Brodi Ashton's Blog, page 14

The Saddest Banana in the World

Most of you know Kid C has been claiming he is "left-handed" ever since he had his cast taken off of his right arm. 

We've tried to be patient. Waited for him to figure out he is not left-handed. We don't want to push him into realizing an ugly truth: he is right-handed. 

Unfortunately, however, he is in third grade and his class is deep into learning cursive. 

The final breaking point was his Cursive 'B is for Banana' sheet.  Take a look. It didn't start out well. 



If I draw them bigger, I'll only have to do, like, two.
Next came the actual word. Banana. 

Teacher: "Okay, Kid C. All you have to do is copy the example. Got it?"

Kid C: "Got it!"



Booo Yeah! Perfect. One says "Banana." The other says "Banana." An exact copy.
Teacher. "Umm... Okay. So do you notice how in cursive, the letters connect to each other in a flowing kind of way?'

Kid C: "Yes."

Teacher: "Try it again, but this time in cursive. "

Kid C: "Got it."

Score! Connective, flowing... brilliant banana.
Teacher (grunts in frustration): "Okay, Kid C. This time, try writing the entire word without letting your pencil leave the paper."

Kid C: "But it says banana."

Teacher: "Yes, but not in cursive. Can you try it again? With your pencil stuck to the paper the entire time?"

Kid C: "You got it!"



Cursive accomplished! The pencil never left the paper! Not even once.


Teacher (sighs): "Okay. Because I love pain, I'm going to ask you to try it one more time."

Kid C: "This is going to be the best banana yet."



So, yes, we are being mean parents and forcing him to change to his right hand. He is right-handed. We're not exactly being abusive or anything, are we? Because he gives me these puppy-dog eyes, and with a trembling lip, says, "But... but... I'm left-handed. I really think I'm left-handed. Please?"

I keep trying to tell him that just because we're making him write with his right hand, it doesn't mean he will actually lose his left hand. But he seems unconvinced. He goes around cradling his left hand, whispering sweet goodbyes. 

Ally Condie says part of her inspiration for a few of the scenes in Matched was the fact that our nation's kids are losing the ability to write. I have no idea what she's talking about. See above. I would like the evidence entered as Exhibit B. For Banana.

Why I'm Not Even Trying Anymore...

I'll be honest: Most days I don't shower. When choosing an outfit for the day, I say to myself, "I think I'm on day four of this particular jeans and t-shirt combo. Should we go for five?" Then I smell the armpits.

Inevitably, I answer "yes". 

Then when I go to do my makeup, I think, "I'm just gonna have to wash it off again tonight..."

So it's not like I'm known as "Brodi Ashton: She cared too much about her appearance."

But online, I'm a different person. I'm a little like a wilting flower.

Up until yesterday, I had things like Google searches for my name or for key words like EVERNEATH. But it's becoming a bit overwhelming, especially since a billion ARCs of EVERNEATH went out to bloggers last week. 

So I de-brodi-fied my computer. No alerts. No twitter phrase searches. No checking goodreads. 

And it felt GOOOOOOOD.

But then this morning, I turn on my computer in my study, and I realize I haven't de-Brodi-fied it. A twitter message from an EVERNEATH search pops up, saying something like:

"And then there's that one EVERNEATH. It's like they're not even trying anymore!"  (I paraphrased, because I deleted the column before I could memorize it)

I hit the "delete search" as fast as I could, but the image of that tweet is burned on my brain, like bad porn. (Yes there is good porn and bad porn).

Now that phrase is infiltrating every aspect of my life.

I was in the shower and I forgot my face soap. I was all, "Mysterious tweeter was right. It's like I'm not even trying anymore!"

I went to put on my t-shirt/jeans combo that was on day five, and again, I was all, "I'm really NOT even trying anymore!"

I started writing this blog, and was all, "Why try anymore?"

Then Sam was noticing my extreme mania this morning, and he's all, "This is what you're like on a break from revisions? I'm not even going to try to understand the mechanics of your crazy anymore."

And I said, "I'm sorry you have to live with me."He smiled and said, "I wouldn't not have it any other way."

Me: "Wouldn't not? WOULDN'T NOT? That's a double negative! That means you would have it any other way! It's like you're not even trying anymore!"

How about you? Would you not want me no other way? Or do you read my blog and think, "She's not not even not trying anymore!"

Since I have de-brodi-fied my online experience, if you want to get my attention with something nice to say, you can contact me through my "contact me" button on my blog. (Or of course leave a comment)

If you have something negative to say, please send an email to Sam. 



ADDED: I will still be on twitter, and participating in conversations, so feel free to @reply me anytime!

Can you Name That Literary Character? And Win an ARC of EVERNEATH!

So many things to get to today!





1. First off, my sis-in-law is giving away an ARC of EVERNEATH on her blog. The rules to enter are pretty easy and straightforward, so give it a go by clicking here.





2. Second, the winner of the signed copy of BACK WHEN YOU WERE EASIER TO LOVE and an EVERNEATH guitar pick necklace is...





ANGEL SNYDER!

Please email me with your mailing address. My email is brodiashton at gmail dot com.





Thanks for everyone who entered, and participated in the Facebook trivia contest. I mailed out like 24 necklaces over the weekend. :)





3. NAME THAT LITERARY CHARACTER





I went to a blogger/writer social on Friday night (hosted by Mary Campbell) and we played a game where you stick the name of a literary figure on your forehead and you have to ask questions to figure out who you got.





I figured out the literary figure on my forehead in three simple questions. See if you can guess as well:





Question 1: "Is it a male or female?"

answer: "Male."





Question 2: "Is he hot?"

answer: "Yes. Way hot."





Question 3: "Is he supernatural or just plain human?"

answer: "Plain human."





Can you guess the literary character? (Don't scroll down if you want to try.)

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;

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;

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;

;













Okay, so the answer was Fitzwilliam Darcy. Did anyone get it right? It was simple, really. All you have to know is "hot" and "not immortal".





4. It was my birthday yesterday.





Check out the gift my mom gave me:





Because nothing says "Happy thirty-somethingth Birthday!" like Katy Perry nail polish. I love my mom, and I'm grateful for the gift, but I just want to know the thought process behind it.





Was it: Hey! Brodi loves glitter! This looks perfect.





Or: Hey! Brodi wanted to be a Firecracker for Halloween one year!





or: Hey! Brodi has nails.





She also got me this sun hat:





I can only assume that in her mind, I'm either turning 12 or 80.





It's okay for me to say this. My mom doesn't read my blog. Don't tell her, okay?





I painted my nails:





For the record, the bottom coat is "Teenage Dream" and the top coat is "The One That Got Away."





So, what's everyone up to? I should be getting my "EVERNEATH 2: It's Everneath-ier" revision letter on Friday, so I'm trying to enjoy my last moments of freedom. 

How to Break it to Kid C that he isn't really Left-Handed

I've officially given away all of my guitar pick necklaces after this week's trivia blast on the EVERNEATH Facebook Page.

I will have to make more. The necklaces are very small and intricate, so I've employed a bunch of hamsters to do the hand-painting on the guitar picks.



Their union is currently on strike, with a SHAME ON BRODI ASHTON sign in my front yard. But I am heading to the negotiating table soon, so we should be back on track in the near future.

I will announce the winner of BACK WHEN YOU WERE EASIER TO LOVE on Monday.

Meanwhile, Kid C got his cast off.

Look how brave he's being. And that is a saw going in the background. And that saw is loud. The first thing he said after the cast came off was, "So this is what I look like in the future."

He got it off on Tuesday, and ever since he's been keeping his right arm bent at a 90 degree angle, and his fingers stiff and together. So basically, the right half of his body is like a robot.

Each time we try to get him to straighten his arm, he screams, "You're breaking my arm!!" In public.

Also, he still does his homework with his left hand. He claims that he is permanently left-handed now. 

Somebody help me. 

Learn some EVERNEATH trivia, and win some EVERNEATH swag

So, awesome blogger Windy set up a local ARC tour for EVERNEATH where reviewers could get a chance to read it and post their reviews.

Today, the first review is up over at Sara B. Larson's blog. You can check it out here.  Sara is also a writer, and her blog is definitely one you should check out. (That previous sentence was so awkward, what with the preposition at the end and all...)

I'm feeling pensive today. Exactly one year ago yesterday, my awesome agent Michael submitted EVERNEATH to several publishing houses. And exactly one year ago tomorrow, my editor Kristin Daly Rens (KDR) from Balzer+Bray/HarperCollins bought it.  

So I've been reflecting on the journey. Here it is by the numbers:

11 months to write the book

4 Major Revisions with my editor. 2 with my agent.

20,000 words added after KDR bought it.

1 apostrophe removed (the original title was EVER'NEATH. The title before that was The Underneath. The title before that was Broken.) Added trivia: Bree Despain came up with the title EVER'NEATH.

5 foreign rights sold (U.K., Australia, Brazil, France, Germany)

1 sequel written

1 main character name change (Nikki's name was originally Nicole. It took me several months before I realized the two MC's were "Cole" and "Nicole". Seriously, Brodi?)

1 EVERNEATH quiz written. Do you go for the "Bad Boy" or the "Good Guy"? Soon you'll be able to take a quiz and find out. 

3,320 people who have signed up on Goodreads to read EVERNEATH. So Far. (Okay, that number is just crazy)

1 side character name change. Nikki works at the soup kitchen with a guy who was originally named Joel. There wasn't a problem until Nikki introduced Joel to her bffs Jack and Jules. "Jack, Jules, this is Joel. Joel, this is Jack and Jules." Can you spot the problem? So Joel became Christopher.  

I knew I had something with this book because Emily Wing Smith read the entire thing, and she normally doesn't like to read Paranormal.

After I got my agent Michael, we decided to change the ending of the book dramatically and turn it into a series.

Now for the fun part. Would you like a chance to win an EVERNEATH guitar pick necklace?

Here's what you do. Make sure you are a fan of the EVERNEATH Facebook Page. 

Next, study this blog post. Over the next few days, I'm going to be asking questions based on this EVERNEATH trivia. I'll post the question on the Everneath Facebook Page. The first three people to answer the question correctly in the comments under the question will get a necklace! It's easy!

Want another entry to win two necklaces plus a signed copy of Emily Wing Smith's BACK WHEN YOU WERE EASIER TO LOVE? 





Tweet about the contest!

Something like:

Wanna win some EVERNEATH swag? Check out @brodiashton 's blog post on EVERNEATH trivia. http://tinyurl.com/3ura7cz

Then let me know you tweeted about it in the comments of this post. You'll get an entry to win two necklaces (there are two types: one with the band and one with the cover) and the signed book.

What do you think? Fun? Boring? Totally awesome?



*I think I might have to limit it to the U.S.

Stupid Fortune Cookies that Didn't Live up to their Potential... and a Surprise from my Editor

I went to dinner the other night with writer peeps Bree Despain and Emily Wing Smith. It was Chinese food. After dinner, we opened our fortune cookies.

You know how fortune cookies are usually all, "Something amazing is coming your way!" or "People are talking about you right now... and it's good news!" or "Remember that thing you were worried about? Well, it's all better!"

This restaurant was different. The first fortune was pretty innocuous: "Stick with it! Patience is crucial to your success."

Fine. It's sort of a mantra I'm already familiar with, but fine. Thanks for the reminder. It's not necessarily a guarantee of success, though, is it? Patience may or may not bring it, but you should be patient regardless. 

Fortune Cookie #2: "You have remarkable power which you are not using."

This one sounds like it could be great: "You have remarkable power!"

But then it takes a dip: "...And you're squandering it."

So, really it sounds like my mother: Why can't you live up to your potential?

There's no hope in this one. There's no silver lining. No promises of, "But if you work on it, you could totally use all of your power!" No amount of patience will bring you success.

It's basically an indictment of you as a person. The fortune cookie has sentenced you, with no hope for bail.

Then there's Fortune Cookie #3: "Never mess up an apology with an excuse."

So, not only do you have something to apologize for, you're messing it up by trying to excuse your crummy behavior. 

How about you, fortune cookie? You're not taking your own advice! You're using the excuse that you're a fortune cookie to spread your own misfortune that the only thing you're good for is to be eaten!

*deep breaths*

Now I'm sure my next fortune will read:

"Expect to be shouting at inanimate pastries in your very near future."

Then I can be all, "What do you know? Fortune cookies really do work!"

Thankfully I opened a more exciting package than the fortune cookie this weekend. The mailman dropped off a large padded envelope from my publisher.  When I opened it, I found this:



Yep. It was Rafa's new book, with a note from my editor! 

Suddenly, my fortune is looking bright. And tan. And a little bit muscular.  

By the way, Rafa is playing in the finals of the U.S. Open today against Novak Djokovic. Anyone watching? 

Anyone else have bad luck with fortunes? Give me some of your best bad fortunes! (Real or make-believe)

Kid C gets Chastised for Being Violent

Hi Y'all! I'm back from Vegas, rested and recovered. I did, however, lose my new sunglasses. I guess what happens in Vegas really does stay in Vegas, because I bought the sunglasses on the strip.

Oh well, I'll tell you all about it next week.

So, I was going through Kid C's homework yesterday, and discovered he had to redo one of his assignments. The teacher had asked him to create a short story based on this prompt:

"Here's How to Get Rid of a Monster!"

Keep in mind Kid C has a cast on his right arm, so he's writing with his left, and that's why his handwriting is so bad. At least, that's what we tell ourselves.

I'll translate his story for you:

"Find a light place to sleep, and find a knife and stab it behind its back and scare the monster, then you put his lifeless body in the cold sea."









His teacher made him do it over again, with the instruction to "Rewrite with no VIOLENCE"

I understand that schools have a zero-tolerance policy regarding violence, and we whole-heartedly agree with this policy. We love our teacher and understand why she had to say something.

I do, however, have a problem with the assignment if you can't answer with violence. How else are you supposed to get rid of a monster?  I'm sorry, but if I were facing a monster, the last thing I would want is a hero who tries to kill it with kindness. Smother it with hugs. Slay it with butterflies and rainbows.

No, if I were facing a monster, I would want a hero who would find a light place to sleep (not sure how this tactic fits in with the whole thing), find a knife, stab it in the back and dump its limp, lifeless body in the cold sea.

Now if the question were, "How Do You Make Friends?" that would be different. I would not recommend this tactic. But in any other situation, I think Kid C's answer was perfect. 

If I incorporated this rule in my book, it would be a very different story. Of course, there is that one scene where the main character uses glitter to kill a dragon. 

What do you think?

How my Car Accident this Morning Dredged up Embarrassing Memories... which I will share with you.

So, I totally got in a car accident. 

Just now. Like ten minutes ago.

I was on my way home from a celebratory breakfast, which is like a celibatory breakfast, only more fun, when I got rear-ended. 

It happened as I was trying to turn right onto a busier street and I was at a red light. 

You know how you inch out? Well, I was inching out. And the guy behind me decided to go on ahead and turn right. But I was in front of him. He smashed into me.

I'm not mad. I can understand how bad the guy feels. 

This one time, in a similar situation, I was trying to turn right at a red light. I thought the car in front of me had gone. I was looking left, waiting for a break in the traffic, and I must have let up on the brake because suddenly I felt a bump, and when I looked up, I was really close to the car in front of me. 

You know that feeling, when you hear metal on metal? Yeah, it sucks. The car in front turned the corner and I followed, thinking we were looking for a place to pull over, call the cops, and exchange information. 

But he didn't pull over. 

We passed a grocery store, and I thought okay, he'll pull over in that parking lot.

He didn't.

He started to pick up speed, so I sped up behind him, thinking, Why is he going so darn fast? I just rear-ended him!

I honked and waved, but all he did was press on the gas. 

All sorts of scenarios passed through my brain. Maybe he was a criminal. Maybe he was a wanted man, and couldn't risk police attention. Maybe he was on his way to bomb a building, and didn't have time to swap insurance cards.

Then he entered the on ramp to the freeway. Going the opposite direction I was going. I didn't follow, because, hey, I did my part. I tried.

But inside, I was so relieved that this possible serial killer - or maybe a bank robber - ditched me. 

When I got home, I checked the front of my car to assess the damage. But the bumper was in pristine condition. 

Weird, because the jolt from the accident was rather large. 

Then I went around to the back of the car. There was a huge dent in the fender.

And it all dawned on me. 

Yep, I was the one who had gotten rear-ended. I was the one who had raced away, like a wanted serial killer. 

It was not my proudest moment.

I'm Back on the Blog, and I brought a Friend, who is really good at Counting Down to EVERNEATH

Hey y'all.

I am emerging from the writing cave! It is bright out here.

Here's what's been going on since we last talked.

1. Um... I've been writing.

And I have to say the sequel to EVERNEATH is coming along. Which is good because it's due tomorrow.

2. EVERNEATH comes out in four months. FOUR MONTHS! And three days. THREE DAYS!

And if you're like me, and you have trouble counting backward from the higher numbers like 8, I have the perfect thing for you.

Presenting... the EVERNEATH countdown widget! I shall call him Widgy, and we shall play and play.

Get the <a href="http://www.widgetbox.com/i/9a163bc8-b... Creator Pro</a> widget and many other <a href="http://www.widgetbox.com/"&a... free widgets</a> at <a href="http://www.widgetbox.com"&am...! Not seeing a widget? (<a href="http://docs.widgetbox.com/using-widge... info</a>)



Would you like Widgy for your own blog sidebar? Then you are in luck. All you have to do is press on the doohickee at the bottom of Widgy and then there will be some sort of html code-a-ma-thingee that you can add to your blog. 

Sorry for all the technical terms. Many thanks to Katie Wood Ruffin who was kind enough to make Widgy.

3. I sent my youngest, kid B off to Kindergarten. 

Could he possibly look any smaller?
I always make fun of those moms who shed a tear when their kids make it to kindergarten. Monday was no exception. I had the best insults at the ready.

But my censure of those moms was muffled by the snot draining from my nose and the waterworks running from my eyes.

All my excellent jabs toward them were interrupted by sniffles, and the delivery was stifled, and eventually those other wimpy moms just walked away, and I ran after them, blowing my nose on my shirt and slipping on my own tears, because they had to know that this was supposed to be a day of celebration, and they were being ridiculous.



My kindergartener.
The final blow was when Kid B, who has a difficult time talking, looked at me as I was leaving, and said, "I go home now?"

And I said, "No. You get to stay and have fun."

And he looked all around the classroom - so unsure of everything going on - and then back at me and said, "No, I go home now."

So I ripped open my chest and handed him my beating heart, and told him to hold on to it until we were together again.

He ended up having a great day. And they only lost him once. Yeah, true story. It's awesome when other moms in the neighborhood tell you, "Hey! My kid said they lost kid B!" And you're the last to know...

So, dear friends, what's going on with you? Thank you so much for being nice to the guest bloggers, Sam and my mom. They felt so at home, they begged to blog some more.

Guest Blogger Extraordinaire: Brodi's Mom

Please welcome our guest blogger... My mom. No, I am not desperate.



At a recent family gathering, Brodi asked if anyone present wanted to be a guest blogger.  I immediately raised my hand and shrieked, "Pick me!  Pick me!" 

No one else raised their hand or their voice.  Apparently Brodi didn't notice, because she cleared her throat and asked with exaggerated enunciation, "I said, does anyone want to be a guest blogger?"

Against a backdrop of deafening silence and with absolutely no reduction in enthusiasm, my hand shot up again as I chanted with grating annoyance, "Pick me!  Pick me!" thus dispelling the myth that if you ignore me, I will go away.  I am the consummate irritant.

No one but her mother would have detected the barely perceptible eye roll when she acquiesced and replied, "Oh Kay-yay!  You can blo-ogg!"

I won!  I won!  By default, yes, BUT I WON!!!

Brodi stipulated that first I had to introduce myself, preferably in simple sentences.  OK! OK!  I have thumbs.  I can do that!  Here goes.

I am Brodi's mom. 

For those of you who don't know me, I am 5'7", naturally blond, I am frequently mistaken for Angeline Jolie  (must be the lips!)  and I have an advanced degree in astrophysics from Harvard.

For those of you who DO know me, I am still in the 12-step recovery program for pathological liars. 

I have always loved words.  They have such power, and can convey such emotion.  I especially like the newest entries included in the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary.  So in an effort to further describe myself in officially current vernacular, I am not a "cougar," but I share my daughters' intense admiration for Rafa Nadal.  At the moment I am sporting a serious "muffin top," my only claim to curves.  I do not chirp, peep, "tweet," or feed my Twitter.  I do, however, "fist bump,"  "crowdsource," and show my "guns" upon request. Well, enough about me.  I'll be available later for questions. On to the blog.



Summer ended abruptly last week.  Autumn debuted at 6:00 Monday morning in a flurry of backpacks, notebooks, peanut butter sandwiches and a whole bunch of kids with sun-bleached hair.

There's a certain nostalgia about the first day of school. Memories and recollections flood our minds. Time is not divided into seasons, but determined by which teacher and what grade each kid is assigned. As a grandma, I want to sprint full throttle ahead and wrap a protective shield of arm flab around my little tribe so nothing can harm them.  Grandmas are hard-wired to run interference for their team.  It is not an easy task to allow fledglings to try their wings without saturating the earth with feathers.





Especially kid C.  You'd think that after a broken clavicle and his grandpa stitching multiple facial cuts, I would be hardened to childhood wounds.  Not so.  I am still jarred by the flow of blood or protruding bones.  DNA is a pretty powerful binding agent.

This past Saturday, Dennis and I became soccer nomads, attending 4 out of 5 scheduled games of our grandkids.  Each child seems genuinely happy when we exceed the prescribed neighborhood decibel level with unrestrained cheering, since we do not own vuvuzelas. 





Every one of our posse made us proud, especially kid C.  In spite of a broken elbow held together with pins and a bright Runnin' Utes red cast on his arm, he played his scheduled game.  Brodi had bound him in bubble wrap to buffer any blunt force trauma to the injury site, so much so that we could have FedEx'ed him anywhere in the world. But there is always risk of freak accidents.  I tried not to worry.  I failed.  Although I do think total body bubble wrap may just be the answer to Grandma angst.  What a little warrior.

After the game, we attempted a high five, but due to the location and immobility of his cast, we settled for fist bumps.  We're nothing if not adaptable.  It was a nice moment.

We love Brodi's blog and her gift for creative expression.  She looks at things, but she also sees through things.There are times we think her muse is on steroids.  But we particularly enjoy the many and varied comments that complete her thoughts.  We feel like we know everyone personally, and we've learned so much from you.  Sometimes life is like a hurricane – an organized storm around a well-defined eye. Hurricanes happen.  To everyone. You have supported us, encouraged us, and allowed us to feel your love with words of comfort and joy.  This has helped calm the storms that rage. We were advised to surround ourselves with people who believe we can do hard things.  You are part of that.  I guess it is true we are all connected. This is a good thing.

 I appreciate the opportunity to sit in Brodi's chair, share some thoughts and express our appreciation. Of course, she tells it like it is.  I tell it like it ought to be. So the next time she asks if anyone wants to be a guest blogger, there will be a thunderous "Pick me!" heard round the world!  I'll be back![image error]