NOT at home on the range.

Sorry about the blog-less Wednesday, friends. I was too busy almost falling off a VERY HIGH VERY SLIPPERY mountain into a gorge 800 feet below. But I'm not going to blog about that today. I'm going to blog about something I did a few weeks ago.

Because a few weeks ago, I went to a shooting range.

Like for guns.

Now, IDK if it’s obvious from my picture, but I may or may not be the least physically intimidating person alive. I have bush baby eyes for goodness sake.

So when a badass friend of mine + the Help Desk’s was like COME SHOOT WITH ME I looked at my novel and then looked back at the Help Desk and looked back at the novel and was like, “Yeah. I should do this. For the book.”

The Help Desk was deeeelighted, let me tell you.

Anyway, we arrived at this shooting range in a teeny tiny town in rural South Carolina. And when we got there, there were like 50 middle aged men with various and sundry forms of facial hair. At 11am on a TUESDAY. It was CROWDED. The shooting range/GUN store. We went to Whole Foods afterwards (lunchtime) and it was like, desolate. And the shooting range was crowded. But I digress. Anyway, a big part of this big shooting range is a store, where I learned that I could leave that very day with my very own M-16. Me, with no history of gun. Badass friend and I were the only girlies except for one of the shopkeepers, who was well past her girl days.

But we found pink and purple guns. See?



Also, I did not like their generic targets. So I chose this guy:



The first one went wild (the spot by his head). But otherwise, I pretty much shot him in the face or the chestlike area every time. Not too shabby for my first try.

I know I sound cavalier. But I wasn't at the time. The truth is that shooting was scary. I was afraid to fire the first shot. Really afraid. Hell, I was scared to hold the loaded gun. I'm the person who would have a defective one and end up shooting someone in the face by accident. So when I got there, I almost didn’t do it.

But I did do it. I did it for research, so that I could write from a place of experience. And if I didn't have that reason behind me, I KNOW I wouldn't have gone. And if I hadn't gone, I wouldn't have been rewarded with sore hands and a wicked heart attack from the kickback. PS: I shot a Glock 23 uncompensated 40 caliber. My hands barely wrapped around the handle. And there is a video of my experience taken for posterity. Maybe I will post it someday for a very, very special occasion.

Would I go again? I don't know. I don't like guns--that hasn't changed. But the experience was one I will not soon forget. And maybe someday I'll need to know what it's like to shoot an M-16, and I’ll return to put 10,000 bullets in that blue guy. You never know.

In the name of research, what would you do?

How to Get Noticed at a Writer's Conference*

Well, that’s why we go isn’t it? Also to learn. Also to network. But most of us just really really want to get noticed by agents and editors. Yes. So now I shall reveal the secrets, so YOU can be the It Fellow at [insert famous writer’s conference here]. And with SCBWI fast approaching, I thought this advice would be particularly timely. Listen closely.

1. Wear the right clothes. Something like this should do the trick.

2. If you have self-published a book, BRING IT WITH YOU. Not only that, but carry it everywhere you go. Multiple copies. And be sure to hold it facing outward at all times, so people can see that YOU published a BOOK.

3. Nobody likes a bore. Everybody likes sex. So talk about sex—a lot—particularly tales of public sex set to a WOMP WOMP WOMP techno soundtrack, and agents and editors WILL notice you. True facts.

4. I know what they say about cell phones and keeping the ringer off. Don’t listen, not this time. Because if your cell rings during an agent panel, everyone will turn to look at YOU. YOU are actually busy enough for people to want to call. YOU are a very important person.

5. Be inventive. Act out your query letter in a skit during the agent panel or the keynote speech. Better yet, perform an interpretive dance. That’s fancier. Worried about stealing the keynote speaker’s spotlight? DON’T BE. He’s already been published. You need it more.



*In a very, very bad way.

CONTEST WINNER(S)!

Congratulations to Amy (A Simple Love of Reading) for winning THE REPLACEMENT and THE DUFF!

Everyone else? Don’t stop reading yet. Because I want to tell you something.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from my lovely and brilliant editor Courtney Bongiolatti. Just a quick note to tell me she was working on my editorial letter, and enjoying it. The whole email was no more than 100 words, but it completely changed my whole day. There was a lift in my step. A dude whistling in the background. A bluebird on my shoulder. You get the picture.

And now that MARA DYER #1 is on Goodreads, people I don’t know are adding it. And you guys, YOU, comment on this blog. You talk to me on Twitter. Or laugh at me. Either way.

Those might seem like little things to you. But I want to tell you that to me, they're huge. I don’t just hear one guy whistling anymore; I hear a chorus.* I don’t just have one bluebird on my shoulder; I have a flock!** It made me squee when I got my editorial letter and read how excited Courtney was to be working on MARA. And to hear that some of YOU are excited to read it?

There really are no words.

So I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for hanging out with me here on the blog and on Twitter. Thank you for entering. Thank you for commenting. Thank you for tweeting. Thank you for adding. Thank you for being my friend. I would give you all two tickets to that thing you love if I could. Since I can’t, I spun the random wheel to give away an extra surprise ARC to another contest entrant:

And that winner is:

Sarah Enni!

Sarah and Amy, please email me at mdhodkin at gmail.com with your addresses, and I’ll get your books to you as soon as I’m back home!

Also, this might be a good time to tell you that I’m only in Antarctica to the extent that dinosaurs are in Antarctica. Which is to say, not at all. Metaphorically I’m there, though, since I AM in a remote place enjoying a vacation with the fam (we don’t even have cell phone reception! Really!) and henceforth, whenever I withdraw from the planet to work on MARA #1 or #2, I will probably say I’m heading to my revision cave in Antarctica. Which looks like this:



Don't worry, I kicked that weird guy out last week.

*HUGS*

Love you guys so hard. Thank you again.


-----
*Metaphorically. I'm not that crazy.
**Okay I am so what.

Last. Day. To. Enter!

For THE REPLACEMENT and THE DUFF! Two hotly, highly anticipated books of Fall 2010!

Go!

Also, I'm heading to Antarctica in ten minutes, but I'll try to blog from there! I will tweet once my hot air balloon lands in Delphia for SURE. And I'll let you know if I see any velociraptors.

Can't wait for the good old Antarctican metabolism to kick in. So excited!

Guess whose BOOK is on GOODREADS?

That was hard, wasn't it?

This is just one more piece of evidence that this thing that lives in my computer (and on my flash drive, and on the Help Desk's server, and in various and sundry other places, I'm no fool) is like, going to have a cover some day. And real pages. Made out of paper. And that people who aren't related to me by blood, marriage, or decades of friendship actually (hopefully?) will read it.

And until people can read it, they can add it ;)

The First Pages Your First Pages Should Look Like.*

PROLOGUE

I dreamt that I was doing the dishes one dark and stormy night. Let me tell you this, dear reader; I, Isybelleonarwen, known also as Izzy, got a phone call in my dream, telling me that a death that happened in the small town that I hailed from. The call came on my red plastic phone that I keep on my burnished mahogany nightstand beside my bed, which is covered in 300 thread count Pottery Barn sheets. The sky flashed zealously and angrily with sharp white-colored lightning through the deepening purple eggplant sky. I was thinking about how much I hated the world, and everything in it, and I stared at the white-colored lightning and then looked down at the dishes I was doing, at the also-white-colored suds as they caressed my rubber dishwashing gloves that I bought at Bed Bath and Beyond. I also stared at the herbs growing in the pots which I bought at Home Depot and which were a lovely terra cotta color.

Then the phone rang. I took off the gloves finger by finger, then laid them down on the formica countertops which were robin’s egg blue. Then I went to the telephone and I picked it up, but not before glancing at myself in the reflective glass of my Kenmore oven. Because I was 5”8, I was perfectly eye-level with the appliance, and realized how beautiful I looked, and how my eyes seemed to always be changing color, from their default color (also robin’s egg blue) to emerald green sometimes, depending on what I was wearing. Also my lips, they were full and plump, and pink also, like the petals of a delicate tulip, or maybe a snapdragon. Or a crocus. My hair looked like spun gold under the florescent lighting of my kitchen, and was as glorious as the delightfully golden sun that rose in the lovely pinkening sky, shedding its light across the lushly landscaped lands of suburbia. The phone rang again. I tore my eyes away from my reflection and walked, one foot in front of the other, quickly, over to the red plastic phone, which I keep on the countertop next to the stove (also Kenmore). The caller was my childhood friend Michael, who weighed 150 pounds, and was a weenie sales guy at some department store in the small town that I hailed from. One time, when we were teenagers we had gratuitous sex.

He prefaced the bad news he was about to deliver with an overtly sexual cheesy comment, harkening back to that drunken night, after which I had a terrible hangover and squinted into the golden sunlight that poured forth from his bathroom window. The air was raw that morning, I remembered.

“What do you want, Michael?” I queried annoyedly.

“Your mother, Izzy. She’s dead,” Michael replied blandly.

I was so upset that I peed in my JCrew khaki stone-colored pants. As the liquid trickled down the pants, which I had actually bought on JCrew’s End of Summer sale, I noticed that the color was a rich gold, similar to the way my hair could look in the blazing sunlight in the small town I hailed from as a child.

“Earth to Izzy,” Michael said irritatedly.

But I was still absolutely speechless. All I could say was “What?”

“Your mother, Izzy. She’s dead,” Michael repeated aggravatedly.

I’d have to go to the small town I hailed from for the funeral.

“Get with the program, Izzy. This means you’ll have to go to the small town we hail from for the funeral.”

I was overwrought with pain coming from some part in my chest, which is full and buxom.

“I have to go, Michael.”

“You go girl.”

I hung up the red plastic phone, which I kept on the honey-colored beech kitchen table I bought from Target. Years later, I would look back and laugh, I told myself in the dream.

And then, in my dream, I fell to the linoleum floor. The white-colored lightning flashed again, and my eyes flew open. I had been dreaming, I realized, but somehow I was still on the kitchen floor. My hands were colored in the same white-colored suds that they were while I dreamt I was doing the dishes. And then I realized that I would not in fact look back and laugh, because pain in my buxom chest in my dream was the same pain I was feeling now.

And then I died.

~~~~~%@%~~~~~




*Not

**Author's Note: this may or may not be more or less amusing after you read this and this.

***Thanks, as always, to Nathan Bransford, Janet Reid, and Kristen Nelson for teaching writers what REAL first pages should look like.

My best friend is having surgery today.

Maggie and I would very, very much appreciate all of your happy, healthy, benign thoughts and wishes for a super speedy
recovery.

Update: Maggie is doing (and looking) great! She doesn't have the dreaded cone and you'd barely know she had surgery. She wolfed down her special ground bison snack and if she eats her chicken stew later, we will be in great shape. She has her recheck in 2 weeks, and the mass was sent off to pathology today so we should hear something by then. Keep sending those benign thoughts, but in the meantime, the Fighting Potato lives to sloth another day!

On Villains.

I love them. So much. Something about the disturbed, the creepy, the off-putting…I can’t get enough. In fact, sometimes when I read, I find myself preferring to spend more page time with the bad guy instead of the hero. Just me?

Alright, maybe I’m a little twisted. Or a lot twisted. I don’t know. Let’s not talk about me. Lets talk about Gollum.



In case you’ve been living under a mountain (HA! See what I did thar?) Gollum is one of the villains in the Lord of the Rings trilogy (and the Hobbit). And he is my favorite villain. The most important villain, in my not so humble opinion, even though theoretically Sauron is like, the biggest badass of them all, with his ONE RING TO RULE THEM ALL and his GIANT EVIL EYE and such. Sure, without Sauron, Frodo & Co. would not have had to leave the Shire and hike to Mordor, but we never really get to KNOW Sauron (unless you read the complete Histories of Middle Earth & The Silmarillion why are you looking at me like that SHUTUP).

Also, without Gollum, the books would have been really, really, REALLY boring. Really boring.

So, why so genius, Gollum? Is it your complicated past, your early history of murder? Or your years of solitude and exile from hobbit-kind? Is it your self-loathing? Your dual nature—always seeking but never quite finding the shadow of your former self? Wanting to belong, to be good, while also wanting to wrap those bony fingers around Frodo’s lily white neck? Your wretchedness, your loneliness, your persistent ingratitude despite all that Frodo does for you up in Mordor?

Yes.

Gollum is the perfect villain because he is not perfect in his villainy. His foulest moments are shot through with almost-but-not-quite-redemptive acts as he guided Frodo & Sam through the Dead Marshes. He is at once awful and sad, desperately obsessed and desperately eager to please. And his personality, his backstory, his characterization means that he is thoroughly unpredictable, a wild card, up to the very last moment of the Return of The King.

Unpredictability makes for interesting reading. And Gollum is as unstable and volatile and complicated a character as they come. Which is why to me, he’s the ultimate villain.

Who’s yours?

You WANT The Replacement by Brenna Yovanoff. AND I WILL GIVE IT TO YOU!

Mackie Doyle seems like everyone else in the perfect little town of Gentry, but he is living with a fatal secret - he is a Replacement, left in the crib of a human baby sixteen years ago. Now the creatures under the hill want him back, and Mackie must decide where he really belongs and what he really wants.

A month ago, Mackie might have told them to buzz off. But now, with a budding relationship with tough, wounded, beautiful Tate, Mackie has too much to lose. Will love finally make him worthy of the human world?

This comes out on September 21st. It is exactly the kind of thing I love to read; dark and disturbing, lovely and haunting. It is filled with creatures you will hate to love and characters you will love to hate. It will not surprise you that Brenna Yovanoff is a critique partner of Maggie Stiefvater’s—the writing is as beautiful as one would expect. Fans of Holly Black’s Modern Faerie Tale Trilogy (particularly Valiant) will devour this book.

AND I AM GOING TO GIVE IT AWAY!

I can only bear to do this because it won’t be too long before I can buy multiple copies to hoard cherish.

ALSO…I’m going to give away THE DUFF by Kody Keplinger.



YES ANOTHER ONE!

Seventeen-year-old Bianca Piper is cynical and loyal, and she doesn't think she's the prettiest of her friends by a long shot. She's also way too smart to fall for the charms of man-slut and slimy school hottie Wesley Rush. In fact, Bianca hates him. And when he nicknames her "Duffy," she throws her Coke in his face.

But things aren't so great at home right now. Desperate for a distraction, Bianca ends up kissing Wesley. And likes it. Eager for escape, she throws herself into a closeted enemies-with-benefits relationship with Wesley.

Until it all goes horribly awry. It turns out that Wesley isn't such a bad listener, and his life is pretty screwed up, too. Suddenly Bianca realizes with absolute horror that she's falling for the guy she thought she hated more than anyone.

It’s the perfect book to read right before or after The Replacement. Just trust me. Don’t question my methods.

And now, THE RULES:

In the comments, recommend a dark and haunting book you loved. It need not be paranormal. Remember to leave your name and your email address so I know how to find you, though.

And for extra entries:

+1 New followers of this here blog
+2 If you're already a follower of this here blog
+1 New followers on Twitter
+2 If you're already a follower on Twitter
+1 Linking to my contest on your blog, twitter, etc. Include links. (up to 5)
+3 For posting about my contest on your blog. (Must be an actual post)
+2 Adding me to your blog roll

Please to tally up your entries in your comments so I can add them, as me + math = FAIL. Winners will be selected randomly, so even if you choose “See Spot Run” as your dark and haunting recommendation, you can still win. And I won't judge you. Ok maybe I will a little bit.

Also, I noticed that there are peoples from Spain, Italy, Hungary, the Philippines, Canada, England, India, Japan, and Greece reading this blog! HELLO! I am so happy that you are here! And I want you all to be in on the fun, so this contest will be international TOO. Last time, our friend Darlyn from MALAYSIA was one of the winners. And let me tell you I felt SO cool at the post office being all like “Yes, I have to send this FANCY package to FANCY MALAYSIA PLEASE. Because I am SO FANCY.”

Also, I have changed my “No Antarcticans” policy because of this.

The contest will end July 22nd at 11:59 pm Eastern time. Winner will be announced July 23rd. Good night, good luck, and thank you 1,000,000,000,000,000,000x for reading. And! Lets not forget! My fellow Bookanistas are reviewing MOAR awesome ARCs over on their blogs:

Elana Johnson is spreading some cover love with BAD TASTE IN BOYS
Christine Fonseca is dishing about TELL ME A SECRET
Scott Tracey is gushing over PARANORMALCY
Beth Revis is spreading some cover love with XVI
Carolina Valdez Miller is raving about FIRELIGHT
Myra McEntire is loving SIREN
Shannon Messenger is digging THE DUFF
Shelli Johannes Wells is adding to the buzz about MATCHED
The Plot This Belles are adoring THE HEALING SPELL
Lisa and Laura Roecker are grilling author Lee Bantle

Now what are you waiting for? ENTER ENTER!

Three of the best industry blogs you might not be reading

Are you three for three? Two for three? One? Zero?

Betsey Lerner

Her blog is exactly my brand of heroin. Having been in the industry for twenty-five years, first as an editor, then as an agent, she is dead on. About everything. And she has the cojones to say what the rest of us barely have the courage to think.

A taste:

"You go from being that kid or teenager who finds within certain books keys to the world. Certain books let you in and your life is no longer lonely. Then we start to write, most of us as kids or teenagers (not Bonnie!), and this strange communion begins to take hold. I think for a long time we learn from everything we read. There is information in every sentence whether it’s a new word, strange syntax, use of tense. A way of getting inside a character’s head. Of ending a chapter. Using a space break. Every book is a university at which we study: plot, character, pacing, metaphor. And then, if this writing thing really takes hold, we find ourselves competing. We read something and think: I could do that, or could I do that, or I can’t believe that motherfucker just did that. And we think this whether or not it’s sheer hubris on our part. I remember one time when my sister ran out and bought a book the minute she heard about it. I asked what compelled her. “It’s the book I always wanted to write,” she confessed."

Scott Eagan

Founder of Greyhaus Literary, Scott exclusively sells romance. But on his blog, he has sharp, detailed, apt advice for all of us.

A taste:

"We've all heard this before. Someone untrained stands up and starts singing the National Anthem on the wrong note. No, I'm not talking about singing off key, I'm talking about the times when they start out a bit too high. When do they figure it out? On the "rockets red glare" portion of the song. At that point, there is simply no where else to go and they die hitting that note. It's painful.

Stories can do the same thing."

Alan Rinzler

A veteran of the industry, Alan’s 46-year career as an editor and publisher provides an unparalleled perspective into the oft mystifying mind of an acquisitions editor. And his work as a freelance developmental editor means that he has valuable advice for those of us looking to hone our skills.

A taste:

"Before all else, keep your attention on the core concept and execution of your book — the writing, the story, the characters, the point and the purpose.

That’s what we acquiring editors and publishers care most about.

For writers who are feeling ignored or rejected by agents or publishers, with no response whatsoever to a query or only a vague but worrisome note like, Not a good fit…We liked it but there wasn’t enough enthusiasm…I have this advice: Remember that these very same agents and editors are searching eagerly for writers every day, scouring print and online sources, hunting for new ideas, trying to discover the next hot debut author.

We can’t survive without you."


So how about you, friends? What industry blogs can’t you survive without?

LOOK WHAT I FOUND IN MY INBOX LOOK LOOK!

Hello my dearset michlle;

I am heppy to have you're mail and am so your simile andkind eyes grey and pretty.

please accept thanksyou in merrige also we accept your QP submisshen.

I would be honour to merrige you simile beautaiful.

you are very very very very very very very very very

Thanks,

T.H. Mafi

QUERYPOLITAN SUBMISSHEN MANAGER

~%@%~

AND NOW not only am I ENGAGED, but MY SUBMISSION IS ACTUALLY UP! ON QUERYPOLITAN!

RIGHT

HERE!

The Copy Corner - The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau Banks

What it says:

Frankie Landau-Banks at age 14:
Debate Club.Her father’s “bunny rabbit.”
A mildly geeky girl attending a highly competitive boarding school.

Frankie Landau-Banks at age 15:
A knockout figure.
A sharp tongue.
A chip on her shoulder.
And a gorgeous new senior boyfriend: the supremely goofy, word-obsessed Matthew Livingston.

Frankie Laundau-Banks.
No longer the kind of girl to take “no” for an answer.
Especially when “no” means she’s excluded from her boyfriend’s all-male secret society.
Not when her ex boyfriend shows up in the strangest of places.
Not when she knows she’s smarter than any of them.
When she knows Matthew’s lying to her.
And when there are so many, many pranks to be done.

Frankie Landau-Banks, at age 16:
Possibly a criminal mastermind.

This is the story of how she got that way.

Why it works: Well, what do you think? FREE FOR ALL IN THE COMMENTS!

I am out of town...

and failed at writing a coherent post for you today. So here is a picture of a bunny with a pancake on its head.



I miss you. I SHALL RETURN!

What Movie Titles Can Do For Your Novel

Some of the best titles are informative.



Others are goal-oriented.



Or, you can lead with: "Legend of _______" for a guaranteed bestseller.



But you can never go wrong when you combine two really exciting things.



And for good measure, add an exclamation point.



If all else fails, take a popular saying about poop and replace it with another word.

On nicknaming the real-life love interest. And Jersey Shore.

me: hold on

i need your helps

so you know how Moonrat

calls her BF or DH

the Rally Monkey

and for Le R

its The Support Team?

My person needs a nickname

thmafi: how about

hmmm

me: like

I want something amusing

thmafi: call him MOOSE

me: or whatevs

LOLOLOL

thmafi: or

SPRINKLER

me: he'd be like

thmafi: or sprinkles

me: .....

thmafi: loool

me: The Rally Monkey

makes sense

because he RALLYS

thmafi: that is cute

me: and Support Team

is cute

bc

I get it

thmafi: so cute

me: he supports

so like

I need one of those

not like

thmafi: hmmmmmmm

me: a random sprinkler wtf are you thinking

me: MOOSE SPRINKLER

thmafi: call him LI

love interest

me: the help desk

thmafi: romantic suitor

OMG

THE HELP DESK

LOVE LOVE

CUSTOMER SERVICE

me: the genius bar

thmafi: LOLOL

ok ok

ummmmm

i love help desk

OR

intern

or

techie

like "intern"

calls her bf

me: intern's is techie bf

thmafi: "techie"

me: yeah

thmafi: yea

hmmm

those two thoughts werent even purposely connected

weird

Protagonist

me: maybe love interest

IDK

thmafi: or
thmafi: ELVIS
thmafi: or soul mate

SOUL MATE

thmafi: OMG

CALL HIM

PRECIOUSSSSSSS

me: LOLOLOLOL

thmafi: or PET

me: HAHAHAH

omg no

he already has a complex

about me treating him like a pet

talking to him like a pet

thmafi: awww

me: like if he does something annoying

I'll be all

KNOCK IT OFF

which is what I'll say to the dogs

if they are being naughty

thmafi: loool

me: he's like
me: I AM NOT A DOG

thmafi: lollll

ok ok

SNOOKUMS

THE SITUATION

THE PREDICAMENT

THE LOCATION

me: WTH

who ARE YOU

thmafi: jersey SHORE

me: i have never seen

thmafi: OMGOMG

WAIT

me: <-----so uncool

thmafi: http://www.mtv.com/shows/jersey_shore/cast_member.jhtml?personalityId=13195

me: WTF

Tahereh

that show

is disgusting.

like

I dont even have to watch it

it affirms my certainty

that there is going to be a second flood.

and we are ALL going to die.

And Jersey Shore

is going to be the evidence.

The Copy Corner, Thursday Edition.

What It Says:

Once upon a time I was a little girl who disappeared.
Once upon a time my name was not Alice.
Once upon a time I didn't know how lucky I was.

When Alice was ten, Ray took her away from her family, her friends -- her life. She learned to give up all power, to endure all pain. She waited for the nightmare to be over.

Now Alice is fifteen and Ray still has her, but he speaks more and more of her death. He does not know it is what she longs for. She does not know he has something more terrifying than death in mind for her.

This is Alice's story. It is one you have never heard, and one you will never, ever forget.

Why It Works:

The excerpt in italics gives us a taste for the powerful, simple voice to expect in the novel. It also raises questions: her name wasn’t Alice? What was it? And why was she lucky? Why isn’t she now?

Then we learn. The parallelism is perfectly executed and the copy is simple, spare, and tight. The content is so dramatic and the spare copy lets that shine through.

Then it raises the stakes: Alice is in danger. Mortal danger. But she would welcome death. Unfortunately for her, her kidnapper has something worse in mind. What is it? What could be worse than death?

Have YOU read Living Dead Girl? And if you have, why did you decide to read it? Did you buy it, or borrow it from a library? GO.