Maggie Stiefvater's Blog: Maggie Stiefvater, page 378

Readers Make A Millionty Calories

Today I thought I'd post about one of the unexpected pleasures of being an author. There are certain cool things about being an author that had always I hoped for — like good reviews, delighted readers, cool covers, sweet film deals. But then there are cool things that I just never even thought to look forward to. For instance, a bunch of teens sent me video of the Shiver musical they had done at their school. Fan art and photo manips and gifs are surprisingly satisfying. People name their hamsters after my characters. Hamsters! That is no shoddy thing.

Here is another satisfying thing: readers who bake. In The Scorpio Races, there is an imaginary food called November Cakes, no longer so imaginary because
Anyway, I thought I'd ask readers to share their November Cakes photos today, in honor of my readers and The Scorpio Races paperback release. I'm going to include the recipe again at the bottom of the post, but it's also in the paperback (along with four deleted scenes that didn't appear in the final draft of the book). A huge thanks to everyone for sharing photos. And I hope I get the credits in the right order.

Click to biggerfy the photo:



from left to right

1 Feli Huber, Ruth Link, Ainsley Louise, Caroline Foxwell
2 @anonymeet, Maggie Reynolds, ___* Sarah Whisted
3 @pixie319, Arlena Lockard, @xamandaolivieri, Rach Robins, @mandymia16
4 HouseonHarrison, Jackie Woodburn, @JessieBees, @seestephwrite, Barbara Moon
5 @morganmck18, @deadtossedwaves, @foundinamuseum, @beckiejean, @jocelynelaberge
6 @rhapsodyinbooks, Rowan Krajcik, @Bay64737572
7 @clarethewriter, Angie Thompson, Kim van Prooijen, Tara Lee
8 Katherine Phillips, Alexa Barry, Hei Ke, Julia Simpson
9 Stephanie Marie Souther Bittner, Leobarda Aquilar, Amanda Breck, Ruth Hofmann
10 @emumfy, Stephanie Dick & Jessica Koegler Yeager,
11 April Wanner, @HeathBear

*I cannot believe I can't find the name for this one. I think FB ate it.

And the recipe:

Publishing Does Not Want to Eat Your Heart

I got a writing/ publishing question from a reader and it was something I wondered myself when I got started, so I figured I’d answer it on the blog. Here ‘tis:

I've been trying to query for one of my novels for the past few months now, and already I'm racking up on my 17th rejection. However, three of those rejections the agents took some time away from their cookie-cutter mold to say that my story was "very interesting" but "They would have to pass..."

I'm really confused by this statement because it means my work caught their attention, but it is baffling me as to why they rejected it. Do you have any helpful hints in this department? Or even any hints on how to compose a knock out first chapter that could make agents stop say 'interesting, but no...' to 'interesting and yes!'

I should start out this post by mentioning that I've already written about query letters here. So if you want to read that, I’ll wait here.

Okay, we’re all back? Grand-o. Here is the thing you need to know about traditional publishing: it does not want to eat your heart. It doesn’t even want to wither your soul to nothing.

It just doesn’t care that you exist.

I’ve always been fine with that. I don’t need Publishing to be my friend. I don’t even need Publishing to like me. As a writer, I’ve just wanted Publishing to give me a career. And as a reader, I’ve just wanted Publishing to give me books I want to read.

That last sentence is going to be my thesis statement for this entire blog post, so maybe I should put it in bold.

Publishing tries to give people books they want to read.

Oh, no, I have one other thesis statement. It’s two pronged. Let’s put that one in bold, too.

Publishing is run by readers.

If you remember both these things as an aspiring writer, I reckon you’ll be okay.

Let’s go back to the response from the agents. “Very interesting” and “have to pass” are not opposites, though it might feel that way when you’re staring at a rejection letter.

Here is a list of things an agent must do if she agrees to represent a book:

-love it -keep loving it after multiple reads while editing it for the new author -love it enough to pitch it enthusiastically to very busy editors -love it when it doesn’t sell right away and sits around for six months -love it enough to argue with editors over bad cover choices/ contracts/ publicity -love it enough to pitch it to foreign publishers months after signing the author -love it enough to passionately advocate for a marketing plan for it -love it enough that 5 years later they can still nod enthusiastically when people say “you agent that author?”

(an editor’s list looks a lot like this, only with even more passionate fist-pounding at editorial meetings)

An agent must love your book enough to be willing to spend hundreds of hours on it.

Imagine when you read a novel. I imagine you’re like me: you have novels you like, novels you love for a week and then forget, and novels that you hug to your chest for months afterward. For an agent to not despise her/ his job, she needs the last one: fiery passion that means she’ll still love your manuscript in a year. Moreover, she has be pretty sure that she'll love your next unwritten project as well. Because when an agent signs a client, she doesn’t sign just one book. She signs an author.

How many books do you read in a year that you love so much that you’ll absolutely pick up the author’s next work? For me, it’s less than five. How many books on your shelf would you advocate tirelessly for? For me, it's a handful.

I know what you’re thinking. “But if the projects sell, surely that is the point of all this! WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT?”

I would never go with an agent who signed me only because she thought I would sell. I want an agent who loves what I write, so she can tell me if I’m hitting the mark with my new projects. An agent who is going to pitch my novels to editors like there’s no tomorrow. An agent who advocates my case because she believes in my work, not because she’s supposed to. Contractual obligation gets the job done, I guess, but love burns hotter and longer.*

*sexy!

Moreover, Publishing, against all reason, is run on passion. Because it’s run by readers. Although the bottom line is still putting out books that will sell to as many people as possible, generally those books end up on the list because somewhere, someone in the industry was willing to stand on a chair and shout for them. And that love needs to start at the ground level. Me. Then my agent. Then my editor. Then my readers.

Back to this thing: “Very interesting” and “have to pass.” What this agent is doing is giving you a compliment. Instead of just giving you a form rejection, she or he is merely letting you know that you’re writing something promising. If I were to parse it, I reckon it means that the concept is appealing, but maybe the writing isn't there just yet. I wouldn’t sweat it. I’d take it for the affirmation it is and move on. Oh — I'd probably add that agent's name to my list to query for my next manuscript. But really, otherwise, I'd be pleased with the little head nod and I'd move on.

So how to move to “interesting and yes!”? I don't think rejections will give you insight here. I guess sometimes a pile of rejections will give you a hint — if you get four rejections that say they couldn’t connect with your main character, fix your main character. But usually they’re just too vague. Which means it is back to the old fashioned way: critique partners.

And the answer to how to write a compelling first chapter is sitting on your own shelf already. Good writers are analytical readers. Get your favorite novels off the shelf and dissect those first chapters. What pulled you in as a reader? What do they all have in common? Can you apply the broad techniques to your own manuscript?

I promise you that Publishing is actually pretty fair. A little mercenary in that it prefers novels that appeal to a wide group of readers rather than novels that appeal to only a few. But in my experience, it’s very rare that a great, commercial novel goes unnoticed during querying. As soon as I wrote something worth reading, I got published. Not a moment before (a fact for which I’m grateful, as my name would be on that first effort forever), not for lack of trying.

Publishing really doesn’t want to eat your heart. Publishing is run by readers. All they want is a good read. It’s your job to give it to them.

Things Fall Down

What do you know about goats?

For most of my life, this is what I knew about goats:

1. They have square pupils.
2. They are clever.
3 They are mentioned in the following song

Oh mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy A kid’ll eat ivy too wouldn’t you?

4. They have cute little hoofie-woofies.
5. They are one of the reasons I legally changed my name when I was 16.

And I wanted one. Well, I mean, I wanted one in a vague, distant way, the way that we all want a Lamborghini or backyard yew-hedge labyrinth or a leather bikini. These wants never become a concrete objects, because when you think hard about any of them, you can’t really imagine how, say, a life-size statue of William B. Yeats and John Singer Sargent holding hands would really fit into your current lifestyle.

So years passed. Somewhere along the way, I realized that I was now a grown up, and if I wanted to eat cookie dough for breakfast, there was no one to stop me. And also that if I wanted to get goats, I could just get goats. There was only one person who had to agree.

ME: I want to get some goats.
LOVER: Yep.

Now, I don’t know how much you know about goats. But there are a lot of different sorts of goats. There are dairy goats and meat goats. There are goats with ears that stick up and goats with ears that hang down. Horned goats. Unhorned goats. Goats with long hair, goats with curly hair, goats with long and curly hair. Goats that only come in black and white. Goats that only come out of the ocean every November. There are a cornucopia of goat varieties to choose from. A cornucopia.

Last Friday, as soon as I got back from tour, I brought home two Miniature Silky Fainting goat kids.
That’s a lot of capitalized words, so allow me to break this down for you. They are Miniature. And Silky. And they Faint.

Well, they are not really Miniature. Currently, they’re the size of cats, but they’ll get knee-high. Which is small. But not miniature. When I think the word “miniature,” I think — I can put that animal in my pocket. I could store it on a shelf. I could fit 50-60 of them in the back of my car. These goats, on the other hand . . . I could probably only fit 10 of these goats in my backseat. And I’d need Lover to pack them. He’s one of those people who are good at packing cars.

And they are not yet Silky. They will be, mind you. Right now they are merely fluffy. But I saw their adult brethren at the Miniature Silky Fainting Goat farm and I have a bottle of conditioner at the ready.

Also, about the fainting. Some of you may already know about fainting goats, as they are a bit of an internet sensation. Basically, when you surprise a fainting goat, they fall over.

I did a bit of research on this to find out if it was harmful. I knew myself, you see. My dark nature would be torn between allowing my goats a long and healthy life and making my goats fall over every time company came over. Luckily for me, I found out that I didn’t have to choose. Fainting goats — myotonic goats, really — don’t actually faint. They never lose consciousness. Instead, it’s like when someone honks a horn right by your head and you seize up for a second. Myotonic goats react the same way. Only they seize up for about ten seconds. Which is enough time for them to go completely rigid and fall off a picnic table*.

*this is the voice of experience.

This is the point where this conversation always goes this way.

ME: So basically every time they get surprised or excited, they fall over.
EVERYONE: Why would evolution do such a thing?

Evolution, although she is a tempestuous mistress at best, cannot be blamed for this. Farmers intentionally bred for fainting, and not just because they knew that hundreds of years later authors would want to have them. Goats are crafty little buggers and masters of escape. Not fainting goats, however.

Let's play this out. This is what happens when a normal goat scales a fence:

GOAT: I’m escaping! I’m escaping!  
GOAT: *escapes*

This is what happens when a fainting goat scales a fence:

FAINTING GOAT: I’m escaping! I’m escaping!
FAINTING GOAT: *faints*

Because, as I noted, excitement can also make them faint. There’s also some theories that fainting goats were kept among sheep so that when wolves appeared the goats would look up and say OMFG WOLVES where F stands for Faint, and then the sheep would get away while the goat remained behind as lunch. But I think that’s pretty unlikely, seeing them in action. Because it’s really not Peril that makes them faint. It’s Shock. So unless the wolf is rappelling suddenly from a helicopter, the goats will probably just be able to run away like any other normal snack-food-species.

Oh, I almost forgot. My favorite part of my research? I discovered that older fainting goats will learn that they faint in shocking circumstances. So when they feel they’re in a stressful situation: they will lean on something. They become Miniature Silky Fainting Self-Aware Goats.

I mean, it’s like they invented these animals for me or something.

I guess you want pictures? Here are pictures. This is General (the all white one) and Specific (the slightly more adorable one). They love to huggle and follow us around and they also have cute little hoofie-woofies.

 





Here is also a video of Specific chewing.

A Pile of News

This shall be a small pile of miscellaneous news. I know I have been silent, but it's because I have been touring and lurking in places with no internet. I've wanted to communicate with the outside world. Really. Truly. I have things to say. But my cell phone dowsing for signal has been unsuccessful. So. Without further ado:

1. The US paperback of The Scorpio Races is officially out today. It has some cool things the hard cover doesn't: several deleted scenes, my Printz speech, an interview with my editor, and the recipe for the November Cakes. The recipe you can already get online, but the other stuff is exclusive. It also has this new cover.

2. I am celebrating the release of The Scorpio Races by being in the part of the world I spent the most time researching the location of that book. The timing is coincidental. But I like it. Even though it is the reason why I don't really have any internet at the moment. Here is where I am:






3. On the heels of the 2013 Critique Partner Love Connection, it seems pretty appropriate that news of my next project just went live. Here's the official summary:  

Maggie Stiefvater, Tessa Gratton and Brenna Yovanoff's THE ANATOMY OF CURIOSITY, a companion to their earlier THE CURIOSITIES, and a conversational step-by-step guide to their writing/ critiquing process and relationship, with new original stories by the authors in first and final draft forms, again to Andrew Karre at Carolrhoda Lab, for publication in Fall 2014, by Laura Rennert at the Andrea Brown Literary Agency for Stiefvater and Gratton, and Sarah Davies at the Greenhouse Literary Agency for Yovanoff (world English).

Like The Curiosities, it will involve new short fiction and doodled marginalia* from each of us, but unlike The Curiosities, we're really digging in to the critique and revision process and making a level effort to show our thought processes at every step of the writing process. To do that, we're going to dissect lengthy stories from each of us.

 *here is what a sample page of The Curiosities looks like.

 

4. I did a quite extended interview with London Real and it's available on YouTube and on iTunes. It's an hour and a half long which means you will see more of my face than I see myself. We cover cars and fainting goats and The Dream Thieves.

5. Thus concludes my news.

2013 Critique Partner Love Connection

I guess it's that time of year again. I've been asked several times in the last few months if I would do another critique partner love connection on my blog and I now have enough requests that I'm going to go ahead and do it. These seems to be a yearly thing. I don't think I need to change the wording from the original Critique Partner Love Connection, so here we go:

Okay. As y'all know, I have two critique partners (Tessa Gratton and Brenna Yovanoff) whom I love dearly. They rip and tear at my manuscript with everything they have in them and they read what I read and love what I love and . . .well, after a long critique partner search, I have learned much about what I need in crit partners, and they are what I need.

However, it's come to my attention that not all of my blog readers have found what they need, and they're having a hard time putting out a call for crit partners on their own blogs because of traffic. Some of them are really good too -- agented or published or close to agented or published, and they need someone at that level. Others are just starting out.

So I thought I might do a Crit Partner Love Connection here on my blog, if anybody's looking. This is PRECISELY the way I found Tessa and Brenna.

Here are the rules, such as I ever have rules:

Post a comment saying the age range (adult, YA, MG), a brief, one-sentence blurb about your book or just the genre if you don't want to share more than that, and whether or not you have an agent, etc. Also the last book that you read that you loved that you feel epitomizes you as a reader.

ETA: Also note if you're writing in a language other than English (probably in caps, so you're easier to find for other folks writing in your language).

Then, if someone sounds appealing to you, you send them a message saying so and find out if it's mutual. If it is, you exchange the first 50 pages of your manuscripts, critique them, and return said critiques. If either of you doesn't feel like the crit relationship is working at that point, you get to smile and say thanks and walk away without any questions asked. That's the way it works.

NOTE: I myself am not looking for critters. Two partners is enough for me -- I can't keep up with anymore. I recommend definitely two or three partners for best results. That way when someone says "this sucks!" and someone else says "does not!" you can be the tie breaker. But if they both say "this sucks!" and you say "does not!" it means you're wrong. ;)

OTHER NOTE: I mirror this blog on Livejournal and Wordpress and you might want to check the comments there, too.

Okay. Go!

P.S. As I'm in the UK right now, I just wanted to post a brief reminder of my two public signings.

Manchester, Saturday, March 23rd.

London, Sunday, March 24th.

London Signing Just Added

Hi all! Okay, I have an additional event to add to the UK schedule this month. This never really happens, not with only a week's notice, but this is a special case. I had so very many folks expressing sadness that Manchester was the only UK event and asking for a London one that I asked my publisher if we could do anything about it.

Waterstones at the O2 (Finchley Road) in London was very generous and let us set up an event on Sunday the 24th at 1:00 p.m. Here's the official event information. I'm happy to sign every book you bring so long as you buy one from the store to thank them.

Like I said, this is the first time an event to one of my tours has been added due to online fan requests, so I'm hoping you guys will prove me right, that online readers are a force to be listened to! I hope to see you there!

Foreign Cover Round Up

As I packed my passport in my bag, I realized it has been a very long time since I've done a wrap up of foreign cover. Because they interest me, I'm going to inflict them on you. My apologies if I've posted any of them before or if I've missed anybody. You can get ALL of the foreign covers I have for each book by clicking on the linky above each set of covers.

The Scorpio Races
 

From left to right: Dutch, Lithuanian, Polish, Swedish, German, Brazilian, French, and Italian.

Lament & Ballad



From left to right: Czech, Czech, Italian, Hungarian


Shiver, Linger & Forever




Left to Right: Chinese, Latvian, Hebrew


The Raven Boys




Left to right: French, Hungarian, Swedish, UK


Also, my Swedish publisher just tweeted this photo of the Stockholm subway to me:






I said: o.O

Okay. I'm off to Germany and the UK now. See ya there?

Oh, oh, oh. And I'm also going to be doing a Critique Partner Love Connection in a few days.

March Tour Dates: Tucson, Germany, & the UK

I'm not going to be on the road as much this year as I'm working on the third faerie book, the second Spirit Animals book, and the third Raven Boys book, but I'm pleased to report I have a really lovely March schedule that I'm looking forward to.

Here 'tis:

TUCSON, AZ: TUCSON BOOK FESTIVALhttps://www.facebook.com/events/105124756324796/

March 9: Panel- Young Adult Fiction: No Boundaries?4:00 PM - 05:00 PM UA Mall Tent

March 10: Panel -Fragile on the Outside - Steel on the Inside: Gutsy Girls10:00 AM - 11:00 AM Education Building - Kiva Auditorium

March 10: Maggie Stiefvater - Solo Presentation 12:30 PM - 01:00 PM Teen and Author Meeting Place

GERMANY: LEIPZIG BOOK FESTIVAL/ BUCHMESSE:March 15: Maggie Stiefvater & Florens Schmidt present ROT WIE DAS MEER 3:30 P.M. Messegelände, Lese-Treff, Halle 2 E 313 https://www.facebook.com/events/408819382534143/

March 15, "Night of Youth Fiction" Bettina Belitz, Jennifer Benkau, & Maggie Stiefvater 7:00 P.M. Theaterhaus Schille, Otto-Schill-Str.7, 04109 Leipzig https://www.facebook.com/events/191552144321442/

March 16, Maggie Stiefvater & Florens Schmidt present ROT WIE DAS MEER 11:00 A.M. Messegelände, Fantasy Leseinsel, Halle 2 G 307 https://www.facebook.com/events/140941846064276/

March 17, Maggie Stiefvater & Florens Schmidt present ROT WIE DAS MEER 12:30 P.M. Messegelände, Lese-Treff, Halle 2 E 313 https://www.facebook.com/events/474999725868776/

COLOGNE: March 14, Lit.Cologne, ticketed event - 5:30 P.M. Comedia - Theater KÖLN https://www.facebook.com/events/312262375554572/

UK*

March 23: Manchester, UK1:00 P.M. Signing at Waterstones, Manchester https://www.facebook.com/events/339323229517062/

I'll be bringing some of my Raven Boys bookplates to the UK and German tours (I know I have a few reader requests for those left to mail out too; sorry, I'm behind!).


*I had thought I would have more public events set up in the UK (I have mostly school visits; I don't set up my schedule), but Manchester is the only public signing. I know there are folks in the south who'd like to get their books signed too, and I will be in London, but with no store events. So I might see about parking myself in a London cafe & letting the internet know where I am. It would be on the 24th if I could pull it off. Lemme know in the comments if you'd be interested and I'll see what I can do.

A Las Vegas Bathtub Story

This is a story about Las Vegas.

Now, I know if I tell you that, and I tell you I was there on my birthday, and I was driving a rental red convertible Camaro for the occasion and I got pulled over by the cops, you’re going to think this is a very particular sort of story.

But it is not that sort of story.

I was in Las Vegas for the NCTE conference (already this story has changed in your mind, I can tell), and it was the very last night of the very last day. At that point I had a very limited agenda: do the finest job of sleeping I could possibly imagine in order to not hate and destroy the world when I got up for my exceptionally early flight home.

I feel you can already sense this didn’t go well.

My hotel was pretty fabulous, I have to say, aside from the decor, which I’d describe as “tastefully misogynistic.”* The walls were sound-proofed within an inch of their lives, creating a pleasant, tomb-like existence which encouraged fantasies that I was the only person left on the planet.**

*much like a Cary Grant movie **later I would regret this

And my room was massive. As I lounged against the kitchen sink and then the couch and then on the bed and then got lost in the palatial two-roomed bathroom, I realized it was larger than my first apartment by several degrees of magnitude.

The hotel room:


My first apartment:


The bathtub alone was larger than my first apartment’s bathroom. In fact, the hotel tub was one of those jetted numbers that promises luxury and indulgence and other words they often say in jewelry commercials. For my part, I don’t like sitting still and I don’t like bubbles, so all I could think was: they could have put a trampoline there instead.***

***Actually, it was Las Vegas. There probably were some rooms with a trampoline option.

But back to my tale. As I got ready for bed after a late night book event, I felt strangely creeped out. You should know that this in itself was unusual. My parents had an affection for old houses in my youth, and I have had an affection for shadows since I was germinated in one, and just, in general, I tend to be the most harmful thing in any given space. These things combine to mean that it’s hard to rattle me.

And yet, I was creeped out.

It is just the poster of the headless naked girl, I told myself. You’re just eager to be home, where her nipples will not glare so resentfully at you.

I turned off the light. I closed my eyes. I began to hear . . . sounds. Knocking. Thunking. Footsteps?

Recall how before I had been delighted by the room’s soundproofing. I had spent three nights in a tomblike hotel room and now NOW, where was my tomb? Moreover, the noise didn’t seem to be coming from the hall or the rooms adjacent. Instead, the sounds were coming from the bathroom. I’d like to refer you floor plan above. Do you see how it has an interior wall? That is where the sound was coming from — knocks on that. So my first thought was: someone is in here.

I did what any author would do if they believed someone was in their hotel room. I hit the lights, seized the telephone from beside the bed as a weapon, and leapt upright on the mattress. What a threatening and tastefully misogynistic form I must have cut as I bristled in my t-shirt and underwear, clutching a James-Bondesque retro telephone, ready to bash someone's brains in.

But of course there was no one there.

I turned on all the lights and checked the rooms out, but they were empty. I was in fact the last person on the planet. So I climbed back into bed. I turned off the light.

Sleep, Maggie. Your flight is in six hours.

SOUNDS.

Knocking! Thumping! Footsteps! The most annoying part was that I knew, now, that they hadn’t been going on while I was investigating the room with the lights on. I began to feel as if Something was toying with me.****

****I do believe in ghosts. I believe in them the same way I believe in albino squirrels. Sometimes, when you see something white, it’s an albino squirrel. But usually it is just a cat.

So I did what any author would if they believed there was a supernatural entity in the room with them. Without turning on the light, I said to the room, “If you’re a ghost, I’m not interested! I have heard far worse and I’m not in the mood!” And I closed my eyes.

Which is when a sound like a plane landing exploded from the bathroom.

I couldn’t immediately figure out what it was. It was, in fact, a stone-cold excellent first-place horror-movie sound. It roared, louder than anything, and it didn't stop. Its timing had been perfect. And while I still had heard worse, as I had promised the room just a moment before, it had been a very long time.

I will admit, this was when I first quailed.

But I couldn't just lay there. I very much would have preferred to. But instead I turned on the light, swore hatefully, and made myself go into the bathroom. I expected probably it was the last time, in fact, that I would ever go into a bathroom. Whatever was making the noise was going to kill me and in fact the story of Maggie Stiefvater was going to come to an end on the tiles of a Las Vegas bathroom, as so many stories do.

Spoiler: I did not die. The noise was the bathtub — all the jets had come on. Because I never use the things and because the jets were not really meant to be able to come on without water in the tub, it took me awhile to figure out how to turn them off.

Silence, finally. The hotel room really was tomb-like. Emphasis on tomb. Double emphasis on tombs have dead people in them.

I went back to bed. It took me a bit of resolve to turn off the light this time. I told the room, “I’m sleeping now. You may take a bath by yourself.”

I closed my eyes. Really hard. Like I meant it.

Sleep, Maggie, you have a flight in—

BAM!

I wish you guys were all right here so I could demonstrate where this next sound happened. If I was telling the story in person, it would involve me slamming one fist into another. And I would do it right beside your face. So you jumped and blinked at me.

Because this sound happened right beside my head, and it came with an actual thump of the bed shaking, as something hit the headboard from my side of the wall.

I turned on the light.

I sat up.

The nipples across the room looked at me pointedly.

I just slept on the plane.*****

 

 

*****When I checked out, I told the guy what had happened. him: oh, that happens a lot. me: the jets coming on by themselves? So it’s a malfunction? him: oh, no, creepy things. People ask to change rooms all the time. But it doesn’t help. *laughs* me: *laughs* *wishes she’d slept in the convertible Camaro*

Internet, You Didn't Want This: or, Maggie & the Irish Pipes

The Internet told me they wanted this video.

 I'm just not sure they knew what they were asking for.