Brodi Ashton's Blog, page 21
March 21, 2011
My Date with Rafa (video included)... and Some Other Guys were there too.
Howdy y'all.
I'm back. I'm sunburned. And I saw Rafa perform his most famous move ever...
Yes, that is firsthand video of Rafa picking his wedgie, a feat he tackles before every single point.
I also saw him do some of this:
His unreturnable serve- A feat almost as difficult and intricate as the wedgie-pick.
Yep. I was in tennis heaven. At one point Rafa and his teammate looked like they were in trouble, and so I pulled a move from one of my favorite movies The Natural, where the mysterious woman in white stands in the crowd and inspires Robert Redford out of his slump.
Then they live happily ever after.
Glenn Close, willing her lover to do better.
The only problem was, I left my white hat in the car (true story) and my spare hat was camouflage. So I stood up and immediately blended in with my surroundings.
The mysterious woman in beige. Not the same effect.
It was okay. Rafa and the other guy eeked out the win. In an interview afterward, Rafa said he felt something magical from the crowd, but when he turned to look, he didn't see anyone. Stupid camouflage hat.
I also surprised my parents with second-row tickets for their anniversary to see Roger Federer.
Federer, up close and hot. Also, hawt.
Federer totally dominated his opponent. He took the first set 6-0, and was up 2-0 in the second set when the other guy (Chela) finally won a game.
The crowd went nuts, trying to support the wounded underdog. Chela smiled and waved, and when the noise died down, he said loudly, "It's okay, Fed. Shake it off. You've got this." So funny.
Palm Springs by the Numbers:
Number on the thermometer: 90
Number of rows separating me from Federer: 2
Number on the sunscreen bottle: 70
Number of icy lemonades ingested: 42
Number of wedgie picks: 864 (862 from Rafa, 2 from me)
Number of times my mom told the people around us that they were sitting next to a soon-to-be-famous author: 1,748.
Thanks, mom.
I'll have more about the second half of our trip (Disneyland) on Wednesday, featuring standing in line behind Punky Brewster. For reals. No lie.
So, how was all y'all's week? Sorry I couldn't blog. There are only two kinds of hotels that don't offer wi-fi: the really really expensive ones, and the really really cheap ones. Guess which one we were in?
And what do you think of Rafa's wedgie pick?
I'm back. I'm sunburned. And I saw Rafa perform his most famous move ever...
Yes, that is firsthand video of Rafa picking his wedgie, a feat he tackles before every single point.
I also saw him do some of this:
His unreturnable serve- A feat almost as difficult and intricate as the wedgie-pick.
Yep. I was in tennis heaven. At one point Rafa and his teammate looked like they were in trouble, and so I pulled a move from one of my favorite movies The Natural, where the mysterious woman in white stands in the crowd and inspires Robert Redford out of his slump.
Then they live happily ever after.
Glenn Close, willing her lover to do better.
The only problem was, I left my white hat in the car (true story) and my spare hat was camouflage. So I stood up and immediately blended in with my surroundings.
The mysterious woman in beige. Not the same effect.
It was okay. Rafa and the other guy eeked out the win. In an interview afterward, Rafa said he felt something magical from the crowd, but when he turned to look, he didn't see anyone. Stupid camouflage hat.
I also surprised my parents with second-row tickets for their anniversary to see Roger Federer.
Federer, up close and hot. Also, hawt.
Federer totally dominated his opponent. He took the first set 6-0, and was up 2-0 in the second set when the other guy (Chela) finally won a game.
The crowd went nuts, trying to support the wounded underdog. Chela smiled and waved, and when the noise died down, he said loudly, "It's okay, Fed. Shake it off. You've got this." So funny.
Palm Springs by the Numbers:
Number on the thermometer: 90
Number of rows separating me from Federer: 2
Number on the sunscreen bottle: 70
Number of icy lemonades ingested: 42
Number of wedgie picks: 864 (862 from Rafa, 2 from me)
Number of times my mom told the people around us that they were sitting next to a soon-to-be-famous author: 1,748.
Thanks, mom.
I'll have more about the second half of our trip (Disneyland) on Wednesday, featuring standing in line behind Punky Brewster. For reals. No lie.
So, how was all y'all's week? Sorry I couldn't blog. There are only two kinds of hotels that don't offer wi-fi: the really really expensive ones, and the really really cheap ones. Guess which one we were in?
And what do you think of Rafa's wedgie pick?
March 14, 2011
Sitting in the Airport
So, I'm sitting in the airport, waiting for my flight to Palm Springs to board. Don't believe me?
Me. Trying not to look stupid while taking my own picture.
I'm not sure why someone wouldn't believe me, but I felt the picture was necessary.
Here are some headlines I anticipate for this trip:
1. Brodi Spends half of Advance for front row seats to see Rafa do this:
2. Brodi and Rafa will become best friends, just like she always dreamed. (Seriously, she has this dream several nights a week. Nothing naughty, they're strictly platonic. They just have so much in common. She also likes to pick her wedgies.
3. Kid C picks a fight with all the Pirates of the Caribbean.
4. Kid B pukes on the plane. It's okay, Sam's flying with the kids separately. I'll be safely out of the splash zone.
5. Disney will overcharge us for the privilege of existing in the happiest place on earth.
Ope. We're boarding. Will blog later!
Love you all.
Bro
Me. Trying not to look stupid while taking my own picture.
I'm not sure why someone wouldn't believe me, but I felt the picture was necessary.
Here are some headlines I anticipate for this trip:
1. Brodi Spends half of Advance for front row seats to see Rafa do this:
2. Brodi and Rafa will become best friends, just like she always dreamed. (Seriously, she has this dream several nights a week. Nothing naughty, they're strictly platonic. They just have so much in common. She also likes to pick her wedgies.
3. Kid C picks a fight with all the Pirates of the Caribbean.
4. Kid B pukes on the plane. It's okay, Sam's flying with the kids separately. I'll be safely out of the splash zone.
5. Disney will overcharge us for the privilege of existing in the happiest place on earth.
Ope. We're boarding. Will blog later!
Love you all.
Bro
March 11, 2011
I'll Pack my Bags, and Keep my Eyes Fixed on the Sun
This weekend, I'll be packing.
Because next week, I'm going to be here:
Watching this guy:
Rafa and his bicep.
And these guys:
Roddick and Roger Federer
Do this:
And this:
Can you guess what I'm doing?
Just kidding. It should be obvious. I'm going to Disneyland. But before I see Mickey, I'm meeting my parents, and my secret lover Rafa, down in Palm Springs for the BNP Paribas Open.
I'll be tweeting pictures live from the event, so if you want to follow along, you can find me here: http://twitter.com/Brodiashton.
I can't wait, because I love tennis, and I get to spend time with my dad. And I need to feel the sun shine on my face. Blogging will be sporadic, but if I have wi-fi, I will blog.
We're going to have an extra day in L.A. Anyone have any ideas on what we should see? The Grove? Some sort of famous chinese theater? I need ideas!
Because next week, I'm going to be here:
Watching this guy:
Rafa and his bicep.
And these guys:
Roddick and Roger Federer
Do this:
And this:
Can you guess what I'm doing?
Just kidding. It should be obvious. I'm going to Disneyland. But before I see Mickey, I'm meeting my parents, and my secret lover Rafa, down in Palm Springs for the BNP Paribas Open.
I'll be tweeting pictures live from the event, so if you want to follow along, you can find me here: http://twitter.com/Brodiashton.
I can't wait, because I love tennis, and I get to spend time with my dad. And I need to feel the sun shine on my face. Blogging will be sporadic, but if I have wi-fi, I will blog.
We're going to have an extra day in L.A. Anyone have any ideas on what we should see? The Grove? Some sort of famous chinese theater? I need ideas!
March 9, 2011
Yes, Write what you Know, but also, Write what you DON'T KNOW: Some backstory to EVERNEATH
Wanna hear something crazy?
EVERNEATH was not my first attempt at a book. It wasn't even my first finished book.
I completed EVERNEATH about 7 years after my first attempt, which was a really stupid chick-lit novel, about a woman who has a baby and thinks her life is over. (Kid C had just been born, but that totally didn't have anything to do with it.) The main character sat in a corner and cried a lot, occasionally sneaking sideways glances at the nuclear device across the room, otherwise known as a baby.
Me, wondering about a return policy.
I never finished the book, because in my mind, there was only one logical conclusion: The device goes off, everyone dies. And who says chick-lit has run its course?
I was writing what I knew, and what I knew was Post partum depression. Of course, at the time, I didn't know it was "post partum depression". I thought it was "Why didn't everyone tell me my life would suck after children? Is this like the best kept secret, because misery loves company?"
I got help.
Three years later, I had two children, and I thought for sure any attempt to write would be lost among diapers and baby bottles.
If we'd had a third, I totally could've fit all three in here.
But then, like most people, I adapted. I found minutes here and there, stuck between the couch cushions, behind the toaster, hidden in my husband's sock drawer. The more minutes I found, the more I strung them together until I had a routine. (Also, I stopped cooking. Never looked back).
And out of that routine, I wrote my very first book. And completed it! I loved my little book, and I knew my little book and I were going to go far.
No, it wasn't EVERNEATH.
Again, I wrote about what I knew. My first book was about a snarky, blond-haired, teenage school reporter, who also happened to moonlight as an alien-hunter. Besides the teenage part and the alien-hunter part, the character was me. Or at least, my voice. So easy to write. Just like writing this blog.
I revised and revised and soon I found an agent. Then we revised and revised, and submitted my book.
And here's where everything stalled. Kiersten White had a great post on this the other day, where she likened the process to two diverging lines at Disneyland. You never know how fast... or how slow... your line is going to go.
Everyone wants the same thing: to get on the boat! And get published.
I watched as some of my friends, who were at about the same point in their careers as me, shot to the front, hopped on the ride, and proceeded directly to the moon, where they lassoed the stars and brought them from the heavens to replace their porch lights.
While my book floundered.
I met Richard Peck at the SCBWI L.A. conference almost two years ago, and he asked me what I was doing while I was waiting to hear back from editors.
I answered enthusiastically, lying out of my arse. "I'm writing the next book, of course!"
The problem was, every book I wrote sounded exactly like my first book: same plucky teenage heroine, who kicks-a while simultaneously making witty comments.
Sam said to me one day, after reading some of my work, "You're never going to be able to write a different character."
And I was all, "But I want to write about a strong female!"
Sam: "Are snark and pluck the only things that make a female strong?"
To me, them there were fightin' words. Partially because I like to fight, but partially because he was right.
I thought of the opposite of that first character. Maybe a dark-haired, broken girl, who sometimes doesn't have the right things to say. Maybe her strength isn't as easy to pinpoint at first. Maybe it comes from somewhere besides the funny bone. Maybe it comes from a dark place.
Maybe she wasn't always like this, but she'd been through something unspeakable.
The question was: what had she been through?
And that's how EVERNEATH was started: as an exercise to prove my husband wrong (which is reward enough in itself), a challenge to test myself, a concerted effort to WRITE WHAT I DON'T KNOW.
The more I pushed against my own boundaries as a writer, the more I realized that maybe this wasn't just an exercise. I fell in love with the book, and after my first book crashed and burned in submission hell, I couldn't wait to go through it all again with EVERNEATH.
And that love would be tested. Without going into too much detail, at one point I had to choose between my faith in EVERNEATH, and my first agent. Never underestimate the importance of finding an agent who is passionate, PASSIONATE, about your book.
Maybe there's no better test for your bond to a book. I parted ways with my original agent (yes, I died a little) and found my better half Michael Bourret, who saw the same quiet strength in Nikki that I saw. And he just might be a brother from another mother.
Michael Bourret. He likes me and my book, just the way we are.
So, yeah, my particular Disneyland line hit a few twists and turns, and the occasional land mine, but in the end, it was MY line. I own it.
Those of you who are in line (and aren't we all?) own your line. OWN YOUR LINE. Write what you know. And sometimes, write what you don't know. See where it takes you. Try not to pay attention to other lines.
You'll never shed your skin if you don't stretch it.
So, what are your lines like? Any twists and turns you'd like to share?
EVERNEATH was not my first attempt at a book. It wasn't even my first finished book.
I completed EVERNEATH about 7 years after my first attempt, which was a really stupid chick-lit novel, about a woman who has a baby and thinks her life is over. (Kid C had just been born, but that totally didn't have anything to do with it.) The main character sat in a corner and cried a lot, occasionally sneaking sideways glances at the nuclear device across the room, otherwise known as a baby.
Me, wondering about a return policy.
I never finished the book, because in my mind, there was only one logical conclusion: The device goes off, everyone dies. And who says chick-lit has run its course?
I was writing what I knew, and what I knew was Post partum depression. Of course, at the time, I didn't know it was "post partum depression". I thought it was "Why didn't everyone tell me my life would suck after children? Is this like the best kept secret, because misery loves company?"
I got help.
Three years later, I had two children, and I thought for sure any attempt to write would be lost among diapers and baby bottles.
If we'd had a third, I totally could've fit all three in here.
But then, like most people, I adapted. I found minutes here and there, stuck between the couch cushions, behind the toaster, hidden in my husband's sock drawer. The more minutes I found, the more I strung them together until I had a routine. (Also, I stopped cooking. Never looked back).
And out of that routine, I wrote my very first book. And completed it! I loved my little book, and I knew my little book and I were going to go far.
No, it wasn't EVERNEATH.
Again, I wrote about what I knew. My first book was about a snarky, blond-haired, teenage school reporter, who also happened to moonlight as an alien-hunter. Besides the teenage part and the alien-hunter part, the character was me. Or at least, my voice. So easy to write. Just like writing this blog.
I revised and revised and soon I found an agent. Then we revised and revised, and submitted my book.
And here's where everything stalled. Kiersten White had a great post on this the other day, where she likened the process to two diverging lines at Disneyland. You never know how fast... or how slow... your line is going to go.
Everyone wants the same thing: to get on the boat! And get published.
I watched as some of my friends, who were at about the same point in their careers as me, shot to the front, hopped on the ride, and proceeded directly to the moon, where they lassoed the stars and brought them from the heavens to replace their porch lights.
While my book floundered.
I met Richard Peck at the SCBWI L.A. conference almost two years ago, and he asked me what I was doing while I was waiting to hear back from editors.
I answered enthusiastically, lying out of my arse. "I'm writing the next book, of course!"
The problem was, every book I wrote sounded exactly like my first book: same plucky teenage heroine, who kicks-a while simultaneously making witty comments.
Sam said to me one day, after reading some of my work, "You're never going to be able to write a different character."
And I was all, "But I want to write about a strong female!"
Sam: "Are snark and pluck the only things that make a female strong?"
To me, them there were fightin' words. Partially because I like to fight, but partially because he was right.
I thought of the opposite of that first character. Maybe a dark-haired, broken girl, who sometimes doesn't have the right things to say. Maybe her strength isn't as easy to pinpoint at first. Maybe it comes from somewhere besides the funny bone. Maybe it comes from a dark place.
Maybe she wasn't always like this, but she'd been through something unspeakable.
The question was: what had she been through?
And that's how EVERNEATH was started: as an exercise to prove my husband wrong (which is reward enough in itself), a challenge to test myself, a concerted effort to WRITE WHAT I DON'T KNOW.
The more I pushed against my own boundaries as a writer, the more I realized that maybe this wasn't just an exercise. I fell in love with the book, and after my first book crashed and burned in submission hell, I couldn't wait to go through it all again with EVERNEATH.
And that love would be tested. Without going into too much detail, at one point I had to choose between my faith in EVERNEATH, and my first agent. Never underestimate the importance of finding an agent who is passionate, PASSIONATE, about your book.
Maybe there's no better test for your bond to a book. I parted ways with my original agent (yes, I died a little) and found my better half Michael Bourret, who saw the same quiet strength in Nikki that I saw. And he just might be a brother from another mother.
Michael Bourret. He likes me and my book, just the way we are.
So, yeah, my particular Disneyland line hit a few twists and turns, and the occasional land mine, but in the end, it was MY line. I own it.
Those of you who are in line (and aren't we all?) own your line. OWN YOUR LINE. Write what you know. And sometimes, write what you don't know. See where it takes you. Try not to pay attention to other lines.
You'll never shed your skin if you don't stretch it.
So, what are your lines like? Any twists and turns you'd like to share?
March 7, 2011
My Trip with Doctor Who, and How a Small Child was Maimed at the Book Blogger Social
Happy Monday y'all.
How about some Thing 1 and Thing 1!
Thing 1:
Doctor Who visited me in my sleep last night. For those of you who don't know, Doctor Who is a time-travelling man/alien who saves the world a lot.
Dr. Who and Rose. They made me cry a lot.
Last night, I dreamed I got to go on one of his exciting adventures. Where would we end up? Ancient Rome? Shakespearean London? Or... a thousand years into the future?
No. He took me to 1989 to see the filming of that Patrick Swayze classic Roadhouse. You know, the one where Swayze plays a tough bouncer hired to straighten out a dirty bar?
It's his way... or the highway.
Yeah, I wasn't familiar with this movie either. I have no idea where it was hiding out in my sub conscience.
Before you ask, no, I didn't get to see Mr. Swayze utter his most famous lines:
"Pain don't hurt."
and
"Nobody ever wins a fight."
and finally,
"My way... or the highway."
I asked the Doctor what we were doing here, and he looked at me like, "Duh, it's your dream. Isn't that a question for your therapist?"
I'm inclined to agree with him.
Nobody ever "wins" a fight! Except the last guy standing...
Thing 1:
We went to the Utah Bool Blogger Social Saturday night. Utah is home to a staggering amount of book bloggers, and twice a year they get together to party with the local authors.
And when I say party, I mean party. Want proof? Check out this candid pic:
Authors Matt Kirby, Bree Despain, and myself.
Photo taken by Heather Gardner Photography.
This picture popped up on the internet after the party. I love it. Bree and I look thoroughly unimpressed, and Matt looks a little disgusted.
I'm here to tell you, that was not representative of the evening! Heather has promised to give us a little more notice before she snaps a candid picture next time.
Overheard at the party:
-Emily Wing Smith and I, taking turns to see who could cough up a lung first. (I won)
-Bree and Emily, having a discussion that involved the phrases, "Who did you fork that one time?"
It's not like it sounds. They have both had accidents where they nearly impaled a bystander with a fork.
-Matt Kirby said afterward that the "Who did you fork" conversation would make my blog. He claims his blog-worthy-statements-detection-skills are running at about 98%.
-During the book swap, Chersti Nieveen trampled a small child to get her hands on Emily Wing Smith's ARC of BACK WHEN YOU WERE EASIER TO LOVE.
-She later swore the child was really the devil's spawn, and deserved to be trampled.
Here's a picture of the unfortunate demon child:
Don't be fooled by her angelic disguise.
Here's a pic that better captures the spirit of the event.
Top: Matt Kirby, Bree Despain
Bottom: Chersti Nieveen, Emily Wing Smith, Leisha Maw
Because nothing screams "Party!" like Bree Despain wearing Princess Leia Buns made out of lightbulbs.
So, what did y'all do over the weekend? Were you at the social? (If so, give a holla in the comments). Did you see any good movies? Did you trample any small children?
How about some Thing 1 and Thing 1!
Thing 1:
Doctor Who visited me in my sleep last night. For those of you who don't know, Doctor Who is a time-travelling man/alien who saves the world a lot.
Dr. Who and Rose. They made me cry a lot.
Last night, I dreamed I got to go on one of his exciting adventures. Where would we end up? Ancient Rome? Shakespearean London? Or... a thousand years into the future?
No. He took me to 1989 to see the filming of that Patrick Swayze classic Roadhouse. You know, the one where Swayze plays a tough bouncer hired to straighten out a dirty bar?
It's his way... or the highway.
Yeah, I wasn't familiar with this movie either. I have no idea where it was hiding out in my sub conscience.
Before you ask, no, I didn't get to see Mr. Swayze utter his most famous lines:
"Pain don't hurt."
and
"Nobody ever wins a fight."
and finally,
"My way... or the highway."
I asked the Doctor what we were doing here, and he looked at me like, "Duh, it's your dream. Isn't that a question for your therapist?"
I'm inclined to agree with him.
Nobody ever "wins" a fight! Except the last guy standing...
Thing 1:
We went to the Utah Bool Blogger Social Saturday night. Utah is home to a staggering amount of book bloggers, and twice a year they get together to party with the local authors.
And when I say party, I mean party. Want proof? Check out this candid pic:
Authors Matt Kirby, Bree Despain, and myself.
Photo taken by Heather Gardner Photography.
This picture popped up on the internet after the party. I love it. Bree and I look thoroughly unimpressed, and Matt looks a little disgusted.
I'm here to tell you, that was not representative of the evening! Heather has promised to give us a little more notice before she snaps a candid picture next time.
Overheard at the party:
-Emily Wing Smith and I, taking turns to see who could cough up a lung first. (I won)
-Bree and Emily, having a discussion that involved the phrases, "Who did you fork that one time?"
It's not like it sounds. They have both had accidents where they nearly impaled a bystander with a fork.
-Matt Kirby said afterward that the "Who did you fork" conversation would make my blog. He claims his blog-worthy-statements-detection-skills are running at about 98%.
-During the book swap, Chersti Nieveen trampled a small child to get her hands on Emily Wing Smith's ARC of BACK WHEN YOU WERE EASIER TO LOVE.
-She later swore the child was really the devil's spawn, and deserved to be trampled.
Here's a picture of the unfortunate demon child:
Don't be fooled by her angelic disguise.
Here's a pic that better captures the spirit of the event.
Top: Matt Kirby, Bree Despain
Bottom: Chersti Nieveen, Emily Wing Smith, Leisha Maw
Because nothing screams "Party!" like Bree Despain wearing Princess Leia Buns made out of lightbulbs.
So, what did y'all do over the weekend? Were you at the social? (If so, give a holla in the comments). Did you see any good movies? Did you trample any small children?
March 4, 2011
The Treat Down my Shirt, and how I owe Phil Mickelson a Virtual Kiss on the Cheek
Happy Friday, yo.
*Don't forget to sign up with Windy A if you want to be included on a list of local (to Utah) bloggers to pass around an ARC of my book EVERNEATH.
1. So, last night my critique group (the SIX, ranked in order of crazy on the sidebar) had... a critique group. That sounds oddly redundant, but adequately explanatory. Anywho, here's a list of what everyone is working on:
Me: EVERNEATH 2, Revenge of the Na'vi,
Bree Despain: The Dark Divine 3: Daniel gets a Cavity,
Emily Wing Smith: Her next book about a quirky girl, a camcorder, and a television show. (I don't know if I'm allowed to share more.)
Kimberly Reid is working on Haunted: an awesome story that will change the way you think about time and space forever.
Sara Bolton: Mostly she is working on feeding and changing her newborn, who has a tendency to puke on cue, especially when confronted with stupid questions.
Emmi Bolton, in a rare non-puking moment.
On the side, she is working on a Historical fantasy, about a girl who becomes a knight.
Valynne Nagamatsu: A collaborative book about a girl and a boy obsessed with making horror movies.
For aspiring writers, I can't stress enough the importance of finding a good critique group who understands you and your work. I can honestly say I wouldn't be published if it weren't for these writers.
So, last night, during the discussion, I went to pop a cough drop in my mouth. But I accidentally missed (Hey, aiming for your mouth is hard, especially without a mirror) and the cough drop went down my shirt to where it nestled comfortably in my cleavage.
I dug around to pull it out, and along with the cough drop I pulled out a piece of popcorn.
Well, where would you store yours?
My friends started cracking up. They asked me when I had last eaten popcorn. I told them I had it for breakfast (because it's smart to start the day with nutrition). So the popcorn had been stuck down my shirt for about 12 hours without me noticing.
I asked Sam what he thought this event said about me.
Sam: "I think it's a testament to the breadth of your cleavage."
Me: "Please, for the love of everything, don't ever say 'testament to the breadth of your cleavage' ever again. Never ever."
2. A couple of days ago, my dad and mom went down to Houston, TX, to MD Anderson Hospital. (Known for their awesome cancer-fighting ninja skills).
At first he couldn't get in, because MD Anderson is in high demand, and we weren't being successful in jumping through the right hoops. So we pulled every string we could think of, and called in every favor, which resulted in Phil Mickelson...
Yeah, this guy...
...calling his good friend, the head doctor at MD Anderson. An hour later, my dad's cell phone rang, and it was the head doctor. He arranged for my parents to get in with a pancreatic cancer specialist later that week.
The doctor was blunt, spirited, and quick to tell my dad his first mistake is thinking there's no effective way to treat this disease. He then detailed a plan A,B,C,D, and E for extending my dad's life.
I love doctors like this, and I'm grateful for people like Phil Mickelson who would do my family a solid. *High-fives Phil* *Slices one wide right, just for him*
Okay. This post is way too long.
Anyone going to the Utah book blogger social tomorrow night? Anyone doing anything fun this weekend? Can you join me in thanking Phil? Anyone know how I can get ahold of Lance Armstrong's doctor? We might as well assemble the best team possible...
*Don't forget to sign up with Windy A if you want to be included on a list of local (to Utah) bloggers to pass around an ARC of my book EVERNEATH.
1. So, last night my critique group (the SIX, ranked in order of crazy on the sidebar) had... a critique group. That sounds oddly redundant, but adequately explanatory. Anywho, here's a list of what everyone is working on:
Me: EVERNEATH 2, Revenge of the Na'vi,
Bree Despain: The Dark Divine 3: Daniel gets a Cavity,
Emily Wing Smith: Her next book about a quirky girl, a camcorder, and a television show. (I don't know if I'm allowed to share more.)
Kimberly Reid is working on Haunted: an awesome story that will change the way you think about time and space forever.
Sara Bolton: Mostly she is working on feeding and changing her newborn, who has a tendency to puke on cue, especially when confronted with stupid questions.
Emmi Bolton, in a rare non-puking moment.
On the side, she is working on a Historical fantasy, about a girl who becomes a knight.
Valynne Nagamatsu: A collaborative book about a girl and a boy obsessed with making horror movies.
For aspiring writers, I can't stress enough the importance of finding a good critique group who understands you and your work. I can honestly say I wouldn't be published if it weren't for these writers.
So, last night, during the discussion, I went to pop a cough drop in my mouth. But I accidentally missed (Hey, aiming for your mouth is hard, especially without a mirror) and the cough drop went down my shirt to where it nestled comfortably in my cleavage.
I dug around to pull it out, and along with the cough drop I pulled out a piece of popcorn.
Well, where would you store yours?
My friends started cracking up. They asked me when I had last eaten popcorn. I told them I had it for breakfast (because it's smart to start the day with nutrition). So the popcorn had been stuck down my shirt for about 12 hours without me noticing.
I asked Sam what he thought this event said about me.
Sam: "I think it's a testament to the breadth of your cleavage."
Me: "Please, for the love of everything, don't ever say 'testament to the breadth of your cleavage' ever again. Never ever."
2. A couple of days ago, my dad and mom went down to Houston, TX, to MD Anderson Hospital. (Known for their awesome cancer-fighting ninja skills).
At first he couldn't get in, because MD Anderson is in high demand, and we weren't being successful in jumping through the right hoops. So we pulled every string we could think of, and called in every favor, which resulted in Phil Mickelson...
Yeah, this guy...
...calling his good friend, the head doctor at MD Anderson. An hour later, my dad's cell phone rang, and it was the head doctor. He arranged for my parents to get in with a pancreatic cancer specialist later that week.
The doctor was blunt, spirited, and quick to tell my dad his first mistake is thinking there's no effective way to treat this disease. He then detailed a plan A,B,C,D, and E for extending my dad's life.
I love doctors like this, and I'm grateful for people like Phil Mickelson who would do my family a solid. *High-fives Phil* *Slices one wide right, just for him*
Okay. This post is way too long.
Anyone going to the Utah book blogger social tomorrow night? Anyone doing anything fun this weekend? Can you join me in thanking Phil? Anyone know how I can get ahold of Lance Armstrong's doctor? We might as well assemble the best team possible...
March 2, 2011
The Story to Topple the Story that Topples Star Wars, and Locals can read Everneath early
Hey y'all.
Three Things!
1. If you thought Monday's post had a bargain, wait til you see this. (Thanks to F.O.B. Leisha for pointing this out).
For sale is: The Story to Topple the Story that Topples Star Wars.
And it only costs $53.78 to buy it outright.
The seller description is pretty funny too, if you want to check it out.
2. Last night, I was working in my study with the door locked. Suddenly Kid B was knocking on the door, saying what sounded like, "Hat! Monny Hat!" Before I could answer, he ran away. Now, if you are a regular to my blog, you know that Kid B doesn't really talk. So I assumed he was just talking nonsense. I went out to find him, and apparently, "Hat" was exactly what he was saying.
Because nobody would want work on their computer while stark naked. That's just wrong.
He's fully nekked otherwise, but at least he has his hat on. Otherwise, it would be embarrassing.
3. Are you in Utah? Do you want to read my book before it comes out?
F.O.B. (Friend of the Blog) Windy Aphayrath is kindly organizing a locals only blogger tour of an ARC of EVERNEATH. (That's my book, in case I haven't mentioned it.) We won't have ARC's for a few months, but I'm dedicating one of my personal copies to this tour!
If you are interested in getting on the list, sign up at her blog: http://windyaphayrath.blogspot.com/2011/03/for-everneath.html.
I'm so grateful she's taking the time to organize this! So go on over and sign up!
That is all. This weekend I'm going to the Utah Blogger/Author Social. Anyone else going?
Anyone new to the blog and you want to introduce yourself? Any lurkers out there want to de-lurk and say "Hi"?
Don't be scared. We don't bite. And we're only deadly when it comes to our fish.
Three Things!
1. If you thought Monday's post had a bargain, wait til you see this. (Thanks to F.O.B. Leisha for pointing this out).
For sale is: The Story to Topple the Story that Topples Star Wars.
And it only costs $53.78 to buy it outright.
The seller description is pretty funny too, if you want to check it out.
2. Last night, I was working in my study with the door locked. Suddenly Kid B was knocking on the door, saying what sounded like, "Hat! Monny Hat!" Before I could answer, he ran away. Now, if you are a regular to my blog, you know that Kid B doesn't really talk. So I assumed he was just talking nonsense. I went out to find him, and apparently, "Hat" was exactly what he was saying.
Because nobody would want work on their computer while stark naked. That's just wrong.
He's fully nekked otherwise, but at least he has his hat on. Otherwise, it would be embarrassing.
3. Are you in Utah? Do you want to read my book before it comes out?
F.O.B. (Friend of the Blog) Windy Aphayrath is kindly organizing a locals only blogger tour of an ARC of EVERNEATH. (That's my book, in case I haven't mentioned it.) We won't have ARC's for a few months, but I'm dedicating one of my personal copies to this tour!
If you are interested in getting on the list, sign up at her blog: http://windyaphayrath.blogspot.com/2011/03/for-everneath.html.
I'm so grateful she's taking the time to organize this! So go on over and sign up!
That is all. This weekend I'm going to the Utah Blogger/Author Social. Anyone else going?
Anyone new to the blog and you want to introduce yourself? Any lurkers out there want to de-lurk and say "Hi"?
Don't be scared. We don't bite. And we're only deadly when it comes to our fish.
February 28, 2011
Tired of Looking for the Best Story Idea Ever? For the low low price of millions, this could be yours...
Howdy, y'all.
I learned today that I took the ignorant road to getting published. I wrote a book (by myself) and then found an agent who found me an editor who paid me for my book. (Okay, that sentence is hilarious in how short it makes the process sound. Please know that spliced in there are years and years of rejection and pain and fingernails being ripped out. I took the extremely torturous road.)
Well, prepare to have your mind blown.
Yesterday Sam and I ran across this ad in eBay. For sale: "a STORY to topple Star Wars, Harry potter investment."
Here is the description of the "Story Idea" and what you would be purchasing. I have to admit, it got me thinking. And to include y'all, I've added my thoughts in red.
I am selling my story that I have been creating for 10+ years. (not constantly writing, but of piecing everything together in a cohesive manner) It can be compared to stories like Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Matrix, Indiana Jones and other titles in those categories. [Why didn't I think to pitch my book as: "It's Star Wars meets Harry Potter, sprinkled with Lord of the Rings and a dash of Matrix. And when they all spent a night in a hotel together, nine months later Indiana Jones was born."] This is a really great story I have. [Pinky swear]. This story needs to be completed by a professional writer or Ghost Writer. I am by no means a writer. [I beg to differ. This stuff's great.]
I would rather not sell it at all and just find investors to help hire a celebrity Ghost Writer, which would cost 250,000. [Hence the 3 million dollar starting bid.] The company that hires these writers out, guarantee the book to be a New York best seller. [I didn't get such a guarantee. I want my money back. Oh wait... I didn't give them money.] From my understanding, a celebrity ghost writer [=a celebrity who prefers to write books anonymously. This species is very rare.] is someone who has written many books for others that have become "best sellers" and are at a point in their writing career to produce these best sellers often.
But for me, finding an investor seems impossible, it takes money to make money. [Someone should write that down].
If George Lucas offered to sell his idea of Star Wars, would you have bought it? [Yes. For 3 million dollars exactly.]
This is a serious auction, I'm not looking to rip anyone off. [Of course not. Why would we think that?] If you win this auction and decide you don't like the story, then you don't have to pay, and you will be refunded fully. [As long as you have the receipt within thirty days. Otherwise, how will he know you bought the story at his store, and not his competitor's?]
I would like to meet in person so that I can pass my works on. [This sounds very appropriate.]
I will share my story with someone in person only and not over the internet. [Like any good STD]. My story is too valuable to be spread publicly and will give a lot of new ideas for movies and book series that should belong to the buyer.
ebay requires a physical object to be purchased. This is a CD with my story, as well as printed material, as well as verbal information from me. This will be exchanged person to person. [3 mil will get you a used CD, used paper, and words. This is a very good price. I saw this previously on RealDeals for 4 mil.]
This story will bring in endless fame and money to anyone who takes it.[Along with a monkey's paw, and this new designer outfit that only looks invisible, but really is made with the finest thread, fit for an emperor.] I do not have money to hire a Ghost Writer and I do not want to die with this story untold.
And for the people reading this post who think I'm crazy for asking this amount of money for it; this kind of money is a drop in the bucket for large corporations. If it sounds like too much money then you are not the kind of buyer I'm looking for.[Thus excluding everyone except Donald Trump.]
I am not making fun, because in this crazy world, this man could very well get his millions, and the rest of us will be left kicking ourselves at the missed opportunity.
So, what do y'all think? Do you have any ideas on what his story is about? Would you have bought Star Wars? Do you think this seller has a google alert and will track down my blog and commit acts of violence "in person"?
Can you top this tagline: "It's Harry Potter meets Star Wars"?
I was thinking: "It's the Greatest Story Ever Told meets Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus."
What are yours?
I learned today that I took the ignorant road to getting published. I wrote a book (by myself) and then found an agent who found me an editor who paid me for my book. (Okay, that sentence is hilarious in how short it makes the process sound. Please know that spliced in there are years and years of rejection and pain and fingernails being ripped out. I took the extremely torturous road.)
Well, prepare to have your mind blown.
Yesterday Sam and I ran across this ad in eBay. For sale: "a STORY to topple Star Wars, Harry potter investment."
Here is the description of the "Story Idea" and what you would be purchasing. I have to admit, it got me thinking. And to include y'all, I've added my thoughts in red.
I am selling my story that I have been creating for 10+ years. (not constantly writing, but of piecing everything together in a cohesive manner) It can be compared to stories like Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Matrix, Indiana Jones and other titles in those categories. [Why didn't I think to pitch my book as: "It's Star Wars meets Harry Potter, sprinkled with Lord of the Rings and a dash of Matrix. And when they all spent a night in a hotel together, nine months later Indiana Jones was born."] This is a really great story I have. [Pinky swear]. This story needs to be completed by a professional writer or Ghost Writer. I am by no means a writer. [I beg to differ. This stuff's great.]
I would rather not sell it at all and just find investors to help hire a celebrity Ghost Writer, which would cost 250,000. [Hence the 3 million dollar starting bid.] The company that hires these writers out, guarantee the book to be a New York best seller. [I didn't get such a guarantee. I want my money back. Oh wait... I didn't give them money.] From my understanding, a celebrity ghost writer [=a celebrity who prefers to write books anonymously. This species is very rare.] is someone who has written many books for others that have become "best sellers" and are at a point in their writing career to produce these best sellers often.
But for me, finding an investor seems impossible, it takes money to make money. [Someone should write that down].
If George Lucas offered to sell his idea of Star Wars, would you have bought it? [Yes. For 3 million dollars exactly.]
This is a serious auction, I'm not looking to rip anyone off. [Of course not. Why would we think that?] If you win this auction and decide you don't like the story, then you don't have to pay, and you will be refunded fully. [As long as you have the receipt within thirty days. Otherwise, how will he know you bought the story at his store, and not his competitor's?]
I would like to meet in person so that I can pass my works on. [This sounds very appropriate.]
I will share my story with someone in person only and not over the internet. [Like any good STD]. My story is too valuable to be spread publicly and will give a lot of new ideas for movies and book series that should belong to the buyer.
ebay requires a physical object to be purchased. This is a CD with my story, as well as printed material, as well as verbal information from me. This will be exchanged person to person. [3 mil will get you a used CD, used paper, and words. This is a very good price. I saw this previously on RealDeals for 4 mil.]
This story will bring in endless fame and money to anyone who takes it.[Along with a monkey's paw, and this new designer outfit that only looks invisible, but really is made with the finest thread, fit for an emperor.] I do not have money to hire a Ghost Writer and I do not want to die with this story untold.
And for the people reading this post who think I'm crazy for asking this amount of money for it; this kind of money is a drop in the bucket for large corporations. If it sounds like too much money then you are not the kind of buyer I'm looking for.[Thus excluding everyone except Donald Trump.]
I am not making fun, because in this crazy world, this man could very well get his millions, and the rest of us will be left kicking ourselves at the missed opportunity.
So, what do y'all think? Do you have any ideas on what his story is about? Would you have bought Star Wars? Do you think this seller has a google alert and will track down my blog and commit acts of violence "in person"?
Can you top this tagline: "It's Harry Potter meets Star Wars"?
I was thinking: "It's the Greatest Story Ever Told meets Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus."
What are yours?
February 25, 2011
LK Madigan, and the Question of Why
A brief timeout from regular programming:
If you are tuned in to the YA twitter scene at all, you may have heard that the YA world lost an author a couple of days ago. She was 47 years old.
The YA writer community is uniquely small. I didn't know LK Madigan (Lisa Wolfson) personally, but I know her books, Flash Burnout and the Mermaid's Chair. And I know her dear friends. My heart is aching for them right now.
And I know her disease. Last month, Lisa announced on her blog her diagnosis of Pancreatic Cancer, the same disease my dad is fighting right now.
The question everyone seems to ask, and never get an answer to, is, why?
Why her? Why my dad? Why so young?
Does everything really happen for a reason? Are we supposed to learn some greater lesson?
I can't think like that. I can't believe there is some higher being up in the sky, ruthlessly moving us around the earth as if we were pawns in some chess game, strategizing the fallout of each decision, waiting for the moment of checkmate. Will we be the Checkmator, or the checkmated? It's a toss-up. I can't think that we are dominoes, set up only to take a fall, in the hopes that with our bruises we will "learn lessons".
I don't believe those brave warriors who share space with my family in the infusion room week after week are there because someone flipped a coin, pronounced a verdict and sentenced them in the name of gaining wisdom.
No. If there is a God (and I believe there is), I prefer to think he is watching over us as perils of this world take their course.
And when we fight the things that threaten our mortality, he fights with us.
And when we lose, he feels that loss.
And when we cry, he cries for us.
There is no Why.
I don't write this post as someone who was in Lisa's circle of friends, or someone who could presume to speak for any of them.
I'm writing it because these thoughts have been occupying my mind, and I couldn't write about anything else today, even though I tried. I had a post about bowling with Kid C all ready, but the darn thing refused to be written. Sometimes being a writer is about writing the things that demand to be written.
So, in honor of an author who I admired but didn't know, and in honor of all the books she didn't get the chance to write, let's follow Lisa's own instructions:
"The main thing is to WRITE. Some days it might be 2000 words. Some days you might tinker with two sentences until you get them just right. Both days belong in the writing life. Some days you may watch a 'Doctor Who' marathon or become immersed a book that is so good you can't stop reading. Some days you may be in love or in mourning. Those days belong in the writing life, too. Live them without guilt." (via Colleen Lindsey)
Her family has set up a trust fund for her son's college education. You can find out more about it here.
Let's hug our loved ones, pray for Lisa's family and friends, and focus on living life. Buy a book. Buy Lisa's book. Write a page. Take a breath. For me, I think a Dr. Who Marathon sounds great right about now. Who's with me?
Don't leave me hanging in the comments. I feel nervous enough putting this post out there. Tell me what all y'all are doing this weekend. And if you're new to the blog (I've gotten a bunch of new followers lately) please stop by and say hi and introduce yourself!
If you are tuned in to the YA twitter scene at all, you may have heard that the YA world lost an author a couple of days ago. She was 47 years old.
The YA writer community is uniquely small. I didn't know LK Madigan (Lisa Wolfson) personally, but I know her books, Flash Burnout and the Mermaid's Chair. And I know her dear friends. My heart is aching for them right now.
And I know her disease. Last month, Lisa announced on her blog her diagnosis of Pancreatic Cancer, the same disease my dad is fighting right now.
The question everyone seems to ask, and never get an answer to, is, why?
Why her? Why my dad? Why so young?
Does everything really happen for a reason? Are we supposed to learn some greater lesson?
I can't think like that. I can't believe there is some higher being up in the sky, ruthlessly moving us around the earth as if we were pawns in some chess game, strategizing the fallout of each decision, waiting for the moment of checkmate. Will we be the Checkmator, or the checkmated? It's a toss-up. I can't think that we are dominoes, set up only to take a fall, in the hopes that with our bruises we will "learn lessons".
I don't believe those brave warriors who share space with my family in the infusion room week after week are there because someone flipped a coin, pronounced a verdict and sentenced them in the name of gaining wisdom.
No. If there is a God (and I believe there is), I prefer to think he is watching over us as perils of this world take their course.
And when we fight the things that threaten our mortality, he fights with us.
And when we lose, he feels that loss.
And when we cry, he cries for us.
There is no Why.
I don't write this post as someone who was in Lisa's circle of friends, or someone who could presume to speak for any of them.
I'm writing it because these thoughts have been occupying my mind, and I couldn't write about anything else today, even though I tried. I had a post about bowling with Kid C all ready, but the darn thing refused to be written. Sometimes being a writer is about writing the things that demand to be written.
So, in honor of an author who I admired but didn't know, and in honor of all the books she didn't get the chance to write, let's follow Lisa's own instructions:
"The main thing is to WRITE. Some days it might be 2000 words. Some days you might tinker with two sentences until you get them just right. Both days belong in the writing life. Some days you may watch a 'Doctor Who' marathon or become immersed a book that is so good you can't stop reading. Some days you may be in love or in mourning. Those days belong in the writing life, too. Live them without guilt." (via Colleen Lindsey)
Her family has set up a trust fund for her son's college education. You can find out more about it here.
Let's hug our loved ones, pray for Lisa's family and friends, and focus on living life. Buy a book. Buy Lisa's book. Write a page. Take a breath. For me, I think a Dr. Who Marathon sounds great right about now. Who's with me?
Don't leave me hanging in the comments. I feel nervous enough putting this post out there. Tell me what all y'all are doing this weekend. And if you're new to the blog (I've gotten a bunch of new followers lately) please stop by and say hi and introduce yourself!
February 23, 2011
Sam's Big Lie, and the Worst Example of a Good Samaritan Ever
Housekeeping: I know that some of you (patients and friends and family) are specifically looking for updates on my dad. My mom is posting again on her blog here: www.ashtonclot.blogspot.com. Any and all are welcome to check in there. Her posts are usually very entertaining. Because cancer is fun.
On to the post!
So, the other day, Sam loses his phone. At Costco.
He takes the kids back to the store and scours the aisles. No luck.
Like finding a needle in a Costco.
He checks with the front. No phone turned in.
He calls AT&T, and the guy says he can shut down Sam's phone, but he can't locate it. But he does tell Sam that somebody made a call from that phone mere minutes ago.
What?!
It was not lost. It was stolen!
So, Sam uses his mad tech skillz to track down the number that his lost phone called. (Okay, he really just looked at his account).
And here's where Sam is completely different than me.
He calls that number (the one his stolen phone called).
Sam: "Hi, I'm calling because I lost my phone, and the person who now has my phone called you."
Guy (groggily): "Huh?"
Sam: "Someone called you at 12:47. That person has my phone."
Stoner guy: "I don't know what you're talking about, dude."
*Repeat above conversation 12 times*
Finally, Sam pulls out the biggest lie he can think of.
Sam: "I hate to tell you this, but I'm kind of important."
Stoner guy: "Yeah?"
Sam: "Yeah. I'm kind of a big shot. And I need my phone. The phone company is tracking it right now, not to mention the police. So I just wanted to let you know that if I have your number, so do they, and they will be contacting you in the next little while, asking you the same questions."
Stoner guy: "Why? I don't know anything!"
Sam: "I'm sure you had nothing to do with it. But they will be checking here, since you're their only lead. So you have to ask yourself one question. Do you feel lucky? Punk?"
Okay, I embellished the last sentence. But, miraculously, an hour later, the AT&T store in American Fork called to say Sam's phone had been turned in. The guy who brought it in said he found it in a chair at Costco.
When I picked it up, the guy at the AT&T store is all, "Wow. We love customers who are honest and turn in lost phones. Like the Good Samaritan. We should send this guy an email, thanking him." Then he gave me a look that said, Maybe you should give him a reward.
me: "Sure you do that. Thank the guy for finding it in a chair at a Costco in Salt Lake City, and instead of turning it in at the Costco, he drives 45 minutes south, to American Fork, to turn it in at an AT&T store, five hours later."
The right, and convenient thing to do.
me: "So, yeah, if the "good samaritan" is the story of a samaritan who beat a guy up, left him in the street to die, and only when he realized there were witnesses did he turn around and help the guy to the hospital, then yeah, he's totally a good samaritan."
AT&T guy: "Oh. So, you're saying he only turned it in because he got caught?"
me: Ding Ding Ding Ding!
Because the last thing the guy who stole Sam's phone needs is a thank you note! and Money!
What I find the funniest is that Sam's phone is sort of crappy. I mean, it's an iPhone, but it's four years old, beat up, and cracked. And apparently, that's the phone of someone who is "kind of important."
This is Bill Gates' phone. He's sort of a big shot.
What do you guys think? Do you believe the guy found it at a Costco and drove it all the way to American Fork five hours later to turn it in? Or do you think he got scared that he'd get caught?
On to the post!
So, the other day, Sam loses his phone. At Costco.
He takes the kids back to the store and scours the aisles. No luck.
Like finding a needle in a Costco.
He checks with the front. No phone turned in.
He calls AT&T, and the guy says he can shut down Sam's phone, but he can't locate it. But he does tell Sam that somebody made a call from that phone mere minutes ago.
What?!
It was not lost. It was stolen!
So, Sam uses his mad tech skillz to track down the number that his lost phone called. (Okay, he really just looked at his account).
And here's where Sam is completely different than me.
He calls that number (the one his stolen phone called).
Sam: "Hi, I'm calling because I lost my phone, and the person who now has my phone called you."
Guy (groggily): "Huh?"
Sam: "Someone called you at 12:47. That person has my phone."
Stoner guy: "I don't know what you're talking about, dude."
*Repeat above conversation 12 times*
Finally, Sam pulls out the biggest lie he can think of.
Sam: "I hate to tell you this, but I'm kind of important."
Stoner guy: "Yeah?"
Sam: "Yeah. I'm kind of a big shot. And I need my phone. The phone company is tracking it right now, not to mention the police. So I just wanted to let you know that if I have your number, so do they, and they will be contacting you in the next little while, asking you the same questions."
Stoner guy: "Why? I don't know anything!"
Sam: "I'm sure you had nothing to do with it. But they will be checking here, since you're their only lead. So you have to ask yourself one question. Do you feel lucky? Punk?"
Okay, I embellished the last sentence. But, miraculously, an hour later, the AT&T store in American Fork called to say Sam's phone had been turned in. The guy who brought it in said he found it in a chair at Costco.
When I picked it up, the guy at the AT&T store is all, "Wow. We love customers who are honest and turn in lost phones. Like the Good Samaritan. We should send this guy an email, thanking him." Then he gave me a look that said, Maybe you should give him a reward.
me: "Sure you do that. Thank the guy for finding it in a chair at a Costco in Salt Lake City, and instead of turning it in at the Costco, he drives 45 minutes south, to American Fork, to turn it in at an AT&T store, five hours later."
The right, and convenient thing to do.
me: "So, yeah, if the "good samaritan" is the story of a samaritan who beat a guy up, left him in the street to die, and only when he realized there were witnesses did he turn around and help the guy to the hospital, then yeah, he's totally a good samaritan."
AT&T guy: "Oh. So, you're saying he only turned it in because he got caught?"
me: Ding Ding Ding Ding!
Because the last thing the guy who stole Sam's phone needs is a thank you note! and Money!
What I find the funniest is that Sam's phone is sort of crappy. I mean, it's an iPhone, but it's four years old, beat up, and cracked. And apparently, that's the phone of someone who is "kind of important."
This is Bill Gates' phone. He's sort of a big shot.
What do you guys think? Do you believe the guy found it at a Costco and drove it all the way to American Fork five hours later to turn it in? Or do you think he got scared that he'd get caught?
