Heidi Schulz's Blog, page 13

Avast! Some Piratin’ Words Fer International Talk Like A Pirate Day

Happy International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Need some piratey things to say? I’ve got you covered!

Aboveboard You didn’t know that was a pirate phrase? It is! When a pirate ship was sneaking up on a merchant vessel, the pirates would hide “below board” or below deck. If everyone was above board, all was honest and fair. I don’t mind if you eat the last ice cream bar as long as you don’t sneak it. Be honest and aboveboard and we’ll be fine. Just kidding, if you eat the last ice cream, I will gut you.

Bilge (Also: Bilge water, bilge rat) The bilge was the lowest part of a ship. It was filthy, disgusting, and filled with stagnant water and rats. The bad news: In a flat bottomed ship it was difficult to pump the stinking bilge-water out. The good news: Bilge rats were a good source of fresh meat at sea. I’d sooner drink bilge water than this rot-gut grog but go ahead and pour me another glass.

Cackle Farts Eggs. Those were eggs. Charming, no? Wakey, wakey! Cackle farts and bakey!

Galleypepper Soot, ashes, and other bits of debris that found its way from the cook’s fire into the food. These cackle farts are rather bland. If only they had a bit more galleypepper.

Holy Mackerel Another surprising term. Mackerel was caught in large quantities, but went bad quickly. Therefore, in the 17th century, it was the only fish allowed to be sold on the Sabbath. Holy Mackerel! This fish has gone bad!

Kiss the Wooden Lady A minor pirate punishment where a sailor was forced to stand, facing the mast, with his hands tied around it. Other sailors were encouraged to kick him in the hind-quarters as they passed by. If you don’t stop picking on your sister, I’ll make you kiss the wooden lady, young man!

Shiver Me Timbers I was recently asked about the meaning of this one on twitter and was happy to give a definition. Ships were made of wood. Large waves or cannon fire could cause the timbers to vibrate, shudder, pitch, or shiver. Used as an exclamation of surprise. Shiver me timbers! Did pirates really call eggs “cackle farts?” That’s…gross.

Shake a Cloth in the Wind To be just a little bit drunk. Shiver me timbers! Black-Hearted Jim shook a cloth in the the wind this afternoon. He covered all the holy mackerel and cackle farts with extra galleypepper and kissed the wooden lady–on purpose! That is not aboveboard behavior! Let’s put him in the bilge until he’s sober.

There ye have it, a few words to get you conversating like one o’ the dark brotherhood today. If you be still stuck for somethin’ t’ say, try out this English t’ pirate translator. Have fun. Celebrate. But keep yer filthy hands off me ice cream bars. I mean what I say about the gutting. Aaargh!

Note: I learned a lot of these words from The Pirate Dictionary by Terry Breverton. If you want to learn more, I recommend it.

P.S. I created a little Pinterest board for Hook’s Revenge. This seems like a good day to share. Ahoy!

 

 

Announcing: Giraffes Ruin Everything!

I got this out-of-the-blue note in the mail yesterday.

How could I forget? This is a color copy of a photograph showing the actual giraffe that bit the head off my doll. This was taken post-bite. Look how disgusted my mom looks. I had no idea this photo existed, but I am so glad it does.

Speaking of giraffes, I feel a little funny about posting more news so soon–like I am being greedy or something, but…

Once again, so many thanks to my agent, Brooks Sherman. I had not planned to write a picture book, but he encouraged me to try it. I did, and when the story was ready, he found a wonderful publisher for it. [Writers: Listen to your agents. They are usually pretty smart--I know mine is.]

I am thrilled to be working with Mary Kate at Bloomsbury Kids. I was able to meet both her and Rotem, my editor for Hook’s Revenge, when I was in New York a few months ago. They are amazing. I know I am going to learn a lot from each one.

I’m very lucky.

I’m very grateful.

I’m very…confused.

You know how I feel about giraffes, right? So. I wrote one that ruins absolutely everything, but at the end of the day, he’s pretty likable.* I don’t quite know what happened. I suppose it’s true what they say: Writing is therapy.

To celebrate, I bought myself a t-shirt of this image. I think it perfectly sums up the happy beginnings of my writing career.

Want your own? Get it here. (I am not affiliated with this company in any way. I just like to share the awesome.)

So, that’s it. All Most of my secrets have been revealed. All the big ones anyway. My hair can deflate and things can get back to normal. Or, you know, normal for me. Whatever that means.

At least until next week, when I announce the sale of my new YA. (Kidding!) (Probably.)

*Don’t think for a second that I have let my guard down. Just because I happened to write one that I rather like doesn’t mean I have forgotten the truth: Giraffes are dangerous creatures. Hide your wife. Hide your kids.

Announcing: Hook’s Revenge!

Some of you may have seen my announcement on Twitter or Facebook over the weekend, but if you missed it, I have some book news coming out in this week’s print edition of  Publisher’s Weekly. Here’s a sneak peek:

I am thrilled, humbled, and overwhelmed–all in the best possible ways. This is truly a dream come true. Not only that I will be able to fulfill my lifelong goal of seeing my words in print, but also that I can share this particular story with readers.

Sidenote: I am hyperventilating with delight–I am going to have readers! (I hope. You’ll read my book, won’t you?)

Peter Pan and its many adaptions, retellings, and spin-offs have always had a special place in my heart. I can hardly believe that my words will be a part of this amazing group.

The original J.M. Barrie classic was the first longer-than-one-sitting book I read to my daughter. I can still picture her as a pink pajamaed two-year-old laying in her toddler bed and quietly playing with her toys while I read aloud to her. Though at first I wasn’t sure any of my words were sinking in, she soon began acting out scenes that she had seemed to ignore when I read them. Peter Pan became both her imaginary friend and alter-ego for the next few years and we spent many hours pretending to “fight those nasty pirates” together.

One day, when Newt was about five, I came down with the flu. I made myself a little nest on the couch,  put out some Goldfish crackers and juice boxes, and set up a couple DVDs: Hook and the live action 2003 Peter Pan. While she watched, I slept, the sounds of the movies filtering through my virus haze. When the movies ended I woke up with a question in my head: What if Captain Hook had had a daughter?

Hook’s Revenge grew from that day, though it would be several years before I would get serious about completing it. Last fall, I signed with my agent, Brooks Sherman of FinePrint Lit, and with his help, set about polishing the manuscript and preparing it to go on submission.

During the first week of December, Brooks sent my manuscript to several editors–I was officially on sub. I tried not to think about it too much, choosing instead to focus on enjoying the holidays with my family. At the end of January, I was thrilled when Brooks called to inform me that we had received an offer. Two days later we got another one. We were going to auction!

Several editors wanted to speak to me, and once again I was sick, this time with a terrible hacking cough. Over the next week, I took phone calls from five different editors–all from my bed. I asked and answered questions, took notes, and tried not to cough too loudly in their ears. I was very impressed with each one and remember telling Brooks that I would have been more than happy to work with any of them. However, for this story, neither of us could think of a better fit than with Rotem at Disney•Hyperion.

On the day of the auction, the original two publishers put their offers in early. As the clock started to run down, it looked as though no other offers would arrive. It was a little anti-climactic, but I still felt incredibly lucky. I was about to feel even more so: With only minutes left until closing, the remaining three houses sent offers. All five editors I had spoken to wanted to work with me!

The next day, on February 5th–the 60th anniversary of Disney’s Peter Pan–I accepted Disney•Hyperion’s offer. Hook’s Revenge would be a real book!

Confidential aside to Walt and Newt: I could not have done this without you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Now please excuse me a moment while I hyperventilate some more.

You may be wondering why it has taken a little while for me to make this announcement. Each publishing house has its own policies. Disney•Hyperion prefers to have a signed contract in hand before their authors announce and sometimes contracts can take well, some time. Brooks, Rotem, and I have all been sitting on this secret for months, but you know what? I think it has been well worth the wait.

I am both incredibly happy and incredibly grateful that Hook’s Revenge has found such a wonderful home. I can’t wait until next fall when I can share it with you. (You know, if you want.)

Yo Ho!

 

P.S. If you’d like to add Hook’s Revenge to your To Be Read shelf, it is already up on Goodreads. And watch this space, Twitter, and Facebook for more news as it comes!

On My Mind: August 30, 2013

one

Runaway chicken!

Earlier this week, our neighbor knocked on our door and asked, “Did you get your chicken back?” We weren’t aware that one was missing but a check of the backyard confirmed it. Guinevere had run away from home. She had apparently spent some time in our neighbor’s backyard, unsuccessfully attempting to fly back over the fence. The neighbors’ attempts to capture her failed when she ducked under their gate and ran as fast as her stubbly little legs would carry her, out into the world.

I was just preparing to create some Lost Chicken posters, when she returned–a little sadder, a little wiser, but still harder than anything to catch.

She’s fast and she pecks.

two

Happy almost Labor Day! The summer is nearly over. How did that happen?

Photo taken by my friend Michelle who is the official photographer of everything good.

three

If the summer is nearly over, that means fall is nearly upon us. Hooray! I am so looking forward to boots and sweaters, apple cider, falling leaves, and pumpkin everything!

three-point-five

I’m also looking forward to the Wordstock Literary Festival in Portland this October. I am this year’s children’s specialist and have been working on programming for the children’s stage for months. I am so excited about the authors and special guests we have lined up. The full schedule will be on the Wordstock website soon, but in the meantime, block out the weekend of October 5-6 on your calendar. You really won’t want to miss this.

four

I am absolutely enamored with this set of photos of forest animals living in an abandoned house in Finland. Go look and be charmed.

five

A baby giraffe was born this month at the Woodland Park Zoo in Portland. I’m staying as far away as possible. I’d advise you to do the same. Giraffes are not to be trusted.

On My Mind: 7/04/13

one

Happy Independence Day!

I texted those greetings to a friend earlier, and in its never ending quest to make me look the fool, my phone autocorrected “independence” to “indigence.”

So Happy Indigence Day!

two

I saw these in a little shop yesterday and present them without comment:

 

three

Last week Newt and I were lucky enough to attend a day of LeakyCon, a Harry Potter (and other) fandom conference. Care to see a few photos? Of course you would!

*pulls out slide projector*

Just go ahead and make yourself comfortable.

three-point-five

We ran into “Bing Lee” in an empty hallway. He gave us high-fives.

three-point-seven-five

I’m on Instagram now.

four



It’s funny because it’s true. (Thank you, Jessica Sinsheimer, for sharing this with me.)

five

This may be the greatest thing on the Internet.

It’s on several sites, so I don’t know where to attribute it. If you know who is responsible for this work of art, please tell me.

Anything on your mind today?

Perfecting the Art of Selfies

[View the story "Perfecting the Art of Selfies" on Storify]

Harry Potter Magic

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”

Do you remember the first time you read that line? I do. Walt and I were flying somewhere, where it was I’ve now forgotten. To kill time in the airport we browsed Powell’s Books. I happened to pick up a paperback with a tousle-headed and bespectacled boy flying a broomstick right across the cover. I had already brought a book to read on the plane, but you can never have too many books so I bought it.

I didn’t actually get a chance to start reading until we returned home. I remember turning pages in a pillow nest on the floor of our new home, next to the basement fireplace, and falling in love. I thought, this man (my mistake) is a really good writer. He should tell more stories about this world.

I can’t remember when I found out that there was a sequel (perhaps a year later?), but I remember being thrilled. I read bits and pieces, here and there, as my newborn baby napped.

Some time later, I devoured The Prisoner of Azkaban in nearly one go, sitting in the blue chair by our front window. It was then, and has remained, my favorite of the series.

I bought The Goblet of Fire on release day–perhaps the first book I had ever made that particular effort for. I read it too quickly, then reread the entire series a couple more times over the next two years while I waited for The Order of the Phoenix.

Frustratingly for me, that one came out on a day when I was catering a wedding luncheon.

For 60 people.

At my house.

Walt went out and got it for me and I stole quick glances at the pages every time I brought more dishes to the kitchen. Though it was never destined to become a favorite of mine, I do think that one is one of the most masterfully written of the series. And Umbridge? Best villain ever. I still hate her.

I remember crying at the end of The Half Blood Prince in the basement of my brother-in-law’s home, weeks after moving to Maryland. Our house hunt was going poorly and I missed my friends and familiar places, but I was trying to stay positive. Crying for Dumbledore was a much needed release of tears I was trying not to shed for myself.

And then the last: The Deathly Hallows. I went to a midnight release party with a friend, feeling somewhat sad to leave my six-year-old daughter at home. If only she was a little bit older… I couldn’t wait to share it all with her. I got home late, but spent the rest of the night on the couch in our office, reading until the sun came up.

The next year we moved back home to Oregon and I began reading again, this time aloud to Newt. Over the next ten months, I fell in love with the series again as I experienced it fresh through her eyes.

I was struck by these memories this morning when I learned that today is the tenth anniversary of The Order of the Phoenix. Once again, I was back in my busy kitchen, sneaking peeks at those pages while making wedding dishes and instructing servers.

I love to read. I love books. Yet no other series has stuck with me in quite the same way. I can’t think of many other books that have the power to transport me back to the moment when I first opened their covers–but this one can. Perhaps that is part of the magic of Harry Potter.

I started rereading the series again this morning, for the umpteenth time. Newt came home from camp, fished out a copy of The Sorcerer’s Stone from under her bed, and declared her intentions to join me. We’ll make some new memories together this summer.

Do you have Harry Potter memories? Let me hear them. You know, just as soon as I finish this chapter.

P.S. Want to read along with us? If you are on twitter, follow and use the hashtag #HPReread13. Happy reading!

Heidi Homeschools (Yup, I still do)

We are nearing the end of another school year–our fifth since Walt and I made the decision to educate Newt at home. Every year has been different, presenting its own particular challenges and triumphs. If I had to sum up this year in one word, that word would be change.

Around this time last year I started feeling like change was on the horizon. Newt was getting older and her needs, both socially and academically were changing. My needs were changing as well.

I felt it was necessary to add in some outside mentoring this year. Let’s be honest, I can only inspire Newt so far. She, quite naturally, has little incentive to push herself beyond her perceived limits for “just her mom.” And the few other leaders from 4H or church were ones that she had had for years. She had grown perhaps a bit too comforable in those relationships. She needed to be challenged.

And for the first time in my life as a mother, I am now trying to balance family and career. I needed to shift some of the homeschooling workload off my shoulders. Don’t get me wrong, the responsibility to ensure Newt is getting a good education is still firmly mine–I just needed to share the work.

It took much of the year, but a couple months ago we finally hit on the right mix and one that I think will carry over nicely to the fall.

For Newt’s at-home curriculum she is using Easy Peasy — All in One Homeschooling. This is a free, online curriculum that incorporates much of the classics-based learning we had enjoyed with Ambleside Online, but in a format that Newt can easily do on her own.

And does she ever. Many mornings lately, she’s been setting her alarm for 6:00 am so she can do all her schoolwork by 9:00. She then has the rest of the day to read, draw, play with her animals, or tell me she is bored. (Working on that.)

For math, she is doing Khan Academy at home, meeting with a weekly tutor, and taking an outside class.

The outside class, that is where the magic is happening. Once a week I drive Newt nearly 50 miles for classes at Village Home, a fabulous homeschool co-op. She is currently taking three classes there: The math class, a sewing/art class, and Hogwarts Academy (which has included potions/real chemistry in a lab, creating a scale architectural floor plan of Hogwarts, and playing Quidditch). They have all been very much worth the time and expense.

In the fall, I plan to register her for eight classes–two full days each week (and am crossing my fingers that I can carpool).

She is being challenged academically and beginning to make new social connections.

I am feeling the relief of not having to plan and execute everything, while still being certain that she is in good hands.

It has been a somewhat tumultuous year, but things are smoothing out. I think we’ve hit on the right combination–at least for now. But that’s the great and terrible thing about homeschooling: Adaptions can always be made because adaptions always need to be made.

I’m excited to see what next year will bring.

P.S. Just a reminder: All of the above refers to our own personal journey and should not be taken as commentary as “the right” way to do things. There is no one right way. It there was, this would be a lot simpler.

Happy Prom Season!

I never went to Prom. Thanks for reopening that wound.

However, I did go to the winter formal, “The Sno’ball” because it was girls’ choice.

Newt and I were looking at old embarrassing photos of my glory days this morning and came across a couple of real gems. Want to see a picture of 15-year-old me having the time of her life with shoes dyed to match?



Awww, aren’t we cute?

If you are wondering why I look so incredibly thrilled, I imagine it’s because this picture was taken two days after my first big break-up. And yes, it was with the boy standing next to me. (Hi, Shane!)

That fact could explain why I got out my scissors and paste (pre-photoshop days) and doctored up the official Sno’ball photo.



Obviously, I had my mind on a real winner.

I’d also like to note, those shoes dyed to match? Not so good in Oregon rain. My feet were green for days.

Those photos were from my second year attending the Sno’ball. Sadly, the ones from the year before didn’t seem to survive my adolescence. But I can still paint you a little mental picture of the wonders of that night.

I attended with a nice boy named Dustin. We were just friends. He wore a classic black tux with a red vest. I wore a black dress with a red shawl and had my orthodontist place red rubber bands on my braces to match. I used half a can of blue Aqua-Net and arranged my hair into the stiffest cloud of perfection ever to grace a 14-year-old head.

After a fancy dinner with two other stunning couples at the local Red Lobster, we loaded into an extra fancy horse-drawn carriage.

Before our carriage had gone a block, it was rear ended.

I remember screeching tires and panicked neighing. Then the canvas door ripped off, my date fell out, and the carriage tipped over on him. Aside from a few bumps and bruises we were all okay. And once the police report was given there was still time to dance the night away–in a rain soaked dress and with dissolved hairspray shellacking my face.

You know, now that I think of it, not attending my prom was probably a good thing.

I’d love to hear your formal dance horror stories. I might even send a little consolation something or other to my favorite. Leave a comment or a link to your blog.

On My Mind: 4/30/13

one

This car:



“Heidi being haunted by creepy dolls” continues to be a real thing. I saw this car several weeks ago on my way to church. I was alone, but had the presence of mind to snap a photo. When I passed by later the car was gone. Where it went with that flat tire, I have no idea. I have not seen it since.

two

Roadkill. Apparently this is going to be that kind of post.

I posted a picture to my facebook page of a dead raccoon. Someone had tied a “Get Well Soon” balloon to its little paw. I was unjustly accused of being the ballooner, but in this case I’m afraid that honor belongs to someone else. However, it did remind me of the following true story:

Once upon a time, several years ago, the woman next-door and her children went out of town, leaving the dad home alone. Shortly after his family left he called and asked if I had seen their cat, Shadow. She had run off and he was concerned. Sadly, I had not, but I promised to keep an eye out for her.

A few days later, on the very day that the wife and children were to return home, I saw a black cat, dead, along the side of the road not far from where I lived. I tried calling my neighbor, but couldn’t reach him. I didn’t want the neighbor children to see their poor cat like that, so I loaded my car with a garbage bag, a shovel, and some gloves, buckled Newt into her car seat, and steeled myself to do a good deed.

I parked and told Newt I needed to do something for a second, and that she should just look at her book. Then I got out my tools and…handled things.

When I got home, I put the garbage bag in my freezer and left a message for my neighbor to give me a call.

He did not call that evening or the next morning. Finally, I walked over to let him know that I had found Shadow. He answered the door and…a black cat came out on the porch and rubbed up against my ankles. Apparently their cat had come home a few days prior and I had a random dead cat in my freezer.

The End

three

This:

four

Um… Nope. That’s pretty much it: creepy dolls, roadkill, Indy. Sounds about right.

What’s on your mind today?