spicy mayo, scr*w senor green, and other thoughts on life and writing

somebody in my house turned the entire (half jar) of mayo in our fridge into an entire (half jar) of spicy mayo. since there are only two people in my house - and i am one of them - pinpointing the culprit was no hard task. and tho i’m curious to know what the circumstances were for the abundance of mayo and why he didn’t just make a small bowl of spicy mayo to suit his spicy mayo needs at that time, mostly i was grateful for the backup jar of BOGO mayo we had because i'm not at all having a two cheers for shocking discovery of bright orange mayo when you're expecting regular mayo kind of day. and yes, that is how i chose to word that sentence.

suffice to say, i might be having a fairly hormonal week.

two weeks ago, i returned from my heavenly-productive writing retreat to my must-have-descended-from-heaven beau (who makes brazenly inappropriate amounts of altered condiments) to my teeny apartment and, here's the kicker, to my Regular. Old. Life. 

don’t get me wrong. i love my regular old life because it’s not regular and i’m not old and my life on so many days feels blessed and just…luckily good. except lately i wish i woke up one score and five years ago and said, man, i want to be an electrical engineer when i grow up.

see, i’m starting a new novel. and while it was going brilliantly in the high desert region of Colorado, you know, here:

in Brooklyn it feels stifled and boring because it isn’t being written how it should be, which is frustrating when you consider i’m the one who’s writing it. now all told, i’ve been focused on this novel for about two months, so i will work out the glitches over the course of the next year at which time i’m sure an editor, or twenty, will take another year to say they’re not sure about the authenticity of the voice and no one’s buying odd murder mysteries that are set in the 1940’s anyways. at which time i will begin another novel and… scream, perhaps.

but i digress, and while i digress further, allow me to say that when you’re having a hormonal week that leads you to write catty and pessimistic sentences like the ones above (one editor did say that she would just die if she didn’t acquire my novel, but then her editorial board said, eh, we doubt it.) you should definitely not start thinking thoughts like “it’s as if I’ve worked the same job for fifteen years without a single promotion.” 

and when your hormonal week gets to that level you should definitely definitely not check in on more successful authors. 

especially not more successful authors who have created online, free content educational material using a grant they received from Googletwo years ago. and even though you admire him and think he’s a bit of a prophet, you also can’t help thinking, oh scr*w you, John Green. you know what i was doing two years ago? complaining about my too small apartment. you know what my biggest accomplishment in the last two years was? the fact that my website name no longer has blogspot in it (i know, awesome, right? thanks Rich! weeee!).

and then we take deep breaths.

beyond wishing for a writing guardian angel or mentor or an editor or otherwise decent connection to take an interest in me, i know what i have to do.

first, i have to stop being such a crybaby. i did get that SCBWI grant so it’s not like there haven’t been any promotions. also, i have to put my head down and work. i have to reach out to and check out more successful authors because it’s inspiring and more than that, writing doesn’t have to be a lonely vacuum. tho most times it is and since i didn't want to be an electrical engineer, since i chose to write novels, i need to go back and read the first sentence of this paragraph a few more times.

maybe some people are meant to do multitudes of really intelligent good for the earth and minds of youth things – thank you John Green (and apologies about that scr*w you bit early. i know you’re a real person who's worked hard to get where you're at and i'm sure you have your own hormonal weeks. though probably less of them because you’re a man.) and some people are meant to do mini-multitudes in different fields like farm-to-table restaurant-ing. (tho have I mentioned that my website name no longer has blogspot in it?) and it’s all okay, so long as everyone’s enjoying themselves. 

maybe it’s all about timing anyway. so in the meantime, i should get my head out of my ass, figure out how to write my damn book, make it great and take long walks and do something useful, like start volunteering again.

because maybe instead of prematurely opening a fresh jar of fresh mayo, we should embrace the creepy orange-colored, sriracha mayo that life throws our way even though it looks toxic. 

and yes, this was my dinner. it's sauteed corn and tomatoes.
clearly, hormonal week does not creative dinners make.

embrace it because the spicy mayo weeks force you to look at more writers websites in one hour than you have in the whole previous month(s). they force you to finally get the damn 'blogspot' out of your website name. embrace them, because even as you do, you will remember that all weeks aren’t hormonal. that good writing weeks are ahead along with the high that will come when you nail that elusive creepy 1940's voice you're going for.

just take my advice. don’t over embrace the spicy mayo of life (see above photo). it will give you a terrible stomachache which won’t be corrected by eating a whole row of Double Stuf'd Oreos.

also? if anyone has any guardian angel writing connections that might help, i'm seriously all ears.

doing without

there's no nice way to say it.

blogger is being a dick.

it won't let me post pictures. so imagine my annoyance when yesterday i decided to crack open the fortune cookie that's been sitting on my kitchen counter for over a week convinced that it was my perfect fortune for right that second and the cookie said: One door closes and another opens, and I laughed out loud because it was so perfectly true and i thought, i'll post a picture of the fortune on my blog with a quirky one sentence line referencing Reading Rainbow and once again...BLOGGER WOULDN'T LET ME.

like i said, dick.

(okay. agreed. the language isn't at all appropriate for a YA market, but come on, 50 percent of us have them, and another 15 percent of us is (are?) one, so censors - tranquilo).

being the emotionally mature woman that i am, i know that every bump in the road is a personal affront against me, so naturally, last night my mind wandered to all the reasons blogger wouldn't post my pictures: maybe even blogger has something against my $45 a month cheapy smart phone and it was giving me a lesson in you get what you pay for. (when does bigger is better not apply? when it's talking about pixels) or maybe blogger is holding a grudge because i chose to keep the tacky wallpaper background for my blog and never upgraded to, i dunno, post-modern white.

but onward! like cream in coffee, who needs pictures on a blog? (um.... wait, i'm also out of cream?!) it works just as well without.

and now, my week in (non-pictorial) review.

maybe it's not a good thing to tell your hairdresser, screw it. let's use bleach on those roots and really lighten them up!! on the other hand, i always did want to have cartoon character yellow hair:

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yum yum...what's that you're eating? why it's an ice cream cone of sushi:

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guess where i might be going this weekend? one word, weeeeeeee:

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okay. fine. blogging doesn't work as well without pictures. not at all. just as my cup of coffee right now is really, very disgusting without cream. but that doesn't change the fact that my fortune cookie was true. when one door closes, as is my case these past few weeks, about a THOUSAND open. and life becomes so wonderful, you don't even give a darn when web platforms that are supposed to be simplifying your life and making you accessible to the world, decide instead to act like a dickhead.

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yup. that's how she ended that one.

first draft summer

my newly acquired from
clothing swap, very tiny, thinking cap.

how many times in life do we begin something completely new?

maybe you move twenty times? you start only a handful of long term romantic relationships. you begin what, two dozen new jobs? over the course of a lifetime this isn't much. the biggest change - having kids - most of us only do 2.5 times. marriage? about the same. (oh my gosh, i'm kidding!)

maybe that's why change is so hard. the monumental fresh starts only come our way every so often.

if you're a writer, embarking on a new manuscript is no less epic. i will probably write around thirty books in my lifetime. still, embarking on a new one always comes as a surprise. first it's a spark of an idea, then a few words on the page. that one page quickly turns into twenty. it's around the fiftieth you know you have something. and it's right around then that you begin having commitment issues.

it's exactly like starting a new relationship. at first, it's golden. you love your new work. it can do no wrong. neither can you. imagine prairies with flowers, the two of you skipping through it. now imagine at page fifty you hear your manuscript use the bathroom for the first time.

no seriously. and i'm not talking peepee. i know you've had that moment, when you hear those noises and you think, wow. this must be serious. and suddenly you worry if you've made a good match. where this is going. if you actually want to be in this relationship (though very clearly you are).

if you're at all like me, when this happens, you call up a girlfriend and blather until you start to hear what an idiot you sound like. in my case, the girlfriend was Lauren Morrill.

Meant to Be on sale November 13!
woot!

Lauren and i met last year around this time through this very blog. and thanks to BEA, we met in person two weeks ago. lunch turned into wandering nyc, turned into coffee, turned into sitting in the park watching a hawk eat things, turned into folk singers arriving and Lauren and i fleeing. and through it all, there was constant gabbing.

somewhere in the middle of gabbing about books, writing styles, movies, boston, new york, we came up with the idea to embark on another new beginning together -- First Draft Summer.

two ladies. two ideas. two lightly begun manuscripts. one summer to finish a first draft. GO!

because here's the other thing about new beginnings. at first it's amazing, but sooner than later, you want to get it over. the: yay! we're moving to a new apartment! quickly turns into why aren't these frickin' boxes unpacked? the: omg i had a baby! turns into: why aren't you five and able to speak and do things on your own yet (or you know, so i've heard). the: i could listen to this man talk for a lifetime, turns into honey, hurry up and finish your damn story (which you've already told me...twice) and let's figure out what's for dinner.

same with a new novel. at first it's wonderful, but no sooner is it begun than you wish someone could rip it out of your head and smack it down whole on the page and let you work with the bloody mess from there. because while it can be fun tripping upon plot elements as you're walking down the street, it's less fun trying to make them happen while your brain is fuzzy from too much coffee or knowing that this is the next scene you need to write: Two Girls Talk About the Drama, but that it will take you roughly two days to get the five pages down with quality dialogue, place and physical descriptors and forward moving plot.

yup. thus was created First Draft Summer.

join us! (because aren't i making it sound like fun?) for Lauren and me it means we're emailing each other pages once or twice a week to keep up the motivation. but your First Draft Summer can look like anything.

the question is, what do you want to bring into creation?

a new recipe? a new trip to a new beach, (i wrote new not nude, but ZaZing! that could be a fun first.) either way, grab a friend and create something this summer! and then check back in and let me know how it goes.

another great friend once told me, we only get one little life.

so why not fill it with lots of fresh starts?

power up, woman

these edits are murder. considering my subject matter, i'm only half kidding. i was supposed to go in and fix one end chapter and tweak a plot point in the middle. i told my agent i could have the revised manuscript to her on friday. today, my entire manuscript is, while i wouldn't call it "in shreds," i would say heavily, severely frayed.

i've complained and dragged my heels over every revision thus far (my agent loves me, you betcha) but this one is seriously the worst. no for reals this time. i spent all yesterday talking to myself.

corrie, you've been here before. and it'll come to you girl, just be patient, you're so close. and you know these revisions always pay off. and seriously, corrie, stop napping, wake up and write the damn thing already!

around 9:00 last night i went to the gym. i needed to climb some stairs (and apparently watch a tv show about butchering animals). on the way home, i made up a little song that went like this: i can do this. i can do this. i can do this. it doesn't matter how you sing it. it goes to just about any tune.

did i mention i'm in the midst of some kind of massive allergy attack? it's like my brain and nasal cavities are stuffed with styrofoam.

but today i am THINKING POSITIVE. i am TREATING MY WORK LOVINGLY because it only gets one debut and it should be tippy-top perfect. i am AVOIDING ALL MY EMAILS. i am DRINKING COFFEE and FRESH GRAPEFRUIT JUICE. i am USING THE CAPS LOCK BUTTON IN EXCESS.

i'm also taking inspiration from YAK films ("YAK is a production team of young filmmakers dedicated to youth-led multimedia production which provides a voice for resistance and an alternative to played-out mainstream media.") and these two ladies because what it all comes down to is...

I am woman.

I am creative and strong.

And I'm gonna kick this revisions ass...

erm, maybe slightly behind deadline.

it's begun. i'm on the last edit of my manuscript.

after an hour and a half talk with my agent yesterday, i moved to the stage in the process of my writing, where i diagram the entire novel and sloppily tape it to my wall. it's only towards the end of working on a manuscript that i feel like i need to see the whole thing laid out. over the course of the next few weeks other slips of paper will accumulate on my grungy white wall as well. character notes. bits of dialogue that came to me at work and are written on receipts and napkins. transcribed text messages i sent myself so i wouldn't forget brilliant such-and-such idea on the bus.

i love this stage.

when i think about it, i love every stage of writing. i could just as easily say: what's better than starting a new work? the wide open palate, when your characters are full of possibility and even you don't know what's going to happen.

but truly, there's nothing like being so close to the end (okay, maybe actually being finished and on submission is best). right now, the balance of my book, how amazing it is or not, is all up to me. it's the last edit that lets you knock socks off or lets you barely make a splash and get roundly rejected. the last edit is all about finesse. it's about how much you want this. how much you can extend yourself creatively to unlock that "it" factor that makes a book memorably great and hopefully publishable. everything rides on the last edit.

intense, right?

so this is where i'll be for the foreseeable future. riding the emotional THIS WILL BE THE BEST BOOK EVER / I *sob* CAN'T *sob* DO THIS wave of final edits. blog posts will be shorter. some days they might not come at all (am i the only person who regularly blogs three times a week? why, corrie, why do you do these things to yourself?)

so wish me luck. or better yet, wish me getting it just right.

time is on my side

the weird thing about returning from lots of time spent doing nothing, is remembering what you used to do with your time spent doing nothing before you left on vacation. it's the epitome of the start of a new season and thinking, what the heck did i wear last year?

luckily, when i returned from Spain (please elongate the 'A' and let your voice dip in a snotty New England accent at the end, otherwise you aren't pronouncing it correctly), i almost immediately went on a mini-family vaca to Tampa to visit my grandpa.

but now i'm back. no more vacations in sight.

in Spain right now, i'd be drinking cafe con leche and eating something delicious. in nyc right now, i'm in pajamas, staring at my computer, drinking coffee and mindlessly eating cookies.

in Spain, i was special. i was a blonde celestial being who's every flick of hair and oh so coy-ness *stumble on the cobblestones* caught los hombre's attention. no, seriously, Spanish men don't see blondes. it's a fact. so me walking down the street was as if they were seeing a big, fat, golden goose for the first time ever. meanwhile, here in nyc, i can barely get the eye scanner on my apartment building to meet my eye. (huh? what? i know, nothing in that last sentence is true, but what a metaphor!).

so yesterday, i decided to: Get Some Work Done.

i wrote down ideas and dialogue for my new book...for twenty minutes. then i did these things:

baked oatmeal cookies
ate cookies
gardened
ate cookies
fixed dinner
watched Pretty Little Liars for the first time (but only as market research)
watched another episode of Pretty Little Liars ('cause, erm, one just wasn't enough)
played TowerMadness
ate cookies
read a few blogs
got blog envy (i mean seriously, Lauren Morrill, your posts are funny, filled with great pics, and relevant to YA. they don't all babble about what the heck you're doing with this life. ahem, corrie.)

if i learned anything from yesterday, it was that i have TOO MUCH TIME on my hands. a normal adult doesn't need four days off in a row. even if she thinks she'll whip out five novels at a time, mostly, she'll write the same amount as she always does and then feel restless.

it was while i was hyper-linking to Lauren's blog this morning that i read her post about making the switch to full-time workage. i'm starting to ponder the same move. or a move. because if i learned one thing from Spain (did you say it right this time?) it's that life is fun, surprising, active and inspiring...when you make it that way.

so, um, anyone know of a fun job for me? or maybe do you just want to go to lunch today?

saw this the first day i was back. seemed about right.

casa dolce casa

want to see what three years without any serious time off from work looks like?

this:

a few weeks after this picture was taken, a friend quit her job and asked me if i wanted to travel with her to Spain. the economy is in the crapper, i thought. what right do i have to the self-indulgence of a long vacation? then i remembered the above face (who needed to remember it, i wore it half the time), and said Vamonos.

a month later, it was holllllla Espana.

this is my highlight reel:

our neighborhood in Barcelona had butterflies strung up everywhere for a local festival. the supermarkets sold wine for as little as 65 cents. they even had wine juice boxes.

in Barcelona there's a huge outdoor market. it's called la Bocheria. it's unlike any farmer's market that the States has. it's filled with every imaginable fresh vegetable, egg, meat, and fruit.



emu eggs

they even sold those fish that have both eyeballs on one side of their face.

in every city we went, there was a festival happening.

each city has their own giant people and animals that they carried through the streets on parade day.

no, they don't carry a giant corrie head. that's me!

if live music is played, all the old people in the crowd link hands and commence a twenty minute dance that involves lots of hopping and swaying. they even have special shoes for it.

in Barcelona horses hang out on balconies.

maybe because they're drunk.

people drink all the time in Spain. at la Bocheria, we sat next to a man that was having a beer with his breakfast pastry. at 8:30 in the morning. me? i waited...wait for it...until at least 11:30 to have a beer. before then drinking was reserved for cafe con leche.

i've never had so much espresso. scratch that. i've never had so much mind-numbingly, pick me up, served in a tall class or a short cup, freakin-delicious espresso.

in Barcelona, i learned that Spain Spanish is very different than Latin American Spanish in one primary way. never mind the whole "c" as "th" pronunciation thing. in Spain, tortilla doesn't mean something-to-eat taco-fixin's-out-of. it means gooey egg and potato dish that's served in the morning and then pretty much for the rest of the day.

Spanish lesson learned and heartily partaken in, next up, it was the resort town of San Sebastian.

fabulous San Sebastian. where the tapas are laid out on the bars starting around 10 am. it was the most vacationy of our vacation days. i spent a lot of time on the beach.

for the first time in my life, my bosoms saw the sun. (i'll spare you the picture.) i also got in my first scuffle.

coming out of the ocean, feeling good, and channelling my best bo derek impersonation (look her up, kids), i noticed the tide quickly pulling away from me. i wonder what happens next? was my last thought before i found out that this happens: the water comes back in the form of a GIANT FREAKIN' WAVE.

tumbling underwater washing machine style, i was dragged and thrown back ashore, sputtering, with my swim suit bottoms around my ankles.

i quickly crawled back into the surf, pulled my trunks up (only to realize when i was back on land that they contained 5 pounds of sand) and tried to wash the smeared make-up off my face. when i returned to our beach towels, my friend took one look at me and said, "what happened to you? and how come you were lying on the sand over there?"

i was still washing sand out of my hair five days later. lesson learned? don't fight with the ocean. it will win.

anyhoo, in San Sebastian there's more Michelin three-star restaurants than anywhere else in the world. since i was travelling with a chef, not trying one wasn't an option. the restaurant we chose was called Akilera. it was a short cab ride outside the city. since we'd be spending the equivalent of a night's worth of work to eat there, big time spenders that we are, we took the bus.

my friend's google map said the restaurant was a short hike up a mountain from the bus stop. we ascended. walked higher, saw some cows.

we walked higher. then higher uphill, no, up mountain. forty minutes in and ten minutes until our reservation time, my friend asked: what if the restaurants not there?

it will be, i panted.

she checked a different map. the restaurant was back by the bus stop. we ran. i tried to hitch hike. everyone kept shaking there heads and wagging their fingers at us. when we got the restaurant -- sweaty, flustered -- we sat right across from the same people who wouldn't give us a lift.

the meal lasted 4.5 hours. the waiter took us on a tour of the kitchen. it was sublime.



peaches served three ways.

we decided we needed to see wine country.

the capital of wine country in Rioja is Haro. we expected greenery, vineyards, quaint architecture, cobbled streets. instead we landed in the armpit of Spain. lesson? if you're going to buy a guide book, read it before you plan a day trip. Haro: This unattractive capital of Rioja... mine read.

we also met The Snobbiest Toronto Man Alive. when he asked us about accommodations in San Sebastian and i started to tell him about our awesome hostel, he cut me off with a I'm past the point in my life where i need to stay in hostels.

um okay. you asked. dick. then he made me taste his wine.

it wasn't all bad though. i mean, there was wine. (not previously drunk by a fuddy-duddy). and pretty cute bodegas serving it.

maybe there was too much wine.

we left northern Spain for southern.

i never knew Spain had been through so much upheaval. right from the start, one civilization wiped out another from the Phoenicians, to the Romans, to the Muslims. mosques were turned into churches. entire Jewish neighborhoods were slaughtered and repaved. in the 1930's there was a civil war. Franco took over. up until the 1970's women didn't have their own passports, they had to be on their husbands. and while the architecture was incredibly beautiful...

i swear, that chaotic, bloody history is still in the air because southern Spain is WEIRD.

paparazzi-style, a man took photos of me with his giant-lensed camera while i was sitting in a cafe. i got into an argument with a gypsy, and a few hours later a mysterious scratch appeared on my cheek. and the gelato is made with black magic. it must be, because it's so evilly good.

but as much as southern Spain gave me the creeps, it was stunning. you turn a corner and BAM! giant cathedral. or stuff like this guy. erm. cover your eyes kids.

we went dancing until 5 a.m. ate lots of tapas (they come free with purchase of a beverage) and went to the Alhambra. it's Spain's answer to the Taj Mahal.

then it was back to Barcelona (actually, first we stayed with a friend of a friend and slept in his bar) and then it was back to Barcelona for a last meal of scorching hot peppers and patatas bravas, a few more beers and yet another night of absolutely no sleep in a hostel --it's so hot in here, it's like dying, said the male bunk mate across from me. next an 8 hour flight with the gaping mouth guy snoring on my shoulder the whole way and i'm home.

it's weird being back. i'm changed, yet i've returned to a place where my life is the same.

but i found my happy. somewhere between the nude sunbathing and Spanish word confusions -- fyi Quisiera una bolsa de crema, does not mean, I'd like a cream bomba (local pastry) it means I'd like a cream bag -- i found this girl:

the one who's inside the one who used to make that other face. because i realized *ahem* that i'm past the point in my life when i make that unhappy face and don't try to do something about changing it. so maybe next time don't wait three years to do a little travelling when it makes you feel this good. and you, too, out there, don't put off being good to yourself. 'cause i'm here to tell you, doing nice, soul-expanding, completely self-indulgent things for yourself? it makes you feel happy. who would have thunk it?

yes, all together now, no duh, corrie! everyone thunk it. happiness and rejuvenation are the whole point of a va-ca-tion.

it's also the point of espresso.

hola everyone! it's good to see you again.

jet plane

i'm leavin'.

tomorrow at this time i'll...well, i'll probably be exactly where i am right now -- in front of my computer. but tomorrow this time plus six hours, i'll be at the airport... headed to Spain!

i'm not the kind of person that gets really really excited about travelling (or doing much of anything) until it's right in front of me. so while by tomorrow plus six hours, i'll be squealing and ecstatic, right now, i'm mainly thinking about packing.

i'm only taking a small carry on with me, plus one personal item (ie a decent size tote bag).

packing clothes for two weeks into something the size of a large lunch box leads to all kinds of fun what-to-save-from-the-fire dilemmas. so far i've ditched:

• the second pair of pajama bottoms. if mine get grubby, i'll be showering in the morning anyway.
• the little towel i was going to bring in case the hostels didn't provide them. um, that's not likely. and if i have to pay for towels. so be it.
• the butterfly dress. garh! no. not the butterfly dress! but it's bulky and has cap sleeves, which lends itself to only being worn, like, once. 

what this leaves me with are:
2 dresses (one for day. one for evening. booyah!)
1 pajama bottom
2 sleep t-shirts
1 long pair of pants
a few shirts long and short sleeved
a bathing suit

the biggest dilemma (still ongoing at the time of this writing) is footwear.

do i, A. wear the fabulous new cowboy boots i just found at my local thrift store that kinda press down in odd places -- who knew the top of your foot could hurt -- but would look fabulous with both dresses and my one pair of pants?

why hello, you sexy little things.

or do i B. wear the kick around boots that don't have a describable color anymore (hmm...why they're kind of an ehh) and couldn't even stand up right for the picture?

wah-wah.

i know. i know. go with comfort. plus i imagine having to ask the guard at the security check point for help pulling off the cowboy boots (something i've had to do everytime i've worn them so far, not the guard, but you know, a friend) and that about ruins the illusion of me ho-downing it around Spain.

now after printing out itineraries, buying tickets to Alhambra and cleaning my entire apartment, i'll be ready to go. a friend warned me to be careful in Barcelona. that it's not such a safe city. but i figure if anyone tries to mug me, i'll throw a guide book at them. i have plenty to spare.

yes, for the record, books out number shirts i'm bringing.
i <3 books.

though i wish i could take you all with me -- especially my mama, sisters and well, all you ladies -- you know what sometimes happens when you travel with friends, and i don't want to risk losing you. i'll be gone from the blog for these next two weeks.

until my return (and always and forever thereafter) stay safe everyone. have some fun. and enjoy.

and really, what do you think, should i just take the butterfly dress anyway?

a step

on Monday i received an email telling me that Google was taking the ads off my blogs. apparently, there had been too much unlawful clicking.

what can i say? people who love me in Buffalo are really interested in online degrees.

the day i received the email i was bummed. i'd dropped a shift at work so i could write more and this ad money would have been a nice, breath-easier supplement. but as i told a co-worker that night, i wasn't all that surprised.

i never buy lotto tickets. my birthday scratch-offs are always duds. i can never play along with the question "what would you do if you won a million dollars?" because i've always been certain i'd never secure my future through luck. (and apparently not through unlawful clicks either). i've always known the only way i'd get anywhere is through lots of hard work.

or at least hopefully i'd get somewhere. because so far, i was still just here.

later that same evening, something exciting happened. after work, i had a voicemail! (seriously, nothing like working eight hours to glance at your phone and see that nobody thought of you the whole time.) even better than that, the voicemail was from Chelsea at SCBWI. she had some good news.

guess who won the SCBWI 2011 WIP Grant for Contemporary YA Fiction sponsored by Amazon?

MEEEEEEE! i did. this un-photogenic but genuinely happy girl:

does this mean my book is certain to be published? no. does this mean my future is secure? heck no. but it does mean that for the very first time in my writing life, hard work has paid off. and that feels better than a lotto win (okay, lets say better than a small lotto win).

it feels indescribably, take a deep breath, laughing for no reason on the street, smiling like a lunatic at strangers, i've taken a tiny step towards somewhere, GREAT!

so thank you SCBWI. thank you Amazon. thank you unlawful clicker in Buffalo who's been lighting all those candles for months hoping that something nice like this would happen -- ie thank you mama. thank you my amazing crit partner for the fierce thoughtful reads. thank you my sisters for squealing with me. thank you my new awesome writer friend who's gotten me more twitter followers than i've gotten myself. thank you cafe bustello for all the jittery morning fuel you've provided. thank you agent who's been telling me i had a future this whole time. and thank you all my fabulous blog readers and commenters.

hopefully see you all on the publication side.

oh and well, i'll also see you Monday for my regular blog post. and for months and months and months before anything happens with The Secret Keepers.

but until then, since i'm a big believer in giving something back when you get something, come see me on Monday for a book giveaway! a good one. can you say Laini Taylor?

michael and me

i waited on michael stipe last night. you know, REM.

i usually don't mention anything like this on the blog. everyone should be allowed their privacy. plus once you wait on someone who's become well known, you realize how unexciting it is. they ordered food like everyone else?! no way! they were polite? they weren't? big deal. you deal with all versions of that every evening.

mostly you're left with the feeling that the most memorable part of so and so's day wasn't that you waited on them, so it's a little sad that the reverse is true.

but since mr. stipe was featured on apartment therapy where he showed the inside of his house, what's a little name dropping here? besides, the reason i mention him, isn't to mention him, it's because his visit left me thinking about fame, wealth, luck of the draw, and circumstances.

i think about those things anyway when i'm stuck. i mean, this was the line i waited in to see Harry Potter.

this was ticketed people, mind you, arriving early for a good seat. (i'm happy to say i was far ahead in the line, haHa!) so as i'm amidst this giant line, i can't help thinking: man, JK hit it out of the park. and when i go home, i'll still be struggling with my dramatic such and such scene at the end of my novel. which might or might not be the one that gets out there.

yesterday, i couldn't help thinking about all the other food michael stipe has eaten in his life. the delicious, the foreign, the french, the sublime, the street food. and i felt a little jealous, because i want to eat that food, but more than that, i want to have a reason to be in those other places eating that food.

yes. it does all come down to food for me.

you can't have thoughts like this living in NYC or you'll go nuts. last night i should have joined in the off-key singing of Losing My Religion with the other servers and left it at that.

but thanks to such thoughts, this week i'm forcing myself to apply for fellowships. even though the effort it takes to apply for one (where your chances of rejection are 99%) is about equal to the time it takes to write a book, because i don't think you need to be michael stipe to lead an interesting life. you need to be curious. you need to pry into the world. you need to live like you are michael stipe.

but maybe a little neater.

workin' the net

i've discovered a word that makes shivers run down my back. ready for it?

Networking.

blech.

my crit partner and i went to a meet/greet, social, party favors, in a bar, writers get together kind of thing last night. obviously a lot of hard work went into it. so i'm not going to say it was awful.

what? i said i wasn't going to say it.

sorry. i don't want to sound unkind. there wasn't anything wrong with the event. it was lovely.

but why do the networking things i've been to leave me feeling like the last kid picked on the dance floor? it's not like people aren't friendly. everyone is chatting and talking. outside of the event, i'm sure everyone is extra lovely.

maybe it's knowing that you're in a room full of people who wouldn't be there if they were where they'd like to be in their careers. hmm. yeah that could be it.

granted, every time i do a "social" function like this, i meet a few people who were worth the creepy yikes feeling of it all. which, i hear my agent patiently saying, is the whole point of it. so i did meet a few nice gals. one of whom is considering becoming a crit partner for me to constantly hyper-link.

all in all, it was a fine evening. i'm glad my writers org sponsored it and i'm glad i went. the weird feeling in my belly for the rest of the night was probably from the korean food and plum wine crit parter and i consumed afterwords. not the social event.

you're smiling now, corrie. give it a few hours.

i just can't wait for the day when my life more resembles this:

laughing teenagers who squeal when they see me because they've followed my musical career since they were babies read my book. then we all dance together. that day will come. right?

mebbe not?

how 'bout just the a teenager reads my book part?

okay and the dancing part, too. please? gracias.

that's right. two butterflies. they were just, um, hanging out on the lamp post, but took to the sky as soon as i snapped a picture. i rather prefer them like this. perhaps because i feel a little out of focus myself.

my WIP, that i adore, is looking like a wet shirt that sat balled up in a corner for a month. i've been here before and i know it will iron itself out, but that doesn't mean it's much fun. or that my general mindset hasn't been: ARGH!

(you've been here before, corrie. it will be fine).

on a happy note: my pops is in town and the next few days will involve much visiting, train taking, sight seeing, eating, and fun.

but first i'm off to do a little more grunt (literally) work on this WIP. because just like those butterflies, as delicate as they look, they're not stopping until they get the job done. and yes, booyah, that is how you link a writing analogy to a picture of butterflies having sex.

happy wednesday, everyone!

** when i meant, get to work, i really meant: check my twitter and facebook for a while. which is where i found this terrific video that PAPER LANTERN LIT posted on their blog. i can't help it. i need to post it as well. thanks guys, for the inspiration!

how much weight can you carry?

something is in the air in newyorkcity.

do you ever get that sense about where you live? that something is just up? my own writerly mood swings aside, this felt like a week of monumental living. parents went into the hospital for long overdue treatments. people left and shifted jobs. lots more people seemed to up and move out of state. family members were (still are) struggling to be together after years of separation. babies were born. 

i have a friend who got in a fight this week. a fight! half his face looks like the elephant man. i had to close one eye and hold up a hand to block out the damaged side when i spoke to him. worse than the bloated disgustingness and bright red eye was imagining someone wailing on him to create it.

i have a terrible memory. i don't remember song titles or who wrote what, never mind the name of the person i met two minutes ago, but i'll always remember the sage advice that came at the end of Tom Robbin's novel, Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates. the story follows a man who's looking for a yogi who's figured out the meaning of life. it turns out that the yogi is a parrot, but his wisdom?

PEOPLE OF ZEE WORLD RELAX!

that's right. deep breaths everyone. it's friday. also, speaking of words of wisdom, have you seen this article about fiction writing advice from lots of famous authors? no? here t'is:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/feb/20/ten-rules-for-writing-fiction-part-one

this is supposed to be my BEA recap blog. and it is. but it ain't easy seeing big bruised faces. so this will also be my: Ain't Life Also Grand Blog, which will end with a tiny picture of Jacques Torres.

but first, three little letters. BEA.

that's right, BookExpoAmerica came to NYC this week. think the auto show, but with books, famous authors, and lots of little conference tables where people in suits are having important looking conversations. fine. it's nothing like the auto show, but it is held at the same place. and the best distinction? for only the cost of a really expensive ticket, you get to leave with loads of books that haven't been officially published yet. like this one:

get it? he's a jani-TOR. awesome.

now you might be asking, yes, but for the price of a very expensive ticket, exactly how many free books do you get to leave with? well, this many:

even better? some of these books are signed! so this week i met Harlan Coben, who said, HI THERE! in a booming voice, and i said in a teeny voice, hi i'm corrie.

i also met Lauren Oliver, who i can no longer secretly envy and despise. for those of you who aren't YA fanatics. Lauren Oliver wrote a compulsively, must keep reading even though my house is on fire book called Before I Fall. she's part of/creator of a book packaging company in Brooklyn and she's pretty and young and apparently likes shoes, which means she probably has awesome ones. (though not my hot granny green ones, i'll bet ya, so booyah).

now anyone that knows corrie (ugh, there's that 3rd person self-reference again) knows that she can get a little competitive. so when i saw LO signing books, my first thought was, pfft. so what? i'm not waiting in her line. but then the geeky corrie who loves to read and truly admires this author won out, snuck into the line at the last minute, and got the last copy of Delirium.

and you know what? Lauren Oliver, was really, really nice. and after my horrible-my WIP is never going to be published-what does it all mean-WHY AM I HERE-week this is what she wrote:

thanks for being here. i know she meant BEA. but i chose to read it as thanks for being here in NYC. here in the YA world. just here. sigh. isn't Lauren Oliver the greatest?

now that i'm fully coming off as psycho (i mean, who has friends that get in fights?), let me just say that though free books are great, they're also very heavy. what started as BEA wild eyed awe and book grabbing greed turned into two tote bag dragging, why the hell did i wear my hot, granny shoes to this thing? exhaustion.

so my awesome crit parter, um, borrowed us some sandwiches from an exhibitors table:

and then i tottered/trudged the heck out of there.

couldn't be there? don't worry, you didn't miss much. truly. eventually, all these books will be coming to a bookstore or library near you. even the not-yet-copy-edited-ARC i have of Jay Asher's new book. mwahahaha. or i'll hold one of those contests and send you a copy.

and although BEA was great (as was hip hop class that same evening), in some ways, yesterday was better.

i started writing again. with no struggle or breaks. it felt marvelous. in the evening i met my friend at the brooklyn museum for a movie. while i waited for her, i watched a high school marching band practice on the museum steps. i shot a video, which of course didn't come out. but the band was awesome. dressed in sweats and tees, they danced, hopped, and shouted stuff -- we are the tuba section, WHAT! while three teeny little girls got down in front and put my hip hop class to shame.

then it was inside to the movie, Kings of Pastry. which i think is airing on PBS tonight. if so, watch it! it was phenomenal. and only in NYC, where people apparently still get in fights, struggle to reconnect with their family, leave jobs and move out of state on seeming whims, does Jacques Torres come to sit in on a movie screening and answer questions at the end. see? he's the tiny blob on the far right:

so here's to hoping the air clears up this week. here's to healthier living. here's to free books and to people of zee world relax.

also, here's to you, my friends and blog readers. thank you for being here.