award! sparkfest! ash to nash! finding peace! all the good stuff.

First of all, if you haven't taken a gander at the Harry Potter Zipline photos, please do. It really happened. You won't regret it.

Second-- and most important-- ly, here are some things that are going on:

1. We have moved our bed into the den. Pretty much everything from the bedroom, actually, has been moved. Some call this "packing," I call it "in-house camping." It's a mess, but it's also pretty fun to have a double bed, two couches, a coffee table, two bookshelves, a TV, and a small dining table with two chairs and a bench in one room (don't worry, it's an unusually large room).
1a. We're buying a new mattress and bed frame when we move. I can't wait to show you guys this bed. It's so odd. It has WHEELS. We're looking at a huge bookshelf with wheels, too. Good thing our new bedroom is tiled. Oh yes, tiled.

2. With the end of camp, I've been looking at my summer goals, again. The only ones that probably just aren't going to happen are to watch less TV and exercise daily. I know, I was doing so well. But!
2a. Even though I haven't gotten as much done as quickly as I would have liked this summer, I'm feeling pretty good about my writing. Have I gone through my entire rough draft yet? Well, no. But I have been doing a fair amount of planning and aligning events in my head and my notebook, which will hopefully help me figure out the direction of everything once I really get into revisions.

3. The lovely Deirdra at A Storybook World has given me an award! Just because! I am so thrilled. Seriously, you blog folks are awesome. I know I should say this more often, so I'll try to make up for it now:

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

When I started blogging, I had no idea what I was getting into. All I knew was that I wanted to write, and I wanted others to read. I've noticed how some bloggers can cultivate huge followings in the span of months, and while that is awesome, I do not possess such skills. I am a networking sloth. I struggle with putting myself out there, I really do. So, again, THANK YOU. I am so encouraged.

So fun and pretty!
(Also, I'm relieved to know I'm not the only one being entertained, over here.)

4. Speaking of putting myself out there, I'm going to be participating in Christine Tyler's Sparkfest in a few weeks. Hooray! I hope you'll join me; blogfests are so much fun. And so is Christine's blog, The Writer Coaster. Let's show some love.

5. Have you guys heard about From Ash To Nash?                     (look there it is! -->)
Anyone outside of this area probably doesn't care, but as a resident of the East Tennessee/Western North Carolina region, this is thrilling. A book signing in Knoxville! Who'd'a thunk? And so, I will be there, at Union Ave. Books, next Sunday afternoon. If you are going to be there, too, please tell me! Especially if that means you also live in this area. Friends we shall be, I say.

6. Speaking of the East Tennessee/Western North Carolina region, an amazing thing happened at camp a few weeks ago: I stopped caring about being cast as an extra in The Hunger Games. A good move, on my part, because they never called me. :) Look at that, a smiley face. And you know why?
6a. There are so many wonderful things going on in my life, these days. Really. I have a wonderful husband, fantastic friends, two highly entertaining cats, and a whole world that exists solely in my imagination. I don't NEED to be in The Hunger Games to feel good about myself. That's what it was, for a while. I wanted to be a part of something that made me feel significant. I also wanted a chance to see Jennifer Lawrence again, I won't lie (that's not just a pipe dream-- I knew her {i.e. her brother} back in Louisville... for those of you who hadn't heard that a thousand times over, already). Also, since I'm being brutally honest about myself, I felt a bit... possessive of the story. As if The Hunger Games existed solely for me, and so OF COURSE they would let me be a part of it. I thought that if no one called me, it meant that I was not good enough for the story I loved, had no presence, was doomed to never act again. But the truth (or at least part of the truth)?

I don't live in the right state.

A crap-ton of people went to those casting calls, and most of them lived in the immediate area. I like to think that I'm not half-bad at the things I do, but I also knew I wasn't going make such an impression that the distance wouldn't matter. And that's okay. I don't regret going out for it. Now that I can look back without the butterflies or the gut-pounding high hopes, I see the day for what it was: a fun morning with friends and coffee and good conversation, a profound learning experience, and something I will always be able to say I did. What's not to love about that?

So, how's the beginning of August faring for you, my friends?

a belated post about harry potter, who, by book reckoning, would be 31 today.

And that is a BIG DEAL, because you only turn 31 on the 31st once, Harry. So live it up.*

Latex balloons sold separately, people. Also, no matter how much I love these books,
I don't really want to eat cake off the hero's face.

Ahem.
In the past several weeks, a lot of folks having been reminiscing up and down about Harry Potter and the end of an era. I hear you. This is my two cents, and we'll pretend that I am not quite so late to the game (I didn't see the movie until this past week-- gasp!).

Like everyone else will say (and has said), these books shaped my life as a reader. Especially my life during the summertime. My favorite thing to do, for quite a while, was to bake in the sun on my parents' back deck with a Harry Potter book in my lap. And boy, do I have a lot of memories of books 5-7 coming out whilst working at Loucon, and the constant battle of trying to get kids (and counselors! and staffers!) not to spoil the goods for those of us who'd decided to wait until the summer was over... or at least not to read on the job. THAT'S HOW YOU KNOW A BOOK IS GOOD, folks.

There are certain benefits to working at a summer camp with like-minded people. For instance, this is how we celebrated the release of the final film:

The infamous Harry Potter Zipline!

It was a beautiful Saturday at Camp Loucon, and some awesome stuff went down. 

All photo credits to my friend Katie, whom I call Catie (she calls me Dzulie. It's a thing).

There was Quaffle throwing.

And Snitch catching.

And there were stunts!

It was the Best Thing Ever. I love camp people. And YAY for books that shape culture! Isn't it baffling?

(I totally caught the Snitch, fyi.)

P.p.s. Plan a Wizard Birthday Party? 

*I hear there's some controversy over what year Harry was born (the horror!), but I'm sticking with the headstone that said James and Lily died in 1981. Just so's you know.

a quick appearance, and a broom.

Just popping in to say, "Where did that week go?"

It's all sorts of spring madness in these parts, including both beautiful and deadly weather, a cat that has figured out how to push through the window screen, a trip to Virginia to listen to music (more on that later), and a new obsession with making Hogwarts versions of myself, my friends, and my characters. Are you ready for this?

Here I am, unusually tan, rocking it out for Gryffindor Quidditch:

*Not a working quidditch uniform.
Who knows what that collar might do?
And yes, I would so play it in sandals.
www.dolldivine.com

Good luck getting anything done for the next several days. Cackle cackle.

gregorific.

Adj.  Simultaneously awesome and depressing.

Maybe we should call it Suzannetastic, actually.  It would mean the same thing.

No, but really.  I loved these books.  It was both very like and very unlike reading The Hunger Games.  Similarities:  violence and adventure and anti-war themes.  Differences:  a more juvenile voice, more fantastical elements, and a boy's perspective rather than a girl's.

There is something I love about a boy's point of view, and I don't really know why.  I'm a girl, so you'd think it would be the other way around, but no.  Heck, my own current writing project is from a boy's perspective.  A good chunk of my favorite books are also male POV, now that I think about it.  Life of Pi, for one.  Also, Harry freaking Potter.  And, of course, Gregor.  But also White Cat and Looking For Alaska, both of which I read last month, and The Replacement, which I read back in the fall and then never wrote about, but probably should have because I really enjoyed it.  Let's see...  I think my favorite read of the past year is still Lips Touch, by Laini Taylor, and about a third of that (maybe more, depending on how you define POV) was told through male characters.  I don't know why I'm rambling about this, but it's funny to think about because even growing up, I always got along a little better with boys than I ever did with girls.  Maybe it's because I have a brother and no sisters.  Plus, with male main characters I can have crushes.  With female main characters, they have the crushes.  NotthatthismattersanymorebecauseIammarried.  Ahem.  [Also, this is not an absolute rule because I have both disliked male MCs, and adored male side characters told from female perspectives: examples:  Harry Potter: boo, get over yourself.  Peeta Mellark:  oh my gosh I think I married you.  It is time to move on to another topic.]

Anyway!  Also, like The Hunger Games, Gregor left me in a stupor.  A haze.  Because life sucks and then you die, but there are so many important things to learn from it along the way.  Like, quit killing each other!
[P.s. While typing "are so" just now, I accidentally forgot the space bar and ended up with the word "ares."  Ares!!!!  I want a pet bat.  Just so I could name him after the bats in the series.]

I meant for this to be more about Gregor and less about other things, but it doesn't seem to be working.  Here's something awesome, though:  The Gregor books were published annually from 2003 to 2007, and then The Hunger Games books picked up and were published in '08, '09, and '10, respectively.  Which is to say, Suzanne Collins is an absolute machine.  Is she publishing anything this year?  Goodness knows I will devour it and then be depressed by it, but still love it.

fifteen authors who have shaped me in some way.

1.  Shel Silverstein.
     I assume that most would add this man to their list for such things as The Giving Tree, but honestly, he's on my list for the audiobooks of Where The Sidewalk Ends and A Light In The Attic, which I demanded to hear on just about every road trip I went on from the ages of 5 to 13, probably.  The man's voice was like a creepy, buttery lullaby that made you want to stay up and hear more, and then stay awake thinking about it.  So, not too successful as a lullaby.  Brilliant as narration.  Also, seriously, I cannot help but *adore* Runny Babbit.  Don't you?  It grieves me that Silverstein died before its publication.  I would have loved to hear him recite it.

2.  Lois Lowry.
    I know so little [read: nothing] about this author outside the realm of The Giver, but, oh.  The Giver.

3.  CS Lewis.

     I used to sit in the corner of my grandparents' huge walk-in closet, turn off the lights and wait for Narnia to come.  Enough said.

4.  Harper Lee.
     I read To Kill a Mockingbird on a camping trip with my family the summer I turned 14.  Changed my life.  It made me want to (a), play Scout on stage, even though I was already way too old, (b), name something, possibly a daughter, Harper (which is still totally in the mix, as far as I'm concerned), and (c), though I didn't fully realize it at the time, be a writer.

5.  Tim O'Brien.
     I loved reading The Things They Carried in 11th grade.  I vividly remember sitting under the table in English class, devouring it and being thoroughly creeped-out.

6.   Ernest Hemingway.

     I will be honest, the only Hemingway I've actually read is A Farewell to Arms, and I pretty much hated it. Why on earth is he on my list, then?  Because I grew up going to Key West every summer, that's why.  I used to beg my parents to take me to his house, again and again, mostly to see the the six-toed cats.  But as I got older, I appreciated the whole thing a lot more.  I love seeing his pictures all over the wall at Sloppy Joe's.  Regardless of how you feel about him, isn't it incredible to sit where he sat?

7.  JK Rowling.

     I know this one is a given for any human being even remotely interested in literature who was alive (and most likely young) from 1998 until now, but it is irrefutable.  Nothing re-reads quite as delightfully as a Harry Potter book.  Especially on the back deck at my parents' house in the middle of summer, or on the choir tour bus back in high school, or out-loud in a car with someone you love.

8.  Christina Rosetti.
     Poets were supposed to be included in this, and I wish I had more, but the first one to come to mind is always Christina Rosetti, for Goblin Market.

9.  Anne Lamott.
     Bird by Bird is the best college textbook I ever didn't buy for class.  I invested in my own copy post-graduation, because I knew it was special and I missed it (I had borrowed it and, honestly, not done very much of the reading when I was supposed to).

10.  Kelly Link.
     When I first read her short story Monster, it absolutely astounded me.  It's a bizarre, enchanting, ultimately horrifying little tale about a kid getting picked on at summer camp, and, you know, a monster.  I love it.  I can't get over the voice.  She writes the way I want to write.  I don't know how else to explain it.  Also, I read a collection of her short fiction on my honeymoon, and so her voice will always sort of remind me of that, too.

11.  Yann Martel.
     What is it about Life of Pi?  The philosophy is often over my head (as most things are), I don't really agree with Pi's religious convictions, and I still have no stinking clue what happens at the end.  But I love this book terribly, and if I get to thinking about it too much, I always want to re-read it.  It's the way the man writes, that's what.

12.  Dodie Smith.
     "I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.  That is, my feet are in it; the rest of me is on the draining-board, which I have padded with our dog's blanket and a tea-cosy.  I can't say that I am really comfortable, and there is a depressing smell of carbolic soap, but this is the only part of the kitchen where there is any daylight left.  And I have found that sitting in a place where you have never sat before can be inspiring-- I wrote my very best poem while sitting on the hen-house.  Though even that isn't a very good poem.  I have decided my poetry is so bad that I mustn't write any more of it."
     --is my favorite opening paragraph of any book I have ever read.  If you haven't yet had the absolute joy of diving into I Capture the Castle, just know that I cannot recommend it enough.  It is perhaps my true favorite, and has been for a couple of years.  It's so... melodic.  So sweet.  Honest.  Beautifully written.  Romantic (really, how can you not love a boy like Stephen Colly?).  And, in some places, completely hilarious.  I could go on and on.  Also, this woman wrote The 101 Dalmatians, and who doesn't love that?

13.  Sheldon Vanauken.
     I finally finished A Severe Mercy this past winter, and it... was... what?  Are there words to describe this man's story?  I bawled.  I learned.  I grew.  And, hey, the man was friends with Jack himself, and a good portion of the book is their correspondence.  Sharing in the grief of the women they loved.  We had a passage from it read at our wedding.  Sounds macabre, I know, but it was perfect: all about God defining a marriage.  Beautiful stuff.

14.  Laini Taylor.
     On a much, much lighter note, here is another author who writes the way I want to write.  In an effort to seem hip and reviewer-y, I wrote this post about her book Lips Touch, which is way more awesome than it may sound (the book, not my review.  The review is... just a review).

15.  Suzanne Collins.
     Here we go.  Deep breath.  The Hunger Games.  Catching Fire.   Mockingjay.  I do not know how she did it, but Suzanne Collins absolutely broke me (in a good way, kind of) with Katniss's story.  Please, friends.  Please.  Read these books.  I tore through the whole trilogy twice in five weeks, if that's any indication of my feelings.  The story is unforgettable.  And that's all I can say without turning into a total fangirl.

i pretend like i'm not peeing my pants with joy over the new harry potter movie...

But I must be, according to my subconscious.

The other night, I had what I think may very well be the oddest and most hilarious dream of my life, to date.  In short, I was playing poker with my cousin Justin, Todd Packer from The Office, and Lord Voldemort.

You heard that right.  Voldemort.  And my real-life cousin.  And an actor whose name I don't remember.  Though, in the dream, he was the sleazy character he plays on TV, not himself.  Insane.  Especially since I despise that character, do not know how to play poker, and the ONLY one of these people whom I would EVER associate with in real life, is, of course, The Dark Lord.  I mean, Justin.

I don't remember much of the dream, but right before I woke up, I must have said something awesome, because all three of these men reached out to give me a high five.  The very last thing I did before coming to was slap hands with Voldemort, who didn't know how to do it right.  He kept his fingers pointed out, like he was all about Hitler (which I wouldn't doubt, given his history), and I tried to correct him.  He looked down and admitted that his wrists didn't flex back.  He seemed so dejected and sad.  I was about to say something like, "It's okay, buddy.  I know that kid did a number on you," but then I woke up.

I whispered to my husband, "I think I just had a dream that Voldemort gave me a high-five."
Joshua said something like, "That's unsettling," but it was muffled and he was half asleep.  Then I realized how crazy I sounded.  I'm half tempted to look up in the books about those faulty wrist joints, but something tells me I just pulled that from some other unprocessed brainwave.

I must just be really excited about these movies.  And high-fives.  And... poker, I guess.

My total BFF!