double tagged! also, a facelift.

I have been double-tagged!
Once by Colin D. Smith {all the 7s}, and once by TZ Wallace {good old 11 questions}.

Let's start with the questions!

1. What book character do you have a crush on?

Let me tell you guys about my husband. He has curly blond hair and gray-blue eyes. He loves to cook and gets adorably excited about food, especially baked goods. He is quiet and kind, almost to a fault. He has been known to paint and get hopelessly romantic. When I first read The Hunger Games, I couldn't get over the parallels.* So this question is kind of a no-brainer.

Is it any wonder I liked Peeta so much?

*Note: My husband is significantly less perfect and more human, though. Just the way I like 'em.

2. What was the last book that made you cry?

I'm going to go with all-out bawled, here, and not just choked up. I got choked up in Legend over Day's necklace {I don't even know why}, but that wasn't the same. The last book that made me *cry* cry was The Book Thief. I mean, come on people. I cried for so many reasons, and throughout the whole thing. There was the emotional gravity of World War II, first of all, but also the sheer beauty of the storytelling. And the characters in that book. Oh man.

Before The Book Thief, there was A Monster Calls, by Patrick Ness, which made me weep on a plane.

3. What scenes are the hardest for you to write?

Transitions/decision making. I get bored reading them, I get bored writing them.

4. Are you superstitious about your writing methods, or do you have any rituals regarding your writing?

I'm not superstitious, but I do appreciate ritual. Probably too much, because then I become dependent on the ritual {which, in turn, is the definition of superstitious, so...}. Can I write without coffe/tea? Can I write without checking my email compulsively every fifteen minutes? Can I write in public/at home/in the car, if I'm not used to it? Yes, Julie. Yes you can.

One thing I do, that makes me feel like a weirdo, is migrate while I write. I might start on the couch, but if the juices aren't flowing, I'll move to the table. If I get stuck again, I'll go to the guest bedroom {which is supposed to be my "office"}. After a few days of this, I'll write at the library. I have a Goldilocks complex. I might also be in a funk.

5. Do you listen to music when writing, or do you have to have silence?

Oh good heavens, I can't stand to listen to music while writing. I work in silence. I love music, and I listen to it for mood all the time, but trying to write to it makes me feel punchy/insane. Or like my brain might melt out of my ears. If I'm ever trying to write in a loud or public place, I'll listen to brown noise {a few degrees lower/softer than white noise} on my headphones. Silence is king, though. Or should I say, ADD is king, and silence the most effective medicine?

6. What book antagonist do you love to hate?

Who doesn't have a thing for Voldemort?

7. What is the last book you stayed up ridiculously late to finish reading?

All three of the books I read last month accomplished this. Article 5, Anna Dressed in Blood, and Legend. The again, I tend to stay up ridiculously late, regardless.

8. When was the last time that you waited in line for a book release?

I have only done this once, for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

9. What book{s} is/are currently on your bedside table?

My planner. A Game of Thrones. Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes. The Plot Whisperer. My notebook. Zombies vs. Unicorns. A printed copy of my first draft. A History of Asia.

10. What is your "guilty pleasure" book that you read and re-read?

I don't know if I would call this a guilty pleasure, since there's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, but I generally always want to go back to I Capture the Castle.

11. How comfortable are you calling yourself a "writer?"

Today, not very, since I have little to show for it.

Sweet! Moving on to the 7's.

I don't know who decided to call this Lucky 7 meme "lucky." Haaaaaaaaaaaa. The seven lines starting with line seven of page seventy-seven of my horrid rough draft from a year ago are, predictably, horrid. Excuses, excuses. But seriously. Those words aren't going to see the light of day. They occur 'midst things that are no longer relevant. I haven't reached page 77 of the rewrite, yet. And so, I'm treating you with seven lines from page 77 of my NaNo project, instead. But watch out. I haven't looked at this in three and a half months, and it has never been edited. Not a smidge. Wahoo!

***

She tips the suitcase onto its spine, there on the floor in the middle of the little back room attached to the kitchen. No one else seems to notice this corner, or care for it. Embarrassed, I can’t stop thinking about the contents of the cupboards behind me. My mouth actually starts to water over nothing in particular, and I train my attention back to Nan. No one else is eating. I wonder if Catie and Donovan realize that I’m still starving, burning up on the fumes of hospital coffee and eating them whole.

Nan unclasps the hooks on the old suitcase and half of it thuds to the floor.

***

Oh man, check out ALL of my slap-dash writing flaws. Way too many words? Check. Run-on sentences? Check. Descriptions that make no sense? Check check. How on earth does one "eat" coffee fumes whole? After burning up on them? Ah, NaNo. I even remember being proud of this paragraph. *goose laugh* But that's the thing about rough drafts, I guess. You write them to iron out your thoughts, not to please anyone else. Right?

Also, I had forgotten that I wrote most of this in first/present. Interesting.

Well that was fun. I actually just got excited about NaNo again. If you feel like playing along, consider yourself tagged!

While you're here, how do you like the new look?

introducing: thumbs up from skunk!

A of all, if you feel so inclined, take a gander at my challenge piece for the Campaign! And if you're feeling likey, even better! I'm #141, and I could sure use your lovely votes.

So, remember when J and Kathleen and Amanda and Rachel Bean all gave me awards {THANK YOU!}, and I never passed them on? Well. It's because J and I had something special up our collective sleeve.

Here's the thing. Writing is hard. Admitting that you write is hard. I could not do this alone, and it is amazing to look back and see my own growth--both as a writer and a human being-- since I started collecting pocket writer buddies, also known as crit partners. They have uplifted and influenced me in ways I did not even know I needed.

It isn't just the crit partners, though. It's this whole blogging community. Going to visit a friend I made on the internet solidified it for me-- this is the bomb. No one says that anymore, but you know what I mean. At least I didn't say "the bomb dot com."

Recently, I've talking a lot with another blog friend, whom you know as J, and she and I realized something.

We had to make our own blog award.

Because, you know what? We all feel like stinky, stinky skunks some days. I, for example, was putrid with my own fear just a couple weeks ago. I was certain that I was foolish in letting myself believe I could write. But Jeigh and J {ha}, as well as a few frequent commenters {who likely didn't realize their influence}, picked me up from my own mire and set me back down on my feet. Or, rather, my fingertips... at the keyboard.

And so, instead of passing on another round of versatility, irresistible sweetness, and liebster love {thank you thank you thank you to all the folks who recognized me--you are fantastic}, J and I would like to bring you this:

Because you make us feel {and smell} a lot better

Let's talk about J. Her incredibly talented fiance made the award for us. {If you're interested, you can enter a chance to win a sketch of your MC over at Concrete Pieces of Soul. J and C are cool like that.} She has been a great friend to me in the short time I've known her, and her encouragement helped me find the confidence to send out a chapter for critique, post my Campaign Challenge piece... take your pick. You are fabulous, J. I look forward to the day you announce your name on the internets, so I won't have to keep backspacing when I talk about you. Haha.

Since the Random-Things-About-Yourself trope is getting a little tired, J and I decided to make this award different. Of course, still thank and link back to the person who gave it to you. Thumbs Up from Skunk is about confidence, believing in yourself, so we think it'd be great for you to list one Thing About Yourself That Pleases You, one thing you LOVE. It could be anything, from your writing, to a good meal you had, a conversation with a witty cut-up... something good. To get the ball rolling, J and I are passing the award onto five people a piece, but you can give it to as many or as few as you like. You can even hold onto it, if you'd rather, until a particularly uplifting something occurs, and then pass it on accordingly. Or, as J says in her post, "until someone comes along and changes your universe." I love that.

My Pleasing Thing is:

This week, I sent a scene to three discerning sets of eyes, and got a lot of great feedback. It was the first time I'd really done such a thing since college. One friend {an about-to-be-published friend} said, "...the writing is solid. You should be super proud. That's going to be in a cover in no time."

hello, stock photo.

It was one of those moments that made me want to say, "You flatter me, but..."
... but on the inside? Heart racing, breath quickening... was it really that... promising?

No one else may agree with her opinion, but I was the best-smelling skunk on the block for the rest of that day... not to mention every day since.

And here is who I'm passing this on to {don't forget to notify your recipients}!

Jeigh. Rhymes with J {see above}. I did not know what having a writer friend truly meant until I met you. Not only do we make each other laugh, but we've met each others' crises. You've taught me how to crit, how to write cute boys {they eat a lot}, and how to read three books in one day. I was just a little slow on the uptake with the last one. We are *so* on the same page, and words just fall short of describing it. I am thrilled to have you in my life. Brain twin. :B

Elisabeth {or fairbetty, as they call you around here}. Remember when we were together in Gatlinburg last summer, not knowing that the other one blogged and wrote? Funny how that happens. Now you are someone I know I can turn to, a real-life friend {albeit far away} who also *gets* me on the writer level. You are a solid rock, always encouraging, always smiling. And it's nice to not be the only vegetarian around here.


Amber. What an awesome cheerleader you are! I can always count on you to remind me that I *can* do this, I *can* set a schedule for myself and be organized, I *can* open up and let myself learn. You ask the best questions, and my brain just loves it.

Ruth Josse and Sarah Pearson.You ladies are consistently encouraging and uplifting in your comments. I am so honored and happy to see you on here after almost every post, sending all kinds of good feelings my way. You take what it means to be a follower seriously, and I admire that. I also need to pick your brains and take notes on how you do it.

And that's how you do the Thumbs Up from Skunk {which totally needs an accompanying dance move}. This is for you, friends. Enjoy!

finally, some thoughts about writing.

Step #1.  Go to the library.  Check.

Step #2.  Locate nook.  If occupied, locate next available nook (there are several to choose from, here).  Check.

Step #3.  Drink white chocolate/macadamia nut latte.  Double check.

Step #4.  Disconnect from the internet.  Um... no check.

Step #5.  Write with abandon.  For the first time in two weeks, check.

Step #6.  Have an interesting thought.  Take a break to blog about it.  Unfortunate check.

This is usually how it goes for me.  My brain gets so excited, thoughts start going out all over the place.  It's the opposite of how I focus on something.  I remember learning that women can concentrate on or notice multiple things at a time, like they have millions of antennae coming out of their brains.  On the other hand, men generally only concentrate on one thing at a time, like they just have one big tube on their forehead that sucks up the information right in front of them.  Well, if this is the defining quality of gender, then I am a very confused girl.  I have remarkably few detail-receptors gathering information from all around me.  I have the man-tube.  I am a horrible multi-tasker.  Reading more than one book at a time feels like a thrill ride.  I don't really know what's going on around me, especially if I am particularly absorbed in something else.

But writing today was different, somehow.  I mean, the man-tube (the more I type that, the more awkward it sounds) is definitely in action.  I can't STAND ambient noise, especially in the form of children.  I am either going to be a horrible mother one of these days, or realize how horrible I was before becoming one.  Probably both.  I usually can't stand to listen to music, either, though today I did.  I think I have two qualifications for that:  it must be instrumental only, and it must be relatively unfamiliar, lest I get annoyed.  Also (okay, three qualifications), if one song works, I have to play it over and over again until the mood changes, and then find another song.  If there's not a song that fits the mood of what I'm writing, I can't listen to anything.  Boy, am I picky.  In six months of drafting (has it been that long?), I've only listened to music about twice, so that proves it.  But it really worked today, so that was... sort of fun.  And really weird.

Who am I, all of a sudden?

And then I started thinking about things.  So, I have a completely unrelated question for all you writerly-types out there:  What the heck makes boys cry?  I mean, I was about in tears writing just now, and so it seemed super-natural (not to be confused with supernatural) for my character to cry, as well.  But... but... he's a boy, and boys don't cry, right?  Do boys cry?  Over being reunited with their family?  Is that something that would make a boy cry?  Wouldn't I get mad if I read this from someone else and the boy didn't cry?  Or would I get annoyed that he did?  [If you can't guess, I married a very non-emotional boy.  We make a bizarre pair.]  OH MY GOSH!  WHAT MAKES BOYS CRY?!?!

According to the majority of my Google-image findings,
the only boys who cry are under 12,
impoverished, or artistically rendered.
With one possible exception:

This came with the explanation, "Stock photo,"
meaning it was likely staged (thus, artistically rendered).
You can't even see his face.  Is this a real thing?
Or only an idea perpetuated by
 emotional women trying to write male characters?

Think back to high school, Julie.  What made boys cry then?  You had enough guy friends to see it happen.  Hmm.  Death?  Accepting Christ?  Yes, those things.

Anything else?

Someone help me before I turn this into more of a crisis than it is.

Step #7:  Publish post, get over the thought, and go back to previous writing.  Hopeful check.