Brodi Ashton's Blog, page 22

February 14, 2011

It's been a while since we've had a visit from the snarky question maker, so I've invited him here today. 





Since he lives in the void between rainbows and shooting stars, it was difficult to get him a message, but I managed to secure myself an owl with the head of a unicorn, and as everyone knows, the owlcorn can fly to the edge of the void and then use his spiky horn to break through. 





No, I haven't been sleeping much. Why do you ask?





Anyway, moving on to the Q&A transcript.





Question-Maker: Hey, Bro. It's good to be back. 





me: Good to have you back.





QM: Lemme go over my notes here... see what I've missed... whoa wait. It says here you got a new fish?





me: Yes.



Shadow: little does he know he's almost dead.
QM: Why do you hate fish so much? 





me: This time it will be different! How hard can it be to keep a Betta Fish alive?





QM: That's what you said five fish ago. 





me: It's Sam's fault. Moving on.





QM: Let's see... You got a new computer?





me: Yes. Her name is Pink. Here's her baby picture.



Pink. Yes, my study is always that messy.




QM: How do you know your computer's a girl?





me: Because when she was lost, she asked for directions. (snicker snicker)





QM: You're still cracking yourself up, I see. Did you know you're like the 6 billionth person to tell that joke?





me: There are only six billion people on the planet.





QM: Exactly. Moving on. You just finished your 4th round of revisions. Isn't that, like, a lot? 





me: I don't know. I've never done this before. But it's okay, because there's just one more line revision, and then it's off to copyedits!





QM: And then it will be done?





me: Um, no. Then there are the first pass pages. 





QM: And THEN it's done?





me: Um, I don't know. I think there might be second pass pages.





QM (pauses): Are you making up this whole "publishing dream" thing? I mean, next year are you going to be telling us you're on the 92nd pass pages?





me: No! It will one day be a book. I swear! Just ask the Germans. They recently had an auction for my book! 





QM: Ah. Herzlichen Glückwunsch!





me: Hals- und Beinbruch! 





QM: Did you just tell me to go break my arm and my leg? 

me: *crickets*

QM: Try to acquire a little German before you offend a nation.

me: I once acquired a little German. He was awesome.

QM: Where's my unicowl? I think I'm ready to leave.

me: He prefers owlcorn, just so you know...

Ah, it's always a treat (and a blow to the ego) to have the question-maker. So, what did y'all do over the weekend? Anyone have fun Valentine's plans? Anyone have questions to add to the question-maker? 

One last thing... Happy Valentine's Day! Will you (yes, you) be my Valentine?[image error]
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Published on February 14, 2011 10:28 • 6 views

February 11, 2011

It's time for... 



Thing #1 and Thing #1!





Thing #1





My dad started his chemo yesterday. 



My dad, my mom, and my sister. And Jerry Sloan retiring on the television.

And Mr. McDrippy Drip in my Dad's arm. 
Unfortunately, I had popped out for a diet coke when the juice actually started flowing. I was so bummed I didn't get to bellow: "Unleash Hell!"





My dad reassured me that he gave the battle cry, but I'm not sure I believe him. Nobody else in the infusion room was giving us strange looks, and strange looks are a sure sign of spontaneous battle cries.





Oh well. There's always next week. 





Did I mention that one of his chemo drugs is named "5 F-U"? Awesome. 





As a side note, we've been trying to limit our f-bomb usage. We figured people who are asking for miracles shouldn't be spouting the f-bomb right and left. But our replacement name for the tumor- the "Mother Yucker"- lacks a certain panache.    





Thing #1





We were driving in the car the other day, when Kid C says, "Hey! It's Grandpa! Is that Grandpa's store?"





We craned our necks to see what he was referring to. It was this:



I asked Kid C why he thought Colonel Sanders was Grandpa. His response: "He's got white hair... he's got glasses... he has a beard."





I guess I can see it.

So, what are y'all doing this weekend? I turned my latest revisions in yesterday, and pretty soon the book is going to copyedits. We're one step closer! In the hundred step process to getting a book published.

I'm also thinking of going to the Breathless Reads book tour at the SLC Library tomorrow at 2:00 p.m.  Five awesome YA authors in one place? Sign me up! Anyone else going?[image error]
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Published on February 11, 2011 10:25 • 10 views

February 9, 2011

My family's moved from total grief mode to total fight mode. And it looks a little like this.







That's how the French Revolution really looked. Eventually, they were all, "Instead of singing so much, we should've learned how to fire these rifle thingees."

Because as we all know, it was their obsession with theatrics that quashed the rebellion. 
Any time we're sitting around for a length of time, we can't help climbing on top of whatever object is near us- a chair, a table, the chandelier- and we wave our latest CAT scan and say something like:





"Never give up! Never surrender!"





"They may take our lungs, but they will never take... our other organs!"





We were all at the hospital yesterday because my dad was getting a port surgically implanted. (It's like a picc line, but under the skin, near the clavicle). It will be easy access for the chemo infusions.





While he was in surgery, my mom and I were in the waiting room. She was reading a book about survivors, and I was working on my revisions. (They're due tomorrow.)





About every other minute, one of us would interrupt the other (okay, it was mostly her interrupting me) to share an inspiring story of victory in the face of incredible odds. 





And then the fighting spirit really took over and every word out of our mouths sounded like a battle cry, so much so that when the nurse came to speak to us, we answered by bellowing... "NO! Our bellies cannot stand idly by drying out... we WILL have another CRANBERRY JUICE! Tell me, do you hear the people sing? They are asking for that special crunchy ice only hospitals have! Now... MAKE... IT... SO!"





No, they were not relieved when we left. Why do you ask?





My dad is home again now, recovering and hopped up on pain meds. In fact, that's the best part. To see this quiet, serious physician all loopy on Loritab. 





For example, on my latest revisions, the main goal is to delete pages. This morning, my dad asked me how many pages I'd "delinquished." 





me: "Huh?"





Him: "How many pages have you delinquished... I mean, diminished..."





Me: smiling as he tries to search for the word "deleted". It was awesome. 





I admit, I'm loopy too. I kept telling the doctors: "When are we going to surgically implant a woman in his port?"





and then when they'd look at me questioningly, I'd say, "Isn't it customary to have a woman in every port?" And then I'd laugh maniacally and slap the doctor's shoulder. I looked like this:









Nobody ever laughed with me. But I say it's better to face these things with a loopy brain.





Anyway, tomorrow we are at the infusion center to start the chemotherapy. I can't wait for the nurse to insert the IV so that I can bellow: "On my command... UNLEASH HELL!"[image error]
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Published on February 09, 2011 10:05 • 11 views

February 7, 2011

My dad's cancer is back.





I hesitated to blog about this, because believe it or not, there are some aspects of my life that I prefer to keep private.





But to blog three times a week, pretending like this isn't going on, would be pointless. So rather than quitting my blog entirely, I have to blog about it. There are only so many times Sam can fill in by saying, "Brodi's attending to family business" without people getting suspicious something is wrong, or assuming I've run off with the Italian mob. 





Over three years ago, my dad was diagnosed with pancreas cancer, even though he had none of the risk factors. He was/is a young, healthy, non-smoker, non-drinker. At the time, he wasn't even eligible for Medicare.





We were told there is only one chance for cure with this disease. To cut it out. And with that, you get only one shot to cut it out. There are no do-overs.





Then, all you can do is live life, and hope it doesn't come back. We cut my dad's cancer out, and for three years, it didn't come back.





Three years is just enough time for a person to become comfortable in the idea that maybe, he will dodge this bullet. Three years is long enough for my dad to become a practicing pediatrician again. Three years is just long enough for the chance of recurrence to drop below 50%. Three years is a "miracle".





But sometimes, even miracles hit road blocks. Last week, they found some spots in his lungs. They said it would be incredibly rare if the pancreas cancer returned in the lungs first. It was normal for it to come back in the abdomen, the liver, the pancreas, the colon... but not the lungs.





Of course, my dad lives to be rare! On Wednesday, we got the news it was cancer. And not lung cancer, which would've been better news, but metastatic pancreas cancer.





They have no idea where those little pancreas cells were hiding out, and for so long, but hide they did.





I admit the news dealt a blow to me and my little family. My sister, my mom, my dad and I have always been a tight foursome. We live within 2 miles of each other. We are frequent lodgers in each others houses. We pass around the grandkids like they belong to all of us.





When my dad was first diagnosed, we joked about how close we'd become. We travelled to each doctor's appointment together. We likened ourselves to a blood clot, because we stuck together. And now we're here again. Clotting up. 





I hope you will put up with me during this time. I'm warning you now, I've already become a little crazy.





For instance: Sometimes when doctors say, "To be honest, this treatment would be for the good of science only," I want to punch these doctors.





Sometimes when acquaintances say, "Oh well, we're at that age where we lose our parents," I want to say, "You may be at that age, but I'm not." My dad lost his own mom only three years ago. My dad is at that age. I'm not.





Sometimes I envy friends who are estranged from their dads. Sometimes I'm sure life would be so much easier if we could love each other a little less.





Sometimes, I watch the news, and I'm surprised when the anchor does not mention my dad, and this strange new crack that has suddenly appeared in the earth.





Sometimes, I wonder why a total internal organ transplant is not a viable option. Sometimes I want to punch the people who tell me it's not. But then I laugh, because sometimes I love to disprove the theory that there are no stupid questions. 





Sometimes my urge for violence surprises even me.





Sometimes, I see old people, and I wonder, "What did they do that we aren't doing? Why is growing old so easy for them?"





Sometimes, I see strangers on the street, and I can't help wishing it was their dad who would have to go through this, and not mine.





Yes, I'm that angry and crazy.





But it's the crazy people who make the best fighters, and I'll tell you it doesn't come any crazier than my family. We're going to fight. 





It's rare to find an effective chemotherapy regimen for pancreas cancer. But then again, my dad lives to be rare. (see above).  We're going to shed the naysayers like dead cancer cells. We're going to fight the tumors with everything we've got, and when the cancer adapts and mutates to become resistant, we'll find something else to throw at it, even if it's the kitchen sink. I always hated my kitchen sink. I am not afraid to throw it.





And we're going to party.





Who's with me?



Erin, my dad and me at the Huntsman Cancer Institute
p.s. Thank you to all of you who have dropped me notes, texts, random plates of cookies, phone messages... I know I haven't gotten back to any of you, but please know that I appreciate your love and support. 





Sometimes, even when I think I'm okay, I go to talk to someone and that person says something nice and I start crying and then it's like five hours later and I'm still crying. I'm a little thermonuclear right now, but I want you to know the kindness is very much appreciated.[image error]
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Published on February 07, 2011 08:55 • 16 views

February 4, 2011

Brodi will not be posting today.  She's had some unexpected family things come up that she needs to attend to.  She begged me not to post on her blog today.  I pleaded with her to allow me to...I won!  She said as long as I don't show any pictures of me shirtless, in bicycle shorts or in a fedora, I could post here.



I wanted to go through some of the latest happenings in our house.  Boy C is rocking it in 2nd grade and he is is always thinking...the other day, he wanted to go over to his friend Z's house.  I told him he could but he needed to come home at 6pm.  He stopped, looked at me and said, 'Sam, its better if you call over there at 6pm, I have too much going on in my head to remember what time to be home. Bye.'



I bought a new Betta fish.  Yeah, I know what you are saying 'You are the stupidest person alive.'  Why?  Because we kill Betta fish and we don't know why.  Here is our history   Well, Brodi was out of town and I decided to give it another go...Shadow is our new lovely fish.   I sat down with the bosses at our local fish store and told them our long sordid history of killing fish.  I quickly learned that I should not take fish for a walk, feed them ground beef and that I should not give them a bath with soap and shampoo.  With this new knowledge, I feel like Shadow could live many, many days with us happily.





I thought about starting up the exercise program 'P90X.'  I would totally do it if it was just a lot easier.  Don't they realize how many people are not going to do their program because they make it so hard?  If they added donut breaks or reading breaks or just said 'Don't try so hard here, take it easy' then I would be much more inclined to go for it.  Oh well.  I guess I will have to just continue on with my "book reading, television watching and occasionally bust out a dance move" exercise routine. 





We have lived in some cold places with cold windy winters.  We have lived in Blackfoot, Idaho...Denver, Colorado...Washington DC...London, England...all terribly cold in the dead of winter but few things have prepared us for the past couple of days.  It was 'take away your breath' kind of cold.  My trusty 1974 Scout would not even start (but truthfully, the Scout doesn't like to start even on warm days...its picky on which days it likes to start and thats part of its 'charm').  But now it is a toasty 25 degrees...I have got my tanktop on and I am going to go out to enjoy the sun.



Brodi will be back on Monday.  Unless we can create enough of an uprising where the readers demand that I take over this blog immediately...yeah, even my mom thinks that is a bad idea.  Come back on Monday and enjoy the regular musings of Brodi.  Thanks![image error]
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Published on February 04, 2011 08:43 • 14 views

February 2, 2011

So, we made it to number 4 on my top 38 things in New York. I don't know why it takes me forever to complete lists. FOB Jenni Elyse pointed out in the comments Monday that it took me over two years to get through the "Top 25 Things About Me" list, and even then I only made it to #17. (I think the last one was "Sometimes I talk to inanimate objects.)

Anyway, moving on. 

5. I got to meet my editor, and the team at Balzer+Bray and HarperCollins.  a. Here's Kristin in her office. 

She's thinking "Someone take that girl's camera away!"
Kristin is a big deal. You can tell because she has a window, and I learned that windows in New York City are prime real estate. Windows are like gold. They are currency. As in, "That car will cost you an arm and a leg, or you can just gimme your window."

That's how New Yorkers negotiate. Most New Yorkers have to pay the arm and the leg, because everyone has an arm and a leg, but nobody has a window.

b. I also got to meet the Balzer (Alessandra) and the Bray (Donna). 

There are no pictures of them. Someone warned me that if I took a picture of Alessandra, she would make sure I'd never receive a window in any city. 

Despite the threat, they were both charming, and Alessandra delivered a kick-a speech the next day at the conference.

c. I met Kristin's right hand. I also met Sara Sargent, Kristin's assistant, and an editor in her own right. Rite? Wryte?



Sara and Kristin. My Book is in their hands.
Sara and I bonded over tennis (she played in college) and Rafa (she doesn't give me strange looks when I suddenly blurt stuff like, "I want to be his wedgie!")

d. I met the lone man on the Balzer+Bray HarperCollins team, Jordan Brown. 

This was very exciting. I wanted to take pictures, but I didn't want to scare The Man, because they are so rarely spotted in the wilds of the HarperCollins jungle.  I observed The Man for several long minutes, though, and was pleasantly surprised to learn his eating and drinking habits, and social customs, are very similar to mine.

I stole this from his Twitter account.
At the meet-and-greet, Michael and Jordan talked mostly to each other. And the rest of the girls mingled. It was like a junior high mixer.

e. I met so many other wonderful people on the sales, marketing, and publicity side.

I won't try to name them all, for fear that I'll leave someone out, and for bigger fear I won't keep all their names straight, and for biggest fear this list will be way too long.

Okay, on to number... Six? We're only on six? Who's idea was it to put alphabetical sub-numbers? 

6. Sara Zarr killed at her keynote speech. 



She was incredible, moving, entertaining, everything you want in a speech. She received a standing ovation for her words, and it was well deserved. I am honored to know her.

7. I got to hang with my niece Leena. 

That's us at Lombardi's Pizza, where the air is so thick with the smell of garlic that it's impossible to get a clear picture.

Just kidding. That picture was taken by a tourist who was intent on disproving the theory, "It's as easy as point and click!"

Later, we got to visit Leena in her natural habitat, the Manhattan School of Music.

She lives inside the school, in an incredibly messy dorm room. I found myself very jealous she gets to live this experience. It's just like Anna and the French Kiss! Although Leena assures me there is no french kissing going on. 

9. I learned what a Kentucky Brown ... something is. 

At lunch with Michael and Kristin, I saw a strange menu item called a Kentucky Brown something. I can't believe I can't remember the name. I'm thinking "Kentucky Brown Boy", but that can't be right, can it? I mean, that sounds a little... wrong. 

Anyway, the dish was a piece of brioche, with turkey and bacon on top, smothered by beschamel sauce. 

I couldn't get the picture before I'd already taken a few bites.


Kentucky Hot Brown! That's what it was called. And I'm suing the restaurant for making my jeans too tight.

Okay, let's call it quits there. I'm exhausted, and all I can think about is the Kentucky Hot Brown, and how I'd fly to New York just to eat it again. 

Enough about me. How about all y'all? Speaking of "y'all", I met a fellow writer Bryan Bliss, who assumed I was from the South. When I told him I was from Utah, he's like, "Well, that's like the South." 

Yeah. Utah is totally the South. Of Idaho.



So, what's everyone up to this week? Anyone else ever eaten a Kentucky Brown Boy? [image error]
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Published on February 02, 2011 09:43 • 17 views

January 31, 2011

Hey ya'll.

I'm back.

I've been five days without wi-fi, and that is six days too long. Apparently New York is one of those cities that doesn't realize wi-fi should be as free as air. Of course, New York is a city that charges for their air, so maybe the concept never occurred to them.

If you want to see a New Yorker make a funny face, ask them where to get free wi-fi. But I'm not bitter. Totally not bitter.

Now I'm staring at the computer screen, wondering how to blog. It's not like riding a bike. If you don't do it every other day, you will forget how.

Let's start with a rundown of the top... I don't know... 13 things I learned/observed in New York.

1. It's always an appropriate time to back away from a crazy person.

On my first day in the city, a crazy man on the corner of the street yelled at me for "ice skating with the man". I apologized and moved on, because I could have, at some point, ice skated with a man, and how am I to know if he was the man?

Next, another man on the street started puking his guts out, right in front of me. So hard his pants fell down. This kind of excitement has never happened to me before, and I was sorry I was alone because this is the kind of thing one should share with others.

Lucky for you, I had my camera phone. I especially love the two guys peeking around the corner, partaking in the entertainment without having to get involved.

As a finale to the trifecta of awesome, another crazy man sat across from me on the train, hitting himself and calling himself not nice names.

Everyone around us immediately moved away. I hesitated, because I never want anyone to think I'm judgmental, but then by the time I realized that yes, the smart thing would be to move away, I felt it was too late. My window to move away subtley had long passed.

After a few moments, the poor man peed himself. And that's when I learned a good lesson, which was later confirmed by several friends who live in New York:

It's always an appropriate time to move away from a crazy person. 

2. There are lots of old things in New York.

Here's a picture of the oldest church in America. I don't know much more about it, except if it's the oldest church in America, it has to be at least fifty years old.

Oops. Wrong picture. Wait a sec... Okay. Now, presenting the oldest church in America. It was built in 1382, by Sacajawea... and... Ghandi. And Lewis and Clark. It was quite the team venture.

Okay, so I'm not quite sure about the history... oh, wait. Hold the phone. Wrong church.

Lemme shuffle through... okay. Here we go.

Ahem. And below, presenting... The. Oldest. Church. In. America.

Dylan's Candy Bar


It was built in 1982, by a Saint named Dylan, and inside are several confectionary offerings of all sorts of shapes and colors. There is an altar in the middle, praising the immaculate invention of the cinnamon bear.

I spent much time worshipping in the Church of the Dylan's Candy Bar. True to the advertising, it did bring me one step closer to heaven.

3. Sometimes Agents don't like to get their pictures taken.

I got to meet my editor Kristin, and the rest of the publishing team at Balzer and Bray, and when I requested one measly little picture, my agent Michael Bourret's response was, "Oh man. Now that I've sold your book, do I really have to put up with getting pictures anymore?"

Um... yeah. 

I assume his trepidation comes from the fact that I always point out his million dollar smile. But it's not like I show the same picture over and over.

Have you seen this one of us in L.A.?



Sure, I've mentioned his smile, but have I made a big deal about his dimples? Of course not! And I won't.  They are too precious.


The way he was grumbling, you'd think my camera flash blinded him with each shot, when that only happened twice. So, without further delay, I present the one picture of Michael, Me and my editor, the incredible Kristin Daly Rens, in New York City.



Me in the middle, surrounded by awesome.
Enjoy it while you can, because that is the last picture of Michael. 

I always thought the HarperCollins building would look like something out of the Wonka Factory, where cover art is carried to the appropriate rooms by a river of words, and pipes of... um... words.

But, HarperCollins in real life looks a little less... magical. But a lot more practical.

Look what our high-speed, night-vision cameras caught! The elusive Michael Bourret, wandering the maze of cubicles. 






After a reception at the Balzer and Bray offices, Michael, Kristin and I went to lunch. Even the walk was magical, because the snow had just fallen the day before, and it had only just started to turn black with the gunk that blankets the entire city every day.



Kristin and someone else, both thinking this is just a walk to get from point A to point B when really it's an epic journey in a snowy wonderland, where the piles of the white stuff are rife with possibility. Or maybe they're rife with the pantsless guy's puke.  Either way, it's a smell like no other. And I'm walking down the streets of New York with my Editor and my Agent. Tell me that's not magical. I dare you. 






Seriously, we're only on number 4? Okay, I'll save you all from the entire ship's log of the trip. More to come on Wednesday. 

How about all y'all? Have a great weekend? Did you enjoy the time away from my blog? Did Sam fill in okay? Was he attentive in every way?

And finally, have you ever seen a guy puke so hard his pants fall down? 

I have. [image error]
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Published on January 31, 2011 16:22 • 15 views

January 27, 2011

With Brodi being out of town, I have been asked to step up my game and come on over to her blog and post for her.  I know it is a Thursday, but there is a new sherrif in town and I am making up my own rules (and when Brodi gets back, she will crush my new rules and it will go back to the regular MWF timespots...but for now, I am IN CHARGE). 

Brodi is out of town.  She just beat the big NYC storm and now   She is New York City partying like its 1989.  Actually, she says that she went to a writers conference, but I have my doubts.  I asked her how her busy day of taking notes, studying the words of the speakers, etc. went...She avoided the question and told me that she went out with our niece for lunch and then spent the rest of the day exploring downtown NYC, Columbia, etc.  As you can tell, she is working very hard on perfecting her trade at this 'writing conference.'



I too have been living it up - I have spent the past couple of days getting her car working (OK, a mechanic did it but I did watch him), fixing the plumbing (OK, a plumber did it, but I did watch him), doing homework with the kids, actually working at my own job, trying to keep the house from being condemned by the city and yet I still find time to hold dance parties all through the night, complete with strobe lights, karaoke machines and cage dancers (don't ask!).  The kids have been well fed on poptarts, Rootbeer, waffles with extra syrup and ice cream.  All 4 food groups...or is it 5 food groups? We are somehow holding it all together.  We miss her.



On a different note - If you have a chance, please go and visit Brodi's agent's agency's website (that was a mouthful) at: http://www.dystel.com/  Brodi's agent Michael wrote a fabulous blog post on why he signed Brodi and what went in to signing her.  It is terrific.  Not sure who loves Michael more, Brodi or me. 



Also, if you have a chance, come on over to our house.  It is a ragin' party all day long.  I even have a couple of cute little boys that you can take home to keep as parting gifts.  Enjoy your Friday and weekend...I really have no plans - so feel free to let me know what you are doing so that I can imagine that I am you...so make it good!  Toodles![image error]
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Published on January 27, 2011 19:47 • 16 views

January 24, 2011

Hey y'all.

So, most of you know the destruction that befell (totally a word) my phone last September when I dropped it in a parking lot.





But I kept the phone, because I'm loyal like that and because it made a fantastic crunchy sort of noise every time I dialed a number.

Okay, and because I couldn't afford a new one. 

Well, my loyalty came back to bite me in the bum. Actually, it was the finger. As I was playing an intense game of Solitaire, I felt a sharp sting on my thumb. A shard of glass had embedded itself in my skin. And holy cow, that is ow

I gingerly removed the offending bugger, and then the blood started gushing. And by "gushing" I mean a tiny bead of red appeared. 

But really, the sharpest pain of all was in my heart. How had I been so deceived, that we could just go on like that without one or both of us getting hurt? 

The phone gave me puppy dog eyes, and said, "Have I ever told you the story of the scorpion and the frog?"

me: "No."

Phone: "The scorpion needed to cross a river, and so he asked the frog for a ride. 'But, you'll sting me!' the frog said. The scorpion replied, 'I promise not to sting you. I need to get across the river, and if I sting you, we're both in trouble.' The frog agreed and so the scorpion climbed on his back."

me: "Awww. How sweet."

Phone: "Then about halfway across the river, suddenly the scorpion pulls out a shard of glass, and stabs the frog in the thumb. 'What are you doing?' the frog said. 'You've killed us both!' And the scorpion replied, 'I can't help it. It's in my nature.'"

me: "Bite me."

Phone: "How about we save that for next week's lesson?"

But, dear blog readers, there will be no 'next week' for us. My heart has turned to stone. Little does my phone know that later today, I'm taking him to the glue factory, where he will be sacrificed to provide shoes for needy children. 

The shoes will be made out of shards of glass, but hey. They're shoes.

HOUSEKEEPING

1. My revisions are due tomorrow. I'm about halfway done. This will be very exciting. (Note: If your name is Kristin, and you live in New York, I'm totally kidding. I am all the way done. Nothing to see here.)

2. I'm flying out to New York on Wednesday. I can't wait! I get to meet my agent and my editor, and see my friend Sara Zarr speak at the National SCBWI conference. Anyone in the area? Anyone want to hang out?

So blogging may or may not happen on Wednesday. But I will for sure blog several times from New York! Wish me luck on the revisions. I'm still waiting for a visit from the revision fairy. I believe. I BELIEVE![image error]
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Published on January 24, 2011 08:04 • 17 views

January 21, 2011

Happy Friday, yo. 

It's time to unveil the official Author photo!

At least, that's the picture that you see. 

When I look at it, I see this:



Hi! My name's Jowly McCheekerton. What's yours? 

I can only guess what you're thinking:

"Her cup-o-cheek runneth over."



"I didn't know she chewed tobacco!"

"Looks like the Godfather got together with a chipmunk..."

Since I'm not great with photoshop, or any of those other programs, I've come up with a few solutions that don't require much tech know-how. Please vote for your favorite.

Solution #1:"I think she has a little something on her face. What is that? A crumb?"

Oh no. It's not a crumb. It's just a pickle, of course. Probably left over from when they ate lunch. Happens to me all the time.

Option #2:"Oh look! She's peeking out from behind a fascinating brick wall. How coy!"



Oh, no, wait! It's the Berlin wall! Even better! She's so political.

Option #3:"Boy, it must've been really cold that day!"





Awesome ski mask, though!

So. please vote for your favorite option. Personally, I'm inclined to go with the Berlin Wall, only this time I'll step behind it completely. 

My photographer "Opie" was awesome, by the way. She did the best she could, given her cheek-matter...  I mean, her subject matter. 

p.s. Photos by Opie Foto[image error]
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Published on January 21, 2011 10:04 • 18 views