My New Invention

It's finally quiet around the house and I thought I'd get to work. But what to do? Should I link some stuff up on my website? Probably, I do have a book that just came out. But maybe I should revise a picture book. They're waiting! I know, I really should work on the MG that I've been thinking about all day. No, the YA! Write a query! Do some publisher research? I really need to get some manuscripts out into the world. I know! Write something new. I have some great new ideas I'm dying to flesh out. But do I really need to write something new when I have so many other manuscripts piled up and waiting for my attention? How in the world to decide? I have the solution! Writer's dice. I'm going to put each option on one side of a die and then roll and see what I win. It will be perfect for those indecisive times like, um, now.

What My Husband Thinks a Query Letter Should Say

I was looking through the documents on my computer today and found this. It's the opening paragraph to a query letter that my husband wrote for me after I went to a conference. It amuses me, so I thought I'd share it. Here it is in all it's glory:

Two blondes walk into a bar. The bartender says, “what can I get you two ladies?” The first blonde looks at her companion and says “I’ll have what she’s having.” A look of desperation creeps across the second blonde's face. She says, “my name is Heather Ayris Burnell, the aforementioned blondes were just to get your attention, I actually write children’s books and would like you to represent me, as my agent. Unfortunately, I was too shy to talk to you at the SCBWI WWA conference."

Then I'm supposed to tell the agent about my book. No, I didn't use this fabulous opening paragraph so kindly written just for me. I went with my nice, normal-type query letter. I still managed to get an invitation to send more work. Go figure.

Microclimates

One evening not too long ago I was home writing while my family was out fishing. A crazy-huge storm burst in. It rained so hard that I was soaked the second I walked outside. I stood in water up to my ankles in the yard. It hailed too. Bolts of lightening cracked through the sky like a giant whip.

Here I was at the top of my mountain worrying about my family, who was at the bottom of the mountain at the river. (Flash flood anyone?) It takes around 45 minutes to drive to the river even though it is only a few miles away as the crow flies. So, I'm trying not to worry. The kids are with their Dad, they're fine, I tell myself over and over. They got out of there when it started to rain.

They didn't, but they're perfectly fine. Why? Because it barely sprinkled--a couple of miles away. Microclimates. Harsh weather right here on top of the mountain. Warm and pleasant at the bottom.

Of course, as pretty much everything in life, it makes me think of publishing. (No, I'm not obsessed or anything.) There are tons of publishing houses. They all publish books. From off in the distance they look a lot alike. Seems the weather should be about the same, they're all close enough. Right? No way!

Even if two publishers publish the same kind of book, say picture books, they may be looking for completely different types of stories. Don't send your edgy story with human characters to a publisher who only does stories about animals. Find a publisher who likes edgy picture books. Don't send your 250 word story to a publisher who wants picture books that come in around 1000 words. (Yes, there are still some of those out there.) No matter what type of book you are writing, you need to do research on who to send your manuscript to. It may be raining literary young adult novels at the top of one mountain while it sprinkles educational non-fiction for grades 4-12 at another.

How do you do this? You're on the internet right now, aren't you? Find the websites of the publishers who interest you. Look at the books on their list. Read about the company. Find their submission guidelines and go over them. Find books similar to yours. Look up those publishers. Research, research, research. Then send out your well-targeted manuscript and hope for that storm of good news to roll in!

Influenced?

I had never really thought about it before--my book, Bedtime Monster, being influenced by another book. As I was listening to a talk about Where the Wild Things Are on NPR I remembered how I'd read Sendak's classic over and over as a kid. I loved that book. I never thought it was scary. People have said it's a scary book, that the monsters are based on Maurice Sendak's family. I just never saw the book that way. I didn't know the monsters were based on real people. I just thought it was an exciting book with lovely drawings.



Maybe Where the Wild Things Are did influence Bedtime Monster. Bedtime Monster is about a boy who has a huge tantrum. It's so monstrous, in fact, that he turns into a monster, tail and all. And dad has a monstrous secret himself. In Bedtime Monster I was showing that everyone has a little bit of monster in themselves, and it's okay. We can get angry and still be good people. I'm sure monsters have been used many time throughout literature to represent human acts and emotions. I'm not saying that Bedtime Monster is scary, just that it's a given fact that people can act monstrously, and running away to a fun place for a while has a certain appeal.



The bigger question? Did Where the Wild Things Are influence my life? Max dresses up--becomes someone else--and runs away to an exciting new land. I changed from a child to a grown up, basically became a new person, and ran off a on mountain adventure. I have yet to return from it. I believe that when I do go back home, dinner will still be hot.

The Hazards of Writing in Bed

Someone asked what our special place to write was during #writechat on Twitter a couple of Sundays ago. Yes, I'm a super-slow blog poster. Anyway, it's an easy answer for me: bed. I thought that writing in bed was maybe kinda weird, but I told everyone anyway. I've come to accept my writing habits and actually like the fact that I wrote Bedtime Monster in bed. But writing in bed does have its dangers.

First of all, there's the pen marks. You can tell a bed writer by the pen marks on their hands and arms. That's from from falling asleep with the pen in their hand, of course. A face streaked with ink is a dead giveaway.

The pen is a dangerous weapon. Not only can writers cast a deadly word-lashing if so inclined, pens are sharp. It is quite shocking to wake up with a pen stabbing you in the back or the eye. Which leads me to...

Alienating your significant other. My husband actually told me this, so obviously, bed writing affects more than just the bed writer. I know that more than once I've woken up to, "what the heck is this?", followed by the sound of a pen... or two... or three, hitting the floor. When I wake up to paper crinkling, I have to jump up to save my slanting, illegible, written-as-I-was-falling-asleep words from being irreplaceably lost if my hubby is a little to irritated in his sleep. Not that he has ever ripped up my papers, but you never know, someday it just might be one time too many. At least he doesn't mind the ink stains all over the sheets. They're on my side anyway--mostly.

Then there's the losing stuff. When you're a bedtime writer you tend to, um, fall asleep--if you haven't figured that out already. So, sometimes I write something then forget where I wrote it. (I have this other annoying habit of writing in every different room in the house--all in different notebooks, but that's another story.) Then I spend days tearing apart all my notebooks looking for it. Someday I will learn to look between the wall and the bed first.

Falling asleep before I get everything written down is pretty annoying, but it comes with the territory. As I get more into a story or more tired, whichever comes first, I tend to sink lower into the bed. As I sink lower I get more warm and cuddly. It doesn't take long before I am hiding my face under the covers and closing my eyes while I think. And that can only lead to sleep.

Even though there are hazards, writing in bed is my number one spot. And now I have clearly given you too much information.

Random Connections

I went into the pharmacy the other day. It's my favorite shop in town, if I can ignore the dead animals hanging on the walls everywhere. (They do seem to be good for education though. My children now know what a real cougar, buffalo, and mountain sheep look like, among other wild beasts. Still.) But, the pharmacy does have lots of good gift stuff. I usually go there to buy presents. This time I was just browsing.

I walked over to a table. It was covered with calendars. I never buy calendars because I always seem to be given one every year, but one caught my eye because it was funny. There was a guy on the front vacuuming. A little speech bubble said, "I love a clean house." Ha! It was called "Porn for Women". (Am I going to get spammed for writing that?) I flipped the calendar over and started looking at the other month's offerings. They were hilarious. Then I noticed something.

There was a guy holding a piece of chocolate cake. The caption said something like have another piece of cake, I don't like you looking so thin. Touchee. I love that, but there was something else. I knew that guy holding that cake. I looked over all the pictures. He was the guy in like five other pictures and on the cover. I definitely knew that guy. (Scroll down a tad to the handsome man holding flowers. That's my favorite pic of him.)

Now, when you go into the pharmacy you don't expect to see an old friend lying on the table with his shirt off. But, Adrian was always fun and crazy, so I wouldn't expect anything less. Me, Tini, and Adge always had good times. When we were together it was always the three of us doing some whacky thing. I miss them.

I would not have ever guessed that Adge would grow up to be a model. That he is successful feels like a bonus. I'm just glad he lived long enough to become a grown-up. I saw Adge close to death one time, after he crashed his motorcycle into the back of a truck. It was the most heart-wrenching thing I had ever seen in my life and it really scared me, for a long time. I wanted so badly to help my friend and I couldn't. I couldn't get myself back into that hospital either, no matter how much I wanted to for some reason. I didn't see Adge anymore after that except for one more time actually, when he came back to see me. He asked me to call him. I didn't. I thought it was for his own good. Sometimes I feel bad about that. But, it looks like he's done all right. I'm so glad.

Before I get too sentimental I guess I'll tell you that I believe in the rule of threes. Everthing happens in threes. Bad things. Good things. Weird things. So, when I came upon two people two days in a row I started wondering who the third would be. I really didn't think there would be a third before I blogged this. But there is. An old friend found me online and emailed me. My husband said he thought it was amazing that I knew there would be one more person. I cannot believe that he was still unconvinced of the rule of threes. Silly man.

Anyhow, if you want a funny gift you should check out my friend's calendar. You have to scroll down to the 2009 Porn for Women calendar. Very hot. And funny too. Can't get much better than that. Oh, he's on postcards too!

I, of course, bought the calendar. I sent it to Tini. Boy was she surprised. I guess now there's two more fans of the Porn for Women line.

If wild agents & publishers roamed my land instead of bears...

they'd be running up the hills searching desperately for signals for their cell phones; going into mad tantrums because their blackberries won't work. My friend sbk would jet right over while they are momentarily subdued by the utter stillness and complete silence of the mountain. As they grew restless once again we'd tempt them to inch closer with wireless access and coffee then ambush them with tasty manuscripts and offer to lead them to civilization if they sign us. We'd have deals in no time.

Word Uses

I had to fill out an agricultural survey the other day for our mountain property. It was long and complex and really had nothing to do with us since we don't farm anymore. By the time I got to page two I had no idea what the survey was wanting from me. How do I classify my land? There are no crops. There are no farm animals. Fallow? We'd never actually plowed it, so that didn't seem right. I decided I'd better check with the survey takers aka The Department of Agriculture(this survey had to be filled out under threat of imprisionment so I figured I should try to get it right.) So I called the number and talked to this honey-voiced lady who seemed shocked at the fact that I didn't farm my land, and was I absolutely sure I didn't own any cattle? Really?



Apparantely if you don't use your acreage for anything but the joy and beauty of it, you are wasting it. That's right. My land is classified as wasteland. Heck--I didn't even have to fill any of the other forty pages out since I'm wasting it. They should really come take a look at what the cattle do to the land, they might have to switch their definitions. All those cows can sure ruin a place.

And while I'm talking about messed up words, here's a new swear word for ya. Precipice. That's right, you read it correctly. Precipice, as in: This agricultural survey is really precipicing me off. Hey, it works when you're nine.

Gravy

I ran into a conundrum at dinner tonight. I said gravy is my favorite food. Then my daughter wondered if gravy is an actual "food". Yes, it is edible, but it's a sauce. People don't usually eat it all by itself although I have been known to on occasion. But it's not like I serve the family bowls of gravy for dinner. So, can gravy be my favorite food or does it have to be mashed potatoes and gravy, or rice and gravy, or maybe toast and gravy? I'd be hard pressed to choose because I see them all as vehicles to hold the gravy that I want to eat.

Alas, my husband does not have the gravy loving gene that runs on my side family. He doesn't even care if it's an actual food or not. That's okay. More for me!

And speaking of gravy. It would be gravy if that agent that has been considering my requested manuscript for over three months now would tell me he wants to represent me already! I'm going to go mad if I have to wait much longer, either that or I'll have to status query. Yes folks, gravy goes with everything.

Another New Diet

My mother-in-law is on a new diet every time we see her. She’s done the all meat diet, the raw food diet, and numerous other diets, most with strange names I can’t remember because, of course, I don’t pay attention. And it isn’t for her lack of trying to educate me on her latest brilliant discovery. Each diet is a life altering transformation for her. She has to get new foods, new gadgets to prepare the food, and practically create a new lifestyle for herself that revolves around her fabulous new diet.

Fortunately for us she has made a break through and found the best diet yet. No, I think it’s the best diet ever. There's no topping this one—she can eat anything, as long as it doesn’t have a face or a mother. Yes, that is the diet.

So now I’m trying to come up with some good questions for Thanksgiving when we see her. Potatoes have eyes. Can she eat them? Technically, do vegetables have mothers? Dh says no, but I’m not quite convinced. He says that mothers have to take care of their young—so can she eat orphans? Oh wait, only if they don’t have a face. Faceless orphans would be okay then. I can see myself spitting my mashed potatoes across the table over this one. It’s gonna be fun.

Windy Day

It can be windy in the mountains. We’ve been through a lot of blowy days. But it’s never been anything like it was today. When I got up and looked outside the trampoline was blowing past the front door. It’s usually across the yard, far away from the house. I thought it would stay there, safe, pinned against the house.

It didn’t. It somehow blew over to the deck and flipped to the ground a story below, taking the railing with it. We had to actually lift the trampoline off the dangling railing and roll it out of the way. Trying to up a 20ft. round trampoline over your head is not easy. And kinda scary. The trampoline is toast. The deck is a complete danger zone.

The French doors in the living room kept blowing open. They are now boarded shut and may remain that way out of paranoia. My husband actually told me I’d better got get dressed this morning because he didn’t want me to only have my robe if something happened. He made the kids stay out of the kitchen in case the big windows broke. He’s not one to overreact—and he wasn’t.

Our canoe was blown uphill. Part of the roof came off the house. The chicken coop blew over! Now we’ve got some new house repair to do. Hopefully it won’t be too windy so we can get it done.

Halloween Bravery

Even though Halloween is past I wanted to share with you about the best costume ever. A brave and crazy friend of mine is in a band. He plays the stand up bass. After much thought, he came up with the idea that he was going to dress up as “Basic Man and his Manic Bass.” Just the name is fabulous.

He decided that nothing is more basic than a while t-shirt and tighty whities. Since it’s cold here, and since he’s not the type of guy to go showing off his bod(and none of us would probably want to see it) he wore his long johns with his white underwear and a t-shirt over the top. Basic Man. His bass was dressed in a white sheet cape proclaiming it Manic Bass. So please take a moment to imagine this small bald guy with white clown hair and a goofy smile playing rock and blues in his underwear. I still laugh just thinking about it.

But the best part? He went into to the grocery store on the way to his gig dressed like that—and it was days before Halloween. He had no Manic Bass to accompany him. Just a man with his underwear over his long johns pickin’ up a few groceries. Good stuff. Gotta love them crazy friends.

Me meme

I've been tagged by Jumbled Ramblings and now must follow the rules of the meme because, well, I like her. And it never occurs to me to share weird random facts about myself. I'll try to make it interesting. That could be difficult.

The rules: Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1. I like to eat, eat, eat apples and bananas. Sorry, too much Raffi. I guess I can tell you, I go around singing silly songs like, “If you like to talk to tomatoes…” (Veggie Tales) And “Nothing can go wrong-o I am in the Congo.”(Raffi again) But don’t tell anybody, okay?

2. I like to eat cookies for breakfast. Or pie. I try not to though. Don’t want to be a bad influence on the kids, although we did have rhubarb pie for breakfast the other morning. It’s got fruit!

3. I’ve had lots of animals in my life: Rabbits, Dogs, Cats, Rats, Fish, Snakes, Birds of all sorts (Parrots, finches, turkeys, ducks, chickens, etc.), Sheep, a huge herd of Goats, a couple of Draft Horses, um, I think that’s it. Oh, and a Donkey named Peg. Now we’re keeping it simple with two old dogs, a cat, and four annoying pet chickens.

4. I have Tachycardia or SVT or whatever the doctors want to call it, where my heart starts racing really fast. Too fast. I just call it my heart thing. It sucks. I am able to keep instances pretty low if I don’t stress and get enough sleep.

5. I try to pet cows when I drive by them on the road. Yes, they are out in the actual road, and there are a lot of them on my way home, but I still haven’t petted one. They’re quicker than they look.

***WARNING***GNARLY CONTENT***NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH***
6. When I was in second grade we heard the ice cream man coming, so all us kids ran to the garage and got our bikes. Everyone rode them through the house,except me, since the garage door was closed. When I walked out the front door my bike fell on me and I fell onto a box of stained glass. It cut my leg open from my ankle to my knee. It was pretty much to the bone. In my shocked state I actually thought it looked pretty cool, which is weird because I hate that kind of stuff. Anyway, I got sixty-six stitches and wasn’t supposed to be able to run or walk right or something like that. I’m fine though. I can blame that I’ve never been a fast runner on it I suppose, but I doubt that’s the case. I do have this scar that shows how big my leg was from ankle to knee, when I was seven.

7. I stepped over a rattlesnake in my front yard. I didn’t know it was there until I heard the rattling and turned around to see it coiling up. I was carrying my daughter in my arms. Glad I don’t have to add a content warning to that one.

8. I lived in an 8x10 log cabin for two years. It was like a long camping trip.

That's it. I tag Suzy Scribbles because she's the only other person I know with a blog. If I was brave I'd tag some other people whose blogs I read like Editorial Anonymous. She could reveal some interesting facts. I'm too chicken though.