Something Something Books Have Powers

First things first, if you didn’t read the reblog from yesterday, shame on you. Because this is where you go to have fingers wagged at you, you’re welcome. And my friends are on a roll because my girl, Babs, just dropped a mic, as well, and you should go to. (That was a link. Click it.)

Speaking of Babs, she just LITERALLY blew my mind. (Yes, I’m giggling to myself. Figuratively.) So I tweeted about how as we walked home in the not so gently falling snow [read: it was sort of like getting occasionally punched on top of my head by someone made of mush] my 8 year old son told me that he’d put a snowball in his pocket at recess. To which my mom brain went: …of course you did. See, you might have been ready to ask “why”…but then. You might not be a parent. Onward!

So anyway! At some point, I realized he meant, “I put a snowball in my pocket at recess… and it’s still in my pocket.” Which still basically got this response:

And believe me, it’s not even that he’s ever done this before. It’s just that I’ve known him a few years now.

So, I tweet about it. And Babs asks if I know a book by Ezra Jack Keats called “The Snowy Day”. And that the boy puts a snowball in his pocket to take home. And then my brain straight fell. down. Because my son’s name is Ezra. O_O I mean, because this:

Seeing as he used the word “ain’t” the other day because he’s reading the book Shiloh, I feel like maybe my son should be watched extra close. Like forever because I totally can’t remember every book he’s ever read and how they might translate into our lives. But I do know he’s read all of the How To Train Your Dragon books thus far. So that can’t be good. >.>

 

When Authors Are Awesome pt II

Well, I told you in the last “awesome authors” post how Cressida Cowell wrote back but I couldn’t talk about it – she asked for Ezra’s address to send him a surprise letter! So we made this to remember the experience! Enjoy!

 

I Believe The Children Are The Future

Ezra wrote three stories in the Buzzy short story series – inspired by the desire for me to “make [his] book the way [I] make [mine].” So basically he wanted me to make him a hard copy in actual book form (I use Lulu to make myself a finished copy – and then I revise and have to make another one) and I told him he needed more material. Thus Buzzy’s story include: Buzzy and the Wolf, Buzzy Buys New Pets and Buzzy Goes To School. He dictated, Daddy transcribed. That’s all over now.

Maybe he was tired of waiting for me to give him the green light (it’s part of being a writer, my son) or maybe he was just finished with Buzzy’s world because since then he has taken to making his own little booklets made with staples and computer paper. He commissioned Daddy for the cover of the first mini book but for the sequel? All Ezra. Can I just tell you what it’s about now, because O_O

It’s called…Frogchow the Frog. It’s about a frog whose real name is George and who “dreams that he is a superhero. His power is jumping higher than a frog would.” And lemme tell you, things happen quick for this frog with the name made of pure awesome. One minute he’s eatin’ cookies, the next he’s playing in the park and “finally” he (abruptly) becomes a superhero just like he always hoped. Talk about intense, the pacing is lightning fast. By page two of what I think is a three page sequel, he’s married. And if you thought the story ended there, you were wrong. Written on the back  cover? “Frogchow the Frog 3 is coming up soon. Get ready for another crazy adventure!”

And ready, we are!

 

Things That Could’ve Probably Waited Til Morning

I guess I need to pick up the pace with the wip. I like this more organic – but not belabored – process after two seemingly back-to-back novel-writing marathons. My seven year old does not. I was watching some nice scripted comedy and he asked me why I wasn’t writing. O_O You see – he explained – the more minutes I write, the more work I’ll finish. Even if it doesn’t seem like a lot, every time I work on it, there’s less work left to do. This is the pep talk, people. He wants this book done. The (equally) freakin’ adorable part is that he’s been making books of his own. Itty bitty chapbooks of illustrated stories. It’s pretty much the thing I love most. Even more than him loving the same musicals over which I was obsessed as a kid (“Mama, I think Howard Keel’s voice is actually MORE beautiful than Milly [Jane Powell]!”). …was that the right way to punctuate that… it’s 2:54 in the morning. I care not.

ANYWAY. I… have no idea why this seemed like a good time to write a blog post. Probably because my life has been eaten by a host of responsibilities… most of which existed two weeks ago, but which with the additional one equal BUSY. Aaaand it’s been like a jillion years since yeah that’s boring even me.

Um.

Huh?

No, I was gonna say something about how there was this moment when I was … acknowledging/contemplating/ruminating/some word that means the thought I’m thinking… on how I’m a writer who is unpublished in fiction and that matters not to my son. He sees my daily life, my work, that’s all that matters. Mom’s a writer. He knows literary agents by name but that’s all secondary. There’s something so precious about that, in a way that differs from adults coming to the same conclusion. You know… FORGET IT, I CAN’T MAKE MYSELF CLEAR.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

 

Sick Sad World

Do you know how long it’s been since I uploaded pictures and videos onto my laptop? Me, who cannot breathe without writing it down? (God, that’d be horrible if that weren’t an exaggeration.) There are so many things I’m missing that – had my delightful child not destroyed altered my laptop – I would be sharing with friends and family.

For one thing, today Ezra had his first school chum over for a play-date. This was especially adorable because this child doesn’t speak or understand English so listening to the two of them play the Wii and express pride in their accomplishments was nothing short of epically hilarious. I would have loved to take some video of them but, I realize, when I can’t upload them, I don’t even bother taking pictures! Case in point, we also just had a great get-together with our favorite kid-filled family – and I took zero. No pictures, no nothing. Ridiculous. Which brings me to the thing I MUST document. While preparing the kids’ dinner plates, Ezra described the piece de resistance thusly: “These ribs will break your heart.”

::flails::

WHAT? YOU ARE AWESOME, CHILD.

I’ve just decided that I should draw you a representation each time I want to document something. Then I remembered that I can’t draw. Not in a funny way, like Hyperbole And A Half, where she clearly has some artistic talent. In the way that a semi-handicapped puppy can’t draw. As in, you would have no idea that a demon-possessed pencil didn‘t just scratch the heck out of that piece of paper.

I feel like you need some proof.In my defense… I tried really hard. That. That is apparently what my hand and Paint think my son looks like. In trying to demonstrate his lack of top teeth, I’ve actually given him ALL the teeth anyone ever had and also, apparently, I think my son is a scary woman. I feel like I nailed his physique though. So.

I think I’ve made my point.

 

Whatever I Haven’t Already Used As A Title

Everybody likes lists.

(1) My son is too eloquent for my liking, most of the time. Thankfully, the loss of his two front teeth (and the subtle hissing sound that ushered in) and the pitch of his voice are comforting reminders that he is not, in fact, seventeen. But one word he still uses on a regular basis is “rememorizing”. Clearly, it’s a mixture of “remember” and “memorize” and together, I’m realizing, it makes a lot of sense. Remembering isn’t enough; you can recall something for a fleeting period of time. He wants to remember and then memorize it. I am totally using that. Rememorize.

(2) I rolled over the 10k mark in my loverly wip today – and because I’m lame, I have to sort out that a) it was 10.5k and b) it was a day and a half after I said I wanted to. And though this novel is a departure from my process for the previous two books (and also is a return to my now classic process), the problem wasn’t knowing what came next. It was writing it. So lame, but it happens.

(3) I’d blog about Ringer and all the ways it went wrong, but even the post would be boring. Somebody was too excited over the reveal and forgot to write the story. #Whoops #ThisSmellsLikeLonestar Here’s a hint: the viewer shouldn’t be (repeatedly) saying “she didn’t have to do that” or “why did she do that” or “why are we supposed to care” and especially not “please, honey, can we watch something else”. That last one was the hubby but I told him we’d be stronger as a couple if we powered through it. To be honest, I think a little piece of him died.

(4) Remember Lonestar?! (I hope no, seeing as it got cancelled after the second episode.) And I know what you’re thinking. Bethany, you’re awesome. But to answer the thought you are absolutely NOT thinking: No. I am not a sore winner. Justice is meant to be sweet. (And also, Law and Order UK, to which I referred in one of those posts? Yes, I did and yes, it WAS!)

 

In Which I Labor

I know what you’re doing, by the way. This game you’re playing where you pretend I haven’t been ridiculously lazy about blogging – not the content, mind you, because let’s be real, candy woulda been involved one way or the other – and pretending to be entertained so I feel like a giant loser and have to commit to doing actual work here? You win this round.

First things first: My seven year old – who just turned seven, don’tcha know – is making up the guest list for his next birthday party. (Apparently, taking a trip every summer to celebrate the month of Morrow is lost on him and he’s wondering why he can’t have a crappy, four hour party like all the other cool kids.) Needless to say, he’s listed about a dozen people thus far – people I’m sure would love to celebrate him, btw – and nobody’s under the age of 21. Yet. Thankfully, there’s about four kids I know he likes.

Not good enough.

I wanna point out that today’s Labor Day (even in Montreal) and I’m blogging. Please double the amount of points I already deserve for awesomeness.

When there is an issue with my laptop that affects the way in which I interact with it, I realize how attached we are. The laptop and I. My son decided to bring his foot down on the left side of my computer and the audio promptly stopped working. I had to replace some drivers (some of which had no effect), it doesn’t hibernate like it’s supposed to, and until I disabled some start-up applications, it wouldn’t even let me move the mouse once the OS was open. So. Basically, I’m now able to do everything but listen to music and watch my stories – which is like having a child break your television, since I watch my shows online. And also, did I mention I can’t listen to music? Because I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned how much music means to me. And also, that I listen to music when I write. And prepare to write. And develop a storyline prior to writing it.

(My son has offered – since music is so important to me – to make up songs. O_O)

EDIT: Sorry, I failed to mention that my USBs no longer work, either. And that I feel like an amputee.

 

Yentl Explains It All

I still haven’t shared all my lovely loot from the wonderful USofA – most notably the whimsical dress from JCREW. O_O I. Can’t not shout when I say that name. Or think of that name. It just tingles me. And as apology for not sharing that and the WELLIES! EEE! Here’s another delightful dress picked out by the hubby.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Is she making that splendidly foolish expression on purpose, perhaps in jest?” And the answer, mon puce, is no. Totally unintentional, organic ugliness. Enjoy. Also, this dress now reveals itself to be a frenemie. Feeling wonderful and making me look like a tub.

Hmm. This post has taken an unfortunate turn. Let’s talk about how we in Quebec spent our 4th of July holiday, then.

It tasted like freedom, too. Mm. The goodness. We also had those red white and blue rocket pops – ‘member those?! And taught Ezra – you know that kid who sings Oh Canada – the Pledge of Allegiance. (He knew the “liberty and justice for all” part. Thanks, Evan Almighty!) We had two Canadian friends over and ate ourselves happy. It’s not a barbeque if you’re not hosting! Oh and then get into a super serious discussion. Which we did.

And as my child’s seventh birthday creeps closer (by which of course I mean I feel like a train on a perilous track, no way to stop, no way to go back, snowball that’s gathering speed down a hill, going faster and faster and faster until! TOMORRRROW NIGHT, TOMORROW NIGHT!) ::ahem:: Um.

Let’s just reconvene down here. Right, so my child is a big boy. In theory, at least, because to be honest, he still wears a size 5 and has grown vertically but not horizontally in a while. Before I got married, so you know, right around puberty, I really wasn’t one of those girls who dreamed about kids. Or marriage. Actually, I dreamed about how much I’d neglect my poor husband while I was off being a tycoon of some sort. And I don’t remember the first time I thought about kids’ names. And I don’t remember the first time that thinking about kids’ names was for real kids and not kids in one of my books. What I do remember is that whenever I even began taking into account that husbands might happen before I was 40 and said husband might want a child – I lamented that kids didn’t even seem fun after they hit like six.

So here we are in the month of my son’s seventh birthday. And lemme tell you, the novelty, she has not waned. If anything, she grows. The obsession deepens. (I’m gonna read this at your wedding, Ez. And your high school graduation. And on prom night before you and your date tear away from the house.) But here’s why:

Seriously? Yeah. We can talk about how wrong I was about marriage being second fiddle some other time. ::looks back to picture::

 

Pick A Title, Any Title

Before we even begin.

::low gurgling sounds:: Best two minutes of my life.

And now! (Said like Jon Lovitz. – I feel like I’ve told you that before…) So this month we’re going on our Morrowpalooza trip. Yes, it’s early this year because the hubby’s ‘Sconsin reunion is somehow NOT observant of the holy month of July and wants to be in June. Whatevs. Just means I get to eat Chipotle and Panda Express and Target Popcorn earlier.

Hilariously, these are exactly the things to which my 6-for-now year old is looking forward. Last night AND this morning he was repeating “I can’t wait to go to Panda”. This is hilarious for several reasons. 1) Because he didn’t know what a fortune cookie was called so he made a lengthy explanation. “It’s in a bag and it’s a goodie and crunchy and there’s paper inside. It’s awesome.” That’s where we ended. 2) He hasn’t had Panda for going on 2 years which, for his age, should mean he has no earthly recollection, right? 3) We used to order (for him) steamed rice and orange chicken. *That’s* the amazing meal he’s salivating over. O_o Both of which we’ve had here and the rice, quite often. So. Not understanding his obsession.

And lastly, my brain is a jerk. I was so determined to have the bestest vacation EVER from writing ANYTHING after I finished Cait After Exile a few days ago. And then, 1:30 am rolled around and – for the second night in a row – I started working on the query synopsis. O_O Keep in mind, I have materials out on The Last Life of Avrilis and am QUITE hopeful that I won’t be querying, but. I cannot see the future. So apparently my brain is like, Yep, we’re doing this. So we did. Sad. But also, I really like writing queries? And a huge thanks to Rachel for sticking it out with me until like 4:30 my time. O_O Crazy.

And then I had two super specific and lengthy dreams. One about a guy who helped around the house and was Of Mice And Men. I was telling someone not to be so rude to him and then while helping him do something, he attacked me. Good times. Aaaand another about confiscating weapons from gang members and taking my sister JenJen’s place in a hostage situation. That’s how my brain unwinds?

 

Mother’s Day and Mother of Mercy

My 1st grader was very excited for Mother’s Day this year. He came home the week before and wished me a Happy Mother’s Day. To which I  >.> and <.< … and then said “thanks”.  In the days that followed, he continuously explained how excited I was (yes, me, not him – methinks my little boy was projecting un peu mais c’est encore mignon) and how well I should be! He had three presents prepared for me. The wait. She was indeed cruel. But finally, the Friday before the big day arrived and after closing my eyes, my son (who may have been jumping up and down by this point) gave me my gifts!

I didn’t videotape or take pictures. (Elena. I have failed you.) But! I can still show you the loveliness! (There’s an annoying sound in the back…is it just me?)

Pweshus.

And now for the Mother of Mercy part. (It’s an exasperation, fyi.) In other news, I am on a writing schedule for my wip, tentatively called Cait After Exile (gasp! applause!) – and I’m in LARVE with it. It’s pretty much the exact same way I felt last July when I was writing Avrilis. I love it. There’s a world that has to be created so there’s definite planning and plotting going on but the best thing is ALWAYS when you meet characters you didn’t know would exist, then those characters end up revealing the story or you mention something in the course of writing a scene whose purpose you knew but then the thing you mention reveals the next step. It’s gorgeous. I love it. (I know, we’ve talked about My Favorite Moments In Writing before, but it never stops being delicious.)

As I said last time, this book and the one before it are both YA. As you know, everything else I’ve written in the last 10 years has been adult, literary and most of it heavy because it deals with a lot of social commentary. Writing these two YA has been SUCH an exhilirating experience because for sci-fi/fantasy/dystopian (which doesn’t appeal to me in adult fiction quite as much) you are rewriting the world. Anything is possible. And writing about real life, for which I have a passion especially when it comes to the Black American predicament, is not always fun intense. It’s real life intense. Vitriol and argument can and shockingly do ensue, denial and accusation. Our entire worth has been assigned to this identity and we don’t all agree on what it entails or how empowerment and success is defined. Some of us are just trying to say, THAT PROVES MY POINT.

Le sigh.

The point is: Ezra makes the world better.

And that, I am rejuvenated and – after this wip – can’t wait to reread TMLA aka The White Whale!