True Confessions of a YA Writer Part Two

My seventh grade English teacher (we'll call her Mrs. B.) probably ate a cup of staples for breakfast every day. That would explain the constant look of misery etched into her manly face. She also wore men's clothes, had pictures of tigers all over her classroom, and was so quick to drop punishments that no one dared talk in her class. She also had strong beliefs about cheating, which copying someone else's homework fit into.

I couldn't help the fact that as a kid I was terrified of punishment. My dad was pretty quick to crack the whip--if I so much as accidentally bumped his glasses, all H-E-double-hockey-sticks broke loose. My mom's favorite kitchen accessory? The small wooden cutting board with a handle--aptly renamed The Paddle-board*.

So, the day when Mrs. B. stood in front of the class and stared us down with her staple-sharp glare, I sank low in my chair and started to sweat. "It has been brought to my attention that some of you have been cheating on your homework," she said, gaze sweeping over the classroom. "I know who you are. All of you!"

I could hardly breathe. Just that morning I had copied ONE answer from my best friend's assignment. ONE ANSWER!

"Raise your hand if you're guilty of cheating!" No one did. The whole class was dead silent. Mrs. B. tightened her glare, making one of her eyes go all squinty. And then, one by one, hands started going up until everyone in that room except me, a boy with no friends, and a girl with no friends, had their hands held limply up over their heads.

My two best friends, sitting on either side of me, turned and glared at me. "Raise your hand!" one of them hissed. I clasped my sweaty hands in my lap and stared at Mrs. B., too terrified to even move.

Mrs. B. crossed her arms over her flannel men's shirt and nodded. "I thought so. You're all a bunch of cheaters. The students with their hands up will take the final exam with no notes!"

That whole class period I wanted to barf. Every time my best friends looked at me, glared at me, I felt the bile rise a little higher up my throat. After class they approached me. "You are such a liar," one said. "If you don't tell Mrs. B. that you cheated too, we're never going to talk to you again."

I sat alone at lunch that day.

The next day my two best friends ignored me when I walked into class. Instead of going to my seat I dragged my feet up to Mrs. B's desk, hugged my books to my chest, and blurted, "I cheated! I'm a cheater!"

She studied me over a pair of manly reading glasses. "Your friends put you up to this didn't they? You're too nice of a girl to cheat."

I shook my head. "I cheated," I said again--which was the sad truth, even if I was a nice girl.

Mrs. B. shrugged. "Fine. You take the test with no notes like everybody else."

With the whole class staring at me, I made my way to my desk and looked at my friends for approval. They both turned their backs to me. When I talked to them, they played deaf. When the dismissal bell rang, they put their noses in the air and walked out of the room before I had my books in my bag.

The boy on my left, the boy who didn't cheat, looked at me and said, "It's kinda hard to cheat when you don't have any friends." I figured that one out for myself.

If you want to read more about my turbulent teen years, go here.

*Author's note: My mom rarely used The Paddle-board, mainly because I hid it every time I found it (and she'll probably read this). Best hiding place ever? Under the fluffy toilet-seat cover.

True Confessions of a YA Writer Part One

Does anyone really think they're pretty in high school? Okay--I knew a lot of girls who didn't think they were pretty. They KNEW it. But I wasn't one of them. And I didn't know them as in share a bond of friendship with them. I watched them walk down the hall, flipping their hair over their shoulders while applying lip gloss.

So, junior year I thought (hoped?) I was pretty, but judging by the amount of dates I was asked on, I was starting to seriously doubt my own personal allure to the male half of the school. Dates=0. Honestly, boys didn't even really talk to me. And unfortunately my self esteem quotient was a whole lot lower than my intelligence quotient back in those days.

The one ray of sunshine on many of those drab high school days was my cousin Bryce: popular, good-looking, a year older, and one of my best (only) friends. On a particularly bad day, I got up the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing me for some time.

"Am I pretty or not, Bryce?"

His lips thinned, he got an intense look of concentration on his face, and his eyes slowly moved from my face, down to my feet, and back up to my face again. "I don't know. I'm related to you so I never really thought of you as pretty."

Throat constricting. Face burning. Eyeballs trying to water. I forced myself to breath. "Oh. All right." Totally not the answer I was hoping (expecting?) to get. I mean, the least he could have done was lie. (Yes, you're beautiful, dear cousin of mine!)

Still wearing that look of painful concentration, he said, "Hold on," and walked ten feet away to a group of junior guys, leaving me standing alone in the hall. He tapped a guy on the shoulder, said something, and pointed at me. This guy, we'll call him Mr. X, looked at me. His eyes grew wide. He paled. He took a step backward and his mouth puckered up to the size of a grape.

I felt faint. My face started to throb with heat. Whirling around, I ducked my head, stared at the ground, and started walking away as fast as I could, but not before I heard Mr. X's response to what Bryce asked him.

"Oh, Man. Please don't tell me your cousin has a crush on me!"

I avoided Mr. X like the plague for the next year and a half. It wasn't hard. He avoided me too.

I never did get a real answer to my question that day, but I learned a valuable lesson. If you can't handle a bad answer to a question, don't ask the question!

Behind the Scenes With Maggie Mae and Bridger

Did you read SHIFTING? Yes? No*? Well, if you did, and you want a glimpse of what Maggie Mae and Bridger are up to post book, you've got to check out my guest post on Amber in Blunder's blog. So go . . . (dang. Blogger is acting up, it won't let me do the link the way I want). So go here:

http://amberinblunderland.blogspot.com/2012/01/character-interview-and-giveaway-maggie.html

Enjoy!

*Warning: If you haven't read the book, there are some spoilers!

P.S. There is also a contest on Amber's blog to win SHIFTING.

The Final Countdown (to win my book)

So, wanna win SHIFTING? You have until midnight!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Shifting (my book) Preview

So a lot of you know I've written a book. And maybe some of you don't.

Well, if you're curious about it--my book (SHIFTING)--and want to see if you might like it, follow this link.

You can take a peek at the first two chapters and see what you think! Here's the Amazon link . . . you know . . . just in case. ;D

Enjoy!

Writer On the Side

Mom in the middle. That's me. Writer on the side, but Mom in the middle, where it really counts.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing. LOVE it! In fact, I recently sold two books to my publisher, Walker Books, and I am so excited for the world to read them!

But for me, being a mom is my number one priority. Because when I write a book, I have all the tries I need to get it "just right." But with kids? If I mess up, I can't go back and fix something by tweaking a scene, or changing the ending. With kids, every single day matters.

I had this epiphany a while back. Childhood is fleeting! It goes by so quickly. Time seems to be speeding up on me and before I know it my kids will be grown and I'll be all alone wondering where time went.

Therefore, my kids come before my writing. Always. I don't think I could instill morals and values into my writing if I didn't first live them in my daily life. So in essence, the fact that I have children, these tiny beings whom I love with all my heart and soul, is what gives me the overwhelming emotional power to write stories that touch other people.

So here are a few things that I have learned along the way:

--Always put your kids first because if they are happy and content, so are you. And if you are happy and content, then you can write beautiful stories.

--Put pieces of what you learn from your kids into your writing--they teach unconditional love, after all, and isn't that what makes life worth living? And books worth reading?

--Revel in the fact that you are lucky enough to be blessed with kids, because the people who dearly want children but can't have them wish more than ANYTHING (even more than you wish you were published, or you wish you were on the NY Times bestseller list) that they were in your shoes.

--Be content with what you have. Want what you already own/have accomplished, and you'll find joy in life. Don't look at other people's grass and marvel at how green it looks from where you are. I guarantee you that they will have grubs at one time or another!

I guarantee you that when you're on your deathbed you won't think, Man, I wish I wrote one more book. But you might think, Man, I wish I spent more time with my kids.

So, what have you learned from life?

Mom or Author?

How about both? Of those two things, being a mom is my top priority. That is why, sadly, I haven't blogged since October. Life got tough for a little while. And now it is back to normal (which means only slightly insane). In lieu of that, I decided to do a few blog posts over the next few weeks about how to achieve your goals as a writer while also being the mom (or dad) that your kids deserve. Because they deserve the best. And so do you! (Check out this amazing article, "What We Wish We Knew Then.")

I am the proud mother of four small kids, and they take up a whole lot of my time. All of my time, actually, between the hours of seven a.m. and 8 p.m. So how do I write and yet raise a healthy, balanced family (because even my husband needs some raising)?

It is all about time. You ABSOLUTELY have to manage your time. Make every single moment count and don't waste a single second on useless stuff like . . . watching television. Or playing bejeweled. Or (cringe) Solitaire (guilty). Or, dare I say, Facebook and Twitter.

Here are a few totally random time-saving tips:

1. Learn to chop vegetables like a pro. I am not kidding! Do you know how fast I can make a salad now that I can chop a carrot in less than 30 seconds? A bell pepper in 60 seconds? When I can whip up a healthy meal in minutes, I have time to spare for other things.

2. Be organized! Everything should have a place, and never put something down! Put it away. (Or be like me and follow your kids from room to room picking up their toys--or make them do it.)

3. Make your kids accountable for their own messes--especially their bedrooms. In my house? NO TV until kids are dressed (the older ones do it by themselves), bedrooms are spotless, and beds are made. If they clean up after themselves, that makes a lot less for me to do.

4. Have a set bedtime for your kids and enforce it every single day. As soon as all kids are in bed, focus on writing.

5. Every evening put a load or two of laundry in to wash/dry so that it is ready to fold first thing in the morning. Do this every day!

And then, when the kids are in bed, it just so happens that the house is more-or-less clean, the laundry is folded and (if I'm really on the ball) put away, the husband is happily watching television, and you are free to do whatever you want (which is write novels in my case).

Now, tell me what you do to make writing possible (even if you don't have kids because you're all probably just as busy as me).