Socially acceptable schizophrenia

o hai there

2012-06-19T02:17:43Z

So, once again, I have been super duper absent from the interwebz. And especially this blog.

Here are my excuses: 1.) I graduated.

2.) I graduated.

3.) I FREAKING GRADUATED YOU GUYS.

Bachelor's in English with an Emphasis in Creative Writing. BOO-YAH.

So yeah, that's kind of a big deal. XD

Also, if it's alright with my loverly readers, I think I'm going to transfer this blog to Tumblr.

Because structure makes me nervous, and Tumblr is deliciously unstructured, and posting daily or weekly is much less intimidating when my blog involves pictures and songs and lyrics as well as real, grownup blog posts. Okay? Okay. Cool.

So here's the link to my Tumblr if you'd like to follow me there: http://kristin-briana.tumblr.com. Currently it's full of the aforementioned pictures and songs and lyrics, but soon I will be posting writing-related things again. Hurray!

Hey. Did I mention that I graduated?

Health & environmentalism & a little bit of a soap box

2012-02-12T20:34:56Z

My sister has been calling me a hippie since I was ten, due to the fact that - even as a fifth grader - I spent my money on flowers and used books and organic cotton clothing. Over time, I embraced my inherent hippie-ness. I stopped eating red meat when I was nineteen, shopped almost exclusively at thrift stores, bought organic food whenever possible. This year, however, I want to take my environmentally-conscious, animal-loving, tree-hugging ways to the next level.

So, without further ado, this is my manifesto for this year's health-conscious, earth-conscious lifestyle.

1. I want to convert to veganism.

kodykeplinger inspired this one, thanks to her recent conversion. But, peer pressure aside, my family history is full of high cholesterol and some very weird stomach problems. I've never handled rich, high fat foods well. A greasy cheeseburger could leave me doubled over for days. A piece of fried chicken could have me puking all night. So this dietary change is as much for myself as it is for environmental reasons. But, environmentally speaking - animal products sort of suck if not produced/processed correctly. We could feed the whole country with all the grains America pours down the throats of cows and chickens and pigs to fatten them for slaughter. So yeah. It bothers me. So I'm going veggie.

2. I want to grow a garden.

...but I live in an apartment, so this is going to be interesting. However, I've been doing lots of research on urban gardening, and it is definitely possible and even simple. Plus, I'm in college. I love fresh produce, but it's not priced like those ramen noodles and potato chips. So, the garden is a combination health + cost + environmental choice.

3. I want to cut down on waste.

I have travel mugs. I love my travel mugs. Travel mugs are the best inventions EVER invented for coffee lovers. So why do I insist on using the styrofoam cups at the coffee shop? Why don't I just bring my travel mug? I don't know, but I've got to quit. There are a dozen paper coffee cups rolling around in my car right now, and I feel stupid and guilty every time I see them.

4. I want to walk more.

I live in a relatively nice neighborhood. It's not difficult for me to walk to school two or three days out of the week. I need to start doing that.

Do you have any environmental/health-oriented goals this year?

Questions

2012-01-21T16:47:31Z

So I'm struggling here.

I don't know how to blog.

I mean, I know how to blog about writerly things - about word counts and agents and revisions and character arcs - but I do that all the time, on this blog and on YA Highway. Sometimes, writerly posts just don't seem like enough. Sometimes there are other things going on in my brain and my heart, and I don't know whether I'm allowed to post them or not.

A lot of you are probably aware of the blow-up concerning authors/reviewers, and whether or not authors should be allowed to comment on their own reviews, and whether or not reviewers should be nicer, and yada yada yada. Well, it was a mess, and lots of people had lots of opinions, and lots of people got their feelings hurt. But I think what was important about that controversy was the question of professionalism. It made a lot of people start talking about how professionals are meant to act in the publishing community.

And here's my dilemma: how DO I act professional? Can I write about life and opinions and boys and my cats and my faith, and yet still be professional? Should I devote this blog entirely to my journey as a writer but leave out my journey as a human being? Can I say things that may occasionally be controversial or hypothetical without someone slapping my name on Publisher's Weekly as an example of an "unprofessional writer"?

I don't know. Like I said, I'm struggling with this. Does anyone have some tips for me?

2011 Music in Review

2012-01-01T19:13:10Z

The songs that played over and over throughout this year. :)

"Heartbeat," The Fray

"Sing," My Chemical Romance

"Won't Go Quietly," All That Remains

"It's Time," Imagine Dragons

"Beside You," Marianas Trench

"Come Away," Jesus Culture

"Hello World," Lady Antebellum

"Be Still and Breathe," Ivoryline

"Courageous," Casting Crowns

"Song for the Broken," Close Your Eyes

"Sooner or Later," Breaking Benjamin

2011 in Review

2011-12-31T18:53:20Z

Twenty-first birthday. Seattle. Chalk comic strips on the Riverwalk. Tattoos. Vintage shopping. Baking. Monday late nights at Applebees. Publishing internship. State fair. Busch Gardens. Swedish fish and sour patch kids, stuffed into apron pockets on busy Fridays. The Smithsonian and Thai food in the midst of a heatwave Candy bar runs. Kittens. Writing. Re-writing. Re-re-writing. Harry Potter premier - dressed up as Hermione. Breaking Dawn premier - dressed up as Hermione. Chin-length pixie hair. Weddings, weddings, weddings - none of them mine. Babies, babies, babies - none of them mine. Relationships, failed and flawed, but still precious. Friendships, old and new and renewed.

Rediscovering John Eldredge and Neil Gaiman. Rereading my Bible. Unearthing adult lessons in children's books - The Last Unicorn. Tales from Outer Suburbia. The Magician's Elephant, The Neverending Story. Understanding the immeasurable talent of my critique group. Learning to love feminist literature. Falling further in love with Chicano and Native American literature.

Redefining myself. Accepting myself. Challenging myself.

Evaluating the future. Examining the past. Setting my creativity free. Letting God mold my soul. Practicing patience. Practicing passion. Understanding my flaws. Shattering the walls that surround my heart. Delighting in my Father. Trying new things. Facing my fears. Trusting, despite those fears. Hoping, despite the sadness. Loving and loving and loving, despite everything.

Bring on the new year.

Blog Circus: Day 5

2011-12-31T05:30:13Z

Most Anticipated Books of 2012

Crewel by Gennifer Albin

The Diviners by Libba Bray

Blog Circus: Day 4

2011-12-29T17:35:01Z

Top 5 Most Recommended Books of 2011

I converted six people to the Hunger Games fandom this year. SIX. I am so proud.

This is a wonderful devotional-esque book about what it means to be a woman...except it's actually good. Most books about "how to be a Godly young lady" make me want to kick the author in the face. This one is real and sweet and it helps to heal all those broken inside that say you're not good enough or strong enough or pretty enough. I've reread it at least three times, and recommended it even more.

I have been recommending this book since the day I read it. It's moving and heartbreaking and magical and real, all at the same time.

The best - and probably the only - YA horror I've ever read. The best part about THE PRICKER BOY is that you never fully grasp whether the terror is psychological or whether it's real, and that's what makes it so intense.

Steampunk YA. Narrated by the cabin boy on a luxury airship, who's in love with a beautiful, wealthy passenger, who's looking for the mythical creatures her grandfather died trying to find. Yeah. It's awesome.

The best part about this book is that it's about fairies but it's not about fairies. It's also creepy and sweet and poetic and absolutely fantastic.

Blog Circus: Day 3

2011-12-28T19:59:08Z

What were your top 5 favorite books of the year?

Michael Ende's The Neverending Story is hardly new, but it's new to me, so I'm including it. I loved the Neverending Story movies when I was younger, but the movies are pale and pathetic in comparison with the glittering beauty of Ende's poetic writing, his gorgeous world of Fantastica, and his incredible characters.

Nova Ren Suma's Imaginary Girls is a book I've seen on a lot of "best of" lists this year - but there is a good reason for that. It's awesome. This is the first book I point to when I want to explain what fantastic magical realism looks like. It's also the first book I point to when I want to describe the kind of books I want to write...but I digress.

Will Shetterly's Elsewhere is also not a new book, but it's one of the best books on the Borderland I've ever read. The Borderland is a topic that has been explored a lot in YA literature, but in my humble opinion, this is the best tale of human-meets-fey-meets-magic-meets-technology. The setting is rich, the characters are awesome, and the plot twists are heartrending and head-spinning.

Since I've already gushed about Laini Taylor's Daughter of Smoke and Bone I'll just remind everyone to read it. Now. NOW.

Yeah. This one too. Go read this one.

Check out the other bloggers participating in Sarah's Blog Circus!

Blog Circus: Day 2

2011-12-27T05:06:37Z

Top 5 YA Girls / Guys of 2011

I didn't get to half the books in my to-read pile this year, which means I am an epic fail when it comes to this list. I had to narrow it down to one favorite guy and one favorite girl.

1. Karou - Daughter of Smoke and Bone - Laini Taylor
She has blue hair. I mean, that alone would catapult her to the top of my favorites list. But she's also badass and sensitive and conflicted and artistic, which just sweetens the deal.

And this book...THIS BOOK...Oh man. It definitely wasn't perfect, but Laini Taylor's writing and world-building are so magical that I always, always fall in love with her novels.

2. Four - Divergent - Veronica Roth

I may or may not have had inappropriate dreams about this boy. I'll let you wonder about that, while I go and reread this book. And count the days until Insurgent.

But seriously. Four is such a wonderfully well-realized character, especially considering he's not the love interest. He is strong and selfless, but he also has moments of cruelty and vulnerability. There were times when I found him a more relatable character than Tris herself, but I suspect that's part of Tris's character arc - becoming a vulnerable, but still courageous, young woman.

Check out the other bloggers participating in Sarah's Blog Circus!

Blog Circus: Day 1. Also, an explanation.

2011-12-26T16:42:43Z

So. I have been absent for a very long time. And by "absent" I mean "I have not blogged in an eternity, and I'm sorry, please forgive me, I know it's not like I have a super interesting blog anyway but I do apologize for those of you who actually think I'm funny or informative or whatever."

The only excuse I really have is school and work, which is my tried-and-true, oft-used excuse, but it's a good one, so I'm going to keep using it.

HOWEVER, Spring 2012 is officially my last semester of college, and then I will be gallivanting around the world doing cool post-grad things and blogging about them. This is the plan, anyway. Let's hope money and time allow for this plan to become a reality.

Other new and exciting things:

~ I'm going to finish SEVEN this year. Hopefully early in the year. Hopefully around February. :D

~ It's no longer titled SEVEN. I have no idea what I'm going to call it, but I'm tentatively playing with the word CLAIM (v.: "to demand as a right or as due"; n.: "something that is claimed, especially a piece of land, for mining or other purposes"). If anyone has any ideas on how to turn that word into a title, please let me know.

~ I'm starting an internship with a literary agent this coming January. Sooo excited. :)

~ Did I mention that I'm GRADUATING?? IN THE SPRING???

So this is my life right now.

But that's not the real reason I am blogging today. The real reason I am blogging is because the lovely and talented Sarah Enni is doing her annual Blog Circus, in which we talk about the awesome things that we read/watched/listened to this year.

Day 1: Top 5 favorite albums / songs to write to in the year 2011

1. "Prelude 12/21," by AFI

"This is what I brought you, this you can keep
This is what I brought, you may forget me
I promise to depart, just promise one thing:
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep."

2. Ceremonials, by Florence + The Machine. Particularly "No Light No Light" and "Shake It Out."

"No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent..."

3. "Some Are Love," by Des Ark

"This summer's going to wreck us, going to crush this little boy
This will be the season when we learn not to forget
The ones we call our friends, they aren't enemies quite yet..."

4. "Picture Perfect (In Your Eyes)," 10 Years

"The stars are burning brighter
So bright we can't ignore
We're hypnotized by televised train wrecks
Tragedy's a paycheck
Maybe I'm a product of my placement
Given no chance to make up our minds...
But in your eyes I'm picture perfect
In your eyes the grass is greener
Have you seen it through my eyes?"

5. "Bones," Little Big Town

"You got bones in your closet
You got ghosts in your town
Ain't no doubt, yeah they're going to come out
They're waiting on the sun to go down
You can't hide from your demons
Feel them all lurking around
You're running scared 'cause you know they're out there
They're waiting on the sun to go down..."

If you want to join Sarah's blog circus, hop over to her blog and check it out! Tomorrow's theme: Top 5 Favorite YA Girls/Guys. :)

Road Trip Wednesday

2011-09-14T15:58:44Z

This Week's Topic:

What themes, settings, motifs, scenes, or other elements do you find recurring in your work?

1. The Problem Child

2. Weird Names That I Would Totally Give My Children Even Though The Other Parents Would Raise An Eyebrow

3. The Scary Manipulative Dude Who Seduces You Despite Your Better Judgment

4. Abandoned Places That May or May Not Be Haunted

5. Motorcycles / Dirtbikes / Other Dangerous Forms of Transportation

6. Animals That Wouldn't Be Scary in Normal Situations But Are Made Scary By Mutations or Curses or Creepy Campfire Stories

7. Alternating POVs

8. Relationships with Illegal Boys, with Dead Boys, with Cursed Boys, with Emotionally Damaged Boys... basically I just like Really Messy Relationships and Really Messy Dudes.

9. Lots of Blinking, Staring, Peering, Gazing, Raising of Eyebrows, and Widening of Eyes. (I'm working on this one.)

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.

Research

2011-08-04T15:25:10Z

So, in the absence of any inspiration whatsoever, I took a trip to Dead Horse.

Well. Sort of.

An In-Depth Analysis of My Writing Process

2011-08-03T04:47:59Z

Step 1: Daydream all day at work, plotting backstory and conversations between characters and intense scenes of intensity.

Step 2: Skip all the way home with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY that the words will come.

Step 3: Power up the computer.

Step 4: Open document.

Step 5: Fight rising panic and the painful screams of the inner editor.

Step 6: Slap the inner editor and repeat mantra: "It'll be okay. We can do this. It'll be okay."

Step 7: Make tea.

Step 8: Decide tea is not strong enough. Grab a beer.

Step 9: Put on some mood music to get in the mood.

Step 10: Call up writer friends just to make sure that intense scene of intensity will fit with the rest of the story.

Step 11: Nervously eyeball document again. Type a few sentences.

Step 12: Erase a few sentences.

Step 13: Save document. Finish beer. Decide to try again tomorrow.

Road Trip Wednesday: Pictures!

2011-07-06T13:41:39Z

Share some images that inspire your WIP(s). We've done this topic before, but it's been quite a while, and pictures are always fun.

True that.

A random sampling of my Inspirational Pictures folder (yes, I actually have one of those):

Road Trip Wednesday: Best Book of the Month

2011-06-29T16:41:11Z

This is a tough one for me, because I've been gobbling up so many wonderful books since classes ended for the summer. And even though it might not be the *best* book I've read so far, there is one novel in particular that I can't seem to get out of my head.

Tangerine is one of those boy books that everybody swears doesn't exist. It's got a strong voice and strong characters and several subplots that tie together beautifully in the end. This book is beyond believable, but the setting holds just a touch of magic, a little bit of gothic horror that gives the book a surreal flavor despite its contemporary plot. Definitely a great debut from this author.

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.

Roadtrip Wednesday: LIKE MANDARIN!

2011-03-09T17:33:19Z

In honor of the release of Kirsten Hubbard's debut LIKE MANDARIN, YA Highway is putting themselves into Grace's shoes for a while. Grace would give anything to be like Mandarin...but what about the rest of us?

To answer this topic, I'm going to have to take you back in time with a series of embarrassing melodramatic flashbacks. Ready, set...

FLASH.

It's 2004, and I step into a public high school for the first time. After five years of private schooling and three years of home schooling, even our town's tiny high school seems overwhelming. I'm wearing something that I feel is stylish, even though I have no concept of style as the world defines it. My heart is pounding so loud that I'm sure everyone can hear it, just as I'm sure everyone can see my sweaty pits and shaking hands. But as it turns out, no one sees me at all. I spend most of the day sitting alone, staying quiet, and feeling invisible.

FLASH.

The next four years are spent wrestling with the desire to be noticed and the desire to remain in the background. Sure, I make friends. Sure, every now and then I go with my gut and give that speech/presentation/monologue that is risky and controversial and puts me in the spotlight for a few minutes. But even after I graduate, I still struggle with these two people living inside me. Do I want to be seen, or do I want to be invisible?

So...who did I idolize in high school? Who was the person for whom I would have sold my soul in exchange for friendship?

I'm not sure if there was one individual, but I do remember being in awe of those girls who were effortlessly graceful; who knew who they were but didn't have to flaunt it; who could wear baggy boys' jeans one day and a feathery lace dress the next. They didn't fit a label or a mold - they created their own. They just WERE, and somehow it was enough.

When I got into college, I started experimenting with this new, label-less way of living. I tried to stop thinking of myself as someone who had to either disappear or revel in the spotlight. I let myself be occasionally loud and goofy and outrageous; I let myself take two days to write and read and be alone.

And now, when I look back on my scared skinny fourteen-year-old self, I'm startled to realize that the person that girl probably would have idolized in high school...is me.

Not that I'm perfect. Not that I see myself as a role model for fourteen-year-old girls everywhere. But as far as learning to be comfortable in my own skin, I think I'm finally getting the hang of it.

Took me long enough.

From: A Liberally-Conservative Feminist Christian Woman. To: Everyone

2011-02-25T19:15:56Z

1. I don't hate you. Really. There may come a time when I will disagree with your opinions, politics, lifestyle, or choices...but that doesn't mean I hate you. I promise.

2. I don't judge you, either. I'm not a deity, so the job of passing judgment is outside of my jurisdiction.

3. I believe in God, and Jesus, and salvation and grace and hope and Heaven and all that stuff. That doesn't mean I want to kill you or imprison you or beat you because you don't believe the same way.

4. I will probably teach my children these things I believe - although, of course, I want they develop opinions of their own. But just because I raise my kids in way that encourages them to vote for/against things that you might believe, that doesn't mean I'm teaching them to hate you. In fact, I will feel like a failure as a parent and a person if they grow up to hate you.

5. There are a lot of things I don't get - about life, and love, and health care, and the social unrest in the Middle East, and what makes a good person, and how far is too far, and what is not far enough. I'm only human. I believe what I believe for good reason, but some of it is simply outside the realm of my limited understanding.

6. There are people out there who claim to know God, and they do horrible things in His name. I am not those people. Please don't judge me for their actions. And please don't judge Him, either, because from what I understand about Jesus, I'm pretty sure He's not happy about the cruelty and hypocrisy that exists among those who call themselves His followers.

7. Above all else, please know this: I love you. I love you because you are a human being, and, according to what I believe, you are the flesh-and-blood reflection of God. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. You are my brother, sister, friend, cousin, teacher, lover. You were molded from the same dirt that I was, and no matter your beliefs or your opinions or your lifestyle or your political ideologies, I love you

I love you

I LOVE YOU.

(i love you.)

When it's all too much

2011-02-05T06:38:12Z

So I've run into this problem with my manuscript. Usually when I write, I become blocked when I don't have enough information or I don't fully understand the themes or the characters. But right now, the opposite is true - I have too much of everything.

Recently, I've been doing a lot of research: reading books about the setting of my novel, collecting articles, surfing the Web, and last weekend I even visited the mountains where the book takes place. I talked to the people who lived there. I wandered the cemeteries and read the gravestones. I visited memorials, the sites of reported hauntings, hangings, and massacres.

And do you know what I learned?

Too much.

I met people whose lives were far more fascinating than anything I could write. I saw places far more beautiful than words could ever describe. I felt the vastness of a country that could never be captured in fiction. And it was all just so overwhelming and beautiful and surreal that I felt writer's block hurtling toward me in a new, scary way. I have themes. I have plots. I have history and legends and personal accounts of growing up in the southwest.

But I'm afraid I can never do it justice.

Do you ever have this problem? Do you ever feel that your characters/setting/plot might just be too much for you to handle?

RTW: A world of my own...

2011-01-26T16:41:28Z

This week's topic: If you could live within the universe of one book, which would you choose?

This one is almost too easy. The answer has been the same since I was ten years old.

i can haz adventures in pretty narnia ship pleez?

*Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question and answer it on our own blogs. You can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.

Narcissism vs. Networking

2011-01-21T21:11:49Z

When it comes down to it, we're all narcissists to an extent. If you're reading this blog, you probably have a blog of your own. Which means you created a website so that you could talk about yourself. Which means that at least some part of you is an arrogant SOB.

That's not necessarily a bad thing. It's okay to talk about yourself, to share your interests and hobbies. But the problem with the internet is that it gives us an excuse to never. Shut. Up. Twitter and Facebook and blogging and tumblr - all of these mediums offer new and exciting ways to brag about your new WIP and your dog and your word count for the day and your house and your kids.

That's...not really okay. Not when you're trying to use these mediums as networking opportunities, anyway.

The problem with being a narcissist on the internet is that, at a certain point, no one cares anymore. Not everyone can relate to your stories about your dog, your kids, or your job. Not everyone wants to hear about your epic YA fantasy ALL THE TIME. When you only talk about yourself, you're not networking; you're isolating.

Blogging follows the same rule as real life conversation - ask questions. Find out what interests other people. If you're discussing something on your blog, try to make it relatable to everyone. If you're sharing a story about your own life, open yourself to your readers. Ask them what crazy antics their kids are up to, whether or not their dog has ever chewed up the blinds. Ultimately, networking is about connecting with others in your field; it's not your own personal stage.

How do you guys keep your blogs relevant instead of narcissistic?

Live-blogging the first day of a new semester

2011-01-18T01:21:03Z

* First class of the day and I'm already behind - BUT I sit next to one of my best friends. Funny how we never mature beyond a kindergarten mindset in that regard.

* My grammar professor wears a sweater vest. I bet there's a rule that if you teach grammar at a college level, you must wear a sweater vest.

* Said grammar professor just asked me if this class was going to be "too mindlessly boring for you." He must have noticed my yawning.

* STARVING STARVING STARVING STARVING - vending machine!!! - OM NOM NOM NOM NOM.

* WTF. This bathroom smells like a pet store. Do I want to know?

* One book overlapping two classes = WIN. I wonder how I can use this to my advantage. Would the teachers notice if I turned in the same essay for both courses?

* This professor looks like an older Spencer Reid, except without the cute chipmunk voice.

Calling all college kids - how's your new semester going so far?

Teaser Tuesday: SEVEN (chapter 6)

2010-12-21T20:12:54Z

(Bad language abounds. Read at your own risk.)

I pushed open the barn door.

He was playing guitar. I could hear him, somewhere above me, plucking chords that spilled over the loft and fluttered down like snowflakes. I reached for the ladder and climbed up until I hovered just under the eaves of the barn.

Penn was sprawled in a pile of hay, legs crossed at the ankles, eyes half-closed. I heard him humming to himself, a soft off-key melody that provided a second layer to the sound of guitar chords. An electric lantern cast long shadows across his face, highlighting strong cheekbones and deep-set eyes that I never noticed in the daytime.

And suddenly all my curiosity froze into a rage like cold steel, and in my mind I saw Drake’s shark-like grin and Logan’s snarling bitterness and Anevay’s cool purring pride – but mostly I saw Penn, doing nothing, saying nothing, while they ripped me apart. A baby seal in bloodied high school waters.

I think I actually shook from anger as I stared at him in his music-induced coma, sleepy and smiling. I wanted to say something clever and demeaning, something to shake his calm and make his dignity shiver inside. But all that came out was a growl, coyote-like, barely human. “Hey, you!”

He jumped up, and the guitar fell from his fingers with a claaang that sounded decidedly unhealthy for a guitar. “Shit,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

I hauled myself into the loft and stood in front of him, hands on my hips. “This is my property, asshole. Remember?”

He blinked at me, then smiled with one side of his mouth. “Déjà vu. Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

“Fuck you.”

The smile melted away, morphing into a puzzled frown. “Okay. Wow. That was harsh.”

“I don’t know anyone in this town,” I half-shouted, “and I’m behind in half my classes, and I was nervous, and I was just trying to be friendly – but you didn’t care. You let them eat me alive, and you didn’t even care.” Tears burned in my eyes. I blinked them away before they could fall, resentful that he was still humiliating me, still ripping me apart at three in the morning with only the baying coyotes as witnesses. “Look, I’m sorry if I messed up your little hierarchy. I don’t know what the hell kind of issues you have, but next time you could at least try not to treat me like some leper, okay? Try to treat me like a human being, even if I’m just another human being you don’t notice until they’re pouring your coffee or something.”

And that was probably the most pathetic thing I’d ever said in my life.

Penn didn’t answer, but I felt his eyes on me, buried in the flickering shadows. I ducked my head, letting hair fall across my face to hide the bright blush that scorched my cheeks. “Well. That’s all I had to say.” And as I backed toward the ladder I prayed that this whole incident was just part of a dream, that I’d wake up tomorrow morning and remind myself never to eat Mom’s jalapeno nachos again.

“Asha, wait.” He stepped into the glare of the lantern, so that his face materialized from the dusty dimness. I didn’t want to look at that face, because even with my peripherals I could see the silent apology written there, and I wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet.

But he didn’t ask for forgiveness. Instead he said, “The coyotes keep me up, too. They’re louder now than they used to be. Guess the pack is growing.”

I swallowed hard and lifted my eyes for a split second to watch him chewing on his lip, running his hands over and over his short dark hair. “Dad had to shoot a few last week, you know – they tried to take down one of our foals. Usually they stick to smaller game, rabbits and squirrels, but these past few months…” He shrugged, a helpless miserable gesture, and glanced up at me.

I concentrated on the patches and whorls in the wood floor. “They sound like dying things. Dying animals, or babies…it’s creepy as hell.”

He laughed slightly, a breathy nervous laugh meant to relieve tension. “My Gran – she used to tell me all kinds of stories, when I was little. In Ute legends, coyotes were trickster-gods. They’d steal kids and meat and women from the People. They stole the raven’s feathers and the fox’s magic. They were kind of like Loony Toons – bad guys who lit themselves on fire and got anvils dropped on their heads.” He paused. “But even though they laughed, everyone knew not to trust a coyote.”

We were silent, watching the lantern light mingle with the moon, and I felt some of the knots uncoil from my neck and shoulders. “Those are some pretty messed up bedtime stories.”

The corner of his mouth curled in that familiar half-smile. “Yeah. Well. Gran called it a ‘traditional education.’ I call it childhood trauma.”

Photo credit: http://www.danieloneilmemorialfund.com/barn/barn.html

Roadtrip Wednesday: November's best book

2010-11-24T17:49:01Z

This week's topic: What's the best book you read in November?

Because I'm neck-deep in a research paper (CURSE YOU, COLLEGE PROFESSORS! THIS IS A FREAKING HOLIDAY!), I'm going to be lazy and re-hash what I wrote on Goodreads:

"FINALLY, someone wrote a book about fey that wasn't really about fey. Someone wrote a YA horror that wasn't really a horror. Someone wrote a novel that was smart and creepy and hot and lyrical, but simultaneously defied all of those descriptions.

I loved this book precisely because I couldn't define it. I loved it because it combined good old-fashioned Celtic lore with the lore that exists in every single small town in America - the mythology that walks hand-in-hand with haunted houses, and supposed witches in the graveyard, and family curses that may or may not be true. It takes the real and mixes it with the surreal, and the result is a book that kept me awake until two a.m. and left me sleepless the rest of the night."

Brenna Yovanoff, you are a fabulous storyteller and I hereby swear that I will buy everything you ever write. Thanks for the sleepless night.

Road Trip Wednesday is a "Blog Carnival," where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question and answer it on our own blogs. You can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.

Short story: Gancanagh

2010-11-22T18:16:11Z

Short story: Gancanagh

Every Monday, Tuesday and Sunday he donned his black polo shirt, name tag, and customer-friendly grin , and all the managers pretended not to notice the too-pointed teeth or the ears that curled up into his black hair. Because, really, there was nothing they could do about it – not during the daylight hours, when everyone liked to imagine that technology and the twenty-first century had driven Them into permanent hiding. And anyway, he was good at his job, and good employees were hard to find.

He worked in gift exchange, and I worked in the toy department, and sometimes during our lunch break we’d hang out in the back and talk for much longer than our allotted hour. I learned that he lived with his mother on the outskirts of town. They kept a nursery – a tiny plot of land with a half-rotted potting shed and flowers that grew as tall as wheatgrass.

I was never afraid of him. He was thin as a willow sapling, and his features were fragile and pointed, and his canines looked wicked when they flashed in the sun – but despite all my Nana’s stories, I saw nothing to fear. He was just a boy, a few years older than me, whose face grew soft and happy when he talked about gardening.

And then, one day, he touched me.

I was cashing out the back register, and it was nearing nine o’clock, and I was tired and hungry and thinking about Nana’s leftover chicken and dumplings…and suddenly, he was there. I could’ve sworn he went home hours ago, but he was standing right behind me, a handful of inches separating our bodies. I could smell the otherness on him, a smell like decomposing leaves and lightning. He was warm, warmer than I imagined, with electricity in his skin that snapped back and forth between us. His eyes were green, but I’d never noticed before because in the daylight they were mild and pale, the color of old celery. Now they burned bright under the dim fluorescence, and I was certain they’d grown – waxing like moons until they took up far too much of his face.

“Tessa,” he whispered, in a hungry tone that writhed in my stomach. He took my wrist, and his fingers were hot and dry, like he had a fever.

“Tessa.” His voice pitched to a shrill moan, half-mad with the pain of restraint, and his fingers trembled against mine, and suddenly I knew exactly what he wanted.

Because of course it wasn’t natural for Them, to live so long in a world of metal and smoke without partaking in some of the more pleasant things. I wondered how long it had been – how long he’d worked and gardened and played nice with the humans, all the while trying to keep his hands from brushing a girl’s cheek and bleeding her dry.

His skin burned against mine, and I felt a pull deep in my gut that begged me to close the distance between us. I stumbled, gasping, gulping down his scent – but then, in a flash, he was gone.

He didn’t speak to me for weeks after that, and he wore gloves at work. I don’t think the managers noticed, but I did. Thin scraps of latex that molded to his hands and kept him from accidentally pulling from a baby or a little girl with braces and bubblegum. It was all very noble, but it made no difference to me, because after a week of being ignored I realized that the deep-rooted desire in my belly had started long before he touched me.

A month passed before I made a plan. Actually, it wasn’t a plan so much as a gnawing frustration in my chest.

I was hungry too.

So one morning I pushed past the crowd of customers, leaned against the cash register and said, “Come to my house tonight.”

He blinked at me with the look of someone who was facing a Rottweiler, and under different circumstances it might have been funny, since he was the one with the sharp teeth.

“I – I’m kind of busy…”

“Come over for dinner,” I interrupted. “My Nana’s making eggplant parmesan. Or you can come over after dinner. Either way.”

His eyes flicked back and forth across the line of customers, and he leaned closer to me. “Tessa,” he said. “This isn’t – we can’t –”

“You can,” I said firmly. “You can come over at eight o’clock and eat eggplant with me. Stop pretending like you don’t want to.”

He swallowed and licked his lips in a way that wasn’t just nerves or habit, and I shivered without meaning to.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

God, I hoped so.

*

He was late, but I didn’t care – I figured he would be. He stood in the doorway with huge green eyes that matched the full moon and skin that looked transparent, but his thumbs were hooked in his ragged denim jeans and he wore a white Abercrombie t-shirt that I saw at the mall last weekend. I almost laughed, but I stopped myself because he looked so utterly miserable.

“What’s wrong?”

He hesitated, took a step forward, then immediately jumped back. “It doesn’t work,” he said hoarsely. “You don’t understand. It’s all or nothing for me. I take nothing, or I take everything, and you’re left shivering on the floor like a lapdog, whimpering and begging to adore me. Food and water and family – none of it matters, because I’ve taken all of you, your whole self. I will own you.” His voice was harsh and grating, and in the moonlight the angular planes of his face looked ancient.

I felt a strange kind of pity flare up inside me. “It’s too risky, you mean.”

He nodded, his eyes glued to the floor.

I took a step toward him. “No.”

He glanced up with a faint look of panic and pain.

“For all the women you’ve known, you really don’t get us, do you? There’s always risk. We always have to fight to keep hold of ourselves. I don’t know, maybe it’s just who we are – we’re good at giving ourselves away. We’re mothers and sisters and wives and lovers; we give and give and sometimes we forget about us, and it’s hard.” I took another more step, moving slowly, like I was trying to touch a scared stray dog. “But maybe you’re not giving us enough credit. I mean, look at you – you’re standing here in my house, with electric toasters and steel knives, and you’re not dying or turning into a monster. You’ve evolved.” One more step, and I was inches away, my hand hovering next to his cheek. “So maybe we’ve evolved a little, too. Maybe you should trust me to hold onto myself...and still hold onto you.”

He hissed as my palm flattened against his cheek, and I felt a simmering somewhere in my middle, and in the few seconds before our lips met I was thinking of my Nana and her dumplings and the magic of new gardens and the white moonlight coming in through the kitchen windows –

And when he kissed me, the hungry need in my belly stretched and grew and changed into want – just risky, messy, everyday desire – and I kissed him back with all the fierceness of my humanity.

***Ten points to the person who can give me the definition of a gancanagh. :)

kristin_briana @ 2010-11-18T10:29:00

2010-11-18T17:29:20Z

On SEVEN:

~ It has been greenlit by Agent Michelle - which means that, unless my outline falls to pieces or my brain leaks out my ears in the next few months (a distinct possibility...), SEVEN will be my second novel.

~ Along with the greenlight, Agent Michelle also sent me articles and websites and notes and suggestions for the plot/characters/ setting, and they were brilliant and exciting but also headache-inducing. She is too smart for me.

~ SEVEN is defying genres. Agent Michelle is calling it "psychological horror"; I am calling it "the paranormal contemporary western with creepyhot boys and urban legends and some historical stuff thrown in just for the hell of it." (This is why she is the agent and I am not.)

On SCHOOL:

~ Dudes. I graduate in a year. As in, winter of 2011. As in, two semesters from now, I will be a real adult with a college degree in English With An Emphasis in Creative Writing. DUUUUUUDES... O_o

~ I don't care about post-structuralism or new historicism, and yet I have to write a paper on it. How is this fair?

~ I have a research paper to write over Thanksgiving break (on The Great Gatsby and how it critiques gender roles in the 20s) along with a book to read (DRACULA, by Bram Stoker, so it could be worse). No football for me - I will be neck deep in Gothic and modern American literature.

On HARRY POTTER:

~ I am going. At midnight. And it will be EPIC.