area, I encourage you to do it!

And, since I travel a lot, I am curious-- where are these places near you? I need local haunts to visit when I am on the road!

Your favorite marketing mentions...

2011-05-10T15:30:00.000-07:00

I mention working a lot, but don't often talk about what it is. I'm a marketer... I take products and help create the tools that best describe to people what the benefits of that product are and how it can help them. This is not only my job, really, it is one of my passions. I love what I do. Its the perfect mix of creative and analytical. And it has spurned one of my all time favorite hobbies... collecting "what were they thinking" advertisements.

I'm sure we all have a list... but this blog post was spurned by a particular sight this morning that I just have to share.

Cottonelle's "Get Fresh with a Friend" campaign... Really? Hygiene products and you're recommending we use them with friends?
A book on insurance billing for massage therapists with the tag line "Manipulate your life!"
And my absolute favorie that I saw on a truck this morning. Premise: Advertising Lance crackers. Photo: A packet of Lance crackers sticking out of someone's back pocket. Tag line: Do You Have a Lance in your Pants? ... Really??

Any additions?

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

My mom used to let us eat ice cream for breakfast on the Fourth of July.
She read my book and was angry with me for some of the outcomes.
She used to give people the oddest gifts. If you mentioned in passing (and sarcastically) once that you liked leopard print, for every birthday, Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, and sometimes St. Patrick's Day, she would buy you something leopard print.
She had this awful eggplant pants suit she wore to every special occasion.
You could say anything to her and she wouldn't judge you. She saw the best in everyone, always.

Much love to the awesome Moms out there. I wish mine was here, but I'm so glad I had her as long as I did. .

Prince Caspian and Fantasy

2011-05-05T15:30:00.001-07:00

As I type this, I am watching the Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. I love, love, love this movie for three reasons:

I love the series and I think the movie is a really good representation
I love a fantasy world so seamlessly constructed that you feel enterring the real-world again is jarring, and that is exactly how I felt after I saw this movie for the first time
I have such a massive movie-star crush on Ben Barnes. I'm for serious. He is so dreamy!

But, the thing this movie also does for me is remind me of how jealous I am of good fantasy writers. I cannot tell a lie... I watch more fantasy movies than I read fantasy books, and it isn't a genre I naturally gravitate towards in either form, but when it is done well, I am green with envy and love, love, lover it!

I am in awe of people who effectively create a whole world with new rules, new creatures, and (usually) really complex and sophisticated back stories or political alignments, etc.. For example, I watch the Harry Potter movies frequently, and just watched the Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring again on Easter and both movies (and all of the accompanying books) blow me away. To have that kind of imagination, to build something that rich.

I've written two novels and dozens of stories. I do not consider myself to be lacking in creativity, but I am astounded and in awe of strong fantasy writers.

So, what are the strong fantasy novels you've read/movies you watched. It's a prolific genre for sure, and one that I am suddenly re-inspired to delve into a littl more thoroughly.

Annoying annoyances in your reading

2011-05-03T15:00:00.000-07:00

On the YAtopia blog (one of my favorite frequent visits) over the weekend, there was a post about things in books that annoy you. She covered some classically over-used occurances that always pull me out of the stories. I was actually glad for the post, because as a writer, I like to know how not to annoy readers :)

But, I want to be a bit more constructive than just pointing out annoyances. To me, the difference between a good story and a great story is seamlnessness of storytelling, i.e. never letting the way something is written pull you out of what is written. Don't let the writing interrupt your story... they should build upon each other.

So here is something that pulls me out of a story--

In third person story, switching point of view. I know it sounds odd, but I have read several books lately that are told in third person limited and spend much of their time extremely focused on one character, narrating events clost to this character, and then suddenly (sometimes within the same paragraph), you're reading about what someone else thinks in response to the main character.

Is it technically wrong? I don't know, probably not... but it is abrupt. If you are closely following character A for 50 pages and feel totally immersed in character A, and then all the sudden you hear something character B is thinking, and then you are right back to character A, its disruptive. Maybe its just me...

So what about you, dear readers. What pulls you out of a story?

I'm never done!

2011-04-30T05:18:00.000-07:00

I am an impassioned re-writer. Even now, with Max and Menna in print, and in my hands, I occasionally think of things I would have changed, would do differently, want to add, how to make it better, etc.

So, I don't pretend to be a writing expert by any stretch, but what I do know is this. At some point, it's got to be done. Write it. Read it. Edit it. Read it again. Edit it again. Put it away for a while. Ask a person or two to read it. Edit it based on their feedback. Give it a few more days. Read it one last time, edit it again, call it done!

And so, in that vein, I am debuting novel #2. It's done. I've said it was done before. I've read it and rewritten it again. This time it is done! Done, done, done! So here is the synopsis... and I am working on some possibilities for getting it in print. I will keep you posted on that. This is what Don't Wake Up is all about.

Told from the perspective of Gillian, a plain, middle-aged woman, this story opens as she sits by the side of her comatose husband’s bed. As doctors and nurses rush to assure her that Ricky will recover well from this mysterious fall, Gillian muses over the years of cold silence and manipulation that have overshadowed their marriage, and her life.

While Gillian guiltily reveals that she hopes Ricky remains in his coma, leaving her to a delightfully empty house, his eyes open to reveal a man who claims to remember nothing of his former self. Gillian, convinced that this is only a furthering of the manipulations and cruel mind games that have filled most of her life, seeks to test this new Ricky. She invents a family they never had, and fills his head with stories of an imaginary life.

As she fabricates memories to give to this stranger husband, Gillian begins to reminisce about her sister Liza. The story of her Liza’s exodus from Gillian’s life unfolds in tandem with Ricky’s recovery, and holes in Gillian’s version of events become evident. How could a man so cold awaken so warm and caring? Why do the events leading up to Liza’s leaving continue to surface in her mind as she carries on an increasingly intricate charade?

As Ricky recovers and comes home, still sans his full memory, Gillian begins to question the validity of his illness, and subsequently the depravity of her actions. Constantly buoyed by memories of their loveless marriage, she progresses down a path that leaves her more and more resembling the deplorable man she describes in old Ricky. As new Ricky becomes increasingly soft and tender, Gillian must ask herself how far she will go to punish a man for sins he can’t remember committing.

My friend makes movies!

2011-04-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

About eight years ago, I was working as an intern at a trade publishing house. One day I picked up the phone to hear a voice on the other end ask how to go about submitting a query, and how long such things take, etc. When I told him it took about 4-5 months, the conversation went something like this:

Writer: "Four to five months? I could have half a baby in that time!"
Me: "Yes, but what would you do with half a baby?"
Writer: "I don't know, take it to parties, and stuff."
Me: Laughing too hard to respond

The writer is Shan Serafin, and the book, entitled Seventeen, was brilliant. I was so inspired by it that I kept emailing him, and we've been friends ever since. Shan lives in LA, and we've never met face-to-face, but converse over the phone or email frequently or infrequently as time allows.

And this is what is amazing about Shan: when he puts his mind to something, he does it.

Case in point-- available through On Demand you will currently find a film called Forest of the Living Dead, produced, written by, directed by, and staring my friend Shan Serafin You should watch it, especially if you are a horror movie fan.

The movie (not a zombie movie, as you might infer from the title) is about a man haunted by his ex-girlfriend, quite literally. She committed suicide in a mystical forest at the base of Mount Fuji, allowing her spirit to return and wreak general havoc in the life of the man who done her wrong. The story is fresh and original-- it plays on elements I've seen in other ghost stories or revenge stories, but avoids cliche-- the directing is stellar, and it has some genuinely look-away-this-is-creepy moments.

So I highly recommend my friend Shan's movie. If you've got $4.99 and a few hours to kill, surf over to On Demand.

I would be all the more effusive if my friend Shan would ever get around to reading Max and Menna... :)

I lied when I said I don't write poetry...

2011-04-25T17:36:00.000-07:00

... I guess I should say I don't write poetry per se...

As I've mentioned before, I try not to let this site become a place for me to unload my feelings. But I just discovered something I wrote in December of 2009. It's not a poem, it's not a story... it's more of a journal entry that is all mushy, gushy, and about my feelings. But it is relevant to the blog of a writer, because it is one of many, many notes and scraps and tidbits I have that I hope to one day piece together in some coherent fashion that pays adequate tribute to my mom, and to all of the other mom's fighting their butts off against cancer. And to all of the daughters holding their hands through it.

It made me sad to find this, but it reminded me that when I am ready, hers is a story that needs to be told. She was too amazing not to tell it-- I just hope I can do it better justice than this, but I was distraught when I wrote this... I have an excuse, really! ;)

I hope everyone had a good Easter, and that you avoid getting sucked into my melancholy, as it were. It's usually a transient phase for me anyway!
I can feel the grey of the sky seeping in. It’s on my coat, my hands, my face, as I struggle down the street, propelled by this guilt that has swept in so quickly. I shouldn’t have gone for a walk, no need to stretch my legs now. There will be so much time for that later. After.

The rain falls in fits and bursts, cold and shallow and angry. We are all torn, those of us that scurry down the street, between this primal urge to huddle together in some futile protest against the weather, and our lifelong training to walk with a purpose, head down, and keep from letting anyone unfamiliar into our world.

The familiar screech of an ambulance siren echoes down Baltimore Street like a drop of water in some dark cavern. I can’t help but shudder—how quickly I’ve learned to associate that sound with the dread of wondering if this is the moment when the constant flux, the wondering, ends and the grieving begins.

The square in front of the entrance is a buzz with the musings of these living dead. Can you spare a dollar, I’ve got to catch the bus. Everyone seems to be going somewhere, laying tracks up their arms.

Inside

The blood hangs scarlet from its perch on this dark pole. We’re sitting in the land of quickly worn Bibles and carefully veiled terror. Don’t worry, she says, today I just need blood.

Today I just need blood.

Half a world away, it spills on battlegrounds. We spend so much to kill, and fight so hard to live. I try not to think about it now. The irony is overwhelming, and I understand those dog-eared gospels. We all just want to know that someone gets to decide.

I remember my first trip into this jungle of IV poles. Here, poison comes in carefully weighed out pouches, bad news in rivers, and good news packaged with so many Surgeon General Warnings. Warning: Hope Has Been Known To Hurt.

Yesterday I shot the cork from my champagne across the living room, and cried freely over a perfect match. I grew drunk on this feeling, this knowing that we beat them, with their white coats and terrifying statistics.

And yet, here she sits today. I wonder at it now, the source of so much teenage angst, the target for my screaming and railing a mere decade ago, asking me to walk her to the bathroom. I hold her hand as she toddles, chide her for not bringing her cane, and despise myself a little for not knowing then that I would need her so much now.

The sobering news, reminder of that warning, perhaps I uncorked that champagne prematurely. I jinxed it. It’s an old trend, and so I should have known that being drunk with that power would mean this—they took it back. They added the “ifs.”

But now, the IV is beeping, the blood is done, and its time to head home. Give me your hand, I’ll walk you out. She has to stand on the corner while I get the car.

I watch over my shoulder anxiously before I disappear into the parking garage to make sure she is still OK. How many times did she do this when I was young?

The Space A Story Takes

2011-04-24T03:00:00.000-07:00

There is often a tension between what a writer wants to write, and what a reader wants to read. As a writer, I hate these types of questions. I want to write what is in my soul, but that doesn't always fit into a neatly bound package or on a bookshelf.

I am struggling with this currently as I have just finished my second novel (again-- yes, I am always editing) and it comes in at 49,600 words, or about 150 book pages. Technically speaking, anything under 50,000 words (and some say 70,000) is a novella. And I am torn. This is a book I am proud of. I'm not preparing for a Nobel by any stretch, but I love moments of it and think it is a story worth telling. But what to do with a book this short? There is more story in my head, but these are extra scenes that I may clutter the book.

I have never been a huge fan of books that take up more space than is called for. I love lyrical descriptions, and poetic narrative, and beautiful writing that carries you away, but have seldom appreciated extraneous pages, unnecessary back story, or unessential detail in any book. It is a skill to balance both, a skill I will likely be working on for the rest of my career, and I err on the side of simplicity over complexity. I would rather a story live in the space it is due, be it short or long, than expand it beyond its natural borders.

This is a rather nebulous concept, I imagine. Think about this:

A Prayer for Owen Meany may often seem that it is full of extraneous detail, but by the end you care convinced that every word and sentence is absolutely crucial. It is masterful. Many have told me I am wrong.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy is a book I am not actually a fan of, but I do have to appreciate the eloquence in how sparcely written it is (so sparce he all but ignores punctuation). There is not a single word in that entire book that is not crucial to the point conveyed. No one has ever disagreed with me here.

So I ask you as readers, what do you think? Do you have examples of a story that is so well constructed that not a single word is extra? Even better if those examples are short books....

Comfort Fiction-- Part 3

2011-04-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

In my series on comfort fiction, I have now covered movies, and television. The next logical place is books, right?

But how on Earth do I choose ONE book that comforts me to write about? I love to curl up in books, it is the best way for me to turn my brain off after a tough day? Reading is also a way to challenge myself, stimulate my brain, get my mind going.

There are just too many that I love too much to pick just one comfort book...

I read Ender's Game once a year. It reminds me of my adolesence (in a good way) and always inspires me
During tough times, the Sookie Stackhouse novels are incredible ways to turn off the world and escape into some juicy, fanciful, vampire stories
When I need reminded of how much power there is in simply being a woman, Margaret Atwood is always there for me
When I needed reminding that the the human spirit can prosper and overcome a lot more than one might think, my beloved Sherman Alexie is there for me
When I am craving the beautifully weird, hello John Irving

I just can't pick.

So here is what we're going to do-- tell me YOUR comfort fiction. What do you read when life gets rough? Or what book can you read over and over and over again? What book always fills you with some kind of something, or makes you feel infinite?

Post your answers (and the why) below. One lucky commenter is going to win a book... for once, I am not giving away Max and Menna! I am giving away one of my favorite works of comfort fiction, to be chosen based on the particular style of the winning commenter.

We interrupt our regularly scheduled broadcast...

2011-04-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

To wish a happy birthday to my roommate and very best friend Sarah. She doesn't blog, and she probably won't read this.

Sarah is not fiction... fiction doesn't occupy our only bathroom for what seems like hours every morning... but she is my comfort friend.

We met in the seventh grade, and have remained friends ever since. We should all have at least one friend (in addition to significant others) that we can say anything to, without fear of judgement. Sarah is that friend to me... I couldn't keep a secret from her if my life depended on it, and she has been a rock through the tough times of the past few years.

Happy birthday, roommie.

Comfort Fiction-- Part 2

2011-04-15T15:00:00.000-07:00

OK, I'm continuing with the theme. The month of April reminds me of grief and loss, so I am choosing instead to focus on the fiction that helps me cope. When I started this series, I thought "hmmm... hope I have enough to keep this going...." but I am actually having a hard time choosing just one thing to feature in each category. So, here goes:

The show: Sex and the City

I am reticent, actually, to sing the praises of this show because I have recently come to the conclusion that this show is the undoing of some portion of my generation. I know so many women in their thirties in the midst of major crisis that can, in some small way, be drawn back to this show. Real-life, powerful, successful, 30-something women seem to have difficulty in accepting their success and finding contentment in their lives because they don't look like those of Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha.

But, really, I doubt many women in New York have those lives... I have a hard time believing that on the income of one column, anyone could afford that many $450 shoes. (by the way, the combines sum of the price tags for every pair of shoes I own does not total $450). Women my age have a hard time believing that their single life is enough unless they have a $10,000 wardrobe, sweet apartment, and a steady parade of men. Consequently, all of these things are nearly impossible to acquire in Baltimore. Just FYI.

Nonetheless, I can watch this show anytime. Over and over again. I grimace over the similarities between myself and Carrie Bradshaw (though I am MUCH less emotional). I swoon over Steve, Harry, and Smith. I feel like one of the girls, and that feeling brings me much comfort, which is why, of all the shows I watch, this one makes the Comfort Fiction list.

Comfort Fiction-- Part 1

2011-04-12T15:00:00.000-07:00

Though I try not to talk about it (here, there, or anywhere), I think April is going to be tough for the rest of my life. April, August, November through January, most of the other months-- all have reminders that I lost my mom far too early. Her birthday was last week, and with Easter approaching, my thoughts freqently go to a woman who at least once a year made herself sick with jelly beans.

So I am approaching April as the month of comfort stories-- stories you crawl into, or that wrap around you like an old blanket and just make you feel at ease.

I invite and encourage all of you to share with me (and us) what stories comfort you...

So part 1-- the movie:

Disclaimer: I am not goth. I also do not condone violence, drug use, or excessive profanity.

The Crow. Weird 90's cult classic about revenge and love and, quite frankly, violence. This is not a movie for the faint of heart, for sure, and I find it a bit odd that I can watch it over and over and over. So, for clarity sake, it is not the brutal, graphic violence, incessant profanity, or blatant drug use that makes me love it so much. It's nostalgia. I watched this movie over and over and over again in high school (not attracted by the above then, either, but latching on to the whole "true love is forever idea"...).

I think it is one of the most quotable movies of my adolecense, and so, a few quotes from The Crow, a reiteration that I am not goth or in love with violence, and thanks to the movie for taking me back to a simpler time.

"Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children."
"Halloween ain't till manyana..."
"Victims, aren't we all."
"You got me dead bang."
"Fire it up."
"There ain't no coming back, this is the really real world."

To the land of dreamy men...

2011-04-09T11:00:00.000-07:00

Please indulge me in a digression-- I have been trying to focus on things of substance, fiction that changes my understanding of things, places that make me happy, etc. But, the time has come to return to one of my favorite subjects... dreamy men. Ah yes, I have too long abandoned Ryan Buell, Ben Barnes, Joseph Gordon Levitt, and friends, but a recent trip to a movie theater reminded me that it was long past time to add a new name to my list: James McAvoy.

The ironic thing is that I can't think of any of his movies off the top of my head that I have loved, save for Penelope and The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (and he is a fawn in that, goat legs automatically rendering anyone as NOT dreamy). I've seen a lot. Been OK with a few. Loved less... until now I hope, because this summer McAvoy takes on the role of one of my all-time favorite characters ever. Are you ready to see my geek? Well here it is, six words that give me chills: James McAvoy as Professor Charles Xavier. Seriously, I am giddy with anticipation.

I am also giddy with lack of sleep. I am trying so hard to wrap up a few loose ends on Book #2. I want to start talking about , sharing it, seriously shopping it, and, most importantly, put it to bed so I can work on Book #3. The publication of Max and Menna showed me, quite wonderfully, that maybe a future as a professional writer is on the horizon. Now I just need the present to give me time to make it happen :)

Something Wicked This Way Comes...

2011-04-05T16:11:00.000-07:00

I am late to the party again, but for you few and faithful readers, I return to a theme I've expressed before. I LOVE it when a piece of fiction, be it a book or a movie, can make me see something in a new way, or understand something I didn't understand before. It is with this in mind that this week, nearly 15 years late, I must sing the praises of Wicked.

If you somehow have managed to have not heard of this book, it is both a retelling of the Wizard of Oz from the perspective of the Wicked Witch of the West (or Elphaba as she is called) AND a prequel to the first book in Baum's series. With steely prose, author Greg Maguire constructs for us a main character that you love to hate and cannot help but understand, and a very different picture of the beloved Dorothy as hapless and tragic.

So why am I talking about it now, when so many of you know it and have probably read it already? Because despite some things in the book that irritated me (i.e. an extremely rushed ending), it accomplished what I think should be one of the primary goals of art-- it changed my perspective. It made me rethink and evaluate. It called into play that we are only ever hearing one side of a story. Fiction should open our minds, and this book definately reminded me of that.

If you've read Max and Menna, you know how much I enjoy to tell a tale from all angles. Consequently, the theme of the reader only ever seeing one side of the story is one I play upon extensively in my next novel. Stay tuned...

The free book giveaway

2011-04-04T05:30:00.000-07:00

So I have to go to the post office tomorrow and decided that this is a very fortuitous time to give away a book! So, for those of you who are making the jump from Facebook to here, or from elsewhere in the blog world, become a follower by the end of the day today (Monday, April 4) and maybe win a book! Here's how it works:

1. Click follow and become a follower
2. Post a comment and say hi, tell me about yourself, etc.
3. Feel welcome! I'm glad to have you here.
4. Tonight I will put all the names in a hat and select a winner. I will respond to the winner comment!
5. The winner will email my secure email address by tomorrow morning
6. On my way to the train station tomorrow, I will drop a book in the mail to you.

Make sense?

And, if you are new here, thank you for stopping by. If you want to know more about my book, and what people think, stop by Amazon.

A new review for Max and Menna

2011-03-28T14:48:00.000-07:00

OK, so this is neither here nor there, but a few weeks back I got a review from ForeWord reviews that I have been meaning to share. I normally keep these things to snippits, but this one makes me very, very happy. I'm including a paragraph below.

"The dialogue, particularly in scenes between Menna and Nick, sparkles. Kelley has managed to keep a young, idealistic (and sometimes anxious) tone in her characters' voices, which saves Max and Menna from seeming old hat. As a first novel, Max and Menna is very fine. As James Wood says, “Our memories are aesthetically untalented.” But Kelley shows, with ease, that the freshness of those early days playing in the woods can be reclaimed at any time—that we can relive, through her characters, the big- hearted hopes and dreams we all once had, a long time ago."

Visit "http://www.forewordreviews.com/reviews/max-and-menna/" for the whole review!

I am (still) 25 pages from the end of Wicked... must.finish.reading. It sooo good. How have I not read this before?

Where everybody knows my name...

2011-03-24T13:44:00.000-07:00

So I must admit, I’ve been something of a sad girl lately. Constantly thinking that I am without limits and biting off more than I can chew has backfired fiercely. Months and months of constant on the run equals one tired Shauna. Beyond tired… just fried, and with being tired, and fried, and overly busy comes sad girl.

But where is a sad girl to go when the pressures of the world get to me? Where everyone knows my name, of course!

You’ve all seen it—I frequently call out awesome specials at Joe Squared in my blog (mmmmm… brisket potato skins), but the other night I was over there and was so struck by how much I love that place. Seriously. I love it there—Joe’s is my happy place. I visited Tuesday night in the midst of major drama, turmoil, stress, and exhaustion. I went begrudgingly, but left in a happier mood, because it is that kind of place.

We all have a place like that, don’t we? I hope so… doesn’t have to be a bar or a restaurant, but that place that just makes you instantly happy?

Just for clarification sake (before you all start to worry), the bar aspect is actually inconsequential to my love of Joe’s Squared…really. Here is what is very consequential: when I walk in, people smile. Now I am sure they have a million regulars, but there is something about messy-haired Okan (Baltimore’s best bartender) saying “what’s up sweetie?” or the always nice and smiling David telling me I am a peach, or Jen saying “hey lady”.

Flash back. Ninth grade. First day of high school and there I was, the overweight girl with troubled skin, braces, flat hair, and an ALF tee-shirt. My brother (a Senior then) pulled my chair out from under me in the cafeteria and I fell on my butt in front of everyone. At the time, I stood up and took a bow despite being totally mortified. I’m not sure how (and if) I got over the embarrassment, but I think Joe’s has something to do with it.

Joe’s owner Joe Edwardsen is not only a brilliant cheff, but also one of the most truly decent, kind-hearted people I’ve ever known, and I say that despite him still not having read Max and Menna. Joe’s makes you feel welcome, and the laid back atmosphere makes you feel relaxed. There is this staff of people who know what wine to pour without being asked, who ask me how my day was and tell me about theirs. Of course I love it there!! And I could (and probably have) fallen on my butt there before, and people smirk, help me up, and we laugh together. Thank you Joe’s for helping me get over high school trauma and finally, finally feel like a cool kid… at least within your walls.

So people, if you don’t have a Joe’s, you should get one. If you’re in Baltimore, I’ll happily offer you use of my happy place!

Big Love for Big Love

2011-03-23T05:42:00.000-07:00

I finally had the opportunity a few days ago to watch the series finale of Big Love on HBO.

To fill those of you unfamiliar in, Big Love is a show about poligamy, and it is quietly controversial. I don't remember hearing about any huge outcries over its introduction, for sure, but the subject matter is controversial. While I (clearly) do not endorse poligamy, and would certainly never make the choice for myself, what I appreciated so much about this show is how, at the end of five seasons, I feel like I understood, at least the version of polygamy portrayed here.

And I LOVE that. I LOVE it when a work of fiction gives me a glimpse into something that is elsewise so removed from my life and seems so foreign, even something that makes me uncomfortable or causes an intensely negative initial reaction, and make me understand. This is not to say that I feel that polygamy should be tolerated in cases where young girls are married to men three and four times their age to have chidlren. Just felt I needed a disclaimer, in case it seems that I am heralding wide acceptance of the entire practice of polygamy, because I am not.

But, for the sake of clarity, here is what I loved about the show. HBO has, yet again, proven that through excellent writing, television is high art. Case in point, the character of Margene. She begins this show as a timid, young, immature, and lost soul. Her mother is a neglectful alcoholic, she has no father, and is clearly teeming with a desire for acceptance and love. Throughout five seasons, the change in her is so skillfull, and so subtle. With a combination of masterful acting by Ginnifer Goodwin and awesome writing, Margene transforms into one of the show's strongest, and most reliable, interesting characters. This is amazing writing, and I for one am floored and massively impressed by it.

Let anyone who ever said you can't learn on televesion watch some HBO or Showtime. I am convinced that watching the series on these channels will help me be a better writer, because it is some of the best that exists in our time.

A year in review...

2011-03-22T15:20:00.000-07:00

I’m taking a page from my fellow Lucky Press author Sarah Martin Byrd (wonderful lady that she is) and musing back over last year to this. I must say, what a violent difference a year can make. I mean, I have the same job, but from car to house to family, very little else has stayed the same.

Clearly, there have been the bad changes, bad being the biggest understatement I can think of. I lost my mom, and therefore everything else just feels a little bit empty.

I turned 30 and lost my youth J. I know that is an exaggeration, but it really did feel like a fundamental change.

And then there is my writing. A year ago, publication of Max and Menna was this nebulous concept that made me smile but still seemed virtually impossible. And now… now it is a book. A real book that I can hold in my hands, and something that makes me feel more and more every day that my voice is relevant, that I am a “real writer,” and that maybe there is a future here.

Which is why I am very excited to announce (drum-roll please) that Max and Menna is a finalist in the Foreword Book of the Year Awards, Young Adult fiction category. To those of you, like me, who have always thought it hokey when Oscar nominees say “it’s an honor just to be nominated,” let me assure you, it isn’t hokey. Just to be a finalist, combined with lots of great reviews (and thanks to all of you that contributed), have made me feel more and more like a “real writer.”

My publisher Janice should change her business cards to read “I make it happen.” Because she helped make it happen for me, and has introduced something so good in my life that it has helped to overshadow a very tough, transitional year. I seriously owe her big!

Violent Viral Plague Stories-- My Guilty Pleasure!

2011-02-16T17:28:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This is a totally self-indulgent blog post, but fear not, I want you to indulge as well! I am ELATED! I am giddy, and giggly, and ecstatic. Why? Because my guilty pleasure has been elevated to high art.

Because I do have so many, I must clarify—this guilty pleasure is zombies! Though (thanks to Netflix’s recommendations algorithms) I am expanding to Violent Viral Plague Stories! For those of you unfamiliar, here is the difference:·

Zombies are re-animated corpses infected by something. They can be fast. They can be slow. But they are, without argument, the living dead. Think Dawn of the Dead.
“Violent Viral Plague Stories” are people out of their minds, hungry for flesh or death or both! The difference is that these people aren’t necessarily dead—though they may be. Think 28 Days Later. Not dead, still freaky.

So, all zombies are violent viral plague victims, but not all violent viral plague victims are zombies. OK?

Regardless of the type of violent viral plague, I LOVE these stories, but have always thought of them as a guilty pleasure. Excluding Danny Boyle films, which are beautifully made and written, the point of these films is usually straight up carnage. And yes, yes, yes, I hear you zombie lovers screaming! Romero began the zombie genre as a comment on consumerism in the U.S. BUT, in terms of the themes of the movies, you gotta admit—carnage.

Until World War Z by Max Brooks. Enter high art.

Yes, I am late to the game. The book has been out for quite a while, but thanks to my wonderful friend Wade, it finally worked its way into my hands. And I am having a hard time putting it down. Its finals week. I have a test. I have a paper. I have two conferences to prep for. My dog wants attention. My stomach is growling. My kitchen sink is full… and I just want to read about zombies.

But here is what is different- this is truly a zombie book about human nature, political interactions, the will to live, to survive. Dehumanization. Atomic warfare. This book is actually step by step examining the social, political, economic, and personal impacts of a zombie apocalypse. And beyond that, it is quite easy to see the links that can be drawn between this situation and MANY situations. The book is about zombies, but the book isn’t just about zombies. It’s about human nature and the society in which we live.

Stay tuned. I am halfway through and I am hoping the book carries me through, but I do encourage everyone to read it! Just not before bed… I have been having the weirdest dreams and yes (at the age of 30) sleeping with the lights on. Even more so than Paranormal State, and that is saying something!

This is actually something I have toyed with in my own writing-- how do you take a genre I love (horror) but create something powerful and profound? Can it be done? Other than World War Z, have you guys seen it done?

Clearly, Max and Menna-- not horror... and its not something I want to write full time, but seeing it done so masterfully has my mind a-working!

But, because of this, I am anxious to know of your giddiness… what are your guilty pleasures, and who is raising them from “brain candy” to art?

Ode to my couch!

2011-02-15T07:10:00.000-08:00

So I haven't blogged in six weeks, I know. I have been SLAMMED! I have a really hard time admitting my own limits, but work, travel for work, full time school, one book to promote, and one to finish writing means no free time for Shauna.

Thus, I did something brilliant! I took two days off for no real reason. Actually, the reason was a 15 page paper due next week, and I am almost done, but two days off has allowed me to:

1. Clean up my room
2. Clean the kitchen
3. Tell the landlord about broken stuff
4. Fill out my FAFSA
5. Pay some old parking tickets that have been waiting
6. Watch and return my Netflix movies
7. Make doctor's apointments and find a dentist
8. Secure renters insurance
9. WRITE

When you lack free time and buy yourself some, the productivity is amazing, but something else is even better.

...Nothing...

I have had time to sit on my couch, watch television, and do little else. And I KNOW it sounds lazy, but when you don't ever get to do nothing, it is a delightful when the opportunity presents itself.

So this is an ode to my couch. It's a leather chaise, covered with a fleece blanket and a bunch of pillows. And I love it. At this point in time, I would consider marrying it if possible. :) The amazing part of it all is being able to sit still knowing that I have written. I have worked on the book...

This is certainly not the most interesting things I've ever had to say, for sure, but I am warming up to a review of a truly amazing book I am almost finished with.

A final 2010 blog

2010-12-28T17:57:00.000-08:00

The year is winding to a close, and I don't know if I have ever been so conflicted about a New Years Eve! This has truly been one of the worst and best years ever. I fulfilled a lifelong dream of publishing a novel, and I did it before 30. I completed half of my master's degree, and found some amazing new friends. Under other circumstances, it would be the best year.

But the circumstances are what they are. I lost my mother, my very best friend, this year, and that loss has and will continue to color my perspective for a long time to come. But, I am aiming to be the kind of person she was-- it is the number 1 goal I have for 2011: be more like my mom. And my mom lived a life of faith and hope-- though she would never use the words herself, much of her attitude can be summed up with the following phrase: Nolite de bastardes non carbundorum. Or, in English, don't let the bastards get you down.

So I resolve to live this next year with hope, and as much joy as I can find... and to live what I preach! In that vein, I am adding my voice to the discourse about a new novel, which has some pretty interesting parallels to Max and Menna.

The novel, Guardian Spirit, is another Lucky Press novel. The book published a few months prior to my book and is also by a first time author, the very sweet and very intriguing Sarah Martin Byrd. I give the book a very solid four stars (and keep in mind that my list of 5 star books numbers less than 50 of the 1000+ novels I have read in my day).

Guardian Spirit takes you deep into the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains, and holds you there in a web of intrigue, and magic. The novel, telling the story of Millie and her children Sammie and Sadie as they run from a horrifically abusive husband, weaves in elements of the fantastical to build suspense and take the edge off of the visceral, violent tale.

From shortly after page 1, readers will be enthralled by the plight of Millie and her kids as they hide out in an old cabin, full of memories, and hope that their new life will stick. Within the story, Byrd masterfully entwines Native American magic with the steely reserve of a woman protecting her children, and creates a narrative that will have readers cheering, and hurriedly turning pages.

Stylistically, the book had a few distracting moments for me, though these were all a matter of personal preference. I wished for a first person book so I could get more in Sadie's head, but that is my own nosey personality and not a fault with the writing at all. I found this to be an engrossing, exciting read, and would highly recommend it to others.

Thanks to Sarah for letting us in on this great adventure.

And also, an overdue thanks to the Joe Squared team, who managed to combine pizza, oysters, champagne, and lots of good people on my birthday. They covered all of the important bases! For you Baltimore readers, mark my words: get there before Friday for the devil's pizza. Of every endorsement I have ever made, I stand by this one the most strongly. This is the BEST pizza you will ever eat!!

On being 30

2010-12-27T15:01:00.000-08:00

And the winner is... Charlanne... of my two contest entrants (thanks to you both) her name came out of the fishbowl. Char-- send me your address on Facebook and I will get a book in the mail to you!

I am a few days late on this, I know, but I am sure everyone can emphatize with nutty schedules around the holidays. Rolled up into all of this, I also had a very momentous birthday. Yes, boys and girls, I have reached a milestone. I am 30.

Thirty fits me, I think. My 20's always felt a bit too small, like the entire decade was one of trying to tie a shoe that pinched my toes. I am sad, a bit, to see it go, but also exhilerated with thoughts of what shall come. And so, I will share with you all a bit of a poem/ fragment/ nonsensical rambling that I put together.

Things I will try to do differently in my 30's....

Less cigarettes
Less liquor
Less letting my sweet tooth win
Less broken hearts
Less melodrama when the broken hearts occur (because broken hearts are a vital part of adulthood)
Less anxiety
Less unrealistic expectations of myself

More of being glad for knowing who I am (because it took a long, long time to get there)
More books with my name on the cover
More happy tears to counter-balance the sad ones
More of trying to be the kind of woman my mother was
More being proud of the kind of woman I am

Less worrying when people meet me and think I am hard
More of getting to know people so they see I am not

Less feeling guilty for other people's kindness
More of giving presents for no real reason

Less lonely friday nights
More of being glad every single day for the amazing friends and family that I have.

Smiles, everyone. I hope your holidays are going well.

Seriously... one taker?

2010-12-14T15:02:00.000-08:00

Hey all,

So, I am a few days late on my leader board, but that is because up until yesterday there WAS no leaderboard. And today it is very short. "Charlanne" <--That is the leaderboard. Come on people, free stuff! And all you have to do for a chance at free stuff is go to Amazon, Goodreads, Facebook, or your blog, and tell the internet about a writer who's book inspired you. OR if you're new here, click "follow" in the upper right hand corner. Then, whether you reviewed a book or are a new following, post a comment and tell us about it. Do that between now and midnight on December 15, and you may win a FREE hardback copy of Max and Menna.

I am very much in earnest when I say that as readers you shouldn't underestimate the influence you have. There are some amazing communities online that are here solely to help readers find awesome stuff to read, and you should add your voice! Never before in the history of mankind have we had this option, and it really is exciting.

And since its dinner time, you should all know that the most amazing dinner you could seek out on this cold, blustery tuesday, is the apple and venison soup on special at Joe Squared. No, I get no kick back, thanks, or retribution at all from Joe for constantly recommending the restaurant. But seroiusly, the specials blow me away every week and I have to tell SOMEONE...

Holy Jolly FREE Stuff on my Blog!

2010-12-03T09:36:00.000-08:00

Ladies and Gentleman, Last Night= Momentous Occasion! Shauna Kelley's FIRST public speaking engagement as a published author. And it wasn't as terrifying as I thought. I only had to talk for five or ten minutes, so I really had to focus on the book (fun to talk about) instead of me (awkward to talk about... and listen to me talking about). Sold a few books, met a few authors, and all in all enjoyed it immensely.

What I did learn (building on something that I've noticed these past few weeks while reading the blogs of my fellow authors) is that I don't have schwag! And by schwag, I mean cool free stuff to get people excited to READ!

So, I am jumping on the bandwagon and playing copycat to some of my esteemed fellow writers by joining something I am passionate about (getting readers to share their thoughts) and something I am lacking in (stuff to giveaway).

Thus, the first Shauna Kelley Blog Contest.

Here's how you enter:

Between now and December 15, post a review of a book that inspired you on Amazon, your own blog, or GoodReads. Then, comment here (Not as a reply to the Facebook notification) with a link to your review. For every review, your name goes in the fishbowl once. But there are rules: To qualify, though, I am talking a review of at least 3-4 sentences about how the book inspired you. "I liked it, it was good" won't gain you entrance into the fishbowl. And you are certainly welcome (and encouraged always) to review Max and Menna, but the point of this contest is not to garner me reviews. It is to encourage everyone to take their love of books viral!

Become a new Shauna Kelley Blog Follower (and comment to let me know about it) and your name goes in the fishbowl once.

On December 15, I will pull a name out of the fishbowl, and that person wins a signed hardcopy of Max and Menna.

For those of you who already own Max and Menna, you're probably thinking "so what, I already own that book..." But Christmas is coming. You could give it away for Christmas! Or donate it to a library! Or use it to prop up that shaky dining room table!

And even if its something you've already got, everyone likes winning, right?

On December 11 I will post a stats update, but I am tracking through comments left on this blog ONLY so make sure you comment and let me know you're in the running... Ready, Set, Go!

Being a new author necessitates all manner of begging

2010-11-28T05:22:00.000-08:00

I have had the laziest of weekends! Thursday was crazed, as any holiday is to someone with a family as big as mine! But, since then, I have done little else but loaf around, eat leftovers, dabble in some writing, watch movies, and sleep. Such a lazy long weekend was very long overdue.

But, alas, I am up early this morning working on book stuff. For those of you unfamiliar, making a book (particularly your first) successful is a ton of work! "Success" in this case really comes down to building name recognition for myself outside of those who already know my name. That way, when book #2 comes out, you're starting from a better position to get that one out... and so on until one day, I am a well-known, professional writer and have the amazing opportunity to focus more on what I love.

Nonetheless, as a new author of one book who's only true following at the moment is friends and family, I must resort to all manner of begging, compliment fishing, and general egregious ego boosting! It's an odd feeling and activity for me.

Here's the interesting part of the social media age-- your words are more important than the creator of any product. Think about it-- if you're buying a new product is it the product description that sells you, or the customer feedback? This is especially true of books. In particular Amazon reviews, but also posts on Facebook, blog comments, and even endorsements to friends, carry an amazing amount of weight and are instrumental in the success of a book.

I have a sudden new appreciation for authors working today who live and die by those reviews. There are hundreds if not thousands of compatriates out there in exactly the same boat I am in-- with a work they are passionate about trying to create a name for themselves. But you are one title, one voice in a sea of billions and billions of other voices trying really hard to be heard. It's a fulfilling, wonderful, and exhausting pursuit!

Since I've been poking around figuring out venues for promoting my book, I've noticed how crucial this is to all authors. And so, this is my post to encourage all of you to review books! For all of you avid readers, when you read something that moves you, post a review to Amazon. Mention it on Facebook. Blog about it. Your voice is crucial to a community of authors, and to readers. Your reviews will help readers distinguish which books will move them.

Of course, reviews of my work are always welcome, but I promise you that I encourage this on more of a global scale. The internet has given us all a voice, and I think its critical to the advancement of our art that we use it!

Let's make our OWN list of the top stories of all time!

2010-11-21T19:38:00.000-08:00

So, there is a note travelling through Facebook claiming that the BBC believes that the average person will only have read 6 books off a list of 100 very important books. Most of my friends and I scored at least 15, so I guess we’re doubly as well-read as the BBC claims we should be.

However, I have to say, I was very confused by some of the books on the list. Now, I am not doubting the merit of any of the books, particularly given that most of those that I raised an eyebrow to were among the nearly 70 I hadn’t read, but still…. I am uncomfortable with Bridget Jones’ Diary following the Color Purple.

Thus, since you all know how I love to solicit feedback and talk about the great books, I want to collaborate with you all on our own list of the 100 most important or relevant or exciting books/short stories/plays of all time.

Now, since this is my blog, I am going to be a tyrant and contribute heavily to the start of this endeavor—but please add as you see fit! Here we go, in no particular order. I am trying to restrict it to one book per author for the sake of fairness. Three or four millennia is a lot of fodder for picking a list!

King Lear—William Shakespeare
A Prayer for Owen Meany—John Irving
To Kill a Mockingbird—Harper Lee
The Dead—James Joyce
Native Son—Richard Wright
Ender’s Game—Orson Scott Card
The Hobbit—JRR Tolkein
Dune- Frank Herbert
Roots—Alex Haley
1984- George Orwell
The Hunchback of Notre Dame—Victor Hugo
Indian Killer—Sherman Alexie
The Handmaid’s Tale—Margaret Atwood
It- Stephen King
The Turn of the Screw—Henry James
A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich-- Alexander Solzhenitsyn
The Once and Future King—TH White
Emma—Jane Austen
Little Women—Louisa May Alcott
All the Kings Men—Robert Penn Warren
Cry the Beloved Country—Alan Patton
Love in the Time of Cholera—Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Odyssey—Homer
Catcher in the Rye—JD Salinger
The Great Gatsby—F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe—CS Lewis
The Lovely Bones—Alice Seabold
The Glass Castle—Jeanette Walls
Lord of the Flies—William Golding
On the Road—Jack Kerouac
One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest—Ken Kesey
The Aeneid—Virgil
Beowulf
Dracula—Bram Stoker
The Color Purple—Alice Walker
Beloved—Toni Morrison
Ceremony—Leslie Marmon Silko
Of Mice and Men—John Steinback
Fahrenheit 451—Ray Bradbury
Things Fall Apart-- Chinua Achebe

So what else shall I add?

Think about it, and think about trying the lamb, eggplant skins at Joe Squared this week. That place is truly my muse!

Take off!

2010-11-14T19:00:00.000-08:00

This has been an eventful couple of days, culminating with the event we've been planning since a few months after work on publishing Max and Menna began: the launch party.

For those of you who don't know, my big Irish family has instilled in me the firm belief that big events are not complete until there has been a big celebration... and we had quite a celebration. Friday evening 100 of my closest friends and family gathered in a great venue in Baltimore City for amazing food (courtesy of my very good friends at Joe Squared), drinks, music, company, and books.

Unfortunately, but in true Shauna Kelley style, I managed to sprain by knee on Thursday evening (literally by standing up from a seated position) and did the event on crutches. This might not have been SO bad, except for I most definitely did not have a dress cut for being hunched over, and I was in a lot of pain. It was a bit frustrating to spend so much time preparing for this, and then almost the entire event hobbling around and trying not to grimace.

But the people in your life make it all worth it, right? Despite hurting and being VERY loopy from the medication I was taking for the pain, my friends and family helped make this a banner evening. I signed over 80 books, which was phenomenal, and got to see people I hadn't seen in years. My core group of college friends all assembled-- 15 of us-- for the first time since probably 2002.

Importantly, the evening finally made this sink in: I have a book! Now that I see it in the hands of my friends and family, now that I know at this very moment someone might be reading it, I feel like a real author (I know, recurring theme).

Rather than continuing to blab on about the event and my feelings, I will add some photos and let pictures tell the story of one of the best nights of my life. And again, thanks to EVERYONE who came out, I love you all and I am sorry I was loopy and busy and didn't get to spend enough time with everyone.

Tricks, treats, and I AM A PUBLISHED AUTHOR!!

2010-11-01T14:44:00.000-07:00

Today, I am officially an author! As of today, Monday November 1, I now have a published novel on the market, on Amazon, ready to go! And, according to the sales ranking, Max and Menna is not doing half bad.

Now, for those of you unfamiliar, you may look at Amazon.com and see that my sales rank is upwards of 300,000 and think “that’s not bad??” But no, it isn’t! Keep in mind that 300,000 is out of 8,000,000, which means that I am in the top 5% of books being sold on Amazon right now.

I had an odd memory pop into my head yesterday, that ties well to this. I was out taking my nephew trick-or-treating and one of my parent’s neighbors opened the door and froze. She then told me sister and I that she was trying to collect herself, because she had this really strong memory of when we moved in and our first year trick-or-treating. It was so odd to her to see the two of us with my nephew in comparison.

I remember that Halloween well. I was ten and dressed up like Louisa May Alcott. I’m not kidding. In actuality, I donned one of my mom’s old homecoming dresses, which was blue lace, dragged the ground when I walked, and actually in no way resembled the garb Louis May Alcott may in fact have worn when writing Little Women. But if my parents needed evidence of what my chosen vocation would be, that probably provided it.

Even at age 10, I was mystified by the world of books and the way they crawl inside you as you crawl inside them. And so, I want to commemorate this rather exciting day in my life with an homage to a book that crawled so deep inside of me that I have not yet (nor do I want to) shaken the feeling it left me with. This may be my second homage, but if it is, I cannot think of a more deserving title.

Reservation Blues by Sherman Alexie is the fodder for these accolades. If any of you have not yet read Alexie, I encourage you to at this very moment stop reading this and go to Amazon to buy Indian Killer, Reservation Blues, and Flight at the very least.

Reservation Blues by far holds one of the most startling moments I have ever experienced in literature. It happens near the end of the book and since I am encouraging you all to read it (READ IT READ IT), I won’t ruin it. But there is a scene in this book that left me, mouth gaping, appalled and awe-struck by Alexie’s ability to create something so poignant and so powerful merely in words.

It’s a skill I hope to one day emulate with more practice!

And so, I sign off from my first blog entry as “officially” a published writer. I wish you all well, and if and when you read Max and Menna (currently available for sale on Amazon.com J) please share your thoughts. I love hearing people’s reactions, regardless of whether they are good or bad!

Famous Blue Raincoat

2010-10-23T23:35:00.000-07:00

I have a Leonard Cohen song stuck in my head... actually a cover of it. For those of you who know Jennifer Warnes only as the chick who had the time of her life in that Dirty Dancing song, you are missing out. Check out her album Famous Blue Raincoat which includes covers of almost all of my favorite Cohen songs (just missing Suzanne).

Why this song? Because it is 2:39 a.m., and my alarm clock is set for 4:30 so I can get up and head (back) to the airport (again) for another work trip. The song begins with a classic line "It's four in the morning, the end of December, I'm writing you now just to see if you're better."

So, while it is only two in the morning at the end of October, I go back to this song. I am not a music fanatic by any stretch. I have a ton of stuff I love, but being that I am surrounded by friends who are musicians, I truly understand that my musical understanding and taste only scratches the surface. Songs aren't like books to me-- they don't move me-- with a few notable exceptions.

Famous Blue Raincoat is one of those exceptions, and in this moment, that song so perfectly represents my mood. I am listless, and tired, and thinking about the past.

The song is sort of a letter to music, where Lady #1 is writing to Unnamed Dude after he moved away to build his house "deep in the desert" following some alluded to tragic incident. Throughout the song, Lady #1 croons that "Jane came by with a lock of your hair. She said that you gave it to her. That night that you planned to go free."

And then, the penetrating question "did you ever go free?"

In so many ways, the song is about a group of people who's plans are all destroyed by...life...

This brings up a question I have been mulling over as of late after lots of conversations with lots of friends who are struggling to find a balance between the life they have and they life they want (which we all are). For us twenty-something people (and yes, I can still claim that for two more months!) sometimes the biggest battle is understanding that life you want looks like.

But still, Famous Blue Raincoat is a song about regret, and that is a trap I am trying to avoid tonight. This is what I am learning/have learned about life: it never looks like what you think it will. So many of us, and I feel like women in my age group in particular, have this image in our head of where you are "supposed to be" at twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, etc. It is actually rather fragmented. We vacilate between Sex and the City and Leave it to Beaver.

The problem is, no one's life looks like that.

And that is A-OK! I always had this image of my first book being published while I lived in a loft in Greenwich Village and lived the Carrie Bradshaw flitting existence (but I TOTALLY end up with my Aiden because Mr. Big just sucks). But here I am living in my tiny little rowhouse in Baltimore, going to work every day, spending weekends on school.

But, dude, my life is pretty good, no? I am overcoming the loss of my mom, and that is a huge shadow over everything. It is, nonetheless, a shadow that will fade somewhat, and I will figure out how to incorporate what doesn't fade into who I am in some productive fashion. Otherwise, I have an amazing job, great friends, prospects and potential through the roof. And, other than being exhausted and always a bit too stressed and busy, I am typically a pretty happy, content person. For now.

So why the song about regret, about life failing you so miserably?

Because its now three in the morning the end of October. No good comes of me writing at this hour, and even less so when I share it with the world!

I get to come back on Monday. Max and Menna is at the printer, and I will have copies in my hot little hands in about 3 weeks.

I am actually rather hoping for a night at Joe Squared next week-- haven't had much time to hang out with my favorite bartender recently, and this week's specials look amazing. (I am also hungry at 3 a.m. and thinking with my stomach).

For now, I'm going to try for another hour and a half of sleep, and then go to the airport. Need to wrap up all of my work tomorrow before 9 p.m. Sunday is Paranormal State night.

I hope all of you are sleeping better than I am at this moment in time!

California Dreaming

2010-10-20T03:43:00.000-07:00

So yes, it has been nearly a month since I last blogged. But I have good reasons!

I just moved. My house is a maze of boxes. Every time I look at the computer and think about writing something, I remind myself that it would be far more fruitful in the near term to unpack.
With school, work, and moving, the moments I have to glance at the computer are limited.
Max and Menna comes out in two weeks. I am trying to spend whatever free time I do have catching up on promotions, and generally doing cartwheels of excitement.
I am travelling soooo much.

The problem is that not blogging isn't simply not blogging. Its indicative of a larger problem-- I have written maybe two pages in the last two months. Not only does this contribute to my general anxiety, since writing is a release, but it is also a piss poor way to approach becoming a full-time writer.

So, that is it. I need to recharge. I need to go somewhere new and see something beautiful-- that always gets the juices flowing. A high school classmate seems to be on a whirlwind tour of the world. Just looking at the pictures he is posting from exoctic locations like South Africa and UAE make me salivate. I want to go there. I want to see that in person. I want to be inspired (but I promise not to write Eat, Pray, Love II-- I don't want to be inspired and write about me).

Here is what I am thinking: When I got back from my Washington/Oregon/California trip in May, I was so psyched. I wrote like crazy. It was the perfect trip-- some city, some rural, lots of spectacle.

See, I am an anglophile and a bit of a snob about it. When I was in Ireland I was young and stupid and thought "nothing can be more beautiful than this" and it IS truly one of the most beautiful places on the planet; however, Oregon showed me that there are things in my own backyard that are that beautiful... things I haven't seen.

In January, I am cashing in my airline/hotel/credit card points and going somewhere new. I see the irony in this-- pointing to travel as a reason I am not writing, but for those of you who don't travel for work, let me assure you of this: when you travel for work you go lots of places, but you seldom see anything. This is why none of you should be offended when I say "I'm here" and you say "oh, I live there-- lets hang out." I usually get about 8 hours in a 24 hour span off, and I sleep and work out.

My leaning is towards cashing those points in on a trip to Jaimaica, but the likelihood is that this may turn out to be a lone vacation. January is not typically the time most people take off to travel. I am not sure Jaimaica is the kind of place I want to go alone. Jaimaica is the kind of place I want to go with one of the dreamy men...

Thus I thought perhaps I would visit one of the 21 U.S. states I have not yet been to. But I don't know where to go! I've eliminated several based on climate (I am NOT going colder), availability of flights, and availability of hotels within my point range. What I have is the list below. Tell me, dear readers, where to go on this list. Where can I find something beautiful near a kick ass city with a great restaurant scene. Where can I go to be inspired and jump start work on my now-stalled second novel?

Here are my options, unless Ryan Buell, Joseph Gordon Levitt, or Ben Barnes are free for a Jaimaica trip!

Alabama
Arizona
Arkansas
Colorado
Indiania
Kansas
Mississippi
New Mexico
Oklahoma
Utah

Sentimental Nostalgia

2010-09-26T18:39:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about Thomas Wolfe. Well, not necessarily about him personally, but about a short phrase that has entered our vernacular, which Mr. Wolfe likely could never have anticipated.

You Can't Go Home Again was actually published after his death. And, actually, I don't think that is what he inteded for the novel to be called. But, yet, the phrase is probably used nearly as often in our daily lives as "a rose by any other name..." Five or six words that, in both cases, summarize volumes.

Wolfe wrote a lot about change, and I think this fortuitious title means something different to many of us. To me, during a particularly reflective time, it has me wondering if it is every possible to recapture things as they were when you were young.

OK, OK, some of you may be reading this and thinking "dude, you're 29, stop being fatalistic." But I don't mean young chronologically. Yes, I am very young in that regard. However, I feel that I have aged a great deal in the last half a decade, and I often wonder if I will ever be able to again see things as I did before.

This has all been brought on by my current business trip, which has brought me to a too-warm hotel room that is a little too close to Downtown Disney. I just walked through, seeing parents with children and couples in love. I remember being here as a child, remember how beautiful and electric it felt. The Magical Kingdown truly was magical, but as an adult, I see an empire spun of stereotypes and discriminatory practices. When did I lose the fun??

The flip side of this takes me back to Max and Menna. In the book, the title characters recall their lives as children and often point out how they are incapable of remembering this without interjecting the adult perspective. They often muse over whether they noticed being dirty, or simply cannot retell the event without mentioning it since logic promises they were, etc.

But, I think our memories work the other way. I remember Disney World when I was nine being amazing. I remember fireworks clearly, and holding my mom's hand in line for the teacups. I remember kissing Mickey on the cheek and laughing giddily on some roller coaster. Those memories are vivid and easy. I have to think really, really hard to remember that it was oppressively hot that day and my shorts kept sticking to me. I can recall lines being long, and riding Small World over and over because it had AC (despite the fact that it smelled a little bit like vomit). And I remember crying because I was too short to ride anything, but that, too, I have to dig for.

Realizing this at first depressed me. It made me think that I can't ever really "go back" to seeing things so idealistically because I never did in the first place. I filtered out the stuff that didn't fit in with that view.

This isn't depressing, though. It's sort of promising-- I think it is far more likely, and far closer at hand to think that I will perhaps regain the ability to experience everything, and filter out the negative than it is to hope for an entirely new outlook on life after everything I've experienced.

And if I didn't experience the hot days, long lines, and sticky clothes, would the memory of my mom's face staring up at the fireworks be as powerful to me as it is?

Anyway, just some musings after too many days on the road. Tomorrow night, after nearly a week, I finally get to sleep in my own bed. Oh, and eat the special skins from Joe Squared-- they have crawfish. It is a little mean to put those on a weekly special when I am gone half the week, but I will forgive.

Something of a rant in defense of Ryan

2010-09-14T14:13:00.000-07:00

OK, so I try very hard to steer clear of political and/or religious discourse in a public forum. I mean, I am a novelist-- who cares what my political leanings are, right? I am trying really hard just to get people to care that I am a novelist. My beliefs are mine, and I don’t see the need to force them on others. I am sure people who‘s beliefs are opposite of mine feel them just as passionately and often have just as many salient points to their arguments. But, today, I am irritated.

Ryan Buell, near the top of my dreamy men list, apparently admits in his forthcoming book that he is bisexual. This is according to Perez Hilton thus far, so I will have to wait until my copy arrives to verify. Regardless, for me, this changes nothing. He is bi, so clearly there is still opportunity for me to sweep the man off his feet, right? ;0)

However, I am totally appalled by how Twitter and the rest of the interwebs are going crazy over this. Buell is Catholic, and his faith forms the cornerstone of some of his work with the paranormal. Now, one would think that might be enough to draw some annoyance from the Church, but apparently his bisexuality crosses a line. Some meanie on Twitter told him that he should be excommunicated, and was zealous enough to post a link so he could go figure out what that meant.

Really?

With each passing day I realize two things more and more: 1. I miss my mom, and 2. I learned so much from her. She wasn’t a self-professed liberal. She actually would probably be annoyed if I called her that. What she was, however, was tolerant. My mother saw the best in everyone ALWAYS, sometimes when they truly did not deserve it. She didn’t so much care how people lived their lives, as long as they didn’t hurt anyone else in the process. She was so full of faith—I am still, to this day, amazed by how she managed to have so much faith in the midst of all of the pain and turmoil she went through—but she always used her faith as a comfort, not as a weapon.

I miss my mom. I am surprised by how much the hateful words of one ignoramus towards someone I have only met once brought this all up for me (though, since she has only been gone a month, it is still pretty near the surface all the time). I just miss her goodness, and her kindness, and her tolerance. She would have responded to this news by telling me that she hopes Ryan Buell finds a really good man OR woman, as long as he finds someone who makes him happy. And she is totally right.

I am even more private about my faith than I try to be about my politics, but why would God make people a certain way and then damn them for it? And you know what, even if He did, why on Earth do people completely removed from the situation feel that it is their place and duty to spread their hate?

For those of you who haven’t read Max and Menna yet, if/when you do, you will see just how important an issue tolerance is to me. I think the world would be a better place if we were all just a little bit more like my mom.

As for me, I am just glad the dreamy men list is verrrryyy long, since I now have more of the population to compete with over Ryan Buell!

Calling for your great loves!!

2010-09-08T14:46:00.000-07:00

I am back from a totally relaxing weekend of camping, which included great food, great friends, and a great amount of much-needed doing nothing. I was totally relaxed, until I came back to a passed deadline on final Max and Menna edits, school work past due, and a really long backlist of other stuff. Ugh. Adulthood is tough.

I am moving at the beginning of October. I’ve been packing up boxes all weekend, and, as always, am shocked by the sheer number of books I own. I packed up 4 full egg-carton sized boxes of books, and this only cleaned off one of four shelves, and took care of the stacks of books lying all over my bedroom.

We’re moving to a smaller house, and I feel somewhat compelled to shed some of my considerable clutter. I am, believe it or not, incredibly sentimental, so I have a hard time parting with things. Apparently, the idea of parting with books is detestable to me. I tried. I convinced myself that I did not, in fact, need more than 500 paperbacks (from my bedroom alone), and that at least 50 of these are books that I didn’t even like. Despite, I found only 8 that I was able to put in the Goodwill pile.

And why is this? I’m actually alarmed by my inability to get rid of books. I am sentimental, for sure, but these hold little to no sentimental value to me. I am surely not materialistic, and so it isn’t the number of my possessions that is crucial. Nonetheless, even books I didn’t like contribute to this symbol of my collective knowledge and experience. I also firmly believe that books have the capacity to change you.

It’s a discussion I have had with my roommate many, many times. She is mystified when I tell her that stories have changed me—not my mood, but the way I think about and interact with the world. Now, the books (and movies and songs) that have done this for me comprise a very short list of the best of the best. But they do exist. And I can’t get rid of books, because what if I happen to pick one up at just the right moment, when I am in the perfect state of mind, and it becomes the next book that changes me. I love that feeling, and I cannot get rid of something that may someday have that power over me.

And so, I ask everyone—what books/movies/songs (if any) have changed you? I don’t necessarily mean your favorite book/movie/song, or the one that has the most awesome explosion, or the best sex scene or anything like that. Are there other people out there who have been so moved by a story that it changed them on some basic, fundamental level? Or am I just weird? If you do have a life altering book, share a little bit about it with us.

I am aiming to have some life-altering sushi from Chiyo tonight and settle in with a Paranormal State DVD to guide me through my edits… as I’ve mentioned, Ryan Buell (Paranormal State’s founder and a man who is near the top of the dreamy men list) has written a book that comes out this month. Apparently, we can demand that his book tour bring him through Baltimore. Another chance to chat with him might alter my way of interacting with the world. I think you should all go DEMAND IT! You know... for the sake of... literature :0)
http://eventful.com/performers/ryan-buell-paranormalstate-book-tour-/P0-001-000237801-0

Back from hiatus...

2010-08-30T19:51:00.000-07:00

Hello all.

I want to apologize for the lengthy gap between my last blog entry and this one. I’ve had a lot on my plate. Quite frankly, I still do, but I also feel that, as someone who wants my book to be read, I should be able to commit to sharing a blog more regularly.

So, why has my plate been so full? I lost my mother on August 13. There isn’t much more I am yet able to say about it. This isn’t a forum for me expressing grief, nor is it appropriate for me to try and work out some of what I am thinking/feeling here. Thus, though it is trite and not at all fitting, I will simply say “it is what it is” and assure everyone that I am working through this incredibly difficult time privately.

And, back to my true aim here—to spread and share my love of the story!

About a month ago, I bought a new copy of an old favorite. This was a book I read two or three times during my early teen years—I am sure I would not have been allowed to do so if my parents actually knew the content. Rereading it has been invigorating and created such a whimsical nostalgia in me. The feeling I get from returning to these pages alone has been enough to push me (albeit slowly) through the 1100 pages of this tome. However, I have been very pleased to find that the book contains as much appeal for me as an adult as it did when I was 12. Perhaps this book is even more appealing now that I actually understand some of the “adult content.”

If you have not yet found the time, I encourage everyone (over the age of 16!!!) to pick up Stephen King’s It. Most of you probably know the premise—a scary clown terrorizes the young residents of a Maine town until a band of seven kids band together to stop it. Thirty years later, when It returns, they do as well to try and end its reign for good. King isn't typically a favorite of mine. I actually thoroughly enjoy his books, and have read many of them, but he isn't on my list of "all-time favorites" as his style just isn't what I am typically most drawn to. It, however, is the exception.

The book is about a lot of things (you can cover a lot in 1100 pages), but some of my favorite themes are perhaps those that many people would read over or disregard. I am in awe of how intricately King weaves such a frightening and powerful story, and how, if you dig just below the surface, you will find the book rife with really beautiful and compelling lessons. Pervasive throughout the book is the power of belief, be it in the monster in the sewer, or the power of friendship. King teaches in the book that belief is crucial and potent, and I love the idea. This goes hand in hand with an emphasis on fate—both that it exists, but also that it is within your control. I know it seems conflicted. Characters in the book are destined to do this or that, but yet maintain the power to affect change on their situation. I like the duality.

It’s a good read, but definitely a commitment given the length. I have been grateful for the chance to dwell within my own past, and find re-reading it as an adult definitely gives me perspective on if and when you can ever go back to childhood, either in place or in state of mind.
There is much to look forward to this fall, and I am focusing on it with maniacal intent. We are now only two months away from the publication of Max and Menna. I am truly amazed at how fast these past several months have flown by, and am very much looking forward to promoting the book when it is a tangible thing!

Also, this fall, a new season of my second favorite t.v. show (True Blood being the first) premiers. All of you ghost story fanatics should join me in my excitement to see what Paranormal State has to offer when (dreamy man) Ryan Buell is at the helm as executive producer. Ryan’s first book comes out in September. I am contemplating braving another potential foot-in-the-mouth moment to go to his book signing party. We shall see.

And last but not least, some amazing movies on the line up for this fall. Tron is on my must-see-over-and-over list. Stay tuned. I will keep on sharing amazing stories as I come across them.

For now, my advice to everyone in Baltimore is this: Get to Joe’s Squared this week for the special skins. Roasted eggplant and feta. A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.

Smiles!

An entertaining escape...

2010-07-27T13:43:00.000-07:00

My plan for this blog, moving forward, had been to focus on the positive things. Rather than an endless rant to let you into my world and know all about me (because hey, I’m really not that interesting) I have enjoyed sharing my positive juju with the world and planned to keep going with that.

But, in the immortal words of John Lennon “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

And so, beautiful boys (and girls), the time has come when my personal life must encroach upon my creative psyche. I found out a few weeks ago that my mother’s long battle with cancer will be ending soon. We won’t call it a loss, she fought too hard for that. We’re going to call this one a tie. Tie or no tie, nonetheless, this is clearly devastating news. I haven’t been much of a blogger as a result, opting instead to share my feelings with the world through the emerging art of text messaging.

But, ars longa, vitae brevis est. I had a recent affirmation of that, and in my faith in the power of storytelling. I hate to hear people refer to books and movies as “entertainment.” They are this, no doubt; however, I think the stories we tell ourselves and each other become a part of our cultural identity. Just as the Greeks are remembered for (among many other things) the beauty and intricacy of their mythology and epic poems, I think we will be remembered partially for our stories.

This is a scary concept, I know. I really would not want to be a member of the generation remembered for bringing The Hot Chick into our canon. But, that said, I would be proud to be part of the generation that contributed A Prayer for Owen Meany, The United States of Leland, Flight, True Blood, Braveheart and many others.

Here’s why I feel so strongly that movies are crucial: Because whether it is to make a point (like The Life of David Gale, even though I don’t agree with the point), or expose a new facet of our world to those who would not otherwise see it (Slumdog Millionaire) or simply to create a world that will allow us to marvel (bless you Harry Potter), at the end of the day all of these help us to see a world outside of our own little lives.

This weekend I had the unique and delightful opportunity to enter a world that made me forget my own. Honestly, for over a month I have had little else on my mind then my mom. It’s nearly impossible to focus on anything. And so, when I went to the movies on Saturday and sat through the entire film and realized, as I left, that I had been so completely immersed that I had gained two hours of freedom from my own thoughts, I was ecstatic.

The film, ladies and gentlemen, is Inception. The graphics and effects and cool concept will pull you in. Astoundingly good writing coupled with simply flawless acting will keep you there. When I left the theater, it felt odd to find myself simply in a parking lot looking for my car. I had so become part of this world, and been so enthralled by the story that re-entering my life startled me.

I don’t want to go too much into the plot because it is hard to explain without actually seeing it. The whole point is to experience it. Stories are what help us understand, cope, and even escape from our lives. I will be eternally grateful to this filmmaking team for helping me have two marvelous hours on Saturday. This film is what the “entertainment” industry should strive for. This is a film that, I hope, will help to define us not because it makes any bold proclamations or advances any special issues, but because it is an example of how an excellent story can hold you, keep you, and impact you.

And FYI, I am officially adding Joseph Gordon Levitt to the dreamy men list. He can chill with Ben Barnes, Brendan Frasier, Jonathan Brandis, Ryan Buell, and Robert Pattinson there for a while :0)

These are a few of my favorite things...

2010-07-12T16:50:00.000-07:00

Here’s what I believe: life has to be about finding little joy.

Here’s what I mean: I think it is natural to want the big thing—the great love, the perfect job, the white picket fence life. But, that just isn’t the way it works out for all of us, and you have to take the little bits of joy where you can get them.

Sometimes you have to believe that life is more than the sum of its parts, kiddo.

The last couple of weeks have been tough, but what it has reinforced to me over and over is that it is the ability to look at all of the parts—the good parts—and know that they add up to something better than what you see on the surface.

Today is a day when I am thinking about my favorite things. A free night to watch a silly movie (which is what I am doing now—God bless you AVP Requiem), or that best friend who just knows what to say and what not to say.

There are the places that make me happy, or make me feel comfortable, or at home. These are places like Gambrill State Park, the rocks over looking Harpers Ferry, the Court of Two Sisters in New Orleans. There are comfort foods that somehow make things feel OK—an Ultimate Roll from Chiyo, Spinach and Prosciutto Risotto from Joe Squared, Spicy Croquettes from Tapas Teatro. Then, the songs that I listen to over and over when I am sad to feel better, all of which are guilty pleasure songs- Shattered by OAR, Somewhere Only We Know by Keane, or Everlong by the Foo Fighters.

All of these little pleasures add up—moments of happiness that build life to be something more than the sum of its parts.

Really, no point to this rambling. Just things I have been thinking as life gets a little harder.

Crowd Sourcing for a Book Title!

2010-06-27T16:55:00.000-07:00

So yes, I am a lax blogger through and through. The last few weeks have been chaotic, to put it mildly, and I am having a hard time remembering to do anything! This morning I got out of the shower and was completely dressed before I realized that I hadn't rinsed the conditioner out of my hair.

But, in the interim since blogs, a whole lot has happened, personally, with work, and in terms of the writing. The big news is that I am posting this immediately after finishing...drum roll...novel number two.

I must say that finishing a book (both times) has been rather anti-climactic to me because I am absolutely the perpetual editor. I periodically have to remind myself that I cannot make further changes to Max and Menna because it is only a few months away from publication. But, because of this, a story never feels done. I am anxious to see if holding the book in my hands, if reading reviews, and hearing feedback on the book will somehow finalize it in my mind, or if I will always be thinking of ways I could have kept going.

So, I did "finish" my second novel. I am going back and forth on titles. May be My Stranger Husband, but Q insists that this title, combined with its subject matter, make it seem like fodder for a Lifetime TV Movie. The alternate is Chocolates for a Comatose Man. This is a strange feeling for me, because Max and Menna was always called that. The idea of changing the title to me was tantamount to bastardizing the story (I know, I know, a melodramatic writer). But here, I am just not sure which title is more befitting, or if I should care was Q thinks :0)

So-- thoughts? Vote! Tell me what you're thinking! I am pasting a description below because I am at a loss here...

This is the story of Gillian who begins telling about her life as she sits by the bed of her comatose husband. While nurses and doctors come in to reassure her that he will recover well from a mysterious fall, Gillian mulls over the events that have made up their cold, and loveless marraige. She secretly delights in the freedom of a house to herself, a delight that is cut short when her husband awakes.

Upon opening his eyes, Ricky seems to be a very different man. He has few memories of his life and doesn't recognize Gillian. Convinced that this is a continuation of the cruel mind games her husband has always played, Gillian begins to tell him stories of a life that never existed. She makes up children that were never born, and helps him through learning of his mother's death, despite the fact that his mother is still very much alive. Through all of this Gillian hopes to draw him out and force him to admit the manipulation, but ultimately begins to question not only the validity of his illness, but also how far she can go to punish a man for sins he can't remember committing.

Technically speaking...

2010-06-17T18:32:00.000-07:00

So I becoming a lax blogger. Life has been absolutely chaotic, some really good, and some really bad. Positive or negative, nonetheless, lots of chaos stimulates me and I have been writing like crazy. I am days away from finishing book 2, and I am rather excited about it.

We have about another month or so of “quiet” around Max and Menna before the real busy stuff starts. As of right now, I am just waiting on reviews and advanced praise. Anyone who knows me knows that patience isn’t one of my virtues, but I am distracted by so many other things that time is just flying by. It will be November 1 before I know it.

And so, I want to keep up with sharing some of my great loves—story loves—with all of you. I was so tempted to call on my sick day movie for fodder for this blog, which is Aliens. I adore the movie, but more for the great explosions and the combination of a totally kick a*s heroine and lots and lots of explosions. Ellen Ripley rocks my world.

Nonetheless, I have been focusing my good energy on stories that move me, and Aliens may be the perfect accompaniment to Chinese food and my couch when I have a day off. But there is a book that has been on my mind lately, because it is a book that so beautifully captures the concept of beauty from, or even in, tragedy.
If you haven’t read A Prayer for Owen Meaney by John Irving, I cannot recommend it strongly enough. There are two things about this novel that absolutely floor me:

1. Its deliberation. So many times during my first (of many) readings of this lengthy novel I asked myself “what is the point of all of this?” Luckily, it was a school assignment so I had to wade through pages and pages of description and seemingly unconnected events. However, when you get to the end, the last ten pages of the book let you know that not a single word of the novel was wasted. The sheer skill required in crafting a story this complex and yet this perfectly planned amazes me.
2. As mentioned, this book is very much about understanding the need behind random tragedy, and the motivations behind sacrifice. The movie takes an event, very much like something you might see on the nightly news and mull over it slightly before moving on, and gives it so much purpose and importance.

I’ve read lots of John Irving’s novels, some of which I have loved, some of which I have not, but all of which I have appreciated. However, this is one of my five all time favorite books (and for me to pick only five all-time favorite books is a daunting task for me because I love so many), and its construction is one of the first things that made me start to consider the technical ability that has to accompany talent in order for writing to be truly moving (at least to me).
I hope all is well for all of you, my few dear readers.

No dreamy men on my hospital TV

2010-06-09T10:54:00.000-07:00

Well, the good juju worked. I got a super awesome quote on Max and Menna from one of my writing heroes. This is a prime line for the front cover, and I couldn't be more over the moon about it.

However, on my end, I have some terrible personal luck! While staying with mom at Hospital A, I ate at the cafeteria. Eight hours later, I woke up (still staying with mom) with an awful stomach ache. I started to drive home but only made it about halfway before I was too sick to keep driving. I pulled into an ER at Hospital B, and here I am, a day later, still in the hospital with food poisoning.

Luckily, there is free wi-fi, because my TV has offered me no dreamy men to comfort me! Certainly no HBO, so no Alexander Skarsgaard on True Blood.No A&E, so there is no Ryan Buell on Paranormal State. Couldn't even find any Big Bang Theory to offer me some Johnny Galecki last night. The closest I have come is a commercial for the new Brenden Frasier movie.

Thus, I figured out how to stream Netflix (using ultra-slow free-wifi)and have been watching one of my all-time favorite shows, prompted by one of the original dreamy men. That's right ladies and gentleman-- my computer is now all Sea Quest all the time. Interestingly, this show got me wondering how much different being young must be in this time (she says at the ripe old age of 29). Here's why:

When I was 12, I was SOOOO in love with Jonathan Brandis (hence the Sea Quest reminiscing). He was the original dreamy man. My entire room was decorated with Jonathan Brandis photos, I bought every magazine with a photo of him, and poured over every interview to learn of what we had in common. He'd read It, I loved that book. He loved STP, I went out and bought an STP CD. And this was back in the stoneage of entertainment communication, circa 1992.

Clearly, I have progressed past the point of decorating my closet door with Tiger Beat photos of dreamy men that make me swoon. I have graduated to looking for a "real" boyfriend (sort of...maybe...when I have time)...and twitter :0)

I started following some tv personalities on twitter and facebook when the book deal came through to try and watch what these people were doing, and how it was working to build community around them and connect them with the people that love their work. My hope was that one days people would love my work, and I wanted to see how other people connected in that situation. Ryan Buell was the first person I followed, and I think he is awesome about making his fans feel like part of his life.

But, here's what I am thinking. If I was 12 NOW and knew on a daily basis what Jonathan Brandis was doing, I think it would have driven my obsession to startling heights. Of course he would have been meant for me if I knew at 11 a.m. that he was heading to McDonalds. And, hot damn, had he responded to one of my tweets... frenzy.

So, social media is awesome because it helps us all connect. But, in a way, I am glad it wasn't at my disposal circa 1992. I had a hard enough time focusing in school knowing that math class truly only served to fill the hours before Jonathan Brandis came to whisk me away. In a way, its ironic. My first real understanding of how real-time and instant news had become was when a tiny little ticker marched across my screen in 2003 to tell me had passed away. Even a decade after I outgrew obsessing over celebrities so wholly, I was saddened by the news.

If this post makes no sense... well... I did just get a dose of morphine :0)

Good juju Round II

2010-06-03T20:11:00.000-07:00

So I have this co-worker who is reading Max and Menna. She is one of the people I have met in my life who I instantly and wholeheartedly liked. Why? Because she is a successful, approachable woman balancing work and motherhood and everything else that life throws at you… with a life-sized cut out of Robert Pattinson on the wall of her office. Since Robert Pattinson is high up on my “dreamy men” list, I do appreciate the occasional opportunity to duck in her office and stare at that smoldering face and escape the world.

Alas, I digress.

Wonderful Co-Worker said nice things to me this morning about the book. I needed that, since I have gotten mixed reactions elsewhere thus far. Which leaves me wondering—is the good juju working. (For those of you wondering, just as I requisitioned “feeling infinite” from a well-known young adult writer, “juju” is a phrase from the George of the Jungle movie, which I love, and not just because Brendan Frasier—another on the dreamy men list—looks phenomenal in it).
Thus, since the good juju does return, I shall continue giving kudos to another story that makes me feel infinite.

I have a special love for movies and books that make you feel sad and hopeful all at the same time. It’s a rare skill to close a book, or pop out a DVD, with tears streaming but somehow feel exhilarated at the same time. As a self-professed movie fanatic, I have a hard time picking one as my absolute favorite, but were I to do so, it would be The United States of Leland, which is the best example I have ever seen of making tragedy understandable and optimistic.

For those of you who aren’t familiar, the movie has a phenomenal cast—Ryan Gosling, one of my absolute favorites (and another dreamy man who, ironically, is also the star of one of my least favorite movies, but this blog is about good juju), Don Cheadle, Lena Olin, Kevin Spacey, Chris Klein, Michelle Williams, and Jenna Malone to name a few.

The movie opens as Leland, our protagonist, is arrested for allegedly murdering the mentally retarded brother of his ex-girlfriend. What amazes me about this film is that, for all of the grisly implications of that sentence, Leland is very much our hero. The movie never ventures into the realm of gory or trite, but maintains a mission of convincing its audience how someone guilty of such a horrific crime could in fact be the tragic hero. The film in and of itself is quiet, understated, and focuses on the relationships we have—good or bad—and how one interaction can not only alter the course of our lives, but change the way we think about it.

In the movie, a character says something to Leland that sticks with me. Broken-hearted, this minor player says “You have to believe that life is more than the sum of its parts, kiddo.” And do we ever.

This sticks with me so much as I have helped with care for my mom since she got sick. Many, many nights spent in hospitals, or sleeping on the couch, listening to my mom try to sleep, or call for a nurse, or get sick, or pray when she doesn’t think I hear, this line rolls through my head. This has to mean something more than what it is, or what is the point?

If you’re ever feeling whimsical, or confused, or a little down and want to watch something that will both help you indulge your self-pity and help you snap out of it, this is a movie to watch. You will feel infinite.

So I leave you with another quote from the movie, which sums up my mood for the day: “This one is something a friend of mine said to me. "You have to believe that life is more than the sum of its parts, kiddo." I remember it right now to the "kiddo" part. But when I think about what she said, the same thing always comes into my head. What if you can't put the pieces together in the first place?”

What makes you feel infinite?

2010-05-29T19:35:00.000-07:00

It’s 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, and I am eating a bowl of microwave popcorn alone on the couch. On the surface, there is nothing particularly interesting about this, I know (save for the fact that I actually really don’t like popcorn), but I am rather enjoying it.

I so seldom get the whole house to myself like this. I love the roommates, but I also strongly feel that the occasional chance to be alone it my personal method of re-aligning the world. That, and cutting my hair or rearranging furniture, but I haven’t had a whole lot of time to do either of those things. I did start an ill-fated crusade to clean my room this morning, but succeeded only in widening the path from the door to my bed.

But, here I am, alone with my popcorn, a glass of wine, an episode of SVU I have already seen at least three times, and my thoughts. And, wow, the thoughts.
I went to see my roommate’s band play last night and got to see a man I hadn’t seen in many years. I told him about the book, and he told me about his new music. We were discussing “the incident.”

“The incident” isn’t much of an incident, really. I sent ten copies of Max and Menna out to writers, as I mentioned, for praise. I got the very first response and…it wasn’t good. It wasn’t BAD per se, simply a very nice “this isn’t my cup of tea.” No matter how nice, I feel deflated. This was followed by encouragement to keep writing. That did frustrate me a bit, because I have always felt that my writing isn’t a choice, but an imperative.

I know, I know, I need to develop a thicker skin, but this is neither here nor there. I told my conversant this last night and he waved it off. I explained the whole imperative theory and he nodded knowingly and told me about his music. “It’s a way to live forever,” he said, “to put something out there in the world that outlasts you.”

Which, as always, got me to thinking. It reminds me of this book I just read—Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower—in which, at one point, the main character is in the middle of this awesome experience and simply says “I feel infinite.”
I feel infinite.

It was one of the most potent moments of the book, and it has stuck with me because I think I understand the feeling. I think. It’s that moment out of time where you are just happy, or amazed, or enthralled. There are a few things that make me feel that way, I suppose that everyone has them.

Laughing genuinely with friends I have had for decades and realizing that bonds don’t weaken because we’re all busy. Having a moment with everyone where all of the bullsh*t and egos fade and we just are who we were when we were 18 and are happy together makes me feel infinite. That first kiss with someone that you really want to kiss, when you stop worrying and feel possibility pulsing through you, that makes me feel infinite. But most of all, stories. Books, movies, songs—anything with that amazing story makes me feel infinite.

And so, I have decided that I can’t be too upset about the bad feedback, because I haven’t put a lot of good juju out there for the stories that have made me feel infinite. I read them, I watch them, I consume them, but I so seldom take the time to put props out there for the world.

Thus, I am going to start throwing that out there—tales of books and movies and songs that make me feel infinite.

So, here we go. We’re going to start at the very beginning, the first book I ever read that made me feel that draw. In fact, a book that amazed me so much that it pushed me to write, that I have read it more than 10 times, that there is a tattered copy on three of the five bookshelves in my house. This book is Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card. Many of you are likely already a member of the Ender’s Game fan club, officially or unofficially. I read it in seventh grade and was amazed by the levels of the story, and by how easily I became engrossed in it.

The story is about Ender, a third child in a future when only two are permitted by law. By Ender is engineered by a society that has barely survived two alien attacks to, potentially, be the military genius to help Earth escape the third. If it sounds like hardcore sci-fi, it isn’t. It definitely has aliens and astronauts, but the story is about child soldiers, and what the experience is to them. And it is, to this day, one of my absolute favorite among the thousands of stories I have consumed. I still pick it up at least twice a year when I am between books and want to feel comforted.

I remember clearly reading it for the first time, how amazed I was by how Card crafted it. I was amazed at how I because so emotionally engrossed with Ender and what happened to him, and how the end of it made me feel hopeful and full and…infinite.

More to come on my infiniteness, on authors and filmmakers whose work will live on in my mind at least. I welcome, until next time, comments on what it is that makes you all feel infinite.

And my apologies to Stephen Chbosky for stealing his expression.